Yandere X Reader - Blog Posts

vei sama i have a request pwetty pls may i get yandere!monster x m reader it can be scenarios or oneshot or even a drabble i am so hungry for your writing

𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ( y! naga x m! human reader )

yandere! naga x m! human reader

warnings:

kidnapping

creepy + stalking behavior

dubcon/noncon

oh and some venom poisoning

brief mentions of corpses

first post here so idk what to add help

thank you for requesting pookie 🙏🙏 this almost went into smut territory ngl but i remember u said u only want a little bit of sexy so i'll end it right there hehe + i think its better for it to stop right there too so :)) hope you love this one since i know you like snake bois 🎀🎀

✾ | you are a hunter, a monster hunter, to be exact; stalking predators under the safety of shadows, silently prowling, avidly watching.

✾ | you have always known the dangers ever since you were but a little boy, ever since your father fell victim to the large amount of dangerous beast leeching their hide in the darkness of the woods.

✾ | but being a monster hunter has its perks—money, for one—and you are never one to deny yourself, especially when you have the perfect set of skills that would make the job much, much easier.

✾ | the request that forever alters the fate of your life comes in a murky, rainy evening, brought to you by a young survivor who lived to tell the tale.

✾ | the heaving man with haunted eyes comes to you immediately, pace frantic as he pushes through the crowded tavern to hand you a heavy bag of gold.

✾ | "this is only a quarter of it," he says as he pants, a hand shivering as he holds on to his own cloth. "i want you to kill the hideous beast hiding in the cave. i want him dead by the morrow."

✾ | by the time the clouds above has parted enough to let way for the moonlight to shine on the damp earth below, you are already in gear, striding into the forest with a rabid-like smile.

✾ | if only you had known that, this time, the monster you'd thought would be your prey, has been eagerly awaiting your presence all this time.

✾ | as you wait near the cave, searching for signs of life from a safe distance, your predator is all smiles, feasting on your figure from afar, unseen, patient.

✾ | when you think to yourself there is no monster hiding inside the cave, nothing but a mountain of corpses and bones that's putrid smell crawls under your skin, the creature lunges from the shadows, presence felt before seen.

✾ | your weapon helplessly clatters to the ground before the creature swiftly seizes both your wrists behind your back with a single, powerful hand. then, a cruel, slithering tail entwines your lower body, coils tightening around you with inescapable force, rendering you immobile in the creature's grasp.

✾ | you cannot run, so you twist your neck for a glimpse, only for both awe and horror to fill your lungs. it almost leaves you breathless.

✾ | you realize that the creature that has captured you is a naga, a serpent guardian, a half-human and half-snake, feared and revered in equal measure.

✾ | his upper body is unmistakably human, with muscular arms and a face that is both eerily beautiful and terrifyingly alien. his lower body, however, is a massive, sinuous tail, its powerful coils tightening around you with every passing second.

✾ | the naga smiles at you, and an instinctive shiver wracks your body, a distant part of your mind realizing that, somehow, the naga has been patiently waiting for this, for all of this, for you.

✾ | the naga's grip tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat of his scorching breath against your skin.

✾ | slowly, almost deliberately, he laps at your trembling neck with his forked tongue. the twin tips of his tongue flicker over your pulse point, sending hot shivers down your spine.

✾ | and then, without warning, he plunges his sharp teeth into your neck, a searing pain radiating from the puncture wounds, a breathless gasp escaping your lips.

✾ | you can feel his venom coursing through your veins, a burning heat spreading from the bite as your vision blurs and your limbs grow heavy. it takes hold quickly, the venom rendering you completely powerless against him.

"You are adorable, little hunter," the naga says, sweetly. He releases his hold on your hands, now that you are unable to struggle, and cradles you against him, pressing you flush against his upper body, as if to soothe you.

His hand carefully caresses your cheek as he looks down at you, smiling gently, almost proudlike. "A human who acts like we are prey, a human who thinks himself better than us. How rare it is to find a piece of treasure like yourself."

With the last of your strength, not yet rendered useless by the venom, you turn your head away, only for his fingers to catch your chin, tilting your gaze back to him.

"I have been watching," he croons, "for quite some time now. My eyes have always followed you, whenever you stepped foot into these woods."

Your breath hitches at the confirmation, but even more so at how utterly enamored the naga sounds as he says those haunting words.

"My little hunter, my adorable treasure. Your presence has tempted me for so very long now. I could no longer ignore it, especially when I imagined how exquisite you would look under my grasp."

You feel utterly helpless, and it doesn’t help when he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “So I made a plan.”

You close your eyes, but you can still feel the naga’s gaze piercing into you.

"The man who gave you this job—a frail, pathetic-looking man, wasn’t he? It was I who sent him.” He laughs, a cruel and chilling sound. "It was I who ordered him to find you, to send you here, so you could be all mine."

A soft kiss is pressed against your cheek, and you suppress your urge to vomit.

"I'm glad you arrived here safely, my little hunter. I am so utterly happy, so utterly famished to taste you, to taste everything of you."

His heavy breath is against your ear now, and you can feel him grin as he asks, "You would want that too, wouldn't you?"

You open your eyes, see the crazed look in his slitted eyes, and tremble once more. "There is no need for such fear in your eyes, my sweet darling. I am not your villain," he sing songs.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

"I am not your predator, and nor are you my prey."

Your jaw clenches as your mind spins and spins and spins.

The naga chuckles at your expression, wanting to forever etch it into his mind. "You and I. We will only ever be each other's. I am yours, and you are mine."

"Beast," you finally spit out, venom lacing your voice.

The naga pauses, his eyes widening, before an absolutely elated expression crosses over his face. He seems terribly sated as he, so very slowly, whispers to you his greatest and utmost desire, "I am your beast. Forever."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖂𝖔𝖑𝖋

Yandere prince x AFAB single mother reader

Chapter 1

Y/N’s life revolves around one thing—her daughter, Isabelle. Working tirelessly to make ends meet, she’s used to long hours, small joys, and the quiet strength it takes to raise a child on her own. The last thing she expects is for their ordinary trip to the mall to catch the attention of Lucien Laurent—the cold, calculating crown prince known for his sharp tongue and colder heart. But something about Y/N and her daughter cracks through the prince’s icy facade. Lucien has never been one to want a family, yet he finds himself drawn to the warmth Y/N radiates—the laughter she shares with Isabelle, the way she faces life’s hardships without flinching. For the first time, the crown prince, feared by many and admired by all, wants something more. What starts as curiosity spirals into obsession. Lucien doesn’t ask for things—he takes them. And now, he’s set his sights on Y/N and Isabelle, determined to claim them as his own, no matter the cost. But love born from power is a dangerous thing. Y/N must navigate the delicate balance between protecting her daughter, keeping her freedom, and surviving the suffocating luxury of palace walls. Because when a prince decides you belong to him… escape is never simple. How far would you go to protect the ones you love when the most powerful man in the kingdom refuses to let you go?

The crisp morning air hung heavy with the weight of duty and expectation. Outside the grand palace gates, reporters jostled for position, cameras flashing like restless fireflies. Royal appearances were rare, and when the crown prince himself was involved, the media swarmed like vultures scenting fresh prey.

Lucien Reinhardt stepped out of the towering marble archway, the sunlight catching on the gold trim of his tailored charcoal suit. He moved with the precision of a man who owned the ground beneath his feet—calculated, unyielding, and wholly uninterested in the spectacle before him. His face, carved from cold stone, betrayed nothing. No warmth. No irritation. Just a sculpted mask of aloof indifference.

Where his father, King Aldric, waved to the crowd with the practiced charm of a seasoned ruler, and his mother, Queen Victoria, smiled gracefully for the cameras, Lucien barely spared them a glance. The weight of the crown, though not yet upon his head, had long since shaped his demeanor into one of quiet, domineering authority.

“Lucien, at least pretend to be approachable,” murmured his younger sister, Adrielle, adjusting the lapel of her silk blazer as she stepped beside him. Her tone was light, teasing, but there was an edge of nervousness. No one truly relaxed around Lucien—not even family.

He didn’t respond. He never did when the conversation was trivial.

The sleek, obsidian-black car pulled up to the curb, polished to a mirror shine. The royal crest glinted on the hood, subtle yet unmistakable. A uniformed driver rushed to open the door, bowing his head respectfully. Lucien stepped forward without acknowledgment, his strides purposeful, each movement economical and restrained.

Inside the car, the air was hushed, thick with unspoken tension. King Aldric slid in beside him, adjusting his cufflinks with the slow, deliberate movements of a man who valued appearances above all else. Across from them, Queen Victoria and Adrielle exchanged glances.

“You could smile once in a while,” the queen ventured, her voice soft but pointed.

Lucien’s sharp, emerald-green eyes flicked toward her, unreadable. “Smiling doesn’t win wars. It breeds familiarity. Familiarity breeds complacency.”

His father chuckled dryly, though there was little humor in it. “Always the strategist. But today isn’t a battle, Lucien. It’s a charity event. Kissing babies, shaking hands—the usual charade.”

Lucien turned his gaze toward the tinted window, watching the city blur past. Even the bustling streets of the capital, with their vibrant storefronts and bustling crowds, seemed muted through his detached lens.

“A charade,” he echoed, voice devoid of inflection. “That’s exactly what it is.”

It wasn’t disdain, exactly, that colored his words. It was something colder. Lucien Reinhardt didn’t waste emotions on things he couldn’t control, and the theater of royalty was one of them. His focus remained where it had always been: securing power, eliminating threats, and ensuring nothing and no one could ever undermine the empire his family had built.

To the world, he was the perfect crown prince—distant, composed, and ruthlessly efficient. To those who dared to know him beyond the polished surface, he was something far more dangerous: a man who didn’t need warmth to command loyalty, only results.

As the car glided through the palace gates and toward the city center, Lucien folded his hands in his lap, thumb brushing the crest embroidered into his glove.

He was already calculating the day’s itinerary. Meetings. Photographs. Public appearances.

The bustling mall echoed with cheerful chatter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods lingering in the air. It was an event carefully crafted for good publicity—royalty mingling with commoners under the guise of generosity. Bright banners hung from the railings, boasting the royal crest alongside slogans of unity and charity.

Lucien Reinhardt stood at the edge of it all, a silent storm amid a sea of smiles.

His father, King Aldric, moved through the crowd with the ease of a man born into power, shaking hands and flashing a politician's smile. His mother, Queen Victoria, laughed softly as she crouched down to accept a bouquet from a wide-eyed little girl, her golden crown catching the light. Even Adrielle, ever the perfect royal daughter, posed for selfies with teenagers who squealed as they pressed close.

Lucien, on the other hand, stood near the marble fountain in the center of the atrium, arms crossed over the immaculate cut of his charcoal-gray suit. His emerald gaze swept the scene without interest, calculating and cold.

"Sir," a frazzled event coordinator approached, nervously adjusting her headset. "The children’s charity booth would love a photo with you. It would mean a lot to them."

Lucien didn’t move. His expression didn’t flicker.

"No."

The woman blinked, clearly thrown off by the blunt refusal. "B-But it’s for the press, Your Highness. It would—"

"I said no." His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of absolute authority.

The coordinator stammered an apology before scurrying away, leaving Lucien in the company of his own disinterest. He wasn’t here for pleasantries. He was here because the crown demanded it, and the crown always demanded sacrifice—time, autonomy, humanity.

"Do try not to look like you're plotting a coup, brother," Adrielle teased as she strolled past, her designer heels clicking against the marble floor. She waved to a group of college students snapping photos. "At least pretend you enjoy being adored."

Lucien didn’t spare her a glance. "Adoration is fleeting. Power is not."

"Gods, you're insufferable," she muttered, rolling her eyes before rejoining the crowd.

The event dragged on. Speeches, handshakes, forced laughter. Lucien fulfilled only the bare minimum of his duties—standing silently during his father’s address, posing stiffly for official photographs, ignoring the hopeful eyes of children who didn’t understand that royalty was nothing more than polished chains.

His mind drifted elsewhere—to reports awaiting his review, to negotiations that actually mattered. The world beyond this glittering facade.

But then, a glimpse of something—someone—caught his eye near the far end of the atrium. A woman, balancing a toddler on her hip while juggling grocery bags, standing just outside the cordoned-off VIP area. She wasn’t watching the royal family like everyone else. She was too busy adjusting the strap of her worn purse and wiping a sticky hand off her shirt.

Ordinary. Unremarkable. Yet, for the first time that day, Lucien’s gaze lingered.

He couldn't explain why.

And, as quickly as the moment came, he dismissed it. Just another face in the crowd.

Turning away, Lucien adjusted his cufflinks and waited for the day to end, unaware that the very life he found so mundane would soon entangle itself irreversibly with his own.

Lucien exhaled slowly, the forced smiles and rehearsed conversations grating on his patience. He stood at the edge of the bustling event, perfectly poised and yet entirely detached. His family, ever the picture of regal warmth, continued to charm the crowd. The cameras loved them.

No one was paying attention to him.

Perfect.

With practiced ease, Lucien stepped back, slipping past the velvet ropes and into the quieter, less glamorous corridors of the mall. These were the arteries of the building, where staff bustled with carts of supplies and cleaning crews worked unnoticed.

His polished shoes echoed softly against the tiled floor, the sound swallowed by the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Here, away from prying eyes and expectations, Lucien found a sliver of peace.

He adjusted the cufflinks of his charcoal-gray suit, the crest of his family glinting in the dim light. His emerald gaze flickered over the rows of plain service doors and unremarkable signage. The world behind the scenes was stripped of pretense—functional, efficient, and refreshingly honest.

If only the rest of life could be so simple.

A janitor passed by, barely sparing him a glance. Lucien preferred it that way. Invisibility suited him far more than the hollow adoration of the public.

He turned a corner, pausing by a vending machine as his phone vibrated in his pocket. A message from Adrielle flashed across the screen:

"Where the hell did you go? Dad's looking for you. Stop brooding and smile for the cameras like a good prince."

Lucien scoffed, slipping the phone back into his pocket without replying. Let them look. Let them wonder. He didn’t owe them his presence.

As he moved farther down the corridor, the sounds of the event faded into a distant murmur. It was in moments like this, away from the weight of the crown, that Lucien could almost believe he was just a man. Not a prince. Not an heir. Just… himself.

But peace never lasted long.

A soft laugh echoed from around the corner, pulling his attention. It was light, unguarded—the kind of sound that didn’t belong in a place like this. Curious despite himself, Lucien rounded the bend and found the source.

A woman.

She was crouched down, balancing a toddler on her hip while fumbling with a reusable shopping bag that had clearly seen better days. The child, a little girl with dark curls and wide brown eyes, clutched a half-eaten cookie in one hand while the other tugged at her mother’s hair.

The woman muttered something under her breath, clearly exasperated but smiling nonetheless.

“Isabelle,” she sighed, adjusting the child on her hip. “If you get crumbs in my hair again, I’m selling you to the highest bidder.”

The toddler giggled, utterly unbothered by the empty threat.

Lucien froze.

There was nothing remarkable about them, not in the traditional sense. No designer clothes, no polished facade. Just a mother and child, navigating life with the kind of ease forged through routine struggle.

And yet, he found himself rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold like it was something precious.

Lucien leaned against the cold concrete wall of the service corridor, half-hidden behind the arch leading back into the bustling heart of the mall. The polished marble floors reflected the overhead lights, and the hum of idle chatter drifted through the air.

He had no real reason to linger. His family was still caught up in the fanfare of the charity event, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, and smiling for the cameras. Lucien had long mastered the art of disappearing without notice—silent footsteps, a sharp turn, and he was gone.

Now, he stood in the quiet hallway between storefronts, watching.

Her.

The woman stood near the entrance of a small clothing boutique, balancing two shopping bags in one hand and a lukewarm coffee in the other. Her clothes were practical, worn but clean, the kind chosen by someone who had little room for luxury in her budget.

Y/N.

He didn’t know her name yet, but he’d heard one of her friends call out something that sounded like it.

Her daughter, a whirlwind of brown curls and boundless energy, darted between clothing racks with an infectious kind of joy. The little girl clutched a worn plush bunny in one hand, its fabric faded from too many hugs and washes.

Lucien’s gaze lingered on the woman’s face. There was a calmness to her, the kind of patience born from necessity rather than nature. She didn’t scold the child for running around, didn’t look irritated or rushed.

She simply waited.

One of her friends, a woman with a fussy toddler on her hip, chuckled. “Isabelle’s got energy for days.”

Y/N smiled, tired but warm. “She always does. I figure she’ll tire herself out eventually. It’s just a matter of waiting for her out.”

Waiting for her out.

Lucien tilted his head, intrigued by the quiet strength in her words. Most people—his family included—had no patience for waiting. Everything was rushed, scheduled, calculated. But this woman? She stood in the middle of a crowded mall, sipping cold coffee and watching her daughter spin in circles, as if she had all the time in the world.

Isabelle eventually slowed, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. She toddled back toward her mother, who crouched down, brushing curls from the child’s face and handing her a water bottle.

“Thirsty now, huh?” Y/N teased gently.

The little girl nodded, sipping noisily.

Lucien’s eyes flicked between them, sharp and calculating. They weren’t remarkable by societal standards—no designer labels, no glittering jewelry, no signs of wealth. Just a mother and daughter, living life quietly and without pretense.

It was… grounding.

The kind of life he’d never known.

Y/N stood, waving off her friends as they drifted toward the food court. “We’ll catch up later. I promised this one we’d check out the sale racks.”

Lucien followed, steps silent as he trailed them from a distance. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to the scene. Curiosity? Fascination?

Possession?

Y/N flipped through the clearance section with practiced ease, fingers brushing over price tags as if mentally calculating which pieces would stretch her budget the furthest.

Nearby, Isabelle tugged at her mother’s sleeve, pointing excitedly at a rack of costume jewelry. Tiny, sparkling charms dangled from the display, each priced low enough for a child’s allowance.

Y/N chuckled. “We’ll see, Isa. Clothes first, remember?”

Lucien leaned against the edge of a column, half-hidden in shadow.

He could leave. Should leave.

But he didn’t.

He stayed, watching as Y/N found a lavender dress tucked between mismatched tops. She held it up, smiling faintly before glancing at the price tag. Her smile dimmed.

Too much, even at a discount.

Lucien’s jaw tightened.

He’d seen his mother drop more money on a single glass of champagne at last night’s gala. Yet here stood this woman, weighing the worth of a child’s dress against her next grocery run.

It wasn’t pity that rooted him in place.

It was something colder.

Sharper.

I could fix that.

The thought slid into his mind unbidden, smooth as silk and just as dangerous.

Y/N placed the dress back on the rack with a resigned sigh and turned her attention to more practical finds—plain shirts, sturdy jeans, nothing frivolous.

Isabelle didn’t seem to mind. She had already moved on to inspecting tiaras, giggling as she tried one on and admired herself in the mirror.

Lucien stayed there for a long while, unmoving.

Watching.

Waiting.

And when they finally left the store, arms full of carefully chosen bargains and cheap trinkets, Lucien followed—not close enough to be noticed, but near enough to keep them within his sights.

He didn’t know what he was planning.

But he knew one thing with certainty.

He wasn’t done watching them.

Lucien's footsteps were silent as he trailed behind the mother and daughter, weaving through the bustling crowd without drawing attention. Years of carefully cultivated discipline ensured that no one spared him a second glance. His family’s presence at the charity event had drawn enough focus to the main atrium of the mall—no one would expect the crown prince to slip away unnoticed.

And yet, here he was.

Y/N walked ahead, one hand clutching her shopping bags while the other kept a gentle hold on Isabelle's wrist, guiding her through the throng of shoppers. The little girl bounced with each step, practically skipping as she chattered about the sparkly tiara she’d admired.

“Maybe next time,” Y/N promised, voice soft and patient. “We’ve already got plenty today, Isa.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked down to the bags in her grasp—practical clothes, sturdy fabrics, and a small bag from the discount jewelry stand.

Nothing extravagant.

Nothing unnecessary.

Efficient. Responsible.

He shouldn’t have cared. Shouldn’t have been intrigued by the way she balanced indulgence and practicality so effortlessly.

And yet…

They reached the heart of the mall—an extravagant, multi-level playground built to entertain restless children while parents lingered nearby. Vibrant slides twisted around faux tree trunks, rope bridges connected platforms painted like canopies, and a soft, cushioned floor mimicked grassy terrain.

Isabelle squealed with delight and tugged at her mother’s hand.

“Go on,” Y/N laughed, letting her daughter go. “I’ll be right here.”

Lucien drifted to the shadows beneath the second-floor balcony, leaning against the cool glass railing. From here, he had a clear view of everything—the child scaling a plastic rock wall, the mother finding a spot near the coffee cart, and the clusters of other women exchanging quiet conversation.

The mothers gathered in loose circles, sipping overpriced lattes and sharing stories in the universal language of parenthood—sleep schedules, picky eaters, school gossip.

Y/N, however, didn’t isolate herself.

She approached the group with an easy smile, seamlessly slipping into the conversation without hesitation. One of the other women, balancing a fussy toddler on her hip, gestured toward Isabelle, who was now chasing another child across the padded floor.

“She’s got energy for days, huh?”

Y/N chuckled, brushing loose hair from her face. “Like a wind-up toy that never runs out. I keep thinking she’ll crash, but she just keeps going.”

Another mother sighed dramatically. “I’d kill for that energy. Meanwhile, mine starts whining the second we hit the parking lot.”

There was laughter—soft, tired, but genuine.

Lucien watched, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable.

This was a world foreign to him. He’d seen mothers before, of course—at charity events, galas, carefully staged photo ops for magazines. Polished, perfect, children dressed like porcelain dolls and just as fragile.

But Y/N?

There was nothing curated about her. She stood there, coffee in hand, nodding along as another woman offered tips for getting grass stains out of jeans.

“White vinegar,” Y/N added when the conversation lulled. “Works better than half the expensive stuff, and it’s cheaper.”

The woman beside her nodded approvingly. “See, that’s what I need—practical advice. Not ‘buy this $20 stain remover’ nonsense.”

Lucien’s gaze drifted back to Isabelle, who was now sprawled at the top of a slide, chatting animatedly with another child. Carefree. Safe.

Because her mother made it safe.

That realization settled uncomfortably in his chest.

He shouldn’t care.

He shouldn’t find himself intrigued by the way Y/N stood with one eye always on her daughter, attention never fully leaving the playground no matter how engrossed she became in conversation.

And yet, as the minutes ticked by and the coffee cart emptied, Lucien remained in place. Watching.

Waiting.

Calculating.

Y/N didn’t notice him. She laughed with the other mothers, called out gentle warnings to Isabelle when the little girl climbed too high, and shifted her shopping bags from one hand to the other with practiced ease.

It was a simple scene. Ordinary.

But to Lucien, it was captivating.

Because it was real.

And real was something he’d never had.

Not truly.

His hand drifted to the sleek phone in his coat pocket, thumb brushing the power button. He could call the driver, return to the polished facade of royalty and duty waiting for him in the atrium.

Or he could stay.

And watch a little longer.

He chose the latter.

Lucien lingered in the shadows of the mall’s upper level, his sharp gaze fixed on the playground below. Children dashed between jungle gyms and foam obstacles, their laughter rising like a chorus above the bustling shoppers. But his focus never wavered from one child in particular—her child.

Isabelle.

She flitted through the play structure like a butterfly, light on her feet, brown hair bouncing with each hop. Every few moments, she’d glance toward her mother—Y/N—who stood near a coffee cart, chatting with other mothers. The sight of Y/N’s soft smile, her easy laughter, stirred something unfamiliar in Lucien’s chest.

He didn’t belong here, surrounded by noise and warmth. Yet, he couldn’t look away.

Then it happened.

Isabelle, spinning in a circle with a plastic tiara askew on her head, suddenly froze. Her eyes swept the area—and landed directly on him.

Lucien stiffened. He expected her to look past him, like most children did when confronted by someone with his cold, commanding presence.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her face lit up with a mischievous grin.

Before Lucien could step back into the crowd, Isabelle darted toward him, weaving through chatting adults and strollers with practiced ease.

“Hi!” she chirped, stopping right in front of him, tiara now completely sideways.

Lucien blinked. He hadn’t been caught off guard in years.

“Hello,” he replied, voice cool and measured.

Isabelle tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle. “Why are you just standing there?”

Lucien glanced past her. Y/N was still unaware, laughing with another woman, coffee cup in hand.

“I’m watching,” he said simply.

“Watching’s boring.” She wrinkled her nose. “Come play with us!”

He opened his mouth to decline, but Isabelle was already tugging his hand, far too determined for someone so small.

“We’re playing Princess Rescue! I’m the princess, duh,” she declared, flipping her tiara back into place. “But we need a villain. You can be the evil king!”

Lucien blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. Him? The cold, calculating prince, playing make-believe?

“No,” he said flatly, trying to withdraw his hand.

Isabelle giggled, entirely unbothered. “But you look like an evil king! All serious and grumpy.”

From across the playground, other children noticed the interaction. A boy with a plastic sword ran up, eyes wide. “Yeah! He’d be perfect!”

Another girl, dressed in a sparkly tutu, nodded enthusiastically. “He can kidnap Princess Isabelle, and we’ll save her!”

Lucien exhaled slowly, realizing escape was no longer an option. The children had formed a semi-circle around him, their eyes shining with excitement.

“Fine,” he muttered, more to end the conversation than out of any real willingness.

“Yay!” Isabelle cheered, grabbing his hand again. “Okay, Evil King, you have to steal me away!”

Before Lucien could protest, she dramatically threw herself into his arms, like a damsel from a fairytale.

Lucien froze, unsure what to do with the tiny, giggling princess clinging to his coat.

“Run!” one of the children yelled. “Take her to your castle!”

Lucien sighed. He cast one last glance toward Y/N, who was blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding.

And then, with the resigned grace of a man who’d lost control of the situation, he adjusted Isabelle in his arms and took a single, deliberate step back.

The children shrieked with laughter, already giving chase.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Lucien—the cold, untouchable prince—found himself playing along.

An evil king, indeed.

“Wait… is that…?”

Y/N frowned and turned to look, her breath catching in her throat.

There, among the bright plastic slides and scattered foam blocks, stood Lucien.

The Lucien.

The man known for his cold demeanor, untouchable presence, and calculating gaze. The same man who could silence an entire room with a single glance.

And he was currently holding Isabelle in his arms, pretending to be some kind of evil king, judging by the dramatic scowl on his face.

The children shrieked in delight, brandishing foam swords and plastic wands as they chased him. Isabelle, tiara slightly askew, was giggling so hard she could barely catch her breath.

“Is that… Prince Lucien?” another mother, Clara, whispered, nearly dropping her coffee.

“No way,” Leah muttered, her jaw practically on the floor. “He looks like he’s… playing.”

Y/N blinked, unable to reconcile the image in front of her with the man she’d only ever seen in stern photographs and fleeting news clips. There was no coldness in his expression now—just reluctant amusement and an almost imperceptible softness as he carefully dodged foam projectiles.

“Mommy!” Isabelle called, waving excitedly as Lucien swung her around like a sack of potatoes. “The evil king kidnapped me!”

Lucien caught Y/N’s gaze for the briefest moment. His usual sharp eyes held something different—something warmer, more alive.

Y/N swallowed thickly.

“Well,” she muttered, voice tinged with disbelief, “I guess even evil kings have their soft spots.”

The other mothers exchanged stunned glances, but no one dared interrupt the surreal moment.

After all, how often did you see a man like Lucien willingly wear a foam crown and accept defeat at the hands of a tutu-wearing army?

The murmurs started almost immediately.

“I knew he had a soft spot,” Leah whispered, her eyes practically sparkling as she watched Lucien stumble back, hands raised in mock surrender as the tiny army of princesses and knights swarmed him.

Clara, still clutching her half-forgotten coffee, chuckled. “You don’t carry yourself like that without hiding a heart somewhere under all that cold exterior. It’s always the stoic ones who melt for kids.”

Another mother, arms crossed and smiling, added, “He’s surprisingly patient. Look at how he’s letting them ‘capture’ him.”

Y/N sipped her coffee quietly, eyes fixed on the scene. Isabelle sat proudly on Lucien’s shoulders, waving her foam sword like a banner. Lucien, for all his usual aloofness, stood perfectly still, allowing the little girl to declare victory while the other kids cheered around them.

The sight tugged at something deep in Y/N’s chest.

“Excuse me,” she murmured with a soft smile, stepping away from the group.

Y/N moved gracefully across the playground, weaving between the running children with practiced ease. The chatter of the other mothers faded behind her as she approached the scene of Lucien’s “defeat.”

“Alright, little conquerors,” she called out, her voice light but firm. “I think the evil king has learned his lesson. How about we let him go before he turns into a grumpy dragon?”

Lucien shot her a glance, sharp eyes softening the moment they met hers.

Isabelle gasped dramatically. “A dragon?”

Y/N nodded, crouching down to eye level with the kids. “Oh, yes. Evil kings turn into grumpy dragons if they stay captured for too long. And grumpy dragons don’t like sharing snacks.”

That did the trick.

One by one, the kids released their hold on Lucien, already chattering about their next game.

“Let’s play explorers!” one shouted.

“No, pirates!” another countered.

Lucien exhaled quietly, adjusting Isabelle on his hip as Y/N stood beside him.

“Saved by the queen herself,” he murmured, voice dry but amused.

Y/N glanced up at him, lips curling into a faint smile. “Well, someone had to rescue you from the tiny terrors.”

Lucien didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there, watching as Isabelle joined her friends in their new adventure, her laughter ringing through the air.

For a moment, the cold, brooding prince looked almost… content.

Lucien adjusted his cuffs, an almost sheepish look flickering across his otherwise composed face. "I didn’t think I’d spend my afternoon being dethroned by toddlers."

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as she watched Isabelle rally her troops for their next grand quest. “Well, that’s what you get for standing too close to a playground. Rookie mistake.”

He arched a brow, the sharpness of his usual demeanor softened by the faint curve of his lips. “And you just let it happen?”

“I thought it was character-building,” she teased. “Besides, it’s not every day you see the Lucien practically begging for mercy from a five-year-old princess.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, something rare and almost boyish. “Mercy was never granted, in case you missed that detail.”

“I saw.” Y/N leaned in slightly, mock-serious. “You’re lucky I intervened. I’m pretty sure they were about to knight Isabelle and name her ruler of the mall.”

Lucien tilted his head, eyes narrowing in exaggerated consideration. “Better her than some of the leaders I’ve had to work with.”

The two stood there for a moment, caught in an unexpected pocket of peace amid the chaos of the bustling mall. Y/N found herself studying him—the way the harsh lines of his face softened when he wasn’t wearing the weight of his title, the way his shoulders relaxed just slightly in the presence of innocent laughter.

Before she could dwell on it, the crisp shuffle of polished shoes on tile broke the moment.

“Your Highness,” one of Lucien’s guards approached, looking equal parts apologetic and exasperated. “The car is ready. Your parents are waiting.”

Lucien’s jaw ticked, the easy warmth in his eyes cooling back into something more familiar—detached, aloof. He nodded once before glancing back at Y/N.

“Looks like my reign in the playground has officially ended.”

Y/N smiled, tilting her head toward Isabelle, who was now trying to convince her friends to build a “princess fortress” out of foam blocks. “I think the new queen will manage just fine without you.”

Lucien hesitated, something unreadable passing across his face. Then, with an almost reluctant step backward, he gave a slight nod.

“Until next time, then.”

Y/N, ever the survivor of chaotic playdates and endless errands, grinned. “Don’t get kidnapped by tiny rebels on your way out.”

The faintest chuckle escaped him as he turned, the guard falling into step beside him.

And just like that, the cold prince was gone, swallowed by duty once more.

Lucien slid into the sleek black car, the door closing with a soft thud that sealed him away from the noise of the bustling mall. The air inside was cool, sterile—just the way he usually liked it. His guards settled into the front, murmuring into their radios, confirming his departure.

But Lucien barely registered it.

He leaned back against the leather seat, hands resting loosely on his thighs, eyes half-lidded as the car pulled away from the curb. Yet, instead of turning his mind toward the usual mental checklist of meetings, policies, and diplomatic nonsense, his thoughts betrayed him.

“You’re lucky I intervened.”

Y/N’s teasing smile flickered in his mind, brighter and warmer than the sun filtering through the tinted windows. There was an ease to her presence, something entirely foreign to the carefully curated world he navigated. She’d stepped into the chaos of children like it was second nature, effortlessly redirecting their boundless energy, saving him from further humiliation without so much as a second thought.

And Isabelle—Princess Isabelle, self-proclaimed ruler of the playground. Her tiny hands tugging at his sleeve, her wide-eyed insistence that he play the role of the villain. How had he let that happen? Him. Lucien. The man is known for his ruthless efficiency and unshakable demeanor, pretending to cackle as he was “banished” by a band of toddlers.

He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing at his reflection in the window.

“Sir?” One of the guards glanced back, clearly noticing the rare moment of distraction etched into Lucien’s otherwise impassive face.

“Nothing,” Lucien muttered, gaze flickering to the passing scenery. Yet, the city streets blurred as his mind betrayed him once more.

The way Y/N had crouched to Isabelle’s level, brushing a stray curl from her daughter’s forehead as they admired discounted jewelry together. The warmth in her laughter when another mother had joked about kids having more energy than world leaders.

Lucien’s fingers tapped absently against his knee. Effortless. Natural. He’d spent years surrounded by people trained to charm, to navigate social intricacies like it was a battlefield. Yet none of them held a candle to the quiet authenticity he’d witnessed that afternoon.

“Shall we head to the palace, Your Highness?” the driver asked, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror.

Lucien hesitated.

“... Take the long route.”

The driver blinked but didn’t question it. The car veered slightly, merging onto a less direct path.

Lucien leaned his head back against the seat, eyes slipping shut. He could still hear the faint echoes of children’s laughter, the soft cadence of Y/N’s voice cutting through the noise.

For the first time in what felt like years, Lucien allowed himself to indulge in the memory. Just a little longer.

The car hummed softly as it sped along the winding road toward the palace, the city lights blurring into golden streaks against the evening sky. Lucien sat in silence, his posture rigid, hands clasped tightly together. Normally, the quiet drive would be a welcome reprieve—a chance to reset, refocus, and push aside distractions.

But not tonight.

His mind betrayed him, looping the same images over and over. Y/N’s patient smile as she crouched beside Isabelle, holding up a glittering tiara that was clearly made of cheap plastic but treated like it was a crown fit for royalty. The way her eyes softened when Isabelle twirled, the little girl’s laughter ringing like bells in the air.

Lucien exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself. What the hell is wrong with me?

Yet, the traitorous thought crept in, unbidden but relentless: What if that was his family?

He could almost see it—the cold, cavernous halls of the palace warmed by childish giggles. Isabelle ran down the grand staircase, arms outstretched, her tiny feet thudding against polished marble as she darted toward him. Y/N trailing behind, breathless but laughing, telling Isabelle to slow down before she tripped.

Would Y/N still smile at him like she had at the mall? Would she stand at his side during tedious diplomatic gatherings, her presence a quiet anchor amidst the meaningless chatter?

The thought twisted something deep in his chest. Lucien had always dismissed the idea of family as frivolous—an obligation for duty's sake, not something to desire.

But this… this wasn’t duty. It was longing.

“Your Highness?” the driver’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. “We’ll arrive at the palace in ten minutes.”

Lucien grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze drifting to the city lights beyond the window. They flickered like stars—beautiful, distant, untouchable.

Just like her, he thought bitterly.

But the image remained, stubborn and vivid. Y/N curled up on the couch beside him, Isabelle asleep in her lap, the soft glow of a forgotten lamp illuminating the room. Peaceful. Domestic. Real.

Lucien closed his eyes, jaw tightening.

He’d never been one to chase fantasies. But this?

This felt dangerously close to something he needed.

The moment Lucien stepped out of the sleek black car, the entire palace seemed to still. The guards standing at attention faltered for just a second. The maids exchanging hushed whispers in the hallway fell silent. Even the ever-stoic butler, who had served the royal family for years, blinked in surprise.

Because Lucien wasn’t scowling.

In fact, there was a distinct lightness in his expression, his usual brooding aura noticeably softened. It wasn’t quite a smile—no, that would be too much—but the sharp edge of his usual cold demeanor had dulled, replaced by something dangerously close to contentment.

His best friend and most trusted guard, Elias, stepped forward, eyeing him warily. “Rough evening?” he asked, expecting the usual grumble about dull conversations and suffocating royal obligations.

Lucien merely hummed, shrugging off his coat with an unusual ease. “Not at all.”

Elias narrowed his eyes. “Did someone die?”

That earned him a sharp glance, but the usual bite behind it was absent. “No.”

“…Did you kill someone?”

Lucien exhaled, shaking his head as he handed his coat to a maid. “I simply had an unexpectedly tolerable day.”

That did nothing to reassure Elias. In fact, it only made his suspicion deepen. The Crown Prince did not have tolerable evenings—especially not at public events.

As Lucien strode through the grand halls, the palace staff cautiously peered from their stations, whispering amongst themselves. The murmurs reached his siblings, who had gathered in the lounge. His eldest sister, Celeste, arched a brow when she saw him pass by, wine glass in hand.

“Lucien,” she called out, stopping him. “You look…” She tilted her head, scrutinizing him like one would examine a rare specimen. “Uncharacteristically… pleasant.”

His younger brother, Adrian, leaned forward on the couch, grinning. “Oh, this is concerning. Did you finally find a hobby other than terrorizing foreign diplomats?”

Lucien shot him a flat look. “Hardly.”

Celeste exchanged a knowing glance with Adrian before smirking. “Ah. So it's someone, not something.”

Lucien didn’t answer, but the faint flicker of something in his gaze was all the confirmation they needed.

“Well, whoever they are,” Celeste mused, taking a sip of wine, “keep them around. It’s nice to see you not looking like you’re planning someone’s assassination for once.”

Lucien scoffed, turning away, but even as he walked off, their words lingered.

Keep them around.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Because Lucien already knew—he had no intention of letting Y/N slip away.

Imagine being a random villager,a peasant,who out of nowhere was offered a job in the castle of the Royal family as a cleaner.their son,the crown Prince,heir to the throne makes you his personal assistant.giving you special treatment,making you eat meals with him,laying his head on your lap and commanding you to brush your fingers through his hair.pulling rank on you when you try to leave for a better job in the south,telling you he'd execute you for high treason if you even uttered those words again,convincing(forcing) you to stay with him even after he marries.moving you into his private quarters while his royal pair is in the west wing of the castle,lonely,confused,downtrodden.holding you at his pair's funeral after their mysterious death,sickness they said.

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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content warnings: yandere themes/behaviours, possessiveness, forced companionship, threatened self harm (not reader), reader can be read as afab or amab

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆:

His royal highness, your sworn liege. You swore an oath, forever binding yourself and your service to him. Knights, of course, he has a plenty. But you? You’re different. Special. He sits above all upon his throne. The burden of his crown is a heavy toll. And unlike the other knights he has in his command, you don’t simply act to obey.

You’re his most trusted advisor alongside being his most loyal soldier. You act to soothe his woes and offer insight. You traverse not just his kingdom but many others on your journey, enabling you to provide a different and rather refreshing perspective. Knights are made to uphold values of honour, loyalty, and nobility but the King has never met one quite as earnest as you.

He remembers the day you were knighted. How you knelt before him and pleaded your eternal loyalty. It’s a fond memory, one he replays whenever your admirers fawn over you or when you go on quests. It acts as a balm to soothe the possessive jealousy that rears its head. And how he loathes your seemingly never ending desire to go on quests. Certainly, before you endeared yourself to him, he hadn’t cared. Attain glory, uphold your honour. It is what knights are meant to do.

Alas, now, he cannot help but detest when you leave. His attempts at making you stay only delay it slightly longer. His orders for your aid, for your company all interrupted by the endless demands for your talents. It drives him mad. You’ve won more than enough glory. You’ve proven your honour and how noble you are countless times.

Stay with him, he’ll grant you every knight’s dream. A castle, large and built with grandeur. And what better castle than his palace? He’ll construct an entire wing, or perhaps an entirely new palace for you. He’ll shower you in all the gold and jewels you could ever want and more. He’ll throw the grandest of feasts and balls in celebration. Whatever your heart desires.

Or perhaps he’ll lock you away in a tower as all mad kings tend to do. Keep his knight all to himself, dressed in the finest silks and draped in exuberant jewelry. Oh, but you’d hate him wouldn’t you? Eyes once filled with shining loyalty showing nothing but contempt and bringing him despair. He couldn’t take it. Yet, he’s slowly and surely waning. Look at what you’ve done to him. Your mighty king beholden to your wishes.

He’s desperate, hungry, yearning for you. His knight, his soldier, his advisor, his confidant. His. Heed his commands, won’t you? For even the kindest rulers committed the worst atrocities when driven mad, and you’ve certainly ignited his descent.

“𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒:

The loveliest damsel across the lands, her highness, the princess. Locked away in a tower by an evil wizard, waiting to be saved by you. Her gallant knight. Do you know how long she’s awaited your arrival? It’s to be expected, of course. Princesses being kidnapped by evil wizards, dragons and other malevolent entities are a common occurrence. As is a knight saving them. It’s destiny.

Certainly other knights have tried before. But all perished at the hands of the wizard who abducted her when she was but a girl and locked her away. She was beginning to think it was hopeless until you came along. Silly her, she knows how it goes. Damsels are saved by honourable knights, then, they live happily ever after. Her entire life she has waited to be saved by you. And now that you have, you’ll wed her of course!

Except you don’t. You refuse to, politely declining her advances. She doesn’t understand. Do you not know how these stories are meant to end? She’s supposed to be your reward, your prize for your heroic deeds. But then, you tell her she’s not a reward, eyes shining earnestly. And oh, even that doesn’t make her fall harder.

No one has ever afforded her autonomy before, she’s always been an object, a prize. It’s like a switch is turned. Suddenly, it’s not a duty, but a desire. She needs you to be by her side. You’re the only person who sees her for who she is.

The princess grows obsessive. She wants to be with you and will do anything to achieve it. Thus, she schemes. She fakes kidnappings and attempted assassinations, all conveniently timed and placed so you’ll be the one to save her. Yes, it may be a tad suspicious but you wouldn’t question her. She’s a hapless damsel and you’re a noble knight, after all.

Of course, she’s not the only damsel you’ve ever saved. She isn’t the first either. But the princess is determined to be the last. Whatever true dangers that require your skills will be shoved to the side when she grows more dramatic with her plots to gain your attention. You must see she’s in need of you. Always in danger. She needs you by her side to protect her.

And if you still refuse to be with her? The princess will have no other option than to take the most drastic measures. You’ll find her up at the edge of the top of the castle’s towers. Dagger poised above her chest, plump eyelashes wet with tears, and a wobbly bottom lip. But in her eyes, all you can see is the madness only lovesick lass could have. She can’t live without you. Thus, you must choose: to be with her or to have the crushing guilt of her death haunt for eternity. Either way, you will hers. Whether through life or death.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨.”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃:

The fiercest creature known to man, the dragon lord is your natural enemy. He is able to shift from dragon to man in a matter of seconds. Not that it matters, of course. For all knights will fall to his prowess. Then, you come along. At first, the dragon lord dismisses you as yet another fool attempting to slay him. He sighs, bored. Stupid mortals and their useless prides. Did they not understand they would never be able to win? He is the best of both worlds, the mightiest of dragons and men.

Yet, you don’t. You don’t try to slay him. You don’t try to steal his treasures. You reason with him. Your sword is a powerful tool, but you’re a reputed charmer for a reasons. Your words are crafted from a silver tongue. There isn’t a hint of the usual arrogance that men of your station usually hold. This intrigues him. Genuineness is something he hasn’t encountered for centuries. Especially not from a mortal. So, he entertains you. He leaves the village he’s terrorizing, not because he’s swayed by your words, more so you amused him. Yes, that’s it. He returns to his cove of golden treasures, not anticipating to waste a single moment thinking back on you.

Unfortunately for the dragon lord, you plague his mind. He’s an old creature, far older than even your kingdom. And he’s been so very bored for so very long. It leads to him shifting into his human form to gain more information. Only to sate his curiosity, though. Certainly not for any other reason.

His interest is once again peaked when he hears tales of your immense talent. You were holding back against him, weren’t you? Oh, how vexing you are. A simple knight, daring to try and swindle the dragon lord. And how vexing it is for him to have fallen for your coy act. It should irritate him far more than it does. But he’s lacked true companionship for so long. Dragons are a dying species and mortals are unworthy. Well, except for you.

Yes, you’d make a suitable companion. The dragon lord decides that you are his new companion and sets off to find you. Shifting back into his dragon form, he scours the land for you. Upon recognizing your scent, the dragon lord swoops down and nabs your unsuspecting form. You try and protests but he’s far too strong and large for you to fight off. He flies you back to his trove of treasures. The dragon lord sets you amongst his precious possessions, at the center, of course. For you are the most precious of all.

You’re smart, aware you cannot escape him with strength. So you try with wit. You bide time, keep him entertained and try to slip out. It’s a process you repeat multiple times, with the dragon lord catching you each time. He’s never cross with you, if anything, he’s amused. You truly are entertaining. The dragon lord will never take your attempts seriously. You’re a game to him. You may be his companion, but you’re more akin to a bird in a cage than an equal. You’re still his possession, after all. He’s a dragon lord, possessive instincts demanding he hoards you away from everything and keep you all to himself.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞.”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇:

The mistress of the black arts, the witch doesn’t expect to fall for someone such as yourself. She doesn’t expect to fall for anyone at all. Witches are, by nature, deceitful. They are beautiful and cruel. They engage in the dark arts. However, they are not all pure evil. Some have a modicum of compassion in their hearts. And you seem to draw out hers. Perhaps it’s because she’s known you since childhood. Before you were a glorious knight and she an infamous witch, you two were just children with seemingly impossible dreams and the weight of the world on your shoulders. But time changes things, it’s made what should be enemies out of you by the nature of your positions. Yet she cannot bring herself to hate you.

Not when you are truly noble, as knights are supposed to be. She’s encountered many a proclaimed knight in her time. All eager to vanquish her. Yet they all fail. And they all contribute to her disdain towards the blinded citizens of kingdom and the selfish aristocracy. What are knights but dogs to the nobility and monsters to the innocents? She’s seen knights and paladins set villages ablaze, slaughter innocents in the name of either their king or their whims. All knights disgust her. All except you, of course.

You’re her dreamer. You’re her innocence. You’re still the same person who believed in fairytales and noble values because you uphold them. That’s why you’re so beloved. By everyone, but most of all, her. You’ve never turned on her. You understand her nature as not evil. You even go as far as to bring her potion ingredients. She’s your dearest companion. The witch relishes in the thrall she has over you. In the thrall you have over her. You two, bound by mutual past, shall be intertwined in the future.

The witch strives to protect you. She patches up every wound you receive, regardless of how small, with her potion brews. She enchants a charm to ensure your safety— and if it happens to allow her to watch over her at all times, then it’s only because she wishes to keep you safe. And perhaps she may curse her rivals for your affection, so what? A light hex never hurt anyone. She’s indefinitely more relaxed than your other options, though. Witches, while some join covens, prefer independence. She would never want to stifle you.

So, the witch does what she does best. She casts curses and creates enchantments to keep you out of harms way. You may embark on your quests, you may indulge in your whims, but she is certain you will always return to her. And if you don’t? Well, she is a master of the dark arts. She can easily summon you and tether you to her. But she won’t. Probably.

Overall, the witch is concerned about your safety. She may guard you from a distance, but she guards you viciously. You are the only connection to her past, you are the only one who understands her. She cannot bear to lose you to anyone or anything.

“𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜.”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍:

A rival, a friend, an equal. This is what they are to you. The paladin, once a squire alongside you, now a sworn knight of the Holy Order. How your paths have differed. Yet, in some ways, you remain the same. Namely, the competition between you. The paladin is always one step behind, has been since your days as a squire. You best them at spars, at races both on horse and foot, in accolades as well. They’re a paladin, and yet, you receive more recognition than them. It drives them mad. You drive them mad.

For one, they should be above the petty jealousy you stir. They should be satisfied with their status. But they are not. They always compare themself to you. They want so desperately to share the light you unwittingly bask in. Alas, none of it is for them. They resent you, they loathe you. Even worse, they respect you. Beyond your skill, you’re the paradigm of a true knight. You’re noble and good-hearted in a cruel world. You’re pure in a way no one else is. It inspires nothing but admiration. The paladin has admired you since your shared youth, they even tried to convince you to take up the Holy Vows

They’ve yet to succeed, but they won’t stop trying. After all, you’re all they’ve been chasing after. You’re the peak they seek. They train relentlessly to improve. Not to become your equal, but to become your better. They want to surpass you, to prove themselves worthy. They want you to look at them the way they’ve looked at you. The paladin wants to be the center of your world.

They work tirelessly. And yet, you always seem to far away. Their obsession grows deeper, more dangerous. The more attention you gain, the more desperate they become. How can the paladin reach you if you’re so far away? It calls for more drastic measures. Perhaps sabotaging your reputation, or ruining your quests. Ensuring you have no one to turn to beside them. Maybe even a maiming is in order, something to incapacitate you and keep you in the paladin’s grasp.

Don’t worry. They’ll be worthy someday. Until then, the paladin will watch from afar, stewing with jealousy and yearning. Be careful though. One wrong move could have the paladin turning towards the more unsavoury means of attaining you. They’d be remiss to, of course, but they cannot let you slip from their hold.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.”

────────────────────────

a/n: I’m back, from a very long hiatus. Special thanks to @forbidden-sunlight for motivating me to get back into writing :)

more yandere fae + new works coming soon

yandere!Alastor with gender-neutral!tinkerer!reader headcanons

Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied manipulation, and knowledge based on the 2019 pilot episode.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

If you would like to read the SFW version of these headcanons, there are some written by @isuckatwritingsobenice. I will leave the link to them here.

Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @angelltheninth, and @ceoofdabicorpsensfw for providing feedback and helping me shape up these headcanons into what they are today, my first Hazbin Hotel fic in quite a long time!

If you would like to me to keep up the momentum and write more for Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss, please let me know via a request or in the comments section below!

With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! :)

Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades!

He will not fall for someone who is naive and oblivious to the dangers that lurk around every corner. His preference for a darling is someone who is intelligent, yet malleable to his manipulative machinations, though he would call it being a considerable gentleman.

So, imagine his surprise when you, the maintenance operator Charlie had hired during the hotel’s open house after being thoroughly impressed with your resume, piqued his interest. He had heard that you were very good at repairing broken things. Whatever it was that needed to be fixed, you could do it efficiently and with a smile.

The only thing you would not touch, however, were Angel’s sex toys. He found you at Husk’s bar, whining and clutching what looked like a purple cucumber with a white handle, coated in….an unknown substance. You looked at it, then back at Angel, confused and blinking owlishly at him. You asked him to hold it up in the light so you could see it, just don’t let it touch you because…well, you really did not want to.

The adult film star did, and you tilted your head to the side, staring at it for a moment before pulling away.

“It should be an easy fix.” You said. “Do you think it is a higher priority than preventing the hotel from being flooded with water?” You asked, glancing up at him. The genuinity in your voice as you spoke to him, curious and asking if fixing his device is really more important at the moment, made Alastor chuckle from the shadows. Dear ol’ Husker looked like he was about to keel over from laughter too~!

“If it’s an easy fix like ya say it is, then yes!” Angel whined. “I need it fixed by tomorrow! Can ya maybe work on it, like, after you make sure this place doesn’t get flooded?”

You blinked. “That shouldn’t be an issue. Okay. Did you try looking for the manual in the box it came in?”

“There’s a manual for it in there?!”

You nodded. “There should be. Or at least a phone number for customer service.”

Oh, such dialogue between two unique characters brightened Alastor’s mundane afternoon considerably and deepened his interest in the ever diligent and mild-mannered sinner who never seemed to stop working!

He watched you from the shadows, learning about your likes and dislikes and your….relationships with the others, clients and hotel staff alike. None of which, as he has seen, never went beyond the boundary of polite professionalism. Imagine his surprise when his shadow discovered your daily ritual to lock yourself in the maintenance office and curl up on the couch in there for an hour nap, and how you cannot sleep without the vintage radio on your desk being played on low volume. As much as he wanted to sweep you off of your feet with a night around the city and a lovely candlelit dinner, Alastor could not act too recklessly. That wasn’t how his mother raised him. No, no, no, he was a gentleman!

And a gentleman knows how to bide his time in the art of courting. Expect him to flood your office with bouquets, expensive gifts, and a request to personally fix his microphone even when it was working just perfectly.

Who knows? Perhaps while you’re sleeping soundly, in your office or in your bedroom, he will turn the knob of your radio just a little to the left so it is the music of his radio station that fills the silence. Think of it as….insurance. With the magic he possessed as an overlord, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to comprehend that he did care about you in his own way. And he would like to think you will, in time, come to enjoy his music with a smile.

After all, you’re never fully dressed without one!

Bonus Content

If you accept his courtship, Alastor’s possessiveness will reach to the point where he will absolutely insist that you should move into his quarters and share the bed. For his peace of mind and your own protection.

After all, you’re his precious little doe. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in this cesspool~.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@selineram3421

@vikkirosko

@nixie-writes

@thatstonedwriter

@lbcreations-blog

@aurora-rose-miller

@yosemitecleo

@doc-tooth

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”

Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

Yandere Miguel O’Hara Headcanons

a/n: there are two routes platonic and romantic, which will be bolded and colour-coded like this, please forgive my spanish i am breaking out my high school spanish classes.

tw: yandere themes, possessive, obsessive, and controlling behaviour, potential spoilers, suggestive themes (romantic route), captivity, canonical inaccuracies, implied neglect (platonic route)

•Becoming the hero Arachnid wasn’t something you ever planned on happening. You were just going about your regular, every day life when a radioactive spider bit you. The spider that bit you gave you amazing powers that you utilized to become the amazing, the one and only friendly neighbourhood Arachnid! Then, you were suddenly pulled into another dimension that was almost exactly like yours and discovered that you weren’t the only one of well you after all.

•You, alongside other spider-themed heroes, joined forces against Kingpin in order to return to your home dimensions. However, that wasn’t your last adventure with the multiverse. Your next encounter would occur a few months after your first misadventure. Having finished fighting the Green Goblin, you were ready to end the night there. Then, a portal similar to the one that brought you to Miles’ dimension opened up. Out came a tall, well-muscled Spider-Man and a Spider-Woman

•They introduced themselves as Miguel O’Hara and Jessica Drew and informed of the Spider society they’d formed. You were offered membership by them. Well, by Jessica. Miguel was staying silent. You don’t know why, but you felt as though he was watching you. He was, of course, he was right in front of you, but this felt eerie. Your senses were telling you something was wrong but Jessica was so nice and you really were excited and honoured to be given such an opportunity. So, you take it.

Romantic Route:

•Miguel stared at you intently. He’d been watching you for a while now, observing. You resemblance was uncanny— you looked exactly like his spouse. Not his spouse exactly, but the one the other had. You looked like the partner that Miguel had grown to love alongside his daughter. A variant of them. Although he was initially against you joining, it would be easier to watch you— look out for you if you joined the lobby.

•After your acceptance, Miguel tasked Jessica with guiding you around the lobby. He didn’t trust anyone else and he couldn’t bare to do it himself. He couldn’t handle himself around you. It wasn’t just your appearance that was uncanny, it was everything. You mannerisms, habits, likes, interests, everything. How Miguel yearned for you. Yearned to feel your touch, your kiss. Yearned for the happiness he once knew.

•But that would break the canon, wouldn’t it? The memories of his world, his family fading from existence because he broke the canon. He couldn’t let that happen again. So, he behaved coldly towards you. But as Miguel continued to watch you and interact with you, he started to doubt. You were a variant of his partner, but your dimension didn’t have a variant of Miguel O’Hara. Perhaps, he rationalized, this was canon. Your fates were meant to be intertwined. He needed you and you needed him. That was canon.

•Miguel strikes when you least expect. Spends weeks carefully planning. He stalks you, memorizes your routine to a point. He assigns you a mission, not overly-difficult but not easy. Something to tire you out. With your senses dulled and the weariness from the fight left you susceptible to his attack. Quickly, stealthily and by surprise, he subdued you. His sharp fangs biting into the tender skin of your neck, paralyzing you.

•When you come to, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Yet there are familiar objects lying around; trinkets and photos that had disappeared. Your spidey-senses were going off the rails and that’s when he came.

“Miguel?”

•He tells you you’re here for your safety and for the safety of your dimension. Swears you’re meant to be with him, that it’s canon. Warns you of the consequences if you break the canon. You stare at him, intaking his audacity. Then, you shriek at him. Call him out on his absolute bull. Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He ignores your screeching and leaves. Obviously, you’re still in shock. You’ll come around.

•Almost a month later, lo and behold, you still haven’t come around to being pliant with your captor. Miguel is a man of many things, but patience is not one. He is so very tired, having to deal with Lyla’s teasing and the other Spider’s bullshit. Is it too much to ask to come home to his loving spouse? Just like he used to.

•Apparently, it is. Seeing as you aren’t his spouse, but someone he locked up, you scream at him. Unholy screeches whenever you see him. Today, Miguel’s had enough. Large hands wrap around you and slam you against the headboard of the bed you’re chained too.

“Enough.” He hisses. “¡Mierda! I won’t hear it. ¿Me entienden? You stay here. If the safety of the multiverse won’t convince then maybe the safety of your aunt will.”

•The moment the vague threat passes over you freeze entirely. You’ve lost almost everyone, everyone but her. Carefully, you suck in air. Large tears brim at the edges of your eyes. as you look Miguel directly in the eyes. His eyes, dark and dangerous, bore back into yours.

“Please Miguel,” you whisper. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry. Don’t hurt her.”

•Miguel softens at your submission. However, he still doesn’t trust you. He pulls himself off you and stalks out, leaving you laying on the bed, dazed. From that day forewords, you become more compliant. You listen to Miguel and don’t fight him. Miguel knows that he can’t keep you locked away forever. People were asking questions. With your ‘good’ behaviour, you’ll be granted more privileges. More freedom, if that’s what you can call it. You’ll never truly be free, trapped under Miguel’s watchful eyes. But you’re able to go into the lobby again. To talk with people, even if you do so bearing Miguel’s marks. You know you can’t escape him, not when he could take away the little you had left, not when he would hunt you down through every universe. For now, you know you can’t escape Miguel’s grip.

Platonic Route:

•When Miguel saw you for the first time, he felt the world stop around him. It was as though there was nobody else but you and him. You, who was the only variant of his dead child that wasn’t truly his. He watched as you swung around, mocking villains and making clever quips. Miguel’s heart ached for you, for himself, for his dead daughter and child. As he watched you, memories of holding his child as they died because of him resurface. Once more, does Miguel feel the bitter sting of grief and loss.

•Oh, how Miguel desires to hold you, to cradle you close and never let go. But he can’t, he won’t. You’re not his child. You’re not the child he failed to protect. No, you’re a child he can protect. Thus, his decision to allow you to join the spider-society, if only to watch over you and protect you. Your family clearly isn’t doing a good job at it. Miguel spends more time than necessary looking after you. Not that he meant to, of course. You were just so vulnerable. You needed guidance. You may have been s superhero but you were also a child.

•Under Miguel’s guidance you thrive. He teaches you proper fighting techniques, improves your web-shooters and other tech you have and acts as the father figure you need. His teaching method is firm yet gentle. Miguel remains stern, however, everyone notices how soft he is with you. Life is good in the lobby. To be honest, sometimes you consider staying forever. Or more accurately, Miguel implies you should.

•Yes, he was originally not going to interfere. But it was you who made the decision to stay, so obviously that meant something. And Miguel wouldn’t lie, whenever you returned to your Earth to fulfill your duties as Arachnid, he could barely think he was so worried. Every villain encounter, every scrape and bruise is another chance to fail to protect his child. Miguel gets more desperate over time. Your time in the lobby is almost exclusively spent with him. Every mission is with him, every meal is with him, almost every moment is spent by Miguel’s side. And honestly? You’re starting to get s little sick of it.

•Not that you were complaining. You’re so grateful for the opportunities Miguel gave you, but he’s so overbearing. Maybe it’s normal, you rationalize, you’re family isn’t very close. Besides, you’ve seen Peter B. Parker with Mayday. Even Miguel isn’t that clingy. Your senses are blaring danger and to get away, but your yearning for love and affection suppress them. You continue to push down your instincts until you can’t. Until you decide to listen to your doubts— only to prove them wrong, of course. However, just your luck, your instincts are proven correct. You discover a goddamn tracker implanted in your arm.

•Finally, everything clicks. Everything Miguel does? Not normal! Just creepy, especially this. Thus, you decide to leave. You dig out your tracker and stitch the wound back up. You leave the tracker where you know Miguel will find it and leave, discarding your portal bracelet. You return to your Earth for the final time, intent on never leaving again.

•When Miguel returns to find your tracker and no trace of you, he goes ballistic. You left, he can’t protect you. You’ll get hurt, you’ll die. Miguel can’t risk losing you. He travels to your Earth in search of you. There, he tracks you down to find you losing badly against the Green Goblin. You’re clutch your ribs, bruised and bloody. The moment he sees you like this, Miguel enters a blazing fury. He attacks the Goblin viciously, pounding him until a sickening crunch is heard and the Goblin’s neck snaps. You collapse, from your injuries and the shock of witnessing Miguel kill the Goblin.

•Your chest seizes, hyperventilating. You can hear your heart beat racing as Miguel turns to you. He watches you panic and slowly paces towards you. You attempt to scoot away, but you can barely move. Miguel’s mask is off. You can see his eyes being filled with the same eerie softness as the day you met. Carefully, he leans down and large hands grasp onto you. You struggle as best you can, squirming despite the pain.

“¡Ay! Cariño.” He admonishes gently. “Be still, you’ll hurt yourself.”

•Regardless of his orders, you continue to squirm. Sighing, Miguel extended his fangs and bit down on your neck. Paralyzed, you fall limp in his arms. Carefully, he maneuvers you so to not hurt you. He cradles you to his chest as he inspects you over.

“We’ll get you checked out when we go to your new room. ¿Estàts bien?”

•Unable to do anything, you lay helpless in Miguel’s arms as he takes you to your new fancy prison cell— or room as he calls it. From there, you’ll be safe. Somewhere only Miguel knows, a place he can be certain he can protect you. Yes, you’ll stay locked away in your gilded cage, guarded by Miguel. Safe from the world, from every threat but him.

May I make a request for Muichiro?

General Yandere Muichiro Headcanons

a/n: reader is the same age as Muichiro in this, can be read as platonic or romantic

tw: yandere themes, overprotective behaviour, potential spoilers for Muichiro’s backstory

•Muichiro, despite his young age, has many impressive feats. Being the youngest member of the Hashira has gained him notoriety— though most of his notoriety stems from his apathy.

•His blunt and air-headed nature often scares people off. He doesn’t mind or care. But then, there was you. A seemingly constance in his life. Originally, Muichiro didn’t care for or about you. Especially when you were so beneath him. You were a lowly Kanoe while he was a Hashira. Regardless, you seemed determined to remain by his side and he didn’t care enough to stop you.

•Eventually, he becomes accustomed to your prescription in his life. You’re something to remember- something Muichiro lacks. While his demeanour doesn’t change outright, there are subtle differences that indicate his attachment to you. He acts more considerate towards you than others and tolerates your behaviour that he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else.

•His feelings become more obvious after he regains his memories. Once he remembers the loss of his parents and brothers, Muichiro develops overly protective tendencies. The loss of his family burns fresh through his memory and influences his treatment of you. He doesn’t want to even imagine losing you. Also, similar to his treatment of Tanjiro, Muichiro openly begins to display his affection and bias towards you.

•Overall, Muichiro is a very lax yandere. He isn’t doesn’t meddle with your daily life or your relationships with other. He also doesn’t limit your freedom, at least until he regains his memories. Even then, Muichiro only really prevents you from going on really dangerous missions, or will accompany you if you do go.

Addiction- Yandere Mafia Boss Sukuna x Reader

an: I do not condone this behaviour, this is purely fiction. Do not interact if you do not like it, or can’t stomach it.

tw: dark themes, yandere, mafia au, violence, possessive behaviour, toxic relationships, kidnapping, branding, captivity

Sukuna is a selfish man. He’s a self-absorbed, egotistical bastard. The devil himself, a wretch of a man who is ruthless in everything he does. His cruel touch has cursed the lives of many; killings and tortures all done in his name, by his order. Sukuna does as pleases, indulging in his greed. Yet he still yearns for more. He possesses a desire that will never be sated. There had been kindness within him, once. A different time; when the world had not exposed its evil to him. That warmth was extinguished with his mother’s dying breath, and there lay no hope of reviving it. Until he met you.

A puny thing really, compared to the low-levelled goon of his that was currently harassing you. Such a classless act being committed outside one his preferred establishments, it was irritating. He didn’t intend to save you; more so punish the lackey for his annoyance. You were a pathetic, pitiful, cornered creature, not worth any attention. Then, out of nowhere, you kicked him straight in the nuts. Sukuna was simultaneously surprised, impressed, and amused. Before the goon could actually harm you, Sukuna stepped in and knocked him out. You were shaking from shock and terror. However, when you looked up at him, there was no fear eyes, only gratitude. Perhaps that was the reason he played a gentle saviour. A reward, he decided, for the entertainment you provided. Escorting you to your car and watching you drive off in the old rusted thing should have been the end of the whole affair, but it wasn’t. You lingered in the back of Sukuna’s mind for days. You plagued his thoughts, haunting him. His interest evolved into a nagging curiosity, and regardless of how he tried to resist it, the urge to know more about you won out; and down the rabbit hole he fell.

It began with the discovery of your name. It was all Sukuna needed to know, the name of the person he’d saved, the name of the person who tormented his mind. Yet it was not enough. He had to know more. He uncovered every bit of your being, leaving nothing unknown; your address, your number, your favourite foods and activities, your deepest secrets, all known to Sukuna. The more he knew, the more the obsession grew. You were perfection incarnate. Something, someone, truly divine that had graced the world with their presence. He desired to possess that divinity, to possess you. You didn’t deserve him, not at all. Sukuna was a depraved being, unworthy of even being near you. Alas, fate was cruel, and Sukuna even crueler. He had to have you, and would do anything in pursuit of you. You lived in the seediest part of time, he reasoned, in a shabby apartment that you could barely afford. You needed him to keep you safe and protected, you needed to be saved. He had his most trusted men tail you while he prepared the most luxurious room for you; you deserved only the best after all. It took time, yet Sukuna pieced together a flawless plan. Soon you would be with him, where you belonged. And how he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

As time marched on slowly, Sukuna became increasingly impatient; the anticipation of your arrival into his arms was overwhelming. Once the day arrived he became more agitated than usual. He had yearned for this day, for you, and soon he would have you. Sukuna was halfway through a meeting when his phone buzzed. The moment he glanced down and the read the message he’d received, Sukuna swiftly exited the meet room, ignoring the shock of his underlings. You had been safely delivered to his estate, your new home. Sukuna sped home in his car, anticipation building up and threatening to boil over. When he finally arrived Sukuna rushed through the door, up the grand staircase, and navigated through the extensive maze of corridors to your designated room. Taking a baited breath, he carefully opened the door and set his eyes upon you.

There you lie, his darling, his beloved, the only thing that could ever invoke such weakness from him— and you were here, lying right in front of him. You were peacefully dozing off. Sukuna stayed by your side for who knows how long, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest. Then, your eyes twitched, fluttering open. You awoke disgruntled, initial confusion turning into panic at the realization that you weren’t in your apartment. Sukuna watched you for a moment, before deciding to grab your attention.

“So you’ve finally awaken, hm?” He hummed, watching as you slowly turn towards him. Your expression was akin to a frightened doe. Slowly, the gears turned in your head and you gaped in recognition, “You! Did you do this to me?!”

“As in returning you to where you belong? Yes, I did.” He replied neutrally.

“What the hell are you talking about,” you snarled. “Quite,” he ordered, dropping his neutral tone for a more menacing one. “You’re mine, I saved you didn’t I? You should repay the favour.” “Let me go!” You cry, struggling with all your might. “Please,” you beg as you finally break, beginning to sob. “Enough, there’s no need for that. As long as you behave, you’ll be rewarded.”

With that, Sukuna stalked out the room. He knew it would take time for you to adjust, after all anyone would react poorly to such sudden change. All Sukuna could do was wait, and he’d done so before. He wanted to own you not only in body, but in mind and soul as well. He yearned for a normal relationship with you— well, as normal as a relationship with him can be. So, he remained patient, albeit with much difficulty. Sukuna loves you so much and he knows, he knows, he must be understanding of your feelings, yet he cannot impede his desire for you, for your warmth and kindness, for everything and anything but the fear you display. He wants for you to not cower when you see him. He wants for you to tremble nervously. He wants you to not look at him with the terror and hatred that others do. Sukuna wants— no he needs you to love him as he loves you, to devote yourself to him as he’s done for you. And he will do anything to attain that, even it requires him to wait forever.

Then again, perhaps that patient leniency is what lead to this situation in the first place, Sukuna muses to himself. You kneel in front of tears pooling at your eyes, false apologies spilling out of your lips. His indulgence of you had lead to your attempt to leave him, to abandon him just as everyone else had. Perhaps you weren’t an angel then, rather you were a demon; a sultry temptress sent to corrupt him further, to ensnare him in your web of lies and devour him whole. Well, you’d succeeded. He’d gone soft for you, for his precious, sweet thing. But now you’d revealed your true nature. You did not need his protecting, no you needed him to correct you. He would purify you, lead you into the light, into his light. Yes, he was your saviour and this was all done for you, for your betterment. Sukuna feels a twisted pleasure blossoming in his heart, your “corrections” would begin now.

“Please Sukuna, please. I’m sorry, I really am so sorry,” you plead, sniffling and hiccuping slightly, “I won’t do it again, I swear!”

Sukuna looks down at you, smiling unnervingly. Gently, he kneels, reaching down to wipe the tears from your right eye, and coos down at you, “Don’t worry, my love. I won’t hurt you. How could I? I love you more than life itself. I cherish you more than anything in this world.” You nod tentatively, lulled by his low and kind tone and sweet words. “But, you’ve been thoroughly ungrateful. Behaving so poorly, and now this. I don’t blame you, of course. It’s my fault after all. I failed to teach you properly, so now I must rectify this mistake. This will merely be a small lesson my love, done for your sake, not mine.”

With that, Sukuna stood up. He towers above you, like a god, your god. You stopped crying, the tears sticking to your face, making your cheeks ans eyes red, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You look adorable like this, thought Sukuna, still smiling. His smile grew almost sadistic as he gestured towards his men. You furrowed your brows in confusion, most liking wondering what he meant by “lesson.” Your eyes dart around the room, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then, you spot it; a branding iron. You shriek, attempting to run but a few muscular guards hold you down. You thrash around wildly, begging and screaming. A scene truly oscar worthy in Sukuna’s opinion, though it didn’t invoke any pity from the guards. Finally, you turn to him.

“Sukuna don’t! Please, I beg of you! I’ll behave, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson I swear! I only need you, I only love you!” You screech, pleadingly. Sukuna hums, unaffected by your display. He rips off the section of your shirt covering your lower back. He traces some letters onto the bare skin. Reaching out his arm to receive the branding iron, he tuts, “Ah, but darling, how could you have learned a lesson that I am yet too teach? You must not lie, although we shall save that lesson for another time. Today’s lesson is on who you belong too: me.”

Carefully, Sukuna lined the branding iron up perfectly. And then he brought it down on you. You let out a blood-curdling scream, howling and writhing in pain as your skin sizzled delightfully. Sukuna held it place for a good few seconds before removing it. Grinning, he read and reread the “property of Sukuna” that had been burned into your skin. Proof of his ownership over you that was permanently imprinted into your skin. You continued to wriggle and sob from the searing pain. This, Sukuna thought in full confidence, was a lesson that neither of you would forget. Sighing contently, he rang a bell, summoning your personal servants, or babysitters.

“Allow the brand to fully set in. Do not cause additional pain, but do not relieve the current pain they’re feeling either. Disobey and you will be severely punished, understood?” He ordered, darkly. The maids nodded and carefully carried you out the room. Sukuna turned around, glaring sharply, “Well then, out! All of you!”

His men scrambled out of the room, unwilling to fave their boss’s wrath should they disobey. Alone, Sukuna poured himself a whiskey and relished in the pleasure he received from your “lesson.” He needed to own you, to have you. To be the only one who could love you, who could hurt you; it would be him and him alone. It was not love he felt, it was an addiction, to you. An addiction that he must feed, Sukuna mused as he thought about more “lesson” plans. After all, he had promised to teach you about the wrongs of lying.

—Master list—

—Tokyo Revengers—

Platonic Yandere Haitani Brothers- 

Pt1, Pt2

Sold out: Emma Drabble

Nail Polish bonding: Izana Drabble

Playdate: Hanma drabble 

A neglectful lover: Izana, Mikey Short

Cat and mouse- Haitani brothers Short 

Sick Days

-Genshin Impact-

SoulEaterAU: Childe x WeaponReader

-Twisted Wonderland-

{~~In the works~~}

Vil x Raven!Reader

Childe x Musician!Reader (Request)

Thinking about making the platonic hantani brothers a series of drabbles and whatnot

I just did China and America for this, hope you don’t mind!

{~China, America, x cocky Reader~}

{~China~}

Yáo would find you outsmarting him very attractive, in the sense that you would be a critical thinker that could think on your feet. Yáo would loath having a childish reader who is single minded and thinks in the ‘everyone’s good mentality‘ (being overly optimistic to a ridiculous extent) (though if You can fool him into thinking that just to prove him wrong he would be quite impressed).

It’ll hurt him a little that such a naïve and young country outsmarting an old country like him, especially with all the experience he has under his belt; but it’ll all go into using against you in the meetings. He’s not one to actually run after you, but he would set up elaborate traps in the political sense at the world meeting.

He wouldn’t back down from throwing his weight around, being a world super power would aid him greatly in trying to get you in debt to him. Whether that be pushing for you to repay debts to him or bonus points for having a politician who is in debt to him as a spy or a way to get info on you specifically.

You shoving your ‘wins’ in his face would be childish in his view but infuriate him at the same time, feeling as a personal insult to his name. Though it’ll only make him want to get you in his oh so gracious custody more. Where he can teach you properly how to treat your elders.

~~

{~America~}

Now he would defiantly have fun with trying to get you. His attempts to woo you would quickly turn into an outright game of tag to you, constantly dashing into ally’s to lose him as he sprints to stay on your tail. The two of you would see it as a game, though the stakes would be much higher for you to not be caught, since it could very well be the last time you would see daylight or your own freedom.

You being able to outsmart him would make him want to have you even more than he already did before. Having the thrill of the chase pumping through his veins, the feeling of his prize at his finger tips, the taste of satisfaction on his tongue making him practically drool, and above all, you in his grasp. That would drive him until you would make a mistake, a miscalculation perhaps, but it would ultimately be your fall from grace, much to his delight.

But when that fantasy of having you comes crashing down when you evidently make him run in circles it infuriates him to where he can’t even decide if he wants to have you because he ‘loves’ you or he just wants to wipe that smug look right off your face, make you eat and pay for all those nasty words you said to him.

He wouldn’t want to bring the issue to the courts or negotiation table, but if he has to in order to get you, England did teach him well in how to fool an entire court and move it fall in his favor. For that he would be glad that he listened to England’s advice for once.

Whether Alfred gets you from outsmarting you or wrapping you around his finger politically, he would be dead set on obtaining you knowing no bounds in order to accomplish that goal. He might try to run after you til he‘s tired you out physically and mentally, closing off all your exists and escape routes. Cornering you into a dead end, looking straight at you like a wolf about to jump on its’ cornered prey.

~~

You're fine :)

<~~1P and 2p Italy reacting to an ‘innocent’ reader~~>

Feliciano’s perspective of you wouldn’t change that much because of how delusional he is.

He has this picture of you in his head that can’t do anything wrong so when he sees this, all he sees you is being a good person and protecting the innocent guy from being mugged.

His delusions leads him to totally discard you beating the mugger senselessly and the strawberry juice container thing.

It’s like he has permanent rose tinted glasses on.

Nothing you do will damage his perception of you.

~~~

Luciano Wouldn’t be as delusional as his first player for the most part.

He’ll note down that you were caring a weapon that he hadn’t seen and will be more cautious with getting close to you.

One part of his applauds your strength and ability to handle a dangerous situation like that (he’s a busy man and doesn’t have time to constantly be watching his s/o to make sure that they aren’t in danger, his paranoia increases with an innocent s/o), but on the other hand he doesn’t like the fact that you would potentially be stronger than him.

He’ll take lots of notes from this experience.

Though in conclusion, he’ll become more wary of you in the future ,with taking extra precaution in his plan on kidnapping you and stalking you.

~~~

I don’t have any names for the nyo axis bro-

Nyo!Germany:

She would probably panic a little when she is first put into the bubble and would be confused with how this all is possible. She’s a pretty logical women after all.

She would then go to demanding to be let out but once you tell her once she calms down that she’s be released, she’ll be a bit angry ngl.

She’ll just sit in her own malice for a minute before asking more politely to be let out.

Her dogs will probably be whining and pawing at the bubble that you’ll probably be guilt tripped into letting her out.

~~~

Nyo!Italy:

You though Nyo China was loud???? HA!

Italy would S R C E A M so loud that you would have to put ear buds in or something, and it won’t be for a minute or two, nahhhhhh this girl apparently has immortal vocal cords too!

She’ll act like a total drama queen asking if you hate her that much and that she’ll be better for you if you give her another chance!

You’ll probably have to let her out sooner rather than later cuz she’ll probably start swimming in her tears.

~~~

Nyo!Japan:

Acts so relaxed like this is another day at the office it’s a bit freaky.

She’ll inhale and ask (demand) to be let out while staring at you with a blank face. She’s so monotoned that you can’t even tell if she’s angry or not.

You could only get a small hint of how she’s feeling by how her hands are twitching, either from fright or from malice.

She seems to be calm but is she? You wouldn’t know from how well she can keep her emotions at bay until it’s too late.

~~~

I love the Moomins-

~“I worship you” Yandere 1p Russia~

~~~

He didn’t want to do this but you left him no choice

Ivan wasn’t a guy who would was quick to anger or violence, and he wouldn’t show his anger on the outside unless he was pushed to his limits.

He looked down at your shivering body in the snow, the cold just bit right through your small body. He tried telling you multiple times not to go outside, that it was dangerous. But you still left the warmth of his home out into the freezing forest outside.

Why would you be so desperate to leave him?

He gave you everything that you could ever want along with his everlasting love, but no, you would rather freeze to death out here then be curled up in his embrace next to a warm fire.

He just didn’t understand.

He kneeled down next to you taking your shivering body in his embrace holding you tightly. He opened his jacket tucking your head under his chin, holding you closer to him in a hopes that he could keep you warm on the way back home.

“You know I worship you (Y/n), I know this is all new to you but you have to understand I’m just trying to protect you.”

His voice was only a mumble but the rumble in his chest shook you more then the cold.

You had expected him to yell and scream at you for running away but him being this calm and collected, scared you more than any punishment he could give you.

You slowly felt yourself drifting off as the soothing motion of Ivan walking lured you further and further to sleep. It didn’t even cross your mind as of the place you were being taken to as you fell asleep in his warm hold.~

~Request for the prompts are still open!~

I don’t think they would change how they treated the reader whether or not they were female male or non binary in this scenario✨

~Yandere Axis x Country!Reader~

~Italy~

Feli would feel a sense of wanting to keep you with him at all times and it’s utterly suffocating.

He’ll say that he doesn’t want you to get hurt by anything and when you nearly trip over a step it sends him into a frenzy saying how you could have hurt your self or worse die if he wasn’t there to catch you.

Yes he’s exaggerating but it’s just to keep you safe, that’s all he wants.

most of the time spent with him would probably be in bed cuddling together since he wants you to know that he's always with you.

~~~

~Germany~

Ludwig would switch between being incredibly strict with you one day, to caring for you like you were glass the next.

He knows your strong enough to care for yourself but the voice in his mind saying that ‘you need his protection and that he should protect you’ says otherwise

It’ll get to a point were he’ll always be in the same room as you and if you try to do something without his knowledge he’ll actively keep you away from it and instead doing it himself for you.

He just doesn’t want to risk getting you hurt and he couldn’t forgive himself if you accidentally did.

~~~

~Japan~

Kiku’s always been a hermit at heart so it wouldn’t be hard for him to keep you with him since he has everything that you would want at home.

He’ll take it upon himself to deal with your country matters such as meeting or paper work since he believes that he should show that he can provide for you himself and that includes your country duties too.

It wouldn’t be so bad staying with Kiku since he would let you listen to anime with him (with him telling you what was going on onscreen) and read mangas to you.

You wouldn’t really want to be separated from him since he does so much for you,

What would you do without him?

~~~

just because you said the magic word anon~✨

~~~

~Yandere 2P!Allies x Country!Reader~

-2p China-

You first caught Xiaos attention by giving a speech at one of the meetings that he rarely ever attended.

But this time he was glad he went to the stupid meeting. Just to see your eyes flare with passion and with such purpose that the drugs in his system couldn't even block it out.

It felt like the first time he tried drugs, the feeling of losing yourself under its control, though it dulled over time the more he took it which led him to looking for more harder drugs, which too, dulled over time.

But you, you had awoken that feeling of it back inside of him which he thought he had lost long ago.

It was something he couldn't lose, he had to must get more of it.

Just like if you give a racoon food,

it's going to come back for more.

~~~

~2p Russia~

You first met the intimating Russian was when your two countries were doing a public announcement that the two of you had to attend.

Something about having y'all be side by side while your bosses sign papers was to show how close y'all were supposed to be.

Politics politics politics...

He had been through these type of meetings before with many different countries, it wasn't that important to him, still, it was majorly just to look nice and pretty for everyone to see.

Making a few adjustments to his outfit outside the doors waiting for you, (even pondering if you were even going to show up once) but when he saw you in your best outfit walking to see him, all his thoughts vanished.

Something about you had made him stop momentarily before he regained himself (though with his resting bitch face it was hard to tell on your part) to properly greet You.

He had a habit of judging people when he first met them, seeing if they were worth his time to talk too, but when he looked at you he couldn't tell what made you so special to him. It almost scared him.

maybe this meeting wasn't going to be as dreedful as he had thought.

~~~

~2p France~

Let's just say when you first met the Louise, it wasn't in the most ideal place.

Not behind a Building smoking a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves before a meeting.

When you threw open the back door and hitting a certain Frenchman causing him to drop his own cigarette, you knew you were screwed.

When you were about to get cursed out in French you quickly apologized even going as far to try to not get even more beat up as you thought you were, by trying to say sorry in French.

He just kept staring down at you with a blank exspression as you quickly excused yourself to go to the meeting. You felt like you were going to accend when he walked into the meeting and sat right next to you, just your luck.

Afterwards you went back behind the building (making sure to not hit anymore) to see that you were alone, much to your relief. It wasn't until your back got smacked by the door did someone join you saying "Thats payback for earlier.."

Softly you chuckled and offered him a cigarette saying "Even?" Which he let a sign out but took one.

As the two of you just sat in the ally in silence when he casually looked over at you, feeling a tiny bit irritated that you were still nice to him even after he purposefully smacked the door with you and even went as far to offer him a cigarette.

it confused him to find a genuinely nice person.

And as you went back inside, leaving him, he couldn't help but feel like he wanted it for himself...

and only for himself.

~~~

~2p England~

oooohhhhh boy did you mess up-

So stupid for you to procrastinate on delivering papers, now you gotta act like a delivery boy today, running around with a stack of papers and putting them in their correct place.

Didn't make things better when you ran straight into someone, causing all your papers to fly

e v e r w h e r e

Not even adding onto the fact that the dish of cookies that the brightly colored Brit was carrying got frosting and crumbs all over them.

Just your luck...

Trying to hastily gather all your papers and try to get the icing off some of them(more like smudge it into the papers more), you didnt notice how the Brit was so close to you before you looked up, staring right into his colorful eyes.

"You have a bit of frosting on your cheek poppet!" Wiping it away with his hand.

The odd gesture left you feeling a bit touched but you couldn't stall, you still had to get the papers delivered.

Excusing yourself you quickly got up and continued on your way, making it a point to repay him later and to be more mindful of who's around the corner.

Oliver continued to stare at you as you left, the feeling of Butterfly's in his stomach being replaced with a stinging pain with seeing you disappear behind a corner.

He made it a point to see you again,

he just had to.

~~~

~2p America~

You had decided to go to one of the local bars to celebrate your countries Independence Day.

The whole city was booming with fireworks, dancing, and of course, drinking.

It was a day that you looked forward to for the whole year, a day filled with joy and being proud of what you represented.

It felt nice to unwind for day (since it was a national holiday your boss let you have the day off), you sorta lost yourself when you started dancing to the music that was blasting in the streets, merging in with all the drunks as fireworks lit up the sky.

What happened next happened so quickly that it took your drunken mind a minute to process.

You had tripped over yourself bumping into a stranger, and if it hadn't been for them catching you, you would have hit the hard pavement of the road.

"I've seen you've fallen for me, dollface!"

Was all the stranger said with looking at your confused and drunken face. All you could do then was just burst out laughing as the two of you started dancing together.

It was then that Allen knew he had fallen for you, your laugh. It was like nothing he had ever heard before, and it was the only thing he wanted to hear!

He only wanted to see you happy from that day onwards.

He would do anything to just see you smile and laugh.

~~~

✨hope you like it anon!

~Platonic Yandere!Axis x Country!Reader~

✨How could I decline when you asked so nicely✨

~~~

~Germany~

-When you go to Ludwig asking for help becoming stronger, he tries his best to help you (even though he's a bit awkward in doing so at times.)

-He started inviting you to work out with Japan and Italy, though he gives you slightly harder workouts then them.

-He always says that it's necessary to help you become stronger (though you swear that the extra minute he added when y'all were doing planks wasn't needed).

-He fears that if he isn't harsh with Your workouts that you won't be able to defend yourself against other nations or if someone was to attack you, and you could feel and that scares him to no end.

-Though he makes up for the workouts by helping you with your everyday life.

-Whether it be moving some of your furniture around in your office, taking care of your pets for you while your away on business meetings (totally doesn't give your pets two treats when you said to give one), organizing papers or just helping you get out of your office when youve spent the last week in it, sending a text to see if you were ok when you miss a meeting, and genuinely cares about your well being (asking you if you've eaten enough or had a good nights rest).

-He honestly just wants the best for you.

~~~

~North Italy~

-work? What's that? By Venezianos standards you've been work too much!

-Veneziano is the guy to physically DrAg you out of your office to accompany him in, just whatever has gotten his attention!

-And how can you say no when he gives you the absolute Cutest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen.

-One day y'all would be painting each other in the park, or going to a wine tasting festival, or just driving ("speed limits, who she?) in his car with the hood down and probably speeding just because their was a sale that ended in 10 minutes and y'all just HaD to go to!

-It's like all your worries go away when your with him, why would you ever leave his side!

-Hes always been the flirty type and that just goes to the max when he's with you. Always complementing you on your outfit, noticing the little details about yourself, like the new pair of shoes you wore that day, if you painted your nails, and even if you changed/started wearing perfumes.

-Why would you ever hang out with anyone else! He's so fun to hang out with that you can’t imagine being away from him!

~~~

~Japan~

-You'd never have guessed you've would have become such good friends with the quiet country of Japan.

-You two first met when you accidentally walked into him with a bunch of papers causing them to fly everywhere. Your embarrassment only increased ten folds when he started to help you even though you told him it was fine.

-After that you started to notice him more and more in world meetings, guess you didn't really pay attention to the people around you or you just needed new eyes.

-You didn't really know how to start a conversation with him since he seemed so closed off from everyone.

-But when you were sitting outside an ice cream pallor in one of your major cities, you happen to notice Kiku taking a picture of your national flowers that were displayed! You almost scared him so much when you came up behind him that he almost dropped his camera on the ground!

-You decided to give him a proper tour of the city since who could do it better then the country themselves!

-You ended up breaking the ice between the two of you and Kiku started to warm up durring the tour.

-Talking about hobby's and about why he chose to visit your country, it was just a fun evening for the two of you with him promising to give you a tour of one of his cities in the future!

-The two of you became closer then ever with him putting cute Polaroid pictures on your seat at meetings.

-After time passed you started to see your friends less and less with your time being taken up with Kiku wanting to take you to see some more landmarks at his home.

-When was the last time you hanged out with one of your friends again?

~~~

~Romano~

-You couldn't tell if he hated you or liked you? It was hard for you to even tell at this point.

-Whenever you tried to talk to him he alway brushed you off or ignored you completely.

-You didn't remember saying anything mean to him when you tried talking to him, and it didn't matter if you tried to be extra nice when you talked to him either. He always got mad at you for some little reason that didn't make any sense to you.

-And then he would just turn around and get angry and call you an idiot for caring large boxes around, and so he had to take his precious time to carry them for you. But then he flipped out when it was Frances boxes that you were helping him out with, now he was yelling and calling you both idiots.

-It was confusing to say the least.

-His bipolar attitude was starting to tire you out to the point were you couldn't even deal with him anymore.

-Then it seemed like he was genuenly hurt when you actively started ignoring him in meetings, like he hasn't done that to you.

-You just can't understand him and you're Sure he doesn't understand you either.

~~~

~Prussia~

-Now meet the master of running off and probably doing something illegal.

-Your first met the trouble maker when you asked him were his brother was, he asked you why and you said you wanted to start working out with the axis. He then loudly exclaimed that he would be a better trainer for you then his brother could be!

-So you started to work out with him instead and god if you though Germanys workouts were harsh. you have N O idea.

-When your done with your daily hour training with him you practically can't feel any of your muscles! He'll force you to train with him on weekends too, and he means it when he says your showing up to train.

-If your not hospitalized, ill or aliens have landed on earth, then theres training to be done!

-Don't even get me started on when he caught you eating a piece of cake and screamed "That's thirty more push-ups at tomorrow's practice C/N!!"

-Sundays and Thrusdays are the only says that you get off and you mostly spend your training time sleeping or doing paper work.

-You can't even recall the horror you showed when he said that you should train with him for two hours a day and if you needed to do work you could workout AND do work at the same time (Just imagining having to go a 3 minute plank while having to sign off official papers left you with nightmares, and that's excluding Prussia screaming in your ear)!

-But you do have to give him credit that the hell he puts you through shows in how your muscles have become more difined, much to your surprise.

-He does make up for the Harsh treatment he does to you by showing you with praise and taking you out to eat afterwards.

-Though it seems like the more time you spend or talk with your friends, he always just adds a little more in your workouts (much to your horror) .

-You still don't know why he doesn't like your friends that much and wants you to spend more time with him at practice.

~~~✨

Yandere Memes Compilation (HSR)

I decided to try something new! I was giggling the whole time😼 I hope y’all like it! Lemme know if you want more!

Opposites: violent yandere x quiet reader

Warning: slightly masochistic yandere, mentions of death (I apologize for this. I cut out a lot cause I feel it became too much in terms of sadism for some) Jack knew he shouldn’t harm people since it would upset you but he loved the look you have him when you scolded him for his wrong doings and how you’d make him pay for it. You never hurt him but you made sure he knew he not to do it again. Well you at least tried to. Too bad for you that he was a glutton for punishment. He thought of wearing jackets more often but loved when people questioned what remained on his body afterwards. The visible proof he belonged to you and you alone. Most people believed your personalities wouldn’t match due to your quietness. A person that kept to themself and an obnoxious airhead that liked to start stuff just couldn’t be good together. You two loved each other dearly and while Jack wouldn’t let his outburst affect your relationship in any way, he wasn’t afraid to kick someone’s ass for messing with you or do worse. A shiver would always run down his spine when he remembered the first time he let his anger take hold of him for too long. - “This is all your fault you know?” Jack crouches down, his eyes locked into a stare with ones permanently frozen in fear. “Y/n has been mine even before we started dating but you could never let them go now could you? It doesn’t matter now though.” A cruel smile forms on his lips as his voice becomes a harsh whisper. “I’ll make sure to hide your hands well so even in death you won’t be able to touch my angel.”

Jack felt a heavy weight lifted of his back once the bastard’s body was gone for good. He still hated him with every fiber of his being. The person he killed was a fellow student that was well liked by everyone but just couldn’t be happy with that. He just had to try and take what wasn’t his and so he paid the price for it. Anyone in their right mind would’ve see that Jack wasn’t in the wrong for what he had done. Jack thought that he got away with the deed. No one questioned him about the disappearance and the buzz soon died after a few weeks. He believed he’d get to live the rest of his life in peace with the one he loved and never look back. Until the day you walked into his living room, holding a bloody baseball bat. It was just going to be a normal date night when Jack asked you to get his jacket for him. His room wasn’t the cleanest and when you looked in his closet you found the old bat. He didn’t know what to do as you stood there, stoic. He was sure you put two and two together and his life would be ruined. He was more worried about never seeing your face again than actually going to jail. Taking slow steps towards you, Jack tried to think of the right words to say but nothing came out. The blank look on your face made his heart ache and he fell to his knees, hugging your waist as his face buried into your stomach. “Y/n please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong but I just had to do it. He wouldn’t leave you alone. I told him time after time that you were mine but he just didn’t want to listen. If you really want to turn me in then just bash my head in with that bat. Say it was self defense. I’d rather die in this exact spot than fall to prove my innocence and be taken from you.” Jack jumps a bit as the bat falls to the ground with a loud thud. His body tenses as you wrap your arms around in him a gentle embrace. “I know it’s hard for you to control your anger Jack.” You say in a soft tone as you look down at him. “Remember when we first met? You were mad at the world as usual. You’ve gotten better with it but deep down I know it’s hard to hold back so I’m not mad this time. That’s why I’ll go easy on you.” “E-easy?” “Jack…. You didn’t honestly think I’d forget about this so easily did you? I need to make sure you know not to do this again. One day you might slip up and get caught so why don’t I do something so that you’ll never do that again in the first place?” - No-one would have ever guess that you were the cause of the rope burns around his wrists or the odd bruises that would litter his skin at times. With a simple smile you’d deny having any part in those markings and that’d be the end of it. Not for Jack though. His face would go deep red every time you got away with it and gave him a glance out the corner of your eye with that smile on your face. He just couldn’t understand how you could be so cute yet so cruel at times.

One afternoon Jack was hang out with a friend when you came out or nowhere and nearly scared the daylights out of him. “I’m terribly sorry.” You tell his friend as you grab Jack by the arm. “I need to talk with him for a few minutes but you can have him back soon.” The friend nods, knowing how Jack got when anyone got in the way of your relationship. He shuttered involuntarily as a memory of what happened to the last person came to mind. You thank him before leading Jack off and he felt both nervous and excited because of your tight grip. “Hey Jack? Did you know there’s another person missing from town? Their face was a bit familiar. I believe we ran into them a few days ago and I remember that you didn’t like their tone when speaking to me.” Jack swallows hard and tries to think of what to do. He knew that lying to you would only make things worse for him but he secretly wanted that. “W-well I didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance. All my time has been focused on you my precious doll. Trust me when I say I haven’t even been by that old park in years.” You grin as you place your hand on his cheek. His heart beat quickens at your touch and as you lean in to whisper something in his ear. “How did you know they were last seen at the park then?” “….. Shit”

could you write a yandere author who sees you in a book signing and changes their work just to appeal to you?

ADORE ME

yandere! author x gn! reader

warnings: yandere, nsfw, short, more of a Drabble tbh, use of the word “fuck” to describe sex lmao

“Oh my god, I love their work, I can’t believe we’re actually here!”

“I know! Their most recent book was definitely the best so far… I just wish it had a little more of a slow burn, you know? The main characters were in love by chapter three.”

“Yeah, but—“

The author tuned out your friend’s response, their lazy, tired eyes moving to inspect you. They’d never seen you at a book signing before, if they had, they would have surely recognized you.

Slow burn, hm? They looked at the book in front of them, opened to the back of the cover for them to sign their name. They swiftly wrote in it, sending away the fan.

A slow burn… that wasn’t a half bad idea. They always felt that their works were missing something big, something exciting… perhaps a more… slow approach was what they had been looking for.

Nearly a year later and you were at yet another one of their book signings, this time for one of their greatest hits yet: a slow burn enemies to lovers.

Their heart skipped a beat upon spotting you in the crowd. Did you know that you had been their inspiration for this latest masterpiece of theirs? Did you know that they thought of you with each word they wrote?

When you finally reached their desk, placing your book in front of them, they prayed to every god there was that you wouldn’t notice the way their face tinted crimson.

“I think this is one of your best books yet.” You confessed with a peppy smile. “Oh, my name is Y/N, by the way.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, uh, so you can write it.“

They cleared their throat and nodded. They swiftly signed your book with sloppy cursive.

To the wonderful Y/N, signed Syd Rhodes.

“Thank you so much!” You cheered, taking the book. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but have you ever considered writing a horror, rather that ro—“

“Come on, outta the way! There’s a whole line behind you, you know!” Yelled a boy behind you, lightly shoving you out of the way.

You laughed anxiously and waved to Syd before taking off.

Their eye twitched a bit, fighting the overwhelming urge to kick the man out of the store.

A horror? You certainly didn’t look like the type to enjoy being scared, but whatever his self-proclaimed muse wants, they get.

Writing a book wasn’t easy. It typically took years, hours upon hours of desperate work. Yet, here you were, at the premiere of Syd’s latest novel, a romantic horror, only a few months after the signing.

You were over the moon that your favorite author had actually taken your suggestion to heart. There was no other possible answer for their sudden shift in genre. You couldn’t contain the butterflies in your stomach no matter how hard you tried.

Syd scanned the crowd of enthusiastic fans. It didn’t take long for them to spot you, they could recognize you by intuition alone.

“Y/N.” They greeted, and your heart jumped to your throat as you turned to look at them. “I thought about what you said… I want to thank you for inspiring me to write again. It was becoming repetitive, a chore… but you reminded me of my passion. So… thank you.”

“Oh, wow… I’m honored! I’m a huge fan!” You exclaimed, putting your hands over your heart. “I just know this book is going to be perfect! You have a real knack for—“

They tuned out your energetic rambles. Not because they didn’t care, but rather, they cared more about watching the way your lips moved, the way your eyes lit up… the way you smelled. When you touched their arm, their senses were completely overwhelmed with you.

Only you.

You hadn’t read it yet… they smiled in anticipation. What would you think by the time you finished their masterpiece?

Would you recognize the description of the main characters, each vaguely inspired by the both of you? Would you blush or bite your lip while reading the dark, twisted, passionate scenes they’d described?

How about the scene when the protagonist kidnaps their lover, then they share a loving kiss and fuck like they’ve lacked human touch all their lives?

How would you feel about that?

They were desperate to know.

hey, I really love your writing! Could we possibly get a Yandere! Juleka Couffaine/Purple Tigress x laid-back! Female! Reader please? Reader is the only person that truly pays attention to Juleka, sparking an obsession. I feel like Juleka would often stalk Reader as Purple Tigress. Maybe one night, Reader is walking home from Nathaniel's house (let's say her best friends are Nathaniel and Marc) and she gets caught by a possessive, jealous Purple Tigress. Purple Tigress gets a little violent and let's say there's noncon kissing and touching?

Yandere!Purple Tigress X Reader Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy, persecution, non-consensual kiss I haven't watched the new season, so I don't know how much Juleka's character differs from previous seasons. Keep in mind that Tigress is bolder and more audacious than Juleka. At least, that's how it seemed to me when I watched LB.

The evening at Nathaniel’s was peaceful. As usual, you, Marc, and Nat spent the time drawing, discussing comics ideas, and casually tossing around a few jokes. You loved nights like this — warm, simple, with no rush. After a noisy day of studying, the silence felt like a gift.

It was already dark when you said goodbye to the guys and stepped outside. Heavy clouds covered the sky, and the wind lazily rustled the leaves on the trees. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket and headed home at a leisurely pace.

The strange feeling hit almost immediately — like someone was watching you. You glanced over your shoulder — nothing. Just the flickering streetlights casting patches of yellow light on the road. You kept walking, deciding it was just exhaustion playing tricks on you.

And yet… footsteps. Quiet, uneven, as though someone was trying to stay unnoticed. When you turned into a narrow alley, a figure emerged from the shadows just a few steps ahead.

Purple Tigress.

You stopped dead, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. She looked tense, like she was barely holding herself together. Her mask hid her face, but her eyes… her eyes burned with something too intense, something wild.

You opened your mouth to say something — anything — but she was faster. She stepped forward, quick and sharp, and suddenly you were pinned against the cold brick wall. Her clawed hand pressed next to your head, blocking any chance of escape.

"You shouldn’t have stayed with them so long," she hissed, her voice low, shaking with emotion. "You’re mine… only mine…"

Her fingers traced your cheek — so gentle, like she was afraid of breaking you. They slid to your chin, tilting your face up slightly, forcing you to meet her gaze.

Your thoughts scattered, and your heart raced even harder. Questions and protests got stuck in your throat.

Then she leaned in closer.

Her lips crashed against yours — harsh, almost painfully so. The kiss was desperate, demanding — not a request, but a claim. Her hands tightened around your wrists, holding you still, making it impossible to move.

The warmth of her body, your trembling knees, her heavy breathing against your lips — it all spun together into a whirlwind of sensation.

When she finally pulled away, your lips still burned, and your breath came in ragged gasps. Purple Tigress stared at you in silence for a long moment. Her hands didn’t loosen, as though she was afraid you might vanish if she let go.

"You’re… mine," she whispered again. This time, it was softer, almost tender — but the threat still hung in her voice.

And you realized: She had no intention of letting you go.

Yandere Jinshi x chaotic reader

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy, persecution Enjoy reading! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Everything highlighted in purple is Jinshi’s thoughts.

You constantly forget to bow to important figures, trip over your own feet, ask awkward questions... and laugh just a little too loudly. “They keep breaking protocol. I remember every mistake they make, yet somehow... I don’t feel annoyed.”

He finds himself listening for your footsteps. When you're in the corridor — he knows. When you're not — he knows that too. He's started noticing even when you're late by just a few minutes. “I should be focusing on the reports. Where are they? Who’s delayed them? Why don’t I know?”

Sometimes you leave little things behind in his office — a handkerchief, a ribbon, a feather. He keeps them. All of them. Hides them in his desk drawer. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he opens it just to look. “Their scent is almost gone. I should ask them for another handkerchief. Or... make them forget they ever left it here. That way, it’ll be mine.”

His jealousy is subtle. Almost invisible. You laugh with someone else. Thank another man for helping you. Bow just a little lower than usual. Jinshi only smiles. “I’ll remember his face. His name. His position. If he ever hurts them... or if they look at him too often...”

Sometimes you bring him strange snacks: “Try it, you’ll like it!” He doesn’t know where you find them. He doesn’t usually eat food like that — too unusual. But he accepts. Eats every last crumb. “Too sweet. But... if it’s from them, I’ll get used to it. I'll teach my body to crave their taste.”

“You're too perfect. It must be so boring. No chaos in your life at all,” you say with a laugh. “You are my chaos. And you don’t even realize how deeply you’ve already taken root in my life. All that’s left is to convince you to stay.”

Jinshi isn’t watching you. Of course not. He’s merely checking on the state of the garden. As always.

The fact that you happen to be there at the same time — a coincidence. Just like how he knows exactly who you're speaking to, what you're saying, and for how long. The physician needed help gathering herbs. Out of everyone in the inner courtyard, he chose you.

Laughter. Light and clear, like bells in the spring breeze. He loves your laughter. Usually.

Right now — he does not.

Right now, he wants to crush that sound in the throat of the one who drew it out.

Jinshi smiles. He approaches silently.

"Ah, you're here. How fortunate," he says, as if he hadn’t heard their entire conversation.

He doesn't spare the physician a glance. His eyes are only on you.

"I came for you. There's something… important."

You look up at him. Embarrassed. Offering a shy, awkward smile. But you follow, ready to do almost anything he asks. Because here, his word is law.

You belong to this place. To the harem. To his order. To his care. To his gaze. If anyone dares reach for you — they must be ready to lose a hand.

Jinshi gestures for you to go ahead. Once you've disappeared around the corner, he finally turns to the physician still frozen in place.

"In the future, please… delegate such tasks elsewhere." His smile remains flawless. "They are responsible for other, far more important duties. I'm sure you understand. After all, you seem to be a very busy man yourself."

And if not — Jinshi will make sure he becomes one

I enjoy ur Moamao x reader x jinshi series! I would love a part 3!

Hi, sunshine. Thank you! Appreciate the feedback 💙 (I haven’t replied to requests this fast in a while lmao). Part 3 is ready :3

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy (nothing special anymore) I think this time, more attention was given to Jenshi. I'll try to write about Maomao next time. She's a sunshine and also deserves her happy time with the reader! (ﾉ･ω･)ﾉ

Part one, Part two, Part three

Minute of glory

— You want me to take part in the play? — you ask Jinshi in complete confusion. A thought creeps into your mind: has he lost his mind? As if agreeing with your thoughts, he gives you a confirming nod.

— You know I was assigned to organize the play. This performance is extremely important because the order comes almost directly from the Emperor. Everything has to be perfect. After all, it's a gift from the Emperor to the entire harem. There are only a couple of days left before the performance, but something happened that we weren’t prepared for. A few actors fell ill. Their roles are minor, but still crucial. We can't just remove them from the script, — Jinshi patiently explains the situation while your brain struggles to process it. He looks truly exhausted and tense. Organizing the event must have drained him. You start to feel a bit sorry for him, yet you still can't understand why he came to you with such a request.

— Just replace them with other actors.

— That’s impossible. All the actors are already involved, — Jinshi glanced at Gaoshun, who immediately joined the conversation.

— We also considered casting one of the concubines for the role, but one of the Emperor’s requirements was to keep the play’s storyline a secret until the main performance. We’re not sure whether the chosen concubine would be able to maintain that secrecy.

After Gaoshun’s words, things became a little clearer. You exchanged glances with Maomao. She had been quietly listening the whole time, stirring a mixture with a wooden spoon.

Jinshi took your hand in his and pressed it against his chest. The spoon in Maomao’s hand let out a desperate crack.

— Please, don’t refuse. I don’t know anyone else suited for this role whom I trust as much as you. I promise, everything will go smoothly. I’ll be right there with you. All we need to do is step onto the stage and perform a short dialogue. There’s still time before the performance. We can rehearse, — with each sentence, Jinshi moved closer. You barely noticed, too distracted by your own anxiety.

Performing in such an important play, in front of everyone—it was nerve-wracking. Oh, Emperor! What if you forgot your lines? But Jinshi was so serious, so certain that he would be by your side. Surely, he would help if anything went wrong. Your heart slowly softened. You wanted to help him.

— What’s the role?

— Lovers.

His answer struck like thunder in a clear sky. A loud crack echoed in the room. The poor spoon — it seems to have broken. You cursed internally. You should have suggested Maomao for the role instead. Such a golden opportunity, wasted.

---

You stand on an improvised stage set up in one of the large halls. A couple of eunuchs are busy checking the props. The main cast has gone on a lunch break. Jinshi said that the two of you should practice a few times on your own before joining the final rehearsal with everyone else later today.

Tense, you try to discreetly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. You can’t even imagine how you’re supposed to act. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. Unfortunately, no one thought to teach you acting skills between rounds of physical labor. The harem really should reconsider its system.

Right now, you’d gladly trade places with Maomao — not just for the sake of her and Jinshi’s bright future, but for your own peace of mind. You cast a helpless glance at the makeshift audience area. Maomao gives you an encouraging smile, trying to cheer you up. Gaoshun nods approvingly and gives you a thumbs-up. Your attention shifts back to Jinshi, who is patiently waiting. He’s too kind to pressure you, letting you take your time. You promised to help. There’s no turning back now.

Blushing slightly and taking a deep breath, you finally begin to say your lines.

— Ah, my beloved! Is fate not cruel? We come from different worlds! — you sigh dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest.

— Fate? I won’t let destiny decide for us! — With a sly smile, the man takes your hand and leans in, his lips almost brushing against your fingers.

To your surprise, Jinshi slips into his role effortlessly, as if he’s been acting his whole life. Watching his confident performance, you start to relax, feeling a little bolder.

— But what will people say?! What will my father say?! — You pull your hand away, turning your back to him, clenching your fists. Jinshi gently turns you back toward him, reaching for your chin and tilting your face up.

— Let them say what they will… You are all I need.

Maomao, watching the rehearsal, takes a hurried sip of tea, trying to hide the nervous twitch on her face. Was this cursed scene supposed to be this intense?

She knew. She felt it. No actor had actually fallen ill. That wretched eunuch had planned everything from the very start.

— Then… then kiss me, if your feelings are true! — you said, your lips trembling.

Jinshi smiles broadly and slowly leans in closer, enjoying the way Maomao grips her cup tighter. Gaoshun nervously swallows. It seemed like, any moment now, the apothecary might start killing. At the last second, you place your palm on Jinshi's face and suddenly pull back.

— No! I can't! — you cry out dramatically.

Maomao exhales in relief. Jinshi laughs, throwing a brief glance at her. With feigned regret, he delivers the final line.

— What a pity… I really tried so hard.

The eunuchs, who had abandoned their work somewhere during your rehearsal, suddenly clap. They enthusiastically mention that the passion between the lovers was played out so convincingly. Encouraged by their praise, you bow to them gratefully. As you finish, Jinshi places his hand on your shoulder.

— You did wonderfully… So, shall we do it again?

You mentally apologize to Maomao, feeling regret. How did it happen that you stole her shining moment? A crack of glass is heard. The poor cup… It seems to have broken.

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy (nothing special anymore)

Part one, Part two

The Letter

"New day – new achievements," you thought as you stepped into the pharmacy at the start of the day. Maomao greeted you. Jinshi and Gaoshun were there as well. You flashed a sly smile at everyone present. Today, you were going to do something that would change your friends' lives forever.

The presence of the harem overseer today was nothing unusual. Once again, Maomao was assisting him with an investigation. You didn't bother with the details. Their cases usually involved deaths and had a rather gloomy air about them.

Maomao was silently jotting down notes when Jinshi, who had been watching her, decided to break the silence. "Are you always this serious?" he asked with a faint smirk.

You perked up your ears.

"Unlike some people, I prefer to work rather than waste time on idle chatter," Maomao replied without looking up.

Jinshi chuckled. "Maybe you should finally try taking a break? They say it helps keep you from going insane with your own thoughts," he mused before shifting his attention to you and winking. Your breath hitched. He smugly thought himself charming for managing to fluster you without even trying.

But you weren’t thinking about him at all. You were busy coming up with a name for the kitten they would surely get once they ended up together.

"Better to go mad from thoughts than from stupidity."

You barely hold back a laugh, covering your face with the wide sleeve of your robe. Watching them is better than any romance novel all the harem girls are obsessed with these days.

Maomao notices your strange expression. She’s about to ask if you’re feeling alright but gets distracted by a servant entering the pharmacy. Not the one you had secretly made arrangements with the day before. But in his hands is the letter.

So, everything should be fine… Right?

No.

He hands the letter to you. The letter that was meant for Maomao.

"This is for you," the servant says obligingly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, alarmed, trying to send him a desperate signal with your twitching eye in a Morse code that has yet to be invented.

But the man nods coolly, shoves the letter into your hand, and leaves—abandoning you to the hell of your own making.

"It must be something important," Maomao says, setting her work aside as she approaches you with interest.

"Oh. No. I'm sure it's something silly," you laugh nervously, trying to hide the letter. But Jinshi gently—yet insistently—plucks it from your grasp.

"I shall read it!" he declares grandly and begins reciting the love letter aloud.

You are utterly mortified, wishing you could burn to ashes on the spot.

"…You have captured my heart."

Jinshi finishes with far less enthusiasm than he started.

"An anonymous love confession," Maomao summarizes dryly.

"Who wrote this?!" Jinshi exclaims, unusually agitated.

"Why are you so flustered?" Maomao glares at him from under her lashes, looking as if she's already considering which poison could take him out without raising suspicion. "Were you planning to confess yourself?"

"I just want to know who dared to write this to my— I mean, our… dear acquaintance," Jinshi barely corrects himself, too upset to choose his words carefully.

"It’s probably just a mistake," you blurt out in panic. Because if Maomao decides that this letter was meant for you from Jinshi… your days are numbered.

"This could be a conspiracy," Maomao concludes, finding her own logic perfectly reasonable.

"A conspiracy?!"

"Yes. To lure them into a meeting and rob them. Or interrogate them. She's connected to you, after all."

At this point, Gaoshun decides to step in.

"I still think… it's just a letter."

You're this close to bursting into tears. Here he is—your savior, the most reasonable of men. But, of course, no one except you is paying him any attention.

"We should interrogate that servant."

"We’ll wait for the sender to reveal themselves."

"NO ONE is going to reveal themselves! Because this was obviously not meant for me!" you shout at them in pure desperation.

The two paranoid lunatics finally fall silent. But not for long.

"Fine. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you. For your own safety," Jinshi says, reaching out in an attempt to touch your face.

A loud slap echoes through the pharmacy. Maomao has smacked his hand away. You feel your soul leave your body.

"Watch over them? What are you, some kind of pervert? I will be watching you—to make sure you don’t do anything stupid," she declares, wrapping her arms around you protectively, shielding you from the dangerous man.

"Enough!" Gaoshun’s patience finally snaps.

This time, the sheer authority in his voice forces the pair to pay attention. The room settles into silence.

"I’ll take the letter to confirm whether it was truly delivered to the right place. You all—get back to work. We don’t have all day, Master Jinshi."

Before leaving, Gaoshun casts a disapproving look your way.

You realize—he knows. You don’t have to worry. He’s got your back. But that doesn’t make you feel any less mortified. You should get him a gift to thank him for the trouble. Maybe then, the emperor will take pity on you and have you executed for something.

"Haha… funny how these things happen," you laugh nervously.

Neither Maomao nor Jinshi are willing to let you go just yet. They seat themselves beside you, one on each side, and begrudgingly return to work.

"The letter idea wasn’t so great after all," you admit to yourself in silent defeat.

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: possessive behavior, eunuch-related themes, stupid funny youth ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Part one, Part two

Misunderstanding

It was nearing lunchtime. Maomao finally decided to take a break. She set the box down on the table, wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, and glanced around in search of you. You were nearby, carefully arranging ingredients in their proper places. She wanted to call out to you to invite you to eat together, but she didn’t get the chance.

The front door swung open, and Jinshi glided in as gracefully as a butterfly, with his indispensable assistant at his side. To Maomao’s displeasure, the eunuch immediately captured your attention. You greeted the men politely, offering them a gentle smile. Maomao clenched her teeth so hard it felt like they might crack.

Maomao liked working in the pharmacy. She enjoyed handling medicines and having space for her poison experiments. She liked being useful, even though she rarely said so out loud. To her surprise, she also liked her apprentice. Curious and diligent, you had grown on her more than she cared to admit.

From the very beginning, you showed remarkable determination in your desire to learn her craft. Like her, you wanted to be useful to the imperial court. You wanted to ease Maomao’s workload, something you once admitted to her. You paid close attention to her every word, absorbing knowledge and striving to remember it for future use. Since you arrived at the palace, you had come a long way—transforming from a timid, frightened slave who couldn’t even write into a charming pharmacy assistant whom Maomao could already trust to manage a full day of work on your own. She was proud of you.

But, like any blossoming flower, you started attracting all sorts of insects.

Unfortunately, you weren’t only admired by Maomao. Lately, Jinshi had been visiting the pharmacy suspiciously often. At some point during your brief interactions, the eunuch-pervert (in Maomao’s one and only opinion, of course) had taken a liking to your delightful reactions. You were sweet and kind to him but didn’t swoon over his charm like every other girl (and not only girls) in the palace—excluding Maomao herself, who felt like vomiting every time he turned on his so-called charm.

He kept coming back again and again (though he could’ve easily assigned such trivial matters to any servant!) and flirted with you unbearably long—at least, as much as his status allowed (which, according to dear Maomao, was obscenely too much). Sometimes he grew bold enough to touch your shoulders or your hair (How dare he?), and—worst of all—he made you laugh. A lot.

Maomao snapped out of her thoughts and, deciding for now not to throw a book at the eunuch, smoothly slipped between the two of you, greeting the visitors in a (she tried) friendly manner.

“You’re here again, Lord Jinshi. Could it be that you’ve fallen ill? The sick are supposed to stay in bed and not get up.”

“Oh, not at all, dear Maomao. I’m here merely for a consultation,” Jinshi replied, ignoring the sly remark with his usual refined grace.

“With such burning enthusiasm for consultations, be careful—your manly virtue might awaken again,” Maomao fired back, choosing an especially sharp comment to jab at Jinshi and subtly remind you that he could never be a proper husband, so there was no point in even considering him as one.

“If that is fate’s will, then perhaps I’m destined for another purpose,” Jinshi responded lightly, as always unfazed by her mockery, casting a brief glance in your direction. Maomao’s eye almost twitched.

“But then you’d be dismissed from service. The entire harem would mourn such a loss. You’re of great value to us. If that ever happens, I’m ready to secretly prepare a special decoction just for you,” Maomao said with polite courtesy, omitting the fact that, instead of a decoction, she’d much rather put a hammer to good use. Perhaps to knock something else off the eunuch—like his head.

You watch their bickering closely. Your heart skips a beat with a sudden realization. You bring a hand to your mouth and whisper softly:

“Oh. They’re… madly in love with each other. How did I not see it sooner?”

Gaoshun, standing nearby, became an unwitting witness to your conclusion—and couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He slowly turned his head, casting a shocked glance at you.

But you noticed nothing, too lost in your own fantasies.

Gaoshun let out a heavy sigh. These young people would drive him insane.

I’m back with a character from a little-known game. Apologies to everyone who originally came here for Ladybug and to those who left requests in my inbox. I’m completely uncontrollable when it comes to choosing fandoms.

Happy New Year to everyone, and Merry Christmas in advance! 💙

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! Pairing: Yandere! Solivan Brugmansia x Reader tw: obsessive behaviour, delusional yandere, oppressive atmosphere, descent into madness, aggressive behavior towards the reader (short scene)

"The Perfect You"

Sol sits in a dimly lit room, a blank canvas before him. In the corner of the room, several portraits of his beloved lean against the wall, but none of them feel right. The eyes in each one seem... empty. “This isn’t you,” Sol whispers, discarding yet another sheet. His fingers tremble slightly as he grabs a piece of charcoal and begins again.

He draws, again and again, but the more he works, the more the details start to feel... wrong. Sol stares at the portrait. The shadows beneath the eyes are too deep, the smile on the lips is warped, and the silhouettes in the background—they’re not supposed to be there.

Sol is certain. He didn’t draw them.

---

Sol paces frantically around his studio. He hurriedly moves the painting from the canvas to the corner, adding it to the pile of failed projects, and covers everything with a sheet. He’s happy you decided to visit, but he would’ve appreciated a little more time to prepare.

You flutter into his apartment like a butterfly. Sol drinks in your presence, your gestures, the expressions on your face. He hopes—desperately—that you’ve finally realized how much you need him, just as he needs you. But instead, you casually ask to borrow his study notes, oblivious to the crushing disappointment that sweeps through him. Sol can’t refuse you. He asks you to wait while he retrieves the notebooks.

As he steps away, you glance around his workshop-turned-living space. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the pile of covered canvases in the corner, but you decide against asking about them. Instead, your gaze shifts to the window, where something else catches your attention: a collection of more than ten portraits of yourself, lying on the windowsill.

You’re stunned by the sheer amount of time Sol must have spent on them. But the longer you look, the more unsettling details begin to emerge. Shadows that shouldn’t be there, distortions in your smile, and an uncanny intensity in the way your eyes are drawn.

When Sol returns with a stack of notebooks, he freezes, his expression shifting to fear as he notices the pages in your hands. He studies your face, trying to gauge your reaction, already calculating his next move.

“Is this… how you see me?” you ask, struggling to mask your unease.

A strange excitement flares in Sol’s eyes. “No… not yet. But I’m trying to capture you as you truly are.”

---

Sol begins to notice that each new portrait interacts with him in strange ways. If he stares at them for too long, the shadows on the drawings seem to shift. Sometimes, he swears he can hear you breathing through the canvas.

One night, he wakes abruptly with the unsettling sensation that someone is standing by his bed. For several minutes, he stares at your angelic face, only to watch it slowly twist into a grotesque grimace. You hate him. You despise him.

The nausea hits Sol like a wave. He stumbles out of bed, his breathing ragged, and for the first time in his life, he turns your portrait to face the wall.

---

Sol decides he needs the object of his obsession to complete the perfect portrait. He asks you to pose for him. You agree to be his model without much hesitation, and Sol is convinced this time he’ll succeed.

But every time he begins to paint, a strange feeling washes over him, as if he’s losing something vital. “This doesn’t look like you…” he mutters. “Why? You’re right here in front of me.”

You watch awkwardly as Sol grows increasingly tense and suggest taking a break. Frustrated beyond reason, he snaps. Tossing the canvas aside, he lashes out: “You’re hiding from me! Why can’t you just be real?”

Startled, you start gathering your things to leave. It’s only then that Sol realizes what he’s done. He stops you at the door, dropping to his knees. Tears streak his face as he begs for forgiveness, his trembling hands clutching at your clothes with a desperate grip. Sol has never been more broken, but you don’t listen.

You push him away and walk out.

Sol collapses to the floor, thinking to himself that he’s as good as dead.

---

Since that day, you haven’t answered his calls. He’s tried talking to you at college, but you keep avoiding him, always hiding behind Crowe.

Sol paces in circles around his apartment. He wants to tear his hair out. He wants to kill Crowe. He just wants… for you to love him. As much as he loves you.

He stops abruptly. The blank canvas catches his eye.

Sol decides to try painting you one more time. If you could see yourself through his eyes, you’d understand. You’d forgive him.

---

When Sol wakes up the next morning, his studio is empty. The only thing left is the perfect portrait.

His palm aches. He thinks he should clean the brushes to keep the paint (and blood) from ruining them. Finally, he understands what the previous portraits were missing.

He looks at the painting. Your image on the canvas seems alive. Happy. Only the eyes remain as dark and hollow as they were in the earlier sketches.

The silhouettes behind you move. They whisper to Sol. He listens to them.

He realizes there’s no point in chasing after you when his perfect version of you is already here. Right in front of him.

Now, at last, you can be together.

Yandere!Gale X Reader Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: obsessive behaviour, mild somnophilia, non-consensual kiss

The camp greeted the night with peaceful silence. Another difficult journey was behind us. A fight with a small group of goblins left everyone exhausted. After a serving of hot stew, you immediately dozed off on your sleeping bag, not finding the strength to change your clothes. The fire crackled behind you, warming you pleasantly.

A mysterious silhouette separated from one of the tents and moved towards you. The firelight illuminated him, revealing Gale. The man sat down next to you and looked at you thoughtfully. He had a warm cloak folded in his hands, which he immediately covered you with. Gale froze, looking closely at your face. Never before had he been able to enjoy such closeness. A reluctance to leave settled in his heart. You slept in ignorance of how beautiful, how stunning his eyes saw you. Road dust stained your cheek. Gale reached up to gently wipe your face. Rough fingers touched your face. His heart stopped for a moment.

"Gorgeous," a barely audible whisper escaped his lips.

----

Gale felt especially brave. He leaned towards you, one hand on the ground and the other still on your cheek, and kissed you. His lips touched yours for the first time. The Netherese Orb in the wizard's chest began to pulse. He frowned. Gale wanted so badly to deepen the kiss. He wanted to see how far he could go before you woke up. But the curse in his chest made him stop. What is he doing? It's too dangerous. What will he say if you catch him doing something like this? Gale tensed. He realized that his actions were wrong. But how can he resist when you're so close? He runs his nose over your face and kisses the corner of your lips, showering light kisses all over your cheek, eyebrow and chin. After this, Gale hides her face in your neck. He enjoys your warmth and natural scent. He counts the pulse. Gale's eyes begin to close. He would like to stay with you in his arms. But he knows you won't be happy to see him so close. You are comrades. Maybe a little bit friends. But not lovers. And it makes Gale's insides hurt. He hopes that time will change that. He leaves one last kiss on your neck. You moan softly in your sleep. Gale's face flushes. He's happy to elicit this reaction from you. He would really like you to stay awake and give yourself to him willingly. But all he can do tonight is leave before someone catches him and things get complicated.

-Sweet dreams. See you in the morning - he says goodbye tenderly and gets up to go to his tent, followed by someone's gaze from the darkness.

From now on, Withers will keep the wizard's secret along with many other secrets of his own.

Horrortober Day 16 - Spell

I'm a little late today ^^ I had an internal argument about the character

Well, I decided to go with Barbatos from Obey me! A yandere Barbatos x Reader, basically

Horrortober Challenge by @yandere-sins and @pastelbirb

Tw: implied stalking; kidnapping

_____________________________________________________________

➤ Day 16: Spell “It’s like you put a spell on me.” | Make your drawing magical!

-

He was so … polite when you first met him.

He visited the café you worked at with two other men and had asked for the person who had made the cake. You were about to leave when your colleague came to find you and told you all about the customer. When you went to the front and introduced yourself as the person responsible for all the cakes and other sweets that were sold he showered you with compliments.

Introducing himself as Barbatos, he asked you about the cake and later about your job in particular. You told him that you were a confectioner and all you could about the cake - except for the details you had changed in the recipe. It would still come out well if he wanted to make one himself just not exactly like yours.

He was very nice and easy to talk to but it didn’t escape your notice that his two friends were watching with great interest as he kept on talking to you. “Never thought he could be such a chatterbox,” the raven haired one quietly said to the redhead. So, it seemed he was normally more quiet.

It didn’t matter much to you, after all, you’ll probably never talk to him again. Still, it was a nice conversation so a smile came naturally to your face and you stayed quite a bit longer than normal.

Life went on like usual after that day until one day your colleague asked you to come up front again. To your great surprise you were greeted by Barbatos once more.

“I tried to bake your cake. It came out great but … not exactly like yours,” he admitted kinda sheepishly. It was actually really cute. “Yeah, that’s just because I don’t make it exactly like the original recipe wants you to, but if I told my little secret to our customers then who’d come here to buy anything?” “Ah, I understand.” He smiled sweetly and you happily smiled at him in return. He really was a nice guy, even though you didn’t know much about him.

The next time you met him was by chance. You were on vacation and just strolled through town a little looking at the window displays of the shops when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Needless to say that you were quite surprised to see him standing behind you as you turned but you soon had forgotten about that as he engaged you in a lively conversation. He was so easy to talk to and pretty soon you found yourself on a bench in the quiet part of the park talking to him.

Nothing special. At first you had talked about the day - what you were doing and that kinda stuff - and then a little more about cakes. Then the topic shifted a little to be about what he was doing - seemed he was some kind of butler.

“It was really cute seeing you the other day. You were on the playground with a little child.” “Well, yes. I was looking after my nephew.” That was weird. You were sure there were no other people around that day. Barbatos seemed to catch on to your sudden discomfort and changed the topic.

“You know, it is really bewitching.” “Bewitching? What is?” That sudden remark caused you to smile a little in confusion. He smiled back at you. “Your smile is. It’s like you put a spell on me.” Your expression went blank and you shifted in your seat causing him to raise a brow in question. It wasn’t even two months ago when you broke up with your last partner in a very unpleasant way, so you didn’t really like the way this conversation was going.

“It was really nice meeting you again, Barbatos. I gotta go now.” As abruptly as you stood up you didn’t notice his expression changing. What you did notice was when he caught your wrist to stop you from leaving. “I’m sorry Barbatos but I really have to go now.” When he looked up at you he had a polite smile on his face that didn’t give away his real emotions. “It’s so nice hearing you say my name.” Startled, you looked at him. He was right. It was the first time you had actually used his name. “Could … could you let go of me now?” “Can you say it again?” His expression remained unreadable. “Barbatos” you said, pulling your arm to remind him of your request but he didn’t let go.

“You know, I wanted to be patient but coming here isn’t that easy for me and I can’t leave my Lord Diavolo all to himself over a prolonged period of time …” He seemed to think about something while you stared at him confused. What was he even talking about?

“Yes,” he finally said “I think it’s best if I just take you with me. Then you can just show me how you’ve changed the recipe of your cakes.”

You stared at him in confusion that soon turned to pure horror when his appearance changed in front of you: Somehow he suddenly had strange bone like wings attached to his head but what caught your attention more was the split tail loosely wrapping around your waist.

Terrified you tried to get out of his grib yet even though he wasn’t holding you with much force you couldn’t get his hand to open no matter what you did. Barbatos continued to smile at you and even tried to calm you down a little but you didn’t want to be calmed down. Breathing way too fast you still tried to get your hand out of his hold until you felt too dizzy to continue your struggle. Barbatos easily caught you once your legs gave way.

“Don’t worry, (y/n). You’ll like it.” That was the last you heard before you blacked out.

He was so polite when you first met him.

How could you have been so wrong?