#yandere ignis

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a story request:

Undertaker (Black Butler) x Ciels sister!reader where maybe during the Campana arc reader kinda helps Ut. Like, maybe the fact that the dead are going to turn into zombies is almost revealed because (for example) a zombie breaks out of their coffin already, so reader lures it back? Idk. I just really want to read about the reader helping Ut because she wants to see him happy and smile and whatnot (I always get so happy when Ut laughs). Seeing as this would be yandere maybe reader is also just a bit obsessed with Ut? Not full blown yandere, just slightly codependent obsession?

Thank you! (Thank you if you do write it. If you don't write it then thank you for all your other wonderful stories)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was a bit tricky considering the second part of your request, which I couldn't make it fit here, so I'm just mentioning rather than showing. Overall, I hope you enjoy it. Undertaker is always a delight to write to.

The night was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of incense and something far less holy - much heavier, as rotten blood and stitched limbs. The Campania’s lavish halls were brimming with the murmurs, laughters and music, all unaware of the dark secret that writhed below the surface - bodies resting in coffins, waiting for the signal to rise and attack.

Amidst this carefully constructed chaos, you stood near the back of the room, your eyes subtly darting from side to side, scanning for any signs of trouble. You had been on edge since Undertaker had whispered his plan to you, a smile playing on his lips, as if this entire twisted game was no more than a grand performance he had orchestrated.

And yet, when he had explained what he needed to do, you could see the glint of madness, the excitement in his eyes that had sent a chill down your spine. But it was that same glint you couldn’t resist, the way his eyes seemed to light up, the way he smiled that you jumped right onto his plan without him needing to ask you to.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There was a shuffling sound, barely perceptible, and you stiffened, your hand clenching around the fan you held. Glancing around, your gaze quickly fell toward the source. One of the coffins was rocking slightly, the lid shifting as something within struggled to break free. Panic surged through you; this was too early.

The guests would see, and everything would unravel. Undertaker’s plan would be ruined.

Quickly, you moved closer, slipping past the other coffins with practiced ease. You reached the coffin just as the lid burst open, and a decaying hand clawed its way out, grasping at the air. The corpse’s eyes were wide, empty, and hungry, a sight that would have sent anyone else running in terror. But not you. You had seen far worse, working alongside Undertaker for a few months now.

You had heard Undertaker’s tales, his gentle whispers of how he had perfected this experiment, how it was all leading to this moment. You knew the lengths he would go to for his morbid fascination. And you loved the dreamy look on his eyes, even if you didn't quite understood what he planed to achieve with that.

With a calm that surprised even yourself, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the coffin and the rest of the room. “Shh, shh… it's alright, dearie.” You whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the murmurs of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra.

The zombie's head jerked towards you, its movements stiff and unnatural, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you slowly extended your hand, letting it grasp at your fingers, and gently guided it back down. “I know you’re restless and confused, but you need to wait just a little longer,” you continued, almost as if you were speaking to a child. “Go back, and I promise you’ll be able to stretch your legs soon.”

“Well, aren’t you a brave little thing?” He drawled, his voice low, a touch of amusement lacing his tone as he gently caressed your cheek with a soft touch. “I must say, I didn’t expect my sweet little assistant to take matters into her own hands.”

With surprising compliance, the creature obeyed, retreating back into its dark confinement. You gently closed the lid, making sure it was secure, and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You could not be afraid, yet it was terrifying to speak with a dead being.

Turning back, you found yourself face-to-face with Undertaker, his lips curved into a wide, knowing grin.

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you couldn’t help but return his smile, even if just a little. “I couldn’t let your plan fall apart,” you said, keeping your voice light, though your heart was still pounding. “Besides, I know how much this means to you… I couldn’t stand to see you disappointed.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered against your skin, the touch affectionate. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the dim light. “I’m not afraid because I want to see you happy,” you admitted quietly, averting your gaze, afraid to see his reaction. “I know how you are when you’re excited, and… I like it.”

Undertaker’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, his gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Oh, my dear, always so considerate, always thinking about me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You know, you’re quite the enigma yourself. So delicate, yet so fearless when it comes to helping me play with my little experiments. Are not afraid of them? Of me?”

Undertaker’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his grin melted into something more tender, more genuine. He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the look he gave you was almost reverent. “You’re quite the fascinating creature yourself, little dove.”

His voice barely above a whisper. “Always so eager to please, even when you should be running the other way. I wonder… do you even realize what you’re getting yourself into?”

You knew you should have been afraid, but instead, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something almost intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who could understand him, who could share in his dark, twisted delight.

“I don’t care,” you replied softly, your voice steady. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what happens.”

Undertaker chuckled, the sound low and rich, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already chosen your side, my dear,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “After all, there’s no turning back now… and I do so love having you by my side. I won't let you get away now, not even if your little brother found us out, not even if the whole world goes up in flames, you're my pretty assistant."

As you stood there, locked in Undertaker’s gaze, you realized you didn’t mind the darkness that surrounded him. In fact, it was that very darkness that drew you in, binding you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

A smug smile grew on your lips. "Good to know because I'm not planning to let anyone separate us."

And as the night continued, you found yourself more certain than ever that you would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face, even if it meant dancing along the edge of madness with him.

[baji-sideblog]

miss my jelly fish Boi

[creativecupcake]

Cult of the Human: Character Breakdown

Hey Guys! Things are finally settling down so I’m starting to get things ready for my yandere Twisted Wonderland series inspired by @kiame-sama’s Humans Are Extinct series. My story is meant to take inspiration from her series and the game Cult of the Lamb. Watch the human be thrust into a new world and have to deal with a world full of obsessed Yanderes. This entry is meant to break down what monsters each of the characters will be and a bit of the idea behind that.

Heartslabyul 

Ace- Pooka/Púca

Deuce- Wolpertinger

Riddle- Fairy (Flower)

Cater- Encantando

Trey- Brownie/Boggart 

Savanaclaw

Jack- Sköll

Ruggie- Gnoll 

Leona- Sphinx

Octavinelle 

Floyd- Eel Mer/Descendant of Charybdis

Jade- Eel Mer/Descendant of Charybdis

Azul- Cecaelia/Descendant of Scylla

Scarabia

Kalim- Shadhavar

Jamil- Naga

Pomfiore

Epel- Tree Nymph/Dryad (Apple Tree) 

Rook- Dullahan/Headless Horseman

Vil- Siren (both of land and sea)

Ignihyde 

Idia- Ignis Fatui (aka Will-o-the-wisp)

Ortho- Ignis Fatui (aka Will-o-the-wisp) 

Diasomnia

Sebek- Kobold

Silver- Mere/Nightmare

Lilia- Vampire Bat Fae

Malleus- Dragon Fae/Raven Demon

Staff

Crowley- Crow Herald (based of Huginn and Muninn) 

Crewel- Selkie

Sam- Crossroad Demon

Trein- Hippogriff 

Vargas- Minotaur

Others

Grim- Chimera

Rollo- Phoenix 

Fellow- Huli Jing/Kitsune

Gino- Bakeneko

Chenya- Matagot

Neige- Pixie/Sprite

Skully- Revenant

The Great Seven

Queen of Hearts/Cordelia- Flora Fae/Tinker Fairy

Scar- Sphinx/Nemean Lion

Ursula- Scylla/Cecaelia

Jafar- Naga:Basalisk 

Evil Queen/Grimhilde- Harpy/Banshee

Hades- Will-o-wisp/fire fae

Maleficent- Dragon Fae/Celestial Fae

Reasoning:

Heartslabyul- 

Ace is a Pooka as they are mischevious nature spirits. I see him as the rabbit of Heartslabyul, he playful and full of energy, but he will use his power cruelly if he deems necessary. Plus after finding out his unique magic I feel that a creature that copy the looks of others is spot on

Deuce is another story. I wanted a bunny or rabbit due to Deuce’s bunny day card, but I was looking for something that could fit his ready to fight nature. Thus, the Wolpertinger, a cute lil bunny with antlers, wings, and fangs. Looks cute but can go for the throat!

Riddle’s adherents to rules inspired this choice. Lots of myths go over the rules fairies have for their food, parties, homes, etc. I like the idea that Riddle didn’t quite get the playful nature most fairies do with the rules due to his mother. I see him as a flower/flora fairy, his home being a lovely rose bush. 

Cater’s encantado is similar to a selkie, coming from the encantado dolphins in South America. I envision Cater’s water form as more like a mermaid than a full dolphin. The encantado are supposed to be supernaturally gorgeous men, but I feel like that works well with Cater’s established issues with his ‘true’ self. So many see him as just a pretty face so he just keeps up the illusion.

Trey is textbook definition a Brownie. He’s helpful, cooks, cleans, and takes care of others. But I have seen some stories say that when sufficiently pissed off a Brownie can turn into a Boggart. I like to think this fits Trey quite nicely as he is scary when he gets serious. Since I don’t know if these stories are myth accurate though (I found mixed info online) I decided to make him both. His Brownie dad seduced his Boggart mom by just taking care of her an refusing to give up.

Savanaclaw- 

I like Jack as a werewolf, it fits nice but I decided to change it up a little. Sköll in Norse mythology is the son of Fenrir and chases the sun as it sets. In one of my friends D&D campaigns they made Sköll a race of celestial wolves that help lead the way for the stars at night. Very loyal, very strong at night, but weak during the day and need a pack with other creatures to help them.

I’m sorry I tried to find anything else that might fit, but Ruggie is 1000% a gnoll. It just fits him perfectly! I even found pics of a cute one selling his wares and just went, Ruggie would so do that to make a buck.

With Leona I do see how Nemean Lion works for his status as a ruler, but I feel like sphynx fits so much better. Leona is so much smarter than he pretends to be. Sphinx like to play with their food in some myths I’ve read and that reminds me of Leona’s plan for the tournament. Not to mention lots of the art I’ve seen decorates the sphinx in tons of gold and jewels. 

Octavinelle-

For the sea trio I wanted to really lean into the monster inspiration. Not only are they mermen still, but they are a monster out size. Descendents of the great monsters Scylla do Charybdis they can tear apart full ships and devour large beasts. I see the tweels circling and creating a whirlpool or teeth like Charybdis, while Azul hides in a cave and picks off any escaping like Scylla. Makes them an even deadlier trio! 

Scarabia- 

I went looking for a creature to reflect Kalim’s cheerful nature and maybe his love of music. I was lucky to find the Shadhavar, a unicorn-like creature said to bring joy to those around it. The horn on its head is hollow and is supposed to play the most beautiful sounds. Not to mention stories of kings and other royalty paying lots of gold to try and get one in their collection. 

Jamil on the other hand is a Naga, as it fits his personality and name to a tee. I’m thinking of basing him off a sand viper but I am still looking at options. 

Pomfiore-

Epel’s connection with apples is what I wanted to focus on. So I went with a simple apple tree dryad/tree nymph. 

Rook’s nature to hunt put one thing in mind for me, a headless horseman/huntsman, also known as a Dullahan. Rook refused to give up the hunt in life, or in death (joking). Rook seems to have a poisonous smoke wafting from his neck when his head is not attached (courtesy of Vil).

Vil is inspired by the original sirens or Greek myth (bird women also sometimes classified with harpies) and the more modern idea of sirens as more mermaid-like. Either way his beauty and voice draw others in, either to their doom or to heap praise upon him. But do NOT underestimate Vil, both sides of his family are viciously savage when scorned. 

Ignihyde- 

For Idia and Ortho I mixed Will-o’-wisps and a local legend of ghost lights. They are meant to be benevolent, leading lost souls home or the dead to the afterlife. But to not ever try to harm them, their fire can burn your very soul out of existence. Feel like this can really work with Idia not liking being near others (always floating just out of reach) and Ortho’s helpful nature. 

Diasomnia- 

Originally I was going for a more crocodilian monster, but then I saw Kobolds in the D&D manual. The fact that some play them off as worshiping dragons, being brash and loud, not always the most socially aware… So does Sebek know he’s a Kobold?

For Silver I thought about the Baku for a sec, but I feel like a Nightmare centaur is just perfect for Silver. Pulls on his equestrian training and his unique magic. Though instead of spreading nightmares I imagine he would fight them off. 

Lilia is a vampire bat fae, not really much different than he is in the original game. 

Malleus is also pretty similar to how he is in game. I plan to lean into how his type of dragon is different in my world and how he has more bird tendencies from his father, not to mention play with his demon heritage.

Staff- 

For Crowley I wanted to really focus on his desire to share information. He may not be a great headmage in game but he has a slightly different role in my story. I made him a Crow Herold, basically a spirit of knowledge that tries to pass it on like how crows teach their young.

Crewel needs his coat, selkie can not be beat. I know there are other tales of creature taking off their coat/skin to reveal a person beneath, but selkies just felt more like they fit Crewel (especially with how brutal seals and sea lions can be). 

Sam is a deal maker, a business man, he will get you what you ask as long as you pay the price. He is a crossroads demon who is trying to get people to see that demons stick to their deals. They have more in common with the rule following fae and fairies than most like to admit. 

Trien’s long live and knowledge of history feels most important to my story so I wanted a creature known for their intelligence. He started off as a Griffin before he shifted to a Hippogriff due to my story changing. He is calm and kind, very nurturing, but do keep in mind he still has claws.

Vargas is a Minotaur, strong, proud, and bullheaded. He can be kind, especially to the younger creatures, but he can have a hairpin trigger at times.

Others-

Grim is a chimera, though he may look like an odd cat creature now, he will grow more and more of his features over time. Right now he has some tiny bat wings and his tail has fangs (but not a full snakes head).

 Rollo is a phoenix, as he needs an association with fire, but I felt like the phoenix makes his story more tragic. He can survive what his brother could not and it haunts him to this very day. 

Fellow is a Huli Jing, while he may not be outright malicious he is a trickster and he will defend his brother to the death. He has many tricks but his magic is not the strongest.

I see Gino as a young bakeneko. Fellow is helping him learn to control his shape shifting and illusions, but the lack of voice makes some of his magic useless or difficult. 

Chenya on the other hand is an oddity among his species. Most matagots are black cats so Chenya’s colorful coat stands out. He quite likes that fact but does wonder where it came from. He’s seen as mostly a household spirit, but do remember matagots can bring ruin when necessary. 

Neige felt like he needed a cute creature that is more often overlooked. Pixies and sprites can be cute and are usually associated with light and whimsy, but they do have plenty of stories of leading others astray and attacking. Neige is genuinely sweet and wants the best for others, especially for the dwarves in his care, but he will fight when needed. 

Skully as a revenant just makes sense for me. A spirit who can never pass on, drifting in and out of places. He usually sticks around the area where he died, feeling lost anywhere else. It is unsure if Skully was a human in his past life or one of the other human-like creatures since he can’t really remember too much of his past. 

The Great Seven-

The Queen of Hearts (named Cordelia) is a mix of Flora Fae and Tinker Fairy. Flora Fae comes from the great amount of flowers and other flora in Alice in Wonderland. She has a tie to all of the all of the plant life, and like Riddle her odd rules. Tinker fairy ties into Disney lore for fairies like Tinkerbell. They build and craft things, leading to her building her queendom. 

Scar is a sphinx just like his descendents, but he has Nemean Lion mixed in making him so much stronger and near invincible. 

Ursula was born a simple Cecaelia but through hard work and magical practice she became a Scylla. So big and so terrifying that no one dared challenge her kingdom.

Jafar on the other hand, had to hide his Basalik lineage for a while, as many still saw them as wild beasts. He proved to his people that while they had deadly abilities beyond that of their naga cousins, they could be just as amiable as the other snakes.

Grimhilde is a raven harpy, with feathers so black they make the night sky look grey. But when you look closely you see a rainbow of colors as her feathers shine like jewels. While most can not tell of her banshee ancestry by appearance she is said to have  fought of invaders with her deathly wail. Her people still called her fairest of all after seeing her old hag form for she was beautiful no matter the appearance.

Hades is like Scar, he matches his descendants, but he was more. On top of being a will-o-wisp he was a powerful fire fae, some think maybe even an infernal. His fires blazed so hot that he is said to have melted an entire army.

Maleficent’s a dragon fae like normal, but I also added Celestial fae. Said to be born of the new moon she holds a great relationship with the night. Some even say she was the first nocturnal fae to have woken from the wild.

[noirscript]

dark roast | chapter three

Pairing: Laurent Delacroix × Reader Description: You thought you were making your own choices. But Laurent was always there—watching, guiding, ensuring every step led you straight to him. And now, there’s no way out. Series Warnings: Yandere | Manipulation | Coercion | Power Imbalance | Stalking | Obsessive Behavior | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Threats | Intimidation Update Schedule: Every Saturday. GMT+8. Note: This is part of a completed ebook available on my kofi shop! Your support is highly appreciated. Now on sale! Enjoy 50% discount by clicking this link! ^^ That being said, apologize for the delay and enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

You should feel relieved.

You should feel free.

That’s what you tell yourself as you step into your apartment, tossing your bag onto the couch with more force than necessary. The door clicks shut behind you, locking out the world, but it doesn’t lock out the weight settling in your chest.

You exhale slowly, pressing your palms against your temples.

It’s over.

Frosty Café is behind you. The struggle, the uncertainty, the constant dread of whether your next paycheck would even arrive—all of it is over.

So why does it feel like you’ve lost something?

You lower your hands, staring at the dimly lit room around you. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

The realization sinks in then—you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. No shift to prepare for. No early mornings to dread.

For the first time in years, your schedule is completely empty.

And it terrifies you.

You sink onto the couch, running a hand through your hair.

Maybe your best friend was right. Maybe this is better. A clean slate. A new start. A job that won’t drain you to the bone.

But you can’t shake the feeling that the decision wasn’t really yours.

And that’s what unsettles you the most.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

The sun is already high by the time you arrive at Ignis.

The sign above the door gleams under the morning light—bold, striking, new. Unlike Frosty Café, where the paint had started peeling and the windows fogged over from age, this place is untouched.

A blank slate.

You step inside, feeling the sharp contrast immediately. The interior is sleek, modern—polished counters, warm lighting, high ceilings designed to make the space feel open and inviting.

There’s a buzz of energy in the air. Excitement. Possibility.

Today is the grand opening.

And you are the one running it.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

“Finally! There you are!”

You barely have time to register the voice before your best friend sweeps in, grinning. She’s dressed sharper than usual—a tailored blazer, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

The look of someone important. Someone in charge.

“I was starting to think you’d run away,” she teases.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “Not yet.”

She laughs, then gestures around. “Well? What do you think?”

You exhale, taking another look. It’s beautiful. Immaculate. A part of you still can’t believe this place is real, let alone that you’re standing here as the manager.

“It’s… a lot.” You smile, shaking your head. “But it’s amazing.”

“Damn right, it is.” She nudges you. “And it’s only going to get better once you work your magic.”

You let out a small laugh, but there’s still a lingering weight in your chest.

Frosty Café is behind you.

This is your new beginning.

So why does it still feel like something is out of your control?

Your best friend claps her hands together, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Alright, before the staff starts rolling in, let me give you the full tour.”

You follow her as she walks toward the counter, the sound of her heels tapping against the floor a sharp contrast to the quiet hum of the refrigerators.

She gestures to the espresso machines first. Brand new. Top of the line. Unlike the half-broken one you used to wrestle with at Frosty Café, these machines are sleek, untouched—capable of brewing multiple drinks at once with near-perfect consistency.

Next, she leads you behind the counter, showing you the carefully arranged rows of syrups, coffee beans, and tea blends, each neatly labeled and color-coded.

“Orders will be processed through this system,” she says, pointing to the touchscreen register. “It syncs directly with inventory, so we’ll always know when we’re running low on supplies.”

You nod, taking everything in. It’s all so well-organized, so efficient.

Finally, she pushes open the door to the storage area. You step inside, your footsteps muffled against the cool, tiled floor. Metal shelves line the walls, fully stocked. Bags of coffee beans, stacks of to-go cups, rows of bottled syrups—it’s the complete opposite of the near-empty supply room you left behind at Frosty.

Everything here is planned, controlled.

For some reason, that makes your stomach twist.

When you turn back, your best friend is watching you, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re going to do great here,” she says. “I know it.”

You barely have a moment to process everything before the first employees start arriving.

One by one, they step through the doors, shaking off the lingering morning chill before greeting your best friend—their boss. You recognize a few faces from the interview process, but most of them are strangers.

For now.

Your best friend introduces you to each of them, their names blending together in the whirlwind of new faces.

Elise – the supervisor. She’s sharp, efficient, and carries herself with the calm confidence of someone who’s done this before. She gives you a firm handshake, her smile polite but distant.

Marco – the head barista. Tall, easygoing, and clearly passionate about coffee. He grins as he gestures to the espresso machines. “I promise I’ll teach you how to make the perfect shot. No offense, but I heard Frosty’s machines were kinda ancient.”

You snort. “None taken. They were held together by sheer willpower.”

A few others follow—young baristas, cashiers, and kitchen staff, each bringing their own energy to the space.

It’s different from Frosty Café. New. Unknown. But not necessarily bad.

You exhale, rolling your shoulders.

This is real. This is happening.

You are no longer an employee struggling to hold onto a failing café.

You are the manager of Ignis.

The morning rush comes and goes, and soon the café settles into a steady rhythm. Orders flow in. The espresso machine hums. The scent of fresh pastries and ground coffee fills the air.

For the first time since you stepped through the doors, you finally feel like you can breathe.

And then, just past noon—

The bell above the door chimes.

You glance up, instinctively ready to greet the customer.

That’s when you see him.

A man steps inside, dressed in an immaculate charcoal-gray suit, his presence effortlessly commanding without trying to be.

You don’t know why, but something about him makes the air shift—a quiet, unspoken gravity that pulls attention toward him.

You’re not the only one who notices.

Elise subtly straightens. Marco, in the middle of steaming milk, flicks a glance toward the man before quickly looking away.

It’s not fear. Not exactly.

Just… awareness.

Like they recognize something about him that you don’t.

Yet.

He steps forward, his gaze sweeping over the café with quiet interest before settling on the menu above the counter. He seems completely at ease, unaffected by the subtle shift in atmosphere.

Just another customer.

You clear your throat, slipping into your usual routine.

“Welcome to Ignis. What can I get for you?”

The man—Laurent—lifts his gaze from the menu, his expression unreadable for a brief second before he meets your eyes.

Up close, he’s even more striking.

Sharp features. Eyes dark and steady, like they miss nothing. His suit fits perfectly, tailored to precision, the fabric smooth and untouched by the rain outside.

Everything about him is controlled. Deliberate.

But what unsettles you—just a little—is how composed he is.

Like he belongs here.

Like he’s been waiting.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passes.

His lips curve into something almost amused. Polite. Approachable.

“A Dark Roast,” he says smoothly, his voice low, rich—the kind that demands attention without needing to raise in volume.

The way he says it—without hesitation, without needing to consider any other option—makes something in your chest tighten.

He knew exactly what he wanted before stepping inside.

Your fingers hover over the register for a brief moment before you nod, punching in the order. “Any sugar or milk with that?”

Laurent tilts his head slightly. “Would that ruin the point of a Dark Roast?”

You pause, caught off guard by the way his words are calm, but teasing.

Then, before you can stop yourself, you let out a soft laugh. “Fair.”

Something shifts in his expression—subtle, but there.

Not surprise. Not amusement.

Satisfaction.

It’s gone in an instant, his face returning to that same measured ease as he reaches into his wallet.

“How much?”

You tell him the price, and he slides a crisp bill across the counter without even glancing at the total. His movements are smooth, unrushed. He doesn’t fumble with coins, doesn’t hesitate the way most people do when deciding on cash or card.

Everything he does has precision.

As you pass him his change, Elise clears her throat from somewhere behind you, and you catch the way she shifts slightly—not nervous, not uncomfortable, but aware.

Like she’s waiting for something.

But Laurent doesn’t look at her.

He only looks at you.

You glance at the cup beside you, reaching for the marker. “Name?”

Laurent doesn’t answer immediately.

For a moment, it almost feels like he’s considering lying.

Then—

“Laurent.”

The name rolls off his tongue effortlessly.

You nod, scribbling it onto the cup before passing it over to Marco, who starts preparing the drink.

And when you call his name to hand him his coffee, something about the way he thanks you—the way his fingers just barely brush yours as he takes the cup—feels deliberate.

A moment stretched just long enough to linger.

You shake off the thought.

It’s nothing.

Just another customer.

Laurent returns the next day.

And the day after that.

It happens so naturally that you don’t think much of it at first. He always comes alone, always at the same time—somewhere between the late morning rush and the early afternoon lull.

Always orders the same thing.

Dark Roast. No sugar. No milk.

At first, he’s just another customer.

One of the many faces passing through Ignis, blending into the café’s steady rhythm.

But then—

You start recognizing the small details.

The way he never lingers too long in line, timing his visits perfectly so he never has to wait. The way he always seems to make eye contact first, like he already knew exactly where you’d be standing behind the counter.

The way, on particularly slow afternoons, he doesn’t just take his coffee and leave.

He stays.

And somehow, you start remembering more about him than you should.

“You always order the same thing.”

Laurent pauses, fingers resting against the rim of his cup. Today, he’s seated near the counter, a book in his other hand—an old leather-bound edition, pages worn from use.

He looks up at you, lips curving slightly. Like he expected you to say something.

“You noticed?”

You huff a small laugh, wiping down the counter. “You come here almost every day, and you’ve never once tried anything else.”

His expression doesn’t change. But something about his gaze—steady, focused—makes your stomach flip.

“You disapprove?” he asks, voice smooth, like the question amuses him.

You shake your head. “No, just… curious.”

Laurent hums, glancing down at his drink. Faint wisps of steam curl from the surface, disappearing into the air.

“Some things,” he murmurs, fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic, “are meant to be constant.”

You frown at the choice of words, but before you can say anything, he shifts the focus back to you.

“What about you?” he asks, tilting his head. “Do you always stick to what’s familiar?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question.

Laurent watches you, his expression calm but expectant. Like he’s genuinely curious about your answer.

You shift your weight, running a hand over the cloth in your grip. “I guess it depends,” you admit. “Some things… it’s easier to stick to what you know. But other times—” You shrug. “Change isn’t so bad.”

His lips twitch, like he’s amused by something. “And which category do I fall into?”

You stare at him, unsure how to respond.

Because somehow, you already know—Laurent is not something familiar.

He’s something else entirely.

A sharp contrast to everything you’ve known.

And yet…

You find yourself drawn in.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

Laurent keeps coming back.

He never asks for anything more than his coffee, never stays long enough to seem out of place. But the space he occupies in your mind lingers longer than it should.

And, eventually, your conversations become normal.

Expected.

Small moments in between orders.

At first, it’s just little observations—weather, books, the odd comment about the café. He never asks about your personal life. Never pries.

And maybe that’s why you start letting things slip anyway.

Because somehow, he’s easy to talk to.

And the more you talk, the more you fail to notice what’s changing.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

One afternoon, he arrives earlier than usual.

The café isn’t too busy yet, just a handful of customers scattered across the seats, the low hum of conversation filling the space.

You’re restocking cups when Laurent steps inside, and without even thinking, you glance up and smile.

It happens so naturally that you don’t even question it.

And the strangest part?

He smiles back.

Not polite. Not forced.

Genuine.

Warm.

Like it’s meant just for you.

The day continues as usual. Orders come in, drinks are made, and the hours pass in the steady rhythm of the café. Yet, something feels different. It’s subtle—so subtle you almost miss it. Maybe it’s the way you keep glancing toward the corner where he sits, even when you don’t mean to. Maybe it’s the way your heart stutters when you catch him watching first.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Laurent is starting to feel familiar.

“You always bring a book.”

Laurent looks up from his drink, his fingers idly resting against the spine of whatever he’s reading today. His gaze meets yours, steady, expectant. “You’ve been paying attention again.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “You sit in the same spot every time. Kind of hard not to.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips. “Maybe I just like consistency.”

“Or maybe you just don’t like change.”

Something flickers in his expression—quick, almost unreadable. Then he exhales, setting the book aside. “And what about you?” he asks. “Do you prefer change?”

You hesitate. He asked you something similar before, didn’t he? You feel like you should remember, but the memory is just out of reach.

“I think it depends,” you say slowly, echoing your words from last time. “Some things are worth changing.”

Laurent hums, considering this. “And some things?”

“…Should stay the same.”

His gaze lingers a moment longer than it should before a satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

Laurent doesn’t come every day. But when he does, you always seem to notice him first. And for now, you don’t question it.

Some days, he’s already there when you start your shift, seated at his usual table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup as if he’s been waiting. Other times, he walks in just as the rush dies down, as if he knows exactly when you’ll have a moment to breathe.

You tell yourself it’s just routine. A pattern, nothing more.

And yet, you don’t react this way to other regulars.

It’s not just that he comes in frequently. It’s that he always makes his presence known.

Not in an overbearing way. Never intrusive. Just… there.

Like when you’re reaching for a heavy box in the back, only for a voice behind you to say, “Let me.” And before you can protest, Laurent is already there, lifting it with ease, his sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the strong lines of his forearms.

Or when you step outside for air on a particularly stressful day and find him leaning against the railing, sipping his usual Dark Roast. He notices you before you can slip away, offering a small nod as if this is just another normal afternoon. As if he belongs here, in your space.

But the most dangerous moments are the smallest ones.

Like the way your fingers brush when he hands you his payment. Or how, once or twice, he doesn’t just leave his book on the table—he slides it toward you, an unspoken invitation.

“You read?” he asks one evening, when the café is quieter than usual.

You shrug, running a damp cloth over the counter. “When I have time.”

“Make time.” He slides his bookmark into place before closing the book. “It’s a shame to go through life without indulging in a few good stories.”

You roll your eyes, but when he leaves, your gaze drifts to the abandoned book on the table. He doesn’t come back for it.

It sits there for hours.

And eventually—you pick it up.

Laurent never asks if you read it.

He doesn’t have to.

The next time he comes in, he simply raises a brow, eyes flickering to where the book used to be.

You sigh. “It was… interesting.”

His lips quirk up at the corner. “I knew you’d like it.”

You frown. “I never said I liked it.”

Laurent hums, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You didn’t have to.”

And somehow, that conversation stays with you longer than it should.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

At some point, without realizing it, you start expecting him.

It happens so naturally that you don’t even notice at first. One day, he’s just another regular customer—nothing more than a familiar presence in the café. But then the pattern forms. He comes in at just the right moments, when the rush has died down, when you finally have a second to breathe.

When he doesn’t show up for a day or two, you tell yourself you don’t notice.

But you do.

The café feels just a little quieter, just a little off without him there.

You catch yourself glancing toward the entrance whenever the bell chimes, half-expecting to see his familiar silhouette stepping inside. And when a new order pops up on the register, your hands move automatically, ready to write Laurent before you even hear the customer’s name.

It’s stupid. So, so stupid.

But when he finally does appear again, when he walks in with the usual ease in his stride, his gaze sweeping across the café before landing on you—you feel your shoulders relax.

Like something has fallen into place.

And you don’t know why.

Laurent moves through the café like he’s always belonged there, slipping into his usual spot near the window. He didn't immediately open his book today. Instead, he rests his fingers lightly against his cup, as if waiting for the warmth to sink in, his dark eyes quietly observing the space around him.

The conversation between you has shifted in the past few weeks, settling into something that feels effortless.

At first, it was just passing remarks—small observations, nothing personal. But lately, the exchanges have stretched longer, drawn-out moments that linger even after you return to your tasks.

“You always order the same thing,” you remark one day as you slide his coffee across the counter.

Laurent lifts his gaze from his book, amusement flickering in his expression. “You noticed?”

“You come here almost every day. It’s hard not to.”

A small smirk tugs at his lips. “Maybe I just like consistency.”

“Or maybe you just don’t like change.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—brief, unreadable. Then, after a pause, he exhales, closing his book with an unhurried motion.

“And what about you?” he asks. “Do you prefer change?”

The question lingers, heavier than it should.

You hesitate, because he’s asked you something similar before, hasn’t he?

“I think it depends,” you say slowly, echoing your own words from last time. “Some things are worth changing.”

Laurent hums in quiet consideration, his fingers tapping against the ceramic cup. “And some things?”

“…Should stay the same.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, his gaze unwavering. Then—he smiles.

It’s subtle, but something about it makes your stomach tighten. Like he’s satisfied with your answer.

Your best friend notices the shift before you do.

One afternoon, while wiping down the counter, she throws you a look that’s just a little too knowing.

“He’s got you hooked,” she teases, nudging you playfully with her elbow.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “He’s a customer.”

“A customer you smile at more than the others.”

“I smile at everyone,” you argue.

She hums, unconvinced. “Maybe. But not like that.”

You shake your head, refusing to indulge her any further, but later—when Laurent takes his usual seat, book in hand, Dark Roast in front of him—you find yourself distracted.

You’re not sure when it happened.

But somehow, he’s become part of your routine.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

You don’t expect to see him outside the café.

Laurent exists within the neatly structured rhythm of Ignis—a presence tied to steaming cups of Dark Roast, worn leather books, and conversations that always leave you thinking. That’s where he belongs.

So when you spot him outside of work, in a place that has nothing to do with coffee or routine, it throws you off balance.

You’re walking home from a late shift, the evening air crisp against your skin. The streets are quieter at this hour, the rush of the day fading into the distant hum of traffic. You tuck your hands into your coat pockets, lost in thought, when a familiar figure catches your attention.

Laurent stands near a street vendor, his posture relaxed, one hand slipping into his coat as he waits for his order. Even in something as simple as this, he looks composed—out of place among the casual crowd but never uncomfortable.

You should keep walking.

You should ignore the sudden pull in your chest, the inexplicable curiosity that keeps you rooted in place.

But before you can decide, he turns—and his eyes meet yours.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Then, as if nothing about this is unusual, he smiles.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he remarks, stepping closer, his voice carrying easily over the quiet buzz of the street.

You blink, trying to shake the feeling of unease—not because he’s here, but because you can’t quite figure out why it unsettles you. “Same goes for you.”

He follows your gaze toward the vendor and smirks. “What? Did you think I only survived on coffee?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly? Kind of.”

Laurent exhales a quiet chuckle, then gestures toward the cart. “You should try this one. Best late-night food in the area.”

You hesitate, but before you can respond, he’s already turning back to the vendor, adding another order without asking if you even wanted one.

It should annoy you—the assumption, the casual way he takes control of the situation.

But instead, when he hands you the warm takeout container, you accept it without argument.

“Do you always do that?” you ask, arching a brow.

Laurent tilts his head. “Do what?”

“Decide things for people.”

His lips twitch slightly, as if the question amuses him. “Only when I know they’ll enjoy the outcome.”

You roll your eyes, but when you take the first bite, the flavors burst across your tongue—rich, comforting, exactly what you needed after a long shift.

Laurent watches you closely, waiting.

You sigh. “Okay. Fine. You win this time.”

His smirk deepens. “I always do.”

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.

It’s just a coincidence.

Just a casual interaction outside of work.

But later that night, as you set your things down and sink onto the couch, you realize something.

You don’t feel uneasy anymore.

Instead, you feel something far more dangerous.

Comfortable.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

The days at Ignis slip into something resembling routine. It’s different from Frosty Café—sharper, sleeker, less personal. But at the very least, it’s stable. You don’t have to count every cent before buying groceries. You don’t have to brace yourself before opening your banking app.

And Laurent is always there.

At first, it’s just another familiar face in the café. Plenty of customers return out of habit, and you assume he’s no different. But there’s something about him—his presence, the way he carries himself—that makes it impossible to forget he’s there.

He never calls attention to himself, yet he’s always positioned just within your line of sight. He times his visits perfectly, arriving just as the morning rush dies down or slipping in during the late afternoon lull when the café is at its quietest. It’s as if he understands the rhythm of the place, the flow of your day.

One evening, as you place his usual order—Dark Roast, no sugar, no milk—on the table, he glances up from his book. “Settling in well?”

You nod, shifting the tray to your other hand. “I think so. It’s a lot to get used to, but I’m managing.”

Laurent hums, stirring his coffee even though he never adds anything to it. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, like he’s considering something. “You always do.”

There’s something about the way he says it—assured, certain, like he’s known you far longer than he actually has. The weight of his gaze lingers just a second too long before he finally looks back down at his book.

You push the thought aside, chalking it up to his usual mannerisms, but the words follow you through the evening.

A few days later, as you wipe down the counter after closing, your best friend lingers nearby, flipping through the weekly reports. She doesn’t usually stick around this late, which makes you glance up from your work.

“Laurent likes you,” she says, her tone casual.

You blink. “What?”

She gestures toward his usual seat by the window, though he left nearly an hour ago. “He comes here for you. You know that, right?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “He comes here because we have good coffee.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Maybe.” Then, after a pause, “He’s… intense, isn’t he?”

Something about the way she says it makes you pause. You glance at the empty seat, the ghost of Laurent’s presence still lingering there in the back of your mind.

“Why do you say that?” you ask.

Your best friend shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

You brush it off, but later that night, as you step out into the cool evening air, her words return to you.

Laurent is nice.

Maybe too nice.

And for some reason, that thought unsettles you more than it should.

━━━ ✦ ━━━

The next morning, you arrive at Ignis earlier than usual. The café isn’t officially open yet, but the warm scent of coffee already lingers in the air as the first batch brews in the sleek, high-end machines. You take a moment to enjoy the quiet—the peaceful lull before the doors open and the day properly begins.

Your best friend is already there, seated in the back office, flipping through paperwork with a frown. You knock lightly against the open door frame, and she glances up, surprised.

"You’re early," she notes.

You shrug. "Figured I’d get a head start."

She hums in approval but doesn’t look entirely convinced. "You didn’t have trouble sleeping, did you?"

You hesitate. The question catches you off guard, but before you can answer, she smirks. "I was kidding, but that look on your face tells me everything."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "It’s nothing. Just… adjusting."

She studies you for a moment, her usual teasing expression shifting into something closer to concern. "You know, you don’t have to push yourself so hard. This isn’t Frosty Café."

You force a smile. "I know."

She doesn’t look entirely convinced but doesn’t press further.

Before the conversation can continue, the front door chimes. The café isn’t open yet—no one should be coming in this early. You exchange a glance with your best friend before stepping out of the office.

Laurent stands by the entrance, the faintest trace of amusement curving his lips as he takes in the sight of you behind the counter.

"Good morning," he greets smoothly, as if it’s completely normal for him to be here before opening hours.

Your best friend stiffens beside you.

You blink. "We’re not open yet."

Laurent lifts his hand slightly, revealing a small, carefully wrapped pastry box. "A gift," he explains. "For the manager."

You hesitate before stepping closer, watching as he sets the box onto the counter. "You didn’t have to do that."

"Of course I did." His tone is light, but there’s something intentional about the way he says it. "You’ve been working hard. Consider it a token of appreciation."

Your best friend remains quiet beside you, watching the exchange with an unreadable expression.

You glance at the box, then back at Laurent. "How did you even get in?"

Laurent chuckles softly. "Your barista, Marco, was kind enough to let me in while he prepped the machines. He seems like a good employee."

You exhale, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. "I guess I can let it slide, just this once."

Laurent tilts his head slightly, something knowing flickering in his dark eyes. "I appreciate your generosity."

There’s nothing in his words that should make you uneasy. Nothing in his expression that should set you on edge. But as he takes a sip of the coffee he must have helped himself to, you feel it again—that quiet, unshakable presence.

Always there.

Always watching.

You don’t say anything as he lingers a moment longer before finally, with a polite nod, he turns and leaves.

Your best friend exhales the second the door closes behind him. "Okay, seriously. What is that about?"

You glance down at the pastry box, feeling the weight of the gesture settle in your stomach.

"I don’t know," you admit.

And that, more than anything, is what unsettles you.

End of Chapter Three.

noirscript © 2025

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[ddarker-dreams]

Do Puppets Dream of Electric Sheep?

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“What am I to you?” 

He stills. Your voice is as gentle as a mother crooning a lullaby to her newborn. Sweet, mild. Not intending to startle the sensitive creature who is unaccustomed to this world. It regurgitates memories of his progenitor. He can never clearly recall her countenance or the exact pitch of her voice, there are only formless blurs and warbled words that sounded far away. 

It is a small mercy that he never made out the specifics of her face. For it allows him to envision her in whatever manner suits him best. She can be the scheming Niwa Hisahide who sought to manipulate him, the sickly child who left him behind, or the mendacious kitsune whose promises for aid went unkept. His mother is the locus of his rage that branches out and bears rotten fruit.

You cease your previous task of combing his hair from behind. Artificial heat burns his cheeks when your chest presses against his back, your arms coiling around his slender shoulders like tendrils. The hold is tight enough to almost hurt. 

“Say, are you listening?” Your lips brush against his ear. He shivers. “Well, puppet?” 

Furniture clatters in a cacophony of noise. 

He stares at you, incredulous, his lips parting only to close again. He cycles through emotions and is unable to settle on one. 

How do…? You shouldn’t know that!

You pay him no mind. You fix the victims of his outburst, setting the stool upright and straightening the vanity’s various implements. Then you sit where he sat, smoothing the wrinkles in your skirt as you do so. You face him instead of the mirror, which has cracked into three disjointed fragments. 

The scene before him arouses confusion, then suspicion. His eyes eventually find their way to the mirror behind you. He barks a laugh at what he sees. The sound reverberates in the tiny room. Electro concentrates in his hands, crackling and ready to stain his surroundings crimson. He gives a malicious grin. 

It reflects in the cracked mirror, whereas your form does not. 

“A cheap parlor trick,” he muses. “I should’ve figured.” 

You aren’t her, he thinks. And how grateful he is to realize it. 

“I’m not?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. What is this being capable of hearing his thoughts? The curve of your smile epitomizes everything you’ve never been: cruel and provocative. This ignis fatuus who dares to assume your form makes no attempt to flee from the attack writhing in his palms. “Well, I suppose there’s some truth to that. What you’re looking at now is what I am to become, not my present, corporeal self.” 

He studies “you” carefully. The pigmentation of your eyes, your intonation, and your body language; it lines up uncannily well, but your word choice is peculiar. There’s a callousness begotten to those burdened by esoteric knowledge, an experience he’s intimately familiar with. This can’t be a poorly executed emulation devised by that medical charlatan excommunicated by his peers, or an experience that aligns with the continuity of Teyvat’s laws. 

Is his conscious being tampered with by the gods? 

“I’m afraid not. We both know that panopticon has no interest in you. No, discarded prototype, think back to your creation. When was it determined you’d be of no use to Beelzebul?” 

He grits his teeth. That intrusive introspection is coming into play again. It’s as if his innermost sentiments have been printed out in large lettering for you to scrutinize. 

“So you’ve finally realized, although you’re hesitant to think it. I can’t blame you, nothing good ever comes from your dreams. Since you don’t require sleep, you were able to avoid this for some time… in trying to play human with me in reality, you’ll be judged by me in the one state where you are utterly powerless.” 

The energy gathering in his hand dissipates without him willing it. He tries in vain to summon it again, but the element no longer heeds his command. Clicking his tongue, he sits on the edge of the bed, then crosses his arms over his chest. He chastises himself for not noticing sooner. This room may appear to be an exact replica of the one you share, but the slightest details in its geometry betray the realm of possibility. Certain angles bend in inconceivable ways, the ceiling itself is drooping down like a viscous gel, the descent so slow, it’s near imperceptible. 

Dreams, pesky as they may be, are always destined to end. He need only wait for this torment to run its course. 

“If that’s the stance you’ve decided to take, why not answer my question?” 

He feigns ignorance for a beat, despite knowing full well the inquiry you’re referring to. You allow him his temporary repose. 

“What you are to me is a nuisance. A meaningless manifestation that I’ll forget about as soon as I wake,” he replies. How strange it is, taking this baleful tone toward an image of you. You are the sole individual he doesn’t regard with pure loathing, and as such, he treats you with a tenderness he thought himself previously incapable of. He can’t recall a time when contempt felt unnatural, like the first time he mimicked human breathing. 

This veneer of nonchalance is forced and he knows it. The mirage taking on your comely likeness is seeping under his synthetic skin, spreading malaise and decay. 

“Oh? That’s an awfully bold statement, but, nevertheless, let’s entertain it a while longer.” 

You clap twice and the surroundings shift. 

His limbs are dragged upward by an unrelenting force — red strings as formidable as piano wire. He struggles out of instinct. This futile act only serves to tighten the binds. Upon realizing this, he goes limp, noting that your presence is no longer visible. 

He has an unobstructed view of the cracked mirror, its jagged edges displaying three different images. 

To the left, he sees himself wearing the outfit he first awoke with, the golden feather dangling from his neck. The middlemost portion is accurate in its portrayal, unlike the others. It shows the glint of the mitsudomoe symbol upon his chest which he considers his birthright. The right fragment is nearly indiscernible, aside from hues of teal that swirl as if spurred on by the wind. 

The mirror shatters.

Light footsteps circle around him. He wrenches his head in the direction of the ambient sounds, identifying no clear source. 

“Even if you forget about me now, according to your designs, we’ll meet again. This “me” that’s been tainted and corrupted by your selfish intent. In trying to preserve me, you’ll be my ruin. You already know that though, don’t you? That your desperate clinging will drag us both down to unfathomable depths. It’s true, that by never letting me die, you’ll have an eternity with me…” 

You materialize in front of him, standing with your hands behind your back. The casual stance is at odds with the venom you spew forth. Just as before, everything about your physical appearance is correct, save for a single, damning detail. Your eyes glow a luminescent violet — that of Inazuma’s reclusive deity, whose gnosis he intends to commandeer, even if he must tear it from her himself. 

“But is that the eternity you truly wish for?” 

It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. 

What else was he to do? 

Watch helplessly as your biological clock ticks on while the hands on his remain frozen in place? Witness your final until you breathe your last breath, then allow your husk to be buried in the cold, unfeeling ground? His is a life of apprehension. That by some cruel twist of fate, you’ll fall victim to the many pitfalls mortals are vulnerable to. Illness, injury, violence, the list goes on and on. His overactive imagination serves as a personal purgatory that churns out images of your downfall every moment he is not by your side. 

Upon returning to your quaint little cottage on the outskirts of civilization, trepidation eats at him like maggots upon a corpse. If he can’t find you tending to your garden, baking in your kitchen, or lounging on the swing hanging from the old oak tree in your front yard, madness slithers at his heels, ready to pierce him with its fangs. 

You may never forgive him, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he let the one thing he cherishes in this joke of a world leave him behind. 

“I won't look at you the way I once did. The me who speaks your true name, spends days wondering when you’ll return from your traveling ‘job’, gladly welcomes you into her bed, granting you access to her most sacred body and soul; you will never see her again. She will exist in your memory alone.”  

Your pointer finger hovers over his trembling lower lip, then descends, over his Adam’s apple and in between his collarbones. 

“Having savored these pleasures once freely given, you’ll have no choice but to take them by force. You’ll defile me and insist it’s worship. Bitterness might whet your palate, but you’ll never have your fill. Can you call that love, poor puppet? Or will you rightfully refer to it as ownership?” 

All verbal exchanges cease. 

In this nightmare blurring the lines of what if, where he is but a spectator rather than an active participant, he laughs. It echoes in his hollow chest cavity where no fleshly heart beats. Your physiognomy goes blank in the face of such blatant malignity. He hangs here, a tossed-aside marionette, consumed by a paroxysm of emotion he once swore to wipe clean from his chest. 

“If this is an attempt to appeal to my conscience, it won’t work,” his grin nearly splits his face in two. “Harass me every night, for all I care. I’ll accept it. I’ll accept anything. Every form of you… every possible iteration, no matter how unsightly, beautiful, indifferent, or anything in between, I want it. There isn’t a version of you that can deter me. The real you offered herself to me for a lifetime — who am I to turn down such an alluring offer?” 

You pull away from him. 

The absence of your touch is worse than any physical torture you could inflict. He’ll take your loving caresses, your hand ripping into his chest, so long as he can familiarize himself with your genuine warmth. Such is the resolve of a puppet who has endured the biting blizzard of loneliness. Destroy him and he’d rebuild. Ignore him and he’ll pry the words from your mouth. Attempt to leave him and he’ll ensnare you in a trap that neither of you can escape from. 

This advocate for your future is washed away in a sea of ink, black as night, untouchable and ever-present as a shadow. The cascading wave swallows you whole. 

You depart with a final threnody.

��Until we meet again, then.” 

…

…

…

Something brushes over his cheek. 

“... Kuni? Kunikuzushi? Ah, what do I do, you aren’t waking up…! Insults? Do I try insults? Uh, you’re of less than average height—”

“Quiet down, woman, you’re loud,” Scaramouche complains with a groan.

You’re hovering above him. It’s a heavenly sight — if he were a believer in such things — the upturning of your eyebrows, the flow of your hair tousled by interrupted sleep, and the temptation of your soft, parted lips. Warmth emanates from your body. He delights in it. Swears a silent oath to himself that he’ll never be without it. 

“The insult worked,” you whisper, content with your quick thinking. Then, remembering the situation, you’re back to fussing over him. “Are you okay? You must’ve been having an awful nightmare.” 

His lips form a thin line. “... Something like that.” 

“What was it about?” 

“You,” he forces an unperturbed tone. Although he’s still hazy from sleep, he’s used to bending the truth. Or in this case, covering the parts he doesn’t want you to see. “I have to deal with you in the realm of conscious and unconscious now. Terrifying, right?” 

The sarcasm successfully draws your attention elsewhere. 

“Absolutely. So terrifying, in fact, I better sleep elsewhere so as not to frighten my— oof!” 

“Oh no you don’t,” he pulls you against his chest, preemptively ending your getaway, “You’re not going anywhere.” 

You willingly collapse into his hold, laughing softly. Though you’re no longer trying to wriggle away, his grip is ironclad, his arms trembling. He interweaves himself into you with a tangle of limbs. Once he’s content, he presses his face against the thrumming pulse in your neck. This stream that maintains your life is temporary — a subpar placeholder until you’re imbued with immortality. Still, he cherishes it, this special rhythm that has sustained you long enough for your paths to interconnect. 

He gives your pulse a chaste, reverent kiss. 

Your paths are bound to never diverge, even if damnation is where they'll lead.

[incin-3-rator]

━━ ABOUT . . .

IGNIS, adult. Genshin Impact, IDV, and cats enthusiast.

I write MLM NSFWs—mlm fetishizers, never interact—top male readers only. Yandere and dark themes are my cup of tea; I can do normal, vanilla stuff, too, but never any acts of non-con, pedophilia, and the like. That being said, still be mindful when requesting.

# . . . archive.

# . . . requests are: open!

[ryuichirou]

More dark hcs

We have a bunch of asks about some dark-themed hcs, I’ll try to reply to everything today. As always, it took me ages, but I am still grateful for these asks. Thank you to all the Anons in this post!

Ships mentioned in this post: Ortho/Idia (Igni mob/Idia), Floyd/Idia, Jade/Idia, Trey/Idia, Trey/Vil

Anonymous asked:

Do you have yandere headcanons for tweels? Or they are not much different in your opinion?

In terms of darkness and fucked-up-ness, they really aren’t very different; I feel like every single hc list we have for the tweels is somewhat dark, but! A yandere is a bit different because yandere’s actions are motivated by obsessive love and devotion.

And I am not saying that Jade and Floyd with their “now I’m interested, now I’m not” personalities can’t get obsessive, but it’s a bit more tricky for me to think about them in this scenario. But “tricky” doesn’t mean “impossible”, so yes, I do in fact have some yandere headcanons for them! I hope I don’t repeat myself though, sorry if I do.

The target of their obsession in this list is Idia, I hope this is okay with you.

Alright, let’s go then:

Anonymous asked:

Just to complete all of Idia’s evil exes, how about headcanons for the Tweels and Trey as yanderes for him (Sorry, Idia, I swear I do love you 😭)

(Idia deserves all the love, especially if it’s obsessive, Anon….)

Jade+Floyd/Idia:

The more Idia tries to avoid them, the more obsessive they become. They didn’t mind him paying attention to other people and doing other stuff at first, but the more Idia openly avoids the Tweels, the more they want him. At first they just started to get clingier: Floyd literally started touching and hugging Idia all the time, Jade – texting Idia every other minute and cooking for him. It was almost funny and cute at first (not to Idia though): it’s as if Idia just got two love interests at the same time!

One day they would just break every single gadget and machine in his room. For no reason other than they really wanted his attention, and he didn’t give it to them. Of course, Idia would be absolutely distraught after that, but it’s okay, they are here to cuddle him while he is having a panic attack. Or haze him more… these two are such childish jealous brats sometimes. They might even dispose of Ortho if there is “no other choice” for them.

Sometimes they get jealous of each other too, but it’s mostly just Floyd getting fussy. Still, it was Jade’s suggestion to start marking Idia’s body just so they each know which part of him belongs to whom. Sometimes they start arguing about it, but it’s for a show: they know that Idia gets nervous and scared because of that, so if they poke him enough, he might start promising things! Like, maybe he’d give one part of his to Jade first, but then give it to Floyd… what other things Idia could promise them? They wonder.

DMMD Virus and Trip Ending. If you know, you know. If you don’t know: I think they would kidnap him at some point and keep him as their plaything. Sometimes they would take turns, sometimes they would have sex with him together, sometimes they would just sit there and talk about how everyone else is doing while Idia is stuck here with these two. Idia’s body got used to the pain (and pleasure), but the emotional torture keeps Idia’s wounds fresh.

If this is what happens, they would make everyone think that Idia is dead because now he only exists to be their precious toy. Even Azul wouldn’t know that Idia is still alive, and the Tweels would find it hilarious because they would have a somber conversation with Azul about how horrible Idia’s fate is, and then come back home to see him tied to a bed, hungry, miserable and barely resembling a human being. But oh so loved!

Trey/Idia:

Maybe one of the reasons why Trey got so obsessed with Idia is that Idia sees right through him (even though Trey’s also in denial about many things about himself). And while choosing whether to be wary of Trey or to call him out for his lies, Idia chose both… At first, Trey felt confusion, but then his interest in Idia just kept growing, and then he started to show up in his dorm again and again. People started gossiping  that these two are dating, and that Idia probably used some kind of charm or love potion to attract Trey. The second part is obviously false, but the dating part became true at some point… somehow.

Yes, teeth, OF COURSE we’re going to talk about teeth, come on, it’s Trey. Trey brushes Idia’s teeth for him. At first he just checked on his teeth every morning and evening, then one time he brushed Idia’s teeth for him just to show him a proper way to do it… but now he does it 3 times per day every single day. This isn’t just him taking care of Idia’s teeth (even though he always talks about how Idia isn’t going to do a good job if Trey isn’t helping him, and somehow phrase it in a nice way), this is him having a special tradition only for them…

Idia knows that Trey is bad news, and he doesn’t even fully understand why they started dating, but he just can’t resist him anymore. Trey seems so wishy-washy to others, but Idia knows that he could be stubborn and strict in a very sneaky way. They never argue, but Idia still can never “win” somehow – he always has to do what Trey thinks would be best for him. And Trey genuinely believes that he knows best, sometimes he thinks that Idia is a bit… inadequate at living. But he feels it very lovingly, very parentally, but still very-very sexually somehow… in his ideal world, Idia would rely on him so much that he would stop doing anything by himself, even the most basic things.

Idia never talks to anyone, but if he does, Trey gets jealous. He is very jealous of whoever Idia is talking to while he is playing games. Sometimes he wishes he could just break all of his computers and stuff like the Tweels would, but these aren’t his methods. His methods are to poison Idia’s sweets to make him so sick that he wouldn’t be able to do anything but throw up, cry and cling to Trey for a couple of days. It’s okay, when he gets better, Trey will nurse him right back and make sure he eats plenty.

He is very protective of Idia, and if someone is legitimately mean to him, he’ll never forgive that person. For some reason it’s easier for him to stand up against Idia’s bullies than to stand up against Riddle’s mom lol Anyways, with his mind being all messed up because of this obsession, he might actually do the yandere thing of killing a bunch of people for Idia’s sake. He’ll never let Idia know about it of course, but Idia isn’t stupid: he can see that something about Trey’s eyes changed. And he is legitimately scared of him.

Yeah, speaking of Trey! What a smooth segue lol

Anonymous asked:

Hi, I really like your character thoughts! I was wondering if you dive a bit into Trey's darker side and some more TreyVil headcanons? Thank you!

Thank you for enjoying our posts, Anon! <3 Trey/Vil as a ship doesn’t appear here very often, but I feel like whenever I think about them together, they just keep growing on me woah.

Of course Trey is obsessed with Vil’s teeth, that’s a given. And even though Trey doesn’t have Rook levels of dedication to his creepiness craft and doesn’t know everyone’s dental situation, he still thinks that Vil is one of the best ones. He was also lucky enough to witness Vil’s evening routine once, and while Vil found it intimate in a subtle way, to Trey it was so much more than that. He started dreaming about the way Vil brushes his teeth all the time. It’s so elegant, but still a bit messy (a little bit of toothpaste stuck to his lip for a couple of seconds before he rinses his mouth…), but also absolutely perfect, but also so… vulnerable before Trey’s eyes. He really wanted to masturbate while touching his teeth.

The fact that Vil is more experienced and sexually aware than some other potential partners of Trey is something that Trey has to constantly keep in mind. He does enjoy Vil being flirty and even hinting at things at times, but at the same time, if Trey gets too horny, Vil will definitely notice and address it. And it’s great when the timing is more or less appropriate, but if Vil notices that Trey is horned up when they’re discussing things like dental hygiene (embarrassing) or something horrible (like things that happen in the film industry)… then Vil might realise that he gets bad vibes from Trey for a reason and stop talking to him, and Trey doesn’t want that.

Trey has a rape kink, and he wishes it was purely hypothetical. Sometimes he has intrusive thoughts when he chats or hangs out with Vil about how technically he could assault him right here, or at least try to (since Vil isn’t that easy to assault). But would the thrill be worth the risk? Trey usually decides that it wouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes he dreams about different scenarios in which he would rape Vil. And he isn’t always fully asleep when he has these dreams…

One time Trey saw Vil being very puzzled, angry and a bit embarrassed. He knew exactly why, but asked him about what was going on anyway, and after avoiding answering for some time, Vil confessed that somebody stole his used underwear. Trey expressed that this was super messed up and comforted Vil, gently ensuring him that it will be okay… and it’s honestly a miracle that Vil didn’t notice that Trey was lying through his teeth. Of course it was him who stole it. Another intrusive thought.

Trey would love to make Vil obsessed with his cakes, and by “obsessed” I mean “literally addicted”. Vil is way too good at avoiding sweets, but this could be changed if Trey figures out how to make a potion, one drop of which would make anyone who takes a bite addicted to this food forever. Of course, Vil is great at potions, and there is no way just any potion would work on him, so for now Trey is experimenting and using his own dormmates as guinea pigs. This is his private science project that he has to keep in secret from both Vil AND Rook…

Or something among the lines~

Alright, I don’t have a segue for this one, but let’s come back to Idia for a moment because we have another ask about him!

This is related to this post.

Anonymous asked:

I know you went into this in another post but what other ways has Ortho had other students haze Idia?

Alright, a couple of more ideas! Not a lot though, because I can’t share some because I want to draw them, and also I am a bit tired lol but still, I am happy you like this theme, Anon! You’re inspiring me to think about it more…

Ortho didn’t intend it to be a roast, but he made the other students chant at Idia about his love for Ortho when he left his room one time. This poor guy opened the door and got called a brocon by like 40 people. He got so terrified and shocked that he couldn’t move for a minute.

Another one that Ortho didn’t expect to end up being so evil is that he let the other students into Idia’s room at night and let them steal all of his clothes + his blanket, including the ones he was wearing while asleep. Idia woke up completely naked with zero clothes and a bunch of people outside waiting for him to laugh at him and take pictures.

Another time when Ortho let the guys into Idia’s room at night was when he wanted them to wake him up in a fun way! And the guys ambushed his bed, grabbing him, jumping on him, spraying him with water and making loud noises into his ears. After that Idia started stuttering, and it continued for a week… it’s a miracle it went away, to be honest. And also he pissed himself.

[electricea]

@inaudible-summoner sent - 2. Who was your first muse? & 17. Least favourite trope? ( Munday Meme - Accepting! )

2. Who was your first muse?

Officially, like non group-wise, Ignis from Final Fantasy XV. Fun muse, a bit like how I was at the time (I read a lot more novels back then, lol). Honestly still a muse with a special place in my heart, I was just looking for a change.

17. Least favorite trope?

I dunno if I'd say least favorite but I have mentioned I'm sort of weary of yandere type muses or plots - due to past experiences, in a past group ages ago there was a mun who wrote their muse as a yandere - very threatening, very aggressive, very confrontational - and out of character as a mun, they were very much like that as well, to the point of threatening people - it wasn't fun or cute or charming to deal with, it was like actually frightening and tense. Or like a few years ago, I remember seeing this muse - I don't think their mun explicitly labeled them as a yandere but I did see a pattern in a lot of their writing - very very possessive and jealous. Like, I'm not kidding - there was one thread that opened with her threatening another girl with a knife all because this girl had gotten homework help from her crush - and the mun out of character actually seemed to think this was cute or acceptable behavior. Her go-to responses would always be 'oh she just gets so jealous sometimes!' or 'she's just so afraid of losing him you guys, isn't it cute how she gets so jealous?'

So yeah, to sum up - if you write a yandere muse or a yandere type of plot, I don't mind that specifically - but if out of character, you are actually trying to defend or justify such behavior or you actually believe that sort of behavior to be in any way cute or acceptable, that's kind of when I have to side eye, just a little bit.

[azxremoon]

RECIPES

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─────── recipes

*all names in italics are elluka's favorites !

BREATH OF THE WILD . . . COFFEE AND TEA

link, zelda, mipha, revali, sidon, urbosa, ganondorf, sonia, rauru.

CODE GEASS . . . CINNAMON ROLLS

lelouch vi britannia, c.c., suzaku kururugi.

FINAL FANTASY . . . CREPES

noctis lucis caelum, prompto argentum, gladiolus amicitia, ignis scientia, lunafreya nox fleuret, ardyn izunia, nyx ulric.

FIRE EMBLEM . . . MACARONS

chrom, frederick, robin, lon’qu, gaius, tharja, henry, grima, lucina, owain, morgan (platonic), byleth, blue lions, rodrigue, golden deer, rhea, seteth, jeralt, shez, sothis, arval, alear, lumera, alfred, veyle, pandreo, diamant, alcryst, sombron, nell.

GENSHIN IMPACT . . . ICE CREAMS

arataki itto, kaveh, alhaitham, neuvillette, wriothesley, furina, dainsleif, capitano, mualani, kinich.

JUJUTSU KAISEN . . . SANDWICHES

satoru gojo, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, maki zenin, aoi todo, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna, kenjaku, mahito.

NIER . . . FRUIT TARTS

younger + older brother!nier, kaine + tyrann, 2b, 9s, a2, adam, eve.

PERSONA . . . CAKES

makoto yuki, kotone shiomi, akihiko sanada, junpei iori, aigis, shinjiro aragaki, ryoji mochizuki, jin, takaya, chidori, theodore, ren amamiya, yusuke kitagawa, goro akechi, takuto maruki.

[tehrevving]

OUGH, I'm so excited for the next chapter of Chaos Theory! I love the way you write and I'm always chomping at the bit for more! So, I've read through Heaven Sent (love the 2!Dante story, DAMN!) and I'm caught up with CT; is there anything else on your AO3 that you wish more people would read? I'd love to know what you suggest out of your backlog so I can start there (I'm probably gonna read it all let's be real)!

Hi hello! I’m working on the next chapter as we speak. I don’t think I’ll be ready to post it until Tuesday ish, but I might surprise myself lol. Im being a little bit of a perfectionist with it cause I want the smut to blow you all away 😂😂. (It’s so good you guys)

I have been writing for quite a few years now and I have a heap of stuff on my Ao3. I always find it crazy when I have followers that have never read the first thing I ever did, which was An Incompatible Coping Mechanism (Ignis x Reader) I wrote it a long time ago, and I’m sure the writing seems amateurish compared to how I am now. It’s pretty special to me though, and I honestly still can’t believe I actually managed to sit there and write a huge fic and finish it lol.

I’m also known for my Yandere Ignis stuff. My best “technically written “ stuff would be my Heisenberg smut, solely cause it’s the newest I’ve written and I’ve spent a lot of time on trying to improve my writing in the past few years.

But yeah, just filter by tags and go for it. There’s so much smut on my ao3 lol. So enjoy.

[baji-sideblog]

Our beautiful Babygirl Tris deserves the world 😍♥️

He does you might just have to keep a broom on you though, to keep these two apart

[chachamaru-s]

tag list

my tags my talk tag my writing tag filled requests answered asks anonymous asks ask games writing prompts

content warning tags inebriation self harm menstruation

fandom boku no hero academia kimetsu no yaiba jujutsu kaisen final fantasy 15

characters bakugo katsuki dabi

akaza douma hashibira inosuke himejima gyomei iguro obanai kanroji mitsuri kibitsuji muzan kocho shinobu kokushibo rengoku kyojuro shinazugawa sanemi tokito muichiro tomioka giyuu uzui tengen

geto suguru gojo satoru

ignis scientia

reader tags fem!reader afab!reader gn!reader fat reader disabled reader

content tags smut hurt/comfort dark angst humor fluff alternate universe polyamory yandere

story type imagines & headcanons oneshots multi-part series

[ffxvficrec]

by TifaCaelum Noctis finds out that his sweet girlfriend is a yandere. Words: 21649, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV , Compilation of Final Fantasy VII Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum , Tifa Lockhart , Prompto Argentum , Ignis Scientia , Gladiolus Amicitia , Brian Lockhart , Lucia Lin Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Noctis Lucis Caelum Additional Tags: noctifa , noctisxtifa , yandere tifa , Submissive Notis , Fluff and Smut , Protective Tifa Lockhart , Protective Noctis Lucis Caelum , Alternate Universe - High School , Emotional Sex

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Yandere Noctis x Muta true pacifist au:

Ignis: *glances at them from the front window mirror* should we stop? Do she can properly rest noct?

Muta: *stirs slightly but still asleep*

Noctis; that’s probably for the best

[ashsound]

The Princess in the Attic

Original Story By: JAEUNHYANG

Story By: JUNGIN

Art By: Jeongchebulmyeong

“The Princess in the Attic” returns on December 17th to say good-bye with its final episodes.

Review: I’m biased because I’m a fan of some of JAEUNHYANG’s other work (in particular, “Karina's Last Days”, “I Failed to Oust the Villain” and “Just Leave Me Be” - but JAEUNHYANG has written so many more). The story does have dark themes, such as: child abuse, trauma, murder, and drawn out, painful deaths. Someone’s backstory includes the death of children (specifically siblings). If you’re looking for tooth rotting fluff, this is not the RoFan to read!

(you might want to try “The Little Lady Tames the Leads”, a cute children going to school RoFan with not much plot; “For Better or For Worse”, a bickering married couple that are cute and usually overcome challenges quickly; “Cooking Sorcerer”, which is mostly about a woman that wants to cook and use magic - it was totally canceled, so you won’t see everything resolve, but I’m okay with that because we know how those stories go and I felt content enough. Not at all tooth rotting fluff because it’ll make you good-cry and want to murder the villains yourself, but an absolute personal favorite “Another Typical Fantasy Romance” which has a loving, intimate, married couple that actually talk with each other and plot with their allies - and Lithera and Pellus are hot [see my pfp])

“The Princess in the Attic” has a lot of warm, tender moments and a lot of the story is about the main character, Osiria, learning to live and enjoy life (after being trapped in a tiny room and abused for 20 years). If you’re into darker RoFans that aren’t about a yandere ML and are about trauma, the weight of death and murder, then I recommend it.

Very short summary with spoilers (I am leaving out so much, this is like the abridged version of cropped CliffsNotes): Princess Osiria’s witch mother was blamed for the drought. To protect her newborn, she “curses” everyone to die if her daughter does. Instead, her father, the Emperor of Trionfo, locks her away for 20 years. Osiria is abused: neglected, starved, beaten, rarely bathed (and it’s just a bucket thrown on her). Her only friend is Aqua, a water spirit becauseOsiria is the divinely chosen one the empire's been waiting for, and she's been waiting for them to abandon her. Osiria is traded to the Kingdom of Jardin as a diplomatic hostage. Osiria originally plots revenge, but finds love in ML Fedelius, finds friendship in her maid Mary and Trionfo defector Igni, learns that not everyone hates her, and gains understanding of how heavy the death of a person actually is and what it means. The King of Jardin is actually a god, but a different one than the one that picked Osiria (the God of Fire), and wanted her to rule Trionfo as empress, even if her version of that involved killing everyone. Mary is killed protecting Osiria (and dead from chapters ~70 - 87 or so). During that time, Jardin invades Trionfo, Osiria attacks Trionfo’s palace and imprisons her father. Fedelius sees the “attic” Osiria was trapped in for 20 years. Fedelius kills the Emperor of Trionfo. Osiria runs away, afraid of what he must think of her. Fedelius and Aqua find Osiria, bring her home, and attend Mary’s funeral, where Osiria melts Mary’s ice coffin and Mary comes back to life because Osiria’s powers are a manifestation of her will. Osiria says there will be no more divine ones in Trionfo, she won’t rule it because Jardin is her home, but there won’t be droughts in Trionfo either.

[sypphic]

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@youryanderex | @yandere-culture-is

@deadlyribcage | @deathcapyandex | @dollilian

@skelatomy | @systiveboxes

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@ego-est-ignis | @edrecovery-space

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