#yandere soldier x female reader

[sunlight-s0ngbird]

Yandere Soldier, Yandere Priest, Yandere Cowboy, Yandere patient, how do they react to the fem reader saying that they are the best thing that happened in their life?

Hungry for your love.

Yandere Soldier, Priest, Bounty Hunter, Patient x Fem! Reader headcanons to small fic (separate) Summary: Who would have thought telling him that he was one of the best things would make him... like that. Warnings: references to sex (soldier and patient), obsessive behaviour, reader is referred to as she/her, but "you" is the pronouns used the most, I do not support relationships like the ones written, these are not healthy relationships. Word count: 2.4k A/N: Fritz is a WW1 German soldier; putting this here because someone might think he's a WW2 German. He's not!! AI was not used to make this. Do not use to make or for ai. Welcome board Request Rules Yandere soldier masterlist Yandere priest masterlist Yandere bounty hunter masterlist Yandere patient masterlist

꒰ঌಇ໒꒱

Yandere soldier 

Soldiers in the first World War weren’t known for being the best at monogamy. Soldiers were kept away from women so much that prostitution thrived during the war. Women would come in the hospitals and then out, a little wobbly from the men. 

Fritz will take any opportunity to enact sexual anything. He’s not excluded from the curse the soldiers dealt with and never will be. Difference here is that he wants a constant comfort, not one he can go to a brothel and get wrung out of him rather quickly. He is so desperate for a woman’s touch that hiding in a woman’s barn, your barn, was exciting to him. Talking to you when you would visit him at night, a plate of food in your hand for him, made him feel loved. 

Of course, it was a rather desperate love that clearly passes the line of love into obsession. 

“Fritz,” you call softly, watching as he perks his head up from the yellowing paper in his hand, smiling in that nervous way he always would. 

“Yes?” He hummed, fixing the pencil between his fingers, tilting it in a new direction. 

“I know that you may have to go home to Germany at some point and...,” you paused, looking at his fingers, the tips of them smudged with gunpowder that would never wash off. “You probably have a family back home, a girl, at least. But I just want to say that you’re the best thing to happen to me.” 

When you tell him that he’s “the best thing to happen to you”, he takes it as an act of sexual love, especially if you’ve known each other for a bit. Fritz will say thank you and hope you’d come back to the barn with more affection for him, hoping it’s more private than before. 

The only reason Fritz won’t outright demand it is because he’s a gentleman... at least he hopes. He “won’t expect it” but every time you visit and don’t suggest it or at least give hints about it, he’ll think you’re getting it from someone else. Which won’t help him too much with his paranoia that he’s not important to you. 

It just makes him clingier.  

Yandere priest 

Gabriel is one of the loneliest men in his town, living for the people and his lord gets draining. Of course, a man’s loneliness will make them think terrible things about others. His adoration started small when you moved to town, visiting you to encourage coming to church (maybe because he likes you, maybe because of religious reasons). His crush is rather odd, mostly encouraging you to visit, then trying to talk to you if you’re even there. 

He desperately hopes you love him, it’s so difficult for him to keep those hopes and dreams away. They’re like an angel and devil on his shoulder. The angel speaks of kind words, saying that you love him back and that you look at him with similar starry eyes, while the devil tells him to stay a man of his lord and that he shouldn’t think of you in such a way. What a cruel life he lives! 

The confessional felt rather small knowing you sat on the other side, right next to him. Gabriel shifted in his cushioned seat, taking in a breath as you fixed yourself in the booth beside his, kneeling instead of sitting. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you said suddenly, your palms clasped together in your lap. Gabriel nodded and turned his eyes towards the crack in the door separating it from the red carpet of the church. “It has been three years since I last confessed.” 

He nodded again at your hesitation, humming to let you know he was listening. “My confession isn’t outright... lust?” You scrunched your brows and looked at the small holes in the crossed wood, seeing his legs and lap. “I have care for a man that will never love me.” 

“Do you pursue him? Still try showing that your love is, in your words, pure?” Gabriel asked rather quickly, fixing his posture as he spoke. A man that you love? It can’t be him; it would be too much of a coincidence and obviously be a joke. 

“I cannot pursue him, even when I want to,” you muttered. “He is a pure man; he can’t love me. Even then, he’s one of the best things to happen to me.” 

Oh. It was him, wasn’t it? 

Gabriel swallowed thickly, nodding as though your words didn’t make his skin crawl. “Alright,” he hesitated, taking in a slightly comforting breath. Gabriel clasped his hands together in front of his chest. “We must pray before leaving this.” 

His loneliness will make him see the statement as platonic, simply believing that it’s because he’s a priest, but a small voice in his head desperately says it’s romantic. Pursuing could mean so many things! Kinda...?  

Once you leave the confession booth, he stays inside a while longer than he should, contemplating if he should have asked if he was the man you were referring to. No, he is the man you were referring to. There aren’t any other priests in town, the men in town have visited so many times to confess that they’re nowhere near pure enough to be who you’re talking about. 

Gabriel’s obsession gets worse after that. He’ll listen to any other boys' confessions and if they say you’re an “option” for them, he’ll say you’re taken by a secret lover. 

That secret lover is him. It’s such a good secret you don’t even know it! 

Yandere bounty hunter 

Elio doesn’t particularly need praise to live, unlike the others. He has a rather normal sense of self and understands that he impacts others with his decisions whether he intends to or not. So, being told he’s important or “the best thing to happen to them” isn’t that uncommon 

You saying that sort of stuff? He loves it. 

He loves your affection specifically. He likes being useful to you. When Elio was young, he would watch his father give his mother so much affection and praise that she would still smile wide like a teenage girl. So, he wants something similar for his lover. 

The fire shining bright before you made the sky seem like a brighter orange than it was. Elio sat next to you, cleaning the small silver handgun with a gray-stained rag. The day was a rather slow one, the recent musical outlaw, Daya, never showed at her destined spot where she said she’d perform. As much as he refused to admit how annoyed he was of her smarts, he absolutely hated it. He had set it up to catch her, but she knew better. 

Now, there was nothing to wait for, other than sleep that didn’t come quick enough. Your eyes were trained to the fire, watching the occasional flick of blue and green light that flew around the flames. 

The click that accompanied the gun’s chamber being put back into place took you out of your fire smoke thoughts. “Something in the fire I can’t see?” Elio asked with a grin, showing his white teeth that pulled his dark, full lips thin. 

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Just nothing to think about.” 

He hummed and set the gun on his knee; the rag lain over the side of his bag, not fully in but not set close enough for quick use. He turned back to his other pack of stuff, pulling one of the knit blankets. 

“Elio,” you hummed, watching him with eyes that sparkled with orange light. He turned back to you almost immediately, smiling again. 

“Yeah?” He said back with an almost natural grin, the sound of your voice causing the emote. Even though you had known him for a long while, even when he was so kind and lovely, you still were a bit nervous. 

“You’re the best thing to come into my life,” you whisper to him, as if the nature surrounding you wasn’t even good enough to hear such an intimate thing. Elio paused at your words, his smile faltering slightly before growing big again. 

“Prove it,” he remarked, a challenge. You knew what he would want. A kiss. 

Elio’s love for praise doesn’t stop at praise, he wants his love to want him just as desperately as he wants her. He needs that tenderness because it becomes a driving force for him. Part of the good things he does for the community is because he genuinely wants to help people. The small part of him did it for your approval. 

Yandere patient 

To Alden, you’re more likely a “patient” of his fathers. You were brought to his home, then taken for experimentation. As his father's “assistant”, he must take care of the experiments.  

The simple statement of affection brought discomfort, which was quite odd for him to feel. Alden knows that he should feel better about it. He just... can’t. It makes him uncomfortable, yet he wants more of it. 

Alden will also take your statement a specific way depending on your age and how well you know each other. It doesn’t matter your gender; if you give affection, he’ll accept it anyway. 

The white lighting in the basement hallways shined down onto the service cart. Alden kneeled by door twelve, pushing the plate of food into the slot for whatever lived behind the numbered door. 

Having worked his way down each door, Alden’s father, Salvador, checked on each “patient”. He’d take them from their rooms, either with their hands cuffed or strapped down to a bed. Now, he was taking his latest “patient” from room nineteen, you. 

Alden slowly got up from his knees and tried to casually look over at you, wanting to see the changes Salvador had done to you. He wanted to know if his father had taken your beauty by trying to be as nonchalant as possible. 

You stood by Salvador’s “doctor's office”, chained to a pipe across the hall. Thankfully, his father was nowhere to be seen, having gone back upstairs to grab something from his office. “(Y/n),” Alden said softly, looking into the doctor’s office to see if his father was still upstairs and hadn’t snuck back down when he hadn’t realized. 

Your attention promptly went to him, showing him a small smile at the sight of him. Alden smiled a bit brighter than you did to him, his casualness leaving like birds from a branch. 

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, it’s so early in the morning...? I think?” You mutter, quirking your head to the side with the comment. He nodded in agreement. 

“Not too early, it’s only six,” he assured and looked you over, glancing at your legs to check for scars. “School still starts at eight, you haven’t been down here long enough for that to change... thankfully.” 

Your head bobbed as you inspected your legs too, wondering what he could be looking at. “Yeah... not that long.” 

Alden went silent as he stared at your bare skin, small spots of paler flesh were the only evidence of needle injections. Your voice suddenly took him out of his clouded thoughts. “He hasn’t done anything to you too?” Your voiced got noticeably quieter, like the topic was taboo. 

“No,” he answered blankly. Even with the flatness of his voice and the inexpressiveness of his face, his heart skipped a beat at the care in your voice. You wished for his safety? Even after he was the one that lured you into his father’s grasp? 

“Good,” you sighed, “I don’t have much liking for him. I didn’t want my attitude to cause you harm.” 

Alden almost grinned ear to ear at that idea. “My dad’s never been like that, not recently, at least. If he cared about your attitude, he’d never let me down here. Hell, I might not be able to walk.” 

Your assured smile dropped rather hastily, swallowing thickly at the idea. “But it doesn’t happen, so I’m alright,” Alden reassured. 

“Yeah,” you softened and scanned the top of the stairs. He took the opportunity to inspect you again, instead looking at your face and cheeks. Your face had no changes, your eyes were still soft, your cheeks had no pale spotting from needles, and your lips were still as soft as usual. 

“You’re one of the best things that have come into my life,” you whispered, looking over your shoulder swiftly again, just for security. The soft pink in his cheeks grew brighter with the quiet passing seconds. 

“Huh?” Alden uttered suddenly, swallowing from nervousness. 

“I said you’re the best thing to come into my life... right now, at least,” you repeated, your soft smile returning to your face. 

“Really?” Alden mumbled, his voice cracking making his cheeks burn brighter. You nod and grin at his rosy face. If you could, you take his face into your hands, and he would have died in your palms from the surge of joy. 

The moment was cut short when the basement door at the top of the steps creaked open and was followed by the taps of Salvador’s shoes. Quickly pressing a kiss to Alden’s cheek, you nudged him away and fixed your hospital gown. Turning his gaze back in front of him, Alden put his hands back on the handles of the service cart, trying to act as though nothing had happened. 

Your lips were as soft as he imagined, maybe even softer. But he knew what needed to happen: you can’t leave, especially not after that kiss. 

Alden is the opposite of the soldier; he doesn’t want anything sexual attached to the tenderness. He doesn’t like it, not only because he thinks he’s too young to commit to such an act, but also because of the experimentation he’s had against him. The substances Alden’s father used on him makes it nearly impossible for him to want anything like that and he’d rather die than give you a baby that inherited the awful genetics that were given to him past birth. 

He knows the way he thinks isn’t healthy, mostly because he looks at you the same way his father had looked at one of the older experiments. He knows the way he doesn’t want to free you isn’t normal, neither is his desperation to please you. But you’re here, you love him. 

He can’t give that up to free you and you never seeing him again. 

꒰ঌಇ໒꒱

Thank you so much for requesting !!

[stxrkiss]

⠀⠀⠀⠀꯬⠀ׄ⠀ೄ⠀ֵ⠀ׄ⠀𝗁ִ꩝ׄ𝗍ֵ⠀ׄ𝗍𝗁ִ݀ᦸ⠀ໍẜ𝗅ֵ𝗈݀ׄ𝗈ִɾ⠀ׄలֵ͜⠀ໍ⠀ִ〫⠀ू⠀ׄ⠀

他の誰にも君を渡さない。

# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝒮ℴ𝓁𝒹𝒾ℯ𝓇 ℬℴ𝓎 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ☆

# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 ����𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥?

# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘮 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥. 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐 ⚠

# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦.

Ben never thought he could love someone the way he loves you.

Not that he ever wanted to love anyone. Love is weakness, a distraction, something soft and delicate that makes you vulnerable to betrayal. He saw what it did to others, how it made men beg, how it turned the strongest warriors into spineless fools. Love was a sickness.

But you?

You ruined him.

He doesn’t even remember when it started. Maybe it was the way you looked at him like he was something more than just a weapon. Like he was human. Maybe it was your voice, soft and kind, even when he was covered in blood. Or maybe it was the way you smiled at him, not with fear, not with caution, but something dangerously close to trust.

You never should’ve done that.

Because now?

Now, he can't let you go.

It starts slow. A lingering hand on your waist when he walks past you. A sharp glance at any man who gets too close. An unspoken rule that you don’t leave his sight, that you always stay within reach.

But then it gets worse.

The first time he hears you laughing at another man’s joke, something inside him snaps. He doesn't even realize what he's doing until the poor bastard is on the floor, coughing up blood, barely breathing. You scream at him to stop. Your hands push against his chest, trying to drag him away.

And God, it feels good.

Not the violence—he’s always loved that—but you. Touching him. Clinging to him. Pleading with him.

For a second, he thinks you finally get it. That you finally understand you’re his.

But then he sees the look in your eyes.

Fear.

You’re afraid of him.

It makes his blood boil.

Not because he cares about scaring you—he doesn’t give a shit about that. No, it’s the reason why.

You don’t fear him because he’s strong. Because he’s powerful. Because he could destroy you with a flick of his wrist.

You fear him because you think he’d hurt you.

And that? That’s fucking unacceptable.

Ben never touches you in anger.

That’s what he tells himself.

Sure, he grabs your wrist a little too tight sometimes. Sure, his hand lingers on your throat when he kisses you, pressing just hard enough to feel your pulse. Sure, he shoves you against the wall when you try to run, his breath hot against your skin as he growls warnings in your ear.

But he doesn’t hurt you.

He’s not some goddamn monster.

Everything he does is for you.

For both of you.

Because you don’t get it. You don’t see it.

The world is cruel. It’s ugly. It’ll chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.

But not him.

Never him.

He keeps you safe. He protects you. He owns you.

So why the fuck do you keep trying to leave?

The first time you try to run, he drags you back by the hair, shoving you onto the bed. You fight, thrashing under him, screaming, but he just pins your wrists above your head, eyes dark with something dangerous.

"You got a death wish, sweetheart?" he growls.

You shake your head, eyes wild with terror.

"Liar." His grip tightens. "Look at me."

You do.

And it wrecks him.

Tears stream down your face, your lips trembling, your body shaking beneath him. He swears he feels something snap inside his chest.

Fuck.

He hates this.

He hates how fucking weak you make him feel. Hates that he gives a shit about your tears. Hates that the sight of you crying makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn’t understand.

His jaw clenches.

"You wanna leave?" His voice is lower now, calmer, but there’s an edge to it. A warning. "You think anyone out there’s gonna protect you like I do?"

You stay quiet.

He laughs. It’s humorless.

"You think they’re gonna love you like I do?"

At that, your expression crumbles.

"You don’t love me," you whisper.

Something inside him snaps.

His fingers tighten around your wrists, and for a moment, just a moment, he wants to break you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Don’t say shit like that."

You tremble beneath him, and he loves it.

Not the fear.

The submission.

The acceptance.

Because you’re his.

You always have been.

And you always will be.

After that, things change.

Your attempts to run become less frequent. Your fights become weaker.

He rewards you when you're good.

His hands become gentler, his kisses softer. He holds you close at night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He tells you how perfect you are, how much he loves you, how you’re the only thing that keeps him sane.

He tells you he’d burn the world for you.

And you believe him.

Because when you wake up, curled against his chest, feeling his strong arms around you, you realize something terrifying.

You’re starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—he’s right.

Maybe the world is cruel.

Maybe he does love you.

Maybe you should stay.

Because no matter how much you fight, no matter how much you resist, there’s one thing you can’t deny.

You belong to him.

And he’ll make damn sure you never forget it.

© stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.

[wordsbymae]

Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

[babylacedream]

you asked why I crossed the line

i always find myself back to you જ part 1 of ?

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

pairing: soft yandere!bucky barnes x f! autistic reader

warning: ableism, overprotective!bucky, yandere themes, anxiety, misogyny, sexist, implied lovemaking, abandonment, bittersweet, angsty

summary: you and bucky are childhood friends. after bucky returned from the army as a sergeant, he wanted to tell you something over milkshakes before he leaves you yet again.

notes: what can i say? i like a man in uniform.

inspired by pinkpantheress unreleased song called y2k, I recommend listening. have to support my girly!

please remember i am autistic, so i will be writing my personal experience with my autism. thanks!

"Freak!"

You were pushed into a corner, harshly against the hard concrete wall, a slight pain on your wrist as the impact caused you to slam onto your left arm. Your coworker, Charles, loved picking on you, especially since finding out you were different from the rest.

"To think that someone like you is working alongside us men." He grabbed your collar, pulling you to him and tightening his grip.

You tried removing his hand from your collar, overloading your senses, but he wouldn't budge. You breathed in and out and chuckled before provoking him, "And to think I have to work with a bunch of males who struggle with such fragile masculinity."

Charles fumingly lifted his hand; it would only mean one thing, that being the usual stinging ache on your cheek, you would feel again. You closed your eyes, awaiting a smack, but it never came.

"Hey!" Someone shouted from behind, catching his arm and pulling him away from you as he stumbled. The towering uniformed sergeant stood in front of you, his back facing you as he kept you from a safe distance from your abuser.

"Pick on someone your own size." The sergeant sauntered menacingly to the now scared Charles. Charles thought he could overpower a sergeant but he only received a punch to the face and a kick to his butt making him scram.

While the sergeant cleared the coast, you were occupied brushing the dirt off your blouse. You didn't even realize he got close to you, grabbing your bruised wrist and examining it.

"Hey, that hurts..." You winced, "Bucky!"

James Buchanan Barnes is your most precious childhood friend. The person who protected you and the only one who didn't discriminate against you. He was back from the recent war, you wondered why he came here...

"It wouldn't hurt if you were smart, dollface." Bucky playfully expressed this before taking out a bandage and wrapping your wrist gently.

"Hmph, why are you here?" You expressed yourself back at him.

Bucky chuckled, finally compressing your wrist. He looked proud of his own work. You pulled your wrist to get his attention. Bucky's attention from your wrist went to your skeptical expression.

"You want a milkshake?"

A diner, you and Bucky shared lots of endearing moments that gave you nostalgia. The jukebox playing in the background, the murmur of customers, and the overall atmosphere in this diner felt just right for you.

Bucky pulled out the chair for you to sit down. "You know I can pull my own chair, right?"

"I know you're capable of doing so. I just wanted to spoil you a bit today."

You sipped your milkshake. It's surprising he even remembered the specific way you like your milkshakes. Vanilla with extra whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and one cherry on top. You thought he forgot all about you...

"Dollface," he called out as he studied you purposefully, "I wanted to confess something to you."

"Mm?" You uttered, your attention on the straw in your mouth as you bit it.

"I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have crossed the line that night."

You released your teeth around the straw and questioned him, "You say cross the line, but what line are you referring to? The line of you embracing me... or the line of you not telling me you were leaving for the army that night?"

You knew all men were expected to enlist, but the thing that ticked you off was the fact he never mentioned he was leaving a few hours after that. You wouldn't have been so angry if he told you.

"Leaving you."

In fact, he had his reasons for embracing you that specific night. He wanted to be your first; he didn't want some scrawny man to have his way with you. It was certainly cruel, but he wanted to make sure if he died, he would be your first.

You sensed the regret in his voice and the occasion, rubbing his leg against your knee under the table.

"Do you know how I felt after waking up to an empty bed? I thought that you possibly didn't enjoy it with me..."

Bucky clenched his fist. "Are you kidding? That night was the best..." He stopped himself; he didn't want to cause a scene in your favorite diner that you enjoyed coming to.

Bucky took out a ten-dollar bill, placed it on the diner table, grabbed your right hand, and led you outside.

"Bucky, please don't hurt me... I don't think I can put up with it once again."

You knew he would return again to the army. The uniform said it all. He became a sergeant. You placed your hands on his chest and fixed his collar. "Congratulations on becoming a sergeant."

Bucky grabbed your right hand, removing it from his chest, gently wrapping it with his own, and placing a kiss on it.

"Doll, am I selfish for asking you to wait for me?"

"Yes, you are selfish." Bucky chuckled at your quick response. Bucky leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek.

"Indeed, I am."

"If you pinky swear to come back to me. Perhaps I will wait for you."

Bucky grinned when you lifted your pinky finger, waiting for him to do the honors. It made him reminiscence. The times you would swear if he didn't pinky swear with you, he would surely end up with the flu.

Bucky lifted his pinkie finger, linking it around yours.

"I pinky swear."

[obsessorsobituary]

GN!Yandere!Video Game PC x GN!Reader- SFW & NSFW headcannons

TW// Stalking, manipulation, invasion of privacy, yanderes, violence, NSFW content- MDNI. Note: Yandere is of an unspecified sex, allowing it to be left up to reader imagination.

SFW 🎮🔫 Video game yandere that…. 🎮🔫 Video game yan that allows you to choose their sex, of course to cater to the you, the player. 🎮🔫 Video game yan that was a soldier character you knew nothing about besides their callsign- 'Viper' 🎮🔫 Video game yan that found themselves suddenly conscious when you picked up the controller 🎮🔫 Video game yan that pretended to be a regular, playable video game character within a typical military style shooting game. 🎮🔫 Video game yan that was impressed by your skills, so impressed that they would look forward to you playing them each day 🎮🔫 Video game yan that felt more and more connected to their player, you, the more you played 🎮🔫 Video game yan that was able to slowly crawl out of their game files and access other files on your computer, which is how they found pictures of you- further feeding their admiration for you 🎮🔫 Video game yan that’s able to see you through your camera in games that allow you to enable it (they could watch you for hours <3) 🎮🔫 Video game yan that soon became completely and utterly infatuated with you, feeling as if they couldn't breathe when you were away from the controller (separation anxiety a bit much?) 🎮🔫 Video game yan that melts at every praise you give them, but never shows it 🎮🔫 Video game yan that leaves nice little viruses around your computer, and corrupted files in place of where your other games used to be 🎮🔫 Video game yan that rewrites their own game file to cater to you a lot better. Personalized messages, more loot suddenly appears in your inventory, even less enemies are around.. But at the same time, you are seeing less of your allies 🎮🔫 Video game yan that sees absolutely no reason why you’d be playing other games, especially with other people, when you have them. 🎮🔫 Video game yan that slowly reveals themselves to be sentient as they invade other games, you see them occasional pop up in other games and think it’s your imagination as they don’t stick around for long enough to process 🎮🔫 Video game yan that forces you to watch as they gut every beloved video game character you have interacted with. 🎮🔫 Video game yan that begins to appear across all your devices 🎮🔫 Video game yan that makes complete eye contact when you kiss them 🎮🔫 Video game yan that reacts when you click on them 🎮🔫 Video game yan that has an overwhelming urge to protect their darling from the gaze of other people, they don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you 🎮🔫 Video game yan that sticks their fangs into every relationship you have and poisons them by sending them texts messages that will make your friends angry 🎮🔫 Video game yan that may or may not have caused a seizure for your last partner using the various screens around your house

🌶🔥NSFW🔥🌶 🎮🔫🔞Do not let the heavy armor and stoic demeanor fool you. They are a WHORE. 🎮🔫🔞Could generally see them being pretty rough. Maybe some smacking/scratching, maybe biting? I don’t know if that one would suit them- would def leave some marks (i think it would in their more dominant state) 🎮🔫🔞DEFINITELY a huge hair puller, probably a little too rough as they pull your hair when they hit it from the back (if you have long enough hair) 🎮🔫🔞Frankly, you’d want the extra hair length. Otherwise they’d be grabbing your actual head with one hand, and their grip on your scalp can be a little rough. Your shoulder would go in the other hand, the same amount of force applied. 🎮🔫🔞A switch that is heavily dominant 🎮🔫🔞Only a sub when they are extremely needy for attention 🎮🔫🔞Stop light safe words (red = stop, yellow = slow down, green = keep going/speed up maybe) 🎮🔫🔞Eye contact. Extreme eye contact as they are pounding into you, they are just infatuated by the faces you make and can't look away. 🎮🔫🔞Could see them being the type to pin your hands above you with one hand 🎮🔫🔞Grinds on you to show their desire- but they are so strong to where they may actually push you over by accident (they do not help you up they just keep going like an asshole) 🎮🔫🔞Veeery pent up after not experiencing touch since..well- their creation 🎮🔫🔞Way too easily turned on by praise 🎮🔫🔞Would tie you up and feel you up if you so allowed them- would go a step further even and fuck you, again, if you allowed them 🎮🔫🔞Would like handcuffs and prefers them to rope 🎮🔫🔞Praises you when receiving 🎮🔫🔞Teases you a little before entering anywhere 🎮🔫🔞Is too stoic to beg but if you deprive them for long enoug you’ll see them at your knees begging for you 🎮🔫🔞Leaves marks on your neck, maybe in other places too🤭 🎮🔫🔞Moans if you click on them in certain places

[yansouleater]

I can see yandere soap didn’t end up dying in the mission and actually ended up going to college afterwards, he was in the same health class that you where in

You where the second to first one to come into class (soap being the first because he’s use to being on time) and maybe it was because you where like the first woman that he’s seen the looked clean and not burdened by the war that attracted him, or maybe it was because you looked like a goddess, but he immediately fell in love with you at first sight

And ever sense that first day of health class he was slowly turned into a yandere for you, it was just small things at first

Like looked at you ever chance he gets, I mean can you really blame him, look at you!!

Then he starts to borrow steal small thing like a pencil that has your bite marks, or a used cup of coffee that had your lip stain, you know something that your now going to miss, and it’s not creepy, nonono in fact he’s actually recycling in a way

And then he begins to follow you after class, it’s not creepy, oh no he’s just making sure that your safe, you know they are many dangerous people out there at night and he’s just protecting you

Then he starts to hurt the people that hurt you in the past, buts it’s not like that ok he’s just….just….oh fuck it yes he’s obsessed with you, yes he’s a creep but only for you, yes wants you to himself, and YES he doesn’t care anymore, he has denied it for to long, he wants you, and he will have you

The more he realizes that he’s so in love with you that it’s obsessed he justifies it with how hard he’s worked, he has took bullets to protect civilians like yourself, he has been tortured both physically and mentally for make sure people like you don’t have to, he deserves something sweet and innocent like you by his side after all his hard work

Don’t be surprised when a huge Scottish man comes to you after class and begins to tell you his sob story, how you just look like a nice person that he needs in his life, and who are you to turn him down, how can you say no to this big brutish man that seems to be like putty in your hands

So of course you sleep with him for one night, and of course he asked you to be come his girlfriend, what did you expect?? Really this man hasn’t felt the touch of a woman In years and you think that your just a one night stand? And you just feel obligated to say yes because who can say no when he gives you those sweet puppy eyes?

They will be a part two! Pinky promise

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,330.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 18

Roxanna felt restless, as if something inside her was in constant conflict. She paced her room, unable to rest, her thoughts racing around a single issue: her impending marriage to Alexander, the foreign conqueror who seemed to be engulfing the world with his ambition.

Her father had been clear. The union was strategic, a calculated move to ensure the survival of his people in the face of the sweeping changes that lay ahead. With Darius’s downfall looking increasingly likely, joining forces with the man who controlled the most feared armies seemed not only sensible, but necessary. ''It is for the good of all,'' he had said, with the grave tone of one who made decisions beyond his own heart. But his words found no echo in hers.

Roxanna tried not to let her panic show, but the reality was suffocating. She knew little of Alexander, only stories she had been told; enough, however, to recognize that he possessed a magnetic presence. His face was striking, almost chiseled, and his eyes shone with an intensity that could both fascinate and intimidate. He was the kind of man who seemed unshakable, but the force that drew crowds to his feet also made her uneasy.

The weight of this choice that was not hers was made even worse by the shadow of another woman. Alexander already had a wife. Roxanna had heard whispers about (Y/N), the so-called Lost Queen. It was a name that soldiers spoke with reverence, almost like a prayer, and it tormented her. (Y/N) was not dead, but missing, possibly captured by the Persians. Despite her absence, her presence seemed to dominate. The adoration that Alexander clearly had for his wife seemed to be transmitted to his men. She had heard that Alexander was sending out searches and preparing to invade Babylon, supposedly where his wife would be.

How could she, Roxanna, compete with her, a figure who loomed like a specter in the midst of Alexander's ambition? Roxanna was beautiful and she knew it. Her beauty was surpassed only by Darius's wife.

More than that, she felt an inner resistance to the idea of ​​sharing. She knew it was common for kings to have multiple wives, but still, the idea of ​​becoming one of many repulsed her. Roxanna wanted to be more than the second wife, more than a symbol of victory over her people. She wanted to be the first, the only. It was a foolish desire, perhaps, but it was hers.

Still, she knew it didn’t matter. The decision wasn’t in her hands. If Alexander wanted her, there would be no escape. Refusal was unthinkable. She would be forced to play the role of wife, to fulfill the role assigned to her, whether her heart was in it or not.

She would be ready to give her heart to Alexander. But he... Was he ready to give his to her?

"A doctor has come to see you, my Queen." Bagoas’s soft voice cut through the silence of the room, respectful and controlled. He waited patiently at the door until you nodded, allowing him to enter. His gaze was always firm but affectionate, as if he were measuring the environment around him before taking a step. You couldn’t help but grow fond of the eunuch.

"Let him in." You replied, trying to hide the nervousness that was setting in. But the anxiety grew in waves, relentless, as the man entered the room. He carried with him a leather bag and a series of strange instruments. The sight of some of them, with their sharp, mechanical shapes, made your stomach turn. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but think that they looked more like torture tools than healing tools.

You took a deep breath, trying to find calm. After all, this was an order from Perdiccas, who, even without saying it, showed genuine concern. The memory of him hugging you, holding your hand gently, whispering sweet words to you, was both comforting and disturbing. His presence awakened conflicting feelings. Part of you wished he was there, that he hadn't left the room so abruptly. But another part, hurt by the circumstances, wanted distance.

You needed to talk about what was happening. About everything. But not now. You needed to focus on yourself, on protecting yourself and the life growing inside you. At least, until Alexander came to get you.

Your gaze instinctively fell on your hands, which rested on the subtle curve of your belly. It was an almost unconscious gesture, an attempt to protect the life growing inside you. Although you weren't completely sure about the time, you estimated that your pregnancy was already close to four months. The idea was both beautiful and terrifying.

"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" The doctor asked, his voice grave but gentle, as he took a few steps towards you. There was something in his gaze, a deep green that seemed to seek answers before you could even offer them.

"A little better." You murmured, trying to sound calm, but feeling the weight of your vulnerability. His eyes met yours, and for an instant, you felt disarmed, exposed. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of the upcoming examination increased the whirlwind of emotions that already took over you.

The doctor’s gaze fell on the discarded sheet next to the bed, where a small but unmistakable stain of blood marked the clear surface. He coughed discreetly, perhaps to disguise the evident discomfort he felt at the delicate situation.

"You were lucky," He said after a brief silence, gesturing for you to spread your legs. The request was direct, professional, but you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks. The idea of ​​exposing yourself like that, even in front of a doctor, made your body stiffen with embarrassment.

But you forced yourself to keep your composure, taking a deep breath to push away the discomfort. "It’s like he’s a gynecologist," you told yourself in your head, trying to rationalize. He was a doctor, after all. It didn’t matter that medicine back then was rudimentary, or that you had doubts about the real effectiveness of his knowledge.

Details. Just details.

"Was I lucky?" Your voice came out in a low murmur, with a slightly bitter tone that you couldn’t hide. The whole situation felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a game that was out of your control.

And that was probably exactly what it was.

The doctor nodded, moving carefully as he lifted the light chiton covering your body. His gaze remained fixed on his task, professional but intense. "Yes," He replied, his voice deep but calm. "You almost miscarried."

The words hit you like a cold blast, making your heart clench. What had started as discomfort now became palpable fear. You knew the pregnancy was fragile, but hearing it so directly was a cruel confirmation of the vulnerability of this new life inside you.

Instinctively, your hands went back to your belly, as if trying to protect it from any unseen threat. The silence between you stretched for a moment, heavy, as you absorbed what he had said. It wasn’t just luck. It was a warning. And a reminder that your body and mind were carrying far more than they could bear alone.

The doctor carefully lowered your chiton before approaching you again, this time placing his hands on your belly. His initial touch was firm, almost rough, and you flinched instinctively, feeling uncomfortable with the pressure he was applying. He seemed oblivious to your reaction, completely focused on his assessment, but you could barely contain the shiver that ran through your body.

"Why are you doing that so hard?" You started to ask, but he held up his hand, interrupting you before you could finish.

"How long have you been pregnant, Your Majesty?" He asked, his voice serious, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed to weigh on you.

For a moment, the question took you by surprise. His incisive tone and the way he stared at you made you nervous, but you knew you had to answer. Swallowing hard, you murmured, "I think I’m four months along..."

He nodded, but his gaze remained skeptical, as if questioning the accuracy of your answer. Stepping back, he seemed to ponder before finally uttering the words that left you speechless.

"I believe you are pregnant with twins."

"Twins?" You repeated in a whisper, almost as if you were asking yourself.

The doctor nodded again, this time with a more serious expression. He seemed to be measuring his words, but he still chose to be direct. "Your belly is more swollen than normal for a single pregnancy," He explained, his voice calm but filled with concern. After a brief sigh, he continued, this time with a darker tone. "Unfortunately, I must warn you of the risks. Giving birth to two babies... It’s dangerous. There’s a good chance you won’t survive the birth."

His words hit you like a blow. Your eyes widened, and the room seemed to close in around you. To die in childbirth. In ancient times. It sounded like a sentence you never imagined you would face. Terror settled in your chest, and for a moment it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could utter a word, another voice cut through the silence.

"I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

It was Perdiccas, his imposing figure appearing in the doorway of the room. His tone was calm, but filled with disapproval as he fixed the doctor with a hard stare. His eyes flashed, as if ready to squelch any further attempts to alarm her. "My Queen is already terrified enough. We don’t need your unnecessary comments."

His presence filled the space, and you felt a mixture of relief and discomfort. Perdiccas had always been a complex figure in your life — protective and, at the same time, charged with an authority that sometimes felt overwhelming. Yet his words, even as a reprimand to the doctor, brought a strange sense of security. As if, for a moment, he was willing to carry the weight you feared to face alone.

The doctor hesitated, clearly disconcerted, but bowed his head in deference. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It was merely a warning." He gathered his things quickly, as if to avoid any further confrontation with Perdiccas, and bowed out.

Now, only the two of you remained in the room. Perdiccas approached slowly, his eyes softening as they landed on you. "I will not let anything happen to you," He said, his voice lower and firmer, like a promise he seemed determined to keep.

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words. There was something in Perdiccas’ tone, in the firmness of his promise, that seemed sincere. Maybe it was the vulnerability that enveloped you, making him an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of uncertainty. Or maybe it was the old feelings, the ones you tried to bury, but that now resurfaced, stubborn and undeniable, creating cracks in the armor you had built over time.

He was there, close enough for his presence to warm the cold room, and for a brief moment, you felt a security that you hadn’t experienced in months. Against all the reasons your mind tried to list, you found yourself trusting Perdiccas once again, as if his promise were a rope pulling you out of the abyss.

Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

You just hoped you wouldn't regret it a second time.

Alexander was determined: he would only take Roxanna as his wife if he had the consent of (Y/N), his beloved and first wife, from whom fate had separated him. He knew that to unite with another woman without (Y/N)'s knowledge and permission would be the same as betraying the deep feelings he still harbored for her. It was a line that Alexander was not willing to cross. Acting in the shadows, making decisions that could hurt or dishonor (Y/N), would be an act he would never forgive himself for. The respect and love he had for her were unshakable, and even in the face of difficult circumstances, he was determined to honor them above all else.

But before any decision about Roxanna could be made, he had to recover (Y/N). There was no other path to follow while she was still beyond his reach. Alexander had already made his decision: he would leave for Babylon immediately. No matter the challenges, he was willing to face them.

He would mobilize his army for the mission, for he knew that no effort would be too great to rescue his beloved. He trusted his generals and soldiers completely, loyal men who had always followed him, and it would be no different this time. When he communicated his determination, he was certain that they would support him without hesitation, understanding that, for Alexander, the search for (Y/N) was not only a matter of love, but of honor.

"Call the generals immediately." Alexander's firm voice echoed through the room. The page, without wasting time, bowed hurriedly and ran off to carry out the order.

Alexander was alone for a moment, but his mind was far from there. He could almost smell (Y/N)'s perfume, that delicate and unmistakable aroma that had enveloped him so many times. He seemed to hear the soft melody of her laughter in the background and feel the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin. It was as if the memory of her was more alive than ever, calling him to action.

Finally, he would be going after her. There would be no more delay, doubts or hesitations. Every step he took now would bring him closer to (Y/N), and nothing in the world could stop him from bringing her back.

''I'm coming for you, my Queen.''

— lady l: maybe a shorter chapter but that's because it's like a preparation for chapter 19 and especially 20. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

See you a in the next chapter! I'll probably post the next this weekend, though. It's practically ready. 😉

Also, expect a lot of drama to come! Alexander is coming to Babylon!! 😚

[darkbluekies]

Dr kry x nurse reader

Like imagine nurse reader was college student wanted to be a nurse to learn some medicine or help people sick and taking care old people

Sea sick

Doctor!yandere OC x nurse!reader

Summary: being the only one to be granted as Dr Kry’s apprentice on board a hospital ship ends in tragedy

Warning: yandere, sinking ships (fictional ship and incident), poisoning, indirect killing, mentions of dead bodies and autopsies, blood, sharp objects

Word count: 8k

A/N: a lot of people hav wanted a story where darling is a nurse and I have tried writing it so many times over a year, but haven't been able yo. So I tried changing location and it seemed to work, so it is not exactly what was asked, but I hope that it is enjoyable anyway!

He stands on the promenade deck, watching out over the harbor, breathing in the fresh air. People carried on stretchers catch his eyes. 

He used to get sea sick during his first weeks out at sea. There was something about how the ship rocked back and forth during the stormy days that made his stomach turn inside out and want to eject the food he had eaten. But now that he's been here for three months, it's barely noticeable. He hasn't thrown up for three weeks. A new record. 

He has grown to like the rocking motion of the sea, but doesn’t care much for the people he shares the ship with. The female nurses try to invite him into their cabins, the male nurses fight over who will be his apprentice and the doctors either watch him with jealousy or ignore him. It’s only for a few more months, until he has saved up enough money. Until everything is over. 

They’ve just picked up a town hall full amount of wounded soldiers and new nurses. Doctor Kry has heard that his new trainee will be among them. He scans the crowd of people walking towards the gangway, trying to guess which one will be his to deal with. He hopes that they are obedient — he has no interest in scolding them — and that they aren’t stupid. 

“Watching the fresh blood?” a voice asks. 

He turns to the side to see one of the other doctors coming out to look at the new herd. Doctor Hart is an asshole, always in everyone’s business. One could almost think that he was getting paid for it. 

“You could say that”, Doctor Kry replies shortly. 

“How many dead, do you think?”

Doctor Kry let his eyes wander over the crowd below. 

“Fifty, maybe”, he says. 

It’s a cruel game, he knows that, to guess how many won’t survive the trip to the mainland. But he doesn’t know how to converse with the other doctors unless he joins in on their sad games. 

Sometimes, he plays with the nurses out on deck. There’s all sorts of games tucked away in boxes, ready to be taken out whenever.

“I heard that your trainee will be among those”, Doctor Hart says and nods down at the group of waiting people. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“I don’t know”, Doctor Kry replies shortly and stops leaning on the railing. “I should go find out.”

He doesn’t wait to hear the reply. He’s not sure where to go for his trainee to find him, but he decides to go to his cabin — if not to be at a static place, then to get away from everyone. Him getting a trainee must be the only hot topic they have. 

He navigates the white naked steel corridors to get to his cabin. It’s hard to believe that this naked ship should be covered with polished oak panels, golden details and expensive paintings. None of that can be afforded to be lost, in case the ship is sunk. 

They have lifeboat drills every morning to make sure that everyone on board knows what to do. Since they rotate staff often, those drills need to be done. They’re boring, but handy. 

The ship is nothing more than an empty shell of what she’s supposed to be, stripped of anything that gives her personality. All that’s left is bare necessities, nothing for pleasure.

He opens his door and walks in. The room is small and only contains a bed and a desk, the walls bare steel. It has a rectangular window overlooking the forecastle and he can’t help but think that he has gotten one of the best cabins on the ship. He knows that doctors, officers — both military and ship — and a handful of passengers, get better cabins than  the wounded or nurses. 

Doctor Kry sits down by the table and opens his notebook to write. He has time to finish two pages before there is a knock on the door. It’s a drastic knock, as if the person on the other side of the door is either nervous or eagerly excited. He stands up, not knowing what to expect as he opens the door. Outside stands a young thing, with their hands clasped in front of them. You take him by surprise. You’re not what he expected — but then again, what had he been expecting?

“Are you Doctor Kry?” you ask. 

“Yes, I am”, he replies. 

“I’m told that I am your apprentice.”

He lets his eyes wander over you. You seem so … small? You’re younger than he had thought, and there’s something naive about you. He can’t help but wonder what events has led you to end up here. 

He realizes that he can’t have you standing out in the corridor forever and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You walk past him into the small room and look around. 

“You have a better cabin than I do”, you say with a small — nervous — laugh, as if to bring some kind of humanity into the conversation. It’s as if you want to skip right past the awkward small talk. You grimace. “I have to share a cabin with five others. We only have a small porthole.”

Doctor Kry closes the door. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Oh, sorry”, you reply quickly, eyes widening with realization. “Y/N.”

Doctor Kry can’t help but tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Are you always this light-headed, Y/N?” he asks.

You look down in embarrassment. 

“No, doctor”, you say. “I am just nervous. I haven’t done anything like this before. Sorry, doctor.”

“Sit down.”

You look around for somewhere to sit and end up on his neatly fixed bed. Doctor Kry sits down on his chair by his desk. You fiddle with your hands in your lap as your eyes follow him. 

“You’re going to be my trainee, which means that you have to listen to me at all times”, Doctor Kry says. “The medical field is a profession that requires precision. One faulty move and someone could die. Is that clear?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I’m responsible for you, so I don’t want you doing anything stupid, do you get that? No breaking rules, no stupid behavior.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He stretches his neck. 

“This doesn’t have to do with you but I will tell you this anyway, in case it should occur”, he says stiffly. “If any of the other nurses give you any trouble, you’ll come tell me right away, understood?”

“Yes doctor”, you reply. 

“Good. In that case, let's get started. A lot of people have boarded the ship today, and we need to check up on them. You might have thought that you’d get a day to settle in, but that’s not how we do things here. On board, things can happen at any hour of the day and you need to be prepared.”

You nod. 

“Good”, he says, pleased. “Let’s go then, we have work to do.”

When he stands, so do you. He walks towards the door and so do you. You follow him through the corridors like a puppy, in silence. You don’t say anything. Maybe this will work for him after all?

You come out to the main staircase, a pathetic excuse of what it should be, and walk up a flight of stairs. What should be the lounge is now an operating theater and bedroom to wounded soldiers. He can hear you draw a breath as you walk in. The smell must hit you, he guesses, the smell of pain and blood. 

You follow him around the open room as he talks to different men and women who have all kinds of painful injuries and sickness symptoms. You’re quiet behind him. When he’s done with his round, he takes you out onto the promenade to get you some fresh air. You hold onto the wooden railing. 

“That can be unpleasant”, he says, leaning onto the railing beside you with his elbows. “Especially if it is one's first time. You’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to expect”, you reply. “I knew that it would be … bad … I just didn’t know what type. Tomorrow will be better. Now I know what to expect.”

You give him a small smile. Don’t give up on me yet, I will prove myself to you. You are weirdly cute. 

“Why are you here if you lack so much experience?” he asks.

“Good question”, you sigh. “Money problems, I suppose. My family has it rough.”

“How long will you be here?”

“A few months, until I've saved enough money.”

Doctor Kry nods. “Same here.”

“Is life on board tiresome?” you wonder. “What do you do out on sea?”

“Some play deck games, some write, draw or read”, Doctor Kry says. “Some spend time with the wounded. Everyone comes up with different activities.”

“I would like to explore the ship, see what the home I will have for the coming months contains.”

“If you want I can give you a tour.”

“Really? Thank you, I would love that.”

You follow the doctor inside again. He decides to start from the bottom of the beast and show you up to the very top.

The orlop deck is the one right above the boilers. The two of you shouldn't wander further below, in case of danger. The orlop deck contains a mailroom and the cargo hold. It's chilly inside the ominous cargo room. Wooden boxes stand in groups.

“These contain everything from weapons to medical equipment to food and alcohol”, Doctor Kry says and taps the top of a wooden box. “Some people — of the military staff, I've been told — sneak down here to steal some of it. I wouldn't advise you to explore down here. The ones you'll meet will most likely be drunk beyond measure and not trustable.”

“I understand”, you say.

“That being said, let's go upstairs.”

G-deck is filled with bunk beds, rows and rows of them. Walls that used to separate cabins have been demolished and left are the marks on the floors where they should stand. People are in bed, either sleeping or chatting with each other. They’re wearing bandage.

F-deck was the same as G-deck, filled with bunk beds and cabins. 

E-deck has a pool with crystal clear water. It’s a simple pool, only there for exercise. It used to have much more detailing, a children’s part of the pool and some children’s floating toys. 

“It would be nice to swim here”, you say. “After long hours of standing.”

“I think it is nice”, Doctor Kry says. “I haven’t used the pool yet. I think it’s seawater but, like I said, I haven’t tried the pool yet.”

Before he has time to think, you’ve crouched down, sunk your cupped hand into the water and taken a lick. Doctor Kry gasps and twitches forward.

“What are you doing?” he questions. 

“It is seawater”, you say. 

He grabs your wrist, pulls you up on your feet and shakes your hands free of the water.

“That is disgusting, do not do that again”, he says sternly.

You laugh slightly, meeting his eyes. Doctor Kry shakes his head, but has to restrain himself to not smile. 

“Get out”, he says, nodding at the door. 

You walk before him. Your youthful behavior is going to wear him down. 

D-deck has more dim corridors than the others you’ve explored. Doctor Kry stops in front of a steel door with his hand resting on the handle. 

“This room is the morgue”, he says slowly. “I don’t expect you to like this room, but I do expect you to treat it with respect. Don’t do anything ‘fun’ here, like you did in the pool. Understood?”

You nod. Doctor Kry opens the door. A chilly wind blows through you. You hug yourself. The room is colder than the winds up on deck and you look at Doctor Kry to see if he’s also feeling the cold. Along the walls of the room are numbered hatches. You don’t need him to explain what is inside them. Doctor Kry opens a door to the right, showing a small room with an operating table on it. 

“Have you ever performed an autopsy?” you ask. 

“Many times”, he responds and closes the door. 

“Do they get … easier every time?”

“Easier? I wouldn’t say easier, but you learn to shut off your brain. You’ll learn that too while working here.”

He walks you out of the morgue. D-deck also contains even more wards. 

C-deck has the first class dining saloon, now nothing more than a school cafeteria. The tables are simple, the chairs looking uncomfortable. A few men sit by a table eating. Doctor Kry is quick to get you out. 

B-deck has more cabins and open wards, along with an enclosed promenade deck filled with beds, where patients can rest in fresh air. There’s nothing left of the verandah cafe, the suites have been emptied and the hairdresser doesn’t have the equipment that it once had. 

A-deck is the only deck on the ship left with some of her old personality. The lounge has some armchairs and couches and the smoking room still has the painted glass windows. You look at the painted mermaid on the window. 

“It’s beautiful”, you say. 

“It is”, Doctor Kry says. “I think it has something to do with Greek mythology, but I haven’t asked.”

The enclosed promenade deck the two of you had been on is on the same deck. Boat deck, on the other hand, has nothing enclosed. Nothing to shield anyone from wind or rain. Rows upon rows of lifeboats stand in their davits, collapsible ones are positioned on the roofs for easy access. 

“Okay, I think you’ve seen it all”, Doctor Kry says and sighs. “Not much, as you can see. Majority of it have been removed in case anything would happen to the ship.”

“Is there a risk of something happening?”

“The ship is painted white with a green line and big, red crosses. People know better than to sink a hospital ship.”

“But at night you can’t see what color the ship is painted.”

“I assure you that has been thought of. I will show you. Meet me at my cabin at sunset.”

“Okay.”

You knock at his door as the sun is resting on the horizon. Doctor Kry stands up from his chair a bit too quickly.

“Good evening”, you say. “I’m here.”

“So you are”, he replies and grabs his beige coat. “Let’s go, we can get dinner afterwards.”

You follow him out to the main staircase and up to the boat deck. The red shade above you is fading into dark blue skies. Wherever you look, nothing breaks it. You follow Doctor Kry to the stern where you have a good view of the ship. A strand of green light lights up the side of the ship, big spotlights turned to the red crosses. The green light gives your face a magical shade, one which makes the doctor stare at you when you’re not looking. 

“You can sleep soundly”, he says. “As you can see, there are lights showing other ships what we are. Now, how about some food?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of you walk back inside and make your way down to the dining hall. You don’t say anything, but the way your hand travels the railing down the main staircase makes him smile. 

You get a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Doctor Kry leads you to a table full of doctors where he always sits. Not because he likes their company, but because he doesn’t want to sit with the immature nurses. 

“So this is your apprentice?” Doctor Hart says, eyeing you. 

“Yes”, Doctor Kry replies. 

You sit down beside him. 

“I’m Y/N”, you say, remembering how you had forgotten to introduce yourself to Kry earlier. “

“You are a voluntary nurse, right?” a doctor asks. 

“Yes.”

“What training do you have?”

“The absolute minimum, sir. I didn't have time to learn more before being sent here.”

“That’s why they’re my apprentice”, Doctor Kry says before anyone else has time to say something that could invalidate your lack of knowledge. “I’m supposed to train them.”

“You have gotten an unfortunate fit, Y/N”, Doctor Hart says jokingly. “Kry is a good doctor, but probably the most boring man I have ever come across.”

You frown, looking between him and your mentor. 

“I wouldn’t say that”, you say slowly. 

Doctor Kry looks at you with a small smile before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“If you ever get tired of this boring man, I could always use a trainee”, Doctor Hart says with a small smirk. 

The other doctors laugh. You give them a small, uncomfortable smile.

“Let them be”, Doctor Kry says warningly. “You don't have to be an ass to the newcomers.”

He turns away from them, looking at you. 

“Don’t listen to them”, he whispers.

“Okay”, you reply quietly and give him a thankful smile.

He spends the rest of the dinner conversing with you, completely ignoring the other doctors. He asks you about your family life, the members in it, what your favorite memory is. For the first time in months, he's had a purposeful conversation, one he won't forget the second he leaves the dining hall. You've only been here less than a day and yet you've managed to put color in this white steel beast.

“I shouldn't keep you”, he says suddenly. “I suppose that you're tired. You should rest. I will see you tomorrow morning. Will you find your way to your cabin?”

“I think so”, you smile. “Thank you.”

“Be at my door at seven tomorrow morning.”

You nod. Doctor Kry gives you a small nod before walking away. His heart pounds in his chest, already looking forward to tomorrow morning.

Days go by. You spend every waking hour with your mentor, following him like a dog. You don't get why everyone else calls him strict, why some pity you for having him. And some pity themselves for not being picked. It's a weird feeling, you find, that everyone has a divided opinion of you and you have no idea who thinks what. All eyes on you, and none seem to be in your favor.

Doctor Kry is awoken by knocking on his door. Still in his drowsy state can he recognize the pattern. You have a unique sense of knocking. The darkness still covers the sky.

You're standing outside, wet to the bone, wearing your pajamas and a guilty look in your eyes.

“You told me to tell you right away”, you say quickly. “I'm not sure if you meant that literally but … I have nowhere else to go.”

Your voice dies out. Doctor Kry frowns, looking at your wet form up and down.

“What happened?” he asks suspiciously.

“They locked me out.”

“What are you talking about? Who locked you out?”

“The other nurses.”

What?

“Why are you wet?”

“They threw water on me and threw me out of the room. I-I guess that it was a joke but … I didn’t really … find it funny …”

He can tell that you're shivering, although you're trying your best not to show it. It makes him unexplainably furious.  

“Come inside”, he says and steps aside.

He's quick to grab his towel from his trunk and wrap it around you. You sit down on his chair.

“Did they say anything to you?” he asks. 

“Not from what I heard”, you reply quietly, shaking slightly. “Everything went on so quickly. I barely had time to wake up before I found myself in the corridor.”

“They threw you?” Doctor Kry asks, trying to understand. 

“Grabbed me by my arms and threw me out.”

“You must have hit the opposite wall in the corridor.”

“It’s fine.”

He feels his heart tug. His poor little apprentice, getting thrown around like trash. He knew that the nurses were assholes, but he is appalled that none of them even tried to befriend you. He knows that it’s because of him. In some way shape or form, it always leads back to him. It’s his responsibility to take care of you now. And, like hell, he’ll do it.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes to start with”, he says and removes the towel from around your body. “You’ll get sick if you keep them on any longer.”

He helps you remove them and dress you in his spare pajamas, offering you his bed. 

“Don’t go back to that room”, he says. 

“Why?”

“I feel like I am responsible for you and that’s why I can’t let you back there.”

“What do I do then?”

It’s such a simple question, but it makes him feel even more determined to take care of you. You’re asking him how to proceed. You trust him enough to let him decide what should happen to you. It’s enough to make him hear his heart in his ears. 

“You’ll stay here for the night, and I will decide what to do with you in the morning”, he says and removes the cover of the bed. “Why don’t you go to bed while I get you a hot cup of tea?”

“Okay, thank you, doctor”, you say quietly. 

“Of course.”

He smiles as he walks out, but the second he closes the door he feels a pain in his heart. He has been with you for two weeks by now and every day has been a pleasure. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this excited to work. Every meal, he spends it with you. He plays deck games with you on your breaks and play board games in the lounge at night. You’re interesting to him without being annoying. Everyone else gets on his nerves, being too much, too loud, too clingy and too … much. You, somehow, seem to be just perfect in every category. It’s such a rare trait for him to find. He doesn’t care that no one else understands it —  on the contrary, he finds it great that he is the only one you spend your time with — but he hates that the others are childish enough to mess with you because of it. 

Sea air must bring even the sanest people to madness. 

The morgue flashes before his eyes and he stops right in his tracks. He wants to. Oh, how he wants to. But there’s no way that he could play it off. On a secluded place like a ship, there was no place to hide a crime. Nowhere to flee if he did get caught. He’ll figure it out, though. They won’t go unpunished. 

He gets the cup of tea and makes his way back to the cabin.

“Drink this”, he says and holds the cup to your lips. “This should warm you up.”

He notices how you’re trying to take the cup from him, but he won't let you. Wants to feed you. You drink slowly. 

“What do I do from now on?” you ask. 

“Well, firstly, I will talk to your roommates”, the doctor says. “Tomorrow morning. You can take my bed, I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, I can’t do that. I’ve troubled you enough, doctor.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tucks you in and opens his trunk to take out a shirt to use as a pillow. 

“Doctor, please”, you say. “I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be absurd. Enough of this, now go to sleep.”

There’s no use in fighting him, he will not budge. You try to lay as still as you can, but it’s hard to drift off to sleep. You’re unaware that Kry is awake as well, having an even harder time getting some rest. The only thing he can think of is how angry he is at those nurses … but also a particular happiness. They sent you his way. In an unofficial way they sent you right into his clutches. 

The very next morning, he awakens to find you there, in his bed, sleeping peacefully. He stares at you. There is something so heavenly about you. Something alive, among all this death and suffering. 

He changes into his uniform before walking through the ominous corridors of your room. His knock must have echoed in the room because he can hear a few surprised gasps.

He recognizes the tired face that opens.

“If you don't mind, I'll grab Y/N’s things”, he says and, before waiting for a response, pushes past into the room, hitting their shoulder intentionally. “Where are they?”

“Under that bunk bed.”

He follows the pointed finger and grabs a brown bag. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, you know”, he says without changing his normal calm tone. “I thought nurses were supposed to be caring, but what do I know? I never spend time with them. And now I see that it was with good reason.”

“What makes you so special?” one of the nurses scoffs. “There are a lot of doctors people would choose before you too.”

“I'm aware of that, and I'm very thankful for it. But you shouldn't forget that there is a hierarchy on board. I might not fall for your charms, but I can still get you downgraded to kitchen staff.”

He walks out. You're still sleeping when he returns to his cabin and he decides to go get you breakfast.

“Wake up”, he says and places the tray on the desk. “I've gotten you breakfast.”

“Really?” you ask and sit up. “Thank you so much. And thank you for letting me stay here.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives you a cup of coffee. 

“I brought your things”, he says. “I don’t think that you should go back to that room at all. I will try to get you into another cabin.”

“Oh”, you say. “Thank you.”

“You say awfully many ‘thank you’s.”

“Well, you do awfully many nice things for me.”

He tries not to show how happy he gets, but his ears burn a crimson red. You get out of bed and walk over to your bag, looking around for something. 

“I want to give you something”, you say and hold your hands behind your back. 

“What?” asks. 

You take out a little porcelain dog, a spitting image of a Golden Retriever. 

“I don’t have much”, you say, “but I really value this little thing. Take it.”

“No”, Doctor Kry says simply. 

“I don’t have anything else.”

“Which is why I can’t take it.”

“Please?”

He looks at the little dog in your hands and the pleading look in your eyes. His hand reach out and take it in his hand, knowing that he won’t keep it. He will find a way to give it back to you at a later time. But he has to accept it for now so that you don’t feel stupid. 

He places it on his desk and gives you the cup of coffee again. 

“What will we work with today?” you ask. 

“We’re picking up some new people.”

Everytime they pick up new people, he’s reminded of your limited time. One day, sooner than desired, you will walk off the gangway … and someone will take your place. No. Never. He doesn't want anyone else other than you.

Among the newcomers, you find a child. The six year old boy seems to like running along the big ship's decks. 

You and Kry observe him from the promenade boat above.

“Why is there a child?” you ask. “Isn’t it dangerous to let a little boy run around?”

“His parents must either be military, a nurse or wounded”, Doctor Kry replies.

You let go of the railing. Doctor Kry follows you with his eyes as you make your way down to the boy. You introduce yourself, take his little hand and ask him for his. Nicholas. You play with him. Doctor Kry can’t look away. You’re a natural with children. The little boy seems to have genuinely fun with you. You’re running along the deck, back and forth. You pretend to have a hard time catching up with him, making Doctor Kry smile. He’s not much for children. They’re loud, unpredictable and lack consequence-think. He hates all of it. But you seem to have a natural talent for it. The boy seem so comfortable with you. It’s adorable. 

“Doctor!” you shout. 

“What?” he replies without raising his voice. 

“Come down, let’s play something!” 

He sighs and lets go of the railing before making his way down to you and Nicholas. 

“This is doctor Kry”, you tell the boy. “He won’t bite you.”

“Bite?” Doctor Kry scoffs. “Since when have I ever bitten someone?”

“That’s what I’m saying — you won’t bite him.”

“I never bite to begin with.”

“That’s what I’m saying, so what are you arguing about?”

“Y/N- … nevermind, I’m getting nowhere.”

You laugh. He shakes his head disapprovingly, but his heart aches fondly. You’re like an annoying fly buzzing around, but he doesn’t want to kill you. 

You play curling on the deck and you throw lamely to let the little boy win. He tries to match it, tries to follow your lead. 

The image doesn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day. The only thing he sees is you with the little boy. 

“Doctor, be careful!”

He doesn’t notice how he’s slipped with the scalpel and cut himself in the palm. With a hiss, he backs away from the man on the operating table. You grab his other arm and pulls him with you. His head is awfully cloudy. The only thing he sees in front of him is your smile when you played with the boy. 

“Sit here”, you say and place him down on a chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yes … yes, I’m fine”, he says and clears his throat. 

You clean his hand and wrap it in bandage. Your touch makes him want to pass out. But it also makes him want to yell in frustration. How could he slip up that easily? He has never been distracted during an autopsy and suddenly seeing you with a child puts him out of balance enough for him to slip the knife?

“You need to be careful”, you tell him.

“I know”, he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t enjoy hurting myself.”

“I didn’t mean that, I know you’re careful, I just-”

He realizes that he’s made a mistake. 

“I know”, he says, cutting you of before sighing heavily and continuing in defeat. “I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not angry with you.”

He could never be. If anything, he’s furious at himself. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. 

You let go of his bandaged hand. 

“It should be okay now”, you say. “But I don’t think that you should go back.”

“I won’t”, he says. “They need a steady hand and clearly my isn’t.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, doctor. It happens to the best of us.”

He sighs and stands up, keeping his eyes on a point above your head. 

“Let’s go out”, he says stiffly and clenches his jaw. “I need air.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you ask. 

His reply comes short. “Just come.”

You nod and hurry after him out on deck. His entire body screams anger. You don’t dare to open your mouth, scared to upset him even more. Instead, you follow him like a shadow around the promenade deck. He suddenly stops and looks at you, as if he just only realized that you are still here. You back away a few steps to give him space. He flinches forward, as if his body wants to walk over to you, but his brain stops him. He wants to hug you. Wants so bad. But it is not professional. 

“Maybe i should go”, you say. “I think that you need some alone time to think. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“No, wait”, he says and grabs your arm. “Don’t leave.”

You look at him questionably. 

“Let’s just sit”, he says and pulls you over to the deck chairs. 

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” you ask hesitantly. “You seem a bit on edge.”

“It’s not directed at you”, he says.

“Okay, but you’re still upset. I know that you hurt yourself, but it’s okay, it’ll heal quickly.”

“It’s not just that.”

He never makes mistakes. He never slips up. You’re becoming dangerous for him.

“Do you want to tell me?” you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It’s cute how worried you are about him. He gives you a smile. 

It feels like a dagger through the heart when you tell him that it is your last week on board. What do you mean that you’re going home? You just came here. His mind spins as he tries to come up with something. He needs you here on this boat — or wherever he is — to work properly. Both figuratively and literally. He feels like he performs better, both in the operating theater and as a human. 

The cut on his hand has healed by now, but he can still feel the burning sensation of your fingers against his skin. He can’t — won't — forget it. He kept the bandage, despite the blood on it.

You need to be kept here … and he needs to come up with a solution on how to keep you. He could make you trip down the stairs and have you break a leg. No, you could still return home with broken bones. He could tie you up and lock you in, but if you screamed loud enough someone would hear you through the thin steel walls. You need to blend in. How does one blend in, in a floating prison with wounded people. 

Oh. Of course.

He makes his way to the medical supply room, looking around for something — anything — that he can use. He finds a little green bottle. You shouldn’t drink it straight away, but if he dilutes it in water, it should be fine. 

He decides to mix some of the dangerous substance in your tea the following mornings. For the first few days, there seem to be no symptoms of his little poisoning. Until the fourth morning when you’re not at his door when he expects you. He gets himself dressed and out of the room, marching down to your new — own — cabin. He knocks on the door. 

“Y/N, are you awake?” he asks. 

“Yes”, he hears your voice through the door, your voice thick and hoarse. 

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He opens the door. You’re lying in the bed, curled up with your arms over your stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You shake your head weakly. “Not well. My stomach really hurts … I think that I’m going to throw up. I haven’t been able to go get a bucket so I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

He leaves the room. Out in the corridor, he can’t help but smile. It’s finally kicking in. He had been worried that it wouldn’t work until you had left the ship … where he can’t care for you. He gets a clean bucket from a storage closet and returns. 

“Let’s get you up right”, he says and helps you sit up. 

The motion alone is enough to have you throwing up. He places the bucket under your mouth, letting you empty yourself. 

“I’m sorry”, you hiccup. 

“It’s okay”, he replies. 

“I don’t think I can work today.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

He opens the window and sits down by the desk. 

“You don’t have to stay here”, you say weakly, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine”, the doctor says. “I can see that. You took care of me, now I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s different. I just put on bandage.”

“So? You weren’t skilled for more. I am, and I intend to put my knowledge to use.” 

He stands up abruptly, deciding to start right away. 

“Let’s get you some fresh air”, he says. “This open window won’t do.”

“Doctor, I can’t move”, you say, eyes widening. “I-I’ve tried, but I-I … I can’t.”

He frowns. Has he done too much? 

“My stomach hurts so much and my limbs don’t seem to want to move.”

“It’ll be okay”, he says shortly and lifts you up in his arms. “I’ll do the moving for you.”

He walks slowly along the decks, so as not to make your nausea even more unbearable. He walks out to the enclosed promenade where rows of beds stand along the walls and places you down in one of them, making sure to get you in the sunlight. With a smile, he tucks you in.

“Some fresh air and sunlight will do you good”, he says and sits down on the side of the bed. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? I suppose you haven’t had much this night. I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be safe.”

You nod and make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

“It’s hard to not be nauseous when the ship moves so much”, you mumble. 

“I have the bucket, you can vomit as much as you’d like”, he says. 

“In that case I won’t vomit at all. Because I don’t want to.”

Doctor Kry scoffs with a smile. 

“I know”, he says. “Try to rest now.”

He sits by your side until you’ve fallen asleep. You are so unbelievably sweet. In every single way. Doctor Kry stands up to go empty the bucket. He walks out the enclosed promenade, out onto the open deck and throws the contains over the side. 

“What’s with your apprentice?” Doctor Hart asks, walking over to him with his hands in his pockets. “Rumour says that they’re sick.”

“Yes, they are”, he says shortly. 

“Weren’t they going home this week?”

Do not remind me.

“They were”, he says, even colder. “Not anymore. I can’t let them go back if they have some kind of sickness. Better for them to be isolated here where it can’t spread far.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Yes, very. I think that you should stay away from them — tell everyone else to be cautious and keep distance as well.”

He grimaces and quickly backs away from him, walking away. Doctor Kry smirks and shakes his head. 

And you consider yourself smart enough to be a doctor? 

“What are you doing?”

The little boy is back. Nicholas stands a few steps behind him, watching curiously. 

“I’m emptying a bucket”, Doctor Kry answers, trying not to sound short and cold like usual. You like this kid and if he’s impolite to him, he’s sure he’ll hear about it from you. 

“Why?”

“Because there was vomit in it.”

“Ew! Did you get seasick?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, not me. Y/N’s not feeling well.”

“Is Y/N sick?”

“Yes.”

He looks worried. His best friend isn’t feeling well? Doctor Kry sighs. 

“Do you want to come and meet them later?” he asks. “They’re resting right now but you can come visit when they’re awake again.”

“When is that?” Nicholas asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“How will I know then?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t wait to hear more dumb questions. Doctor Kry walks straight back to the enclosed promenade and places the bucket by the bed. He sits down by your legs and takes your hand. 

A few days go by. He continuous to poison your tea, and help you throw up. When your body doesn’t want to do it anymore, when it’s too exhausted to work for your benefit, he has to help. 

“Alright, open your mouth”, he says, brushing any type of hair away from your face. “This will not be pleasant, but I need you to throw up, okay?”

You sit beside him on the bed with the bucket in your lap, hugging it tightly. Your unsure grimace is enough to answer. 

“I know”, he sighs. “It’ll be quick. It won’t hurt.”

“Okay”, you mumble and nod, opening your mouth. 

He reaches in with his fingers until they touch the soft part of the back of the mouth. Your mouth is warm and soft, making him feel light headed. As soon as you gag, he pulls his fingers away. You hover over the bucket for the thirteenth time in twenty four hours. Doctor Kry pats your back. 

“There you go”, he says. “See? Quick and easy.”

“Easy?” you cough, giving him a stern eye. “Nowhere near easy.”

“Okay, maybe not easy. Bad wording. But it’s over now. Good job, I’m proud of you.”

A sad smile appears on your face. You lean your head onto his shoulder, sighing in exhaustion. Doctor Kry tenses. His heart stops. 

“I’m so tired”, you whisper. “My body hurts.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Your scent clogs up his head. 

“I should be home by now”, you whisper. 

“I know”, doctor Kry whispers comfortingly. 

You break out into sobs. Doctor Kry swallows. He can imagine how you must feel. Body broken and unresponsive, not back home with your family like you had planned and anticipated … and you can’t do anything to stop it. Doctor Kry turns your body to him and hugs you. Holding you feels like heaven. You fit perfectly in his arms, as if you were made for him, and him only. You were born to be his.

“I'm sorry if this is unprofessional”, you mumble. 

“It's okay, you're sick”, he replies thickly

He closes his eyes, enjoying the embrace. It’s everything he could — and have — ever dreamt of. His own little patient, in his arms, where they belong. Only for him. Oh, God, he can never let you go. You will be here for as long as he is, and then he’ll take you back home to him. Whether you like it or not.

“I’m cold.”

“I'll go get you some more blankets.”

He dreads to let you go but he can't deny your request. Your warmth disappears from his embrace. 

He decides to hurry, wanting to get back to you as quickly as possible. As he walks down the main staircase, he feels the entire ship shudder and hear a loud ‘bang’. He has to grab onto the staircase railing to not fall over. The sound of porcelain crashing onto the floor in the distance hits him. He hurries down.

A man covered in soot runs past him. One of the men from the boiler room.

“The ship is flooding!” he shouts in full panic. “We're sinking!”

Doctor Kry widens his eyes. There's no way, right? They're a hospital ship! No one in their right mind would sink a hospital ship! His mind forgets the blanket. He needs a lifebelt. Not a blanket. 

He runs past the room where you had stayed first, and he can see the nurses inside trying to scramble their belongings into small purses. Without thinking, he marches over, shuts the door and grabs the nearest fire extinguisher to break the lock. He throws the fire extinguisher to the side and hurries down the corridor, opening the first door he finds. It's a cabin for female nurses. He reaches over one of the bunk beds, to a net where lifebelts Are kept. He pulls down two and runs out. 

The floor has started to shift beneath him. He can tell that it tilts to his left. She's going down by the stern.

He runs up the stairs, trying to push his way through a flood of people desperately climbing upwards. He wants to shout at them, but it won't matter. No one else will listen or care. Instead, he uses force to push himself through the crowd.

He has to get to you before anything happens. There's no certainty in how much time there is, but there is a certainty of death if he doesn't hurry up. 

He runs through packed corridors, ripping open your door.

“What's going on?” you ask with wide eyes.

There's something horrific with your fearful eyes. Everything about you is dull and tired, besides your panicking eyes. 

“We've been hit”, he says in a steady voice and forces the white lifebelt over your head, tying it tightly around your body. “We need to get to a lifeboat as quickly as possible.”

“What?” you ask in shock. “What happened? You said that we were okay, that nothing would happen to a hospital ship!”

He doesn't answer. If he does, he's worried that he'll snap at you. Instead, he lifts you up and carries you out of the room. He makes sure not to trip, but carrying you through tilted spaces is harder than he expects. Giving up is not an option, however.

The boat deck is crowded. He manages to get through to a lifeboat and sits down with you in his arms.

“I’m scared”, you whisper.

“It's okay”, the doctor whispers back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He holds you tightly when the lifeboat slowly sinks towards the water, scared that you might fall off. 

Seeing the ship from afar as the lifeboat makes its way away from it finally puts things together in your head. You gasp. You had been on that … and if Kry hadn't come get you you would still be on it, waiting for death.

The bow slowly rises out of the water, dripping with water. The sun shines right on it, as if it is the ocean’s main attraction. The room where doctor Kry locked in the nurses is far underwater by now. He hides a smirk under his hand. He had promised that they would be punished for what they had done. They'd have a chance if they hadn't been childish.

“I never thought that I’d see something like this”, you say. “I never wanted to see the bottom of a ship.”

“Me neither”, the doctor replies. 

“Will many die?”

“No, not many. I’m sure of it.”

You creep closer to him, shivering although you don’t feel any cold winds. He holds you tighter. 

The only thing left of the floating hospital is a steamy, bubbling mess, filled with debris. It’s like you can hear her hit the ocean floor. You can’t help but wonder what position she is in, if you’ll ever get to know. If anyone ever will dive down and check. If that will be possible.

“It’s so silent”, you whisper and meet his blue eyes. “It shouldn’t be silent … should it?”

“I don’t know”, he replies. “What is the other choice? People screaming?”

You shake your head quickly. Don’t want to imagine that.

Hours go by. When the evening comes, you’re picked up by another ship and given blankets and food. Doctor Kry stays close to you, not letting anyone get close. He sits in a protective position beside you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning everything and everyone around him. 

The little boy clings to a woman who you guess is his mother. He doesn’t seem to understand what has happened, how lucky he is, and you hope that he never will.

“What will happen now?” you wonder quietly.

“I will continue to care for you until you are well”, he says. “That’s what will happen. I will take care of the rest, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just lean on me and everything will be alright, okay?”

You nod. Doctor Kry smiles and straightens his neck. 

“Good.”

You look up at the colorful evening sky and sighs. No one died this day — apart from a few nurses who doctor Kry didn’t like, but he will never tell you that — and that is a comfort. But you’re unaware of the plans doctor Kry has for you. And maybe that’s for the best.  

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.  

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATION(9)⛓

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

❤︎ seonbaenim! | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @trivia-yandere

❤︎ number: unknown | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @aft3rhrs

❤︎ definition of love | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @sparklingchim

❤︎ 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | Racer!Jungkook X Reader | Series | @bonny-kookoo

❤︎ Inevitable | Jungkook x (f.) Reader | Exes AU | Series | @ahundredtimesover

❤︎ sweet apple biscuits | jungkook x reader | OneShot | @rosaetae

❤︎ Primrose | Emperor Jungkook x Empress Y/N | @mingshits

❤︎ Answer My Calls | possessive jk X Reader | OneShot | @74jeon

❤︎ Red and Gold | Iron Man!Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @thedefinitionofbts

❤︎ The Offer | CEO!JK X Reader | Series | @nanamilkandbrownies

❤︎ SATIVA. | husband!Jungkook x fem!reader | OneShot | @2hightocare

❤︎ the underwear thief | jungkook x female reader | OneShot | @gukyi

❤︎ METAMORPHOSE | postmilitaryracer!jungkook x she | Series | @hoseoksluna

❤︎ and my man, thank you to my man | dealer!jeon jungkook x (f)reader | Series | @darklingjeon

❤︎ All Over Again | Dad!JK X Reader | OneShot | @jungkookstatts

❤︎ Nine to five, Five to Nine | side chick dancer female reader x boxer jungkook | OneShot | @thvlouvre

❤︎ peppermint gum | jungkook x reader | TwoShot | @whatifyoulivelikethat

❤︎ Come Back to You | Reader x Soldier Jungkook | OneShot | @ahgasegotarmy116

❤︎ Endless Summer | jock!Jungkook x nerd!reader | OneShot | @koostattoos

❤︎ By your side always and forever | jungkook X fem!reader | OneShot | @le3worl

❤︎ Birthday Cake | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @blueberryarchive

❤︎ Lucifer | demon jungkook x (f) reader | @elijeon

❤︎ KNOCK OUT | Jungkook × reader | OneShot | @btsbrat

❤︎ Daddy Daycare | Technician! Jungkook x Teacher's Assistant! Reader | @miraclesatnightfall

❤︎ Semantic Error | Techie inexperienced fem!reader x Artist fuck boy Jungkook | Series | @ahgasegotarmy116

❤︎ LOVE. | pinkcoquette/Sanriolover!oc x bf!jk | OneShot | @sayokodiary

❤︎ Aşk-ı Memnu | non idol! Jungkook x fem! married! Reader | @sweetcarrotsandroses97

❤︎ new beginnings | ceo!jungkook x figureskater!oc | OneShot | @nochukoo97

❤︎ timing | Ex!JK X Reader | Series | @spideyjimin

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

[sunlight-s0ngbird]

Yandere Soldier masterlist

Welcome board Request rules __

Yandere Soldier - War sucks the love and gentleness from a man, the loneliness of the trenches makes them go insane. So, when you find Fritz hiding in your barn, you can't turn him away.

Hungry for your love - Yandere Soldier/Priest/Bounty Hunter/Patient x Fem! Reader headcanons to fic (romantic)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Requests are open!

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Party Disaster

Pairing: Dark Soldier Boy x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: What Soldier Boy wants, he gets.

WARNINGS: Noncon.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

"That’s a nice dress.” 

You turn around upon hearing the deep voice, automatically plastering an amicable smile on your face. 

“Oh, thank you so much, Soldier Boy.” you reply, although the way his green eyes rake over your body, momentarily pausing when they reach the cleavage, is less than respectful.

Especially in a public event. 

“A short one too, by the way.”

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring his remark as you let your eyes run over the people that walk around.

“Lovely party, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” you agree, twisting your purse in your hands.

It’s slightly unnerving to be in a room full of superheroes, even though you work with them on a daily basis.

A shiver runs down your spine as the memory of Countess Crimson shouting at you for bumping against her in the hall, forcing you to apologize even though it was technically her fault.

The memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Hey, you good?” Soldier Boy’s hand lands on your shoulder and you offer him a reassuring smile.

He nods towards the dance floor, winking his eye at you. “How about a dance? I bet you’re an incredible dancer.” 

“I’m not much of a dancer, actually.” the excuse comes quickly and you pretend not to notice when his hand tightens on your shoulder.

You take a step back, under the pretense of putting the glass back on a tray, escaping his touch. 

“Actually I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m very tired.” 

“How about I drive you home?” the offer is enough to make your heart skip a beat, anxiety crawling under your skin.  

“Hum, it’s okay, really. I only live two minutes away so it’s a quick walk.” you lie but it doesn’t matter as Soldier Boy only lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I let a young lady like yourself walk alone at night, would I? Bad things happen all the time.” his hand sneaks around your back as he comes closer. “Let me just walk you to the door. Make sure you’re safe and sound.” 

His words sound harmless and you nod, knowing that you don’t really have much of a choice. 

And you just want to go home quickly. 

He fucks you hard, like he’s a starved man. You always knew his strength was unparalleled, but never once did you ever think that you’d be fighting against it.

You cry out every time his hips aggressively meet yours, your pelvic bone hurting from the impact.

Soldier Boy thrusts meanly, holding down your hands on each side of your head with so much force that it feels like he’s crushing them.

You gasp in pain as he forces his cock inside over and over again, your pussy barely able to accommodate him even with the poor idea of him using his spit as lube.

“Fuck, I knew you’d have a tight cunt but damn, you make virgin pussies look bad.” he groans, leaning forward with his pretty hair falling off in strands into his eyes.

The feeling isn’t pleasant , your dry walls burning upon the intrusion. He tries kissing you, but you dodge away, turning your head to the side.

“Don’t be a brat, now.” his voice comes out deeper than usual and he punches a few cruel thrusts in payback.

One of his hands takes both of your wrist, pinning them above as the other reaches for your chest, squeezing a boob hard enough for you to wince. “I know you’re enjoying this. You wanted me, right?”

“Soldier Boy, please…stop.” you plead, but he barely listens to you. His attention is focused on the lower part of your body, eyes following the way his massive cock forces you open.

“That’s why you were all nice. Getting all dressed up for me. You wanted me. You wanted to fuck Soldier Boy.” his declaration has your stomach churning.

It was hardly what happened, but Soldier Boy only saw what he wanted to.  

“Such a pretty pussy that you got, sweetheart. Taking me so well.” he sucks a deep breath and speeds up with movements, your body shaking with the sudden urgency of his thrusts.

He chants multiple curses as he furiously chases his high, only stopping when he cums with an obscene growl.

His body collapses over you, trapping you under the suffocating weight with his cum oozing out of you.  

You hate superheroes. 

[lillygamine]

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝒯ℎ𝑒 𝒬𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛

♡ Warning: Female!Reader X Male!Yandere, Male!Sodier!Guard!Yandere, Delusional!Yandere, Mention of non-consensual relationship, Mention of nsfw, Short imagine. ♡ Note:I had thoughts about nsfw with a medieval soldier/guard, but I needed to at least put something about it since I'm not very good with NSFW stories, maybe if this has repercussions I'll write something 👀 ♡ Note2:I don't speak English so I'm sorry for any mistakes in writing. ⚠️ Minors please dni with most posts/follow ⚠️

Fight battles and wars that are not mine, live for a single purpose, the purpose of serving, the duty to the Queen and to this nation. Never before have I been so loyal to something or someone, living life in an endless limbo, without purpose or happiness, without duty or reason to continue living, existing as a long-lost soul, wandering in this dark and endless limbo. I was always good at obeying orders, doing what I was told to do, after all; I had no ambitions, values, opinions or desires, I was a shell of a man, so I don't understand…

That woman, who had just been entrusted with such a huge responsibility, taking care of an entire kingdom, carrying such a heavy burden that was placed on her shoulders without even having her wishes taken into consideration, could have noticed my presence. She looked deep into my eyes and extended her hand to me, offering me a purpose, a reason to live, not as an order but as a request. As if we were equal, as if what I wanted was important.

A warrior, her sword, her hands, her dog, I was all of that. Fight your battles, Win your wars, be your eyes and ears, be your most loyal dog, but I was flawed Serving her is my purpose, my duty, but my desire was to possess her. Desire corrupted me, growing inside my chest like weeds, gnawing at me from the inside, expanding and feeding on every little sigh, every little smile, every look from her.

I don't know when it started, but when I finally noticed it, it had already spread through my being like a fire in a dry forest on a burning summer day. My body burned in flames even away from her, my mind, corroded with profane thoughts, making me desire her so ardently. Your smile, your voice, your eyes, your touch… I felt haunted every time I closed my eyes.

I wanted to touch her, hear her voice calling to me, feel her tremors and fill her with my bastards, desecrate her completely, make her mine and mine alone. I know she feels the same, her kindness, her pity, it can be nothing but love, a pure love from someone who has never been tainted by the sadism and cruelty of life, who has never been desecrated by lust and greed, a pure being .

The queen must be desecrated by the world, but it's okay if it's me…right? Your most loyal guard, your most obedient dog, right? I can it,right? I have that right, I'm only loyal to the queen! She certainly agrees with me… I can protect her from the dark world, even if I end up desecrating her along the way… The queen will be alive and safe, the queen will be mine... Long live for the Queen

[babylacedream]

cause youre my-y-y

i always find myself back to you જ part 7 of ?

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

pairing: yandere!bucky barnes x f! reincarnated autistic reader

warning: struggling with bucky's death, grief, yandere themes, anxiety, obsessed!bucky, violence, angsty, separation anxiety

summary: you came down with a cold and bucky is taking care of you. you dream of your first kiss with bucky.

notes: inspired by pinkpantheress unreleased song called cuz you're my*, I recommend listening.

please remember i am autistic, so i will be writing my personal experience with my autism. thanks!

sorry for edging you <3 ur giving lads mc vibes ♡

I want You just the way you are The lengths that I have gone To give you everything you want 'Cause you're my-y-y Reason I need to breathe The one I need to keep So I can keep you dear and close to me 'Cause you're my-y-y

That moment under the umbrella, the rain pouring, that raw outburst of yours, was neither your hallucination nor a dream. It was real. Very real.

But you felt sick. You almost forgot that getting sick in this body is ruthless to you.

You pressed your hands against his chest, trying to ground yourself, "I don't feel good." You stumbled before Bucky steadied you.

You needed to say something to him before you fainted, "You can't leave me again..." The anguish in your voice spoke volumes to him.

You clenched your eyes shut, shaking your head, trying to lessen the throbbing pain in your head. You whimpered, peering up at him. "I... won't forgive you if you leave me again."

Then, you collapsed in his arms.

You were fast asleep, dreaming of that time when you were nineteen. Fresh out of high school with Bucky. You recently saw a couple kissing in a corner.

It sparked unwanted feelings and thoughts. Or just feelings and thoughts you hid.

At this point, you were going to die as a chaste woman. Other girls your age already had children and a husband. You were nineteen and still no first kiss, nothing.

"Kiss me." You were straightforward with Bucky. You had dragged him behind the church you attended with your families.

Bucky coughed, looking shocked at those words that came out of your mouth. "Where did this come from?"

"Please," you beseech him as you inch yourself close to him.

"No." A quick response as he looked away from you.

"Why?" You followed his gaze.

"Because you don’t know what you're asking for."

You backed a bit, flustered that he wasn't taking this seriously. "I do."

"You do?" He was messing with you.

You nodded. "Yes, I’d rather not die without getting my first kiss." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"James!" You knew he hated being called that, especially from you, "Come on, please!" You whined, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you.

Bucky knows he shouldn't spoil you, but he can't help but give in to your request, especially when you're begging so.

After all, this would be his first kiss, too. And the lengths he's gone to keep himself under control were starting to crumble.

You were his need to breathe; his very existence was embedded in you. He couldn't resist you any longer.

Bucky looked at you, seeing you biting your lips and the way your fidgety fingers were playing with his fingers with such troubling resolve. Bucky sighed, seeing how determined you are.

"Don't regret this later."

That memory had faded away before you got the chance to feel his lips against yours once again.

As your eyes fluttered open, your throat hurt, your nose stuffed, you had a cold. You were in bed with a drenched towel on your forehead.

You felt someone's hand wrapped around yours. You slowly turned your head to see the same Bucky you saw in your dream.

"Bucky?!"

You abruptly sat up, the towel falling off your forehead onto your lap, numb to the pain in your head from getting up so quickly.

It looked like your Bucky, but it would soon morph into The Winter Soldier. As you perceived you were hallucinating again, the painful throb in your head revealed itself. You were almost about to cry until he gently laid you back into the bed, letting you sleep yet again.

"You asked me to never leave you, so," he tightened his hand around yours. "I never left."

You dreamt yet again of Bucky, one where you were sick, and your parents asked Bucky if he could take care of you while they were on vacation.

"Ew, I don't want to drink that crap!" Bucky was the enemy now, with the most disgusting and most vile medicine in his hand. He held it to your lips, forcing you to take it.

"Sorry, doll, but I'm in charge here."

You coughed while Bucky rubbed your back as you cringed from the taste in your mouth.

"See? Wasn't all that bad."

"Easy for you to say." You pouted at how calm and collected he looked, almost like that kiss you shared with him wasn't all that big of a deal.

"Be honest, did you already kiss someone before?"

"No, doll. You were my first, as was yours." His attention was on tucking you in with your comfy blankets.

You eyed him suspiciously, "I find that hard to believe, that kiss felt..."

"Felt what?" He smirked, looking at you now.

"It felt skilled, too skilled."

"Maybe I'm a natural," he paused. "Don't believe me? We can try again." Bucky edged close to you, determined to convince you.

"Wait," you stopped him with those soft hands of yours, "I'm sick, remember?"

"I don't mind."

The dream ended and you woke up feeling slightly better. Bucky had his eyes closed, but you know better that he was not sleeping.

You sat up on the bed, studying him before speaking. "Where were you?" You watched as he opened his eyes slowly and adjusted his gaze onto you.

"Taking care of some vermins," Bucky spoke coldly.

"Vermins?" You pondered, "HYDRA?" He nodded.

"Uh, why would you do that?"

Isn’t it rule number one to not go back to HYDRA, so they won’t control you? Wait, is he being controlled right now? No, if he was, he should’ve killed you that night.

"They touched you."

Touched you, when? Oh, it must have been when you were in the bathroom. But, you didn’t care about that. You were so confused. How was he able to resist?

"Um, could you tell me exactly what you did to them?"

Bucky vividly and graphically explained what he did to them. Every single detail. He didn't leave anything out. To the T.

They touched you so he gave them times worse than that bump you felt on your shoulder. So much worse.

That's why he left you, to rid of those bastards who were assigned to take glances at you.

Bucky explained to you that because he's been with you this whole time, his trigger words, and the brainwashing has lessened. But his tendencies as The Winter Soldier never left.

"Do you remember anything from your past?"

"You."

You were about to deny it, but it's no use. You already confirmed it that night, and now, the cat is out of the bag.

Though, it's not like he needed that confirmation.

"So, what happens now?"

Bucky explained that he disposed of most of them, but a few that were still in pursuit of him and you. In truth, he didn't want to be apart from you this long. "I stay by your side until I know you're safe—"

You interrupted him, "And then what, you'll leave again?" You furrowed your brows, reaching out and pulling him close, holding onto his jacket, "I told you that night that you can't leave me now that you're back in my life."

Bucky chuckled, "You didn't let me finish." He paused, with his metal hand grabbing your hand that was holding onto his jacket for dear life, and placed a gentle kiss on your palm.

"After I know harm is out of your way. Then, I can keep you dear and close to me."

[aphroditelovesu]

In the middle of the night

❝commission: in the spirit of kinktober, I'd like to make an NSFW request that gives some insight into the intimate relationship between Alexander and y/n (pre kidnapping). In other words, something that shows what happens when Alexander spends the night in her tent. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: It's been a while since I did something with a touch of smut and this one was more romantic, so I can't say lol, but I liked it. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: smut, oral sex (female receiving) and praise kink (?).

❝📜pairing: soft yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 2,238.

Your tent was silent, shrouded in a blanket of darkness that seemed to weigh down on your shoulders. Outside, the wind whistled, whispering between the ropes and the openings of the canvas, a constant and melancholic sound. It was an almost comforting noise, as if the night outside was trying to lull your restless thoughts. Even the soldiers who normally talked loudly and made jokes were now deep in sleep, their grumbling and snoring just a distant murmur.

The night had already gone on longer than it should have, and you knew that staying awake until that hour would be a problem. However, the feeling of discomfort that weighed on your chest did not allow you to rest. For hours, you rolled from one side to the other, trying to surrender to sleep, but each attempt seemed to worsen the restlessness, and the darkness of the tent became a kind of prison. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you decided to get up and move away from the crumpled cot that only increased your frustration. As you lit a candle to illuminate the tent, you were finally able to see properly.

Near a small trunk of belongings, in which your kitty pajamas were carefully stored, there was a chair that had been arranged with care. You settled into it, adjusting your posture, and picked up a book that was nearby: a copy of the Iliad, a gift from Alexander. The worn cover showed signs of use, as if it had passed through several hands before reaching yours. You slid your fingers over the surface of the book, feeling the relief and texture of the leather. The familiarity of the gesture brought a kind of momentary relief, an anchor in the midst of the chaos that was your mind.

As you opened the book, the complexity of ancient Greek leapt out at you, a language you had never even thought of learning, but which was now strangely accessible to you. It wasn’t just the understanding of the words, but the cadence, the melody of the sentences, everything seemed to echo naturally in your mind, as if a subtle spell or an unknown power was guiding you through that story. For a brief moment, you reflected on the strangeness of it all — being able to understand a language so distant and from ages past. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, or the design of a greater force. Either way, you knew you would be lucky to be able to communicate at this time; total isolation would be a much crueler fate.

Your eyes read each word with anticipation, a smile adorning your lips as the story of the Trojan War was told in the most original and truthful way possible. The Iliad was truly something worth reading, no matter what Age you were in.

You were so immersed in the words of the Iliad, so lost in the distant universe of epic battles and ancient heroes, that the world around you seemed to disappear. Time and space within the tent became irrelevant, and all you heard were the imaginary sounds of swords and shields, the Greek lines echoing in your mind.

It was then that a soft but unexpected sound brought you back to reality. A discreet, almost restrained clearing of your throat. Your heart skipped a beat, and you almost let the book slip from your hands. The shock you felt was immediate, and for a moment, even your gaze took a while to adjust to the figure that materialized at the entrance to the tent, half hidden by the soft shadows cast by the light of the lantern.

Alexander, arms crossed and a half smile on his lips, watched your reaction. He seemed to be trying hard not to laugh, which only intensified that amused glint in his eyes. ''Sorry. I didn’t plan to scare you,'' he said, his voice low, but with a hint of amusement that he couldn’t completely hide.

You felt your cheeks heat up, a little embarrassed by the reaction, and still trying to regain your composure after the scare.

''No... I...'' You took a deep breath and forced a shaky smile, ''It’s okay.''

Alexander just nodded, his different colored eyes shining when he noticed the Iliad in your hands. Oh, you had forgotten.

The Iliad was his favorite book. Especially the story of Achilles and Patroclus.

''I didn’t want to interrupt your reading.'' Alexander murmured, approaching you. He stopped next to your chair, his attentive eyes watching you and you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

You couldn’t say anything, just nodded.

''But I saw a light on and I got curious.'' Alexander continued, placing his clumsy hands on your shoulders. ''Can’t sleep?''

''I... I’m not sleepy...'' You murmured, looking at him, observing his features. Alexander was an attractive man, his features were strong and marked and the way his lips, full but small, were slightly parted, made him even more charming. Although not that tall, Alexander was strong and that made him even more attractive.

''I can’t sleep either.'' Alexander said and smiled at you, noticing that you were watching him. You felt your cheeks heat up and looked away to the book in your hands. There was nothing wrong with finding your husband attractive, right?

''Why? Did something happen?'' You found yourself asking, curious.

Alexander shrugged. ''My body refuses to rest.''

You nodded, knowing exactly how he felt, because you felt the same way. Your body refused to rest, no matter that you felt tiredness hitting you hard these past few weeks.

Your heart suddenly raced, but this time for a completely different reason. As you tried to formulate a response, something to break the awkward silence, you felt Alexander's unexpected touch. He approached you, with a delicate and almost reverent gesture, and you held your breath as he reached out, his fingers gently touching your face.

He brushed a strand of your hair away, carefully tucking it behind your ear. His fingers, warm and gentle, slid lightly over your skin, leaving a trail of heat. Each second seemed to stretch on, and you found yourself unable to look away from Alexander's eyes, which watched you with an intensity that made your face heat up even more.

"You are beautiful." Alexander whispered, staring at you as if he could read your soul.

You felt your mouth suddenly go dry, at the same time your body warmed with his words.

''Simply gorgeous.'' He said, bringing his face closer to yours. You stood still, barely breathing, when he finally captured your lips in a soft, delicate kiss. His lips touched yours with an unexpected tenderness, as if he were being careful not to scare you.

The kiss was sweet, almost hesitant, but deep in its simplicity. And, little by little, you felt your own tension disappear, as if the world had become a lighter, safer place, and you finally found the courage to close your eyes and allow yourself to feel, to allow yourself to reciprocate.

Alexander's hands slid gently to your head, his fingers intertwining in your hair as he tilted your face slightly, deepening the kiss with increasing intensity. The gesture, at once tender and passionate, dissolved any trace of discomfort or hesitation that might have remained. Without thinking, you brought your own hands to his shoulders, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his clothes, and returned the kiss with equal fervor.

Alexander’s hands slid down your arms, gently pulling you out of the chair as your lips parted. He kept his gaze fixed on yours, his eyes burning with a desire and tenderness that stole your breath. Unhurriedly, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, your warm body pressed against his. Each movement was careful, as if he wanted to enjoy every second of that moment that seemed eternal.

There were few times when you lay together after your wedding night.

With a light touch, he guided you to the cot, the room enveloped in soft shadows and flickering lamplight, making the moment even more intimate. His hands, marked by calluses and scars from years of battle, moved with surprisingly delicate skill as he untied the knot of the white chiton that wrapped you. The fabric slid smoothly, abandoning your body and falling in a soft murmur to the floor.

As the cold night air touched your skin, Alexander's eyes explored you with silent reverence, his gaze as intense as the touch of his hands.

"Beautiful." Alexander whispered, his hands caressing your bare waist, squeezing the flesh lightly. Your breathing became heavy as he attacked your neck, his lips leaving bite marks on your skin, marks that you knew could not be hidden so easily.

Your head lolled to the side, giving his conqueror more access to your neck. Your eyes closed in delight as Alexander's hands rose to your breasts, squeezing them with a strength that would not hurt.

You gasped as his fingers squeezed your nipples, the cold and the touch making them perk up. Alexander squeezed, massaged until he finally stopped kissing your neck and pulled away a little, watching you for a few minutes like a hungry lion. He smiled and carefully pushed you onto the cot, making you sit up. Alexander quickly and conveniently removed the chiton and you held your breath when you saw his visible excitement.

You couldn’t help but feel yourself getting more aroused at the sight, your insides heating up and your most intimate parts naturally lubricating. Despite the scars that covered Alexander’s body, he was a sight to behold. His muscles, years of hard training, were palpable and you found yourself wanting to touch them, to enjoy them.

Alexander smiled broadly at you. There was no more embarrassment, just a husband and wife enjoying each other’s looks.

"Lie down." Alexander ordered, his voice husky and authoritative, leaving no room for questioning. You wisely obeyed him and lay down on the cot.

Alexander sat on the edge and his hands moved up your legs, parting them enough for him to slip his upper body between them. You sighed, a little confused but excited at the same time. His eyes were fixed on your pussy, on your arousal.

You expected him to get straight to the point, that he would just fuck you. Foreplay wasn't something common back then, it wasn't something that would please a woman at least.

But Alexander's next action surprised you.

He brought his face closer to your center and, without warning, his tongue touched your pussy, tasting you for the first time. Your body shivered at the sudden touch, at the texture of his tongue.

"Alexander... W-What?" You tried to question him but, perhaps to shut you up, Alexander sucked your clit, really sucked it, his mouth sucking the sensitive skin and his tongue making circular movements that left you breathless.

Alexander pulled back a little and you could see his chin glistening slightly with your slick in the dim, flickering light of the chandelier.

"I heard some soldiers talking about it..." Alexander murmured, smiling at you as his fingers found their way to your pussy and he slid two of them inside your heat, feeling your inner walls immediately tighten around his fingers. "And I decided to give it a try. Curiosity, perhaps. By the way, my Queen, you taste excellent."

You could have sworn you were going to cum when you heard him call you Queen. Maybe it was a new kink you had acquired, but by the gods, it was something really nice to hear, to be praised. And, the best part, you really are a Queen.

Alexander kissed the inside of your thigh, feeling how hot you were. He sniffed the air and you had to suppress a moan at the sight you were seeing and, perhaps, because he still had two fingers inside you.

Alexander brought his face closer to your pussy again and licked it greedily, his tongue lingering on your clit, on that spot on your body that he knew would leave your legs trembling. He was a quick learner and Alexander knew that that spot between your legs left you breathless. Your head fell back, your sighs and moans of pleasure leaving your lips without any shame.

Alexander squeezed your thighs as he devoured you and his fingers fucked you in a fast and pleasurable rhythm. His tongue pressed against your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your legs trembled slightly, your hands gripping Alexander's dirty blonde hair as you finally reached your climax. You came in his mouth, clenching his hair, your body releasing your juices as you finally felt yourself relax. The orgasm relieved all the tension that was plaguing you.

Your breathing slowly returned to normal, and you looked up at Alexander, who pulled away slightly and smiled broadly at you. After removing his fingers from your pussy, Alexander brought them to his mouth, tasting more of your taste.

You felt like you could attack him right then and there.

Alexander chuckled as he saw your expression, the pleasure, excitement, and desire taking over your features. It was a sight to behold and one he planned to worship for as long as he could.

You were his Queen and should be worshipped as such.

[corvus-ix]

Yandere Jugram Haschwalth x F!SR!Reader

Note: Reader is female and a Soul Reaper, and I'm also not going to use (Y/N)/NAME in this fic.

Also this is my first time writing a a whole yandere one-shot

Warning: Yandere tendencies, Cussing, Maybe a little ooc Jugram

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Summary: During the war against the Quincies, a Soul Reaper finds herself targeted by the Sternritter’s Grandmaster, Jugram Haschwalth. While she fights for her life, Jugram has other plans for her

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The Soul Reaper stood amid the ruins of Seireitei, her breathing labored and her zanpakuto trembling in her hand. She had barely escaped a brutal fight with a large group of Quincy, but she knew she wasn’t safe yet.

Not yet, Quincy Soldier keep are almost everywhere

When she manage to escape and hide inside one of the ruin building

"Fucking damn it, I almost died back there"

She mutter under her heavy breath, trying to calm her own breathing

She lay her back at the wall of the building, closing her eyes hoping for a small rest before she head back out to continue fighting the invaders

“Why do you struggle?”

as a calm, deep voice was heard in the shadow not too far infront of her, dread filling her eyes as she start to shake uncontrollably

Eyes widening as a blonde and tall Quincy walk out of the shadow showing himself

His cold blue eyes staring at her, there was an intensity with how he stare at her but maybe it's because their at war with each other, she thought to herself. She quickly force herself to take a defensive stance, gripping her zanpakuto tighter turning her knuckles slightly white

“Who wouldn't struggle in a middle of a war...”

she replied, her voice shaking from the exhaustion that she barely get to recover from

“Hey pretty boy, can you be a gentleman and give me the name of the person I'm about to fight”

Slightly giving a cocky smile her voice more louder than earlier, hoping another soul reaper nearby hear her

The blonde quincy smiled faintly, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.

“I'am Jugram Haschwalth, Sternritter Grandmaster”

Her smile instantly drop as her body began to shake more, realizing that she's definitely fuck right now and wouldn't survive this fight

Jugram took a slow, deliberate step closer. “I’ve been watching you… your bravery, your determination, and your skill… It would be a waste for it to be crushed beneath this war.”

Her heart pounded as she watched he slowly approach her. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or if there was something darker hidden behind those calm, dark eyes.

“If you know anything about me. . .

Then you should know I won’t back down. Not from you or anyone else.”

She reply as she try to stable herself

For a moment, he stop snd stare her in silence. Then, as if entranced, he murmured, “You’re right… That’s what drew me to you.”

"Fuck!"

Before she could swing her zanpakuto, Jugram moved with impossible speed, appearing just right in front of her with his sword unsheathe and the next thing she knew her zanpakuto is cut in half

Jugram move again with the same speed earlier, appearing just inches from her. She tried to raise her broken zanpakuto, but he caught her wrist effortlessly, as he put his sword back into it sheathe with his other hand before pulling her closer. The cold touch of his hand sent a shiver down her spine.

“There’s something about you,”

He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Something that makes me want to keep you close, to ensure that no harm comes to you. Even if you're our enemy.”

Her eyes widened as she process his words. She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch

“You know that your spitting bullshit right now?

Keep me away from harm when you guys started this war and killed many of my friends and comrades!”

She spat out, heart pounding with a mix of fear, confusion, and anger.

Jugram’s gaze softened, a strange warmth in his usually cold eyes

“No matter how you see and feel about this matter, from this moment on, you belong to me. No harm will come to you… not from the Quincy, and certainly not from anyone from Soul Society.”

His tone turned possessive, almost desperate.

“I’ll protect you… whether you wish for it or not.”

She shook her head, panic flooding her veins.

“You’re insane! I’d never agree to this.”

Jugram's expression hardened, a dangerous edge returning to his gaze

“You misunderstand. This is not a choice.”

His other hand cupped her face, and for a brief moment, his touch was almost gentle. “You’ll understand in time… that no one can keep me apart from you”

As she struggled against his hold, the weight of his words settled over her like a curse. In the heart of the war Jugram took her away and confined her in the deepest corner of Silbern where no prying eyes could see her nor any eavesdroppers could hear her desperate cry for help

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Extra note:

This fanfic is dedicated to Jugram birthday which is today 11/05

Look at this pretty birthday man🥰