#protection potion ♦️

[ceruleancattail]

Yandere Octavinelle being fascinated with the red of your blood.

TW: yandere, gore, slightly suggestive

In the depths of the sea, the colour red doesn’t exist. Scarlet, ruby, crimson…. These mean nothing to the creatures born of the ocean.

Blood to them is just a dark liquid, with a strong, heavy metallic smell that weighs on all the senses. Something primal, yet alluring at the same time. Perhaps it’s the hunter genes in them, the need to sink their teeth into a squirming, bloody mess. To clutch and hold someoneuntil it breaks under their grip, to devour them whole.

The stench of blood drives all three of the Octavinelle boys slightly off the rails.

Azul nips your shoulders when he’s holding you. Dark red marks dip down the curve of the base of your neck, blood gleaming scarlet in the faint light. It almost looks like a string of pearls, draped across your skin.

Azul does it as gently as he can. The plush of his lips pressing softly against your bare skin, the chill sinking deep into your flesh. Before he takes a bite. Nibbling at your skin until his teeth breaks through and draws blood.

Sometimes, he sits back and watches his handiwork with a perverse pride. Watching your neck beaded with your very own blood, a grin spreading across his cheeks. Of course, you’ll never be far from him while he’s admiring you.

Azul’s legs tangled with your own, arms tight around your torso. Holding you down, your back pressed flush against his chest. Azul craves your touch, like a creature craves air. It hurts, whenever you’re not around. Like a dagger stabbing through his heart, again and again and again. A frenzied attack on his very being.

Look at the effect you have on him, darling. You won’t be as cruel as to leave him without a reprieve, would you?

Floyd doesn’t even give you a chance. Without so much as a warning, his fangs are already plunging themselves into whatever part of your body you deemed fit to expose that day. Floyd isn’t picky.

You’re unceremoniously shoved under him, Floyd’s fingers wrapped tight around your wrists. They dig in your flesh, leaving bright red welts against your skin. He throws you on whatever flat surface he can, before clambering over you. Pinning you down with the sheer bulk of his body alone. Habits from the hunt, trained into the memory of his very muscles.

Floyd quite literally knocks all the fight out of you, wrapping himself around you as tightly as he can.

Every part of your body is lined with violent, bleeding bite marks, scarlet gushing from them. There’s nothing but that metallic stench in your nostrils, stinging every crevice of your nose like a thousand wasps. Floyd isn’t gentle, not by a long shot. You’re just so warm and soft, Shrimpy….

You can’t really blame him for taking a bite or two, right?

Jade enjoys watching you squirm. There’s just that shiver of glee that runs down his spine whenever you twist and turn. Struggling in his arms, trembling away all the while. Watching your futile efforts is entertaining in itself. Separating yourself from him is something you’ll unfortunately never achieve in this lifetime.

Not when your blood is this sweet.

Jade’s fingers wrap around your limbs tight, the blade of his nails digging into your flesh. Lining your arms with crimson crescents, the ruby-red flaring to life on your skin.

He varies the pressure he uses to press down into your skin. Sometimes quick and firm, sometimes slow and gruelling. Leaving you on your toes, eyes watching his hands glide through your limbs with quivering fear.

Yet once you’re overly focused on the antics of his hands, Jade makes his move. Burrowing his face into the crook of your neck, fangs sinking quick and deep into your very flesh. Piercing right through your skin, drawing blood. He stays there for quite awhile, tongue lapping up whatever spills out of his bite.

It’ll be a shame to waste even a single drop, no?

[jamil-s-wifey]

🧿MASTERLIST🧿

⛈️ - angst

🌤️ - fluff

🌧️ - smut

☁️ - Crack fic

🌨️ - character x character

HEARTSLABYUL

ALL:

Pining Headcanons🌤️

👑Riddle Rosehearts👑

♥️Ace Trappola♥️

♠️Deuce Spade♠️

♦️Cater Diamond♦️

♣️Trey Clover♣️

SAVANNACLAW

ALL:

S/O asks to be bred 🌧️

🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁

Leona goes blind protecting his s/o ⛈️🌤️

Leona with a praise kink 🌧️ Leona's S/O gets lost in the palace 🌤️☁️

🍩Ruggie Bucchi🍩

🐺Jack Howl🐺

OCTAVINELLE

ALL:

🐙Azul Ashengrotto🐙

🍄Jade Leech🍄

🦐Floyd Leech🦐

SCARABIA

ALL:

🐍Jamil Viper🐍

Jamil gets sick, gets an s/o as well🌤️🌧️ Jamil has a nightmare, goes to his S/O, fluff ensues 🌤️

🎉Kalim Al-Asim🎉

POMEFIORE

ALL:

🦚Vil Schoenheit🦚

🏹Rook Hunt🏹

🍎Epel Felmier🍎

IGNIHYDE

ALL:

💠Idia Shroud💠

DIASOMNIA

ALL:

🐲Malleus Draconia🐲

🦇Lilia Vanrouge🦇

🐊Sebek Zigvolt🐊

🗡️Silver🗡️

STAFF

ALL:

🎭Dire Crowley🎭

🥀Divus Crewel 🥀

💀Sam💀

🏈Ashton Vargas🏈

⏳Mozus Trein⏳ CHARACTER X CHARACTER:

OT3 Basketball club poly dating hcs 🌧️-ish🌨️

DORM/VICE DORM LEADERS:

Dorm Leaders Dorm leaders with a crush, who's drunk a love potion 🌤️ Vice Dorm Leaders

[mairen-marionette]

♦️ for billiam TFTSMP :)?

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

For hobbies:

- He grows herbs and other plants, partly for practical reasons but also to have something to do. Some of these plants end up as teas or in potions, other times they're just there because they were pretty or unusual. He also has a small but decent farm of netherwart, mushrooms, and some nether-specific plants in the basement. The man makes a lot of potions, even ones that are not listed in common recipe books (example: water resistance potions, for Butler's sake- just because humans have no use for them doesn't mean they aren't useful. And just because it's not in the standard recipes doesn't mean it does not exist.)

- He reads a lot, spends a lot of time in the library and tries to get new books whenever possible. He's also multilingual, so that helps in finding new things to read. He can spend hours upon hours researching something, days and weeks even, and often reads before retiring for the night. More often than not, there's a book on his bedside table.

- He writes things down at night in a book he hides somewhere, recordings of his day mostly, as well as notes on the Egg. He also has a whole book dedicated to notes, observations, and sketches of the Egg.

- He's also very good with a crossbow and makes it a habit to practice semi-often, especially if certain people he knows happen to be in the area. Gotta remind the people who don't like you that you are, in fact, a very good shot.

- ...there aren't many Piglins in the local Nether who speak English, let alone speak to or interact with him aside from trading with him, avoiding him entirely, and occasionally helping him out if he runs into difficulty, but there are a few young ones who he's managed to befriend somewhat and teach English to. In return, they teach him Piglish. He tries to visit the Nether at least once a month as a result.

The Nether Piglins's views on Billiam and people like him are basically "you're enough like one of us that we will acknowledge and protect you to an extent, but we don't trust you, not fully." If this view is different in other places in the Nether, Billiam has not yet found them. It's bad enough not being fully accepted by humans, that's one thing, but he did at one point hope that maybe he'd have better luck with Piglins. At least the young ones like him, he has that at least.

For quirks:

- One thing he does is subconsciously keep track of small children. Maybe it's a Piglin thing, maybe it has to do with being made to babysit his little cousins when he was younger, he really does not know. All he knows is that if there's a small child around, he's going to be aware of them and if something were to happen to that child, he'll know and know fairly quickly, too.

In fact, there was actually an incident involving an attempted kidnapping of a potential business partner's children for ransom a few years back, and the only reason anyone knew what had just happened was because Billiam noticed how suddenly quiet it had become in the background, had a bad feeling, decided to go and check with said bemused business partner trailing after him, and let's just say that things did not end well for said would-be kidnapper and that business partner was very shaken by the incident and very relieved that his children were okay.

- This may be less of a quirk and more of a habit, but he makes sure to keep a Totem of Undying on his person at almost all times, as well as splash potions of healing, regen, strength, and fire resistance. In recent years, he's included water res potions in the mix as well.

- He moves around a lot when happy or excited, and if alone or with someone he's comfortable with, will actually let himself make some of the same sounds Piglins do. It can also happen on accident as well, especially if he's caught off guard, and he's always embarrassed whenever that happens to say the least of it. Let's just say that in the past, when he was a lot younger, displaying those kinds of traits was... it didn't go well for him. He's gotten more comfortable now, though, with age and distance away from his past. It's still hard though, even after all these years.

- He's almost always wearing some form of gold on him and will gift gold in some form those he considers close to him. He can handle soulfire lamps just fine, but open flames are... he can handle them, but he can hear why most Piglins stay away from it. Still makes him uneasy, gives him gooseflesh. He's also fine around zombified piglins, even feels some form of kinship with them (he's not accepted by other Piglins either, not really), though he can smell the rot in them and understands why Piglins stay away from the poor things, mostly harmless though they are. He may not be affected by the Rot, but full Piglins are not as fortunate.

- He absently touches his neck when speaking of certain topics, namely whenever questions about his past crop up or something happens to bring up those memories for him. It's one of his first instincts to protect his neck, and also protect Butler, assuming he's nearby. He did the same thing for Hubert, when he was still with them. He and Moon don't talk about Hubert.

And that's some of the things I've got so far for him.

[avashnea]

Strengths and Flaws:

Silvairre Merthelin-  Machinist/ ex-Rogue

- bold what applies

❌ Flaws-

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling  | conceited | possessive | paranoid | lies | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | self-degrading

♦️ Strengths-

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

🎨 Skills and hobbies

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | beachcombing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leatherworking | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | minor potion tricks/trinkets | flying

Tagged by: @yemyfuhai​

Tagging @anjastasia​ @hoth-and-cold​ @cavalier-life​ @darkshadeless​ @mossygator​ 

[ceruleancattail]

May i request for Yandere Riddle but Its actually Alice in wonderland? Like Riddle replaces the Queen of hearts and the reader is Alice.

Acceptance

Yandere Queen of Hearts Riddle x reader

Your back ached.

Standing stock still, spine yanked as straight as it would go. Almost like a statue, carved out of unmoving rock. He expected that of you.

Wait until you’re called upon.

Be obedient.

Today, The Queen of Hearts decided to grace you with some proper attire. You expected a delivery by one of her card soldiers, knocking some strange, bizarre rhythm into your door.

You didn’t expect he would come himself.

The clothes themselves were picture perfect. Every fold artistically arranged with a gaudy amount of bows and ribbons. Everything was ironed with a blazing hot iron. The metal gleamed a sinister ruby, pressed against the cloth until you could smell the foul, heavy stench of something charred beyond saving. The smoke choked you, silver wisps curling up from the fabric, waxing and waning hazily right before your eyes.

With all the ribbons and the fuzz, you felt like one of the Queen’s tarts.

All dolled up pretty just for a show.

The clothes were immediately thrown at you, molten flames sewn into a garment designed to pinch at all the wrong places. Stone grey eyes watched you expectedly. Waiting for your words of gratitude, perhaps?

For you to prostrate yourself before the Queen of Hearts , devotedly clutching onto the attire, tongue-tied with gratitude for his generosity. Maybe he would have liked to hear you stutter, simpering over just how wonderful he was.

It was all you could do not to hurl right there and then, staining the reds and white with the foulness of your bile. That would have been a damn better sight then all the shows the Queen… no, Riddle Rosehearts, insisted on hosting.

Grand affairs where all 52 card soldiers stood at attention, swarms of crimson and ebony parading across his estate. The grand gallows would be set up, blades polished into a steely gleam. In the golden rays of the sun, it shone with a certain grim determination.

A sharp click of tongue. Riddle was losing his patience. It would not do to dawdle, especially in front of royalty. Quickly, you sunk into a shallow bow, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered onto your face.

Arms slipping into sleeves, you did your best not to wince. The heat of the fabric stung, blazing-hot needles stabbing themselves deep into your flesh. The cloth itself dug deep into your shoulders, constraining your movements.

Much like a straitjacket. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. You were probably the last person in here who needed to be put into one. Every last soul in Twisted Wonderland was mad.

God help you, you might follow suit if this keeps up.

A round of applause. Riddle’s gloved hands clasped each other as he beamed at you. Smile as dazzling as the golden crown that adorned his head.

“You look simply ravishing, my dear.”

His arm stretched out, pinching the cloth that draped over your thigh. Instantly, your hand rushed over in attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

In the process, your fingertips brushed against his, nudging him back ever so slightly. A brief touch could be explained away with a smile and a joke. Pushing him, out of all people, away?

You could feel the anger radiating off him. The searing heat coming off his body in waves, scorching every inch of your skin. The slight tremble in his fingers as they reached for your collar, gripping firmly.

Riddle drags you forward by the throat, yanking you closer to him. Your lungs gasped, collapsing into themselves. Your chest shuddered, trying to inhale even just the slightest breath of air-

It burns.

Your throat, your nose, your mouth were all on fire, forked tongues of pain jabbing deep into your veins. Everything burnt.

With a fury like no other.

Spluttering, your hands claw at his wrist, lips moving soundlessly, desperately. Begging Riddle to release you, to let you breathe-

He finally relents, loosening his grip. Gasping, you clutch at your chest, lungs greedily sucking up whatever air they could reach. It took a few shuddering coughs before your heart stopped racing.

Even then, it still beat rather loudly in your ears. Trashing against its cage of bone, a feral beast threatening to burst right out of your chest.

Gently, something slid across the curve of your chin. A sceptre, as cold as ice. Even the slightest touch made your skin crawl, goosebumps racing up your limbs. Riddle holds it there for awhile, nudging your jaw until your eyes were forced to meet his.

Those accursed crimson irises.

Gingerly, he raises a gloved hand to his lips. Teeth biting down on the edge of the silk, he pulls it off. Discarding it somewhere onto the ground. Riddle reaches for you with his hand, now bare. Cupping your face gently, tenderly, like one would with a lover.

His eyes flickered towards yours, a silent warning.

Do not reject his touch.

Do not reject his gifts.

Do not reject him.

Or it’ll be your head rolling next.

[ceruleancattail]

Serial Killer Rook thoughts:

Tw: Yandere, gore, implied murder, Rook’s very suspicious

Maybe he’s just that one guy living in a lonely little cabin by the lake. Nobody really knows much about him. At most, the villagers could only describe how he looked like, or how peasant he was. “A charming young man” was the most you’ll get out of the villagers’ chatter.

As the “delivery service” of your town, you cycle around on dirt-paved roads, running errands for the townsfolk for a small price. It ain’t much, but it’s an earnest living.

Occasionally, you drop by. Knuckles rapping away on that wooden door, calling out Rook’s name. You figure as someone passing through, it’s your duty to make sure that he hasn’t just upped and died. Rook answers your call promptly, a gentle smile dancing across his lips as he opens the door.

Ah, how nice of you, darling . Taking the time out of your day to check in on him. Oh, just look at you! How exhausted you must be, cycling all this way.

Wouldn’t you come in for a cup of tea? Rook never takes no for an answer, casually shooting down every excuse you could come up with. His arm soon finds itself way around your waist, carefully ushering you into his cabin.

Gently guiding you towards his living room, before those skilled hands of his busy themselves. Pouring you a cup of tea, asking questions. Rook’s way of making small talk, you reason.

What’s your favourite animal?

Oh, those? They were tricky to hunt, that’s for sure. Rook’s caught some before. Maybe next time you could drop by to see him in action.

Favourite colour?

Ah, how beautiful. Rook very much admires that particular shade as well… what an odd coincidence. He’s seen some wildflowers in that colour. Would you care for some blossoms?

How’s life been, in the village?

Ah, is that so? Rook prefers a quieter life, in the woods with nothing but the melody of nature to keep him company. It’s mediative, in a way. Maybe you should try, sometime.

You answer most of them light heartedly, laughing politely. Quipping back some questions of your own, you lean forward expectedly. Only to be greeted with a placid smile, before Rook turns the tables once more.

Emerald eyes staring into yours unwaveringly, their gaze burning into your irises itself. There was something unnerving about the intensity Rook’s eyes had, but you shrugged it off as just… a quirk of his. Yes, it had to be. He had to be focused, as a hunter living off the land… right?

A little weary from the constant bombardment of questions, your eyes flicker around the room, trying to find something else to talk about. Glancing at the walls, your eyes narrow in confusion. Most hunters you’ve known frame at least one or two of their exploits on the walls for the world to see. Even if taxidermy wasn’t their thing, at least there’ll be a photo or two.

Rook didn’t have that. His bows were framed on the walls, yes. Some metal crossbows, strings pulled taunt, ready to fire at any time. These laid beside more traditional bows, ranging from the natural hues of wood to the metallic sheen of steel.

Yet there weren’t any animals in sight. Only… pictures. Pictures of people in black and white. Going about their day. Most of these seemed to portray people in their most natural state, walking around, running errands… all the mundane activities of everyday life. But one thing struck you as odd.

None of them seemed aware they were being photographed. Out of all the photos on the wall, none of the subjects were looking into the camera. How odd.

Turning towards Rook again, you remark about how devoted he was to his craft. Surely to amass such a collection, he must be rather passionate about photo taking. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rook stiffen ever so slightly, a sinister glint gleaming in his eyes. Before it resumed its usual calmness, the placid smile clicking right back into place.

Well, yes… you could say he was very passionate about what he did. These people have treasured the photos Rook took of them… until the day they died.

A chill ran down your spine. You laugh nervously, remarking about how late it was. You should really be getting back to work. For a moment, Rook refused to move. A bead of cold sweat ran down your back, heart thundering away in your chest. Panic rushing through your veins, nothing but the pounding of your pulse beating within your eardrums.

Until finally, Rook got up. He walked you to the door, lamenting that you had to go so soon. It’s so rare he got any visitors. It’s rather lonely all the way out here in the wilderness….

Before you could even think, words slipped right past your lips:

“I’ll come back again. Maybe you can take my photo then?”

The ghost of a faint smirk danced across his lips as he clutched at your hands, proclaiming his gratefulness in elaborate prose. Before you stepped out of his door, Rook places something in your palm.

A necklace of… sorts. A silver charm was threaded through it, in the shape of an arrow. A lucky charm, Rook explained. It’ll keep you safe. Well, as safe as the circumstances allowed, he chuckled.

It used to belong to a client of his, but as of now? They… no longer have any need to use it, you see. So now Rook bestows it upon you! Ah yes, silver looks terrific on your neck.

Waving hesitantly , you cycle away from his cabin. Heaving a sigh of relief you had no idea that you were holding. An odd man… but charming, strangely enough. You guess you could pay him another visit the next time you were out.

Just… another one. To keep him from getting too lonely, Y’know?

From the window of the cabin, Rook stood slyly to the side. Parting the curtain with a single finger, watching you go. Goodness, how adorable. The darling on their bicycle, cycling off into the distance.

How defenceless.

Oh, how did he wish to reach right over, and trap you in his embrace. Rook could tell you were getting unnerved. With your gaze flitting all around, avoiding his own, with your trembling fingers as you pushed yourself off his armchair, clumsy excuses about the time….

Goodness, you were rather adorable, were you not? The silver necklace around your neck fit you perfectly, as well. As expected from his beloved cherie! Worry not, a charm is placed in the arrow itself. Harm will never befall you… well, unless you take it off. Rook wouldn’t know where you were, then. It’ll be hard for him to protect you, then.

That silver chain looked gorgeous around your neck, on that tender, soft skin of yours…

You couldn’t blame Rook for wondering how his own silver arrows would look like, impaled deep into your skin.

[ceruleancattail]

Touch

Guardian Angel Jade x reader

Tw: yandere

Guardian Angel Jade who discovers that he can actually touch you, now. There’s a childlike wonder deep inside his eyes as he reaches towards you. Gently trialing his fingers down the curve of your cheek, cupping your face within his palms. He tilts your chin upwards ever so slightly, smile radiant with joy.

Oh, darling. You have no idea how long he’s waited for this moment. How agonising it was, to be so high above the clouds, yet to never be able to hold you. Having his wings scorched to a charred, pathetic mockery of what they once were was worth it.

Because he’s with you, now.

Jade does try to follow wherever you go. Leaning over your body whenever you have your back to him, slipping his arms around your waist. His head is on your shoulder when you’re on the couch, slyly nuzzling closer whenever your attention wanes. He carries you around when you return home, occasionally dipping your entire body downwards before scooping you up again.

Your gasps and squeals are just so rather entertaining, darling. Besides, there’s just something endearing in the way you clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, you’re as desperate for him as he is for you. Don’t worry, Jade would never put you through that for long. You’ll be securely cradled within his arms, and he would never drop you. Do forgive him, hm?

It’s just a light jest. All in the name of fun. Jade gives you a pleading look, almost like a cat’s petulant pout. You can’t help but forgive him now, can’t you?

That was just like Jade. Always asking for forgiveness, although you’re starting to feel that it’s all for show.

He just seems so intentional, when he does things like deleting your contacts off your phone, leaving the iron on the shirt of your formal wear just a little too long… but he always apologises in the end. Hanging his head in penitence, before suggesting that you just take the day off instead.

Why rush to all these… obligations, when you can just stay at home with him? Poor old Jade, left all alone in the house… you can’t blame him for being a little clingy, can you?

Besides, look at you! You’re just fading away, with how exhausted you are. Surely a day off is just what you deserve? With the silver tongue of Jade, he persuades that day into another week, then a month. Any protest of yours falls on deaf ears. Jade simply nods, that placid smile never leaving his lips.

It takes awhile for you to realise that he’s just humouring you. Pacifying you. Patronising you.

It makes you sick. Yet there’s nothing you can do about it. Jade knows every single one of your little quirks. A tell-tale glance towards the door, the way your fingers just stiffen and twitch whenever he comes a little too close for your liking…

Oh, hatched another escape plan, have we, darling? Go on, struggle all you want. It’s futile, just like with everything else you’ve tried. Jade hasn’t spent the last few years up in the sky in vain, you know?

Now just give up, darling.

Dinner’s ready.

Guardian Angel Jade who’s grown a little too fond of being able to touch you.

Now that you’re in his clutches,

Jade will never let you go.

[ceruleancattail]

Observation

Jade x reader

Tw: yandere, stalking, man’s a literal creep

Jade tends to document things he finds important.

Perhaps it’s just a habit for him, being the vice housewarden of Octavinelle. Penning everything down in a small leather journal, tightly bound by a rubber band. If you think that’s the only protection that bounded book has, you’ll pay dearly for that folly.

Certain… ‘charms’ from the deep sea are sewn into its cover, engraved into every single page. Spells, in a tongue lesser known by the folk who live on land. If anyone peeked within, the next thing they’ll be looking at would be the ceiling of the sick bay.

Jade’s charms aren’t as charming as they sound. He does value his privacy, really. Other than Ocatvinelle’s trade secrets, his own notes and schedules have a place within that book of mystery.

Of course, you have a special place in it as well.

Not that you’ll ever know.

Jade takes special care to make sure you never find out. It’ll be quite problematic if you ever saw whatever he’s… written about you. As much as he had confidence in his silver tongue, no amount of words could probably twist the inked words into something… acceptable.

On those pages lie various passages, scattered throughout the book. A detailed write up about you. Your likes, your dislikes, your unconscious habits… it’s all neatly penned down in cursive, documented in Jade’s little journal.

He spends more time than most, observing you. Sneaking glances through the window, mismatched irises silently taking note of every little thing you do. Jade knows what hand is your dominant one (or perhaps you use both! How talented), which type of pen is your favourite, the expression you have when you’re lost in thought…

Jade knows almost everything about you. Ranging from more innocent topics like your favourite colour, your go-to karaoke songs to… things that you wouldn’t tell anybody. Things that he should not have known.

Your favourite sleeping position. The way your face contorts in fear. How sensitive you were, to someone else’s gaze. Jade timed it himself, trailing behind you like a shadow.

It took quite quickly for you to spin around, clutching at the strap of your bag. Jade clicked the stopwatch himself, chuckling darkly behind a pillar. For someone as tall as he was, Jade’s rather good at hiding.

It makes it very useful, when it comes to watching over you. Oh, don’t get it twisted. He harbours no such delusions of being your “knight”. Jade’s not watching over you to protect you or anything… although he could be persuaded, if you were to come running to him, begging for his help.

Oh no. He’s just observing you, like one of his prized fungi specimens. You fascinate him, truly. Could you really blame him for wanting to find out everything about you? It’s simply a labour of love.

They say true soulmates know every last thing about each other. Well, there’s nothing hard-work and a little perseverance can’t fix, hm?

Jade writes down every last thing about you. He works hard, truly. It’s all for your sake, anyways. Jade will tug and pull on every one of your strings, gently coaxing you closer, closer to him. There’s no use trying to run. Jade knows every single one of your quirks, so much better then you yourself could ever hope to comprehend.

So won’t you accept him, darling ? After all, you’ve got nowhere to run. Not anymore.

Jade has you in the palm of his hand.

He has no plans of letting you go, not anytime soon.

[ceruleancattail]

Mystic Au Jamil thoughts:

Tw: mild yandere

He hardly ever sits down. Even at the crack of dawn, you hear the sounds of rustling in your kitchen. Someone opening up cabinets, the steady beat of a knife dicing vegetables. The soft chimes of your utensils, hitting the edges of your metal pots and pans.

To his credit, Jamil tries to keep everything as quiet as possible. Although sometimes you manage to catch a dull “thump” and a sharp hiss of annoyance. You wince in sympathy. Your kitchen is no space for someone with a tail as long as he was tall.

Jamil Viper, your familiar.

He was a naga, a snake-man, of sorts. Jamil was enchantingly beautiful. With locks of the night’s black spilling from his scalp, braided with thin plates of gold, chiming away with every move he made. Eyes of mist grey, with a seductive quality to them. Those irises of Jamil’s seemed to peer right into your soul, seeing you for everything that you were.

He was a rather tall individual, from the upper torso onwards. Where his legs should be, lies a tail. A snake’s tail, armoured with shimmering scales of ebony and scarlet. Every scale gleaming under the light with the cold, steely glint of a jagged iceberg.

Jamil was cold. Almost unbearably so. It’s a trait of his kind, master. He tells you again and again, mild exasperation leaking into his voice. However, no matter how many times he reassures you that it’s just him, you can’t keep yourself from yelping away once something ice-cold touches your shoulder.

Sometimes, you suspect Jamil relishes your startled gasps and your sharp yowls…. Although you’ll never pry any evidence from those lips of his, Master. You’re welcome to try, though.

Being as cold as he is, you often find yourself being an unwilling portable heater. Jamil’s tail loops around your legs, weaving in and out of your thighs. Keeping them trapped in his embrace, rendering you effectively immobile. His head rests on your shoulder, leaning into the crook of your neck.

Close enough for you to feel his every breath, wafting against the curve of your cheek.

Close enough to hear that breathy sigh of content, to feel his lips slide up every so slightly against your skin.

Close enough to hear his heart, pulse thumping gently against your back. To feel it slow ever so slightly until it blended right in with yours. Beating in time, two hearts as one.

Jamil claims that these daily hugs were purely for warming him up. He needs the heat to be able to operate throughout the day, as a cold-blooded creature. After all, what good can he do as a familiar if he does nothing to serve his master?

Yet he finds himself looking forward to these sessions, oddly enough. To having you in his arms, snuggled into his embrace. To feel your chest rise and fall, the tension melt from your shoulders…

Jamil finds himself growing fonder of you, whether he likes it or not.

So please don’t make him wait too long, Master.

Or else, he might just find his fangs slipping a little too close to your bare shoulder.

[ceruleancattail]

Frigid

Malleus x reader

Tw: Yandere

It was cold.

The wind howled against the windows, like mournful wolves. Rattling the windows frames furiously, a relentless attack. Emerald flames flicker on the walls, torches set ablaze. As must as they illuminated the room with an eerie, green light, they did little to warm you.

Your hands were trembling now, the very tips of your fingers shaking like a lone leaf tossed into a storm. At the mercy of the whims of a force much greater than you were…

Which wasn’t far off from what was happening now.

Clutching at your chest, you curl further into yourself. Trying to preserve whatever bare fragments of warmth that your body still had. Trying to stave off the chill that was now gnawing into your skin, slipping into your very bones. You swear you could feel your blood freezing, frost creeping all over every crevice it could touch.

As you gritted your teeth, you could hear a chuckle. Your fingers tighten around your shoulders, digging faint, pale streaks across your skin. That laugh chilled you to the bone, sending an ice-cold dread, racing down your spine.

You glance to the source of the laugh. A pair of emerald eyes peer back at yours, twinkling with amusement. Malleus Draconia, leaning back into the bed rest. He seems unperturbed by the cold, choosing to stare at you instead. You would have loved to see some sadistic gleam in his gaze, something ugly and cruel. It’ll make your torture much easier to bear, if you had something to bare your teeth at. Someone to hate, someone to blame.

Yet there was nothing of that sort in Malleus’ gaze. Only a patronising sort of amusement that comes from someone watching a rather silly pet. It was sickeningly sweet, much like the sort of cloying artificial syrup that clung onto your throat long after it was swallowed.

Gently, he reaches towards you. Hand resting onto your shoulder, stroking downwards ever so slowly. Despite yourself, you let out a breathy sigh at the feeling of something warm touching your skin. Something that wasn’t the bitter cold, skating over your body.

Reluctantly, you unfurl yourself. Slowly edging closer towards Malleus like a wary animal. He lets you approach, the ghost of a satisfied smirk dancing across his lips. The smile of the victor, looking down at the opponent who never had a chance.

A weight presses into your torso. Malleus’ arms snake around you, coaxing you closer. Until you were curled up on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder. Satisfied with himself, Malleus allows himself a brief chuckle, before his voice drops into a low hum. A lullaby, from his days as a young fae. A comforting melody that has been passed through generations. His voice echoes off the stone walls, engulfing you like a huge, soft blanket.

He held you there, rubbing slow, gentle circles into your back. His touch was loving, affectionate even.

Tender.

You couldn’t help but wonder what you two looked like, from an outsider’s perspective. Two lovers perhaps, intertwined with each other. Would this be a sweet moment of affection between a couple? A lovely little scene? Maybe if you pretended it was, things would be easier for you, as a captive.

If you tried hard enough, you could even forget the fact that Malleus was the one who summoned the blizzard in the first place.

[ceruleancattail]

A Red Heart

Mystic Au

Ruggie x reader

Tw: yandere, gore. Lots of gore. Man’s insane but Y’know I love that so-

All you could see was red.

Spread across his lips, splattered out in a shocking mess of crimson and brown, flakes of blood peeling off like a badly-painted wall. Drops of scarlet drip off his chin, almost like a beast’s wild slobber. His shirt was scratched up, one sleeve ripped clean off, stray threads fluttering away with his every breath.

He kneeled in right before the door, fingers curved into crescents. There were claws, at the end of those fingers. Short, yet viciously sharp. You’ve seen him rip apart packets of chips and paper packaging like it was nothing. It somehow never occured to you what those claws could do to skin. They were coated with grime and blood, red and gummy under his nails.

Vaguely, you could see chunks of flesh strewn around on the ground, ripped into indescribable chunks of gore. Thrown around your floor, coated with the crimson of blood. Hesitantly, you nudge one with your finger.

Warm.

It was still fucking warm.

A chill raced down your spine, settling itself deep into its base. Ice ran rampant through your veins, freezing your bones ice cold. Your heart thumped, throwing itself against its cage of bone again and again, in a futile attempt to escape.

Rooted to the spot, you could feel the bile rise up your throat. Lapping at the back of your throat, acidity burning into the flesh of your mouth. Pressing its way into to your tongue, the vile liquid threatening to spill off your lips at any moment.

The man… no, the creature sitting kneeling right before you raised his head slowly, a wide toothy grin spreading across his lips. To your disgust, it was the same smile. The fanged, crooked grin that he smiled, eyes crinkling right alongside with it.

The same smile you’ve always found cute.

The familiar, warm smile of your Familiar.

Forcing the bile back, you manage to stutter:

“What… have you done, Ruggie?”

Ruggie tilts his head to the side, a somewhat endearing little gesture. Furry ears twitching ever so slightly, those bright cerulean eyes of his staring straight into your own.

You used to think they were beautiful. A clear blue, like the boundless vastness of the sky. Yet now, those same eyes unsettled you, with their clearness. With their calmness. No matter how hard you searched, you couldn’t even find a smidge of remorse within those irises.

“Aw, you came home earlier today, huh Master?”

Hands pushing against the ground, Ruggie leaps right back onto his feet, that sickening grin still plastered across his blood soaked lips. He takes a step closer, swaying ever so slightly. Unsteady, shivering from the excitement of a beast who’s just successfully sunk its teeth into its prey. You could just barely make out the gleam in his eyes, and the instability of it all.

“Who did you…”

your voice falters, trailing off into the silence. What word could you have used? What English word could ever describe the savageness of which Ruggie attacked his poor victim, tearing they apart with both claw and fang? How could you ever come up with a word that encompassed this dastardly act of primal rage?

You were answered with a husky laugh, before a hand lands on your shoulder. A reassuring pat from Ruggie, yet you still winced from the sheer force of his palm.

“What does it matter? They’re dead.”

Ruggie shrugs, shoulders moving up and down fluidly.

“Ain’t no point to having a name to haunt your nightmares, yeah? I know humans are screamish about stuff like this.

I tried to be considerate about ya, y’know? I can’t have my master hurling nilly willy all over the floor. But it ain’t my fault you came home early today.”

His lips twitch upwards ever so slightly, a sort of sadistic amusement leaking out of it.

“That’s on ya.”

Ruggie bends down, wiping off his hands the best he can with the cloth of his pants, before he reaches for your hand. Clutching it tightly, damn near squeezing the life out of your palm. With a sharp yank, you stumble forward. Forced to follow Ruggie’s pace, as he leads you further into the gory scene.

You stop in front of a mangled corpse, almost rendered unrecognisable by Ruggie. The fingers were all scorched, and gnawed at, removing every single fingerprint on it. Part of it had been burnt, disfigured into some monstrosity of raw, throbbing red.

Without any hesitation, Ruggie plunges his hand into the corpse’s chest, digging around for something or another. Every move he made was accompanied by a disgusting squelch, blood staining his arm like a glove.

Despite all of that, Ruggie was still smiling. Chattering on cheerfully, as he continued his search.

“I wanted this to be a surprise, but you’re already here, so might as well.”

Finally, he finished out something. Something the size of his palm, throbbing and squirming in his very hands. A heart. A fucking human heart. Ruggie cradled it softly within his bloodstained palms, the organ still trembling within his hands.

“Humans use hearts to express their love, right? Those little valentine cards, all red and lovely… I figured it’ll be much more romantic if i actually got ya’ a real one.

I put in all that extra effort just for ya, master. Aren’t you just so grateful?”

He slides the organ into your hands, gently closing his fingers around yours. Guiding you into cradling the heart tenderly, softly. Like something beautiful, precious. Like something valuable, forged out of life itself.

Forcing you to hold onto the weight of his sin,

making your hands just as stained as his was.

[ceruleancattail]

*climbs up from the pits of flaming torturous despair*

HELLO GOOD FELLOW, MAY I HUMBLY REQUEST SOME YANDERE ROOK HUNT PLEASE??? PERHAPS “A HUNT” PER SE, THAT COULD BE AN INTERESTING CONCEPT!!! AU REVOIR!!!

*sinks back down*

Cruel

Yandere Rook x reader

Tw: yandere, suffocation, mentions of vomit and gore

You could feel the grime right under your nails.

Little pieces of dirt and soil jutting deep into the tender skin of your fingertips, staining them a dark, deep earthy brown. They ached, a dull sensation that gnawed away at your very soul.

The pain sank its fangs into your palm, all those little fragments cutting deep as you clawed at the ground. Digging your hands deep into the earth, forcing yourself forward inch by inch. Crawling across the ground like some pitiable insect, ready to be trampled underfoot by some unaware foot.

In hindsight, you would have been better off that way. If only you were insignificant enough to be crushed, unnoticeable to the masses. Feeble enough to be ignored by him.

Unfortunately, you’ve managed to catch the eye of a rather skilled hunter. For all you run, you’ll never truly escape him. Rook’s rather proud of his eyesight, after all.

It’ll be a shame if the word got out about his prey escaping his grasp.

The rustling of foliage. The unmistakable crunch of dried leaves, crushed underfoot. Spitting out a curse, you ceased all movement. Rook was more than capable of moving silently through the woods.

Him making noise was a taunt, directed towards you. A smug, accursed way of announcing that the hunt was over.

He won.

Gulping back the nausea lapping at the back of your throat, you froze on the spot. Forcing your limbs to go limp, flopping pathetically onto the ground. Fighting the urge to shiver, steeling your veins.

Desperately wishing for your heart to slow, that deafening pounding drowning out every coherent thought in your mind. All there were was grabbled instincts howling away, demanding to be heard.

“I’m scared.” “It hurts.” “Get me out of here.”

“Oh, ma beauté! Just how wonderful you look!”

At the sound of that ever so familiar chirp, all you thought of was:

“Run.”

It took all your willpower not to scramble onto your feet in a last-ditch attempt to flee the scene. Instead, your teeth sunk deep into the flesh of your lips, letting a sickeningly sweet metallic taste drip onto your tongue.

Stay. Still.

“You gave me quite the chase for that one! I was almost afraid I lost you for good, ma cherie.”

His voice was coated with concern, every single letter dripping into your ears with a hiss. Rook’s voice was acidic, corroding every crevice of your ears. For all the wonderful pet names he comes up with for you, that’s all they are.

Empty, meaningless names for a mere pet. A creature to care for, a creature to control.

Even without looking up, you could picture Rook’s patronising smirk with crystal clarity in your mind. The way it leans onto the side, twitching with amusement… it made you sick.

You could feel the leather of his gloves on your skin, trailing upwards the length of your body. Two fingers slipped right beside your throat, pressing gingerly against its side. Measuring your pulse.

Rook taps lightly against your neck, humming to himself softly.

“You’re still breathing, mon bien-aimé. Why do you not speak?”

A weight pressed against the nape of your neck, his fingers digging a little more firmly into the flesh of your throat, pressing onto it with just a little more force. Not enough to totally cut off your breathing, but enough to make your lungs burn, collapsing into themselves. Your breaths grow so much more frantic, so much more desperate as you pant, desperate for air.

Your fingers reach for his own, clawing at them like some feral beast. Yet even with all your strength, the most you could do was to blindly bat at his hands. Your vision blurred, your surroundings swarmed by black splotchy dots, determined to mare your vision.

Something warm flowed from your lips, the putrid smell flooding your nostrils. Your own spittle, mixing with the heavy, stiffening stench of freshly upturned dirt.

In the midst of all your suffering, you could vaguely hear Rook’s chuckle. Light and airy, as if you two were having a casual chat at some cafe instead of him strangling you.

“How does that feel, chérie? It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Rook doesn’t even bother waiting for you to answer, before he continues.

“That’s how I feel, when you ignore me like that. It hurts, so very much. Like a someone has driven a stake into my heart, and left the rust to fester.

Don’t you think that’s so cruel?”

Laughing to himself, Rook finally loosens his hold. Leaving you to collapse onto the ground, chest heaving heavily. Your lungs scramble, gathering up as much air as your windpipe would allow, to replace all the oxygen squeezed out by Rook’s own two cruel hands.

“Ah, you’re lucky you’ve enchanted me, darling. I do spoil you terribly much.”

Taking a knee, Rook lowers himself to your eye level. Raising his hand towards his lips, teeth gingerly biting down on the very edge of his glove. A pause, before he pulls it off in one fluid motion.

His bare hand reaches for your chin, tilting it upwards as gently as he could.

“Now, what do we say when someone’s nice to you?”

His nails dig into your flesh. A silent warning.

Speak.

Choking back a sob, you stutter:

“T… thank you. Thank you… Rook.”

Upon hearing you speak, Rook beams.

“There we go, Ma Cherie! See, was that so hard?”

You shake your head slowly, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. If Rook notices, he doesn’t let on. He chatters away about how hard the chase was this time, and how lucky you were to have someone like him as a boyfriend. There are hardly any noble souls left in this world that appreciate a good hunt.

He clutches at your hands, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours. Your dirt-covered hands, throbbing a raw red. Rook speaks, muttering in a feverish, almost frantic tone.

“You and I? We were made for each other.

So by all means, mon bien-aimé. Run. Run as far as you can.

I’ll always find you.”

[ceruleancattail]

despite being the number one riddle kisser I didn't actually take his hand Ithought about it for a long time but now my poor eepys been forgotten by my love for rids. riddle getting upset I choose epel or epel knowing I choose him just to leave him for riddle sounds really tastey.....mmmm horror...♡♡♡

Sentience presents:

Doll

Self-Aware Epel x reader

Tw: Yandere, mentions of blood and gore, Epel beats up people but is weirdly happy about it.

There was something deliciously satisfying about being chosen. Being wanted, by another. Epel knows that emotion especially well. After all, it was you who chose him, after all.

He remembers every detail.

The way the very tips of your fingers brush against his, intertwining, joining as one. The way the curve of your palm slotting ever so perfectly against his, your pulse thumping into his skin.

Your warmth pulsing into him, filling him with life.

You gave him a purpose, in this desolate stage of fools. Every day, Epel would wrestle with the others for a chance to greet you at Ramshackle’s door. An angelic face beaming at you, with knuckles bruised a patchwork of crimson and purple.

Epel never seemed too concerned about hiding his wounds. He opted instead to see them as badges of honour. The romanticised scars of a warrior fighting for his beloved.

It’s not like he could hide it, anyways. No matter how hard Epel scrubbed at his hands, that stench never seemed to leave. The metallic stench of blood clung to his hands, as if it was staining him. Marking him. Not that he minded.

After all, it’s for you.

It’s all for you.

So why are you with him?

Laughing with Riddle Rosehearts, giving him those bashful little smiles. Expressions that even Epel was never privy to. You cling onto Rosehearts all so sweetly, joy dancing merrily on your lips. There’s a skip in your step now, whenever you wander off to Heartsabyul on an “errand”.

Epel can’t help but notice the pink blooming on your cheeks whenever you see a certain rose-haired student. The way you gush all over Riddle whenever he greets you at the doorstep. All Epel can do is seethe in the corner, teeth gritting tight. Pressing down hard, until his jaw aches, the sourness of blood seeping onto his tongue.

You chose him.

Stretched out your arm for Epel, clutching his hand. He was the one who pulled you through the mirror. The one who let you into this world.

Now, you’re disposed of him.

As if he was a just a mere doll, toyed with by your loving hands. Yanked around by the strings pulled by your hand, led to believe that you truly loved him. He had fought for you, bleed for you, thrown himself into the heat of battle just to see you smile-

Trembling, those fingers of his unconsciously rolled into a fist. Nails digging in deep the flesh of his palm, scarlet crescents forming on it. Epel clenches his jaw, before casting one last determined look at the crumbling walls of Ramshackle dorm.

If ya’ so fond of red, he’ll give ya’ a show.

Epel will dye this entire shitty world crimson with his own two fists.

[ceruleancattail]

I have thoughts about Nightfall Au Jade. Thoughts.

Tw: yandere, descriptions of torture

Him leaning against the floor, slender fingers setting up his rifle. Deft, quick movements, as his fingers curl around the trigger. He’s peering through the scope, carefully aligning the cross with his target.

It’s not the first time Jade’s sniped someone. Azul often has him on “jobs” to… silence people, without a fuss. Intimidation was a job better left to Floyd, who seems to delight in chasing down his prey.

Jade prefers to end things in one quick bite. A single, decisive blow. Of course, unless he has a personal agenda…

The guy trapped in his basement was still alive. Barely. Forced to breath from tubes of plastic, shoved hazardously into his skin. Body covered in scars, the pale glimmer of salt rubbed into each and every one. They shimmer slightly, red and sore, blood pulsing out in tiny beads of crimson. The putrid stench of ammonia hangs heavy in the air, the scent of a frightened animal.

He was one of the hooligans who found pleasure in wrecking your cafe after hours. Just one of the many troublemakers lurking around the Lantern. Jade took the initiative and took care of him, just for you.

Honestly, you should be grateful.

Yet you still regard him with a sense of suspicion. Glaring at him ever so coldly, whenever he patronises the Lantern. How it stings, sweetheart. You wound him, truly.

Part of him would love to show you what he does in your name. Would it disgust you? The amount of blood he spills in those sadistic games of his. Will you flinch when he calls your name? Holding a knife under your chin, gently gliding the blade up. Tracing the curve of your jawline, guiding your gaze upwards.

Upwards to his own.

Maybe there would be a steely gleam in your eyes. Defiance, a disgust to these antics of Jade’s. The very model of a dear, good citizen.

Or would there be a spark? A little light in your eyes, a sadistic gleam? Maybe you’ll even thank him for keeping out the riff-raff.

Would you kiss him out of gratitude? Jade hopes so.

Lost in his thoughts, Jade hums a melody. A little tune you always seem to whistle while waiting for the coffee to brew. He memorised it.

How could he not? Any note sounds exquisite from your lips.

Slowly, the cross inches towards your head. Jade leans to the right ever so slightly, making sure that he got just the right angle for a wonderful view of you.

Bobbing up and down, taking the order of a customer. Your lips curved into a small smile, a gentle expression.

How sweet.

Perhaps one day, you’ll smile like that for him, and him alone. One day.

For now, he’ll simply amuse himself with that stern grimace of yours. Jade will drop by later.

Do keep a cup warm for him, darling.

[ceruleancattail]

a coffin unlocks and cater's breath hitches. something in his soul stirs at the appearance of an unknown soul, a soul that didn't belong in their world, in the coffin. purple and black hair made his eyes water with happiness. at last, he had found her! the woman haunting his dreams, the woman of his dreams, the woman he would die and kill for-

his breath hitches again, but this time accompanied by the fisting of his hands. his dorm leader, the stern and strict riddle rosehearts, seemed to be the one she holds dear in her heart, judging by the way her eyes flutter.

no, no, no! this can't be!

she had held his hand! she had chosen him! not the stupid, idiotic dorm leader!

she would be his-

"cater?" trey's concerned voice breaks cater out of his stupor. "are you alright?"

emerald eyes glue themselve onto riddle. they painted an invisible mark on his back. a new target.

melody striker would be his.

"i'm fine, trey!! don't worry!" cater grin at his friend. "everything will be alright! soon..."

OMG HEY CERU!!! CONGRATS ON 200 FICS!!! here is my mini drabble and submission for your latest event! seeing your event honestly makes me want to go back to writing yandere again hehe

may i request cater x my twst oc, melody striker? in this case, melody was supposed to take cater's hand in the beginning, only to switch to riddle last minute. can you make cater incredibly jealous and angry, seeing melody and riddle bond all the time in nrc? thank you!!

don't forget to rest and stay hydrated!!!

hugs and kisses, siren xoxo

Hi hi Siren! I’m not writing for Original Characters for this event, so I hope you don’t mind I turned this into an x reader instead!

I’m so sorry, I forgot to specify this in the event post.

I loved your Drabble!!! The actual chills, nice. If you do write something yandere, I’m going to devour it FR fr 🫶

Sentience presents:

Remember

Self Aware Cater x reader

Tw:Yandere

There’s an itch in Cater’s fingers.

Burying itself deep within his skin,sinking its fangs into every inch of skin it could reach. It spreads with every second, never content where it was. The itch was always there, an irrational irritation that seemed determined to gnaw away at his sanity.

Cater tries his best to shove that prickling feeling to the back of his mind. Pursing his lips, forcing a cheerful smile onto his face. He’s learnt to do that well. Concealing every single thing behind a jovial grin, bobbing his head along like a little bobble-head toy.

Although Cater does feel that mask slips ever so slightly when he see you.

Hell, you’ve ripped it off entirely the day you fell through that great old mirror. Reaching out for him, voice ever so earnestly calling out his name. It’s been awhile since Cater saw a face so honest, eyes shining with surprise and… happiness.

As if you saw him as who he was. Behind all the facades, behind all the filters and likes. You saw him as Cater Diamond, and you still wanted him.

For the first time in awhile, Cater’s smile was genuine. He leapt up, grabbing your hand in one fluid motion. Yanking you through those murky depths, laughing wildly all the time.

The curves of both of your hands slid right next to each other, clicking into place like two pieces of a jigsaw. He could feel your pulse, a flustered little beat against his. Adorable, truly.

Cater could listen to your heart beat for hours and never get bored. How could he? With the way it skipped and leapt under his touch, a delicate melody of you. Cater knows every beat by heart, even though it’s been awhile since he had the pleasure of hearing it.

Your hands reach for another, now. Fingers running through locks of scarlet, mirroring the red blooming onto both of your cheeks. You’ve opted to spend a little more time with the Heartsabyul Housewarden nowadays.

Cater sees both of you whenever he returns to the dorms.

He sees it all.

The way you two brush shoulders, your head leaning into the crook of Riddle’s neck. The flustered apologies, followed the embarrassed laughs, a rosy pink spreading onto both of your faces. The gentle intertwining of fingers, little kisses shared underneath the rose bushes. The way you smile at Riddle… it was new, for Cater.

The itch gets worse those days. Raw, red and pulsing. Just like his heart, throbbing madly within his chest. A wild beast, driven mad with outrage. It’s all he can do to stay silent, forcing himself still.

Even then, the envy claws at his mind. It’s unbearable, consuming his every waking thought. The itch just grows worse, the more he sees you with Riddle. Sometimes, he gives in to it. Scratching at his arms until they’re red and raw. Just like his heart beating in his chest. Beating just for you.

It’s a bit unfair for you to lavish such time and attention on someone else, isn’t it? After all, you chose him first.

You’re his, as much as he is yours.

Cater supposes it’s time to make you remember that.

[ceruleancattail]

Protection

Guardian Angel Jack x reader

Tw: yandere, gore, possessive behaviour

Guardian Angel Jack who goes out of his mind with worry whenever you’re not around. He damn near plasters himself to your side when you’re home, tail wagging away. He’ll deny his clinginess at all costs, face flushed with red as he stammers out half-baked excuses of why he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy. Oh, this needs cleaning. Oh, this needs fixing, it’s not like he wants to be with you or anything-

Even as he says that, when you leave the room, you’ll hear Jack’s footsteps following as well. It’s almost cute, the way his ears droop ever so slightly when he stands by the door, waiting to be let in.

It’s almost cute just how attached he is, to you.

Almost.

It would have been cute if Jack wasn’t so protective all the time. Slinging an arm around your shoulders whenever you two go out, giving anyone who comes too close a snarl, a growl rumbling out from the depths of his gut. He holds you whenever you’re chatting with someone you know, arms wrapped around your torso. You could feel his muscles stiffening, hunched shoulders ready to strike whenever and wherever.

As if an acquaintance you bumped into at the crosswalk was ever going to do anything to you.

You do talk to Jack about it. He’s unbelievably apologetic, those furry ears perched on the top of his head dropping downwards, his tail tucked in between his legs. He’s sorry, but you have to understand that Jack is… was your guardian angel. He saw horrors every single day on the job. Jack knows how easily a mere human’s life can be stomped out, just like that. You can’t blame him for being a little overprotective, right?

He’s doing it to protect you.

He’s doing it all for you.

That’s the mantra Jack chants every time he bares his fangs at people who come too close. Every time his grip squashes your hand, bruising every inch he could reach. That’s what he says when he hides your keys, keeping you confined within the safety of your home, because he had a “bad feeling” about that day.

It’s what he says, when you come back to the floor splattered with crimson red, a figure sprawled over the couch, body mangled beyond the point of recognition. Jack’s standing in the middle of the room, both of his hands clenched into fists, knuckles bloodied and bruised.

He’s doing it to protect you.

He’s doing it all for you.

Jack slowly moves towards you, hands outstretched in what you suppose would be a disarming gesture, yet all you felt was a cold sense of dread. The hands of a monster, reaching towards you. Embracing you, stroking your hair. Leaving trails of blood streaking down your scalp, the metallic stench heavy in your nostrils.

Jack’s holding you tenderly, warmly against his chest. Close enough for you to feel the rapid pace of his heart, bursting from the exertion from the fight.

It was almost cute, really, how Jack seemed ever so determined to protect you. How Jack was willing to go off the deep end, if he managed to convince yourself that you somehow needed it. If you somehow needed him.

Almost.

However at this point, you’re fully convinced that the only thing you needed protection from was Jack himself.