#yandere singer

[suiana]

(yandere! singer x gn! pr reader)

'FAMOUS SINGER CAUGHT STALKING PERSON!'

'POP SINGER RUMOURED TO HAVE BEATEN UP MAN WHO WENT ON DATE WITH PR MANAGER!'

'TOP SINGER SAID TO HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH MANAGER!'

all these headlines only served to give you a headache as you forced a smile for the flashing cameras. currently you were in the middle of a press conference, attempting to salvage his reputation and calm down the media who was always looking for a juicy story.

yes, you were his pr manager. and yes, you were the person that was said to be the one this damned singer adored.

it was a huge headache, not only for you but his PR team that you led as well.

i mean, stalking? obsession? you'd have to do a major ass pull to get the public to stop shitting on him.

but this was just another regular day as his PR team. for he had always been getting into scandals ever since he debuted. so you were sure that everything would be back to normal soon enough. you had enough experience with him after all.

at first, his scandals were regular ones like relationships and such. however, things started changing when he fell for you.

getting into fights, stalking you...

god, you don't know how hard it was for you and your PR team to save his ass this time round. countless sleepless nights and lots of coffee were sacrificed so that this press conference would be perfected.

and yet... here he was messing everything up! god! you just wanted to smash your head against the table!

"hi... yes, i am here to address all the rumours in person. sorry for my late arrival."

the charming singer smiles, laughing boisterously as he crashes the initially perfect conference. god fucking damn it! if only he just listened to you and remained hidden for the time being, things would've been over by now! but no, he just had to be an attention whore and come waltzing in just as the conference was about to end.

"yes, i do adore my PR manager. yes, i did stalk them. no, I don't regret my actions. any other questions?"

he flashes his pearly whites at the cameras, posing as all the news reporters start throwing questions at him, eager for more information.

you merely let a lone tear drip sown your eyes, heavy eyebags on display as your hands clench the edge of the desk. all your hardwork, gone down the drain just like that. and the culprit was happily smiling.

...

is it too late to smash his head against the ground?

[2-dsimp]

How would lynx react if I tied him up and teased him by wearing something he likes or just being an teasing asshole to him

Lynx the Harpy Would hate it.

The Singer refuses to be on the receiving end of being tied up under any circumstances. He’s a free birdy and he plans on keeping it that way. Would be extremely fussy and complain a lot should you attempt at tying him up. He’d also demand a lot of compensation for going through such a traumatizing experience.

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: IDOL EDITION

“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃. “

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! idol! oc (jisoo han) x superfan/manager! reader

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, reader is also yandere at the start, mentions of anxiety and self harm, honestly idol life is its own tw

HAPPY HANA NO SEIIKI ANNIVERSARY YA’LL!!

[ series masterlist ]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“Oh gosh (oh gosh) this is so crazy. I’ve fallen in love again.

I trip so easily.

Adore new things, they sparkle.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Dunno, just am.”

Your entire life revolved around Yesterday’s Dawn’s ace, Eve. The idol who had been in everyone’s lips. Whose name had been heard throughout nations you’ve never even heard of.

He was your sun, the reason you had the energy to wake up every single day, the light of your life.

Every waking moment you spent it either thinking of him or offering your services for name.

It was normal for you to spend hours looking at his schedule, knowing where he was, being around him most times, or staring at media of him.

Somehow, you were able to land a job as his manager.

You were finally closer to your god.

But you swiftly find out that no man should be likened to one for only disappointment can be found in such a path.

Eve was a lot more . . . burnt out than you expected. A lot less passionate and energetic than he was in camera if not irritable.

It was normal for him to harass workers when they didn’t meet a standard he imposed, as such, after the first few weeks of your employment everyone that you were with have already been fired, quit, and/or paid to keep their silence on the matter.

Yet your feelings for him only stayed; as your employment with the company. Your meticulous and proactive nature as a fan site owner allowed you to take much of the workload he threw at you.

The little admiration you have left for the man kept you standing.

And if only you were a little less stressed you’d notice his scarlet eyes providing stares of amusement, bewilderment, and growing affection.

You never complained (at least, in a place where he could hear you).

Whenever he asked for impossible items or schedules you’ll simply grin and work things out in your little way.

You adjusted to his turbulent temperament as quickly as an experienced pilot in a stormy sky, a sailor of uncharted, dangerous waters.

You were brilliant. Reminiscent of his times as a trainee.

Bit by bit he started lessening your workload. Allowing you to rest. Hell, even giving you his coffee if he didn’t want it. He never gives away his coffee.

You acquiesced to many of his whims but were never a pushover. Always doing your job perfectly. Keeping him in line.

He would have fallen for you already, had he not been in love with someone else.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“Peek-a-boo! It’s only love when my heart quivers.

All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem.

I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine!”

“ For this comeback period, [L/N] will be assigned to Hayate instead. Eve will have his senior’s manager work with him instead.”

“Understood.”

You were assigned to another member around Spring.

Yesterday Dawn’s most hectic time of the year aside from fall as the group’s concept was as the name suggested, focused more on nostalgia and times of youth.

You were relieved.

You never thought you would have been able to say that after being separated from Eve, but now it was the only thing you had on your mind.

No more late night calls about wanting coffee but throwing the leftovers at you the moment he was sick of the taste, no more work being thrown at you and taken away at random moments, no more working around his schedule so that he’ll have time to meet that dear senior of his in private.

You were free.

Hayate was known to be the harsher one in the fandom, but much like Eve his image was a bit different from his actual self.

Sure he was demanding, but he was fair. He wasn’t controlled by whims and impulse. You were finally able to do your job properly til the end, and you didn’t always feel a judging stare from him like Jisoo would always throw at you.

You were finally able to smile.

However, you see, being a manager for another member did not mean you would completely be free of your original client.

Hayate and Eve worked quite closely, and as such, you’d often help with Jisoo’s requests even if you weren’t obligated to.

Eve immediately saw the change in you.

You were, a lot more bright. Less haggard. Your voice less hoarse. Relaxed.

You were already getting along better with his group member than you ever did with him.

Eve wasn’t really the type to show his anger actively. He was always more, passive.

The senior he was head over heels for was slowly forgotten as he’d spent countless of hours pouring his feelings into his music. What was supposed to be a bittersweet spring album turned out to be one of sour regret and frustration.

Of course, it was still a hit. It even scored him a collaboration with the senior he oh so wanted to have their eyes on him. But all he could think of as he went to bed early in the morning was the way you’d laugh whenever Hayate spoke to you.

Hmph, the guy wasn’t even funny.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“Hey you, do you wanna play a game? I already know what you want.

Close your eyes and count to 10. Don’t matter anyways

Cause I am going to find you.”

“Did you hear? Jisoo got his first scandal. Apparently he bullied a bunch of students during high-school.”

“Wasn’t he . . . homeschooled?”

Causing scandals was easy. Dealing with scandals was not.

All Eve had to do was talk to some people, had a few pictures edited and voila, chaos.

It was amusing really, his company superiors would ply him with reassurances and sweet words; telling him that everything will be fine and dealt with while his pr managers dropped down like flies trying to prevent the flames of hatred from spreading too far.

All of them, hopelessly unaware.

All but his stupid senior.

“Why are you doing this now, Ji?”

They always looked down at him almost. Like he was a petulant child that needed to be coddled or scolded depending on their mood.

“We should focus on the track.”

And like he expected, you were brought right back to him. As you should be.

The heads figured out that you were the only one capable of handling the shitstorm without falling into the hands of alcohol or other substances in grief.

And as they expected you did.

After all, you had a timeline of his entire life in a canva document. Even if it was only mentioned once in a concert interview before they went famous. You were an Eve superfan.

All you did was confirm the fact that Jisoo got homeschooled by contacting his parents and teachers, and the rest was easy. You even reactivated your fansite for such an occasion.

If only you hadn’t.

Maybe then Jisoo wouldn’t have a definite reason to pursue you.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“You’ll never get this concept, you might as well forget it

Just play again, bet it all, roll the dice

BLANCA”

Eve thought he was doing well in terms of romancing you.

Ever since he found out about your fansite instead of feeling disgust and horror he felt . . . great, amazing even. A high the stage could never give him.

Of course, you two were destined.

It was only his duty to protect you as your partner, to spoil you, dote on you.

Even if you don’t realize your intertwined fates yet.

. . .

Eve always hovered over you.

Usually managers took shifts with watching over the idols. Half of your time was supposed to be spent planning rather than overseeing his activities.

Yet you seemed to have a never ending babysitting responsibility.

Your past self would have committed several war crimes for the sake of this opportunity. But after a year or so under his ‘care’ you found yourself slowly veering off into the type of insanity you didn’t like falling in.

You felt a bit like Andy from the original Devil Wears Prada book, only that your resentment simmered slowly. Forming into a hideous red sludge of exasperation whenever he randomly wanted to take a vacation. Forcing only you to come with him. Which meant an even bigger workload, and even more people to talk to for flights, schedule conflicts, reservations and all that.

You snapped.

It was a calm afternoon.

The sun was burning you alive as Eve insisted you two would go on a ‘beach date’ for some summer fun.

He shoved a drink in your hand.

And you just broke down.

Tears fell from your eyes, your breath shallow.

You asked him if this amused him. If your suffering was funny to him. If making you fall over just to get his demands on time made him feel fulfilled as a person.

And before he could answer you ran.

A week after that your schedule was finally normal.

Eve kept his distance. Not just from you but from everyone.

You knew of his anxiety attacks and depression before. But seeing those up close and personal scared you.

Things only get worse from here.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“So it’s too late you’re in the game now. If you keep up might not lose it.

The jungle gym of fun, like hell yeah

Makin the moon fall down down down.”

Eve spent most of his ‘hiatus’ watching your posts of him. Edits, fanfictions, photography, fancams.

Of course, it wasn’t to see himself perform again. He already did that on a regular basis to make sure he kept himself up to the standards of an idol.

It was to see your captions.

Your fanatic raving made him feel . . . loved.

Your previous thoughts on his performances made him feel complete. Like he found a missing piece of a puzzle he kept trying to put something else to fill it in.

Another part of his hiatus was spent preparing for his graduation. The termination of his contract.

It was clear you didn’t love him as an idol anymore. It was his fault really. He couldn’t see how he was hurting you with his work and desires.

If there was another thing he can thank his idol work for was the amount of money he had saved.

Now, he had a new home built far away from civilization. It was completely soundproof. The bed he ordered was custom made, tailored to your preferences this time rather than his. Food stocked to the nines. A few instruments here and there so he could compose even while retired.

He can always make a new song, a new life for you two to enjoy together.

“My voice, my body, my soul. It had always been yours. I just didn’t realize it.”

✧ [AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

For more EVE content check out the #hns.eve tag 🩵

Lyrics are a mix of translations from the og song and Mitch Joseph’s cover.

OFFICIAL EVE CHARACTER AI

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

[bay-sil]

Yandere Singer (Italics is in Dutch)

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎.

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 "𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎!" 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛, "𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞!" 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙳𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 "𝙸 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝙻𝚞𝚔𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚎 ��𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎" 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎.

𝚈/𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚢 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖. 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚈/𝚗.

𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌, 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝, 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙸𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍…𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚙, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍. "𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚔" 𝚈/𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚢𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚎.

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌. 𝙷𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢. 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚙 "𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘?" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 "𝙾𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎!" 𝙷𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 ��𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 "𝚂𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 ���𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐?" 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 "𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝙸'𝚖 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 "𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎?" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝 "𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏" 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 "𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚈/𝚗" 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚍𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚈/𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍, 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚔. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 "𝙲-𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜?" 𝚈/𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 "𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎" 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 "𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗. 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜" 𝙷𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚙 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜.

𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝟸 𝙰𝙼 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 a𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚙 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 "𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?" 𝙷𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 "𝙽𝚊𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎" 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚜, 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖? 𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑, 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝. 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?

𝙶𝚎��𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚗. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎. 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗. 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠, 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝙽𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 - 𝙷𝚎𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚈/𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑. 𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙼𝚛. 𝚅𝚊𝚗 𝙳𝚒𝚓𝚔

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚌𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 - 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑!! 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝! 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚈/𝚗!!!!

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖? 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖? 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝!! 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍.

(Also he put your name in as "💜 Y/n 💜" and you put his in as Stephan Van Dijk)

I hope you guys like Stephan, he was a lot of fun to write for and I have a lot planned for him :)

[peoplesgraves]

With The Band

Yandere Band X Reader

Who would’ve thought that going to a concert would be the end of your life. You’re just dancing and trying to scream sing along with their songs, being pushed around and eventually you get shoved right up to the front and the band is just enamored. Even with messy hair from dancing and a light sheen of sweat from how hot and crowded it is, they still think you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.

The singer stumbles over words that they’ve sung a thousand times and the drummer is breaking sticks left and right. By the time the concerts winding down the band doesn’t even have the patience to banter with their fans like they usually do, all they can think about it is getting off stage and getting to you.

You’re about to file out when a security guard tells you that the band has invited you back stage to thank you for your enthusiasm. Who are you to turn down an opportunity like that? So you follow him to the bands dressing room just as nervous as they were.

The bands in their dressing room talking in loud hushed whispers about all the contingencies. Like what if you say no to their invitation or you end up not liking them. All their worry goes out the window when they see you standing in the door way though. You look even prettier away from the harsh stage lights.

You thinks it’s a little weird when you’re the only one there but the band is so sweet and welcoming that you ignore the pit in your stomach. What you thought would be a short meet and greet quickly turns into an all night bender. You don’t mean to get as intoxicated as you do but the band is just so insistent and so soft.

The drummer is pulling you into his lap rubbing his rough hands absentmindedly up and down your arms. They hand you drink after drink and at one point when you try to wriggle away from taking another sip they force the entire thing down your throat until you’re spluttering mess.

It should scare you but the way the bassist softly wipes the spilled drink from around your mouth while the rest of the band coos, combined with the copious amount of booze in your system, confuses you.

Pretty soon you’re out of your mind and can only focus on them, they’ll only let you focus on them. They take advantage of your inebriation to leave kisses and marks on any bit of exposed skin and their hands wander under the outfit you’d so carefully put together just for them.

Not going all the way but proving they could if they really wanted to. Eventually you slump against them, if you were anyone else they’d be upset at you for ruining their fun but you weren’t just anyone. Instead the singer gathers your limp form into their arms and one after the other they shuffle out of the messy room and towards home. Just a band and their forever groupie.

[yanchive]

I got permission to expand on this idea, so I'm gunna share my thoughts and what I came up with regarding this cool idea. I got the concept of this from the OP of the previous post, @coveredinsoot , so credits goes to them. I used he/him for the Yan, and they/them for the Darling so all readers can enjoy. I haven't written something like this in ages. Forgive me.

TW: Yandere themes(obv), mentions of drug use(non consentual), minor mentions of sexual themes, not proofread very well I wrote this first thing in the morning. I hadn't even gotten out of bed lmao

-A recap of my tags in the previous post, my idea followed the premise of a yan whose darling is an employee working under the record label/idol agency(whichever one you prefer) he is signed onto. They could have a position working somewhat in the same sphere as their Yan. My first thought was maybe a touring staff, but I felt specifically that they could be a photographer who was hired solely to work under Yans label.

-They do the shooting for promos, they participate in the creation of music videos, go on tours to get photos at concerts, etc. They work alongside Yan, but rarely interact outside of the professional setting. Darling has a job they have to do, and getting personal with the artist they're assigned to work under is a risky thing, so they choose to keep their casual interactions to a minimal to avoid scandals.

-While Darling is putting their attention all into their career, Yan is forced to get his unrequited feelings out via music. Filling notebooks after notebooks with sickingly sweet words, turning them into lyrics that get pumped out to fans, who all imagine themselves as the reciever of such romantic tales of woe.

-Yan constantly sneaks details about his Darling into his music, from mentioning small physical traits on their body like the color of their hair and eyes, to maybe even scars and birthmarks no one would or should know unless they've seen them partially or fully naked. They would constantly bring up traits revolving around the Darlings personality most of the time, but no matter how many details they place in their songs, it just seems to go over Darlings head

-Yan constantly asks Darling what their thoughts are on his new music, hoping to one day see their eyes light up and realize they were the center of all his music and finally return his feelings, but Darling only ever gives vague compliments to him, telling him his music is great but really never delves to deep into the lyrics or sound.

-Yan finally comes to terms, after watching over his Darling for months, maybe even years, the Darling just never gives his music an actual proper chance, and that's why they never pick up on all the lyrics that would eerily describe them to a T. Yan decides to be a bit more risky, and take his lovey dovey songs into more darker territory.

-Its an obvious switch. Going from themed albums that would have him in more colorful attire and poppy beats, to more darker fashion and seductive tones. Clearly the Cloud 9, cutesy romance didn't do the trick, so maybe he could lure his Darling in with a more mature persona.

-Lyrics become much more sexual in nature, singing of long nights underneath the covers, decorating each others skin in marks, all the things that gets the crowds riled up. He isn't afraid to drop hints/details about kinks he picked up that his Darling seemed to be interested in(well at least that's what Darlings search history says).

-His fame skyrockets after the new change, and he sees his Darling has started to pick up a bit of an interest in his music(fucking finally). They notice a little bit of how Yan seems to keep a certain image of someone within his lyrics. Mentions of the same hair color(and if Darlings one to dye their hair, will even mention the change in hair color in the song(s), same eye color, same attributes both physically and personality wise. But despite that, Darling still hadn't gotten deep enough into the music to put the puzzle pieces together. Though they did make a joke about how much they related to this mystery person from the small amount of details they picked up.

-Yan definitely had to bite his tongue and hold his hands behind his back to keep from exploding after hearing that. So damn close, his Darling is right fucking there, the density this Darling had was driving Yan up the wall, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find a little excitement in it. At this point he done already turned it into a game.

-The music just gets darker from there, and while the crowds of unwavering loyal fans eat up each word like its their last meal, Darling is finally becoming suspicious. Not just from the odd lyrics Yan has been singing, but also behaviors being exhibited behind the curtains. Around the first change in sound, when Yan took his music down a darker route, Yan had begun being more pushy with spending more time with his Darling. Following them around like a lost puppy between photoshoots. Trying his damnest to get Darling to hang out with him outside of work. Throwing parties just in an attempt to get Darling out of their professional persona around him. Constantly buying them things, showing up out of no where to chat with them, it was overwhelming.

-It was only getting worse, especially since Yan was beginning to slip up and say things about Darling that he shouldn't know. Afterall, Darling never told him such things. Coupled that with the fact that his lyrics in his new album sing of kidnapping and basements and a whole bunch of stuff that aren't at all romantic anymore, Darling is getting wary. They can't seem to go anywhere without this nagging feeling they weren't alone and something was wrong. They even begin looking into changing to a different label or becoming an independent photographer just to get away from overwhelming nature of their Yan.

-And Yan picks up on it. He realizes he isn't winning them over like this anymore, and he's now down to his last resort. He's always been a tad sadistic, even in the beginning he had a bit of joy daydreaming about kidnapping Darling and having them caged in his awfully large mansion, only having Darling ever see and hear from him. He's spent many hours in bed imagining ways to condition and brainwash Darling into relying on him, maybe even getting them so reliant on Yan that he'd be able to have them follow him once again on tours just so they could always be together every waking moment of their lives.

-But to get to that point, he was going to have to start at step 1.

1. Throw a party. At this point they had become common, as this was something he used in the past to get Darling to come out and spend time with him. He'd use the same excuse he's used in the past. He wants his favorite photographer to come and take amazing photos of the party so he can put them on his Instagram for bragging rights.

2. Get them chilled out. Darling never drinks alcohol at these parties. They have an expensive camera they need to protect, and taking decent camera shots require a steady hand. So Yan will make his own concoction for Darling. Darling only said they won't drink alcohol, they never mentioned anything else...

3. Take them out of the crowd and into a more quiet... secluded area of the house. They were never big on parties, its so easy to get overwhelmed, and now they're drowzy and stumbling over themselves and their words. Can't even stand up let alone walk. They clearly need some rest. Luckily Yan has everything they need to keep them comfortable. Now that they've finally made it home they can rest easy on their new bed while Yan finishes up closing down the party for the night.

4. Now a new life can be started. One much more suited to Yans taste. A life his amazing music has sung tales of since the day Yan fell in love...

[hana-no-seiiki]

Omfg I love this!! I’m literally crying wtf You guys basically captured Eve’s personality.

And yes dw anon, that part of the fic was mostly crack lmfaoOo

Another thing Feroze might be able to cash in if Manager falls in love/sides with/prefers Eve, is Eve flirting with literally everyone he meets. You aren’t actually special to him!! He treats everyone the same. (Except Eve does that as a coping mechanism for how declined atrocious he is for Manager)

Eve is a lot of things, but never a goody two shoes. A part of idol training is how one would train their image and Eve has got it down to a science. He’s gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss to the max. He knows what he wants and he will fight tooth and nail to get it. Over a decade of idol training/being on the scene and he has not slowed down when it comes to passion and ambition. During your time with him, he’d often threaten you with throwing away his nice guy image if you didn’t act like how he wanted but with a sweet, light tone that you didn’t really notice how horrid he was being. Though you’ve mostly forgotten it.

(His tattoo canonically matches with another idol but for the sake of this scenario let’s say he got it after you refused to eat lunch with him. It was painful, it was certainly a stain on his prim and proper image (the country he comes from condemns such ‘horrid acts’ against the body), but he had a message and it was definitely received)

Also Eve is definitely a simp for Feroze. Before Manager left him for the rockstar, he had playlists upon playlists of the dude’s stuff from wayyy back then. Which still continued to the present and lessened the blow of your abandonment. At least you left him for someone worth your time.

Just imagine Feroze showing up to Eve’s studio for once. Amused, maybe even slightly concerned, over the amount of merch Eve has of him. Like he has the same guitar(s), posters . . . a used t-shirt ? Wait is that his hair —

Then rockstar looks through the internet to find smol early debut Eve always talking about him, reacting to his entire discography consistently on WLive, screeching his songs in fansigns.

. . .

He can work with this.

genie. please tell me Feroze isn't actually replacing manager and he and eve are actually bonding over their obsession with manager and will be even worse on them, pls I need to kno for my health

anyway HEADCANON TIIIIME!!!

Feroze is secretly feeling superior to Eve because you stayed with him despite how much of a headache he is, and didn't abandon him for a better deal like you did to Eve. Eve secretly feels superior because he was your 'first'.

Eve is dying to 'have' manager (ifykwimwinkwink) and is trying to get Feroze to give him juicy details of what you like. Idk how Feroze feels about this help lol

Feroze realizes very quickly that Eve is sweet and submissive compared to him, a goody two shoes, and makes him his minion. Now Feroze has a smaller version of himself flitting around doing his bidding, all with the goal of ensnaring you. You're hopeless now

When you get closer to Eve again and get really, really attached really quickly, it takes ten seconds for Feroze to get so scared he's about to call on a dark god to help him keep your favor.

You're now sandwiched in between an overtly dark yandere and a yandere who keeps his darkness well hidden. It's refreshing but overwhelming lol

(nonnie is talking about this post)

nah nah dw both of them would never even dream of replacing you!! so i can’t speak on eve’s behalf (you’ll have to ask yun for that) —

buuut what i can say is that though eve was not was feroze was expecting, they’ve both got something in common, and honestly? feroze, after realising just how similar they really are in their motives and desires, may be starting to develop a strange, twisted affection for him. (you see where this is going?)

granted, it’s a pleasant surprise. was he pissed at first, and ready to ruin eve’s life before he met him, after hearing you sing his praises, “my last client was an idol, and he was such an angel, rosy.” —?? yes. even after the initial meeting, both men still had their own little superiority complex. (feroze, because you’d stayed with him waaay longer, and eve, because he’d been your first, well, everything)

buuuut over time, realising the obsessive nature of the idol’s very.. parasocial relationship with you, how you generally didn’t mind being around him, how sweet and (surprisingly not irritating, feroze mused, watching the man warm up for their sessions with a speed exercise on the electric guitar) eve was — he sees… how should i put this — promising grounds for collaboration.

and i don’t mean that just for music, but maybe in keeping you happy and satisfied (in more ways than one) <3

isn’t is better you stick with the rockstar and the idol, instead of wandering off? besides, feroze would be lying if he said he hadn’t taken a liking towards eve, with his charming personality. eve’s looks and sweet words were just the cherry on top really. he was so eager for your approval and god it was adorable how easily you fell for it when feroze could see right through him.

because you are so horribly wrong of you think, even for a moment, eve is feroze’s minion. oh, he’s just as fucked up and possessive as your rockstar, only he’s better at hiding it, putting on this sweet, happy go lucky persona around you all the time, when his thoughts are anything but.

you know what they say: like calls to like.

their ‘relationship’ works so well because they’re polar opposites of each other. it’s like a constant game of good cop, bad cop except one’s a moody, scandalous rockstar and the other’s a well loved idol and an absolute sweetheart. they balance each-other out, but with their infatuation with you, and the means they’re willing to go with it, they’re so much more similar than they’d seem at first glance.

but how unlucky for you. :( if you thought dealing with one psycho musician hopelessly enamoured with you was enough, now you’ve got two.

good luck, dear manager — because god, you’re gonna need it <3

[allurilove]

Yandere Manager x singer you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: yandere male manager x gender neutral singer reader, he’s secretly pining after you, your own little stalker, forbidden romance ig, male masturbation, takes pics of you sleeping, non con touching.

You met your yandere manager at the bar. You had been a part of a small band that never really made it big, but you always had shone brighter than the rest. You were magnetic, already having that star potential, and happened to sit right next to the man who worked for one of the best record companies. He just got off work, his sleeves pushed up above his elbow, and his glasses folded neatly next to him. He never really liked to drink, he was a different person when he did, but today was a special occasion. You were here. He already knew who you were, and he used a second low-key instagram account to see your stuff. He glanced at you. Your get-up was cute. He assumed that you came back from a concert or party, as there was a bit of confetti in your hair. You wore minimal and possibly sweat-proof makeup, and your eyes were striking with the black eyeliner.

Your manager sort of fell for you the first time he met you. It wasn’t easy to catch his attention, but you managed to do it. He had slid you his business card, paid for the rest of your drinks, and put on his best speech to convince you to sign with him. You became a solo artist in the blink of an eye, your singles and albums making it to the top forty, and you had the fame you wanted for so long. It just came with the price of having a stalker. As a manager, he had your location at all times. For safety purposes… of course. He threw a cap on, tiptoeing around the city to spy on you and your friends.

Your manager was responsible for your fan club. He would never tell you this, because it was simply embarrassing to admit, but he made a blog to gush about you. ‘A hundred reasons why you should stan y/n’ was the beginning of his secret outlet. He was the one that started the #manager and y/n would be cute hashtag on twitter, uploading a bunch of pictures of you and him having a ‘sweet’ moment. He spent hours scouring the internet to watch countless of edits of you, and he even made some himself. His cold and methodical demeanor would disappear the moment he was in the comfort of his home. He would lay in his bed, giggling and kicking his feet, twirling a piece of his hair as his eyes lit up at the sight of you on his screen.

Your manager acts like a helicopter parent. He’s always on your ass. He never texts you paragraphs or long sentences, so he could spam you and make sure you had definitely seen his messages.

“Where are you?”

“Out drinking again?”

“What happened to being responsible?”

“You have a show in two days.”

“I’ll be disappointed in you if you are drunk.”

“You better be at my house in two seconds.”

“Two seconds or I’m coming to get your ass.”

He liked you being drunk (only when you were around him). You would mumble and whine, his name on your lips constantly as you complained. And he got to be your hero for a while. He also forbids you from having any groupies. If you and him can’t fuck, then you can’t see anyone else. It was as simple as that. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you being with other people, and that’s why he had you at his apartment 24/7. When you were traveling for your shows, you best believe it that he was with you too. To him, it felt like you guys were practically married. Living together on the same bus, cooking together, sleeping near each other in close quarters. He would never cross the line when you were conscious; but when you were sleeping… it was free game.

The yandere manager took pictures of you. You were so worn out after your concerts, that you didn’t feel him moving your body. You trusted him because he gave you zero reasons not to. You trusted him enough that you didn’t expect him to start peeling off your clothes. He wanted his camera roll to be filled with your body. He gently put his hand on your thighs, squeezing the fat as he snapped a picture of you in your underwear. His fingers would sometimes find its way inside your mouth, subtly testing out your gag relax, and filming it for his pleasure. He flipped you onto your stomach, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and had his camera working hard to catch up with his thumb. He rapidly pressed against the button, trying to catch all the angles of your ass and sex.

Your manager touches his dick when you send him raw recordings of your voice. You were a night owl, your brain never shutting down until three a.m. and you sent him new songs you were working on. He plugged in his earbuds, lying back onto his bed, and hit play. He hummed the newest lyrics, his eyes closing as his hand slowly traveled down towards his crotch. He palmed himself, feeling his dick hardening in his grey sweatpants. He wanted you badly.

Your manager thought you were perfect, drop dead gorgeous and fucking hot. You have this sex appeal that makes his knees weak. He imagined you whispering the words to him: the heat of your voice warming the side of his face, your hand feeling up this tip, and wrapping around his long cock. Would you think that his dick was impressive? Would you be happy with how much cum that shoots out? Would you love it so much to gulp all of it down?

“Fuckin’ hell. Take it down your throat.”

“You love this don’t you? My big star.”

Your yandere manager wanted to sleep with you so badly. But he swore to himself to not get involved with another one of his clients. He groaned, his eyes opening to stare at his blank white ceiling, and his desperate cock softened in his hand. He hadn’t gotten any action lately, and he was oh so waiting to find the perfect moment to be with you.

Allure: extra stuff! idk i feel iffy about this fic

this is definitely reader and yandere managers text messages.

[yandereforme]

Yan Batfam x Singer! Single mom! Martha lookalike! Reader

( I know it’s a lot but they are all important to the plot)

Part 1:Beginnings and first encounters

You are Bruce’s bio daughter. Your mom, who didn’t know who the father of her kid was, gave you up to your aunt to be raised by them, but you didn’t know until your adoptive parent’s funeral that you weren’t their biological daughter. You had twins recently with a shitty ex of yours who you broke up with not long before the funeral after he tried to hurt your daughter for crying.

After the funeral, where you learn that your bio mom wasn’t sure who your bio dad was, but that she knew he lived in Gotham, you decide to move to Gotham. In part due to your biological father, in part due to avoiding your ex(who had refused to be listed on the birth certificate since you gave birth during a break in your relationship), and in part due to the basically free house your bio mom had owned in Gotham. So, you moved with the twins to an abandoned, slightly dilapidated house just outside of Crime Alley, and got yourself to work.

You got a job at the Ice berg Lounge, in part due to there being an opening, and in part due to you helping two women who worked there who apparently worked right under Mr. Cobblepot?

You quickly got a reputation as a singer with a knack for knowing just what song fit a customer. It was a bit of a game between you and the other workers, where they would point out a person and you would sing a song based on their vibes. You always managed your hit home with your songs, leading to you becoming one of the most popular performers at the Iceberg Lounge.

That’s what leads to Red Hood coming in one night. He had heard about you from a few of his men, and wanted to know what all the hype was about.(This take place after the Red Hood arc, where he has already been established as a crime boss and the Batfamily know his identity, but he hasn’t made up with any of them)

Cobblepot asked you to sing a song for Red, and pointed him out to you. You knew who he was, you were just outside his area, and honestly you kind of liked what he was doing for the community, so you were willing to preform, even offering to sing two songs about him(something you had only done a few times with regulars who you really liked.

Jason accepted. You started off with You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring. You didn’t usually do a lot of rock songs, but that song resonated with you when you looked at him.(Jason loved the song. It was angry but fighting music, and your voice was really good. He understood why so many of his men praised your music(he just couldn’t understand why you looked so familiar))

The next song was different. You didn’t usually sing two songs, and the few times you did, people tended to vary reactions, from shock to anger to accidentally setting off a break down. But you had promised. You just hoped Red Hood wouldn’t hate you for the next song(you didn’t understand why it felt so right to sing the next song, when it didn’t seem like a Red Hood song, but you didn’t want to question it now.)

Then, you sang Good for you by Olivia Rodrigo, and everyone froze. (Jason didn’t know how you knew this anger of his. How did you know how he felt about Bruce replacing him? How did you know?) No one understood the song, especially when the recipient was a murderous crime boss, but they didn’t interrupt.

After you finished the song, you looked at Red Hood. He was sitting ramrod straight. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture was very tense. Slowly, he stood up, and walked to the stage. You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t for him to drop $200 in your tip jar, and leave without a word.(Jason’s head was spinning. The green wasn’t invading, but it surrounded the edges of his vision. He needed to leave. He had to come back again, probably as a civilian, but for now, he needed to leave.)

After that, you got even more visitors, and a raise in your salary. You even made a new friend, Jason, and you were even starting to consider sending your kids to daycare instead of a baby sitter(you wouldn’t do that. You liked your arrangement with the street kids, where you would pay them in food and cash to watch your kids during the day. You liked taking care of them, but they needed to feel like they were doing stuff for you, so you didn’t make a fuss.)

Then, the Joker got out of Arkham.

Edit: I hope you guys enjoy this. This will probably be a series. I’ve had this idea for ages but never got around to it before now. This isn’t related to my Bruce or Jason series, which I will do, but I just wanted to finally put the on here. Please comment any suggestions for the kids names, or what you want to see next!

[reveluving]

cold little kisses ; yandere!singer x reader

summary: Omar's love knows no bounds.

warnings: s~mut (minors DNI!) & tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: I LOVE @oncomingnight 's OCs to BITS, but Omar has been haunting me for DAYS. OP if you're reading this, hi!! Quick question; is the man in the original post like someone someone? ‘Cause he now comes to mind whenever I think of him ✋🏼😔 Hope you don't mind me giving this sweetheart a go! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

'But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.' ;

Smut includes: unprotected sex (p in v), cockwarming, slight teasing & marking, drools & sweat, body worship, soft!dom!Omar!

Omar believed you were God's gift at its purest form, and to be the luckiest son of a gun when you bestowed before him that very day?

Absolute miracle.

There was no way he could have wiped the lovestruck smile off his face every morning, waking up to you in your most vulnerable.

The extravagant sight of Quebec was already a treat as it was, enjoying the spot with his wife was another. He was more than content to watch you marvel at the snowy night, eyes twinkling in the fairy lights as the snowflakes fell on you like an extraordinary being blessing the Earth, but that would be unceremonious of him.

“Omar, look.” You gasped for the umpteenth time tonight, bending down at the line of the nation's quintessential souvenirs, handcrafted in ways that would surely grab the attention of first-time tourists. Those familiar with the renowned singer were kind enough to leave him and his beloved be, going only as far as taking a picture of the two from a distance to share on their social media later and rake in OMGs or any other forms of awe.

That, and many were smart enough to stay away, having witnessed the more intimidating side of him online at the mere mention of you in manners that never sat right with him.

“Would you like that one?” He asked, his deep voice never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“Omar, we already have so much.” You raised the bags in your hands, plus motioning to the majority that he had offered to hold. Brows furrowing a little in a way that you feel guilty that he has to play tour guide for you, no matter how many times you have visited.

“Well, who else is going to beautify our new bookshelf, if not you?” He chuckled, languidly walking over to stand next to you. He briefly surveyed the souvenirs through the glass, only for his eyes to flit towards you within seconds, prompting your face to burn, despite the chilly air hitting you, “We're buying it.”

Omar ducking his head was a telltale sign of him wanting to steal a kiss, but rather than feeling his lips on yours, he pecked the cold tip of your nose. Embarrassed by the affectionate display in public, you hid your face in his chest, your giggles vibrating through him.

That didn't stop him from showering you with more, planting kisses after kisses on the top of your head while he rested his free hand on the small of your back.

But like the greedy man he was, he never stopped. Not even when the two of you returned to his cabin.

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glassy to the point where you couldn't pinpoint the nature on the other side of the window beyond silhouettes. Your mind was no better, your brain already in the midst of turning mush in favour of him prodding your cervix.

He cooed at you, akin to a delicate flower if not for the way one of his hands gripped at your ass tightly. Blunt nails leaving marks for him to appreciate in the next sunrise. His other hand lightly held the back of your head, leaving you no choice but to stare back at him in a drunken haze.

Omar welcomed your drools and tears dripping down his chest, occasionally leaving damp marks on his shirt, all unbuttoned but barely removed from his shoulders. The half-disheveled look on him was a sight to behold, the oh-so-put-together-singer nowhere to be seen.

You felt full, and you were full, the stretch around him evident when bouncing you up and down his cock required his aid. You would've fallen back or sagged in his arms if not for his own holding you snug against his chest. Although, that didn't mean he wasn't seconds away from losing himself into the feeling either—falling back into the velvet seat with one arm around you, chest heaving in shallow breaths and skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

His body akin to a Greek God, created to worship his one and only with loyalty, riches and silk, and protect you from the dangers of humanity alone, or even the unforgiving weather that occured beyond the safety of his luxurious cabin.

Lost in the way you squeezed him each time he rolled his hips, he surged forward, wrapping his lips around one of your pebbled tits. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his face further into your breasts as he shamelessly looked up at you through his lashes.

“Omar…” You hiccuped, brushing your lips against his forehead, moving your hips when he stilled you for a moment. It felt sickly sweet. something only he had the privilege of—of your body and soul, “Move, please…”

He couldn't say no to you, not now, not ever, even if he wanted nothing more than to listen to your pretty voice and hold you real close.

So long your lips, your mind, your you—could do nothing more than reciprocate his own desires, he'd only stop at his own expense when hell freezes over.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» Bonus HC from the train pic on OP's post:

I love the thought of Omar, with his reading glasses as he writes the lyrics of his upcoming song on a journal and casually drinks his coffee. But he's also watching his beloved play a one-player card game in front of him with a warm smile. UGH.

» deadass could not help it. this is one of those 'if I don't do something about it, no matter how short or quick it is, I'll sure as hell think about it for a LONG time.' ksjslsksls ;; tagging @firefly-graphics for the gorgeous divider ♡

[2-dsimp]

Are you still doing scenarios? If so, can I suggest a yandere celebrity with a reader that's a fan of theirs?

Maybe The yandere is a singer in a famous band that sees the reader as his 'muse'.

【meet the Harpy pt1!】

【Y/N】 Being happy to be at their favorite rock band concert and is Vibing in the front row crowd

《Harpyboi》 Searching like a madman for any trace of his muse within the crowd.

《He spots you.》

《Harpyboi》 ‘OMG they’re wearing my courting gift. They want me! They need me..!’

‘T h e y l o v e m e . . .’

《Harpyboi》 Who immediately rips the backstage pass from his managers hands after the show. And kidnaps you to his private nesting spot where y’all could have your own private “meet and greet session”.

。

。

。

TBC

I don’t got a name for the harpy boi sooo I’m gonna ask y’all for some suggestions using any of these letters below (>^ω^<)

→ HLPSUVWX

[hana-no-seiiki]

busy working on a few illusts…

mr 2ft is absolutely freezing his ass off because he stole manager’s glasses

(they fucked up his wardrobe)

[ most recent wip ]

[ yandere rockstar (feroze) x reader x yandere idol (eve) fic ]

[eetherealgoddess]

Hey, I just had a really good idea for u to write. A yandere bonten and a singer/ famous reader. I really love your writing style, and I get sooo excited when I see u post something 🫶🤭

Thank youu!! I get excited for good requests :)

ꨄMelodic Ruinꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Famous Singer Au

❦You’re an artist who caught Bonten’s attention❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey but you’ll see what I mean)

❣︎I know in real life the manager doesn’t “own” the singer, but in this story, the reader will have signed all of their artistic rights to the manager so that the plot will make sense❣︎

Not fully proofread

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Melodic Ruin

Claps could be heard echoing throughout the concert hall as you stood on the surface with a sweet smile, thanking the audience before walking off the stage, the lights shutting off behind you as the crowd began to make their leave. The long dress you wore hugging your figure as the train of the fabric followed behind. You had just completed the last performance for your concert, your hands rubbing along your sides as you released a breath of relief. Of course you don’t get as much anxiety as you did when you first started singing in front of thousands of people, you just really cared about your craft. A perfectionist you could say. This particular performance was important as well considering the extra onlookers your manager warned you about, you having noticed a few of the “important” people in the VIP seats when you were on the stage.

You are ranked as a famous singer in your country, not having been worldwide just yet besides the few videos of you singing at home or in the studio that went viral, as well as your first album that was released recently. You’re a new industry baby, but you’re still trying to keep your own personality in your work without getting controlled by any record deal which is why you’re an independent artist. You take pride in your art, creative by heart and ambitious by nature. It took you quite a few years of releasing singles and singing social media videos to finally get noticed for your talent. You’re proud of yourself which is something that doesn’t happen often enough. You’re not exactly at the top yet but you’re not mad with where you’re at.

“Good job, Y/n! You’ve caught quite the attention!” Your manager greets you just as you made it backstage, offering you the business card in her hand. You look down and take the paper on your own, eyeing the print. Your eyes widened.

“I got invited to perform in JAPAN?!” You exclaim. Never have you ever gotten an opportunity to go out of the country, only touring around local concerts although still popular by demand.

“A private, high classed lounge owned by club owners Haitani Ran and Haitani Rin! Isn’t this great news?” She beams as she holds her hands up. You look at her with your eyes glistening, a wide smile on your face as you feel so grateful for the opportunity. And to be personally invited to perform at this specific lounge is a huge deal for you. You’ll have more of a chance at getting acquainted with bigger connections. It’s intimidating, yet you couldn’t help the excitement that your hard work is finally paying off even bigger than it has.

“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow so get your bags packed because it’s gonna be a long trip!” Your manager says before giving your arms a tight squeeze. “You deserve this, Y/n. Bask in it now because before you know it, you’ll be attracting even bigger opportunities.” She walks off, leaving you with the business card as you read the print once more.

You immediately change before packing your bags when you make it home, excitement making it hard to fall asleep although eager for the next day to come. It was early in the morning when you and your manager met at the airport holding your private jet. Checking your consistent notifications as well as scrolling through social media. Sitting on the plane was full of thought while you listened to the music blasting from your headphones, thinking about the venue you’d be performing at. How intimate it’ll be to sing amongst all of those people who will be judging you, observing your creativity to see if it’s worth the profit.

An empty estate was offered to you and your manager, coming upon a penthouse once your driver dropped you off. Your manager basked in the luxury as she unpacked, talking your ear off as if she’s more excited than you. You chuckle at the thought before heading to your own bedroom to unpack, an eyebrow raising at the name tagged on the door. When you opened the door, you were met with a modernized luxury bedroom. The body sized window gives you a beautiful view of the city from above. You stood there a moment before turning around to get your outfit ready for the night, already having notified your manager to not call the stylist since you already had an idea of what you were going to wear.

When evening finally struck you had just climbed into the vehicle, your driver helping you in before shutting the door behind you, along with your two security guards who traveled with you. Your manager sat in the passenger seat, the black suv moving along as you eye through the tinted window. Your nerves are struck, having never performed in a country other than your own. Especially with the presence of numerous important individuals, you couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes.

When you arrived, you were helped out of the car, different locals being held back by guards already posted for the lounge, keeping the crowd behind the ropes as you walked along the red carpet. You waved and smiled as people screamed your name and song lyrics, cameras flashing as well as paparazzi ready for the next best shot. Finally making it inside, you were greeted with a beautiful melody, red covering the walls with a marble floor. Gold decor plastered along as well as the large chandelier hanging from the middle of the room.

A red rug sat in the middle of the floor along with cushioned chairs and glass tables, a bar across from the stage as well as many people conversing with champagne and other alcoholic beverages. A woman holds a microphone on the stage, entertaining the audience with beautiful harmony. Everyone wears all black formal attire, causing you to look down at your shimmery, golden gown with a grimace. You turn to your manager as you both walk down the hall in the opposite direction, heading for the dressing room.

“I thought I was supposed to wear gold.” You say softly. She smirks.

“You are. Don’t forget, Y/n. This is your special night.”

My special night, right.

You take a deep breath before one of your security guards opens the dressing room.

Your eyes perk at the man standing inside. He turns his head back before walking towards you with a smile. You eye his purple orbs before examining the suit accenting his broad figure. His neck tattoo displays a symbol you’ve never seen before, though it fit him well. Fingers run through his short, dyed hair as he gets closer.

“Welcome, Y/n. Haitani, Ran.” He states, holding a hand out. You smile politely, ignoring your anxiety as you shake his hand. You couldn’t help but notice how soft his skin felt against yours.

“Hello, Mr. Haitani. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” You beam, subconsciously rubbing your palms against the fabric of your dress, refraining from picking at the dress.

“Please, call me Ran. The pleasure is all mine. We are grateful to have you here.” He says, before connecting his lips with the back of your hand, gaze still holding yours. You felt your face warm, having never been handled so gently by a man considering the type of males that live in your hometown. Your manager walks up, both of them greeting each other, though her body is slightly tense when she gives him a tight smile. You fail to notice the display of tension, too focused on the tingling sensation lingering from the contact with your hand.

“I see that gold fits you very well. Best choice I’ve ever made.” He chuckled. So he recommended it to your manager?

That brings you comfort knowing you hadn’t made a mistake, after all it never felt good to be the odd one out because of misinformation.

“Indeed it is. Y/n, let’s get you ready to perform!” Your manager eased her arm around your shoulder before pulling you off, Ran waving bye as he exited the room while you shifted your gaze at her with confusion.

“What was that about?” You question her as she fixes her own makeup in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way you just interr…”

“Y/n.” She breathes out. “Let’s focus on your music, yeah?” She says as she touches up your face. You nod your head right before an employee comes in to queue you. You exhale before heading down the hall behind the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to Ms. Y/n!”

Straightening your back, you stepped onto the stage, revealing yourself to the audience who claps and cheers, giving you the welcome you deserve. You gaze at the beautiful view of the crowd, noticing a familiar suit sitting with eight other interesting looking men. You greet the crowd right before the music begins, beginning your performance as everyone quiets down, along with the light over the audience dimming.

During your performance, you allow yourself to get lost in the music. Closing your eyes as your hand moves along, flowing with the melody as your beautiful voice harmonizes well with the piano. Your head tilts as you release a stronger note that comes from the base of your voice, tightening your grip on the microphone as you walk along the stage. The slit of your gown opens slightly, exposing your thigh as you move across the stage. Your gaze shifts to different sides of the lounge, making eye contact with a few of the audience members as some of them sway their upper bodies with your song.

The frequency of your voice brings a sense of calmness to the crowd, some with their palm holding their cheek up as they wear a smile, pleasantly losing themselves with you as they seem to be in a trance that locks them in to only you. Some lean into your presence as they gaze at your figure, nodding their heads occasionally to the flow as well as admiring your overall appearance.

Your manager stands behind the stage, out of the sight of everyone as she chews her nails, shifting her gaze to the eight males that sit upstairs with the best view of the stage. Her eyebrows furrow while her arms tremble slightly, unable to focus on anything else but the intimidating gazes stuck on you. The platform of her shoe taps against the ground as she exhales.

The music goes out just as your voice lingers the last note, eyes fluttering back open as a grin grows on your expression, all the while one of your arms lie out to the side. You set the microphone back on the stand after you bow with a “thank you,” as everyone claps. You accidentally catch Ran’s gaze as well as the other men just as you wave ‘goodbye’ to the audience. You meet your manager behind the stage as she gives you a smile and pulls you into a hug.

“Great job, Y/n! Now let’s celebrate.”

The night was spent drinking as well as having conversations with various people, discussing their businesses and hobbies as well as asking you numerous facts about yourself. Your manager seemed to have disappeared a while ago, leaving you to sit by yourself on a lounge chair, the dress hugging your legs as if you were a mermaid. You eye your phone’s screen while taking a sip of your champagne, eyeing the recent post of your own performance until the shadow of a person steals your attention.

“We need to go, now!” Your manager says before snatching your wrist, pulling you along as drops of liquid splash out of the glass.

“M/n? What the hell?” You gasp as you’re caught off guard, almost tripping over your own dress while she forces you to rush to the dressing room.

You yank your arm out of her grip before glaring at her.

“M/n! What is going on? Why have you been so on edge tonight?” She quickly gathers all of your stuff as you stare at her with disbelief. She pauses, failing to look at you.

“L-look. I’ll explain everything later. We just need to get out of Japan right now.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we were staying for a few days.” Your tone shifted to concern. “What’s wrong, M/n? Did something happen?” She drops the makeup supplies before turning to you and gripping your arms.

“I told you, Y/n! I will explain everything later, but right now we don’t have much time! We need to leave, now!” You gaze at her with shock along with fear as you become nervous by her own look of terror. Sweat sliding along the lining of her forehead along with her eyeliner slightly smeared with red eyes.

What the fuck is going on?

“Oh? What’s the rush? The party was just getting started.” A smooth voice says with amusement behind you. You watch as your manager’s eyes widened before you turned to meet your gaze with three men. Your eyes met a familiar purple though the rest of the features were slightly different, the purple mullet being the most prominent as well as the matching tattoo you saw on the male earlier. You guessed this man to be the other owner of the club, Haitani Rin.

Standing to his right is a man with golden eyes, blonde strands falling over his face along with his black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. His expression was light, holding a smile that you could mistake for politeness. He placed his hands in his pockets after shutting the door behind them. To the Haitani’s left is a man with narrowed blue eyes that seem to pierce into your soul, his pink mullet shaped perfectly around his beautiful features. Your gaze shifts to the scars placed at the corners of his mouth, furrowing your brows before you take in the situation at hand.

“What’s going on, M/n?” You side eye her as you watch her eyes widen. Her lips slightly apart as she tries to think of something to say.

“That was a beautiful performance, Y/n. Fitting for such a gorgeous woman.” The blonde says as he approaches, holding a hand out. The tiger in black ink on his neck added to the intimidating aura that contrasts with the expression on his face. He mimics Ran, bringing your limp hand to his lips while gazing into your eyes. A look of such intensity that you had to look away.

“Thank you…” You pause in expectance.

“Kazutora.” You nod with a polite smile before shifting your gaze to the others.

The tension in the room has yet to disappear. You couldn’t really focus on anything else but how scared your manager looks right now.

“M/n. It’d be in your best interest to follow us. The King wants to speak to you.” The pink haired one says, a look of satisfaction crossed his face when he states ‘the King,’ which causes you a little confusion by the title.

Kazutora takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you along as you look behind to glance at your manager with a questioning look. You all walk out of the dressing room and through the hall. The only sounds being your heels clicking and their speech, nothing you could decipher because of the differing language.

“Surprised she’d be Mikey’s type.” Rin says to the other men.

“No kidding. Who knew a famous babe from Y/c would catch his eye?” Kazutora says while glancing at you.

“There’s a lot you two don’t know about Mikey.” The pink haired man replies.

“Hm, I guess you’re right Sanzu. Wonder how long it’ll take before blood sheds tonight.” Kazutora rubs his chin.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Sanzu smirks.

You turn back to glance at your manager who looks as though the color on her face has disappeared.

I hope I find out what’s going on with her.

You all arrive upstairs, walking down a hall before being met with an office. When you walked in, you noticed the other men who sat on the balcony with Ran, standing around the desk facing the entrance. Ran also in position though sitting in a chair next to the desk in the spacious room. A man with pale hair sits behind the desk with a sweater hanging off of his shoulders, dark eyes gazing into yours as Kazutora removes his arm and leads you to your seat. Your manager sits beside you on another chair, along with Rin standing by her side and Kazutora standing by yours, everyone facing the platinum haired male. Sanzu takes position beside the short man, standing by his chair with his hand holding the other.

You felt on edge, seven pairs of eyes focused on you, all the while silence filled the room. You turn in your seat to look at the blocked entrance, some other broad men blocking the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as the room seemed to get colder, turning back in your seat as you faced the mystery man.

“Speak.” His narrowed eyes meet your manager’s.

She hesitates as you watch her shift uncomfortably in her seat. Her chest rises as she takes a shaky breath in before exhaling.

“U-um, I…” She stammers, fingers trembling against the arm of the chair. You stay quiet, concerned with her behavior as your own body glistens with sweat from stress. You shift in your seat, straightening your back as you cross your ankles, your legs fidgeting as you feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“You tried to leave? And so soon?” He questions, his expression stoic as his eyes bore into your manager’s. Her hands move to her lap as her foot taps against the ground.

“U-uh, no. No I didn’t.” She breathes out.

“I think you did. Didn’t she?” They all responded with “Yes Boss.” Before silence falls once more.

“Why?” M/n’s mouth shuts as she tries to think of something. You could only guess that she was nervous because of whatever business title the men hold so you decide to speak up for her.

“We’re grateful for the opportunity, really. It’s just been a long night.” You explain, only causing some of the men to chuckle at the naivety. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation. “Okay, what the hell is really going on?”

M/n looks at you with wide eyes before holding her hands up and shaking her head.

“Y-Y/n, I’ll explain later, just give me some ti…”

“No, tell me right now why everyone is acting so weird. Stop wasting time.” You growl, sick of the antics and the vague conversations.

The man looks at you for a moment before nodding to Rin. To your surprise he pulls out a gun just as M/n hops out of her seat causing the chair to fall backwards. She runs to the entrance only for him to hold the weapon up, shooting the gun. The bullet penetrates her back, causing her to fall over, a shriek leaving her lips as the throbbing pain fills her senses. You jump out of your seat in shock, eyes staring at the blood staining her attire while she lays her head on the floor.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, heading to the bleeding girl only to get pulled against a chest, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your feet off the ground.

“You said to stop wasting time!” Kazutora laughs as the rest look on in amusement to the woman losing consciousness.

“Y/n! I-I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I had no choice! I had no choice!” She weeps, hand smacking against the floor as she covers her head with her arm. “I’m so sorry.” She whimpers.

“What are you talking…! Let me fucking go! She needs to go to the hospital!” You yell, beating Kazutora’s arms as you try to pry them off, kicking your feet.

Sanzu walks to the woman lying on the ground. Setting a foot to the wound before pressing down, causing a strangled gasp to come out of her mouth. You struggle harder as you watch him point a gun to her head from above.

“Explain yourself.” He growls, smiling wide with crazed eyes.

“I-I sold you! I s-sold… you! It’s… *gasp* all in their…*pant* hands!” She weeps, “I h-ha… *grunt* had no choice!” Her own nails pierce her palms as she turns her hands to fists, squeezing in pain as he continues to press his weight down.

You could only stare in silence as you paused your struggling.

“T-they’re a… a gang! A *pant* criminal….organization! Th-they…*grunt* threaten…!” She screams out in agony once Sanzu pulls his leg up and slams his foot down on her wound. You wince as you begin to struggle again.

“Let her go!” You were angry with her, yes. However, if the truth is that they threatened her, you couldn’t help but empathize despite your lingering resentment. Your only focus was to get both of you out of here alive. You wondered where your guards were.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanzu smiles before moving his foot off of her and cocking the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet blasts half of her skull open. The sickening sound of blood splattering the floor causes you to gasp before you yell out, tears falling out of your eyes at the traumatic display.

“Hey, save those vocals for the bedroom, yeah?” Ran jokes before lighting a cigarette, some of the other men chuckling at his response.

“Let me go! Let me go, goddamnit!” You growl angrily, crying as Kazutora forces you to sit down.

He cocks his gun, bringing the barrel to your head while putting a finger over his lips. You eye him with a look of horror.

“Shh.” He starts. “Boss isn’t done talking.”

You pant as you hold your chest, staring back at their ‘boss’ who eyes you quietly. The room calms down once more as everyone takes their original positions, a gun still pressed to your head. He slides a form over for you to read. You lean in your seat and look over the sheet that confirmed your manager’s signature, signing you over to Bonten, a criminal organization residing in Japan.

“The contract doesn’t lie. During this term and all others, you are now the property of Bonten.”

You shook your head while whispering, “No.”

“I own you, Y/n. You can either fall in line willingly or by force. I don’t care. You’re mine.” He says before standing from his seat.

“Mikey.” He says to you before shifting his attention to the others. “Take her to Bonten’s headquarters.”

Kazutora hides his gun and grabs your arm as you struggle against his hold. Just as Mikey and Sanzu, along with some of the other men, head to the doorway, he says, “Knock her out if you have to.”

A breathy laugh is released from Kazutora before he pulls back a fist.

“Sorry, doll.”

Darkness immediately engulfs your vision.

[coffee-and-tea-time]

Hey, I know the vote isn't done yet but I was wondering what our first interactions would be like with them all?

We can certainly arrange that!! Ask related to this post!

*Internally kicking his feet like a little girl seeing so many interactions with our post* ( • ᴗ • )

although maybe it’s a little short since we would rather leave more context for the actual posts - Tea

I read wrong a comment and thought they were requesting a shop owner when in truth they were talking about the seller, now the shop has an extra character *look into the abyss in poor reading comprehension*

In my defense, google said 'shopkeeper' was an equivalent to shop owner *disappointed of herself in non-native english speaker* but oh well, the more the merrier (ʃƪ＾3＾）～♡- coffee

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ ↔ ♪⁽⁽٩( ᐖ )۶⁾⁾ ₍₍٩( ᐛ )۶₎₎♪ ⬅ representation of the twins receiving incentives to post

Word count: 2k

tw: yandere behavior, nonhuman yanderes, human yanderes, delusional, RIP self-preservation, written in you/yours, willing reader

-`♡´- Dizie -`♡´-

You walk into your house, still submerged in your own thoughts as you walk through the door.

"Uh, maybe I should arrange something to welcome Dizie when he arrives? I hope I don't come off as awkward..."

But... Why is your place so dark?

 You hear the door being slammed shut and as you attempt to turn towards it, a hand snakes over your mouth with a delicate yet firm touch as another coils around your waist from behind. 

"You were worried about my first impression of you? That's… really cute"

The voice of a man purrs near your ear and then you feel his face gently nuzzling with the top of your head like an affectionate cat, a rather deadly one.

"I took the liberty of checking around your home, you know, to make sure everything is like it's supposed to be, to make sure nobody else is lurking around… I'm so glad that isn't the case, you're all mine to cherish… only mine"

You feel his nuzzling being replaced by a soft kiss on the top of your head, as the slender hand covering your mouth moves to gently hold your face while his thumb gently rubs your cheek. 

[Clarification: Dizie is NOT stuck in his past or still in love with the last “darling” he was bought by. He doesn't see the reader as a replacement of any sort. We want to get that out of the way from the get go, he's just traumatized (as he probably should be ngl) - the twins]

-`♡´- Gabriel -`♡´-

Tossing your keys onto your couch cushion you let out a soft sigh, the walk back home was rather awkward, well, as awkward as can be with a man following behind like a lost puppy, his eyes practically piercing the back of your head. You wondered why he kept walking behind you but brushed the thought out quickly as you felt him let out a veery faint sigh of awe while glancing around your home.

“it smells just like you-”

The man whispered to himself, his words quiet yet the silence of you both being alone allowed you to hear him very clearly. flattering, but also a little unnerving. 

How did he manage to smell you when he was walking like a meter away from you?

His hands fidgeted as you glanced back at him, his eyes landing on your form still basking in the sight like you were some sort of divine entity before him.

 “This must be Gabriel then” 

you thought, connecting your choice with the man that just randomly started following you which you didn't have the heart to scare away.

 When the seller said he was a worshiper… he wasn't exaggerating.

Shakily, he reaches for one of your hands, clasping it tenderly with both his hands, completely engulfing yours with the warmth of his nervous fidgeting. His cheeks blaze red by the mere idea of touching your skin.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand, taking a shaky breath, then looking up to meet your gaze with pure adoration.

“I'm so incredibly thankful to be in your presence, darling. I'm so glad you chose me…”

(A person called him and Grier 'pathetic little mew mews' and now that lives rent free on my head; if you read this, I love your energy - coffee)

-`♡´- Oliver -`♡´-

This man is eager, that's for sure. There's no denying it as he practically drags you with him to his bakery as soon as your finger grazed his name on that paper.

You couldn't say a thing though, that wide smile on his face was just as sweet as the scent that wafted through the air as you entered the shop with the jingle of the welcome bell.

You were ordered to sit back and enjoy a cup of coffee with some butter cookies for the wait. He wanted to make something special, he said, quickly diving into the kitchen without saying another word.

You took a small bite of the cookie thinking perhaps there was something in it, but if you were his darling now then it shouldn't be anything harmful, should it? The cookie was… just any normal cookie, it was delicious even, buttery and crumbly, mixing perfectly with the rich flavor of the coffee. 

Your mind drifted to the man’s appearance as he gave you constant glances, peeking from the kitchen a little too often, it was adorable in a way, like he was checking if you were still there. There was no need to check though, he had locked the entrance as soon as you walked in and you had totally noticed. You weren't going anywhere. 

A few minutes later he peeked again, though this time with a tray in his hands, he approached and placed it in front of you, a delicious slice of cheesecake greeting you. He smiled proudly as he saw your mouth water and as you eyes scanned the delicious treat you couldn't help but notice the fresh cut on his finger already bandaged up yet still bleeding a bit through the gauze… how deep was the cut? The blood was so red it didn't look like a superficial wound.

“I'm just a bit nervous, Dear, i wanted to cut it perfectly for you… my hand must have slipped”

He reassured you, dismissing the severity of it but quickly hiding the cut from you. His sheepish smile though made you forget about it for a hot minute- how was this bulky man such a sweetheart? 

Your fork soon dug into the creamy goodness of the cheesecake, the raspberry sauce that sat on top dripping a bit, its rich red color almost resembling that of his blood. What a passionate baker…

(...I love him, okay? -Tea)

-`♡´- singer  -`♡´-

The door of the car is opened before you get the chance to even lift a finger and you are greeted by the angelic face of a man, worthy of praise and worship, smiling down at you and offering his hand as to help you get out of the car

"Hi~, welcome welcome, how are you feeling on such a joyful day as today? I hope that you are as thrilled as I am"

He says with a charming smile, holding your hand delicately for you to exit the car then  guides you into his house, his eyes ogling you like a three course meal.

"Would you like something to drink? A water perhaps? I don't really have much sugary drinks since i take care of my vocal cords, but if that's what you'd like then I'll absolutely find a way to get it for you"

"Oh, I'm really fine, don't wor-"

His step falters before stopping dead in his tracks, his smile softening in… awe? He shuffles closer as your voice trails off by the sudden action.

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry to interrupt your words, I just couldn't help but get closer… you speak so softly, I'd wish to hear you more clearly"

He puts his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, though it quickly moves up to your neck, his thumb caressing your throat.

"You shouldn't overthink too much, your duty here is being happy with me, and when I'm not around, feel free to enjoy your free time as you wish; my only condition here is you take care of yourself and… to not look at anyone else in the eye for too long… but well, you should’ve already expected that, you signed for it, honey"

-`♡´- Myotis -`♡´-

You feel your heart on your throat as the butler opens the door for you, as you make your way inside, you feel like you walked straight into a historical movie of some sort, if the outside looked already out of a gothic fairytale, you can't find the words to describe how impressive the inside is.

"I'm glad you seem to like the place, Amore, that makes things easier for both of us. I hope you can forgive my eagerness to meet you"

You can't help but get surprised when you notice him right beside you, speaking to you dearly as he grabs your hand as if it was made of glass to softly kiss the back before giving you a smile.

"Fear not, you can always indulge yourself and wander around to enjoy the mansion, but I rather that the precious focus of your gaze be on me, I’d be delighted to spend as much time with you as possible, don't you think so?" 

-`♡´- Lior -`♡´

You enter your home excited, wondering if you should get some fairy lights and stuff for the yandere you chose when a rustling in the distance disturbs your thoughts, grounding you back to reality.

You make your way in the direction of the noise and find yourself standing in front of your bedroom window where the poor moth boy flutters his wings trying to squeeze past the small gap, half of his body still hanging outside the window. This must be Lior.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I just thought I would be able to fit in the open gap"

You truly can't help but giggle at the situation, okay, he is really cute for a yandere, the seller sure speaks the truth.

He grumbles uncomfortably, wiggling his way inside your home. His satchel almost falling out the window, but he manages to grab it mid air. Fast reflexes, that's a plus.

"I brought a present with me!"

He sighed out in relief while holding his satchel. With some effort due to his limited movement, he is quick to lift his bag and rummage through it, proudly lifting in the air a big cinnamon scented candle.

“Some light for my daylight! I-I thought you'd like it, though I'm not allowed to use candles… I always burn myself with the wax”

(he's my baby and i love him, thank you very much. -tea)

-`♡´- Tarak -`♡´

"Huh, what a gorgeous being…for a human… I will accept your proposal"

The dragon says in a low husky voice, gazing at you with a smirk, his hand gently lifting your chin so that your eyes meet his.

"You were the one that got chosen, not the other way around"

The seller quickly remarks, the humanoid dragon clicking his tongue in response.

“Same difference... the order of the factors does not alter the product after all, we are united either way”

Even if the humanoid acts roughly with the seller, Tarak gently puts your hand on his arm and holds it there as he walks outside of the store with you. What a gentleman.

"You are going to love the forest, of course, my cave is most enchanting, but I did in fact go out of my way and make a cabin next to it, everything is already taken cared of, I know not every species has the resilience to prosper in my environment, but, well, your ancestors used to live in caves... so maybe you can manage"

“Is my home not an option from the beginning?”

You say a little nervous, not sure if you can actually survive in a forest without being eaten alive by the wildlife, although you must admit that is kind of a silly thought if you think of the power of a dragon like him.

He looked like he was about to protest your request, but just your scent in the air was all he needed to sense your feelings and give you a look as he relaxed his shoulder in defeat.

"... alright, I'll indulge you, we have a lot of time in our hands to adjust to the changes around us anyways, I'll stay at your home until you are comfortable enough to come to mine, I will make sure to adorn it in any way you please for when that time comes"

He gently messes with your hair as a way to reassure you before he resumes walking, following you to your home.

-`♡´- Grier -`♡´ 

The seller goes down the wooden ladder after taking the tape off the camera lense and signs for you to come closer to it.

"The cameras here don't have sound but showing you to him should be enough of a clue all by itself"

You freeze as the security camera focuses on you, standing there, you wave awkwardly and the camera starts moving side to side abruptly before freezing,  like the person behind it moved away from it.

"Well, either he fainted or he is coming right away!"

The seller says in a cheerful voice as he goes to cover the camera lense again with a strip of tape. A couple of minutes pass before you hear the screeching stop of a car parking in front of the shop hurriedly, soon followed by a panting man who barges inside like his life depended on it.

“I’m here! I'm here!!” 

He says almost tripping on his own feet as he shoves in your face a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Oh, those are my favorites! Thank you"

"I-I know, don't worry, I made sure to do a quick background check on your medical history so I don't trigger any allergies, I promise I will gather more information tonight! Don't worry"

-`♡´- The seller -`♡´

"I already told you, I'm not a yandere"

"How did you know I don't go out?"

"You're practically chronically online! It's just a lucky guess"

"My screen time is something even weirder for you to know!"

"..."

"..."

"... don't tell management"

[Clarification: yes, the seller’s is shorter, that's because as far as we can tell, he's most likely to win first place in the survey so we are saving up most of his character and interactions for his main post (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ - the twins] 

-`♡´- …owner? -`♡´

…???

"Oh, that's an interesting turn of events, so many options yet the button you press is not even part of the survey..? How experimental”

The owner let out a rich laugh as he spoke his usual nonsense to catch your attention through the speakers of the shop.

"Ah yes, 'nonsense'. What a disappointing excuse.."

The owner argued with himself under his breath before he sights.

"Want something to drink?"

*Ejem* little clarification (it's the third one now in this post, get a grip. - tea to himself), characters that aren't in this survey have already been requested in asks or comments or, well, won the first survey. we haven't forgotten about them, we are already working on their posts 💚 - tea

Don't forget! If you like something specific, you can ask freely! As I said before, we love interactions! (Attentions seekers? More like validation seekers lol) - coffee

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

Divider by tea ✌️ (i know I'm amazing/j)

[crimson-kisses]

彼岸花

Characters/fandoms/pairings: Yandere! Honda Kiku || Japan [Hetalia] x F! Reader.

Warning: This story will contain explicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes mentions of graphic violence and implied stalking]

Author's note: this idea for a short drabble had been on my mind for days after seeing this yandere japan fanart by @purplemistbutterfly and I just had to write it. Wc- 4, 557.

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The glow of neon lights wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you lounged on a plush sofa, the strains of your own recordings playing softly in the background. Each note echoed through the modest bar, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly. The chandelier flickered, casting delicate colors across the room, and for a moment, you felt suspended in a haze, as if the world around you had faded away.

In the background, the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. A waitress, young and diligent, bustled about, balancing trays of drinks with practiced grace, exchanging light banter with the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails. Their laughter mingled with the music, a gentle reminder of the life that pulsed through the club as it prepared for the evening rush.

With a soft sigh, you swung your legs off the sofa, the hem of your dress swirling around you for an instant. The sharp click of your heels against the floor grounded you, pulling you back into the moment.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around your fingers, a pang of longing washing over you. How you wished you could sing forever—such a melodramatic thought, you mused.

Just then, a waitress removed the ashtray from the coffee table, her movements graceful. She caught your eye and offered a warm smile, one that reflected the admiration so many in this lively city had for you. Young yet industrious, she, like others, found joy in your performances, and their support felt like a quiet reminder of your modest fame.

It was the perfect balance—enough recognition to feel appreciated, yet not so much that it became overwhelming. You cherished this intimate space, where your talent was seen and valued, untainted by the harsh demands of larger stages.

With a roll of your shoulders, you decided to freshen up. You applied a light layer of makeup, your dress—a flowing creation with delicate crow motifs—draped around your legs. The fabric shifted with each subtle movement, catching the light in a way that made the motifs seem alive.

You slipped on your heels and styled your hair with careful hands, confident in your skill, the way you always did before a performance. After sending away the helpful crew who insisted on doing it for you, you prepared to step into the night, ready to captivate once more.

The stage shimmered like a midnight sky, lit with soft, silvery lights that twinkled like distant stars. You felt like a solitary bird, singing a lullaby that might go unheard by the vastness of the world, yet here, every note held significance. The melody flowed from your lips, soft and effortless, as your body swayed gently to the rhythm.

The rest of the world faded away, leaving just you, the music, and the connection with those who listened. It was ironic, really—this was when most eyes were on you, and yet you felt as though you were suspended in a private world of your own making.

The audience was a mix of familiar faces and newcomers, all drawn in by the magic you created on stage. Among them were well-dressed gentlemen, some leaning back with arms crossed, others inching forward, their eyes following your every move with intrigued intensity. Nearby, women whispered excitedly, their giggles escaping as they listened. Business elites, seeking respite from the fast-paced world outside, sat quietly, their faces softening as they allowed themselves to relax, appreciating the intimacy of this setting over the grandeur of larger performances.

At other tables, university students exchanged glances between sips of their drinks, entranced by your voice, some even whispering your name as though they’d stumbled upon a secret treasure. Local workers, still in their uniforms, unwound from their long shifts, leaning back in their chairs with drinks in hand, their faces softened with quiet smiles as your melody soothed their weary souls.

In the background, the diligent staff moved seamlessly through the space, balancing trays of drinks, refilling glasses, and clearing tables. The bartender, a seasoned expert with quick hands, mixed cocktails with the precision of an artist, casting the occasional glance toward the stage, a faint smile always tugging at his lips. The waitstaff worked with a rhythm of their own, exchanging light banter with regulars and newcomers alike.

They were your quiet champions, always turning down the big offers from record companies that sought to pull you into the commercialized world of fame. They knew, as you did, that this setting was where you truly wished to be.

Your performance was more than just a routine; it was an extension of yourself, a moment of vulnerability wrapped in music. The spotlight gently framed your figure, casting a soft glow that danced with the notes as they escaped your lips. Your hands lifted, almost as if guiding the melody itself, and for those moments on stage, nothing else mattered.

The sway of your dress, adorned with delicate crow motifs, moved like shadows across the floor, adding an air of mystery to your presence.

And though you weren’t chasing the grandeur of fame, there was a certain power in these performances. The connection you felt with the audience—each gaze, each whisper of your name—made you feel seen in ways that the glare of the public eye never could.

You weren’t a star striving to shine in the vastness of the sky; you were the moon casting light over an enchanted crowd, and in this bar, in this moment, that was enough.

What you didn’t notice was the quiet presence lingering at the edge of the room, like a shadow among the warm glow of lights. Hidden in the dim corners, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes watched you—deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of still waters reflecting a moonlit sky.

His gaze followed your every movement, simmering with an adoration that burned slowly, as insidious as poison, blending seamlessly with the night. And just before you left the stage, he muttered softly to himself, barely audible over the music,

“カラスは…これから来るものの前兆だ。”

His lips curled into a subtle, unsettling smile, as though the omen had already taken root.

“ダーリン。”

════════════════════════════

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Feliciano had eagerly dragged Kiku out of the house, his voice embarrassingly loud in front of everyone. With excitement gleaming in his eyes, he insisted that Kiku join him at a nearby bar, one he claimed had a cozy atmosphere. 

He went on about the drinks, the people, and especially the woman there whose voice he described as angelic, able to make anyone forget their troubles. Kiku raised an eyebrow—he knew Feliciano, and any woman could be deemed an angel in his eyes, so he wasn’t sure whether anyone could truly live up to that praise.

Despite his reluctance, Kiku followed, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged out like this, especially for something so undignified. He could already imagine the kind of chaos Feliciano would create in such a quiet setting.

As they entered the bar, Kiku sighed. The warm lighting and low hum of conversation created a peaceful atmosphere, but he wasn’t impressed. His eyes scanned the room, seeking something of interest to distract himself. That’s when he spotted Ludwig across the room.

Ludwig was seated at a table, his gaze fixed intently on a brunette in a maid outfit who was laughing with a group of friends. Kiku noted how serious Ludwig appeared, his focus unwavering as he studied her every move with an almost unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Ludwig gave him a brief nod, which Kiku returned with a slight bow. It was typical of Ludwig to maintain such seriousness, even in a casual setting.

Next to Ludwig sat Francis, effortlessly charming a group of businesswomen with his smooth foreign accent. His laughter filled the air easily, a stark contrast to Ludwig’s quiet intensity. Kiku watched the scene with mild amusement. It was familiar, but somehow still entertaining to see Francis working his charm.

Feliciano, oblivious to the dynamics of the group, continued to rave about the bar’s ambiance. Kiku couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh. Maybe there was something to enjoy in this unexpected gathering of familiar faces, but he wasn’t convinced.

Then the music began.

A soft, haunting melody slowly rose, weaving through the air like a gentle current, filling the space around them. Kiku, sinking into his seat in one of the private booths, instinctively turned his focus toward the sound. The bar was cozy, the conversation still flowing around him, but it was the music that truly drew him in.

He glanced toward Ludwig again, who seemed to have relaxed a little, a few drinks in, with the brunette now sitting on his lap. Despite the change in posture, the intensity in Ludwig’s gaze remained. Kiku shifted his focus back to the music, feeling the soft notes caress the air. Despite their slow pace, they held power, quieting the noise in his mind.

The voice that accompanied the melody was captivating—rich, smooth, hypnotic. It settled into Kiku’s chest, making his thoughts slow and his senses sharpen. The world around him dimmed as he focused only on the sound, letting the voice wrap around him like a spell. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, lost to the music.

As the notes filled him, something shifted inside, like a spark igniting in the stillness of his chest. An unfamiliar hunger stirred—dangerous, intoxicating. The voice, the melody—it awoke something deep within him, something he hadn’t been prepared to feel.

Kiku found himself utterly fixated. His usual caution and restraint were slipping away as the voice continued to draw him in. He couldn’t tear his attention away, lost in the depth of it, as if everything else faded into the background.

From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He watched you from afar, noting the softness in your manner, the strength in your resolve. You were kind, diligent, and full of quiet grace, drawing him in further with each passing day.

Kiku, always careful, had never allowed himself to indulge in such obsession, but now, something darker began to take hold. He hired someone to hack into your devices, learning your secrets, uncovering the hidden corners of your life. Each discovery only deepened his infatuation.

You lived simply, but there was an undeniable elegance in everything you did. Each morning, you made matcha tea, savoring it slowly as you tended to your modest garden. Cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, chrysanthemums bloomed in vibrant bursts, and bonsai trees stood carefully pruned, each one a testament to your patience.

You had a quiet generosity too—leaving bowls of rice or fish out for the stray cats that wandered into your yard, a small act of kindness that you believed brought good fortune. He watched, fascinated by the peace you found in these little rituals.

In the afternoons, you volunteered at the local community center, helping the elderly with their daily tasks. You prepared sweet treats like mochi and dorayaki, listening to their stories, sharing in their wisdom. You were always engaged, always giving, connecting deeply with the community around you.

And when the seasonal festivals came around, you danced with your neighbors, laughed with friends, and participated in the celebrations that honored yourself. The kindness you spread was subtle but powerful, a thread that tied you to the people around you. To him.

Kiku couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop learning more about you. You were everywhere he looked—your life, your kindness, your quiet grace—it all consumed him, filling the space in his mind, until it became impossible to ignore.

════════════════════════════

"生一緒にいたい"

He repeated it over and over, the words slipping past his lips like a prayer, each time more fervently, each time more desperate. The phrase carved itself into his soul, filling the hollow space within him.

"私のもの…"

His eyes never strayed from you, not once. Always from the shadows, always watching. You didn’t notice him—never did. But he noticed everything. Every little movement you made. Every soft laugh that danced in the air. Each smile was like a dagger of desire. You were his. Only his.

"全てが私のものになる…"

He knew everything about you. The way your hair curled just right, the way your fingers brushed your lips in that nervous habit. The smallest details—details only he could see. He whispered your name to himself, savoring it, imagining the life you would share together, locked away from the world. Just the two of you.

"絶対に、君を失わない…"

Kiku's gaze was unwavering. You were everywhere. In the streets you walked, in the quiet little coffee shop you adored, in the park where you sat with that innocent, too-perfect smile. Everything was etched in his memory. Every single place, every single moment. He would wait. He would wait until you understood—until you realized that the only place you could ever belong was with him. Alone. Together.

“永遠に”

He loved you. More than love—it had become an obsession. A consuming, all-encompassing thing. Each little piece of your life, each small revelation only fanned the flames. How could someone so perfect exist? So effortlessly beautiful, so kind? You were everything he had longed for, everything he needed, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. His thoughts of you filled his every moment, his longing growing, desperate, never-ending.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He couldn’t lose you. No. He wouldn’t lose you. Yes. He shouldn’t lose you. You were one of a kind.

Each day passed as if he were observing a film he had forgotten to look over from long ago.

Kiku had fallen deep in love with you. Everything he did was for you. In his mind, there was no difference between love and possession. You were the one thing he could never let go, the one thing that would make him whole.

And when that moment came—he would make sure there was no escape.

════════════════════════════

He had been attending every one of your performances, without fail. No matter the venue—whether it was an intimate gathering or an art house event tucked away from prying eyes—he always found his way there. He relished the exclusivity, the idea that only a select few could appreciate your art. To him, it was magnificent, and every second spent watching you felt sacred.

Soon, your shows became the highlight of his life. He rescheduled meetings, canceled national duties, all to linger in the shadows of your presence. Even during the most critical discussions, his mind often wandered. Politically important matters, ceremonies, decisions—they all paled compared to thoughts of you. Your voice, the arch of your hands, the grace you exuded—it consumed him.

The first time he approached you, you blushed under his gaze, avoiding his eyes as if overwhelmed. That small flicker of vulnerability stayed with him, replaying in his mind, each time more vivid than the last.

Watching you became a ritual, a sacred act. He sent small, thoughtful gifts—flowers from distant lands, hand-written letters, packages left at your door. He wanted you to feel seen, cherished, even if his gestures sometimes unsettled you. He even started bringing trusted officials and friends to witness your art. He wanted to show you off, to see their awe, as they recognized what he had come to adore.

But the closer he tried to get, the more distant you became. You had gently expressed discomfort with his gifts and appearances. His heart sank. That quiet rejection cut deeper than he’d anticipated. He called to you, begged you to reconsider, but you never wavered. Slowly, imperceptibly, you slipped from his grasp.

With every step you took away, his longing grew. Each polite refusal, each avoidance felt like a door closing. He told himself it was just a phase, that you would understand eventually. But time passed, and that hope began to fade, replaced by an aching frustration. How could you pull away from something so sincere? How could you not see how deeply he adored you? Did you truly believe you could escape?

“いや…いや...いや...いや...

いや! いや! いや!, いや!”

════════════════════════════

When he learned you’d be performing for a private group of university graduates, a spark of jealousy ignited deep within him. His jaw clenched as he imagined those men—laughing, cheering, acting as if they truly understood the value of what you offered.

How could they? They weren’t worthy of sharing the same room with you, let alone witnessing you in such an intimate setting. The thought of it, the idea of them being so close, felt like an intrusion into the sanctity he had carefully built around you.

He couldn't let it go. He had to be there. No matter what, nothing could stop him.

He slipped into the crowd unnoticed, taking refuge in a shadowed corner. His eyes never left you. Every movement you made, every gesture, was recorded in his mind. The group of graduates, so self-assured and too eager, didn’t know their place. They had no right to be near you.

He observed them as they settled, talking amongst themselves, casting glances in your direction. Their words grew louder, and Kiku’s grip on his calm began to slip. One man leaned over to his friend with a grin, eyes scanning you up and down. “I bet she’s just as beautiful up close, don’t you think?”

The other chuckled, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

The laughter that followed made Kiku’s chest tighten. They were nothing but animals, trying to mark their territory, and you were the prize they sought. But it didn’t stop there. As the evening went on, the men grew bolder. One of them, emboldened by a drink, approached you during a brief break in the performance. He placed his hand on your shoulder with too much familiarity, leaning in too close.

“Such a shame," he said, eyes glinting. "A woman with so much talent, and yet so few people to truly appreciate it." He let his hand linger just a moment too long, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck.

You recoiled slightly, discomfort flashing across your face, but you smiled politely. "Please, I'm fine," you said, your tone steady though Kiku could see the slight tension in your shoulders. "Please refrain."

The man smirked, taking your response as an invitation to press further. “You sure? You’re not one of those shy types, are you?”

You took a step back, holding your composure, but it was too much for Kiku. His pulse quickened. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable. He watched as the others, noticing the scene, began to snicker, sharing looks that made his blood boil. These men didn’t just admire you—they were treating you like an object, their entitled hands and crude remarks making his skin burn.

Kiku’s fists clenched, his breath shallow. His eyes locked onto the man’s hand, still resting on you, his touch inappropriate, invasive. A surge of fury coursed through him. How dare they think they could touch you? How dare they think they had any right to make you feel uncomfortable in any way?

The night had begun to unravel, and so had his patience.

The laughter continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. But Kiku’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the men who dared to ruin this moment. He would let them think they were in control, that this was their night. But they had no idea what they had provoked.

He leaned slightly forward, lips curving into a cold smile. There were consequences. And they didn't even see it coming.

Not like he could help it. The thread had snapped, like the final stroke of a katana slicing through the air, severing the restraint he had so carefully maintained. The fire surged through his veins, fierce and unrelenting, as if Kagutsuchi, the god of flames himself, had set his soul alight. It consumed him—body, mind, and spirit—filling every corner of his being with an overwhelming heat, a rage that pulsed with ancient power.

His hand found the knife on the nearby table. The cold steel felt almost... familiar, as though it had been waiting for him, as if it were an extension of his own will. He raised the blade, the glint of metal flashing like the edge of a sword under moonlight, reflecting the fire now burning in his eyes. With each step toward them, he moved like a shadow, swift and decisive.

At this moment, nothing else mattered.

The first slash was quick, clean, and almost too easy. Blood splattered, painting the floor in red streaks, but Kiku didn’t care. The crimson stain of their lives was nothing compared to the purity of his desire. The warm, thick liquid sprayed across the room like the petals of a sakura in full bloom—scattered and gone in an instant, yet forever marking the earth beneath.

The thought of their hands on you, those impure hands, tainted him to his core. Their very existence had defiled something sacred. His heart thudded in his chest, a rhythmic pulse amid the chaos, his breath quick and uneven. How dare they even think of you like that?

Five of them. Five arrogant, filthy students, too blind to realize their actions, would cost them everything. He couldn’t let them live. Not after what they had tried to do.

“許せない、許せない、どうして…どうして君に触れた?”

The second slash came faster than the first, cutting down one of them as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, mingling with their screams and desperate pleas. Kiku’s rage burned hotter, unstoppable now. They scrambled to escape, but it was too late. Another slash. Another life snuffed out in an instant.

He moved through them like a shadow, his strikes swift and merciless, as precise as death itself. They couldn’t escape. They shouldn’t have touched you. Their blood splattered across the floor, and it felt almost... cathartic.

The fourth one—a desperate, shaking figure—reached for the door in vain. Kiku closed in, catching him in an iron grip. A swift slash across the throat, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless, joining the others.

And then there was just one. The last student. Kiku walked toward him slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes, the hopelessness settling in as he realized there was no escape. His apologies fell on deaf ears; his words were useless. They meant nothing now—not when they had tormented so many others before they tried to harm you.

The final slash was quick, precise, and the last of the five fell without a sound. Kiku stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, the knife still dripping with their blood. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

He didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that he had taken their lives with his own hands. What mattered now was that they would never touch you again.

You were his. And no one, not a single soul, could take that away from him.

════════════════════════════

The knife slipped from Kiku’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a metallic thud, but he hardly noticed. His chest rose and fell, breath coming faster, as his gaze found you.

You.

Your figure trembled in the dim light, and in his eyes, you were like a spider lily in full bloom, a beautiful apparition drenched in red. Crimson painted you in streaks, trails of black running down your cheeks as you watched him, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, a delicate petal shaken by the storm.

Kiku’s breathing stopped, his heart halting in his chest as his world narrowed to you, only you. He was so close, close enough to catch the faint shiver in your frame, close enough to see the tears glistening in your eyes. It was intoxicating, a sight more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed in his endless lifetime.

His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to trace those stains of red like brushstrokes on silk. You, trembling before him, so perfect, so untouched by anyone else’s taint—now his. His alone.

A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. No other nation, no other woman had ever sparked this feeling in him. In centuries of existence, through wars and alliances, through lifetimes of encounters, he had never felt this pull, this ache, until you.

The feeling was ancient, relentless, filling the depths of his soul like the tides. He had wanted many things, fought for many things, but this… this was different. A possession he had claimed, yet one he longed to cherish, to hold, to keep forever close.

He took a step forward, then another, as if entranced, his heartbeat finally catching up to the flood of emotions overwhelming him. You were his. And no one—no force, no man, no fate— would or could take that away.

His fingers brushed against the red phone in his pocket, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness. A dark smile curled on his lips as he held it up, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes traced every inch of your form, as if committing you to memory. His black suit was stained with crimson, the blood that had spilled from the chaos now forgotten, its significance drowned in the quiet tension between you.

The phone’s screen lit up, and with it, the soft click of the camera captured the moment. Another flash. The light illuminated your face, your trembling form, and your wide, fearful eyes. Kiku could almost taste the fear in the air, and he relished it, savoring every second.

You lay there, weak and trembling, your body unwilling to move but your mind screaming for escape. The dress you wore—delicate, lace-trimmed, a soft shade of pale pink—clung to your form, stained now with the same blood that marked his hands. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding around you.

Kiku’s smile remained serene, calm in a way that made your heart race, as if nothing were wrong. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, slow, savoring the moment. The room was heavy with silence, your breathing the only sound filling the space. The blood spattered across his face, and yet his expression remained as composed as ever, as if this was some twisted art he was admiring.

"言ってみろ。もう二度と逃げないと言いな,"

Kiku whispered softly, his voice smooth, almost tender, but laced with an authority, a threat, a plea, a promise.

Say it. Say you'll never run away again.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move. Fear had paralyzed you, and his gaze held you captive, making it impossible to tear your eyes away. Every instinct screamed for you to fight, to flee, but there was no escape. You were trapped in his world.

Kiku’s fingers pressed down on the phone’s screen one last time. Another flash. The light lingered, and in that brief moment, you saw the truth: he had captured you. Not just your image, but something deeper, something irreversible. You could never escape now. You were his.

And in that flash, it was sealed.

Forever.

[pipsqueaks89934]

Yandere orc hunter x human singer reader

Warnings: kidnapping, getting knocked out, chained to the floor, and forced to sing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were singing at the local bar since you needed money and they needed entertainment so it was a win-win situation, you were on your break when a large Orc came in with a hog on his shoulders walking and placing it on the bar before one of the workers came up to him.

“Thanks for the meat, same time next week?” the bartender asked him as she picked up the pig.

“Yeah,” he answered while sitting down at the bar. “Can I get a drink before I go?”

“Of course, anything for our hunter,” she said with a smile before walking to the back. “Let me just put this away!”

Once your break was over you went back on stage to sing. As you sang you noticed the Orc was looking at you with an intense gaze while drinking from a beer mug. You reach your last song as the bar is about to close and once you finish singing you get your stuff together and get ready to leave.

“You’re a good singer,” you heard a deep voice say from behind you and jumped in surprise as you turned around to face the big orc you saw earlier. “What's your name?”

“Y/n…” you say once your heart slows down.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said while towering over you. “My name is Korgak.”

“Well, I have to go home now,” you say awkwardly while trying to leave the bar. “It was nice meeting you, sir.”

“Korgak,” he said as he walked closer. “My name.”

“Right, I'll remember that,” you smile nervously at him. “But if you will excuse me I have to get home before it gets too late.”

You left the bar in a hurry after that. As you walked home you felt something hit your head before blacking out. When you woke up you were in an unfamiliar place.

“Ah, you are up,” you heard a familiar voice say as you tried to get up only to struggle by the chains around your wrists that were connected to the floor. “I've been watching you for a while little human.”

“Let me go!” you say while standing your ground.

“No you're mine now and now that I have you I'm never going to let you go!” he said before going back upstairs and leaving you in the dark.

After that, you cried a lot for many reasons but mainly when he wanted you to sing for him.