Yandere Of Your Choice With A S/o Who Misses Their Family? What Would Be The Yandere Reaction??

making bllk boyfriends think hes getting every question wrong prank (smau)

ft: itoshi sae , itoshi rin , mikage reo , nagi seishiro

cw: kys/die jokes , lots of swearing , rin and sae r kinda mean? but they love u I swear , gn reader (I accidentally made a mistake in reo's one but I covered it, just ignore) , knocking/slapping/burying someone jokes

an: if u dont know this trend, I got it off tiktok!! here: https://www.tiktok.com/@julieandcorey/video/7279956063179312427?_t=8gAvTWDoZYw&_r=1 This is such a funny trend I should do it too lmfaooo

sae

rin

reo

nagi

sleepyhead. (version one.)

in which you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, at the most unconventional of places, which is how the traveller and paimon find out about your relationship with him.

pairing. neuvillette, scaramouche x gn reader

tags. fluff, slight(?) crack, established relationship

notes. if scaras part doesn't make sense i apologize in advance

alhaitham & lyney vers.

“Neuvillette, there's a — Wait. You're not Neuvillette…?”

Aether and Paimon stare at the sight, slightly dumbstruck. You're sprawled over the Chief Justice's desk, hair splayed over your face as you sleep. Your head rests on top of a few documents, and you're curled up in his seat as if it was exactly where you belonged.

Paimon frowns, floating over to you. She gives your shoulder a poke. You don't react. “Should we wake them…? Paimon doesn't think people are allowed to sleep in here, anyway.”

Aether disagrees. You wouldn't have been allowed in here if you didn't have something to do, right? That explained your presence, but it didn't explain why you were asleep in Neuvillette's chair… Besides, where was he?

Speak of the devil. Or, rather, dragon. The office door cracks open, and the man of the hour strides in.

“Neuvillette, there's someone sleeping on your desk!” Paimon informs him, “Should we wake them up?”

It's almost imperceptible, but Aether's gaze is sharp, and he catches the way the Iudex' eyes soften. He shakes his head. “No, leave them be. They will wake on their own accord.”

Paimon huffs. “That position definitely can't be comfortable… I say we move them to the couch there!”

Neuvillette seems to agree. Lifting you bridal style, he sets you on the couch gently. Swiftly, he pulls out a thick quilt from a cupboard and drapes it over you.

“You even have a blanket?!” Paimon squeaks, a little too loud. “Who even are they!?”

“My partner, of course.”

“YOUR PARTNER??”

Well, that was unexpected.

You stir.

Then, you bolt upright, leaping from the couch, eyes wide as your gaze lands on Neuvillette. “Shit, I fell asleep again, didn't I? I didn't mean to! I was going to surprise you but your chair is definitely too comfy for that and —”

He doesn't take more than three steps to reach you, easily snaking a hand around your waist. He only has to dip his head and his nose brushes against yours, silencing anything you had to say.

Aether has the strangest feeling that he's intruding on something too private.

“I assure you,” he murmurs lowly, “Seeing you is always a pleasant experience, surprise or no.”

You choke slightly, clearing your throat. “Don't be a sap.”

The both of you fall silent, just gazing into each other's eyes.

“Uhm,” Paimon interrupts awkwardly.

You screech, startling, head whipping back to see them. “You had guests over?! This is embarrassing. I'm leaving. Ta-ta!”

You bolt out of the room before anyone has any time to react.

“Was no one gonna tell me you were dating someone?!” Paimon accuses.

“Then, I must inform you that we are married.” There's a hint of a smile on Neuvillette's face now, as his eyes flicker toward the half-open door.

“I'm sorry, WHAT?”

“Hey, Aether, isn't that Hat Guy??” Paimon pipes in, pointing at Wanderer, formerly Scaramouche. “He looks really mad. Let's go see what he's up to.”

He did look mad. Furious, even. It's an odd expression to see on his face when Aether's used to his usual disinterest or mockery.

Except…

“Wait, he's walking towards someone. A sleeping someone. That's not good! We have to save them!”

The both of them rush up to him, interrupting his march toward his target. Aether stands in between you and Wanderer, acting as some sort of shield.

“What are you doing?” Aether asks.

Wanderer only scowls, swatting at him. “Get out of my way, you mewling quim.”

“No! We can't let you hurt them!” Paimon cries. “They're not even armed. They're asleep!”

He stops short at that. Confusion floods his features, which quickly morph into disbelief. “Hurt them? I'd never. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Aether doesn't relent. The guy looks entirely too murderous to not hurt anyone. “What's up with them, then?”

Venomously, his lips part, probably to spew some insult but he's interrupted by a soft voice, thick with sleep.

“Kuni…?”

The change is instantaneous. Wanderer goes slack immediately, the usual tension gone. He brushes past Aether quickly.

“Idiot. Why were you sleeping here?” he snarks without bite, crouching down to your level.

That is a good question. You're at the outskirts of Sumeru city, dead asleep under a tree and against a rock. “Yea,” Paimon agrees, “Why are you sleeping here?”

You all but collapse into Wanderer's arms. He stiffens, and everyone can see his internal battle of whether to reciprocate or push you away.

He chooses the latter, sitting on the ground so that you're half in his lap. The shock is palpable between Paimon and the blond.

You glance upward at Aether and Paimon almost lazily, a casual smile on your face. “I was waiting for Kuni here, and I got tired.”

“Here is no place to fall asleep,” he snaps, but the effect is ruined due to the fact that you're in his lap. “You can sleep at home. You have a bed for a reason.”

“Geez, just say you were worried,” you lament lightheartedly.

Aether sits too, and Paimon follows. “Why were you waiting anyway?”

“We were gonna have a picnic! I have the basket right —” you turn to the ground near the tree, only to find it bare. You sigh, disappointed. “Oh. It's gone.”

“Nevermind that,” Wanderer sighs. “This'll serve as a reminder not to sleep outdoors like some street rat. We can get lunch at a cafe.”

“Okay, but is no one going to comment on this?” Paimon flails an arm between the two of you, and your positions especially. “Because this is just weird. Like. What is happening?!”

Wanderer turns his gaze onto her, violet eyes electrifying. “Speak one word of this and you'll never see the light of day again.”

Damn, okay then.

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

cw: yandere themes, baby trapping

"Mother, why don't you love me?"

Your daughter is five years old and she asks this question every single day. You look indifferently at the child standing in front of you, who resembles you like two peas in a pod. She's your exact copy, and it would seem that there wasn't a single difference between the two of you. But the ginger strand of hair in her braid would never allow you to forget who her father was.

The girl is patiently waiting for your answer, but you continue to remain silent because you have nothing to say to her. You were surprised by her tenacity and insistence in wanting to know what you felt for her, like a mother for her daughter. Unfortunately, you lost your tenacity and insistence a long time ago.

"It's okay, solntse moyo. Your mother isn't feeling well right now." A sickeningly cheerful voice reaches your ears, because of which all your insides curl into a big lump, and you feel like you're going to throw up. Ajax picks your daughter up and smiles when your eyes meet his. "When she gets better, she'll definitely tell you how much she loves you."

Your daughter happily cuddles up to the ginger man, happy that soon she will finally be able to hug you and tell you how much she loves you. Your husband hugs your daughter tighter, his blue dead empty eyes look straight into your soul. Only two out of three know that you will never get better.

` Author’s notes: solntse moyo (rus.) means my sun. so how was it? i hope it didn't turn out too bad. i've never written about yandere theme before, but this sketch has been in my mind for a while 🤭

hihi!! could I req some platonic aventurine hcs with a teen!reader?

Characters: Aventurine platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: with teen reader

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

He’s so bossy, not letting you do anything that’s “fun.” since Everyone your age does it. Everyone Gambles all the time, you try to sneak out but he always catches you. Don't complain he just doesn't want you to get addicted like your “friends” with no future.

 He’s pretty dotting as well. Like don’t be mad at him, he’s just trying to help your future self from doing something he knows you’ll regret! If you want you can just spend some time with him since he’s your older brother.

“Ugh fine” You reluctantly spend time with him (you just can’t help but wonder how much free time this guy has) he makes you have fun, like theme parks or their version of Chuck E. Cheese.

He is not a fan of punishing you harshly at all. You can’t force a kid to act like an adult. Your teen in your angsty era, thinking whatever he does is annoying and uncaring. It’s fine you two have many years ahead of you if that's the problem.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

How annoying.

Just how annoying could Aventurine be? Honestly, you wanted to just hang out with some friends and now you're stuck with him! you're just dreading going to your table—with both of your drinks in hand—with him just waiting for you.

How shameless! He’s just embarrassing you! So many people were staring at the two of you. 

You just sigh when the cashier gives you your drinks and dragging your feet back to your table,  you sit down next to him, roughly putting his drink in front of him  “Your drink is here.” you say in an unenthusiastic tone, before sitting down as well.

“Such an attitude these days.” he grins at you almost as if he’s happy about it. then he just randomly grabs your drink away from you. “hey that’s my drink!”  you whine at him. He ignores you, however. 

“Should teenagers be drinking at such a young age?” He doesn't seem mad at all, more like laughing at your attempt at being sneaky. you just feel so embarrassed.

“No more drinks, you're just going to drink water for the rest of the night.” He just gives you the consequences of your actions. “Waiter, just get this kid some waterwater.” He snapped his fingers at the staff walking by. you tried, just watching him down your drink right in front of your face.

 So embarrassing, but it's fine he'll keep the secret between. 

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

I didn’t ask to get isekaied (VII)

Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia.

Summary: (Continuation, after this) The main cast of Twisted Wonderland is in ruins after realizing the player’s vessel, Yuu, has mysteriously gone out of commission. So when Grim vanishes and appears next with a stranger holding Yuu’s camera, they cannot recognize the player they practically worship and assume the worst: that this person is an imposter.

Note: Finally, the last part of the imposter au (no, it totally did not take almost six months for me to finally write this– ANYWAYS). I finally named the series instead of just calling it the “twst sentience au + imposter au.” Not too sure about the name, but meh, I couldn’t think of anything else. Anyways, after this comes the endings. There will probably be a few, I’m thinking two or more, but we’ll see how that goes. Oh, and I have to give a thanks to @emperorhoodieraichu​, since they read part of this post and helped me revise it to make it better. I have not checked for grammar mistakes, may check and fix that later.

Ignihyde   |   Diasomnia

Keep reading

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #2 — The Wager

Aventurine knows your angry footsteps from a mile away as you shove your way through the Penaconian casino and straight to his table.

He has plenty of time to react, but he sits back in bemused silence as you slap his hand, sending aces and spades flying across the table and fluttering to the floor.

You are livid. Aventurine cannot help but chuckle at your adorable expressions as he begins to concoct a plan. After all, emotional betters tend to be reckless.

“Damn, and that was a good hand, too.”

You grit your teeth at his lackadaisical dismissal. “Screw your game. Are you going to tell me why there were IPC goons posted outside my apartment yet again this morning?”

He folds his hands and tilts his head innocently, a smirk painting his lips. “You assume I had something to do with that?”

“Don’t play dumb!” The rein on your temper is hanging on by a thread. You take a deep breath to reset yourself, then place both palms on the table to brace yourself. “What do you want?”

By this point, the others at the table have enough common sense to flee, leaving the two of you alone. The sounds of the slot machines and cheers of the casino-goers echo through the charged atmosphere between you.

“Darling, I think I’ve made that painstakingly obvious.” Before you can react, he grips one of your wrists and pulls you down so you are leaning across the table, face inches from his own. He runs a gloved finger along your cheek, licking his bottom lip. “Have you finally come to concede?”

You narrow your eyes but do not struggle—yet. “You fucking wish.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he drawls, much to your chagrin. “If not to acquiesce to my desires, then what brings your lovely presence here? Care to take a seat?” He motions, of course, to his lap.

You inhale sharply and speak before you lose your courage, temper, or both. “I want to make a wager with you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly; you’ve either surprised or excited him. Neither bode well for you.

“One game. We both know what we want from it.”

“Ah ah, I’ll need some clarification as to what I’m actually betting on,” Aventurine teases as he begins to reassemble the deck of cards, all while maintaining your eye contact.

Aeons, he’s actually going to make you spell it out. “I win, I get my out from you and the IPC. I get to leave Penacony and never look back. If I lose…” Your throat collapses for a moment before you spit out, “You win me.”

Aventurine releases you, leaning back in his chair. He grabs the newly formed deck of cards and begins shuffling. “I accept. But, since I have more to lose here—” You begin to protest, but he quickly tuts you into silence, “I will be the one choosing the game. Deal?” He extends his hand, golden rings glinting. You think you can hear the tick tick tick of his watch, counting down to your end.

You look over his expression, his body language, the smug smile. He’s hiding his ace, you can tell, but what choice do you have?

Slowly, you sink into the seat across from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs, reeling his hand in with an exaggerated pout. “In that case, we’ll be playing Maverick.”

Your accelerated heartbeat calms ever so slightly. That’s one game you’ve heard of. A game of pure luck rather than skill. You can work with that.

“The rules are simple.” He lays two cards, face down, in front of you. “Your goal is to guess a number that falls within these two cards. If you’re in the correct range? You walk out of this casino and never see me ever again.”

Your heart soars, but quickly falters when you spot the mischievous glint in his irises. “But, if you’re wrong and your number falls outside…” His thumb and index finger form the shape of a pistol, which he pretends to fire into your heart with a dramatic bang.

“Your heart is mine.”

No backing down.

He gestures between you and the cards, prompting you ahead. That smirk never falters.

Glancing between the two cards, you go with your gut. Defiantly holding his breathtaking blue and pink gaze, you speak aloud your favorite single digit number.

Aventurine hums and flips both cards simultaneously.

Two king of spades stare back at you mockingly.

“Looks like I win.”

yandere kaveh & alhaitham imagine

word count: 2700ish

Synopsis: One of the stickiest ideas for a yandere Kaveh and Alhaitham sharing a darling that I have is Kaveh's softer nature and tendency towards soothing the understandably distressed darling, especially in contrast to Alhaitham's no-nonsense take on things, backfiring on Kaveh at some point.

notes: kidnapped reader, mentions of control & other kidnapping related elements

Let's say you're having one of your regular crisis moments over the realization that you're more or less stuck inside the house indefinitely. Sometimes, Alhaitham lets you go outside, but you basically just get to stand in a corner of the yard that's protected from all view so you can get a bit of sunlight every day. He holds your hand the entire time.

It's a bit of torture--you want fresh air, you want the sun, but you sure as hell don't want Alhaitham's hand on yours the whole time, grip tight, eyes scrutinizing. But he refuses to let Kaveh take you outside because he thinks (rightfully) that Kaveh will be too permissive with your ability to roam outdoors, so you have to put up with it even it makes your lips curl downward and your stomach roil.

But of course, standing outside for a little bit while Alhaitham breathes over your shoulder is not the same as getting to leave the house. Getting to have a life. Getting to experience the world.

So you're crying about it. And Kaveh is there to pull you into his lap and rub your back and let you rest your head on his shoulder as you sniffle and sob your way through everything bothering you.

And you sputter out that a certain festival is coming up, and it's one of your favorite things, and you've never missed it and now you'll never get to see it again!

You burst into sobs, almost hysterical ones, that take Kaveh so aback that he simply holds you tighter in his embrace. Tears come to his eyes at seeing you so upset.

"It's not practical, is it? Alhaitham wouldn't let you out of the house in your... current wardrobe." He gestures to your outfit, which is not something you (or Alhaitham, or Kaveh) would want to go out in public wearing.

Because right now, your clothing mostly consists of loose tops that barely cover your ass. The dresses and skirts and trousers that Kaveh bought for you were relegated to the locked storage in the basement after you had a particularly nasty tantrum about Alhaitham's penchant for under-dressing you, and you'll have to earn them back over time.

Such a thing is not something Kaveh approves of--he thinks you should be able to wear whatever you want, and he can't fathom why Alhaitham doesn't appreciate the way your eyes sparkle and your face lights up when you wear something that you actually enjoy. Especially something flouncy and frilly and colorful. But it's not his choice, and all he can do is grimace and pat your shoulder in sympathy when you continually tug the top of the shirts down to give yourself more modesty.

You sniffle, a bit of snot bubbling in your nostrils, and if it was anyone else, Kaveh would shudder. But it's you, so all he does is lean over and grab a tissue to hold it to your nose and let you blow. He kisses your forehead once you've done it.

"At... at the festival, you're supposed to wear clothes with certain flowers on it." Your voice is still choked with emotion, but you're calming down, which is good.

So he lets you keep talking, rubbing your back, trying to keep you calm. "That sounds pretty. It's a shame you don't have anything like that to wear." And he softens his voice so much, that even though his words might sound like a barb if they were coming from anyone else, to you it's just another sign that Kaveh is on your side.

He always plies his voice with sympathy and clucks, all things he knows help bring you back from your emotional ledge.

"But... if I had something to wear, I could go?"

You look up at him with such wide eyes, all glassy from your tears, and you look so damn pretty. He smiles, that little smile he gets on his face when you're getting in trouble and he's not allowed to stop it. His sympathy smile. His we're-in-this-together smile, as if you two were anywhere near close to sharing the same experience in this house.

And the words come out soft and fluid and not thought through, at least not in the way he should have. "Well, of course."

They're meant to soothe you, but they're not true. Because he knows that Alhaitham isn't going to buy you festival attire. And since he knows Alhaitham would never agree to such an outing, Kaveh won't buy it for you either. He also knows that you--sweet thing that you are--won't ask him to buy it for you, because it might make Alhaitham mad at him.

That's one blessed, beautiful thing about you... you never push Kaveh to do more than what he himself is willing to do on his own. Sneak you treats. Buy you pretty things. Let you stay up late when Alhaitham isn't home. All of these, he's willing to do, because Alhaitham will grumble and tell Kaveh he needs to stop pampering you or you'll never accept your proper place with them... but he won't do more than that.

But you never ask him for things that go Beyond that Point. You never ask Kaveh for your freedom, you never ask him to stop Alhaitham from belting you for wayward transgressions. Because you know that Alhaitham would be absolutely furious with him for doing such things.

And so, he knows you won't outright ask him to buy you an outfit for the festival. And since that's your only avenue for getting such an outfit, there's no harm in letting you hope for it, like you sometimes hope for other things. Like freedom.

Your eyes flick to and fro after he says this, and then you smile, a rare toothy smile that makes you look relieved and innocent. You wrap your arms tighter around him, and he's more than happy to return the embrace.

He strokes your hair and lets you calm down further, soothed at the thought of maybe attending this festival. He assumes in time, you'll forget. He'll get you something sweet from a local restaurant tonight, or offer to paint your nails a pretty color, and do his best to keep you occupied from your sadder thoughts.

And the matter is forgotten. Or so he thinks.

There's an interesting change in you after that conversation. Small changes, slow but sure.

You begin to sit quietly in the evenings while Alhaitham reads and Kaveh creates, working on your own little projects. You draw. You write. You started taking up embroidery, and Alhaitham (to Kaveh's surprise) agreed to get you some materials since you'd asked him in a shockingly submissive, subdued manner. It meant you were learning, Alhaitham said, and that deserved a reward. Most evenings you settle down and embroider large swatches of fabric, drawing on designs first before meticulously stitching them.

You don't argue as much. When it looks like you might lose your cool, Kaveh can see you biting your lip, clenching your fists, fighting down the words you want to say in favor of working with whatever Alhaitham wants you to do.

You start to talk more at shared mealtimes, even engaging Alhaitham in conversation on something that isn't "give me my freedom, you unbelievable asshole." You politely ask what he's been reading. You ask him his opinion on fireworks or how good he is at games of chance. You ask Kaveh the same.

It's cute. Kaveh thinks you're starting to get more used to the pair of them, even Alhaitham, and while he has no qualms about taking advantage of your aversion for Alhaitham to gather you in his arms, it is rather nice to see you getting along with scribe instead of spitting at him like a half-wild cat.

Until one morning when you waltz into the dining room wearing an outfit that neither one of them has purchased for you. An outfit made from familiar fabric, all decorated with embroidered flowers. Your hair is styled, and you've decorated your face with some of the makeup Kaveh has bought for you over time, even decorating your cheek with a pretty little flower drawn with a brush and potted eyeliner.

Alhaitham's eyes immediately narrow and look to Kaveh, as if he knows (and he's right) that Kaveh is to blame for whatever is going on. Kaveh's throat is so tight that it hurts when he swallows.

You're oblivious to it all, wearing a smile that can only be described as "drunk with happiness." You look at Alhaitham and then at Kaveh and ask the simple question--

"Are you ready to go?"

Alhaitham sets down the mug of coffee he'd be cradling and merely stares at you. His question is slow and careful.

"Where do you think we're going?"

There's a little hitch in your breath. Kaveh sees how one of your legs takes a half-step back, faltering. But you recover quickly and smile, eager and bright.

"The festival." You gesture to your clothes, and pat your hair, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry, I overdid it a little. Um, I can paint flowers on you too, if you want them..."

Alhaitham doesn't respond, and you must take it for irritation at your suggestion, because you duck your head and apologize.

"Or-or not. Sorry. I didn't know if you'd want to dress up." You smile a thin, almost prim smile, and Kaveh can see the nervousness that's crept into your face, your body language. You know something's amiss, but you don't know what just yet.

Alhaitham keeps his face remarkably neutral when he delivers the first blow.

"We aren't going to any festival."

It stings, it really does, that your first instinct is to look at Kaveh with your wide, confused eyes.

"But Kaveh said--"

Alhaitham's head immediately snaps back towards Kaveh and if looks could kill, Kaveh would be dead on the spot.

"It doesn't matter what Kaveh said. I didn't agree to go to any festival."

Kaveh can see the way the bottom of your jaw begins to quiver, the way your bottom lip trembles with it. You swallow and wrap your arms around yourself in a protective gesture.

"But he said... he said if I had something to wear..." Your fingers play with the hem of your sleeves, which you embroidered with a spray of wildflowers. "So... so I made something."

You look up at the scribe hopefully, but Alhaitham doesn't budge.

"I never permitted any festival trip. You know that you aren't allowed out of the house. Now go take that off and--"

Your voice is choked when you interrupt, and you raise your tone at Alhaitham for the first time in a long time. For the first time since Kaveh told you that you could go to the festival, if you had something to wear.

"No!" The word is unacceptable, and you know it, and Kaveh knows it, and Alhaitham knows it, but you say it anyway. "Kaveh said we could go to the festival if--"

You stop when Kaveh says your name. He rarely interrupts when you and Alhaitham are going at it, because it's not his place, but this time.. it's his mess, for once, and he is the one who needs to pick up the pieces.

You look to him, a tearful sort of hope in your eyes. You're probably thinking that Kaveh is going to step forward and tell Alhaitham that he did say that, and that you will go to the festival. Maybe you think he'll talk Alhaitham into it, promise that you'll stay by their side the whole time, or only stay for a few hours before leaving. You think, regardless of the details, that for once Kaveh is going to stick up for you.

You don't think it for long.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that you could go to the festival. I wasn't thinking." Kaveh offers a frown. "I didn't think you'd be able to get an outfit together."

His voice is soft and measured, but he can see the way his words hit you, all the same.

"But I did make one and--"

Kaveh holds up his hand.

"I know. And it's very pretty, and you did such a wonderful job. But we can't go to the festival. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

You look at him and then at Alhaitham and back to him in quick succession.

"But you said." The last word is pinched and tight and Kaveh can see your throat working, swallowing, barely able to get the words out due to your emotions.

Kaveh offers his sympathy smile, but you're like a frightened deer, too wild and upset to take anything from it.

"I know. I was wrong." He gestures to your outfit. "Take it off, and we'll get you dressed in something else and have a nice quiet day together, okay?" He thinks to promise you treats or something from the market, but a reminder that you can't leave the house might not be the best idea.

It doesn't matter.

You shake your head. Your eyes are glassy again, full of pain and something that makes Kaveh's stomach feel sick--the hurt of betrayal.

"Kaveh, you said... you said we could go."

He repeats your name, a bit firmly now, and holds out his hands for the outfit you've made. And you're so unused to Kaveh talking with you with anything resembling sternness that you let out the softest little gasp, a hiccupping little cry that feels like a knife in his heart. Poor him. Poor you.

Your hands shake terribly as you undo the outfit you've made, pulling at straps you've stitched in to tie it altogether. Some of your tears drip onto the fabric.

The outfit slips off your body, and Kaveh takes it and drapes it over his arms, leaving you standing in front of them in your undergarments, arms limp at your side. The simpleness of your underclothes contrasted against the pretty way you've done your hair and the makeup on your face is striking.

The radiant smile and jubilant energy that has been replaced with you crying, body shaking with sobs that come out all choked, is painful to see. So is the way that the flower on your cheek has become distorted from tears running through it. It's an almost ridiculous visual representative of what is swirling through your chest and heart and soul right now--another dream of yours, taken away, crumpled up, ruined.

Kaveh wants to comfort you. Wants to hug you and kiss away those lovely tears. But he knows it would only hurt you more.

For once it's Alhaitham who directs you. Not in the sweet, soft way that Kaveh might have. Alhaitham doesn't wipe away your tears and kiss away your sorrows. But he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes gently, redirecting you to the bathroom, where he will no doubt have you remove your makeup and undo your hair and tell you to remember that he's doing all this for your benefit.

The "I told you so, I told you that you'd spoil them too much one day" look Alhaitham gives him hurts, because for once, his landlord-roommate-captor-in-arms is right. He shouldn't have told you whatever you wanted to hear, just to calm you down. He should have thought things through, been more careful with his wording.

Hearing your choked sobs from the bathroom, only dimly muffled by the running water of the sink, is more than enough evidence.

It wasn't fair to give you hope that things were going to change for you. Because, as wrong as Kaveh knows it is, you're going to be with them for a long, long time. But you won't be living an open life. You won't be going to festivals or attending the markets or strolling the public gardens, talking to neighbors, making friends. You'll be here, with them and only them, where you belong, always and forever.

Letting you pretend otherwise is just cruel.

a headcannon that nobody asked for! overprotective itoshi brothers

if there's one thing that sae and rin can at least get along and agree with, is that no one ever touches their baby sister aka you. like we're talking about no boys breathing within a 1 meter radius from wherever you're standing or they're getting it type of overprotective.

and if anyone tries to cross that border, well, get ready to pray for their sorry asses for even attempting to do such thing.

so when the infamous u20 vs blue lock match was happening, you bet your ass sae and rin (telepathically) were both "concerned" for your being knowing that they'll have to face the most dreading question one could ever ask the two brothers,

"who's that chick that has the same long under lashes like you?"

you were seated at the VIP area where all the rest of the teams families were also staying at. you noticed some had their player's respective jerseys on. you on the other hand, having brothers on both opposing teams, you could only do so much. you only had one balloon from each team in each hand.

hey, it's the thought that counts.

the first half of the match just ended and that means it was time for the half time. there, you took the opportunity to cheer for your two brothers, so they were aware of your presence.

"sae-nii! rin-nii! over here~♡" you wave

even if they were both on the opposite sides of the field, both sae and rin simultaneously looked up to find your voice

and of course that also means that their nosy teammates are also looking at your direction because, what do you mean there was another itoshi that they did not know about?

(both brothers purposely left out the vital information that they did in fact have a little sister because you know..)

"woah! who's that cute chick" otoya was the first to jump on rin. followed by karuso who also said the same thing

"rin, you have a little sister?" isagi joins in the little circle surrounding rin who looked like he was gonna bite somebody's head off.

"she's pretty" chigiri comments, also looking up at you. "long under lashes really run in the family~" bachira says in a singsong voice, waving at you

"everyone shut up!" rin barks, breaking away from the little circle that formed. by little i mean almost the entirety of the blue lock team (yes. including the bench warmers)

"rin-nii~ don't be mean" you yell from above, poking your tongue at him. rin gives you a "not the time' look that he usually gives you at home but to you it was fun to see rin so worked up because you know he's the one that gets verbal when it comes to you

there was a sense of satisfaction when you hear his team laughed and teased rin. choruses of:

"yeah rin-nii chan don't be mean to us~☆"

"just tell us her name, rin! we won't bother you again!"

"if i pass you the ball, would you give me her number?"

on the other side of the field, there was only one person sae has to look out for and that was no other than the man, the myth, the demon himself, shidou ryusei

when your familiar voice rang through sae's ears, you can only imagine what his face was. he clicks his tongue in annoyance and hesitantly looks up at your direction, wary that his teammates would also be looking with him

to his dismay, some were looking with him because who had the guts to call sae like that out in the open?

"she's hot isn't she, under lashes senpai~" he hears shidou tease behind him. sae reacts to this by giving him a good ol' wack on the head.

"that's my sister, you demon" sae spat, internally grimacing that shidou had those kind of thoughts about you. no, not on sae's watch. although, the realization only dawns upon sae that he just openly admitted that he had a sister

shidou somehow lived up to his insect nickname by jumping and zooming around sae in happiness or he says "i'm releasing dophamine~♡". while also screaming about how he now has dibs on you.

"you fucking demon. she's off limits"

sae may be shorter than shidou but damn, can he really threaten someone like it was nothing. shidou lowkey cowers in fear but he doesn't let that get to his head. in fact, he thinks this might be one hell of an opportunity to push the prodigy genius off the edge for once in his life

"if i score a hat trick, i'm getting her number. bet?" shidou proposes in a sing song voice. this agitates sae further. quickly shutting his offer with a simple, "hell no."

"then.. can i get yours instead?"

"if it means you backing away from my sister then i'll consider"