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sophiethewitch1 · 3 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 4 - Nightmares Too

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“You wanna get out from under there?”

What sort of question is that? Of course, you don’t. You’re going to live here now. You’re never leaving this tiny, cramped space till you rot away and die. The stained underside of some IKEA desk was your new home.

Well, since your actual home was seeming less and less like an option. Which kinda sucks, because you’re feeling surprisingly possessive of your stuff. You don’t want fancy dresses or bubbly champagne, you want your ratty couch and the neighbour’s cat that liked to visit in the middle of the night. Your mother was right, you were the type of person to never be happy no matter what. You could appreciate the food, though.

Shaking, trembling, knees clutched to your chest, you look up. Slowly, because you’ll probably piss yourself if you don’t.

Now that you weren’t holding his hand, the vigilante known as Red Hood was much, much scarier. He was sitting on the carpeted floor with you, but he still somehow looked incredibly menacing. You preferred his old look, honestly. The helmet had less ‘grim reaper’ vibes. The hood and metal face mask made him seem like a cyborg assassin, or something equally terrifying. He was terrifying.

Still, you could appreciate the insane sort of hilarity of this situation. The notorious crime fighter and crime committer was sitting here with you, crossed legs, twiddling his thumbs away. You press your face into your hands, laugh, and then scream. The sound is muffled, but he probably still hears the exciting new phase of your breakdown.

“Don’t…” your voice cuts off, you have to think before you can manage to speak again, “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

His giant shoulders shrug.

“I’ve got time.”

Did he? You don’t know how long you’d been up here, how long you’d been sitting here either. You’d fallen asleep, despite your desperate fight not to, so it could be anywhere between 10 to the next day. Had you missed midnight? God, you hoped not.

That stupid little ritual is what convinces you to leave. Not common sense, not the Hood, not your desperate desire to get home and sleep. No, it’s the image of your mother’s tired smile, the city in the background as you wish her another happy birthday after a long day of work. It’s a memory you’re not willing to give up, even if you technically already made your wish.

You’d lived this awful day twice. You got to blow out your candles twice, too.

Slowly, surely, you climb out from under the desk. Red Hood is quiet, careful. He doesn’t move apart from a subtle shift in his hood, suggesting he’s watching you. He’s acting like you’re a wild animal or something, like he might scare you off, or might prompt you to attack.

If he tries anything, you will. It doesn’t matter that he could snap your neck like a twig. Maybe he’s right to act that way, you’re feeling pretty feral right now. Half giving him your back, you turn the monitor for the computer on. It’s Wayne property, so you think you technically have some right to it. It’s not like you’re going to hack it or anything, you just need it to-

11:48.

“Thank god,” you sigh, relieved. Still, you’re not out of the woods yet. You needed at least a lighter, hopefully, a candle and a desert of some kind too. There were lots of cakes downstairs, if you felt you could do it. Big ‘if’ there. The mental breakdown was still well underway. And not everyone could dodge a punch like Red Hood could. Knowing you, you’d probably get sued for millions if you accidentally snapped at some poor rando.

Let’s start small. You wrench open the office’s drawer and start rooting around. You find lots of things, a Wayne Enterprises-themed stress toy, a kid’s drawing of them and their parent holding hands, and a surprising amount of hand cream, but no lighter. You slam the drawer closed and move to the next one.

“Hey, what are you doing?” his voice rumbles out, and your head snaps around.

You look down. Right. This is probably illegal. You were rooting through someone else’s private property. Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it was definitely the first time you’d done it in plain view of a vigilante.

Crap. You hadn’t thought. That was your entire night, summarised.

“Uh, this is… Do you have a lighter?” you ask, wincing. You don’t really like the mask he’s wearing. Apart from being so intimidating, you’re shaking like a wet chihuahua, it’s also impossible to tell what he’s thinking through it. The domino mask, the metal face mask and the voice changer completely hid any emotion. Full coverage and all.

The helmet probably would’ve made that even harder. You’d still prefer it. This guy's creepy.

“You smoke?” he responds, slowly but surely getting to his feet. You back up quickly, pressing yourself to the wall of the cubicle. Red Hood pauses and then moves even slower. He’s careful not to frighten you any more than already.

This was all really strange. One of the strangest things that had ever happened to you. And you might’ve woken up this morning in an alternate dimension. Or something, you had zero clue what was going on. God, you really wished you’d paid more attention in science class. You’d thought Mr Gregory was crazy, but he’d gotten the last laugh.

“I don’t,” you clench your sweaty fists tight, “Maybe I should.”

“Don’t get started, it’s impossible to stop,” Red Hood says, digging into his pocket for something. You freeze, but relax again when he hands you a scuffed metal lighter.

Holding it close to your chest, you whisper a thank you to him. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

This was really weird. You couldn’t say it enough.

“I hate you,” you state because you sort of have to. Even when he’s being nice to you, helping you. It’s an obligation. You have to make sure that despite the show of good faith he was offering, you were certainly feeling no such thing.

“I figured,” he replies, which like- What the fuck? Does this make absolutely zero sense to anybody else? You’re not sure what about your panic-stricken tears and desperate hand-holding made you seem hateful, but you could work with it.

Maybe all the feelings you push down are starting to show. You ignore how worried that makes you because you’ve had enough for today. Today was more than e-fucking-nough.

You were going to find a cake and a candle, and you were going to make your wish. Again, because life sucks. You were going to finish this horrible day again because life sucks. And hopefully, you’d wake up tomorrow… tomorrow, not today.

You weren’t sure if you would. Life sucks, right?

You look the Red Hood in his creepy glowing red eyes and say, “I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

There’s quiet between you two for a moment. You think he’s staring at you, trying to figure you out. He knows you hate him, but you’re… well, you’re too tired to be angry right now. You just want to go to sleep. You just want this damn day to end. Tomorrow you’d go back to hating all the vigilantes of Gotham with a fiery passion, but today…

Well, you wouldn’t call it peaceful, whatever this situation is. Maybe it’s understanding. He seems understanding, for some reason. You don’t really want to think about that.

You just wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. Then you didn’t have to hate yourself so much.

“I’m going to go find some cake and a candle. It’s my birthday and I haven’t made a wish.”

Red Hood nods, “I could eat.”

That wasn’t an invitation, but whatever. Guess you’re blowing out your candles for your twenty-first with… this guy. Better than yesterday, which was with nobody but yourself and your trashy TV. Or, well, the first today.

You really think you are losing your mind. Whatever, whatever, let’s worry about it later.

After one of the most awkward and uncomfortable elevator rides of your life, squished into a corner as Red Hood took up the lion’s share of space, you find yourself back on the first floor. It’s chaos. The gorgeously decorated gala is now in rubble, and people are rushing around with the sort of fear you’d expect after the fucking Joker showed up.

He wasn’t here, which was good. It was important to focus on the good.

First responders flit around the space, checking the people who seem worse for wear and the rich bastards who think they’re more important than the service workers who are cut or bruised. All the food tables have been knocked over, the waste of it making you upset. Of course the Joker wastes food, he’s gotta be the evilest man on earth or something. It’s not just the interior that’s been destroyed, either. The giant gothic windows have been shattered inward, and broken glass covers the entire floor space. Red and blue lights flash through the gaping holes, bits of glass still attached to the stone sending it cascading across the walls.

You look down. You’re missing your shoes.

“You can’t walk on that,” Big Red says, which like, duh.

“I know that,” you mutter, looking around for another way. Ah, good, there’s a staff entrance over there, which you think probably leads to the kitchen-

“I could carry you.”

You give him a disturbed look and he shrugs. Pointing to the ‘staff only’ door, you wish you had the strength to tell the guy to fuck off. He feels like a babysitter or something.

“I’m going in there.” ‘Please don’t follow me.’

He follows you, because of course, he does.

Lucky for you, the staff entrance leads straight to the kitchen. Even luckier, there’s absolutely nobody here to witness you lose your mind. There are also lots of dishes waiting to be served, already plated and perfect. This is a professional kitchen, but it was your birthday so you have to assume they’d have had candles or a cake prepared.

You walk through the giant kitchen, and Red Hood hangs back. He leans against the doorway, crossing his tree-tunk-esque arms and glowering. Nowhere can do a scary hero like Gotham can. He was really messing with your vibe, which wasn’t all that great in the first place.

Your eyes rove over the platters, head snapping back when you spot a tiny set of confectionaries at the back. Cupcakes, three in total. They don’t match the rest of the other high-quality foods, but you know they’re the ones you want anyway. You hope this didn’t belong to someone else, and promise to pay them back… somehow. You’d write a note or something, leave your number behind.

You were rich now. You’d have preferred the lottery instead of all this. What’s the saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’ You’d certainly been begging.

It’s a struggle to reach the back of the counter without knocking any of the other food. You grab the plate, lift it up and over, and then set it back down on an empty stretch of countertop.

You look over the three cupcakes, trying to pick one. There’s one that’s a dark raspberry pink. A pink that’s a little too dark, actually. Almost… reddish. You glance over your shoulder at the devil lurking behind you, wince, and decide you’re going for the blue cupcake. You think this might’ve also been one of Sam’s favourite colours. It would’ve been at some point, at least.

Now, candles. This might be the hard part, but it’s the most important one. Again you start rooting through some stranger’s property, and Red Hood just watches silently. It’s weird. This whole situation is weird. You’re tired and confused and you’re half convinced you’re dreaming it all, but… but you’re definitely starting to think this might be real.

And that’s fucking scary. So, back to candle hunting. They had to have some, it was your birthday. Maybe, you were pretty sure. Somehow the worst day of the year had happened twice because God knows you had some shit luck. You’d really like some solid answers, instead of just ‘maybe!’. And for some reason, you really didn’t think you’d be getting them anytime soon.

Ah, shoot. You found your candle. It’s one of those giant ‘Happy Birthday’ cake toppers, all loopy and connected words. Your cupcake is way too small, and your candle is way too big. Well, you’re nothing if not resourceful. When you bend the candle, the wax snaps easily under your grip. You’re left with a capital ‘H’ and under that the ‘B’ and little ‘i’ and ‘r’ from the beginning of birthday. Good enough, you suppose.

You stick the crumbly, glittery monstrosity on top of the stolen cupcake, and swipe the lighter again. The letters sag to the side, and you nudge them back into balance.

You glance down at the ovens, reading the bright neon numbers. 11:57.

You wait, flicking the lighter open and closed. The metallic click, the rhythm of the movement, it settles you a bit.

“Why are you waiting?” Red Hood pipes up, breaking that comfortable silence. At least he doesn’t come any closer, still lingering half in the room, half not.

“It has to be midnight,” you answer, wishing him away. This is your thing. You didn’t want anybody here for it, didn’t want anybody else’s presence tainting this piece of your mother’s memory. You were greedy for it, not eager to share.

You were sharing today. There’s a part of you that wants to scream and rant at the man who for some unknown reason simply will not leave, but you imagine your mother’s frowning face, and you can’t do it. She’s the angel on your shoulder (nagging, nagging, nagging) compared to your usual devil-inclined self. She was always insisting you needed to be a better host, be nicer to people. Maybe make more friends. And after she’d gone, you’d tried, you really, really had.

But Red Hood was an altogether different matter. Everything they were, everything they represented, was an altogether different matter.

You were obsessed with the Waynes. And in a different, more bitter, spiteful, malicious way, you were obsessed with the Bats, too.

You weren’t going to be friends with Red Hood. You hated him, despised him. Mum always said you needed to get better at forgiving people. You disagreed, but just… maybe just for today, you wouldn’t make him leave.

You could glare at him, though. You felt that was fair enough. He ignores your narrowed eyes like a seasoned professional. Bet he’s had a lot of people hate him. Bet he deserves it.

“It’s 11:59,” he tells you, and you stop glaring at him to light the candle.

The light is weak, barely able to touch you. Still, it’s strong enough to get rid of those tiny glimpses of red and blue police lights, to keep away the darkness for just long enough. You sigh into the light, absorbing it into yourself. You’d always thought the world was too dark, and you hated winter when you’d lose the sun. So like you had to hate the dark, you had to love this light. This tiny little candle, burning away.

“What’re you gonna wish for?”

You stare at the flickering flame. It twitches back and forth. Casts light into the kitchen. Mesmerises you. It’s barely alive, and you’re about to put it out before it can even start. It could’ve been some great fire, some city-destroying blaze. And you’re going to kill it. Kill it before it can kill you, can kill everyone here. Kill it before it could have ever hoped to live, to thrive.

Just a baby. Just a little, little baby.

It doesn’t deserve it. That never seems to matter. It never mattered before.

“The Joker to die.”

You exhale, blowing the light out and sending the kitchen into darkness. When you manage to find the light switch and turn it on, the room is empty. It’s just you, your cake, and your tears. Your hands clench, and then you realise you’re still holding it.

You still have the Red Hood’s lighter. He left without it.

Well, finder’s keepers, right?

You’re shaking in the back of the ambulance, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders not enough to keep out the Gotham night’s chill. You don’t really remember how you got here, to be honest. Everything’s pretty goddamn blurry. You were talking to a vigilante, a red one. Not down here, staring up at the Wayne Tower. You remember his face in the shifting candlelight. Did you blow out your candles with him? That was a fucking crazy thought.

And now the Bruce Wayne has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember when he arrived. He’s talking with the paramedic, chatting over the top of your head. There words are going in one ear and out the other, it’s alien for as much as you can understand. You want to shake his hand off, you don’t want anyone touching you right now. Especially not a stranger.

Even if it was a guy you had owned a fan Twitter for. Those were the darkest days of your past. Even more so than the time you’d totally thought about jumping in front of the Gotham subway. You’d only not done it because you’d have felt bad for wasting other commuters' time. What were you doing? Ah, right.

In the end, you don’t shove him off, because you don’t know if you can move other than blink. Even that’s against your will. Your eyelashes are fluttering randomly, eyes flicking around the interior of the ambulance. You’re barely conscious. And you doubt you’ll remember any of this later, either. You can feel the memories slipping away, the drain at the back of your mind sucking up the fear and bad thoughts and leaving you blank and empty. Numb, safe, but numb.

The paramedic’s mouth moves. You don’t think she’s talking to you, which is good. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. She does some final checks, and then she’s off to the next person.

The two of you are left to silence, to watch the rest of the world in its chaos. You feel like there’s a barrier, a pane of glass, between you and the other people here. Like your TV screen, really. The paramedic goes to a woman and her son. The woman seems fine, but the son has a long gash on his arm. She’s screaming, he’s crying, and the paramedic is handling it all with calm professionalism. You wanted to start screaming too.

You glance at a man in a suit yelling at another first responder, spittle flying into the air with his rage. You think he’s one of the ones you saw earlier in the ballroom. His suit is still perfect, and he doesn’t have a speck of blood on him. Even his hair is still perfectly brushed and coiled.

You looked like a drowned rat in comparison.

“…Are you alright?” The question breaks the silence, and you slowly turn to look up at Bruce.

Well, that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. You thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just feeling bad because of the new trauma he’s gifted you tonight? It wasn’t his fault. As most of your mental health issues stemmed from, it was the Joker’s fault.

“No,” you answer, and he nods stiffly. Great chat.

He huffs out a sound of frustration, lifting the hand on your shoulder. Immediately, some of the tension in you seeps out. You hope he doesn’t notice. You think he probably does.

Someone calls out your name. Your head turns to the crowd. They call out your name again, this time closer, and you call back. You’re sort of surprised when a crying Jeanine pushes out of the throng of people. She’s a mess, her hair out of her pristine bun, her suit missing its jacket, and her glasses cracked. Seems she didn’t have a very nice time either.

You look down. She’s also missing her shoes. It’d be kind of gross, walking around on Gotham’s streets barefoot, if you could manage to give a shit. You’re still restarting, however, and all energy is going towards not crying again. You’re failing. Awfully bad, at that.

Whatever. Gotta try.

Panting, Jeanine places her hands on her knees, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It takes a moment for you to load the words through your Windows XP brain, but when you do, you’re more confused than you were a second ago.

“What? Why are you sorry?” you say, for a second imagining Jeanine as one of the people that attacked you.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… hadn’t forced you to come…” Jeanine’s voice trails off, a look of horror on her face. Ah, she’s noticed Bruce. Apparently, she’s quite afraid of the man. You feel a sense of camaraderie towards the woman. God knows how many times you’d worn the exact same expression talking to one of your own bosses.

And then, well, then you usually got fired. It’s not looking good for her.

“Mister Wayne! I didn’t see you there, apologies!” she says, straightening her shoulders.

“Jeanine, it’s good to see you. Are you well, have you checked with the paramedics yet?”

“I have, Sir. Thank you for worrying about me,” Jeanine answers, with a healthy dose of hero-worship in her voice. You can’t judge, you’d be staring all starry-eyed at Bruce if you weren’t falling asleep where you sat. Apparently, traumatic experiences make you sleep. Who would’ve thought?

Like you hadn’t experienced this scenario a thousand times before. First time with fucking Bruce Wayne standing right next to you, though.

“Of course, I would. You’re one of my people,” he says, giving her a warm smile. Jeanine physically sags with relief at his words, because it sounds like she’s probably not getting fired tonight.

Bruce gets a notification on his phone, hums, and then slides it back into his pant pocket.

“Jeanine, we’re going back together to the manor tonight,” Bruce continues. Also, you were? Nobody mentioned that to you, and certainly nobody asked you about it. Well, fuck what you want, right? Who cares if you desperately want your cramped apartment in the Narrows, you’re getting shipped off to the fucking Wayne Manor of all places.

You just go along with it. Just go along with it. Wayne Manor probably has lots of nice, plush beds, and you’d kill for a pillow and some ambient rain sounds right now.

Bruce looks off to the side, where Tim is on the phone. They make eye contact, Bruce nods, and then turns back to the two of you.

“I’ll be right back. You two stay here, do not go anywhere,” he commands, king of the castle.

There’s quiet between the two of you. Jeanine squirms under your gaze, obviously guilty. You think back over her words, and then you groan.

“Jeanine. Jeanine, did I not have to go to this fucking party?”

Jeanine is quiet. She’s too fucking quiet.

“Jeanine?” your voice is shaky, and you have to bite the inside of your lip to force yourself not to tear up again. It was getting kind of embarrassing, honestly. You did not cry this much. Usually. This was not a usual day, of course. You’d been Ground Hog Day-ed into another reality… you think.

“No, Ma’am, you didn’t need to go. You’re… you used to be a Wayne, and even if you’ve parted from the name, you still have the power that comes with that. You did not have to come tonight,” she says, sounding remorseful and afraid. And maybe she should be.

If you had as much power as she said, you could probably fire her. You press your hands into your face.

“I thought you said you’d quit if I didn’t go,” you grind out, digging your fingers into your eyes, clawing into your already ruined makeup.

“I was lying, Ma’am. As I always do. I’m sorry,” she apologises. None of this makes any sense, and neither does she. Why would she lie? Why is this normal? What is the new normal, and how are you supposed to hide if you don’t know how to blend in?

You realise that you’re falling into old habits instinctively. That maybe you should say something about all this, or at least that you have some weird form of amnesia. You don’t, though. You’re scared, you’re far too scared.

“Well how- I thought you were serious this time!” you cry out, stuttering over your own lies, flinging your hands from your face. Jeanine winces at you. It’s probably the dried mascara running down your face in black rivulets, making you look like an odd mix between a raccoon and a banshee.

You’d seen your reflection in the ambulance’s side mirror. It had almost been as scary as the Joker’s goons. Almost.

“…Please, please don’t fire me,” she begs, her hands clasped tight in front of her.

You realise you probably should for an admittance like that. This was too complicated, this woman and her non-existent relationship with you was far too complicated. You also realise that whoever ran this stupid body before was very used to Jeanine’s baseless threats, and it wouldn’t be at all fair to her. And she seems quite desperate for this job. Which really doesn’t make much sense, because she seems quite important, and she’s working for you, someone else who seems quite important.

God if you fucking knew. You were quickly discovering you didn’t know shit.

“I won’t, just… just don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? I’m…” you sigh, uncertain what to do, what to say, “I’m having a hard time.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so, so much. I’ll pay you back, I won’t do it again, I’ll do whatever you ask me to-”

“That’s enough, please. I just… I’d like some quiet,” you cut her off, closing your eyes and shuffling back in the ambulance. You cut yourself off from the rest of the world, hide your head behind your knees, and try to ignore the flashing lights and yelling voices. The ambulance shifts weight slightly as Jeanine sits beside you. She’s not too close to feel uncomfortable, just toeing the line.

Bruce comes back, looking over the two of you. He seems sombre, but you’re not sure why. Is it the entire night? Did something bad happen again? Is it just how miserable the two of you look? You don’t care enough to ask.

You just don’t care.

You tune out of their conversation again, even knowing it might be important. When Jeanine leaves, and Bruce invites you to a black car, you follow silently. He opens the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him in.

He knocks on the panel separating the two of you from whoever’s driving the car, and like a well-oiled machine, the car pulls out of the traffic and the paparazzi and out onto the street. Must be nice. You bet Jeanine is going to have to walk home.

Ah, wait, you’re one of them now. You’re one of those ‘must be nice’ types. Weird. You kept forgetting, somehow. Even with Gotham’s prince sitting next to you. Weird.

“I want you to stay at the manor for the night,” Bruce says, and you nod, barely listening. You’re barely conscious, far too tired to understand the implications of the words he was saying. If there were any, like you said, you couldn’t tell.

You’re watching the city go by, the light streaming past in a blur of colours. You rest your head in your hand, your elbow on the armrest. Even with you pressing your face to the glass, you can’t see the sky. The buildings stretch too high. And even if you could, it wasn’t like you’d see anything aside from some late-night flights. The Gotham light pollution and the smoke-filled sky would see to that.

Bruce doesn’t say anything else after that. You’re grateful for the quiet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and maybe in some act of self-harm, try to remember what happened tonight. Try to pick through your thoughts, and understand whatever happened. That man… that horrible man. He disappeared into thin air. Gone, just gone.

And your world had changed. You’d gotten richer, more powerful. And yet, and yet… you knew this feeling. You knew this weakness. You knew what it meant when you looked in the mirror and you saw something barely alive.

You knew what grief looked like.

You want to rip out your own hair and chew off your own skin. It didn’t make any sense, and you felt crazier and crazier by the second. And none of it made sense, and yet, you had the worst feeling. An omen, a dark cloud. Something worse than the Joker, something that made even less sense.

Even in this life, were you alone? That wasn’t fair. That didn’t make any sense. That didn’t make any sense at all.

Your voice is quiet in the car. Her voice is quiet in the car.

“Do you know where my Mum is?” a little girl asks the big, strong man, her tiny body dwarfed by the black leather of the car. She’s out of place, out of time. She doesn’t fit here.

She doesn’t think she ever has.

The big, strong man, the hero, stays silent, his face hidden by the darkness. The little girl sobs, cries, wails. She wants her mum back. She wants her family back. And now, she wants her life back.

All have been stolen from her.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were dead. Maybe this was another world, and both you and her now have to navigate another lonely place. At least you’d do it together, hand in hand.

It didn’t matter. You knew where you needed to be.

“I want to see it.”

You need to see it. You grasp desperately at Bruce’s arm, nails digging into his expensive and ruined suit. Begging him, pleading him.

He says something. You think it’s a ‘what?’

“I want to see their graves. I want to see my mother’s grave.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and you’re too tired, too exhausted to tell what emotion flits across it. You wonder if it’s the same desperation you feel. But it confirms it. They’re dead. They’re still dead. Despite everything, despite the entire world changing for you, the most important part had been forgotten.

They were still dead. And you were still here. Alone.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, but for tonight, you need to rest,” he promises you, and your hand releases. You watch your palm hang limply in your lap, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like your hand. Bruce starts speaking again, this apologetic, pitying tone. You can’t stand it. You can’t stand it one bit.

And in the rudest, most cowardly thing you’ve ever done, you cover your ears like a child.

The rest of the car ride passes in a blur of colour and sound. You’re in Gotham, driving away from the Tower, you’re at the edges of town, passing over one of the bridges, you’re driving through New Jersey’s countryside, passing green fields and old buildings. You go by the iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, up the alley’s winding entryway, and finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of the stairs.

To Mr. Wayne’s credit, he doesn’t open the fucking door for you again. You get to stumble your way out on your own two stubborn legs, swaying drunkenly, sickly. He waits for you at the stairs, and you ignore the arm he offers you. He’s just as blindingly irritating as his son.

Didn’t you like these people? You would again in the morning, you just needed your hate. It was the only thing keeping you going at this point. Pure rage was fueling you as you climbed those steps. You’re panting, but you don’t really know why. They’re not that tall.

You feel weak. You feel so, so weak. And you hate it. You’d worked so hard to be free of it, even when you longed for it like a toxic ex-lover, you’d pushed it away. And now it had it’s fangs wrapped around you again, and again, you’d have to climb out of hell.

Today, it was more literal. Tomorrow? God fucking knows. People were literally vanishing from thin air, Pete’s sake. You’ll try, of course. But god fucking knows.

A butler opens the door, and Bruce enters. Once you follow in, the butler closes the door behind him. This time, you really do try to hear what they say. It’s impossible. You concentrate, but all you get for your hard work is a headache. Tomorrow, you’ll try again tomorrow.

The butler rushes off, something important and butler-y to be done. You really didn’t know what butlers did. You couldn’t imagine what their jobs were other than cleaning and cooking. Accounting? Did butlers do accounting?

“I need to handle some things. Will you be able to find your old room alright?” Bruce asks, interrupting your increasingly inane thoughts.

You blink, at him stupidly. Because you were stupid. You had a brand to keep.

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t really know why you do. Some odd mix of self-protective instincts, exhaustion-induced delirium, and also a deep desire to be alone. You really, really wanted to be fucking alone.

“Goodnight then,” Bruce says, he pauses like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s done that twice now, you think. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth the effort. He’d be right.

You watch his back as he strides off into the darkness of the manor, leaving you shivering in the empty foyer. Your expensive ballgown is tattered, grimy, and worst of all, bloody. You want to get out of it. And then you want to sleep.

The click of his dress shoes fades, and you’re left wondering what the fuck you’re going to do next. Could you just start storming into random empty rooms? Where would you find any clothes? You were not going to sleep in this dress, no way.

So, you start up the grand staircase and start storming into random empty rooms. You find studies, bathrooms, and bedrooms. None that seem like anyone lives in them, of course. They feel like fancy hotel stays, the type you see online and sigh about.

The house, no, the manor, is quiet. Empty. It feels haunted, honestly. It probably was, a building this old and important. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know about Martha and Thomas Wayne. You didn’t think any Gotham native didn’t know about them, about the tragedy that had struck them.

It made Bruce seem like someone real, someone like you. Because if even the billionaires could get shot in alleys in Gotham City, it made more sense when the poor folks died. Like you were all human like God didn’t play favourites.

But, let’s be honest, you’d prefer to be an orphan in a mansion than the Narrows. Bruce Wayne had time to heal after what happened to him, for you it was from the frying pan to the fire.

The orphanage you’d been in for two years before you’d turned eighteen and been kicked out had had a very strict hierarchy. Probably still did, you never went back to check. It was technically a foster home, but the ancient sign beside the front door spoke differently. ‘Gotham Orphanage - Founded by Alan Wayne 1878’, the mark of the Waynes even found there. You used to touch the sign every time you went past it like it was some odd good luck charm. You still owe that sign your first successful job interview. Like you didn’t touch the copper plate every damn day, including every day you’d failed another interview.

And, well, it was Gotham. It wasn’t a good place. It had long been cemented in your mind that those theories that Gotham was cursed were true. That there wasn’t any other explanation.

You pause in your musings when you find a room that actually looks like it might be lived in. A long time ago, you think, from the dust covering the shelves. When you check the closet, you find men’s clothes, also untouched. You hope whoever lives here doesn’t care if you steal their shit, because you certainly don’t. Oh wow, this bathroom is gorgeous. The tub is gigantic, easily able to fit a group of at least six, maybe more. Still, you want to go to sleep more than you want a nice soak, so you go for a quick shower where you get rid of all… all the blood.

You watch the red run down the drain and are brought back to much simpler times.

Even as one of the older kids, you were still new blood. You hadn’t made any friends when you tried to defend the younger, weaker kids, either. The foster ‘parents’ who didn’t let you call them anything other than Mrs and Mr Hemming didn’t care about any abuse that happened under the house, as long as it wasn’t visible. You’d done this ritual before, but it actually had been your blood. It hadn’t hurt as much as this did, for some unknowable reason.

You weren’t a fighter. The very few punches you did take, you never hit back. Not like you had tonight. You’d been terrified the Hemmings would kick you out, stop feeding you. Still, you never moved, either. Never let the others take their anger out on the younger kids. You couldn’t do it. And now, looking back on it, your fear of the Hemmings retaliating was stupid. They’d needed the funds the foster caring gave them, and they were always trying to take in more and more kids.

They were empty threats. You were a terrified child. The what-ifs didn’t really matter anymore.

And maybe you were a bleeding heart type, like the other kids had said. Maybe you were gullible, naive, and a pushover. Like you hadn’t been through all the bullshit everyone else had. Like you being nice and hopeful and all those things that got you picked on weren’t all deliberate choices. One day, all the anger and rage you had would bubble over. It would destroy you and your life in a catastrophe, not unlike the one that took your family.

You’d already pushed it down so many times. Waking up today, in a different, unfamiliar world, had probably just made it worse. As always, you ignore it. It’s not worth worrying about.

Getting out of the shower, you do a very lazy towel off and then grab that mystery man’s clothes. They’re mostly dress suits, but you find a few old T-shirts. It hangs off you like a curtain, but it’s warm and it smells nice. Minty and earthy and… oddly free. Bouncy, alive, but still calming and relaxing. It’s a nice counter to the corpse vibes you’re rocking right now, which is decidedly un-alive and un-calm.

You wonder what it would’ve been like to mourn in safety. Where you didn’t have to worry if someone would steal your portion of food or the few funds you could hide in the garden. Where the glares of others didn’t constantly dig into your skin, reminding you that you weren’t wanted there. That you never would be.

That was alright. The place had stunk of mould and rat shit anyway. And maybe you had in this life. It didn't look like you were doing much better, anyway. No, this version of you somehow looked worse. You didn't know how it was possible, and then you remind yourself that none of this is possible, and you really ought to let go of that word.

Still, you lived in Gotham. You would always live in Gotham. You couldn’t leave, it was your home. It was a part of you, like every other sorry idiot who still lived here. School shootings, bomb threats, the city’s regular ol’ disasters. Even if you had been put in a good foster home, even if you had lived... here, you doubted your life would’ve been that much better. Of course, you were still bitter about it. Couldn’t the world just take a little bit off your plate? Maybe it was now, maybe this was the universe's way of saying sorry. A fancy, but empty house, with a still dead family. Maybe you were a little too greedy, a little too jealous.

You slide the duvet covers to the side, untucking them just like you do whenever you do stay in a crappy motel. When all the sides are thoroughly untucked, you slide underneath the covers. When your face lands on the pillow, you sigh in relief. Despite all the bullshit you’d suffered tonight, you had silk pillows, and this phone had youtube premium, so you could listen to rain sounds on it.

Safe. Sort of. Happy. Sort of. Alive. Sort of.

You told yourself it could be worse. And it could’ve been, so you kept on. Today, even after the night you’d had, you tell yourself it could be worse, again. At least the goon didn’t capture you, at least you didn’t actually see the Joker, at least you had a safe bed for the night, at least…

At least the Batman didn’t rescue you. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think it.

You hated him almost as much as the Joker, which was saying something since you regularly daydreamed about ripping that man limb from limb. Because the Bat refused to do anything about the supervillain, to finally put the mad dog down, you would always hate him. There wasn’t any other option. You sort of hated his entire entourage. Even Red Hood a bit, since even if they constantly fought, it was obvious both of them held back when dealing with each other. Still, you hated Red Hood and Robin a little less, after tonight. You kind of owed it to them.

You didn’t want to. You wanted to hate them and keep hating them till you died. It was one of your little things, the little things you couldn’t let go of. The little things that hinted at your less-than-perfect sanity. You felt that if you ever forgot what they’d done, what they kept doing every day, that you’d be disrespecting your family, forgetting some part of them. Some part of their memory, which you greedily hoarded away. Not a single precious recollection was to be lost, not ever.

You weren’t allowed to move on. Weren’t supposed to. Sometimes the many little rules you’d made for yourself felt like they were going to eat you alive. A swarm devouring its master. Swallowing you down bit by bit. Up and up, eating all the parts of you pushed down.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you, closing your eyes tight. Like if you tuck your feet inside the duvet, the monsters can’t get you. Your monsters can’t get you. Sometimes it felt like they were already feasting, and you just refused to feel it.

But only sometimes, right?

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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shiny-jr · 10 months

Text

we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from

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

Summary: (Continuation, after this and short series which started here) Upon realizing their mistakes and the result of their cruel acts and rash decisions, the main cast are heartbroken and devastated.

Note: Here it is, the reactions people have been asking for over a year already. Well, kinda. The is the post to set up the story to it, and as the previous parts, I’ll be splitting them.

Next part.

Afterthought.

When the raging storm quelled, news got out quickly to clear your name. The information spread as fast as the declaration from a week ago claiming you were an imposter. Just as swiftly came the apologies.

Ramshackle became your safe haven. It was ironic that the resting place of your vessel became your sanctuary. As for your vessel, well, it was a bit unnerving to look at. It looked more like a realistic life-sized doll to you, like the type that should be contained in glass and admired in wacky museums. Not knowing what else to do with it, Grim had helped you move Yuu to a spare bedroom where the vessel would be kept under lock and key.

But, besides the vessel, you had more pressuring matters at hand. Throughout that whole ordeal, there were countless hunting you down and only few you might’ve considered an ally or a neutral party. So, those given permission to step foot in Ramshackle were far and few in between. Priority was given to Grim, of course. The loyal feline had helped you through it all and without him... well, you didn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened to you. Others allowed were the trio of ghosts who hadn’t assisted in the hunt for you. No matter how members of other dorms attempted to pry information such as where Grim might’ve gone when he first vanished, the ghosts never told a thing mostly because they didn’t know but also because they were not quick to assume a random person was some sort of imposter. Additionally, when time allowed, the staff came by to check on your condition as they realized this was a delicate situation and their students had traumatized you.

These were the only people you allowed yourself to interact with. For your own mental health, you avoided stepping outside. You never even opened the windows or balcony in fear of seeing the face of one of the characters you once adored but had tried to harm you. And it wasn’t just paranoia speaking. You knew they came by, as sometimes Grim looked out a window and sneered in disgust. However, it seemed that none of them had the confidence to knock on the door, or maybe they knew better than to expect a warm welcome after what they had done.

The letters came shortly after. Probably someone’s bright idea of penning a classy apologetic letter, which others copied and it soon became a trend. Some sent multiple messages, others sent gifts. With not much else to do in the dorm besides wait for your physical injuries to heal, you knew this would probably do you no good for your mental wounds, but you decided to read a few of them anyways. Not all of them, that would take all day. But, you’d let Grim claim whatever spoils he wanted from the heap of presents while you read one letter from each student you knew.

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #I didn't ask to get isekaied #twst imposter au #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

Careless Whisper.

Yan Gojo x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a long game of playing hard to get, Satoru finally gets you to go on a date with him. But you didn’t expect him to choose a farmer’s market of all places for it to happen.

Warnings: Yandere themes, threats of kidnapping, manipulation, and stalking.

Continuation of There is an Uproar.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

This Could Be Us by Rae Sremmurd

Get Up by NewJeans

Supermassive Black Hole by Muse

Bathroom by Montell Fish

Hotel by Montell Fish

Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar (feat. Jay Rock)

After Hours by The Weeknd

Government Hooker by Lady Gaga

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

The Walls by Chase Atlantic

“You’re killing me; don’t you see that you’re the winner of the game?” – Benét, Killing Eve

*~*~*~*

You hold onto the basket like a lifeline.

You grasp the handle so tightly it leaves a mark on your palm and the inner parts of your fingers, and you can practically feel splinters impaling them.

They say the devil takes on many forms, and if it were said that the devil could take the form of a white-haired man with sunglasses in whatever religious texts you were given in your childhood, you would believe that without question.

The identity of whoever or whatever forced you on this little outing is not human. You know this. He can’t be. If he is, your view of humanity will decrease tenfold from where it once was.

Should you pray to all the higher powers and heavens above that he is or is not?

“Come on, let’s get moving!” They say monsters speak in either honeyed, calm, and sweet voices or grimy and croaky ones; but this one is neither. “I kinda want to pet a chicken.”

*~*~*~*

“There’s my girlie!”

You were not surprised in the slightest when Satoru pulled up to your door with a Rolls-Royce. At the sight and the called-out nickname, you even roll your eyes and cross your arms, much to the driver’s amusement. The car is adorned with lamb's wool carpets, embellished with stunning wood and milled aluminum accents, and encased in box grain leather. Only the highest quality materials for the all-high and mighty Satoru Gojo. It is the topmost privilege for a mere mortal like you to even see it.

“You ready?” As you ever will be.

“Yeah.” Your response is quick and to the point. “You still haven’t even told me where we are going for this… date.”

The smirk that appears on his face instantly gives you the impulse to slap it off. But he is stronger, and will most likely not let you, because he is the one in control and not you. So, as he beckons you closer, you close the car door behind you and sit down on the leather seat. The drive to hit him still stands for as long as you anticipated. You just look out the window and hope it goes away.

It is nice outside. Though if Satoru’s foot was not on the peddle, you would have liked it more.

It’s spring now. The grass is bright green and tall, and you could swear that you can smell it. Tiny circles of flowers are there now and then. Dandelions and daffodils mostly. You could count them if Satoru was not driving so damn fast you think he is speeding.

He put your purse and phone in the back seat because, of course, he would want no distractions to stop you from paying attention to him.

He starts talking about how nice your dress looks and how happy he is to have you as his girlfriend.

You want to puke.

It would take at least two weeks for the smell to go away. He would have to clean it up because you would refuse to. Any damage done to his ego no matter how small is a win in your book.

You could picture it now. Satoru, long plastic gloves on his hands and wearing an apron, scrubbing the expensive carpet stained with bile and looking disgusted with you. Maybe he would give up on you then.

You almost laugh at the thought but decide against it when he starts talking with a smile that does not exactly reach his eyes.

*~*~*~*

He is tailing behind you like a grim reaper.

The black turtleneck he is wearing you suppose could count as a cloak. His face is white enough to be a skull, his hair helping you see it in your mind. All the expectations he has for you could be considered a guillotine’s blade that is ready to be let loose at any moment. Maybe a scythe. Don’t lose your head. That is what you keep telling yourself as you go down the aisles of sewn aprons and freshly baked bread and chickens wandering not too far off from the butcher’s cutting board. Don’t lose your head.

So, you keep walking to not be the victim of Satoru’s wrath.

“They’re so cute!” He exclaims, bending down to get a better look at the rabbits that are trapped within the confines of the barbed fence. “I just want to take one home! It would be like having another you around!”

His cooing makes you want to stab your eardrums out with the plastic fork you were given along with a free sample of chicken pot pie.

But you can’t ignore him either, he yearns for your responses like an addict.

“I’m not a rabbit.” You roll your eyes. Satoru responds by turning his head at you and then turning it again to make a visibly confused expression. “I’m a human. Not a pet. Not something to… lock up.” As his countenance turns somber and a hint of amusement lingers, the playful aura dissipates. Your breathing hastens, and your heart races. Perhaps voicing your thoughts was an ill-advised choice. Maybe an alternate utterance would have been wiser. Any alternative, for that expression, is one you wish to never witness again.

As you struggle to catch your breath, Satoru's steady grip on your shoulder brings a faint awareness to your hyperventilation. He calls out your name repeatedly, trying to reach through the haze of tears in your eyes. However, his words offer no solace or relief.

“Come on! Of course, you are.”

Maybe you will puke after all. But not on purpose like you originally intended.

His smile feels like a stab to the chest. Everything he does feels that way.

“...What do you mean?” What exactly does he have planned for you?

How far back do they go? Days, months, years, decades?

“You’ll see. You’ll like them, I know you will.” His hand clasps over your free one like a noose. “Either when you first know them or further down the line. I’ll be with you every step of the way no matter what you think. But just know I only have your best intentions at heart, okay? I can promise you that at least.”

“...Mmhmm. Let’s just… get moving.” Once again, you are off within a labyrinth of stalls.

You liked farmer’s markets during the warmer months, with your family and friends during school breaks and vacation times. Is that why he chose this place? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he also likes them. However, you cannot process the words Satoru and farmer’s market in the same sentence.

You pictured him bringing you to some nightclub and forcing you to dance under disco lights and loud music until you nearly faint from exhaustion. As much as you don’t want to admit it, maybe this is the better option.

You can’t imagine any other option. It could be worse. Those threats of his can easily become true, he could just lock you up in his penthouse and refuse to let you leave.

So, you don’t complain. You don’t want Satoru to get upset, even if you haven’t seen him that way.

“We’ll eventually move in together. Get married further down the line. Maybe have a kid or two, if we are really up to it, though I don’t mind if it is just the two of us.”

For once, you hope Satoru chooses his initial thought. You don’t want to bring any child into this hell.

“Romantic, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

His finger traces the bridge of your nose downward and the tip of it presses on its end.

“Boop!”

“Sigh…”

He does it again.

“So cute…”

“Let’s just continue.” You try so hard not to seethe. “I heard at this specific market they have good lentil soup. Focaccia too. Let’s go.”

He nods.

“Okay! We’re off!”

There is no escape, is there?

“It should be by the coffee stalls if I remember correctly.” You don’t get to finish because of course Satoru found a brand new interest to fixate on.

Aprons. Specifically, the pink lacy one that he is holding gently like a baby. “[First]! Look! You should wear it. It suits you!”

You shake your head immediately. To this, Satoru frowns. You’re hungry after being hauled around from stall to stall for the past hour or so. Can’t he understand that?

He holds the apron up closer to your face.

You turn away from it. Satoru only puts it closer. He really can be stubborn. That is what got you in this situation in the first place. As stubborn as you sometimes are, you can hardly compare to him. But that is with most things.

Money, power, influence, he will always have more than you will, won’t he? Damn it. No escape. Not from him.

Not from him.

But you can try, can’t you? You can at least try. “Come on! It would look so cute on you.” You shake your head. His frown only deepens and he sighs.

Then he shoots you a look again. The look demanding of you to be good or else. The look that gets you to obey him every time he uses it. Every time he puts his foot down.

Don’t lose your head.

Evade the blade.

“Good,” He says, handing you the apron with the smile you unsurprisingly prefer over the hellish expression he just showed you. “Go.”

You do.

Damn it. As long as Satoru keeps toying with you, you won’t ever be able to find peace. No escape. Damn it.

You slip the apron on as he watches, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

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enbyobeyme · 1 year

Note

Mc with kalim from twst's personality. Just curious on your view on this one

MC Is A Rich Ray of Sunshine with the Seven Brothers

I decided to headcanons for each of them rather than mini fics for each of them but lemme know if u want it redone!

Gn Mc, some TWST references.

Lucifer

Oh no…

From the start, Lucifer wonders how the hell you are even going to survive in the Devildom— your soul's the embodiment of purity, and you're also incredibly naive and gullible.

Not to mention you constantly end up lending his brothers your wealth, much to his headache— where did you even find a place to exchange Madol for Grim?!

He has to make it very clear to all the lower demons that you were chosen by Diavolo and not someone to be messed with at all.

Still as time goes on you grow on him.

You never seem to get angry or upset, and it is so refreshing to have such a sweet person by his side.

It's like the sunshine baby x grumpy protector dynamic. He's kinda like your Jamil.

Furthermore, you're always there to support and encourage him and his brothers. It almost annoys him with how soft he is for you.

However he does lecture you when you do something especially dumb.

Mammon

You're telling him the human he's watching is rich AND dumb??? Count him in.

No seriously when he finds out how generous you are he is MOOCHING off of you. You don't even get upset with him for losing the thousand you lent him! You don't have a greedy bone in your body

Lucifer has to smack him a few times and give him one hell of a lecture for him to stop since Lucifer knows that lecturing you wouldn't work.

After that he does feel guilty for using you, but you're not mad at him??? And you're so nice??? Honestly after being degraded by his siblings so long it feels nice to have someone that's so kind to him.

He still teases you for being so clueless all the time though, however, whenever someone else does it he immediately gets defensive! Only he can bully you.

You are both dumb together <3

Leviathan

Scared and envious.

Not only are you so ridiculously rich and kind, but you're also a huge extrovert, ew no thanks!

He honestly dreads interacting with you at first because you don't notice his shyness at all and keep talking to him and oh no you're dragging him outside of his room to show him something!

As he gets to know you he gets more envious. How can other people not bother you??? Why are you so nice??? Practically everyone here loves you! You never get jealous or mad or anything and ugh he wishes he could be like that.

You actually listen to his interests even if you don't understand him and he falls in love then and there. You won't find him cringe or weird??? Strange…

He seldom holds your dumbness over your head and becomes super protective of you. It's easy to forget that Leviathan was originally planned to be a canonical Yandere/psychopath like Belphie.

May mooch off you for anime merch but he always pays you back unlike SOMEBODY!!

Satan

You piss him off so much. Where's your rage??? Your anger???

Lucifer practically insults you to your face all the time and you just agree and laugh it off? What the fuck? You're so patient and he doesn't understand it at all. To make it worse you are so endearingly stupid too that he feels like an asshole for being mean to you.

You're the exact opposite of him. And yet you both work together so well once he actually starts to get to know you. He definitely wasn't the kindest to you when you first came down. He probably had you hand cursed stuff to Lucifer or prank you.

He apologizes for all of that though, and becomes your tutor for devildom subjects and you both become an iconic dynamic.

You're always there to calm him down and he's always there to fight a bitch in your honor. You're there to be cute and dumb and he'll be your brain.

Swears that he would never use your money but he's just saying it would be nice to get that million dollar tome…

Asmodeus

Awww you're so gullible and cute! It's gonna be so fun to corrupt you…. Or so he thought…

Honestly everything he says goes over your head. Not a single innuendo sticks in your brain because it it so smooth, so it just slides off.

He actually doesn't really tease or bully you and would even let you know when someone's being mean to you, but you're just okay with it?

He finds you so adorable and makes it known much to everyone's chagrin. You always compliment him for him and not his looks and you seem to really want to know him? It really touches his heart and he's absolutely smitten with this dumbass.

He may occasionally beg you to take him shopping but he swears to make it up to you! Congrats on your sugar baby!

Beelzebub

Yall are both dumb together, but thankfully Beel is less dumb.

The absolute nicest on this list. He never makes fun of you or finds you weird at all, in fact, he finds you quite admirable! Seriously his brothers could learn a thing or two from you!

You're always so nice to him and everybody around him! And then you offer to pay for his meals?! Oh he's in love.

You now have your own puppydog/bodyguard hybrid.

Belphegor

He hates you so much.

Seriously, how can someone be so positive all the time?! It really gets on his nerves.

You're too kind for your own good, don't you know people will take advantage of you down here? Seriously, how dumb do you have to be.

Belphie just gets annoyed with you. Sometimes he just wants to be a hater but you're here making him see the good in everything.

He definitely uses you're naivety to his advantage though and has you carry pranks to Lucifer without you realizing.

Lightly teases you but only he can do it pt 2.

As you grow on him be becomes fond of you and you sorta remind him of Beel and Lilith. It often makes him nostalgic.

He would kill for you.

#skintights0cks #obey me #obey me nightbringer #twisted wonderland #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #satan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #beelzebub x reader

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pastelvelvett · 11 months

Text

Aaaa I'm so sorry it took so long But here it is, a Yandere!Harvey x reader, as requested by the lovely @lucienbarkbark! Also, hope everyone's having a great pride month!! I may or may not be preparing a lil something for that, who knows 👉👈

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Yandere!Harvey x Gn!Sick!Reader

The more the both of you spent time together, the more attached the doctor would find himself to you. The more details he had about your past life in the city, your life right now, and the things that you liked and disliked, the more he'd find himself hanging onto every word you spoke. While Harvey definitely had a good memory, knowing so many facts about one person was definitely unusual for him. He loved everything about you, so much so that he memorized every single thing you divulged to him without even trying.

But as the minutes passed, his concern grew, eventually to the point that he was such a bundle of nerves that he had to go over to your farm to check if you were okay. As much as he wanted to stay calm, all that he could think about were the nearly infinite possibilities of what could've happened to you, and a lot of the ones he could think of were pretty far on the grim side. A part of him still knew full well that he was probably just overreacting, but the slightest possibility of you being hurt was too much for him to handle.

Harvey, with heart beating at an accelerated rhythm, shakily knocked at your wooden door. Much to his relief, he heard your voice from inside. Even though he did think your voice was slightly hoarse, all he could think about was how relieved he was you were okay, perfectly safe inside your home.

"Come in!" You said. Harvey didn't hesitate to, eager to see you after the maybe (definitely) disproportionate scare he just had. Once he opened the door to your farmhouse, he was quick to spot you laying in bed, snuggled into you blanket. A blush dusted his cheeks, finding the image adorable. He felt like seeing you comforted him even more than hearing you did. Now that he was calmer, he pretty easily noticed that your nose had reddish hue and that you were sniffling every so often. 'Ah... So you had a cold, that's why they didn't come.' Harvey thought to himself.

"Y/N! Hi! Ahah... It's a bit embarassing, but I was a bit worried about you, you know?" Harvey awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. You greeted him cheerfully, motioning towards your chair with a smile. Until that moment he was awkwardly standing in front of the exit, feeling like coming further inside without instruction from you could possibly be rude. Another thing he overthought, it seemed. He sat himself in your comfortable chair, noticing how your pretty lips formed a frown as you ruminated on his words.

"Oh... I'm really sorry Harvey. I didn't mean to worry you. Honestly, I kinda lost the track of time... I've been really sick since yesterday, my head's a lil hazy-" You explained, interrupted by your (admittedly very cute) sneeze. Harvey's brows knitted together, not really liking the fact that you implied that you were going to go out in your current state if only you didn't forget what time it was.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm just glad nothing bad happened to you." Harvey let out a sigh. You were too kind and considerate even when you didn't have to be. "...Besides, it really wouldn't have been a good idea to go out when you have a cold. You need all the rest you can get." Without realizing it, he switched to the tone he'd normally use when talking to patients about their health, this resulting in a lighthearted chuckle from you. He looked down in your directiin, puzzled as to why you were laughing.

"Nothing, just that... You turned on doctor mode there. You're real cute, Harv, you know that?" The nickname you've never used before plus the unexpected compliment equaled a very, very flustered Harvey. His cheeks set ablaze, trying to fumble his way through forming a sentence to very poor results. "T-Thanks... I think...? Gosh, don't say stuff like that. You're going to make me even redder than your face is right now." He breathed in to calm himself down. "Speaking of which..." The brown haired man got up from his seat, walking up to the bed with a straight face. When Harvey pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, in awe at how smooth, and incredibly hot, your face felt. He found himself melting at the contact, and maybe he would've lost himself in it if your temperature wasn't so concerning. He was sure that if he held his hand on your forehead for much longer than it would literally melt him aswell as figuratively.

"Gah, you're hot so hot...! A-Ah, wait, no I mean- In the temperature sense, of course. Not that you're not just-" Thankfully for Harvey, you mercifully cut him off, assuring him that you understood what he meant from the get-go. "R-Right. Well..." Harvey cleared his throat, removing his hand from your forehead and straightening his back. "Do you have any paracetamol? Or anything else that could help with your fever?" You shook your head no. "Okay, I'll have to bring you some then!"

"Only if you're quick. I'll miss you too much." You gave Harvey a playful grin. He really wasn't sure if you teasing him like this was only meant as playful banter, or a sign that he wouldn't irreparably screw things up if he went and told you how he felt. But that was something he didn't want to linger on in that moment. He had to take care of you, afterall. Harvey gave you nod and a smile, turning towards the door. But before he could walk off he heard your voice again. "Wait! Would... Would it be okay if you stayed over a bit to make me some soup? You told me before that you're really good at cooking, and I've been really excited to try it out! Sorry if it's rude of me to ask you instead of you offering..." Harvey's heart skipped at your request, feeling the slightest bit nervous at the prospect of you tasting his cooking.

"Ah, not at all. You're sick. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't at least treat you with some soup?" And with that, he began preparing you your food. Sounds of chatter between you and Harvey mixed in with that of cutting vegetables and stirring. It was a comfortable, intimate atmosphere. It made Harvey imagine how it would be like to live with you and have this dynamic every single day. He couldn't help but be excited for the future. Maybe he was just convincing himself everything would turn over well because not having the future he imagined wouldn't be something he could handle. He didn't know for sure, but in that moment what was once worry turned into (perhaps misplaced) confidence that things would go over well. All he had to do was find the right time, you'd understand him and feel the same.

As the minutes passed, your conversatiin fizzled out into an equally comfortable silence. When Harvey announced that he finished your meal with an excited tone he expected some sort of response from you, but confusingly enough, he didn't receive any. With brows furrowed, he turned his head in your direction. His brown eyes first fell on your closed ones, then your slightly agape lips, and lastly your chest that rose and fell at a steady rhythm. Your peaceful sleeping face was a sight for sore eyes. You worked so tirelessly on a daily basis, and while he knew you enjoyed what you did, he couldn't help but be worried about you constantly. As much as he admired your determination, overworking yourself like that clearly didn't do any wonders for your health. He sighed, wishing you could listen to your body just a little more often.

Harvey left the bowl of soup where it was, deciding he would heat it up for you once you woke up. He took the opportunity to bring you the meds he was planning to bring, placing them on the end table next to your bed with a cup of water. Something he didn't really plan to bring alongside the medicine but ended up bringing anyway was his trusty camera. He knew it wasn't right. There was no way you would be okay with him taking pictures of you while you were asleep, and he knew that him aknowledging but still doing it made him an even worse person. But by Yoba, he couldn't help it. He wanted, and felt like he needed, to keep seeing your sleeping face even tonight after he'd go home. Waking up next to you could be a far future, and he wanted to have you with him while he slept in some way. After he was done taking several pictures from multiple angles, he stuffed the camera in his pocket. He really, really hoped you would never find out about this. Because he loved you more than anything and anyone, and he wanted you to feel the same more than anything.

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the-broken-truth · 2 months

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Last Meal - Jamil Viper [Yandere] [Female Yuu] [Mini-Series?]

Summary: After spending a year in Twisted Wonderland, Crowley finds a way to send Yuu back to her Original world; while she is happy with this news, a certain serpent servant is not. How does he cope? By making a very special meal - their last meal together.

[Notification: New Message from Jamil Viper 🐍]

Jamil Viper 🐍: I heard the news... Crowley found a way to send you back home, correct, Prefect.

Prefect: Yeah! I'll be able to head home tomorrow morning. I'm actually glad you texted, I wanted to take you for everything you've done for me, Jamil-senpai.

Jamil Viper 🐍: I see... What about Dinner?

Prefect: Dinner?

Jamil Viper 🐍: If tonight is going to be your last night in Wonderland, I would like to make dinner for you and we can talk one last time. I already prepared the food and I'm currently on my way to Ramshackle. Is that alright?

Prefect: Sure! I would love to have one last meal with you!

Jamil Viper 🐍: Yes... One Last Meal.

About 5 minutes after the last message was received, there was a knock on Ramshackle's Front Door. Yuu placed her phone in her pocket, left her room, walked down the stairs, and opened the front door to reveal Jamil Viper standing on the other side of the door with two large bags in his hands while dressed in his casual clothing, his signature hoodie on display for the Prefect of Ramshackle to see.

"Hello, Jamil-senpai!" Yuu said as she moved to the side to allow Jamil to walk in.

"Good evening, Prefect." Jamil said before looking around as if trying to find something, "Is Grim around?"

"No. Grim decided that he was going to head to Heartslabyul and stay with Ace and Deuce; it was kinda weird because it was as if he was hiding something." Yuu said as she closed the door behind her before walking over to Jamil, looking down at the bags in Jamil's hands. "What did you bring?"

"Some high-grade steaks and some other sides that would best compliment the steaks." Jamil looked into the eyes of the Prefect before smiling at her," This is going to be a lovely dinner. Just for the two of us."

Yuu looked into Jamil's eyes - an unknown emotion, mysterious but dangerous. Something within her was telling her that something was not right with Jamil, however, Yuu knew that Jamil was always a mysterious person and that could just be how he currently was since he wasn't too happy about Yuu leaving in the morning.

Jamil walked into the Dining Room and began to set the table after collecting plates and wine glasses from Ramshackle's Kitchen Cabinets; Jamil brought the crystal wine glasses with him. Yuu watched as Jamil placed the food on the plates before pulling her chair out for her, waiting for her to sit, and pushing her chair in before walking to the other side of the table and taking a seat. The two of them said a prayer to the Great Seven before they started eating while enjoying conversation about their past adventures.

After dinner, Jamil was washing the dishes while Yuu was enjoying the dessert that Jamil made for her: It was a Strawberry Parfait with whipped cream and some small fruits that resembled seeds; she felt like she had seen something like that before but she couldn't place her finger on it and ate the dessert before turning to Jamil who was placing a plate in the drying rack.

"Jamil-senpai, you don't have to wash the dishes; ya know?" Yuu asked.

"I just want to be a good guest. This is your dorm after all." Jamil said, not turning to face Yuu, but the tone in his voice was...different; she remembered that tone when she met him when he was hiding his true intentions.

"It won't matter in the morning... I'll be gone." Yuu said.

Jamil was silent for a while before he spoke again.

"Prefect... In your Original World, do you have any Mythology that originated in Greece that you are familiar with?" Jamil asked while he was drying a wine glass.

"Greek Mythology? I mean, they taught us some but I don't remember everything. Why?" Yuu asked.

"I am curious if your Mythology matches with our own." Jamil answered.

"Hmmm...." Yuu pondered for a moment before answering with the first thing that came to mind, "Oh, I remember this one rule: Do not eat food in the Underworld, otherwise you will not be able to leave! Oh, and avoid pomegranates unless you are offering them to Lord Hades!"

"I see... Your Knowledge is similar to our own in regards to the King of the Underworld, but there are a few...differences." Jamil said as he placed the glass on the drying rack; that was his last dish but he kept his back turned to Yuu for a moment, "Our myth is about food, but it's more about cooking it there."

"Huh?" Yuu questioned.

"Here is our myth: If you consume food that has been cooked in the Flames of the Underworld, regardless if you are in the Underworld or the Mortal Realm when you eat the food, you will die if you are not from a host of high power." Jamil explained, "However...if you consume pomegranate seeds before the effects of the tainted food take effect, you will survive but... your soul will be...reborn. Everything you once were will be erased and you shall be a new template; ready to be shaped. It is a painful process...painful but necessary."

"That's rather...brutal. Why are you telling me this?" Yuu asked.

Suddenly, Jamil's Phone started ringing; the Viper pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked to see who was calling before telling Yuu that he needed to take this before walking out of the kitchen, and out the front door to have his conversation in private.

Yuu sat there for a while when she felt a light tightness in her chest before using her fist to lightly hit her chest as if she was trying to bring up a burp, but a cough came up instead; she instinctively covered her mouth and violently coughed into it before removing her hand from her mouth and looked down at it - her eyes widened as her eyes landed on a crimson stain on her palm of her hand...

"Blood?" She questioned herself before she coughed once again, even worse this time, and her heart was hurting even worse; as if something was pulling her apart from the inside. She tried to stand up but her body suddenly felt weak as she fell to the ground, causing her phone to fly out of her loose pocket and slide across the floor.

Yuu continued to cough up blood, the pain getting worse and worse with each passing moment; she clenched her shirt over her heart as she looked at the door, she wanted to call out for Jamil but her voice was hurting; she couldn't speak. She looked around, her vision starting to blur when her eyes landed on her phone. She pushed through the pain and crawled to the device, she reached out for it, only for a tan and to reach down and pick up the phone before she could grab it. Her eyes landed on familiar tennis shoes as she weakly looked up and landed in the face of Jamil Viper, watching as he placed her phone in his hoodie pocket. Yuu attempted to speak through her blood-stained lips but Jamil knelt beside her and gently caressed her face while shushing her.

"I know. I know it hurts, My Diamond... It's so painful but necessary." Jamil whispered.

Yuu's eyes widened.

The story.

This pain.

Everything made sense: Jamil fed her food that had been cooked using the flames of the underworld.

She was dying...

"No, My Diamond, you are not dying; you are being reborn. Your dessert is making sure of that." Jamil said while smiling at her before gently holding her in his arms, not caring that her blood was getting on his hoodie.

"I never wanted to do this, none of us did, but we could not all you to turn to the world you came from; you belong here in Wonderland but you never understood that. You wanted to leave me and the world we were building together, but I couldn't allow that to happen. I need you, My Diamond, just as you need me." He gently kissed her forehead, "You will experience more pain in the coming days, but everything will be for your betterment, and once everything is said and done... We shall have our Happily Ever After. Rest, My Diamond, don't fight it... Let the rebirth happen and I shall be there to guide you."

With those words, the pain became too much for Yuu to bear and she slipped into an unconscious state of mind. Jamil looked at her body for a while before pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing a number, putting it up to his ear.

"It's done. Prepare the room and get everyone together." Jamil said.

"Understood." The other persona said before hanging up.

Jamil looked at Yuu's face before pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the blood from Yuu's lips, "Everything is going to be alright, My Diamond in the Rough; once everything is done, no one will be able to take you from me again...nor will you escape me. Everything will be as it is supposed to be." Once her face was clean, he placed a tender kiss on her lips, "I love you. I love you so much."

The front door opened and Jamil looked behind him at the eyes watching him. He lifted Yuu in his arms and carried her out of Ramshackle before the door slammed behind him, leaving the Prefect's Dorm in darkness.

[END?]

#twisted wonderland masterlist #yandere jamil viper #jamil viper #jamil viper x yuu #female yuu

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pastelvelvett-2nd · 9 months

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Post info

♡ Word count: 1,716

♡ Post type: x reader

♡ Taste: Fluffy Treat

♡ Reader pronouns: GN

! Please read the tags for tws!

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Yandere!Harvey x Sick!Reader

You and Harvey have been pretty close lately, that was clear as day. Despite Harvey normally being the reserved sort, it took a very small amount of time for him to warm up to you. What once was awkward small talk evolved to discussing topics that were a bit deeper than just commenting on the weather. Often, you'd talk about eachother's lives over a hot cup of coffee, a drink Harvey apparently enjoyed quite a bit. The more the both of you spent time together, the more attached the doctor would find himself to you. The more details he had about your past life in the city, your life right now, and the things that you liked and disliked, the more he'd find himself hanging onto every word you spoke. While Harvey definitely had a good memory, knowing so many facts about one person was definitely unusual for him. He loved everything about you, so much so that he memorized every single thing you divulged to him without even trying.

Hanging out together after Harvey's work hours became a daily ritual of sorts, one that he woke up every day deeply excited for. So you can imagine how he felt when for the first time in weeks, you weren't there in front of his clinic door waiting for him to exit. His first instinct was to worry, but he was able to calm himself down relatively easily. It was true you were always there at 3PM sharp, but it would be silly to assume something bad happened to you just because you're a little late this time around. You were a busy person, maybe you just didn't finish your work for the day yet. That seemed like a reasonable possibility to him. But as the minutes passed, his concern grew, eventually to the point that he was such a bundle of nerves that he had to go over to your farm to check if you were okay. As much as he wanted to stay calm, all that he could think about were the nearly infinite possibilities of what could've happened to you, and a lot of the ones he could think of were pretty far on the grim side. A part of him still knew full well that he was probably just overreacting, but the slightest possibility of you being hurt was too much for him to handle.

"Gah, you're so hot...! A-Ah, wait, no I mean- In the temperature sense, of course. Not that you're not just-" Thankfully for Harvey, you mercifully cut him off, assuring him that you understood what he meant from the get-go. "R-Right. Well..." Harvey cleared his throat, removing his hand from your forehead and straightening his back. "Do you have any paracetamol? Or anything else that could help with your fever?" You shook your head no. "Okay, I'll have to bring you some then!"

As the minutes passed, your conversation fizzled out into an equally comfortable silence. When Harvey announced that he finished your meal with an excited tone he expected some sort of response from you, but confusingly enough, he didn't receive any. With brows furrowed, he turned his head in your direction. His brown eyes first fell on your closed ones, then your slightly agape lips, and lastly your chest that rose and fell at a steady rhythm. Your peaceful sleeping face was a sight for sore eyes. You worked so tirelessly on a daily basis, and while he knew you enjoyed what you did, he couldn't help but be worried about you constantly. As much as he admired your determination, overworking yourself like that clearly didn't do any wonders for your health. He sighed, wishing you could listen to your body just a little more often.

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rainnotliam · 1 year

Note

Is it possible to make a yandare arven but kinda fluffy? Sometimes I wish the main character/reader can accept the yandare-ness (especially arven cause he been through a lot) idk so fluffy yandare arven please? 🥺

Yandere Arven, but fluff fic? Challenge accepted my friend!

Reader x Arven, of course . Slight possessive behavior, but much fluff and cuddles too!

You scrolled through your Rotom phone, absolutely tired from today. As nice as it was to have Battle Studies, the amount of training one had to go through to satisfy Dendra was energy draining. The only thing that made it really worth it was the amount of Experience Points that could level up any team easily.

Luckily, this period was language. Mr. Salvatore had mercy on class (no pun intended) and let a little of free time before class. So you decided it would be best to see what kinds of battle items would help your team in the Ace tournament.

“Leftovers would be good… but perhaps the Lucky Egg could level my team up faster?”

You questioned your decisions, torn between power or levels.

“Or maybe-”

Suddenly, there is a rush of footsteps, before your vision is covered. You drop your Rotom phone in surprise, the device landing with a loud CLACK! on your desk.

“Who is it?”

An energetic tone emitted from the question. You chuckle to yourself, before putting your own hands over the large warm ones.

“Hmm… I don’t know? Who’s very good at cooking, the soon-to-be famous chef?” You smile.

“I wonder?” The voice had a hint of amusement too.

“Arven, eres bien canijo!”

A giggle escaped your upperclassman’s mouth, as he uncovered his hands from your eyes. Arven bent down to hug you from your sitting position, burying his face into your neck.

“We’re best buds, of course you know who I am!”

“Why wouldn’t I? Arven, your voice is so soft just like that caring soul. Plus, those hands are rough from all that adventuring,” you tease lightly.

There was definitely a smile going on, because you could feel his lips curving upwards.

“I shouldn’t expect any less, that’s coming from a Champion,” Arven said. He looked up from his position, now resting his chin on your shoulder. “Que estás viendo?”

“Battle items. The Ace tournament is a lot harder, Nemona’s been training hard.”

Arven hummed, one of his hands traveling up to your hair. He ruffled it slightly, fingers gently caressing the strands.

“She’s not empujando te to do something, is she?” He asked.

Your stomach felt like jittery jello hearing those few words. Nemona had asked you to train with her but…

“No, of course not! She may be eager and happy someone is her rival, but it doesn’t mean she goes to those lengths! It’s nothing to worry about,” you manage to muster.

Arven pondered about the answer for a minute or two, before taking himself off you.

“Well, class is starting. Gotta go to my seat, see you later bud!”

He waves at you with a happy aura painting him. You smile to yourself: Arven reminded you of a joyful puppy.

A puppy that hadn’t seen light in a decade or so, ever since Turo died. Ever since Mabosstiff got injured.

You didn’t mind the way he held you especially close. After all, he had suffered through so much, the least you could do was stay by his side… right?

Well, that joy only lasted for so long. You froze as you heard the seat right beside you creak, someone sitting in it. They placed their items near yours, giving you a slightly warm smile.

Your eyes went wide, before frantically shaking your head, hoping they would take the hint. Thankfully for your classmate, Mr. Salvatore walked in.

You tuned out the usual greeting from him, responding with a slightly grim “Oui.”

Class seemed to take ages, replaced by the shakiness of your body. Even though Pikachu was here as well, the Pokémon’s usual cheerful “Pika!” exclamations.

Hopefully this person would ignore you and take the hint you didn’t want anything to do with them. That you wanted them to get away as soon as possible, never approach you once again. The thought of what would happen…

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

That can’t happen.

Before you knew it, the bell rang. Mr. Salvatore audibly gaped at the bell, before shaking his head. He muttered a few things, before baring them a slightly cheerful “Adieu!”

You quickly tried to gather your items, fear settling into your stomach. The least that could happen was a minor injury but even so…

“Y/N! Hey, you got any plans?”

Arceus. This couldn’t have gone any better could it?

“Um, I guess not?” Your breath was shaky, but you managed to pull the simple response together.

“Wanna train with me and my group? We really admire you, and would like-”

A flinch was forced from your natural instinct, as a hand planted firmly across your shoulder. You could feel a menacing aura behind you, and inhaled deeply.

“Sorry. They have plans with me already.”

Arven’s usual gentle voice, forced a deeper tone. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet knew they were already forming to slits. The usual calm gleam was storming in his eyes.

“Y/N, is that true?”

You knew better by now than to deny any lies, because they were going to be true.

“Well yeah, me and Arven planned on going out for a while, going for ice cream.”

“Ooo! Can I go with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Arven piped up.

You and your classmate look at Arven in wide eyes. He had never spoken up in conversations, other than holding a protective hand over you.

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s a date. And by the way, we’re not including you for a threesome,” Arven rolled his eyes.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with them? Prove it right here and right now,” your classmate insisted.

“What do I need to prove? You don’t believe me?” Arven asked.

“Prove that you’re dating. No way PokeNews would not announce something like that, mentiroso.”

Confusion filled your mind. How was your upperclassman going to prove that? It wasn’t easy to convince someone that you’re dating the Champion, currently No.1 in the region-

“So what? You really don’t believe me? I’m not lying, te estoy diciendo la verdad, en Arceus.”

Why did it seem like Arven was toying around with their classmate?

“On Arceus? Pshhh, por favor.”

You looked up, only to see a slightly smiling Arven, who turned his gaze at you. You felt a hand suddenly grab your chin, firmly holding it, before tipping it slightly upwards.

He slightly moved forward a few inches.

“Allow me, to ‘prove’ this then?”

“You’re joking, there’s no way!”

You felt your face heat up within each movement, his face closing in on yours.

Wait, was he-?

There was an audible gasp from your classmate, and the rest of the class, who watched intensely. The Champion… with the Professor’s son?

Warm lips pressed against your cold ones, the heat transferring with ease. You faintly heard Arven murmur something, but couldn’t decipher what it was at that moment. His left hand was still on your shoulder, right one gently caressing your hair from earlier in class.

Something within you coiled tightly with embarrassment, as his tongue -wet and hot - pushed through your sweet lips, and right into your mouth.

There was no doubt a brilliant red blush was spreading from the bridge of your nose to the tip of your ears.

Arven’s tongue with no doubt was dominant enough, as you weren’t quite experienced enough with kissing. His saliva dripped from the files of tastebuds, the maneuver made with so much care. Arven clearly needed more of you to savor, yet gently explored your mouth for flavor.

As for his taste?

God, you couldn’t get enough from the spicy remnants of the Tomato berries he usually cooks with. You could remember seeing him, sitting on his bed, watching with wide eyes as he bit straight into one, juice slightly spilling to the sides of his mouth.

(“It‘s about the way you handle an extreme flavor,” Arven said.

“Handling in it that way?” You asked skeptically. “No way, a death sentence for me.”

Your upperclassman grinned at you. “Wanna try it out? I’m pretty good at least giving love to some.”

You ponder for a moment, before embarrassment fills your stomach. The realization hit you like a bat to a ball, stupidly.

“Don’t even! I would never give that a try!”)

You denied ever wanting to kiss him just for handling a flavor…

Yet here you are.

Absolutely a hypocrite wanting more, wanting to know where that hand sliding down your back was going, wanting to give the same treatment to Arven. After all, he hasn’t been loved in so long…

“Oí!”

Arven broke the kiss off, looking into the direction where the exclamation was made me.

And boy was it embarrassing, as you turned too.

“I know we sometimes want to show affection to others,” Mr. Salvatore looked very flushed at the sight of the scene, “-but please… keep it calm for the sake of your classmates eyes.”

You were sure your face was now ruby red by now, if not, caused by the heat of the kiss too.

Arven didn’t seem too bashed by this, but his cheeks were flustered pink too. “Yes, Mr. Salvatore,” he said.

“Now… I can safely say, the school day is over. Take a break my students…” Salvatore trailed off. He beckoned for you and Arven to leave immediately, obviously trying very hard not to say anything else. It was the first time he hadn’t used his various languages.

You bowed your head, face feeling as though it were on fire. Arven had just…

Just casually kissed you on the mouth? What was his logic in needing to prove something? Couldn’t you both have just pulled out a photo taken together?

Arven’s grip was still firmly in place on your shoulder. He looked back at their shocked classmates, and waved with a flashy smile.

“Is that all you needed Hirano? Not much to ask for, as Y/N is my partner after all.”

All Hirano could do was look at you with a dumb expression, mouth opening and closing like a Magikarp.

“But they didn’t-? How are you both dating?”

Arven frowned at this, reaching for your hand, grabbing it. He pulls you right against him, before leading you out of class.

Your mind can’t help but process a dozen explanations why Arven kissed you. It definitely wasn’t accidental: he was very intimate in the way he handled it. He couldn’t really be in love with you…

Right?

“Llamando me un mentiroso… cabrones van a pagar después.”

Arven murmured phrases like these as you both went up the staircase. Definitivamente no estuvo bien feliz.

“A-Arven?”

“They have the nerve to even talk to me like that, even after all that I’ve been through with their shit!”

“Arven?” You asked a little more loudly.

“Not to mention, treating you like some sort of prize… they don’t see your real beauty and personality!”

“-Arven?”

“What!?”

You recoiled at the response, as though he had hit you. Arven NEVER snapped at you, even when he was absolutely livid at someone.

“…”

He looked at you for a few moments, before realizing what he had just done.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine…” you murmured.

“It’s not fine.”

It was a moment before you realized you were in front of Arven’s dorm.

“Why are we here?” You interrupted the numerous mutters of apologizes.

“Que? Supongo que yo quise…”

The blush from earlier was turning a Tomato berry shade. Arven fidgeted with his backpack strap, before sighing.

“He made me jealous, alright? You’re just my little buddy Y/N, and you know I don’t like it when people get so close to you…”

“-Because you’re afraid to lose me to someone else?”

He blinked. “How did you guess? Como adivinaste?”

You decided not to point out the bunch of obvious points. Arven was adorable trying to communicate his feelings, yet delaying a confession about it because of his actions.

Not to mention, his obsession.

“Penny told me that too, since the jerks who bullied her told her she wasn’t worth it for my friendship.”

“…”

Arven didn’t say anything: he had a strange faraway look on his face. You look at him with curiosity, wondering what he was thinking.

“Well, that’s not the point here.”

“Then what is? You told me you brung me here for a reason, que es?”

“-ddle.”

“Huh?”

Your upperclassman inhaled deeply, exhaling softly. He turned away, looking at the floor.

“I want… to cuddle.”

What in Arceus!?

Arven wanted to cuddle? Did you hear correctly?

“Cuddle? As in, a sort of thing you’d do with Mabosstiff?” you asked.

There was a soft sigh. Arven didn’t wait for a reply, merely opening the door to his dorm. He beckoned for you to get inside, and you stepped in.

Of course this dorm was familiar. You had been here many times, swayed by the delicious aroma of cooking, awed by how much yellow there was, inquisitive about all the items Arven had. Especially that raincoat he had. If it weren’t obvious enough from the weather, Arven loved going out and playing in the rain with Mabosstiff.

There was a soft click! as the door closed. You took off your small backpack and set it down near the coat hanger, along with your shoes. Arven did the same, only picking up your bag to actually hang it. It was a small gesture, but certainly a kind one.

He took off his puffy jacket as well (on the coat hanger it went), only to throw his tie across the room with mere care.

“A lot hasn’t changed.”

“Except Poké Beans I got for a deal while there was an auction.”

You went over to Arven’s bed, only slightly turning a corner the wall had, containing the entrance for the bathroom.

“Even the bedsheets are the same.”

“I’m surprised que te lo memorizaste,” Arven lightly teased.

“Cállate.”

You flopped onto the bed, mainly stretching your legs, and keeping your arms tucked into your chest. After all, it was slightly cold in Arven’s dorm. He probably had the best air conditioning room in the academy.

“No Burmy talk here.”

Footsteps approached the bed, and you close your eyes as Arven’s hand runs through your hair. Arceus did it feel satisfying after a hard day at school… and all the worries that had filled your brain.

You had never mentioned Arven’s obsession with you. At first, you assumed it was because you became Champion. After all, who doesn’t like a little fame from their companion?

But you had noticed the intimate actions he took. For example, hugs completely out of nowhere, possessive behavior that drove you insane, and even a protective hand over your shoulder when someone suggested you go with them.

Without your upperclassman.

Still, he had sometimes pushed himself away for no reason, but then came back begging for attention.

What did he really want? Not to mention, merely minutes ago, he had just asked to cuddle?

“Arven?”

Arven hummed, implying to go on. The way he ruffled your hair so gently… you shook your head, trying not to sleep.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re you being so… close? First, you kiss me to prove a point. A worthless one. Then, you tell me… you want to cuddle…”

Your face flushed at the last phrase, and you covered your face with your hands.

Silence stretched throughout the room, as the only thing you could hear was the light buzzing sound of the air conditioning. Arven stopped ruffling your hair, hand completely motionless.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“How come?” You quipped.

Almost immediately, you wished you didn’t say those words. Arven’s hand started shaking, before it pulled away.

“I said, you wouldn’t understand Y/N. You’re so naive,” he whispered.

You lifted yourself up, looking at him. Arven was looking directly at you, his mouth trembling.

“Arven, please-”

“You don’t understand!” He suddenly yelled.

“What don’t I understand!?” You said with frustration.

“Anything about me! You don’t understand shit about me! Nor do you really care about my feelings! I know you don’t but you really pretend you do, and I hate it so much! I hate it that you don’t love me the way you do!”

You stared in disbelief at this declaration of the outburst. None of that was true! Nada fue la verdad!

“Arven, por favor!”

“I love you so much goddammit, you’re so willing to be able to care for me, so willing to hear about my problems, the light to my dark when I was lost!”

“And I know you know that I have these feelings for you! I just wish you would tell me, I’m so sick of having to show how much I care for you back! I know what’s best for you!”

“ARVEN, LISTEN TO ME!” You finally raised your voice.

He paused for a moment, his breathing hitched.

“What you’re saying isn’t true at all! I love you too, you make me feel like I’m such an important person to someone!“

You looked down at the yellow sheets, hand picking at them. Why… why do you feel like this?

Aren’t you supposed to be feeling happy and giddy telling Arven you love him? Aren’t you supposed to be over the moon knowing he’d go to any lengths for you? Then why do you have this unsettling feeling deep down?

Is this the same fear that took you over…

After that one day where he bashed Hirano’s friends skull repeatedly against the wall, until he fainted? All because of planting his hand on your shoulder?

“Y/N?”

“Do you really mean it?”

How could you?

You couldn’t reject his now said out loud declaration of love. That would be such a cruel thing to do. Arven never had love because of his family- only some for Mabosstiff, because it was his partner Pokémon.

“I-I do…!”

“…”

“Me too. I love you, I love you so much.”

“About your cuddles?” You were keen to change the love tone-

The only response you received was Arven finally swinging up his legs onto the bed, snuggling up to you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other freely going up to caress your hair once more. He curled one leg over yours, making sure to tighten his grip.

“You’re so perfect,” he muttered.

You said nothing. Your hand reached to touch his (the one on your waist), intertwining fingers slightly.

“You deserve all the love.”

Arven nuzzled his head into your neck, his curly hair lightly tickling your ear. His hot breath spread over your body, warming you right up.

At that moment, all you could really do was go to sleep with him, drifting off with the warmth of his body right next to yours.

In the morning however, you wouldn’t be so lucky. Arven didn’t like to wake up early, and you had to stay in the cuddling position for at least two more hours.

If you ever moved, he was yank you right back into the embrace. Arven would murmur phrases in Spanish, telling you how much he wanted to do this.

How could you refuse?

Arven ached for love after all these years.

#pokémon scarvio #pokemon arven #arven x reader #arven is adorable #yandere arven #fluff #will continue #just let me eat #possessive behavior #answered asks #asks answered #short one shot #cuddling #pokemon salvatore

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star-star-fall-inlove · 1 year

Text

Salvation

Star-Star-Fall-inlove's NOTE

Dark content ahead

Yandere theme, blood, violence, sexual acts, r@pe , Female reader, Gore

Demon au

Introduction

☆ Summary: You were brought to the orphanage when you were just a toddler by your mother. You can't exactly remember what life was with her and you do not wish to know. All you know is that you've lived in the orphanage for the longest time. You enjoyed your time here, yeah at the beginning it wasn't so great. You were as rebellious as they can get! But that's over and done now. You were passing by an alley way on your way home when you caught the smell of blood coming from it. You stopped and stared at the alley for a while before stepping forward and walking down the alley The Father of a church you go to a lot has always warned you to never follow the smell of blood at night. But you felt as though you had to, what if that person was hurt? No, you're going to help them no matter what! But why was your hands shaking so much?

When you got closer to the smell what you saw horrified you to no end.

— — — — ☆ — — — —

Okay! Character background time!

Y/N

Age: 20

Race: Human

She was brought to a orphanage as a toddler and lived there ever since. She likes to cook and bake. She comes of as innocent and naive which is not true She knows about this world and the things they do, she prays that everything will get better everyday.

"When is my salvation going to come, lord?"

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Age: 239

Race: Noble Devil of wrath

A demon who values rules and order. He has a bit of temper and lashes out anything or anyone in his way. Cruel to the eye but broken in the heart.

"You went against a simple rule. Do you not understand the situation your in?"

Trey Clover

Age: 254

Race: Demon

A demon with human traits it's easy to be fooled by him, that's why he's dangerous. He'll sweeten you up and get close to you before he takes what he wants.

"You should have known that dear, you are in this house aren't you?"

Cater Diamond

Age: 248

Race: Incubus

Cater is incubus that doesn't seem like one! You would have thought they were Nothing but flirty beast who tries to get in your pants. Which is not wrong at all. He just doesn't talk about it as much. Anyway Cater is a manipulator so be careful because it doesn't mean he wouldn't try anything with you

"Why don't you stay a little longer~ it won't be that bad"

Ace Trappola

Age: 166

Race: Demon fox

A smart mouth demon who absolutely hates when people disrespect him. And you seem to love to do that the most.

"Didn't I tell you already to stop praying? Its annoying!"

Deuce Spade

Age: 166

Race: Grim reaper

A entity that leads the souls to the place they belong in heaven or hell. He likes to go to the human world and look around.

"Life is a beautiful thing..."

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

Age: 320

Race: Noble Devil Beast of Sloth

The Devil of Sloth, as the names says he a very lazy person who likes to sleep a lot. He doesn't care who he hurts as Long as he gets what he wants. If you wake him up from his nap you'll most definitely regret it

"Herbivore you got some nerve...I like it"

Ruggie Bucchi

Age: 247

Race: Demon Beast

A demon beast kinda like what Ace is except Ace gets his own title. Anyway he seems to always be by Leona's side. There were a few occasions where he wasn't. He's a little mischievous, He especially enjoys messing with you

"You smell delicious...you wouldn't mind if I had a bite right?"

Jack Howl

Age: 171

Race: Demon Beast

He's the eyes and nose of the group there is nothing he can't find. He has strong sense of justice and u find it weird since he's a demon and all- He's like the demon Hound except he's a wolf. It's really hard for him control himself around you. You always have this feeling like someone or something is watching you...how uncomfortable.

"Don't worry you'll be safe with me"

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

Age: 289

Race: Noble Devil of Greed

He wants it all. He want your body heart and soul so give it to him. You belong to him and he'll make sure you understand that. Other then that he's usually plotting not kidding. He also likes to give information to the others for money and if it's for free that means he's up to something. He wants nothing more than to see you trapped and stripped of all rights. Nothing but a doll....

"You've done this to yourself don't blame me"

Jade Leech

Age: 289

Race: Water spirit

He also likes to see you uncomfortable like no cap he would most definitely feed you weird mushrooms for sure. You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared of him. He's always smiling at you ..yeah no

"Hello Y/N good afternoon"

Floyd Leech

Age: 289

Race: Water spirit

He's weird...and his emotions always change, one moment he's nice and the next he's mean. It scares you, he would also hug you to tightly practically leaving bruises on your skin

"Aw..Are you done already?"

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim

Age: 257

Race: Noble Devil of Gluttony

He's oddly nice to you? He makes you nervous but comfortable it's weird. But you got to comfortable around and started to spell things. You thought you could trust him...oh how you were wrong...

"I'm only doing this for your own good Y/N! Don't be at me...please.."

Jamil Viper

Age: 258

Race: Snake Demon

You don't trust him...He's always smiling around you but you know there is more to him, you were right. One day he just snapped, he broke you in many places. He's not like Kalim, he's much more cruel

"Shh shh it hurts me as much as it hurts you, now stay still"

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

Age: 321

Race: Noble Incubus of Lust

He is famous for his looks, very popular among females. He seems to have this obsession with dressing you up and doing your make up and hair. Pretty much he wants to control your life and make you perfect.

"You look absolutely beautiful...so stop crying your going to ruin your makeup"

Rook Hunt

Age: 321

Race: Grim Reaper

He's literally watching you, he can hear you and knows things about you too. So it's impossible to escape on his watch at this point. But he enjoys give you hope and then taking it at the last minute

"Manquer, it's futile to escape us"

Epel Felmier

Age: 165

Race: Demon

How could such a small beautiful boy be so foul mouthed? You would have mistaken him for an angel. You may have mistaken him for a lady once...yeah not a good thing

"Shut up! Ughh I can't stand your yapping!"

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Age: 333

Race: Noble Fire Devil of Envy

He's always alone and he seems so sad. Even tho he's a demon you decided to talk to him...what a mistake

"Your the only one who cares for me....Your mine"

Ortho Shroud

Age:???

Race:???

He's a lot nicer to you then he's brother. But make sure you don't say any ill things around him about Idia, it won't be pretty if you did

"I'm sorry"

Diasonmia

Malleus Draconia

Age:???

Race: Noble Dragon Demon of Pride

Why is so overwhelming sweet with you? And he's awfully clingy now don't get me wrong at first we was cold with you. But he eventually got use to you and now he's attached to you...hm you may be able to use him to escape...we'll have to see

"I love you Y/N, Please say the same to me"

Lilia Vanrouge

Age: ???

Race: Bat Demon(Vampire)

He's the man who got you in this situation.. you should have never trusted him from the beginning..But he was so pitiful..Hahaha foolish little Y/N

"Your absolutely perfect, he'd enjoy you as much as I do"

Silver

Age: 226

Race: Fallen Angel

He was different.. he didn't treat you horrible in fact he didn't talk to you at all. He was mostly sleep tbh but when you guys did talk he would give you advice, you really should listen

"Don't go in that room, it's not something you would like to see"

Sebek Zigvolt

Age: 199

Race: Lightning Demon

He was horrible, there was never a day he would miss to curse the hell out of you. Mf would call you names at every second and yell at you at the tinest of things you did wrong def needs to take a chill pill. I'm not joking this guy hates you!! Like he can't understand why your so weak and have the guts to talk back???

"Shut up you weak filthy human! You know not a thing!!"

------------‐----------------☆

AYEEE ITS GOING TO BE DIABOLIK LOVERS ALL OVER AGAIN!!! SO PREPARE FOR POSSIBLE CRINGEE

I've actually been working on this since last year- but like i stopped and now I'm back at it lol (>v<)

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Asymmetry

an anonymous commission <;33

Haitani Ran x female reader x Haitani Rindou

wc 3.8k

tw infidelity(ish?), yandere vibes, implied violence, toxic relationships

The idea of soulmates sounds so lovely in your head.

The name that graces the skin of your forearm is supposed to be a gift. A blessing bestowed on the few; a partner born to love them in a way nobody else could ever hope to match.

That’s certainly how it was for your grandparents, for the sweet couple who live down the hall from you.

A shame then, that your reality is far less rose tinted.

—

The woman behind the counter doesn’t ask any questions when you arrive ten minutes early, cash in hand and a nervous expression on your face.

“There’s no undoing this once it’s done,” she tells you, leading you out into the dingy back parlour, complete with yellowed, flickering fluorescents overhead. “And it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Undeterred, you nod. “I know.”

There’s a lone seat in the centre of the room, an old school style barber’s chair, covered in worn red leather and stretched out into a reclining position. Not for ease of access or to make you more comfortable during the procedure, but because once she injects the serum into your arm, the pain’s more than likely going to cause you to pass out.

At least, that’s what you’d read.

No one bothered to sugar coat this. The process of removing one’s soulmate mark isn’t to be taken lightly – the few genuine articles you’d managed to scrounge up had painted a grim picture. You’re ripping away a piece of yourself, obliterating a bond you were born with, or at least any visible sign of it; of course it’s going to hurt.

It’ll be agony.

Jerking her chin towards the seat and watching you awkwardly clamber on up, the woman sighs, “You know, if this is all ‘cause you and the boyfriend had a big, blowout fight–”

“It’s not,” you hasten to assure her, though you doubt she genuinely cares one way or the other. More likely, she just doesn’t want you coming back and complaining if in two weeks you suddenly decide you’re blissfully in love again.

Fat chance of that happening.

—

You sent him a message once.

Late at night, at your best friend’s giggling insistence. It was only a line or two, a tentative hand reached out across the internet.

I know this is kinda out of the blue, but I think you might be my soulmate?

If he ever saw it, he didn’t bother to reply.

—

“Holy fuck, you’re Rin’s girl!”

The delighted cackle doesn’t put your heart at ease, nor do the fingers tightly gripping your wrist, wrenching it back at an awkward angle to get a better look.

“W-what?”

In your defence, nothing about this situation makes much sense.

Your date is lying hunched over and moaning on the pavement, having made the mistake of accidentally knocking into the tattooed blond currently cutting off circulation in your arm as the two of you were exiting your train.

And you’re sure that he’d been about to hit you too, a wild look in his eyes as he’d whirled – only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of your forearm. Or, more specifically, the shimmering letters of the name etched into said forearm.

Haitani Rindou.

“The fuck you doing with this asshole?” he laughs, easing his grip only when a small, discomforted noise escapes you. That amusement, however, fades when he regards your date once more, “You blind or something? Messing ‘round with a taken woman – one who’s got a damn soulmate at that? You that fuckin’ desperate to get your dick wet?”

Another vicious kick to his midsection, and your date grunts while you watch on in mute horror.

The blond spits on him for good measure, turning back to face you with a wide grin. “Ignore him. Name’s Madarame, you wanna come meet your soulmate?”

In hindsight, the massive red flags there should’ve been your first sign to run.

You hadn’t, though. Partially because the arm Madarame slung over your shoulder gave you very little choice in the matter, but mostly because despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wanted this.

How could you not?

It occurs to you, as the blond leads you through the streets of Shinjuku, that there’s every chance he’s lying, that you’ve essentially followed a violent, quite possibly unhinged delinquent off to god knows where, and if you end up dead in an alleyway tonight you’ll only have yourself and your stupid romantic idealism to blame.

Thankfully, though, the two of you arrive at a neon lit bar near Kabukicho. Apprehension flutters in your stomach, a potent mix of fear and excitement, and it must show on your face because Madarame winks, holding the door open for you. “Ladies first.”

You’ve dreamed of meeting your Rindou a hundred times before, thousands. Of meet cutes where you’d stumble over each other in a coffee shop, or on a night out dancing with your friends. Maybe he’d track you down somehow, and you’d find him nervously waiting for you out the front of your work one afternoon, flowers in hand.

The specifics were always up in the air, ever changing. The one thing that remained a constant was that you’d recognize him the moment you saw him. You’d just know.

And you do. Sitting in a booth towards the back of the bar, nursing a glass of clear amber liquid, violet eyes meet yours and you physically feel the pleasant zing of electricity that shoots through you as your heart skips a beat.

It’s as if the rest of the world falls away. You’re not sure if you’re even breathing, standing there, softly gaping at your soulmate from across the room. Doesn’t matter, you don’t need oxygen.

You don’t need anything.

He’s… beautiful. There’s no other word for it. Hooded, violet eyes with long, fair eyelashes that sweep along his cheekbones. His jaw’s sharp, lips a soft cupid's bow. Even his hair – blond streaked with pale blue, carelessly pulled back into a bun – isn’t as jarring as it should be. It suits him.

So swept up in the moment, you fail to notice the long legged, dark haired beauty who saunters across the floor and settles into the booth beside him. Until painted red lips press against his jaw in a sultry kiss, that is, her hand slipping beneath the table to stroke at his thigh.

“Rin, baby, I’m bored,” she pouts.

Your stomach flips, the bright smile that’d appeared unbeknownst to you freezing upon your visage.

“Aren’tcha gonna go say hi?” Madarame snickers, giving you a little push that has you stumbling awkwardly forward.

People are staring now. Your mouth opens, then closes, cheeks burning as you glance between the two of them.

You need to do something – move, leave, speak; anything – and yet the longer you stand there under the weight of that bored gaze, the more you flounder.

Rationally, you know you have no right to the hurt that tightens in your chest at the sight of another girl pawing at him. You don’t own him anymore than he owns you, soulmates or not you’re still strangers, and you can hardly criticise him for doing something you yourself were guilty of.

You know all that, and it doesn’t lessen the sting any.

“Shion, don’t be rude,” a new voice interrupts. Dragging your eyes from your soulmate, you notice a taller man with braids approaching, a grin tugging at familiar looking features.

Rindou’s brother, you guess, judging from those startling, violet eyes boring into you.

“It’s not every day we get to meet Rin’s lovely little soulmate.”

You think it might have been better if someone just came up and slapped you across the face instead.

He… knows who you are? Which would mean that–

Jerking your head back to Rindou and the woman (his girlfriend? Lover? Fling?) you don’t know what you’re expecting to see. Cold apathy, however, isn’t it.

“I–” you begin, unsure of what exactly it is that you’re trying to say.

In the end, it makes no difference. He’s already turning his attention back to the girl to mumble something in her ear that has her giggling, brushing you off without so much as a word.

As if you’re nothing.

Something within your heart cracks, jagged edges catching with every breath you force into your lungs. It’s not merely a dismissal, it’s an outright rejection – of you, your bond, everything.

He doesn’t want you.

He doesn’t even know you and he doesn’t want you.

Your whole life you’ve waited for this moment, built it up in your head, imagined it every which way. How it would feel to see him for the first time, the conversations the two of you would share, the life you’d lead together.

Dreamed of what it would be like to be loved like that, unconditionally, unwavering, with every inch of their being.

This is more than cruel, this is the shattering of your very foundations – and it’s playing out like a tragedy for his friends at the bar to drink down and revel in.

Hot, fat tears well up, glistening at your waterline, a thick lump of choked back emotions sitting heavy in your throat.

Making a split second decision, you try to step back, to flee, taking your bitter, burning humiliation with you, only Madarame seems to have anticipated the move, placing himself between you and the door, blocking your exit.

Rindou’s brother, now directly in front of you, smiles delightedly at your stricken expression. “Don’t be shy, now,” he says, extending a pale, long fingered hand. “He’s just dying to meet you.”

—

The universe, you decide, is a cruel, hateful thing.

You’d spent hours stuck at that bar; Rindou ignoring you in favour of the voluptuous brunette on his lap, his brother Ran pouring you drink after drink, perfectly content with carrying on a one-sided conversation with you whilst you sat hands balled into fists in your lap, willing yourself not to cry.

Without a doubt, it was the single worst night of your life, and still, upon returning back to your apartment and collapsing into a fit of heart wrenching sobs, you resolved that you’d find some way of coming to terms with it.

Your soulmate didn’t love you, didn’t want you. That didn’t have to mean your life was over. Plenty of people found love and happiness without a soulmate, who’s to say that you couldn’t do the same after the dust and tears settle?

Perhaps the universe chose wrong and the mark on your arm was never meant to exist in the first place, like a calf born with two heads, destined to die through the night.

You weren’t going to beg for love, not from someone who so clearly wanted nothing to do with you. What else was left for you to do but pick up the broken pieces of yourself and move on as best you could?

That’s how it was supposed to have gone. One awful night you’d strive to forget, a name on your arm that didn’t truly belong to you.

And perhaps it might have, if not for Haitani Ran.

—

You’re burning from the inside out, mouth locked open in a soundless shriek, violently thrashing against the chair’s restraints.

They promised you’d pass out.

Oh god, why won’t you pass out?

—

There’s a mark on Ran’s arm too, elegant script laying out another girl’s name. Sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his arm dangling from your shoulder, it’s hard to ignore.

Once upon a time, either in the days following your initial message or at some point before that, Rindou had looked you up.

(Decided you weren’t worth it.)

You wonder distantly whether Ran’s done the same for her. Whether he cares at all about the girl – woman, you suppose – bound to him, because he certainly doesn’t act like it when he’s around you.

“I lost my job today,” you murmur, staring vacantly off in the direction Rin and this week’s fling had disappeared.

This one had the nerve to throw you a smug little grin as she passed, as if it was some big victory to be fucking your soulmate. He won’t remember her name once they’re done, if he bothered to learn it in the first place.

She, like the string of others before her, will be gone before long, nothing more than a pretty set of holes for him to fuck and forget about.

Perhaps more surprising was that Rindou had also glanced your way, expression tight, the faintest hint of agitation showing in the set of his jaw.

An agitation that remained, even as his features shifted into an arrogant smirk at having caught you looking back.

Ran, having been in the midst of scrolling through your phone, sets it down upon the table and raises an eyebrow, “Mm?”

You nod, “Yeah. One of my coworkers was jumped last night, two guys broke his leg, beat him up pretty bad. Turns out he’s my boss's son, and they seemed to think it had something to do with me.”

“Huh,” he says, making no attempt to hide the mirth that dances in his eyes. “Two birds with one stone, colour me impressed.”

You’re not seeking confirmation, you already know it was them.

Just like when one of your best friends had been mysteriously attacked on his way home from the gym. Or your neighbour, who used to smile and strike up a conversation whenever you’d pass each other in the hallway.

Your jaw tightens, so too does the grip you have on the drink he’d poured for you. “Why?”

“Why what?”

And like a cord wound too tight, the pressure of the last few weeks suddenly explodes without warning, and you roughly shoulder his arm off of you.

“Why all of it!” you cry. “Why you hurt them! Why you care who I talk to or what I do! Why you’re obsessed with hanging around like an overgrown parasite, ruining my life when Rin–” you break off with a shuddering gasp, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you furiously blink back tears.

When Rin’s made it so abundantly clear he doesn’t want you.

Long, lithe fingers grab at your chin, forcefully turning your head towards his.

Nestled into his side, close enough that the warmth of his breath kisses your neck with every exhale, he nudges his nose against yours, a wry smile twitching at his lips.

“There really isn’t a single brain cell in that pretty little head of yours, is there,” he says, flicking your forehead for good measure. “Why do you think?”

—

Caught between a soulmate who doesn’t want you, and the brother who keeps you leashed regardless, you learn very quickly the kind of men the Haitani brothers are.

Their sadistic, violent impulses of course come as no surprise, but you soon realise that that’s only the very tip of the iceberg.

Extortion, assault, drugs, robberies, prostitution, senseless, rampant killing; it seems there’s no limit to the lengths they’ll go to in the name of expansion. They don’t try to hide it from you. No, you’d go so far as to say the pair get a kick out of seeing you flinch and baulk over the grisly details.

As much as hearing about it chills you to the bone, what truly scares you isn’t the crimes they’ve already committed.

It’s the knowledge that no matter how much power or territory they gain, they’ll always want more. That one day they plan on running this city, and to achieve that they’ll inevitably – gladly – do so much worse.

It’s the thought that you might end up trapped here between them, forced to bear witness as your soulmate warps and twists into something wholly unrecognisable.

—

The final nail in the coffin comes the day you’re walking back to your apartment, and you realise that you’re being followed.

A big guy in a dark hoodie, tattooed hands stuffed into the pockets, an ugly scar slashed across his cheek.

You’ve seen him before – watching you on the platform at Shibuya station a few days back, and again yesterday as you were exiting the 7-Eleven a block down from the Haitanis’ apartment.

And it’s enough to have your blood running cold, fear taking root deep inside of you.

Enough that you’re frantically swiping open your phone, quickening your pace.

The phone rings once, twice–

“Ran’s busy. What?”

The voice isn’t the one you’re expecting; your heart leaps at the sound of it. “Rin, I– there’s some big, tattooed guy following me. I-I think I’ve seen him before.”

You’re not sure what it is that you’re expecting him to do. Rindou could be anywhere in the city, tied up with other, more important things. And that’s assuming he’d care enough to lift a finger in the first place.

Ran would, you think.

He’d almost snapped a guy’s wrist the other night for trying to cop a feel of your ass. Whatever fucked up kind of relationship he imagines he has with you, it’s certainly edged with a streak of possessiveness.

You’re not so sure the same can be said of your soulmate.

Images flash to mind; your body, lying bruised and battered, hooked up to beeping monitors in hospital. Worse – found in a back alley dumpster, used and discarded with yesterday’s trash.

On the other end of the line, Rindou curses softly.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” and the call goes dead.

He… hung up.

Your soulmate hung up on you.

There’s a noose around your neck, tightening with each passing beat. Your heart hammers so violently against your rib cage that you physically feel sick.

You called him for help, terrified, and he’d hung up on you.

Spying a 24-hour FamilyMart on the other side of the street, you dart across the road as quick as your legs’ll take you – barely managing to dodge the car that slams on its breaks to avoid hitting you.

The teenager restocking the shelves gives you an odd look as you scramble inside, shaking and nearly in tears. It shifts quickly when she follows your gaze and catches sight of your bona fide stalker, lurking on the other side of the glass, sliding doors.

Yet rather than entering the store, the man simply grins, gold teeth glinting in the low light, lifts two fingers to his temple, and salutes.

—

Rindou’s waiting at your apartment when you return, furiously pacing back and forth inside your living room.

Wastes no time in asking if you’re okay, or offering up comfort, merely snatches at your chin, roughly tilting your face this way and that until he’s satisfied with whatever it is he sees.

“Tell me everything,” he grits out, and once you’re finished, voice trembling and your nerves shot to pieces, he makes you tell it to him again.

He leaves, as he always does, without a goodbye, the sound of the locks on your front door clicking into place echoing in his wake.

—

You used to think disappearing would be enough.

Rindou wouldn’t care to stop you, and if you were meticulous in your planning, Ran wouldn’t have the chance to try.

You’d leave Tokyo, pick up a life somewhere else. If anyone asked about the name on your arm, you’d tell them your soulmate died before you met him, an accident, or a terrible childhood illness. A tragedy yes, but nothing insurmountable.

You could find another way to be happy.

Now, you know better. As long as those letters grace your arm, you’ll never be able to escape the Haitanis influence. There’ll always be a target on your back, a chain around your ankle, trailing right back to Tokyo and the brothers you left behind.

So you found a way to erase them.

—

“You trust us, don’t you?”

The question’s posed to you by the elder Haitani, perched at the foot of your bed, one foot idly dangling off the side of your mattress. His brother leans casually up against the open door frame.

Startled awake in the middle of the night, you lacked both the time and the foresight to hide your arm from their prying gaze. Your deception – your betrayal – laid bare for them to discover while you slept on, blissfully oblivious.

Now, cradling it to your chest, your knees tucked up close, you eye the two warily. Nothing about this situation puts you at ease, least of all the conversational tone he’s adopted.

Ran doesn’t want an answer, at least, not a genuine one. For all their faults, neither he nor Rindou are delusional to the point of believing that you in any way trust them. That you’ve gone to such lengths in the first place speaks plenty to that.

No, he wants to draw this out, a cat toying with a mouse before it strikes the killing blow. And like that mouse, caught between sharp claws and vicious grins, the only option you have left is to play dead in the hope that your predators soon lose interest.

Swallowing down the nauseating fear creeping up your throat (or is that bile?) you offer a tiny nod. Ran smiles approvingly, but it’s Rindou, pushing himself off the wall with a huff, who speaks next.

“You know I felt it – when you went through with it,” he tells you, stalking over to your bed. His eyes are cold, hard. And it’s ice, you think, not fire that burns in those pretty, violet hues as he braces an arm on the wooden headboard and leans in, “Knocked me flat on my ass, honestly thought I was dying there for a sec.”

As if in response, the skin where his name used to lie prickles, goosebumps rising to the surface.

“I-I’m sorry.” Clumsily, the words spill from your mouth – an impulsive attempt to appease them. “I didn’t think–”

He snorts, “Yeah, that much is obvious.”

The petty insult finds its home despite your best efforts to ignore it, blood heating your cheeks.

Once again, it’s his older brother who jumps to your so-called defence; “Aw, c’mon Rindou, don’t be so mean.” Ran clicks his tongue in mock sympathy, “Poor little idiot just made a mistake, that’s all.”

“A… mistake?” you echo.

The amusement fades from his features, the look in those dark, hooded eyes near caustic as they slide back to you, “She knows she fucked up, and she’s gonna let us fix it, aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” you manage to utter, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

But it’s Rindou, lips brushing along the shell of your ear, who hammers the final nail home, “You try leaving us again, and next time it won’t just be some tattoos marking up that pretty skin, understand?”

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere haitani rindou #yandere haitani ran #yandere ran x reader #yandere rindou x reader #yandere haitani ran x reader #yandere haitani rindou x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #idk what else to tag this with #anyway y'all wanted soulmates #y'all got soulmates #<33

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euphoricfilter · 11 months

Text

like crazy ~ part two [teaser]

read here

☆ﾟpart two of four

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || friends to lovers || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au || college au || slight yandere au? ||

summary: the story of how the universe sent you Namjoon

word count: estimated 9-10k

tags/ warnings: gang leader! namjoon, fluff, a lot more love, angst, namjoon is tatted up, death/ murder, mentions of blood, mentioned sex trafficking, mentioned drugs, obsessive relationship, smut in the forms of: dom/ sub themes— kinda mean-ish dom! namjoon, lots of hickies, spitting in a mouth :), biting, strangely feral sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), pull out method (again, don’t be stupid), doggy style, squirting, the briefest ass play, implied/planned aftercare!! because namjoon isn’t heartless

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

Namjoon was the epitome of obsession, it coursed through his veins just as much as blood did.

He was comparable to a magpie, though his form of treasure was delicate little beings like you that he liked to lock up. And watch as you dance for him behind the bars of a cage, eyes piercing into your very soul until it melts and he mends you back together again.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Namjoon frowns, slouching back into his chair.

You lay the book over your chest, heart-wrenching deja vu tickling your insides. “It’s just work. The old lady that owns the place is lowering our pay”

Namjoon hums, “Why don’t you quit?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his face.

“Quit?” you sit up, eyebrows furrowing, “I probably have enough saved for a couple of weeks but after that I’m done for. It’s not like I’m paying rent anymore”

Namjoon pushes himself to stand, slinking around his desk to stand before you, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to work anymore, I’ve got the both of us”

You shake your head, “Namjoon I can’t do that” you tell him, leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses your jaw.

“And why not?” He crouches down, head tilting in a way that is so very much Namjoon.

“It’s unfair on you. Plus, I’m capable of taking care of myself”

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I know you are, but why have all the added stress when I’m more than happy to do this for us”

Some days Namjoon seemed awfully normal. Integrated perfectly into society, just like the rest of human kind. And some days you found it scary how ordinary he seemed when you knew of the things he did. He always seemed so in control of his own mind, thoughts easily articulated into convincing words, dressed proper, a kind smile.

It was unnerving how someone so perfect was so very much the evil that you fear as a child. The grim reaper who melts into the darkess, takes a life and thinks no more of that pitiful being’s existence as he stalks through the night ready to chew on another soul.

Maybe it was blissful ignorance that had chained you to him. If he were the being that men feared then it was only smart to latch onto him, to pretend he didn’t do all these bad things and let him squeeze his way into your heart. For you to be docile and quiet and everything he wanted from you. Even if his love hurt, thick shards of glass piercing their way into your heart and your mind and your body and your soul.

Release date: wednesday 31st of may @ 10pm BST

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angelettecloud10 · 11 months

Text

💜Yandere Azul Ashengrotto Idea💜

Ok After Watching The Little Mermaid (Classic Ver.) I remember Ursula Disguises herself as Vanessa to trick Eric that she saved him from drowning and who sang for him when he woke up after being unconscious

Then Poses to Marry Eric to Prevent Ariel from succeeding the Spell to be Human

Now here's an Idea:

Yandere Azul Ashengrotto x Fem. MC x Prince Rielle (The Little Mermaid/Merman AU)

Prince Rielle Longed to join the Surface World and Bond with the Humans Above the Ocean of Twisted Wonderland

That is until he get's Offered to Attend RSA as a Student along with his Friends (Twst ver. Of the Disney Princess) although His Father (King Triton) doesn't fully agree to this and in Frustration Rielle swims off to the Surface there He Meets MC on a Small Cruise Ship with her Fellow NRC friends having a Spring Break Party (Kinda Like how Eric was Celebrating his Birthday but this is the First Day of Spring and perfect for a Cruise Party)

With the Young Prince now curious of the Female Student he wanted to learn more about her (or as you can say it was Love at First Sight) and what would it be like to be Part of Her World.

Unfortunately Someone on the Other Hand has taken interest in the Female Prefect . . . Azul Ashengrotto . . . he sought to make MC his Promised but Notices Rielle Snooping in that case gave Azul the very key for his plan to achieve

During the Party a Great Storm Emerged and Ruined the Celebration, MC nearly put her Life on the Line to save her Friends that is Until She had to Go back and save her Furry Grey Companion, Grim from being Trapped in the Flames. After Successfully saving Grim, The Boat's Supply of Fireworks was set off with MC still on the Ship exploded leaving the Survivng Students on the Life Boats in Shocked

Rielle feeling the need to do something he had to save her from Drowning

As the Dawn rose yet the sky filled with soft grey clouds, Rielle brought MC back to shore not leaving her side worried that she might not wake up, but faintly he could hear her Breathing and a Sigh of relief escaped from Rielle mouth as he then was enchated by MC's Beauty as she lays Unconscious and he then Sings his new Dream to be Part of Her World

The Group then Later finds MC on Shore, relieved as they can be the First Years Tackled MC in a Tight hug Happy that she was Ok. MC then starts to Say how there was a Boy who Saved her and how He Sang so Beautifully. The Bois thought she was Imagining things or being Delusional or she probably Drank too much Sea Water (Lol)

Except for Azul who knew exactly What MC was Referring to . . . which gave him an Idea for a Boy who always had an eye for a Bargain

To Make this Short, Azul then had Rielle visit the Monstro Lounge to make a Deal with him. Helping Him to Turn into a Human to both to Attend RSA and Meet the Female Prefect only for 3 Days but Can Succeed if He Kisses her through True Love. If she Doesn't Kiss her then He Turns Back to a Merman and be trapped in the Monstro Lounge as a Fish in a Tank Serving the Entertainment as a Decoration (& Azul will have MC all to Himself). Payment would be for Rielle to Give up his Voice and rely on other ideas to communicate with MC and his Friends in RSA

As Rielle enjoys his Time at RSA making New Friends and Meeting MC and visiting The Village to Bond more they both Almost Kissed (Kiss the Girl Scene) but Unfortunately failed after being knocked over from the Leech Twins who followed them to prevent Rielle from Succeeding. Leaving Azul to take matters into his own hands and using Rielle's Voice and a Disguises himself (Like Vanessa but a Male ver. Brown Hair, Purple Amethyst Eyes, and his Seashell Necklace that holds Rielle's voice).

His Name would be Victor 💜

MC Standing outside of Ramshackle late at Night hoping that she wasn't mistaken that a Boy really did save her, considered the Lighter Side of the Whole Experience and Considers her feelings for Rielle and decides to Sleep on it and meet with him in the Morning.

But then Hears a Voice Singing exactly the same as the One who saved her from Drowning she then looks around and sees a Figure standing close to the Lake near Ramshackle. His Hair Softly Flows in the Night Breeze as he slowly Looks back at MC making Eye Contact with his Piercing Amethyst Eyes as he Sings and a Golden Hue Glows Brightly in the Night entrancing MC in a Spell

Soooo There's that & I Hope someone Writes a Story about this Idea & I give full permission to use this Idea as long you Credit me

Thanks For Reading and I hope you Enjoyed!!🐚💜

#twsited wonderland #azul ashengrotto #octavinelle #floyd leech #jade leech #twst rielle #the little mermaid #vanessa the little mermaid #rsa twst #rsa x reader #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto

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shiny-jr · 2 years

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Oh man, just got caught up on all the Vil stuff of the last few days, and we simps be eating good!

So here’s my contribution to the ever-growing shrine: pre-confession darling always being polite to Vil, but a little distant, a little too star-struck to relax around him. Vil starts to wonder if he’s doing something wrong, if he isn’t good enough…

But THEN *dramatic music* darling’s bag falls over somehow, and some little Vil fan item falls out. Nothing crazy, maybe a button with his face on it, or a perfume model he advertised for that has his picture on the bottle. Something unmistakably fangirl-ish.

Darling only notices when Ace or Deuce points it out, then gets utterly mortified when she sees that Vil had also noticed. Stuffs it back in, tries to laugh it off, but can’t get away from the teasing that yeah, even though they’re still new to this world, they couldn’t resist spending some hard earned thaumarks, and that they’ve grown to admire Vil after the SDC.

Can you imagine? I’m sure Vil would be very nice and not too teasing in the moment, but the second he’s alone? Cue all the embarrassing squealing and rolling on the bed he’d never let anyone see. And the SMUGNESS!! Oh, he’ll be on cloud nine for the next few days, randomly smiling and causing heart attacks in the student population.

Even better, now knowing Darling is a fan, it’s SO much easier to get closer, to offer exclusive tickets to his next movie, to invite darling along on his next photo shoot. And any time darling gets embarrassed and tries to refuse, he can just catch their chin in his hand, and force eye contact as he pouts and reminds them that they’re his fan…

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: Vil being a fucking simp for a fan MC.

Note: Y'all Vil simps have taken over this blog now. ARE YOU HAPPY? Had to write a bit for this because I saw it so vividly in my head. Normally I like to imagine MC kinda oblivious to trends and celebrities of Twisted Wonderland so they casually approach the elegant star Vil like "wazzup" but your idea is pretty fun too. Had to bust out my Vil playlist to write this one. ADDED: I just finished it. Have not edited or checked for mistakes. But I feel like its mid? Like, it’s not bad but it’s not good either. But I didn’t want to keep it in the drafts after completing it and I didn’t just want to delete it either. So I’ll post anyways, even though I’m not happy with it.

Normally the class consisted of the first years, you'd sit beside Ace and Deuce, usually with Grim seated in your lap. Sometimes Jack, Epel, and even Sebek would be in the same class. But this time you were alone, despite the class being busier than ever.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim were caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing, as per usual. And they were promptly sent to see the Headmaster. Surprisingly you weren't called up, probably because you had been in the bathroom when it went down so you were exempt from detention. Jack, Epel, and Sebek made it to class on time, but they had arrived when the only seats left were across the room. Leaving you seated between unfamiliar third-years because of the joint class today. Well, most of them were unfamiliar, not all of them. Seated directly on your left was Vil Schoenheit, third-year, dorm leader of Pomefiore, and celebrity.

Schoeneheit had greeted you amicably with a rather friendly smile and a how are you? To which you responded with your own nervous smile and a polite response. Truthfully, you believe he only sat beside you because it was one of the only seats left, but you'd like to believe it was because he saw you in a good light now. Were you friends? Probably not. Maybe simple acquaintances was a better term.

If you were being honest, he still intimidated you. You could recall the looks of disdain he often gave you and your companions before the audition, then there was his strict nature and the fact that he literally cursed your friends with a cake you were five seconds from taking a bite of. Not to mention his overblot and how his unhinged form seemed to focus on you so intently... Yeah, talk about nightmare fuel. But, you decided to give him another chance at possibly being friends. You knew he was famous, but you didn’t know he was famous enough to draw crowds. Which sparked your curiosity and led you to looking him up. What you found were various films, shows, advertisements, and magazines. He was like the actor Emma Watson, singer Britney Spears, and influencer Kim Kardashian all rolled into one. You still can’t believe you had no idea who he was and you had offered him a bowl of cheap instant noodles when he and the others were staying at Ramshackle. Embarrassing...

You sat rigidly as Vil checked his appearance in the small hand-held mirror, making sure his looks were up to his standards before class began. Uncomfortably you shifted, deciding to occupy yourself by removing your notebook and writing utensils from the bag you kept as a barrier between you and the super star. As you did so, you failed to notice a tiny object fall out of your bag, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye. Curiously he plucked it up between his gloved fingers, about to return it when he took a closer look.

It was an enamel pin, shiny and sparkling. However, it resembled his face. Or, to be more accurate, one of the characters he played in a recent series. It caused him to freeze, processing what this meant before he moved to tap your shoulder and held out his open palm with the pin on it. “You dropped this.”

Confused, you turned your head and raised your eyebrow. That’s when you saw it. Your pin in his hand, the pin that looked exactly like him. Mortified, you quickly snatched it, attempting to laugh it off, but heat only began to creep up your neck when you noticed his smug smile.

Vil propped up his elbow on the table, holding up his head as he remarked slyly, “I didn’t think you were a fan.”

“Ahaha, yeahhhh... Sorry, is that weird?”

“Not at all. I’m a little flattered.” Those amethyst eyes of his were studying you so intensely, watching your every little reaction. “I’m simply surprised. Most people tend to not like that character I portrayed, since they’re a villain and all.”

“What’s wrong with that? I think villains are better than good guys anyways. They always have a better fleshed out backstory or reason for what they do. They’re more relatable, you know? And you did a really good job and making the audience feel for the character! They became my favorite! And–– Ah...” Realizing what you were doing, you shut your mouth. “I mean, you probably get that stuff a lot, huh? I’ll stop now.”

His eyes were sparkling, surprised as his listened. When you paused, he insisted, “No, no, continue! Any and all feedback is appreciated. Besides,” Vil took the pin from your hands, and he lifted his fingers up to the upper half of your uniform where he pinned the accessory on your clothing. Beaming pridefully at the sight of the accessory, with his face on it, on your uniform, he hummed, “You said, I was your favorite, didn’t you? We still have a few more minutes before class. You’ll indulge me with more conversation, won’t you~?”

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

Once alone, Schoenheit allowed his bag to slip off his shoulder. It was a long class, three hours to be exact. Three hours... with you. He released a shaky breath, clutching the spot over his heart that was still beating at a faster than average rate. He could hardly believe his luck. When he heard that today there was to be a joint class between first-years and third-years, he instantly began prepping. He put more effort into his makeup, making sure it was perfect down to the exact particle. He sprayed on his sweetest smelling perfume and picked his cleanest uniform.

At first he was worried that perhaps he was doing something wrong. You always appeared so... timid whenever he appeared. You could be joking and chatting animatedly with those pesky friends of yours (which he held a raging jealously towards), but when he entered the room, you would go quiet and avoid his gaze. He questioned and scolded himself for everything he did. Why did he used to look at you like a stain? Why didn’t he realize you earlier? Were his efforts at redeeming himself in your eyes, not good enough? Was it something about the way he dressed? Or acted? Or spoke? All this paranoia seemingly evaporated when he striked up a conversation. For the first time in weeks, you talked to him! And it wasn’t just a little chat about homework, or responsibilities, or school rumors. You spoke to him, about him! He knew by the pin and how you spoke about the series, that you had seen him on the show. You had been thinking about him! It quelled all his worries, as just yesterday he feared that you may have secretly loathed him for what he’s done or tried to do.

As the memory came back to him of what just occurred, Vil clutched himself and squealed. He was already on the bed, rolling around on the sheets and pillows, resisting the urge to simply jump on his mattress and leap with joy! He could vividly recall the way you allowed him to scoot closer to point out some important material in the textbook, as you whispered a witty remark to him which he very quietly chuckled to in order to avoid being caught by the professor, and you even gave him your number! Of course it was to exchange notes and tips, you had said. But he’d use it for so much more than that.

This was good first step, wasn’t it? You had officially bypassed the acquaintance stage and were now well on your way to the friend stage. Then, more than that, by that was all in due time. For now...

Vil stopped his squirming, again feeling his heart that was now beating rapidly. Do you know the things he would do just for your attention? Oh, you truly have no idea of the lengths he would do, just for you. Gingerly picking up his phone, he read over the newly registered number. Your number. Slowly opening up a chat, he was partially disappointed to see it was completely empty. You hadn’t sent a thing. But, if all went well, it’d be full and constantly busy by tomorrow evening. His fingers danced across the screen as he typed out his message, reviewing what he wrote over and over again for any errors, any grammar mistakes, or another way to better word what he wants to say. Finally, after a good five minutes of anxiously staring at his screen, he pressed the send button, and watched the text come up in the chat.

V: [ It was nice to talk to you again. If you’re willing, we should meet again. I got word that Professor Trein plans to have another joint class promptly, and he’ll assign a project so that the first years and third years work together. Would you like to get ahead and research in the library soon? ]

Then he waited. And waited. And waited some more. After ten minutes, he feared he wouldn’t get a response. Had you given him the wrong number accidentally or purposefully? Was he coming on too strong? What if––

Ding!

Instantly the screen lit up, displaying a new unread message which he hurriedly read.

Y: [ Vil, right? Thanks for the heads up! Sorry for the kinda late reply Grim took my phone to play games. Anyways, yeah, that sounds good. I can meet you as soon as classes are over tomorrow, if that’s a good time for you?? ]

V: [ That sounds perfect. ]

You poor thing, you truly don’t have a clue about what you’re getting into, do you?

❂ ❂ ❂ ❂ ❂

Again, Vil was prepared. He dressed flawlessly and got to the library early in order to have all the books necessary and stacked up on the table. He greeted you with a friendly smile, and you immediately got to work together. The blonde sat across from you, watching as you sketched out a rough look for the presentation that you wanted to show him and ask for his opinion. As he waited, he ignored the open book in front of him and instead watched at the way you focused on the paper, your hand moving with the pencil to create lines and shapes on the sheet. It was incredible that even the simple little things about you could captivate him.

After a moment of watching you with a gentle smile and great intrigue, he opened his mouth, “Do you have any plans for afterwards?”

You paused, looking up in confusion, “H-Huh?”

“Do you have any plans for afterwards?” He repeated. “I mean, after our study session together. Do you have anything planned for afterwards?”

“Oooh.” You shrugged before getting back to the sketch, answering as you finished up the drawing. “I mean, I left Grim with the ghosts but he gets grumpy if he doesn’t get tucked in. The Headmaster said Grim wasn’t allowed out, except classes, for at least two day. But, I might go buy some instant foods from Sam’s shop. Then I’ll lead home.”

“Instant foods...?” Vil murmured incredulously, his smile immediately dropping. All those times he’d spied on you as you ate lunch with your friends, he always thought it was strange that you never ate when he saw you. Despite your company and even Grim eating. But now this? Instant foods? Was it possible that you didn’t have enough money to eat lunch? He was mortified. Swiftly he grabbed your wrist and carefully dragged you out of the library, “Come. Now.”

“Wh–– What?? Where are we going? What about the project!”

“A simple project can wait. Our stuff will be where we left it.” He continued to escort you down the hallways, towards what you recognized was the path leading to the cafeteria. That’s when he spoke again, his tone oddly stern, much different from how softly he spoke just minutes before. “You haven’t been eating properly, have you?”

Your gaze drifted downwards, gazing at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, in order to avoid his stare. “... Hot pockets are still food.”

“I mean real food.” When there was a lack of response, Vil became angry. Not at you, but at who was responsible. “That wretched crow hasn’t given you a decent allowance, has he? Tsk. I’ll be having a chat with him, but for now...” He led you to the front of the cafeteria, where there was no line. Other few students present were chatting at tables, having a late dinners after their clubs or study sessions. Vil stood behind you with his arms crossed as he instructed, “Order. And I’ll be watching to be certain you have enough on your plate.”

You were quiet, gazing at the pastries, plates, meats, salads, and other delectable dishes past the glass counters. The menu overhead appeared endless, with a huge variety of food and drinks and desserts. It made your stomach grumble. It was a horrible reminder that you had barely eaten that day. You only had a cheap bag of chips that morning. Ashamed, you avoided his gaze once again as you muttered, “Vil, I can’t afford any of this right now...”

“I wasn’t asking if you could afford it. I was instructing you to choose what you wanted. I don’t want your money, you could just pay me back in another manner.” When one of the ghost chefs came over, Vil placed a hand over your shoulder and used his other hand to point at several dishes, “My companion here will have one of these, two of those, and five of that. Yes, that plate right there. Oh, and a smoothie as well. Thank you.” Once the ghost was gone, Vil gazed back down at you. You still couldn’t look him in the eye. Carefully he reached forward, gingerly lifting your head up by your chin so you were forced to look at his eyes. His eyes that were normally so cold and judgmental, gazed at you so fondly. “Why won’t you look at me? Aren’t were close?” He pouted to sell the act. “I’m not about to neglect my own darling fan and let them go hungry. That’d be far too cruel. To pay me back, you can accompany me on one of our days off. Say... to see a new movie in town? Well, do you agree? Or shall I order you more plates and see your time to pay me back grow longer~? Surely spending time with me can’t be that bad?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #vil schoenheit #twst vil #yandere vil schoenheit #soft yan vil

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