#yandere nickel

[yanderes-galore]

Could you PLEASE do something with a Yandere!Nickel with a human fem reader I would love you forever

And/or a human reader with a yandere soundwave and his also equally yandere cassettes would be nice

I am not far enough into MTMTE to properly meet Nickel (I'm trying I'm just slow) so I used the Wiki to help me if that's fine! So I apologize if something ends up wrong, I was also a bit vague with this. I swapped darling's gender since I could not fit it in to the plot, sorry :(

Yandere! Nickel with Human! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Internal conflict, Kidnapping briefly mentioned, Manipulation, She hates you at first, Obsession, Dubious relationship, Dehumanization, Violence, Trauma, Mentions of death, Threats.

Nickel is a maintenance and medic bot that is a Mini-con.

She has a past with organics, witnessing them murder mechanical beings and her being the only survival brought in by the D.J.D

Safe to say she doesn't like organics and holds a hatred towards them.

This makes an obsession towards a human problematic for her.

She hates organics and expects them all to be vile pests.

That's why she sided with Tarn.

His group is anti-organic.

She's usually really kind and helpful, wanting to take care of those close to her due to her specialty.

She'd probably only like an organic if she saw them being helpful to mechanical beings.

Maybe you're the "human pet" of someone on the Lost Light or something.

That's what many Cybertronians, particularly Decepticons, call you.

You're a pet or a fleshling or whatever....

It's a bit demeaning but you grow used to it.

You most likely help people out on the Lost Light and in some way you end up encountering the D.J.D.

Which means you meet Nickel.

I'd imagine she dislikes you when you first meet.

She doesn't necessarily want to go out of her way to kill you but she just... has a thing against organics for a good reason.

If you gave her some kind of hope that an organic could be good then she relents.

Most of her obsession would take a long time.

She has to get used to this human before she can show any care towards you.

Plus it's all very problematic since D.J.D is one for organic genocide.

Even if Nickel did like you enough to abduct you somehow she'd have to hide you away.

She'd treat you like you're her own guilty pleasure.

Nickel would keep an eye on you if you caught her attention but it would be awhile before she made a move.

She's hesitant to befriending an organic.

It would be like betraying the D.J.D if she took you in so fast.

Part of her feels hypocritical.

Compared to most of the ruthless D.J.D, Nickel is the best to be around.

When you do manage to make her come around she can be caring like she is with the rest of D.J.D.

I feel even when she trusts you, an organic, she still treats you as a pet like other Cons.

She'll baby you and treat you like you can't take care of yourself.

It gives her a sense of power due to her traumatic past.

She's not really mean about it and acts like a caretaker most of the time.

If she did abduct you then she hides you from the rest.

You're a secret pet she cares for while she cares for the D.J.D.

Honestly if the others found out, there's a good chance you're dead.

That is unless Nickel can somehow have Tarn allow her to keep you as a pet, all other organics can go for all she cares.

Not this one... not you.

As OOC as this sounds Tarn may allow your existence because of how stubborn Nickel is with you.

They have a close connection so they can probably make a deal.

Nickel probably wouldn't always be nice towards you, sometimes there's a hint of superiority or an undertone of a threat with her.

You're the only organic that is an exception to her hate.

While she starts cold towards you, showing apathy and disinterest about an organic, it slowly becomes affection.

After watching you, stealing you from the Lost Light, and spending time around you...

She can accept you for what you are.

She knows you aren't capable of harming her or the D.J.D alone.

You won't cause danger if left alive and your life is in her hands anyways.

With lots of time Nickel can accept her adoration for you.

As a Mini-Con she's closer to human size which allows affection to be easier.

She's probably taller than you so she can baby you more.

She is a very mom-like Decepticon so despite her feelings she'd probably like to tease and care for you.

She drags you places, diagnoses you the best she can, she still knows you're fragile and tries not to be rough.

If she did manage to convince Tarn to let you live, escape is difficult.

She'd simply tell him you ran.

Which means you'll either be captured or killed on sight.

It's best you stay a behaved organic if you'd like to keep your life.

Overall, Nickel would take a long time to obsess over a human due to her past.

Yet when she does, she'll treat you as her little human to take care of.

You'll stay right where she wants you, unless you'd like to deal with the D.J.D without her help?

[rowiewritesstuff]

Do you know any members of the Djd at all? I have been craving some yandere Nickel content but if not that more Yandere Ratchet or even Knockout would be great!

Or even better, both at the same time

Ayo, I did Ratchet/Knockout at the same time, might write a part two for it!

TFP Yandere Knockout and Ratchet

You were first friends with the Autobots. You were very close to Ratchet in particular due to your recklessness. You often street raced and fought Decepticons. Ratchet was always scolding you while bandaging your wounds. 

He was so tired of seeing you getting hurt- he wanted to force you to stay at base at all means necessary. Optimus assured his friend that he would talk to you in an attempt to get you to make safer choices. You agreed to ease up on the dangerous situations- but you would never stop street racing.

A few towns over, a street race was being held. The cash prize was great as usual- but you didn’t care either way. You lived for the thrill of the race. You loved the adrenaline that would flow through your veins when you went over 100 miles per hour. 

You got in your muscle car and made your way to that track. Next to you a beautiful cherry red Aston Martin sat. Your car window was rolled down so the other car could see you gaping. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” a voice from the car chimed. 

“I think I’d remember a gorgeous car like that. You must have one great job to afford a beauty like that.” 

Knockout allowed his ego to be inflated. Flattery is the quickest way to his heart. He kept staring at you through his mirror, trying to put his digit on where he had seen you from when it clicked. You were the Autobot’s pet! You always picked fights with the Vehicons that you almost never won. The fact that you won any was impressive, though.

You ducked your head back into your car and smiled brightly at him, “Well, best of luck! You’re going to need it!”

Knockout revved his engine as he chuckled. Him? Need luck? Preposterous. 

A woman stepped out onto the track with a flag raised up. All of the cars revving their engines in anticipation of the race. Knockout, however, revved his engine in anticipation to beat you so he could drag you back to the Nemesis.

The race began, and you quickly made your way to the front lines. You had to swerve a little to the right as the red car tried to bump you. 

After a game of cat and mouse, neck in neck, you pulled out in first place. As you slowed to a stop the red car stopped right behind you. You looked in the mirror in confusion until you saw a gun emerge from the side. 

“Shit! A con’.” You muttered as the red car shot at you. Quickly, you put it into gear and used your Bluetooth to call the base.

“Who is this?” Ratchet’s grumpy voice came from the base.

“Ratch! It’s me, I’m being chased by some con’ with a hot car!” You yelled into the car.

“A ho- what? Where are you?” 

“Uhhh, at the Montgomery Dam?” You winced as you told him. He knew about this race because you asked him ahead of time to bridge you there when it was time. He refused, so you had to drive. 

“Y-I- I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO!” He yelled. You felt actual fear. Ratchet had never yelled at you like that before. 

While you were distracted Knockout had managed to bump you, causing you to spin out. You screamed in fear as the back of your car went into a ditch. Your head slammed into the steering wheel making you see stars for a moment. You couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in your ears.

Knockout transformed in front of your car, pulling it towards him. He ripped off the door and began to pull you out.

“Hello there, doll.” he grinned.

“W-what do you want?” You struggled in his tight hold.

“You see, I like winning. I don’t like to lose- so this time I think I’ll take a win anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You can never lose when you have a new pet!” He grinned at you. “I think I’ll keep yo-AGH!”

You were thrown into the air as Knockout was kicked in the back. A cool hand caught you and pulled you into a chest- it was Ratchet. 

“R-ratchet, I’m sorry- I j-” 

“Shh. It’s okay. We’ll talk later.” He transformed and secured you into his alt-mode, going back through the groundbridge he came from. 

Knockout stood up with a scowl on his face. He’d been looking for a pet for a long while, and he’ll be damned if he lets the perfect one slip through his fingers. He’ll get you, just you wait. 

When you got back to base, Ratchet transformed and placed you on a cot. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes he fell in love with. He gave you a quick checkup as you sat silently. You were scared of the scolding you’ll get.

“So? I’m waiting?” He said. He noticed the confusion on your face, “For the apology. I told you not to go, and you went anyway. “ 

While you did feel bad at first, you couldn’t help but be angry at him. “I’m my own person, Ratchet! You aren’t my keeper.”

A dark look flashed across his face as he leaned down closely to your face. “I am your keeper. In case you forgot, I’m your guardian. I will make the calls for you. You will listen to me, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?” 

You glared up at him. “Maybe I should get a different guardian th-” 

A fist slammed down beside you making you shake with fear. His eyes looked crazed as he scowled at you. “Don’t,” he vented, “Don’t even joke about that. You are my charge. The quicker you learn that I’m just doing what’s best for you, the better- because no one else wants a reckless brat like you as a charge.” 

You both sat in a tense silence as he finished patching you up, tears falling down your face. 

In Ratchet’s eyes, you needed to hear that- maybe now you’ll listen to him. Next time he may just have to make you have an accident, so you can’t endanger yourself again.

MTMTE Yandere Nickel

Not too familiar with Nickel, but I did give it a shot! :)

You had been snatched right off of the Lost Light as a hostage. Tarn had intended to kill you after you’d lost your usefulness, but he discovered that you had similar ideals. While you didn’t agree with killing, you agreed that something had to be done against the council and the functionalists. Tarn decided to keep you as a sort of ‘pet’. 

Of course, with having a pet on board, someone has to be responsible for your care. Tarn doesn’t trust Kaon to look after someone so fragile, so Nickel was tasked to your care when he was busy.

She hated you at first. She hated you being on the ship, she hated your fleshiness, and she hated everything about you. Or so she thought. 

She soon began to learn just why you were on the Lost Light to begin with when Vos had been brought in unconscious and leaking energon. You immediately began assessing his wounds (much to everyone’s surprise). You ordered Tarn to get you the required medical equipment so that you could help him. Tarn just looked to Nickel who nodded slowly in confirmation.

You and Nickel began to work together seamlessly to heal Vos. She never thought that she could work with an organic so well.

As soon as Vos’ injuries were taken care of, Nickel questioned you on how you knew what to do. You tell her the truth: You were taught by the best medic Cybertron’s ever seen: Ratchet. 

Nickel grew a little more respect for you as a fellow medical professional, and sometimes got you to assist her patching up the others, or to clean her tools. 

One day, the ship came under attack while the rest of the DJD were out on a mission. You and Nickel worked together to hold off the vicious attack from the scavengers that were looking for a quick buck. 

Without her knowing, a scavenger had a blaster trained on the back of Nickel’s head- which you took the shot of.

Nickel realized what you had done when she turned around, and could only gape in shock at you. You saved her life? After how cruel she was to you?

The rest of the DJD came in not a moment sooner, slaughtering the scavengers in a matter of minutes.

Nickel quickly took you to the medbay where she quickly assessed the damage. Your arm was burnt and obviously broken. She couldn’t help the guilt that flooded her when she had to patch you up. 

While you were resting, she sat by your bedside holding your hand. Tarn approached her and asked “Are you alright, Nickel?”

The frown on her face deepened. “I never thought that an organic could be so… caring. They must be the exception.” 

Tarn saw the sadness clear on the minibot’s face. The way she held your hand tight and sat by your side. “If you want to keep this human… I’ll allow it. They seem to make you very happy.”

Nickel looked up at Tarn with awe, “Thank you, Tarn. Thank you.”

A few weeks later you were still bedridden on Nickel’s orders. “You need to stay in bed. I’m just going to step out for some supplies you need.” She gently patted your head. 

When you were certain that she was gone, you jumped out of bed. Just because you were injured didn’t mean you’d stay in bed. You needed to escape. While you did care for the DJD a little, they also kidnapped you from your friends and your home. 

You were careful as you made your ways through the halls, making sure to not be loud in the event one of the cons’ stayed on the ship. 

Soon, you made your way off to see that you were in a docking bay. This was clearly a Decepticon friendly planet, because there were no Autobot symbols to be seen. 

You began to quickly maneuver through the crowds of large robots, trying to avoid being stepped on. You opened a door that was closer to your size and grinned as you felt the warmth of a sun on your skin. The sun that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

You ignored the pain in your arm as you jogged outside.  You just had to find a communication device to get a message to your friends. You saw a shop that was large compared to you, but not nearly as big as a Cybertronian shop. You quickly entered and looked around for a shop owner. 

An orange, human looking alien stood behind a counter. You ran up to them and asked to use their communication, and they agreed. You grabbed the comm, beginning to dial in Ultra Magnus’ number when a hand grabbed your arm. 

You froze in fear as your eyes followed the servo to its owner, to see Nickel standing there with a glare on her face. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

You tried to make up a lie on the spot, but could only get out stutters. Your eyes fluttered around the store when you got an idea. You looked behind her, and stuttered out “T-tarn?” 

 Nickel’s grip loosened on you and you darted away out of the store. 

Nickel was furious. She had trusted you alone, and this is what you do? She’ll make sure it never happens again. She commed the rest of the DJD immediately. “Tarn! They got away, somewhere near my position.” 

A verbal sigh came from the other end of the comm, “Alright, everyone. Find them but don’t hurt them- that’s up to Nickel later.” 

Now, the entire DJD was hunting for you on the small planet. You were trying to find another place with a comm, but no one else seemed to speak English. 

You were running to go to another store only a few feet in front of you when a pede slammed down on the ground in front of you. You looked up in fear to see Tarn’s crimson optics staring down at you. He glared at you as he snatched you up. “Nickel, I have them.”

As soon as you were back to the Peaceful Tyranny, Nickel dragged you back to the medbay. She forced you into a human-sized chair and used several layers of gauze to secure you there.

“Did you really think you would get away?” She scolded. “Now look at what you made me do. Your arm is probably worse off from that now- and it’s all your fault. I won’t punish you this time- but let me tell you something.” Nickel grabbed your chin with force and made you look at her. 

“If you ever run again, I will break your legs. You. Are. Mine.”

[ask-yandere-nickel]

balloon: I know

you can not ask them but I would like more asks

[thetomorrowshow]

you will return to the hospital bed

febuwhump day 8: bleeding out

fandom: life series smp

part of my series six billion moths flying toward it, which begins in a war-ravaged world that grian manages to escape from, bringing the evo members with him to their own world, where they have infinite respawns and peace.

cw: mild gore, violence, war

~

Jimmy isn’t the best soldier.

“Left! Left!”

He isn’t the best marksman, yeah, but he also isn’t very agile, but he’s also Deaf and can never really tell who’s giving out instructions and what for (at this point, he’s really just cannon fodder, which is . . . not a nice thought).

Is the general yelling at him or someone else?

There’s really no way to know, but Jimmy just hopes he’s following orders and crawls left, his hands scraping against exposed tree roots and little chunks of dirt and rock. He’s just in time—a shell lands close to where he just was, blowing apart the ground with an earth-rattling explosion.

Whoever is behind Jimmy shoves him to the ground to get over him, Jimmy’s chin knocking against the dirt, a knee digging into his kidney. He bites back whatever he wants to yell at the soldier; the first rule of war is no in-fighting while you’re in an active battle.

He hates the trenches. Maybe one of these days, he’ll finally contract trench fever and he’ll be able to get out of all this.

Grian promised to get him out, but it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen. He’s been here for—what, two years? Too long. There isn’t a clean escape route; he’s either going to have to get injured or sick or he’s going to have to die.

He should probably poke his head up and take a shot anywhere he can, just to do something. They’re all hiding in their own trenches, though, waiting for him to do just that. He sure isn’t going to be the first person to check if they can take a quick shot. That’s how you die in this business.

He hates this. He hates how commonplace it’s become to just be shot at, yet how scared he is to this day every time he marches out.

He’s been here all day, choking on gunsmoke and trying to see through teary eyes, a miserable existence when any day could be his last.

“We’re gonna die,” someone cries out—Jimmy can’t tell who or from where, especially with all the explosions and gunshots going on, but he just ignores it and keeps crawling through the dirt, the hot sun pounding down on his shoulders.

He tries, at least, but before he can go far, someone grabs his leg by the ankle and pulls.

Jimmy spins around—it’s another soldier, of course, a man probably close to his age or younger, and he looks terrified. His face is almost green under the dirt and soot, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears and sweat streaking down his cheeks.

“We’re gonna die,” he says. “I—I can’t—I’m just a kid, dude, I gotta get out of here!”

Jimmy knows that feeling. The shock, the overwhelming fear, the sense of displacement. It’s never quite left him, and to this day he feels all jittery and awful and scared in every battle that he gets sent out to fight in, but he doesn’t know how to tell the kid that he’ll be okay when there isn’t any guarantee that he will be.

Jimmy’s seen people die. Friends, bunkmates, shot as they crouched right beside him and were just slightly less lucky than he. There’s a good chance that this kid—

There’s so much yelling, he can’t even think, but he can’t distinguish any of the voices or anything and—

BLAM!

Jimmy has a moment of blinding white—

Of red—

Of looking down at himself and thinking, oh, that’s way too much blood to be healthy.

Of looking down at himself and realizing that most of his body was missing.

That he simply does not have legs, and he can see into his stomach, and one of his arms is mostly blown off, part of the bone of his upper arm sticking out of dirty, bloody flesh.

Beside him, where his arm should be, is the head of that kid, his eyelids still fluttering.

Jimmy has another moment, where he breathes and it feels wrong, where he’s hit by blinding pain and disgust and horror all at once, where he feels his heart try to leap out of his chest, where he tries to scream but blood just gurgles out of a hole in his throat.

He’s—there’s so much blood—he didn’t—

Everyone always says that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. All Jimmy sees, though, is the house he grew up in.

His home there, the evening growing late, children playing in the front yard to catch moths in jars as they flock toward the porchlight, his mother poking her head through the curtains to make sure they’re safe.

He’s floating away, like a balloon released, watching the scene grow smaller and smaller below him.

Then it all fades away into a near-silent high-pitched squeal, and nausea washed over all the pain and Jimmy’s vision goes grainy then blinks out completely.

He falls into darkness, and he doesn’t return.

-

The darkness is calm. Quiet, with little specks of light scattered throughout.

Jimmy wasn’t brought up believing in an afterlife, and he kind of thought that when he died, he wouldn’t have any sort of consciousness. His code would split up and tie itself back into the universe, and that would be that.

This . . . this doesn’t feel like that.

Why is he here? Not, like, physically (he isn’t sure he’s anywhere physically), but he’s definitely somewhere to some extent, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

He doesn’t like it, he decides a moment later, as the darkness begins to weigh heavily on him. How does it feel like that, like it’s absolutely suffocating him, like he can’t breathe, when he doesn’t have a body to react to any sort of pressure?

Then it weighs down more, and more, and it hurts—

It hurts his legs, so badly that he wants to scream, building up and up and up—and his arm, and his stomach, and his chest, and head, and hands, and throat—

There’s a sound, then, something that’s like the high-pitched whine of his death, echoing through his ears and it hurts just as badly as everything else, like his hearing aids are malfunctioning worse than they ever have.

There are voices beyond it. People are talking past the pain, past the noise, and Jimmy strains to breathe and manages it.

He’s breathing?

His eyelids feel way too heavy. He can’t open them, he can’t see a thing, he can’t do anything.

It hurts. Every part of him is in agony, and he gasps for breath again and again and eventually realizes that the awful whine in his ears is coming from his own throat.

What’s happening? He—he died, didn’t he, didn’t he die?

He blew up, his body was a collection of bits, chunks of flesh scattered across the trench, and he can only remember that and smell the blood and dirt and gunpowder and he shouldn’t be alive—

He pushes.

He pushes to open his eyes, even though it’s the most difficult thing that he’s ever done, and his vision is flooded with too-bright light and he immediately closes them again.

A voice says something.

His skin hurts, the actual skin of his chest—and then there’s something cold on his pec and Jimmy jolts, which just sends another wave of pain across his whole body.

He opens his eyes again—easier, this time—and squints against the brightness, trying to focus on the dark shape hovering over him.

It’s a person, who is touching him, and Jimmy blinks and blinks until he gets some kind of focus through the blurriness.

He can see their lips, at least, which helps him to understand what they’re saying.

“There we go, you’re all right. You’re back.”

Jimmy can’t speak. He tries, swallows, but words won’t come out in any intelligible form.

Some strange rasp comes out of his mouth, and the person—a doctor?—nods.

“Lungs sound good,” they say, moving off his chest. “Do you remember what happened?”

Jimmy shakes his head, a slight side-to-side movement.

Well, he kind of does. He remembers dying. He remembers being dead.

“You’ve been respawned,” the doctor says slowly. “Someone high-up must think you’re worth it. “

They clap him on the shoulder, a flood of agony surging out from the contact, and stand, turning away to fiddle with a blanket draped over Jimmy’s legs (his legs?). “You should . . . get back in the fight soon. Take a day to rest here . . . sure that everything went well.”

Respawn. A forgone conclusion; nobody ever got respawned. Not unless they were the best of the best, and Jimmy certainly wasn’t that. He can aim a gun and pull the trigger, but—

He’s . . . he’s Deaf. Why would they want him?

He died.

He knows why he got respawned.

He also knows he shouldn’t have been.

There are so many better people, so many skilled soldiers and tacticians and able-bodied people who have died—like the kid in the trench with him, who got hit by the same shell.

It shouldn’t have been him. It shouldn’t have been him, not when it’s millions of dollars just for one respawn. He’s already damaged, he isn’t good at anything, he was so completely dead and he just wants to lie down and let the darkness take him again.

He was dead.

It isn’t right to be back. It doesn’t feel right; it feels like he’s been dragged unwilling from his grave, all his pieces forced back together and shoved into a uniform. He doesn’t—he doesn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have been brought back.

It probably should have been anyone else.

But Jimmy’s back, now, and he has to stop hurting and get back to the fight.

He doesn’t have another choice.

[danmeichael]

yandere4yandere is always such a banger.... oh there's a yandere? already very fun depending on how it's handled. the object of their obsession is equally obsessed with them and potentially even more volatile and was perhaps even in control the whole time? flawless. incredible, stunning, riveting, breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous.

[stxph-artist]

only love in his eyes (and more but we won’t get into that yet)

[lady-ashfade]

Imagines and Dabbles!!

Hello everyone, it’s been a while. Been very very busy, surgery and work has kicked my ass. I know I have much to catch up on, and the request I have planned to do in the past have no longer interested me.

But if you would like to give me more, I am opening my requests up again. Some of my shows have come to a close and many are on their way.

👾Honorable Fandoms👾

Cobra Kai

My Hero Academia

But if you want more fandoms here is the list! These are just the two that the fandoms will probably be silenced since it’s the end. So please request them!!!!!!

[petitelepus]

Is it ok if I have a yandere nickel x human reader x yarn drabble?

Nickle cared, the Decepticon Justice Division knew it and you knew it. It just appeared like she cared a little too much when it came to you...

"Absolutely not!" Nickel shouted as she held you protectively in her arms. Tarn sighed, "I'm not saying we-!"

"I don't care! I am not going to let them out of my sight!"

"Nickel, I know you care about them, but I think-!"

"You're fragging right I care about them!" Nickel snapped, and wow, Tarn was getting no say in this. You almost felt bad about the situation you had caused with your little escape attempt.

Not that Nickel or Tarn knew. In their eyes or optics, you had just fallen from a high place and twisted your ankle and hurt your wrist while trying to soften the fall.

It hurt and your cry of pain had alerted the medic of the DJD. So here you were, being held by the small femme as she tried to protect you from Tarn who wanted to lock you in some cage like an animal.

Well, you kinda of were their little mascot, but the cage was maybe a little too much? That's what Nickel thought at least.

"Nickel, please-!"

"No, Tarn, I'm going to take them to the medbay where I will bandage them and then take them to my habsuite where they should stay at!"

If Tarn wanted to object he didn't. No, instead his shoulders slumped as he let Nickel carry you to medbay where she set you on a table to sit on while she performed a quick x-ray on you.

She hummed, pleased to see that you hadn't broken anything, but your wrist and ankle sure were sore.

"I can't understand how you managed to hurt both your wrist and ankle...!" She grumbled as she reached for a bandage.

Ah, she stole the words from your mouth.

You hummed quietly as she moved her servo and you got the hint. Slowly, you extended your arm and leg to her and she started to bandage them so they could heal properly.

"Thank you..." You thanked quietly.

"Yeah, you better thank me," Nickel grumbled stubbornly. You smiled, "Sorry that I scared you like that."

"I wasn't scared!" The stubborn little femme snapped, "I was just worried that you might break something!"

Ah, that is called being scared, but you didn't say anything to her, not wanting to get to her bad side.

Not like that was possible, she seemed to worship you and was willing to look past mistakes and such.

Maybe she knew that you had tried to escape but chose not to believe it. Maybe it was for the best for both her and your sake.

Either way, you wouldn't be trying again any time soon with a twisted ankle and wrist... Or if you were going to be locked in Nickle's room for the rest of your life.

It would be for your own good, she would no doubt say, but for now, she was quiet and you appreciated it.

[kuunibal]

Hello!♥️

I was thinking about your interest in filmmaking and how it’s such a beautiful, creative pursuit. It made me curious about what inspired you to explore it. I’m also wondering how you see it fitting alongside your focus on psychology. The combination seems like it would offer such a unique perspective. I feel like it really suits your persona—but maybe I’m getting ahead of myself there, as I so often do, haha.

Have you ever heard of Cinema Therapy on YouTube? It’s a channel where a therapist and a filmmaker analyse movies together. Their discussions are insightful, and their dynamic is hilarious (if you can tolerate the dad jokes, haha).

Also, I’ve been thinking about the Masochism Tango music video by RafScrap (the one I mentioned earlier). If you have any recommendations for something similar, I’d really love to hear them—I always enjoy your insights.

Lastly, and only if you’re comfortable sharing, I wanted to ask something a bit more personal. I was wondering if your scars have a story behind them—or rather, what kind of story there might be. Of course, no pressure to answer—I just wanted to leave the question open so you can share as much or as little as you’d like.

I was always interested in storytelling, and film is merely another avenue for that. I prefer writing prose to screenwriting and prefer screenwriting and video/audio engineering to directing though. I have no intention of entering the industry and it is more of an independent hobby of mine than anything. The works I create tend to lean toward psychological thriller or heartache with an emphasis on character relationships and inner worlds, which I suppose ties into the psychology background.

I have watched some of Cinema Therapy, although not a lot. There was one about Aragorn from Lord of the Rings that I found inspiring and a few on Anakin that I am sure you have already seen.

I actually don't listen to a lot of music, but if you enjoy RafScrap's work and want songs that are vaguely similar in subject, I recommend "Smoke and Mirrors", "In All My Dreams I Drown", "An Unhealthy Obsession", "Stalker's Tango", and "Die Schatten werden länger". The originals are also good, and for the last one, the German version.

The scars are mainly because I have a terrible habit of peeling the skin off my face/hands/etc. Apparently it is classified as an obsessive-compulsive and related disorder in the DSM-5.

[winterwrxter]

TW!: Blood, Knife, Yandere

Lyrics are from the song Yandere by Jazmin Bean:

Uh. I had a thought. This is based on an idea that's been bouncing around in my mind for a while and uh, yeah. I also happened to dream of it last night so uh, had to do it-

Vers. without blood and knife:

Please, do not ask what my playlist was while drawing this-

[idleiji]

♪ ࣪ ׂ IDLEIJI ៵ ࣪

I'm sort of new to Tumblr—? I'm still figuring out how it works lol

(Im unsure what to do on this so I'm mostly following what other people are doing...😭 Do people still make these? Oh well idrc since i like cute stuff)

Definitely overdid this but I just couldn't help it

♪About me

I'm Eijin! You can call me eiji or ei instead, any nickname is accepted!

I'm 21 (still can't believe it) and I use he/him pronouns, I'm a trans bisexual man (with male preference) if you're curious. I'm neurodivergent(audhd) and English isn't my first language, so I may say something wrong without realizing so please tell me :)

Also if I ever make you feel uncomfy or weird then I'm very sorry, I can't control it but I'll try to better myself 🙏🙏 ik I'm a bit weird at times but

I'm been learning English for a year now though but I'm not that fluent!

I mostly draw and play in my free time and right now this blog mainly focuses on degrees of lewdity (though may still include content of other things)

I'll give weird compliments like saying your art/writing is so miao miao and saying what ur art/writing taste like... But no exceptions, unless you say so, and I might overuse the :) emote

More info below

♪Contents you'll see

I'll mostly draw shitposts and nsfw content since the game I'm focusing on is a porn game after all but I'll also draw some sfw fluff! I'm also considering gore

I draw certain fetishes that some people may not want to see including : BDSM, size gap, forced feminization, bondage, futanari, pegging, knife play, toxic relationships, dubcon + more but those are the most common one to expect so beware of it!

Dni if you fit the basic dni criteria, if you have any incest stuff, a pedophile and (yes it includes shotacons and lolicons. Don't try to justify it. fictional or not, no. Please get professional help in the nicest way possible) minor, zoophiles or anti, other than that just be a normal person here.

(we fuck with hybrids and monsters and that's all. No real animals will be harmed)

Ofc I don't support actual rape, yanderes and other abnormal things here. The things I depict is fictional and are for entertainment purposes only and should not be supported! If you do I'll personally attack you as a victim myself lmao

Since I'll be posting dol related contents and mostly nsfw-y contents, I'll be blocking Minors and Ageless blogs! I'm very sorry but you guys are not legal yet, or you are but better safe than sorry

I don't really check who interacts with my posts much other than followings so I don't block alot but Ik very well you kids are gonna interact and I can't control your actions anyways so idrc if you like seeing these stuff, it's your choice but please for the love of God, just don't follow me or interact. I don't want kids in my blog.

Make sure you're atleast 18 and you can handle dark content. If you aren't, block me or I'll block you, no complaning. If I found out about it I will block you and I won't unblock. Come back when you're legal. The legal age of consent in my country is 16 but to avoid any problems with it I set it the same as Americans, so 18 above.

if your country's "legal" age is lower or the same as mine and you are technically "legal" I'll still block you, no questions ask!

BTW if you have incest stuff in your blog and I interacted with you first don't mind me I interacted first so it's my problem. It'd be great if you have any tws though, not like you need to but I'd appreciate it. If you are the other dnis criteria however, if I find out I'll immediately block, or you tell me, either way it's a block. It's definitely because I REALLY liked your writing or art which is not as often so other than that reasons, it'd be a mistake then

I'm more fine with stepcest though I'm not keen on that stuff but if I interacted then don't mind me, I probably had the same reason as the others, dd/lg I don't mind as long as it's not THAT explicit

Ik I'm weird and odly specific about those stuff but I have the 'tism and lots of conflicting feelings 🙏

♪About my ocs

♪ My main oc is called melodi/mel! I use him alot to represent myself on my behalf but why is it that we haven't seen him you ask? It's because he's a music note... Always have been... It's kinda embarrassing but I was too lazy to make a character for him so I used a music note since I liked music alot... (Hence why I have alot of music notes in my blog) but I'll make him a character design soon!

One thing to know about him is that he's a tsundere(yandere), don't ask me why but I think it's cute that way... He's just a little introvert who makes music and rots in his bedroom all day and never comes out of his dungeon

He likes pizza.

♪ My DoL PC, Shiki, also known as Kiki. He's one of my main saves (along with one other) and he's a defiant magician who wants nothing more than to leave this fucked up town

Though he's technically a full time magician, his main income is modeling + searching antiques coz the pay of a magician sucks ass lol... (the most he'd get is 20 weekly might get an extra 100 because of his looks... Keyword: might) though he doesn't care since he took that job just for the orphans. He wants to magic himself gone but he only knows children magic, he swears he will do it one day

He mostly does magic shows for children. He has weekly shows to raise hope and most of the magic shows are about Bailey and doing very very mean things to him so it also raises rebelliousness lol

He pretty much hates everyone (he hates all the School LIs, he's softer for Robin but tbh Kiki thinks Robin is kind of a burden sometimes, he uses Avery for money and doesn't give a shit about everyone else) I think he only likes Yami because they're the same and Yami... Helps him out

Kinda an opposite of Bailey! (not really... He's still really mean like Bailey though not towards the orphans and despite acting tough he's a coward)

♪ Another DoL PC is Yami. She could be seen as an older sister figure to Kiki and fucks with remy, alot, and she's just a normal model! (lie)

She models but she does that to cover up the fact that's she's Corrupted :) probably the one who reccomend Kiki to model

She's definitely a green tea bitch/white lotus!! She acts all sweet and innocent but then gets all bitchy

Used to be an orphan at bailey's orphanage and is staying in town to help the other orphans + Kiki. Doesn't give a single shit if she's committing a crime because she hates the town, she likes Kiki since they have the same mindset and helps him with his magic shows as an assistant

♪Status

I may be a bit busy and may not update as much due to personal reasons but I'll try my best to provide as much content as I can! I'll post when I can and I've been meaning to make a dol blog for a long time but couldn't...

Please don't be discouraged to ask! My askbox(?) is always free and I'll try my best to answer your questions (and I like interactions)

Sorry for the accidental rant abt my oc's can't help it they're my current hyperfixation along with dol (also sorry if my behavior makes you feel uncomfortable!! Blame it on the 'tism /j)

♪ LINKS:

Oc Kiki 1 2 3 4

Oc Yami 1

Oc Mel 1

♪ DOL DESIGNS:

Robin the orphan

Whitney the bully

Sydney the faithful or fallen

Kylar the loner

Avery the businessperson

Alex the farmhand

I swear I'll do an actual character sheet

[rowiewritesstuff]

Yandere Tarn from MTMTE pls?

MTMTE Yandere Tarn X Reader

Tarn detested humans- so for you to get his attention you’d have to have something helpful or interesting about you.

The DJD was visiting a bar after a day of refilling their supplies. They weren’t going to go, but Nickel said that they should cut loose once in a while. There, a human tackled Nickels’ bottom half with a hug. 

Tarn was instantly protective, but a surprising hello from Nickel to you had him backing off. You looked up with wide eyes to see Tarn.

“HOLY- Wow! Tarn, it’s an honor to meet you!” You grinned up at him. “I’m a huuuuge fan of your work!” All of the DJD was stumped by your excited behavior. 

Nickel face palmed and pushed you off. “DJD, (Y/N). (Y/N), DJD.” She looked up to Tarn. “We met on the colony forever ago. They were one of the only humans there- who for some reason was attached to me.” 

They looked confused and Vos spoke up in his language. You answered, surprising everyone yet again. “Yeah, there was a weird explosion thingy and now I’m kinda old. I think I’m like… a few hundred years now? I don’t know. I heal quickly now so it’s hard for things to kill me.” 

Vos asked you how you knew the language. “Uh, I dunno. I just learned it over time. I can’t speak it though, our voice boxes are different from each other's”

The DJD spent a longer amount of time there than they had expected so that you and Nickel could catch up. While Nickel pretended to be annoyed by you, she was actually really happy to see you. You were the only organic she ever tolerated. 

The rest of the DJD got along with you pretty well too, despite them being off put by your fleshiness. Tarn had a hard time however, as he hated organics a lot more than most of the others. 

When Nickel asked if you could travel with them, Tarn said no. After a glare from Nickel and a few convincing words from the others, you packed up what little belongings you had and made yourself at home on the Peaceful Tyranny. 

Tarn had avoided you for a hot minute, but everyone else learned that you were an amazing person. You helped Nickel patch them up after fights, and even upgraded some of their weapons. Vos loved your input on his experiments, even if he’d never admit it. You often put together what he failed to. 

Eventually, you and Tarn were in a room alone. He noticed you were reading ‘Towards Peace’. 

“Is this your first time reading that?” He asked you. 

You didn’t even look up from your book as you mumbled at him. “No, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve read it.”

Tarn grew a little respect for you then. “What do you think of it?” He sat up in his chair.

You finally looked up at him with a small frown on your face. He didn’t expect anything good from your expression. “I love it. Its words are weaved so intricately, and these are words everyone should live by. Megatron, though? He should die for betraying the Decepticon cause. He’s a traitor and should be treated as such.” 

Tarn’s eyes widened from behind his mask. While the DJD read the book, you seemed much more dedicated to it. From that moment on, you and Tarn would often have political discussions. You both would argue about small, odd wordings in the text. You were actually the only one who was ever allowed to disagree with him on wordings, because no matter what you still had the same general ideals. 

Tarn had realized that despite being organic, you were honorable. He looked up files on you in the Decepticons’ database only to find that you were a simple clerk for the Decepticon cause. You were an honorary Decepticon- though not technically one at all. Tarn began getting closer to you, often being seen carrying you on his shoulder.

One day, the Peaceful Tyranny docked on a Decepticon-Friendly planet. You were in awe the entire time at the pure beauty of it. The sun was similar to Earth’s, though the sky was a pale purple. The moss that coated the ground was a pale blue, and the animals were adorable. 

You bumped Nickel a little bit. “I think this is where I get off, Nicks.” 

She smiled sadly at you. “I figured. You always were one for simple beauty. I’ll help you pack up to go.”

You packed your bags quickly, only having three to begin with. When you entered the main room you saw the rest of the DJD. You grinned up at them. “Well, thank you guys so much for your hospitality. I’ll hopefully see you guys again.” 

Everyone seemed a little sad to see you go. Right as you began your departure from the ship you were scooped up into a servo. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Tarn’s crimson optics looked down at you. “You have become part of this ship, and it would be so unfortunate if you were to leave so soon. 

“I’m sorry, Tarn. I never like to stay in one place for too long.” You frowned.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to make it seem like you had a choice.” This caused the room to feel cold. You looked up at tarn with a nervous grin. 

“Th-that’s not funny, Tarn. Put me down please.” 

Nickel glared at the tall bot. “Tarn, put them down.”

Tarn glared back at Nickel and to you. “No. You will remain aboard this ship- it’s dangerous for Decepticons off board these days.”

Kaon tried to speak up for you, but a simple glare was enough to silence him. 

You tried to jump down but he tightened his grip on you. Everyone felt tense and some even left the room. You looked down at Nickel who only looked away. She could only do so much to help you. 

Tarn tilted your chin up to look at him. “It’s alright. I’ll treat you the same as any loyal Decepticon.”

“Then why don’t you let me go?” You felt tears building up in your eyes as the large bot petted your head gently.

Tarn hummed at you while beginning the trek to his berthroom. “While you are a loyal Decepticon, you are still an organic who doesn’t know what’s best for them. Don’t worry- you’ll be taken care of. Unless, of course, you’re a traitor?” His eyes left you paralyzed. All you could do was stutter a quiet ‘no’ out. “Good. You do know what we do to traitors, after all.”

[ask-yandere-nickel]

I can’t do this shi no more💀 just put nickel down he’s a lost cause💀 /hj

Nickel: eat up

asks are still open

[after-witch]

I may have nightmares tonight after reading that Lucas fic (kidding—hopefully) but wow, you did a phenomenal job writing it! I don’t think I’ve felt such vivid fear from a fic in a long time, but I was genuinely afraid at some points while reading that! I love Lucas, and you always do such an incredible job writing him

thank you for letting me know your thoughts, ahhh!! I'm glad it made you afraid. Well NOT GLAD that you were afraid, but, glad that it was vivid enough to make you feel scared. If that makes sense.

me, when people say my fics made them feel scared or worried or sad or anything:

I love Lucas too! all of @needleanddead's OCs are really fun, but Lucas just speaks to me the most. Is it the cabin? The older age? The delusional, sweet attitude that glosses over the potential for intense violence? His love for his chickens??? I don't know but I dig him.

[cozymoko]

I really loved your yandere cowboy OC idea (Jamie) and is it possible to ask for a part 2 or something? You have me hooked👀

My Fancy Lady

Yes, anon!

Nav. Masterlist

𐚁 Pairing. Yandere! Cowboy x City Girl! Reader

𐚁 Warning(s). slight yandere themes, subtle jealousy from reader, overall just lovey-dovey though.

𐚁 Format, word count. Scenario, 2.2k words

𐚁 Synopsis. You're returning to your home back in the city, but you wouldn't dare go without your precious cowboy.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

Jamie wasn't one for small talk—'less it was his woman doin' the talkin'. So, nights like this? Big ol’ fancy affairs? They weren’t his scene. He’d rather be anywhere else, maybe takin' on some honest work in town or catchin' a rodeo a few miles out. Hell, anything that didn’t have him stuffed into this stiff suit, collar chokin' him half to death.

But, reckon he had it comin’. You get yourself tangled up with a city girl, and suddenly you're wearin’ city clothes, trailed by folks who don’t know a lick about good, hard work. He couldn't help but stay close, though. With a pretty thing like you on his arm, he had to be. Men were wolves in these parts, sneakin' glances like they’d never seen a woman before—especially one who wasn’t theirs to look at. Made him chuckle under his breath. "What a damn shame."

Jamie stood across the ballroom, leaned up against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. He could’ve gone and greeted your folks, but Lord, your mama was a spitfire—firing off questions quicker than he could answer. He respected her, sure, and your pa too, but he’d rather keep what was left of his sanity. Just takin' in the sight of this place made his pockets ache.

Chandeliers dangled high above like crystal-studded stars, throwing soft light around the room. Gilded columns lined the walls, polished up so fine they seemed to look down on everybody else here. Tapestries hung alongside big, expensive-lookin' paintings—probably worth more than his whole ranch. The floor? It was slick as a lake after rain, shiny enough he’d bet a nickel it could trip even the steadiest cowboy.

Then there were the folks. Struttin’ around like proud peacocks, laughin' in polished tones that came off a little too uppity for his taste. Colors swirled around him—reds as bold as a fight, blues like icy temptation—colors he'd never even seen before danced across the floor. Reminded him a little of berries and fresh tomatoes, and just the thought got a chuckle outta him.

He’d never fit into this world, but it didn’t stop him from admirin’ its quirks now and then. Even so, this whole scene was like a country mile from his real life. He was just as sure he’d turn you into a cowgirl one day, but until then, he could appreciate the wonders of what money could do, even if he wouldn’t spend his hard-earned cash like this.

But there was one bright spot in all this: you.

There you were, right in the center of it all, falling into familiar voices and easy laughter. This was your world, and you looked like you belonged in it, talkin' to faces from your past who sized up the man beside you with curious glances. And yet, you smiled at them all—good and bad. Weren't you just the sweetest thing.

The cowboy stands across the ballroom, leaning against the wall, one foot tucked over the other. It's not that he didn't want to greet your folks, but your mama was a spitfire — hammering the two of you with more questions than he can count. He loved her, and your pa too, but he'd rather keep the last piece of his sanity tucked in his belt.

High society folks rubbed him wrong. Spoiled sons and daughters who’d had everything handed to 'em, struttin' through life without a lick of sense about hard work. Obnoxious, entitled, without a care for anyone who hadn’t grown up just like them. Jamie couldn’t stand it.

Yet somehow, out of all the men you coulda chosen, you picked him. What a thief, he thought with a quiet chuckle, his dark gaze never leavin' your face.

Course, he wasn’t all that innocent either—he’d done his damnedest to pull you away from this pampered life, wanted to whisk you off to the country, to his life, his world. And he’d caught you, good and proper. But that didn’t stop him from feelin' that familiar heat, the sharp taste of blood on his tongue from biting back the urge to snap at every wolf eyein' you tonight.

“Don't make a scene,” he murmured to himself like a man clingin' to a thin thread of patience.

He’d be lyin’ if he said he didn’t want you all to himself. Seein' you wrapped up in those fine silks, hair swept back in that way you liked best, lips painted in a soft color that made you glow... God, he wanted you. If he had it his way, you’d be in worn-out jeans, maybe one of his old flannels, smellin' of him and the wide open fields.

But he couldn’t tell you no. You hadn’t seen your family in months, and it just about broke his heart to see you so homesick. Jamie ain't one to go on about his old man, but if he learned one thing, it was this: happy wife, happy life. And you may not be his wife just yet, but he planned on changin' that real soon.

So to hell with all these other women, these high-class dames flittin' around the room. He didn’t care one bit about their money or their flirtin' glances. Jamie toyed with the silver pendant around his neck, tappin' his boot in time to the music.

Just then, a young woman drifted up, not much older than you, lips red as blood and curving into a sly smile. “Excuse me, sir,” she purred, “would you like to—”

“I’d be careful, sugar,” he cut in smooth, twirlin' his whiskey glass. “My wife fights. And I'd rather not see you back at your surgeon’s tonight.”

A crooked grin played on his lips as he raised his glass to his lips, his eyes catchin' yours across the room. There was only one woman he wanted on his arm, and she was wearin' a ring that matched his own.

You never thought you'd see him in a suit before your wedding, but it was quite the surprise — a pleasant one, at that.

Standing there in front of you, Jamie looked like he’d stepped right out of a magazine. Broad-shouldered, lean muscle wrapped in a midnight suit that clings just right, standing out among the tailored suits and smooth accents. The crisp white dress shirt only made his deep auburn hair look richer, slicked back smooth with every curl in place, and those dimples peeked out just as he caught you staring. His boots clack as he shifts, whiskey swirling in his hand, that silver band on his ring finger catching the glint of the chandelier. The sight of it alone sends any would-be admirer scuttling off with barely a second glance. He’s your plus one for the night, and the whole room knows it.

When he smiles, there’s a glint of trouble in his eyes, and those dimples—well, they could make even the stiffest folks around here swoon. He looks like the kind of man who just barely tolerates a tie, tugging at it with a smirk whenever he catches your gaze, as if to say, “You really think all this makes me any fancier?”

He’s still Jamie through and through: rugged under all that polish, with a bit of a roguish streak he could never quite hide. And tonight, even though he’s dressed up to meet your family and stand in this world of chandeliers and silk dresses, he’s every bit the man you fell for—charmingly untamed, with a quiet confidence that makes you weak in the knees.

Your friends try to pull you into old stories and polite gossip, but your eyes keep drifting back to him. Jamie’s gaze is steady, unwavering, as though he has little interest in the things around him. There’s a hint of a smirk playing at his lips every time he catches you staring, his dimples deepening, and that mischievous glint in his dark, loving eyes. You know that look too well. It’s possessive, fiercely protective, as if he’s daring anyone to even think about taking his bride-to-be.

The more you look at him, the more it pains you to look away. You try to play it cool, but he knows you too well—knew what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. It leaves you with thoughts from earlier in the day, making your knees weak all over again.

“My, my, he cleans up rather nicely,” a warm, familiar voice whistles beside you. “Don’t you agree, dear?” You jump, blinking back into the present, only to find your mother smiling knowingly.

“Distracted?” she teases, twirling you around to face her, an amused smile etched onto her red lips.

She glides past the group of dazzling damsels, fanning herself as she casts an appreciative glance toward Jamie. “Lord, honey,” she whispers in your ear, amused. “If he’s not about the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen—and the way he looks at you? It’s like he’s afraid the floor might steal you away.”

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, but her words are truer than she knows. Jamie tips his glass toward you from across the room, raising it in a silent toast. There’s something soft in his expression—a flicker of mirth in his dark eyes.

You almost let them drown you, submerge you in their warmth. If not for the grating sound to your left.

"Who might that be?"

"I haven't seen him around."

"Should I ask him for a dance?"

"Do you think he's spoken for?"

"Of course, look at the jewel on his finger!"

"I quite fancy him. Shall I pursue him anyways?"

"Oh, how shameful~!"

Some of the girls here are looking his way—of course, they are. Jamie has that rugged charm, like he was carved out of southern dirt and bathed in the evening sun, with the wild confidence of a man who knows he’s got nothing to prove. His auburn hair, slicked back in a style that both respects the occasion and still says he’s a cowboy first, gives him a sharp, roguish look that’s almost out of place here, like a tiger in a cage.

But despite the glances, the obnoxious remarks, no one dares approach him. The way his eyes follow you, even from a distance, says more than words ever could. He isn’t here to be seen; he’s here for you.

Yet, it doesn’t make it any easier to hold your tongue. You’ve hosted these parties since the age of fourteen and know how people behave here—their promiscuous ways, and the men who can’t help but leer. High-class harlots looking for any man to pounce on, taken or not. Greasy men following women’s every move, provoked or not. You remember too well. This was the yearly matchmaking party hosted by four of the wealthiest families in the city, your family being one of them. It wouldn’t look good if you didn’t attend the event your household had built its reputation around.

You knew Jamie would settle on keeping to himself, yet you hadn’t thought your rugged companion would be the talk of the party. That alone makes the joy blossoming in your chest wilt. For once, it feels as though he isn’t just your fiancé, but everyone’s. Of course, you want everyone to love him as much as you do—but without undressing him with their winged eyes.

Just then, Jamie makes his way over, his familiar smirk making your heart skip a beat. “Sugar,” he says, poking the soft flesh of your cheek, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, mischievous warmth. When he finally makes his way back to you, he tips his drink up, raising a brow. “Sugarplum.”

His words go in one ear and out the other, turning fuzzy and static as they pass through your mind. A deep frown settles at the corners of your lips as exasperation bubbles over.

“Jamie, stop it!” you huff, swatting his hands away. “You’ll ruin my makeup, you damn brute.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he murmurs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t bother moving his hand from the top of your head, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as if daring you to protest again. You turn away, cheeks flushed, doing your best to regain the poise you usually wear like a crown.

Jamie notices the pout you're trying to hide, his lips curling in amusement. For all your princess-like composure, you’re showing more than you realize tonight. He leans down, his voice low and teasing.

“Don’t pout, pumpkin. Fix your face.”

You glare up at him, crossing your arms, but he just chuckles, reaching for your hand. Before you can react, he pulls you closer, his grip firm yet careful, as if he were holding something precious.

“Remember, Sugar,” he murmurs, giving your kiss a long, playful smooch. MUAH! “You’re the main character.”

With a playful glint in his eye, he twirls you around, his hand never leaving yours as he guides you in a slow, elegant spin. You can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, your frown dissolving as he twirls you like with practiced ease.

Only then had you decided.

That night was quite the surprise indeed—

A pleasant one at that.

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[scary-lasagna]

oh oh oh!! Yandere proxies with a darling who, in the escape attempt, damages the proxy marking thing?

If a marking is damaged, it still relays a weak signal. Lesser creatures won't be able to detect it, but higher beings will. But damn, is it painful. It's a direct link to Slender, and then it's severed, it's disobedience. Disobedience is punished.

Masky

It was a knife, the very weapon used against you to subdue your 5th escape attempt.

You were a fighter, and that's why he wanted you.

That's why he adored you.

But damn. You could really pack a smart faced punch when you needed to.

He was on top of you, with the handle of his knife between his teeth, struggling to fist both of your wrists at the same time. And in a quick motion, you snatched the knife, chipping his tooth in the process, and swiped down on the shoulder of his jacket.

He screamed, completely blacking out in pain and clutching his shoulder. You managed to quickly scamper away as Masky starts heaving and collapsing on the ground, spots clouding his vision from the pain alone.

You didn’t waste time pushing yourself off of the bloody grass, and almost slipped as you ran into the brush of the forest.

Time seemed to escape you as you pounded your way through the forest, not caring where you went as long as you were keeping distance from Masky, who was hopefully still writhing in the ground in pain and regret.

But then you came to the conclusion that you were lost. You didn’t know how long you’ve been in the woods, how many times you’ve passed the same tree (or at least you thought it was), and why it seemed like something was following behind you.

It might just be a squirrel, right? But no, foolish [Y/N] this is the Black Forest, there are no harmless squirrels. Any creature in here following a cute little human like you has no good intentions to your health.

You didn't even have time to react to your quick, painless death of a snapping neck.

Hoodie

Hoodie is usually a bit more smarter than this, he knows how to protect his weak spots, unlike Masky who tends to act on reckless anger.

It was only a simple scratch as you flailed under his grip, consistently dragging you by your ankles and eventually the rim of your pants, which you quickly learned was an easy handle that he enjoyed dragging you around with.

A game of cat and mouse can only go on so long before the mouse gets eaten. Freedom was only steps away into that dark forest, you didn't care if you could find your way out, because you'd have a better chance of survival against the elements and beasts rather than with this complete psychopath.

But a measly little scratch, just enough to draw blood was enough to drag him down.

He was more fortunate than the others, getting by with only a scratch that felt like a hot, molten nickel erupting from the wound.

Hoodie's grip released, and you quickly freed yourself, scrambling away while he hunched in pain, screaming through his gritted teeth.

Hoodie's body was entirely tense, focused on the sheer amount of pain wrecking his body in wave after wave.

You almost paused to stare at the sight, not quite sure if it was a trap or not. He tended to trick you with little tests.

But you tested fate that day, and sprinted into the forest, letting him watch helplessly as you faded into the brush.

Toby

tw: seizure

Toby doesn't feel pain, but magic will not let a bad deed go unpunished no matter the circumstance.

In Toby's eyes, you only needed a little coaxing to stay still while he attempted to shackle the handcuffs on your wrists.

He'd given you too much freedom to be comfortable with.

A knife stuck out of Toby's back, although it took a moment for him to realize the marking was split open from the blood running down his back.

He felt no pain, but the hallucinations started soon after.

He kept screaming your name, calling for help, it was too pathetic for you to feel sympathy for, even if you had stayed to help him.

His wretched voice echoed throughout the house as you rushed toward any door, any window you spotted. Your mind rushed faster than you could make sense of it, and even opened a pantry in the rush of adrenaline.

You had to try the back door, which was past Toby's body in the living room.

And it fell unusually quiet.

But upon tiptoeing into the living room, with eyes wide and full of primal panic and focus, you noticed Toby convulsing on the ground.

But you didn't have any sympathy for him, you reminded yourself. Every villain as their golden moments, and in his delusions he loved you. But people don't hurt someone that they love. And they certainly do not threaten to lock them in handcuffs, to shove them into a windowless basement.

Foaming at the mouth, Toby wasn't present anymore, and didn't pose a threat even if the seizure did stop before you left.

You grabbed the keychain from his pocket, and unlocked the multiple locks lining the back door, and you disappeared from his life, hopefully for good this time.

When Toby finally woke up, the back door was open, a stupid racoon was picking through his hair.