Drunk! Five Hargreeves Headcanons/One-shot
He becomes super clingy and giggly
He can't walk straight and ends up just falling into you
Eyes are swarmed with an unknown emotion and a stupid smile takes over his face
"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" He giggles, poking your nose with a 'bop'
His personality has taken a 180
His nails practically dig into your skin as he tries to hold onto you
Drinking is one of the things he overindulges in and you have to stop him
His hands are all over you, touching you, feeling you, holding you
He's not usually so affectionate, so it takes you by surprise
"Kiss me, please," he slurs his words, his lips puckering to kiss you, but you push him back slightly
You help him to his bedroom, as he tries to fight you, because he doesn't want to go to bed, he wants to stay up with you
You have to go with him for him to go to his room
As you go to leave, he reaches for you, "Please don't leave-"
---
You roam the halls looking for Five after his brother's wedding. You had seen him throwing back drink after drink, so you were worried that he was off somewhere black-out drunk. You heard light moaning and groaning coming from a far back room and you slowly opened the door to see Five sitting in a corner. His hair was a mess along with his shirt and tie.
He looked up slightly when hearing the door open. His eyes widened when seeing you; He tries to stand up, but ends up falling over and groaning.
"God, you are so drunk."
"I... I mam nost druuunk," his voice slurs as he speaks, causing his words to intertwine with each other.
"Uhuh," You walk over to him, grabbing his hand and helping him up. He leans into you, his head falling onto your shoulder. "I'm taking you to your room."
He adamantly shakes his head, "Noooo, no. I'm not tired."
You looked up at him, his body weight now pressing down at you, since he couldn't stand on his own. Your brows frown when seeing his eyes close and you roll your eyes. "You're so drunk, you don't realize that you're falling asleep right now."
He shakes his head, not able to vocally respond. Granted, even though was denying his sleepyness, he followed you to his room.
You slowly open the door, before shutting it with your foot when you both get in. He hangs off of you as you lead him to his bed and laying him down.
"Alright, Five. Try not to die in your sleep," You turn to leave, but you're stopped by a hand; His hand. He grabbed you, tightly, and was looking up at you with sleepy eyes.
"Please... Stay. Don't leave."
"You want me to stay?" You get out, ignoring his nails digging into your wrist.
He slowly blinks, trying to process what he was going to say next. He hums, before finally responding, "Yeah.. I want you to stay."
Before you can respond though, he yanks you towards him, holding you close against him. You sighed but ultimately accepted your fate. Hopefully, sober Five wouldn't question why he was entangled with you in a cuddle. Though knowing him, he probably would adamantly deny wanting to hold you close. But as they say, drunk actions are sober thoughts
655 notes
·
View notes
I Can't Lose You
Summary: After almost losing you, Five goes through extreme measures to make sure you're safe
Pairings: Yandere! Five Hargreeves x Reader
Tw/Cw: Protective Five, Open-ending
It all happened so fast, even for Five. If he had seen it coming, he would have gotten you out of there, but he wasn't expecting those stupid white-haired brothers to show up. When you had been shot, thankfully nowhere vital, he nearly lost it. Past Five would have killed them, but you were his priority, so he made sure to get you out of there.
"Oh, god- Fuck, are you okay?" It's not a real question, just something to bring Five some sort of comfort. He rips off sleeves, before pushing the fabric on your wound, hoping to control the blood, instead of having his hands get bloody trying.
"Five," You grab his bicep, causing him to look up at you. "I'm fine."
He frowns, letting go of the make-shift sleeve bandage he had made. He lifts up his blood-covered hands, "Fine? You're bleeding out because you were shot. What the fuck were you thinking?" He's angry and he knows he shouldn't direct it at you, but he hates the feeling of worry, guilt, and fear you made him feel.
"What was *I* thinking? What do you mean WHAT WAS I THINKING?! I didn't shoot MYSELF!"
He groans, putting his hands back on the wound. He doesn't respond to your words, frustrating you.
"Well?"
He looks up at you, his eyes down casted and a frown overtaking his face. He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, "I was just..." He pulls his hands down his face, "Forget it- It's nothing. Don't worry about what I said."
You were a little taken aback, because if there's one thing about Five, it's that he stuck by what he said.
---
You awoke in a bed, looking around the strange room. You were alone and your wound was patched up. You click your tongue, before sitting up and yawning while rubbing the side of your face. You move to the side of the bed, finally standing off, before holding the side of your stomach when a sharp pain shoots through you.
You hear the click of the door and quickly look towards it. It was Five and he had a muffin- or at least what looked like a muffin.
He looks up at you, before quickly coming over to you and making you sit back down, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Your brows scrunch as you shrug, "I was just going to walk and move a little-"
"No, just stay here. You're safe here."
You roll your eyes, before crossing your arms. Why was he being like this? He was acting like you were a porcelain doll that would break if grabbed to hard.
He ignores your pouting before handing you the muffin. "Here, I got you something to eat. And drink the water," He gestures to a water bottle that was on the nightstand, "You lost a lot of blood. You're going to have to be more careful, because I don't want to bandage you up again." He looks up at you before an annoyed look overtakes his face, "Do you know how embarrassing and hard it was to explain when they asked why you didn't have a shirt on and my hands all over you while you were unconscious?"
"What happened to them?"
"Who- The Swedes?" He tilts his head, before looking at your covered wound, "They left after you were shot. I think they think you're dead."
"Why?"
"Because they're idiots," He shakes his head like it was the most obvious answer. "Though, that's good for us. If they think you're dead, they won't come after you and you'll be safe."
"Sounds like you're telling me to stay inside to be 'safe'." You joke but by the way Five looked back up at you it wasn't a joke. You quickly stand up, "You're kidding- I'm not staying here-"
He stands up, pushing you back down on the bed, "Yes you are. You're safe here- This is were you're staying and I don't care if that upsets you."
"You can't control me!" You yell at him, which causes his face to scrunch up.
"So, you think. You're not leaving my sight or out of where I know you are."
"So you think locking me up will keep me safe?"
"Yes!"
"Why! It was one time!"
He turns away from you, holding his face in his hands. He couldn't talk to you. Not now. He was to caught up and he'd say something he'd regret.
"What are you so afraid of?"
He finally breaks and turns towards you, "Because I can't lose you! You almost died! Okay, are you happy?! Fuck," His nails dig into his scalp and he looks away from you. He rubs his temple before sighing, "I don't... know what I'd if I lost you and.... Well, for the first time in my life, I was scared."
You're surprised by his confession, especially since he never told you his feelings before.
"Oh."
"Oh? That's it?" He looks back at you surprised.
You shake your head, "I'm just surprised."
"Yeah," He sits on the edge of the bed, before fiddling with your hand, "You know, when you were bleeding out it was awful." You looked at your hands that were now intertwined, "I know I don't say it, but I do care about you and I just want you to be safe."
"Yeah, I know, but I can defend myself. There's nothing for you to be worried about."
"Yeah, I know... But I can't help it."
"Yeah, you do worry a lot, but I promise nothing bad's going to happen."
306 notes
·
View notes
yandere five with a reader who's just as smart as him, but is still really sweet. however, she won't take any of his shit and gets past all of his shenanigans, escaping every he drags her back.
Yandere!Five x Reader
warnings: yandere behaviour, dark themes (obviously), yandere Five, kidnapping, mentions of breaking bones.
a/n: I'm sorry if that's not...what you expected? i dunno why I'm saying this, it's just every time I'm doing requests I have a feeling I didn't do it perfectly? and you probably expected more-
For a man like Number Five, having a potential competitor around is kinda a great danger. For him? Haha! Definitely not, more for you. You see, since childhood, Five has been a pretty...competitive guy. He's faster, smarter, stronger than the ones he grew up with at the Academy when he was much younger.
In fact, meeting the same person who can make Five sweat so well would be very interesting to him. If Five were younger, his reaction would be simple. He wants to be the best, as well as get his dose of praise from Reginald, will simply start spending a day to get ahead of you. He'll work out, he'll solve more math equations, he'll read every book in the house day and night, he'll do anything to say, in the end, “I'll always be better.”
Five, who survived several apocalypses, life in the Commission and other things, will be a little...calmer. Yes, he has a younger body, which means he must have strength. But. Five was tired mentally and physically. His body may allow him to do a few runs around the academy if he really wants to, but the other question is, will he compete with you? No.
I understand that you are probably a little disappointed with this answer, yes? Sorry, but Five is not 13 years old! There may be a part of him that wants to get some praise from Reggie, but for the most part, he just doesn't care. He is an old man. He's 58 years old guys, all he wants to do is drink coffee and read some newspaper while enjoying a legal retirement. Your games do not impress him, play such games with Diego or Ben from Sparrow, and please do not bother him.
And so, we approach the other side, by some miracle Five liked you so much that he now loves you, congratulations! I think some of your sarcasm plus sweet and intelligent behaviour will annoy him a little, but for the most part it will amuse him. You, compared to him, are so inexperienced and cute, you are probably trying to copy him, right? He will rather laugh at your behavior.
But if you really are really incredibly smart, then congratulations, you can even shut him up for a while. Remember how Viktor reminded him of the events of season 2?
You stand next to Five, silently looking at him, then at his older doppelgänger lying on the cold metal surface of the table. A moment, and you noticeably shift your gaze first to the younger, then to the old man, and so on several times. This obviously does not go unnoticed by Five and he, already on the verge of breakdown, turns to you.
„What?” he practically grinds his teeth, trying to keep from sounding rougher.
“Nothing,” you shrug, chuckling softly. “It’s just that if he is you, and you are the creator of the Commission, then it’s a little funny.”
He raises one eyebrow at your words and, moving away from his counterpart, now seems a little interested in your point of view.
“What the hell is funny about that? Can you try to explain yourself, missy?”
“You complained that the suitcases are not bulletproof, but it turns out that this is like your mistake?” you are still smiling. “It's not that I blame you...”
For a moment there is only awkward silence between the two of you. You look at him, he looks at you, only making this conversation more awkward now. He seemed to think about your words and the realization really hit him hard, and his face turns red, more likely from anger, and possibly embarrassment.
“You brat really think it's a good idea to say it right now-”
I think if you have yandere Number Five behind you, who, if you remember, is one of the most dangerous people in the world, then you must be pretty damn smart. You must be much smarter than him, considering the fact that you are a simple person with no abilities. It will be incredibly difficult for you to avoid problems if he wants to have you with him 24/7, since he can literally appear at any moment and move you anywhere and you won’t even have time to blink.
Dealing with a person with teleportation is a 50/50 situation where you may or may not get lucky. Your reaction should be quick and immediate, being able to analyze your situation in a stressful situation, because then the right to make a mistake is a luxury that you cannot afford.
Right now, one of your many attempts to escape from Five, and you can tell exactly how he is not happy about this fact. How many times have you already done this? Five times? Ten? Twenty?! He is tired of constantly pulling you away from leaving the house, you damn annoying him at such moments, and after each such attempt, he often has to change the doors and locks on the windows, because you, by some fucking miracle, manage to break them.
“Can you stop this for one freaking day?” he hisses angrily, wrapping one arm around your neck, pressing you closer to him.
His other hand is on top of your mouth, thereby shutting you up. Just from looking at Five's face, you can see how tired he is. Sweat runs down his forehead and his chest rises up and down incredibly fast.
There is a slight smile on your face and for a moment you froze, looking up at him.
“Oh, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I'm causing you,” you say in your real, sad voice. “And sorry about that too.”
Without giving your kidnapper time to react, you strike him hard in the side with your elbow, causing him to groan in pain and let go of you for a moment. Enough for you to be able to escape from it.
If you are smart and have abilities that can help you, then it will be a little easier for you. Because you can at least protect yourself a little if something happens. But in the end, Five is an experienced killer who has a lot of experience and a mountain of corpses behind his back, so at some point the cat and mouse games will end and you can hardly escape your fate.
“You really made me all so worked up over this little games of yous ,” he admits, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But in the end, you can’t run away from fate, right, angel?”
“My dear, it's only a matter of time before I can get away from you again,” you chirp happily, your wrists a little sore from how tight the ropes are pressing against your skin, but your whole appearance doesn't show it.
“Then I need to try to take this opportunity away from you forever,” his hand rests on your knee, squeezing lightly. Your breath is held for a moment and you look down, your heart beats stronger in your chest and it seemed that it was about to jump out.
He won't dare to break your legs, will he?
899 notes
·
View notes
AO3
⠀
Five: (About an hour later) So, that's all. Any questions?
Everybody: Yep, enough. Got it.
Klaus: Actually, I couldn't catch the part where-
Five: IT'S LITERALLY SO OBVIOUS, HOW CAN-
You: I didn't get any of this 🥺
Five: (Jumps your side and holds your cheeks) Don't worry, princess. I know that's a lot to take in. I'll help you to understand.
Klaus: Wow... thanks.
823 notes
·
View notes
Yander Number Five hcs
Five is a either a tunsdere or just a low ket yandere. At first
Five probably fell in love with you when you guys were teens. Then when he accidentally jumped too far he lost it when he saw your adult self dead with his family.
So during his time in the apocalypse he he hunts down things that remind him of you and search for ways to get back home.
One day while he was searching for supplies in a mall he found a manikin that looked like you. So he took it with him everywhere.
When Five eventually made it back to the "present" he ignored everyone else at Regionald's memorial. He made a bee line for you. He hugged you and didn't let you go while your mouth and the families mouths just hung open.
Somehow (your girl is too lazy to write how) Five managed to accelerate his growth and becomes your age.
Five is a possessive, manipulative, and a snarky clingy yandere.
He is more than willing to kill for you. If someone came on to you in front of him then he won't even have the decency to wait for you to leave so he can kill them.
Once he is done he is covered in blood and human bits. Five will sigh, grab you, and pretend nothing happened. If you cry or freak out while he tries to love on you covered in blood he will roll his eyes and tell you to shut up then kiss your forehead, smearing blood on you.
You tried to escape from him and leave the Hargreaves mansion after that incident but it didn't work well.
Five will guilt trip the hell out of you
"What do you mean you need space? I've been separated from you for years. And you're already trying to abandon me"
If you try to hang out with one of the other boys without him then he will be majorly possessive. He'll fight you on you having alone time. And if you somehow manage to get alone time then you better look around the corners. Because Five is more than likely watching from afar and drinking coffee
In a perfect world, where the world isn't ending, you'll be his perfect house wife
Five is very demanding and direct in letting everyone know what he wants and getting what he wants. No matter how much you argue or avoid him because of this. He will get what he wants.
Five will always be touching you in someway. Whether it be a hand on your hips to him sitting right next to you.
If he sees you hugging someone else (even his siblings) he will be pissed. You'll know that you fucked up when you see him clench his jaw, frown, and slightly clench his fists.
He will immediately pull you away and jump. Once you're both far away from anyone he tears a new one into you.
"You know you belong to me! No one should be touching you, but me!" He yelled as you started to cower. Maybe once upon a time you would have argued with him, but he took away whatever backbone you had (if you had one) a long time ago Five walks towards the wall next to you and punches a giant hole in it, causing you to jump in fear. "You touch anybody who isn't me again then they'll end up dead. And you'll get a punishment" he says an walks out the door to take a breather. You slowly slide down the wall and cry. You should have known better then upset him. Its all you're why he's mad right now. (That is pure Five manipulation right there my friends)
When you guys were kids he was also very possessive of you and your time then as well. How could he not be when you're so you. And he was especially extra possessive since you were the only friend the Hargreaves children were allowed to have. Which is remarkable since you are a normal.
Delores had to break up so many fights between Five and the other children because of his clingy and possessive tendencies.
Reginald used Five's love for you as a reward and punishment. If Five acted up then he wouldn't be allowed to see you. If he was good and trained extra hard then the more he can see you.
"The more you train Five, the more time with Y/N you'll be given."
You should have picked up on his unhealthy obsession love for you when you were kids. But you just couldn't see him in that light I guess.
If you had a crush on one of his siblings then he will be ruthless to them. Especially in dueling for training.
Since he has known you as kids then he'll know basically everything about you.
He will kidnap you, especially if you keep avoiding him. His yandere tendencies with increase 10 fold when he finally gets to reunite with you again. And since you can't jump like him, you're stuck at a home he found for the two of you.
If you need something from Five when you're kidnapped then he will negotiate with you. " I get no benefits from it. So why should I get you that? What do I get in return?" Which will cause you to give into whatever he desires at that point in time. Whether it be physical or verbal acts of love, you better give him what he wants or you're not getting what you requested.
If Five has had a hard day dealing with his family (who are searching for you) then you better behave, make him coffee/food, love on him, and tell him how much you need him. Or else you're gonna receive a pisser pissy Five.
In your little house he will have all your favorite things there for you. No matter what it be, except for certain things.
If you want a console of some sort then except parental controls on it. He isn't dumb. Five isn't gonna give you something that allows you to talk to other people to get help unless it has parental controls that block that.
Five's punishments are verbal, mental, and possibly physical.
If you piss him off enough, like by trying to escape, then he might hurt you in the crossfire of his rage. Your home will be a mess and you will be on the floor crying while holding your cheek.
Or if you refuse him and his physical touches then he might lock you in a room for a couple days. Five might also say somethings about how no one can love you because you're his alone.
"No one can love you after I claim you"
If you try to butter him up with you iniating physical affection he will give you a deranged smile and hold on to you like a python. And kiss you like his life depends on it.
But Five isn't stupid, he knows you're trying to manipulate him. (Which is silly, trying to manipulate the master of manipulation.) But he will keep his deranged smile and hold you. Because you're not gonna get whatever it is out of him. You might be able to "manipulate" him into getting a book or something, but really its just a reward for you initiating physical contact. Trying to manipulate him to make your escape easy is stupid.
If you do somehow escape (good luck with that, the house is basically escape-proofed, all the windows are bullet proof and painted shut, multiple locks on every door leading to the outside) then don't seek refuge with anyone you love, even the rest of the Hargreaves. Five is more than willing to kill them if it means he gets you back.
Five loves you more than anything, including coffee. Just be a good girl and love him. Or else you're gonna be in hell for a long time (better hope you get Stockholm Syndrome quickly)
Will you guys please request something. Its the only thing that really gives me the push to finish writing my drafts and stuff 😭. I have a list pinned of things I write for. So please feel free to request or ask stuff.
869 notes
·
View notes
*sigh* every time I go to work on a wip, I go through several very different stages of grief:
I'm almost completely unimpressed with the outcome and must scrap it; I must start from scratch or damn the entire piece.
I think up a new idea and obsessively work on it until I've lost all motivation.
The wip stays in limbo until something triggers my stupid brain to rationalize that it actually looks good? Huh???
My ADHD kicks in to help (read: whatever the opposite of "help" is) fuel my most recent hyperfixation and distract me from what needs to be done.
Actual irl things need to be done and begrudgingly, I go and do them.
5 notes
·
View notes
Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (II)
Reader is cozying up to her unusual home, and her new friend decides to surprise her with a romantic gift. Or at least what he considers to be romantic: a small reminder that no one else can mess with her. Continuation to the yakuza landlord idea!
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
Content: Female reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, violence, death, mild gore
Tags: @depressed-but-make-it-cute
You search for your keys and open the postal box, retrieving a thick envelope. You've been living at the new apartment for several weeks now and truth be told, you could get used to this lifestyle. Your commute to work is much shorter, the path is never devoid of people, and there are multiple bakeries on the way back with some of the best pastries you've tasted in your life.
You turn around and look for Daitou, somewhat distracted and dreamy. It really feels like a Hallmark movie. A peaceful, idyllic life. Ah, there he is! The scarred man is standing guard before one of the stores. The curtains have been pulled, blocking any glimpse of the inside. You walk towards him with a certain joyful bounce in your step. As you approach him, you can hear muffled screams coming from the building. He notices you and flashes you a smile.
"Don't come too close, I hear the owner's been avoiding his loan payment and getting all friendly with the neighboring Family. We're questioning him in the back."
"Don't you usually do the interrogations?"
"Only if we don't need them afterwards. I'm not too good at keeping them alive, ya know?" He scratches the back of his head and laughs awkwardly. "Do you need anything?"
You open your mouth to speak, but it's a little difficult to formulate a full sentence with the interrupted moans and cries occasionally making their way out. The door is ajar and you avoid glancing in its direction, fixating on the man before you.
"I...uh... just wanted to know if this letter is intended for me or the landlord. It looks like an official document."
You show Daitou the envelope and just as he is about to grab it, he notices the blood stains seeped into his glove. He quickly removes it, wipes his hand on his shirt, and nonchalantly plucks the paper from your fingers.
"That's for Boss. I'll pass it on, so don't worry."
You nod and bow slightly before hurrying back home. Well, doesn't make it less of a movie, you suppose. Just more of a thriller. Or something like that. You drop your bag, slip off your shoes and throw yourself onto the futon with a loud thud. The warmth of the sheets envelops you and the wails of the shop owner become but a distant dream.
Without the worry of stalkers, or finding a roof above your head, you can finally rest.
Tonight is rather dark, with the moon shrouded in heavy clouds. Daitou yawns silently as he observes the masked man testing out passcodes for the entrance. Every now and then he lets out a whispered curse, crossing out another number combination on his little crumpled note. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this is the famed stalker you'd complained about earlier. No one else currently lives in the building.
Eventually, the keypad lights up and the door unlocks. The mysterious man lifts a fist victoriously and reaches for the handle.
"Oop! Not so fast!" Daitou drops his heavy, sinewy arm over the man's shoulders, pulling him in a friendly embrace. Like two old pals meeting at an intersection. "Let's take a walk together, what do you say? (Y/N) sleeps until noon on weekends, no need to hurry."
With a grunt, the stalker tries to shove himself out of the tightening hold, but the yakuza doesn't budge. He towers over his new friend with an unfaltering, unbothered grin.
"Now listen, I don't blame you one bit, ya know? I ain't blind, at least not in this eye", he continues as he points to the real counterpart of his glass prosthetic, "so I'm damn well aware of a pretty girl when I see one. And (Y/N)? That's some good taste alright."
He gives the man an affectionate pat over the chest, pulling him away from the building into one of the side streets.
"If you want, we can have a drink before the deed, I know a good place five minutes from here. We can share some stories of our favorite girl, eh?" Daitou looks at his watch, feigning mild concern. "But I'm afraid you're not leaving this neighborhood either way. In one piece, that is."
His arm goes limp and the masked man is released from the iron hold, tripping over from the sudden lack of support. He crawls against a wall and fumbles for something, swiftly pulling out what seems to be a pocket knife. His breathing is erratic and he points the tip of the blade towards the yakuza, now with his features darkened by a frown. He sounds like an entirely different person and the instant switch to a ragged voice startles the stranger.
"See, the trouble is, I promised miss (Y/N) I wouldn't allow a fucking dog like you to be in her presence ever again. Sadly for you, I'm a man of my word." Despite the threatening tone, his posture is relaxed and he stands before the stalker with his hands bare.
"If I were you, I'd use that little butter knife on my own throat. I don't go easy on horny cockroaches. Especially the ones that mess with my woman." His final words spill out in a bitter growl.
A small animal in the trashing jaws of a predator. Blood splatters and pools in the asphalt cracks and drained hands claw at the walls, hoping for an escape. As despair sinks in, the alleyway becomes quiet again, save for the merry whistle of the remaining party. Daitou carefully ties the trash bags with the focus of a child wanting to impress the parents with a chore well done. Halfway through he stops and gasps, surprised.
"Oh man, did I really just say 'my woman'? How embarrassing." He blushes and shyly pushes the wrapped slabs away. "I haven't even asked her out yet, ya know? Better not rat me out, Mr. Stalker." He snickers at his monologue and continues the cleanup.
"Can you really not refrain yourself from smoking in here?" You try to fan away the puff of smoke, scowling at the young blonde man sitting across the table.
"Why do you even care so much?" Kazuya groans and stuffs the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray.
"I don't want my carrot cake tasting like tobacco. You're lucky the old man is afraid of you, otherwise you would've gotten your ass banned a long time ago."
"You know, I've been thinking about it lately - haven't you gotten quite the attitude? You have a big mouth for someone surrounded by dangerous gangsters. I could blow your brains out right now."
He lowers himself in his seat and briefly lifts his shirt, flashing a carelessly tucked in gun. He stares at you for a few seconds, as if expecting a reaction, then lets out a chuckle upon seeing your indifferent expression.
"Shameless. You could at least try to pretend you don't know I have a soft spot for you."
"Just a wild guess, but your Boss probably wouldn't appreciate you shooting civilians in the middle of a café. That's all." You respond with a shrug.
Your banter is interrupted by Daitou's heavy footsteps nearing in your direction. Kazuya waves, signaling your location, and kicks a chair out, inviting his friend to join.
"Where the hell were you last night? I thought you'd come with us for drinks after that long ass questioning."
"Sorry, I had to take care of something." Daitou returns an apologetic smile and tilts his head to gaze at you. "Which reminds me, I brought you this."
Your eyes widen in surprise and a faint red tints your cheeks. Was there some special occasion you didn't know about? He places a small box in your hands and leans back in his chair with a cheerful smirk on his face. Kazuya watches the interaction, equally curious as you.
You open the mysterious gift, giddy with anticipation. The nauseating smell abruptly invades your nostrils and you can feel the contents of your stomach bubble up and pile at the back of your throat. You gag involuntarily and slap your hands over your mouth, as the box tumbles down. A single severed human finger and some teeth glistening with moisture roll out.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Kazuya jumps from his seat, toppling over the table in the process, and lunges at Daitou's throat. The latter can only stare in shock, baffled at a reaction he didn't foresee. There's genuine confusion shaping his features.
"But-...I thought..."
"What the hell did you think, that you'd show up with fucking human remains over some tea and cake?! Jesus, Daitou, she ain't our Lieutenant!"
"But I did- I did tell (Y/N) I'd..." he tries to find you with a pleading, worried look.
Once the risk of vomiting on the floor has diminished, you shove yourself between the men and gently try to remove Kazuya's arm, still clawed around the other man's throat.
"Let him go, Kazuya. He didn't mean to scare me." You glance at Daitou reassuringly. "Does that mean the stalker guy is now a solved matter?"
The yakuza nods energetically, his eyes now sparkling with pride. He knew you'd understand. Once the tension is lifted, you quickly sweep the gory tokens back into their box and explain the situation to Kazuya. He collapses back in his seat with a frustrated sigh, facepalming himself.
"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I should've told you he's being serious when he says shit like this." He glares at his friend. "She didn't actually expect you to go ahead and do it, dumbass. Couldn't you just mention it or something? 'Hey, I took care of that pervert following you around'! You think she would've demanded proof?"
Daitou is nervously fidgeting with his glass eye, as if searching for the proper words.
"But you always say women will like you more if you surprise them with gifts." He concludes with a pout.
There's a prolonged moment of silence and you burst our laughing, as the blonde simultaneously lets out an exasperated whine. You cannot get over the bizarre sight in front of you: someone as massive and imposing as Daitou, cornered like a punished school boy.
"See, this is what I've been telling Boss. You're a lost cause." Kazuya rests his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between him and Daitou and continuing with a lecturing tone. "If you got a crush on someone, you bring them flowers or something! What are you, a crackhead? Do I have to teach you basic manners?"
"More importantly, uh...what should I do with these? I guess jewelry made of teeth is a thing, but the finger? Won't it go bad?" you cautiously dangle the package next to your ears, listening to the rustle of its contents.
Kazuya rips the box from you.
"I'm starting to suspect you don't have all the tiles on your roof either. I'll get rid of it, so you better pretend nothing ever happened. Are we clear?"
Both you and Daitou nod obediently.
On your way back, the man can't help the excitement building up in his chest. You liked his gift, didn't you? He hasn't done anything wrong. Does that make it official, then? As he ponders the implications, he peeks at your small frame, barely managing to keep up with him. Would it be alright if he reached for your hand? Is he supposed to ask first? All these steps confuse him to no end.
Nonetheless, he couldn't be more thankful for you.
5K notes
·
View notes
Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!
Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.
Characters: Malleus Draconia.
Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.
Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.
How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.
When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?
Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.
Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.
And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.
Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.
By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.
The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.
Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!
But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.
876 notes
·
View notes
Yandere! Jock pt. 2
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
Pt.1
Yandere! Jock was in a really bad mood today. First off you didn’t answer his good morning text or show up to school. He’s been worried about you all day! He honestly can’t stand being away from you for this long. He just feels so lonely without your presence. The entire time he’s ignored and neglected his jock friends due to his thoughts of you. No amount of coaxing from his peers can get him out of the mini depression that he is currently in right now.
Right now, he’s in his last class staring at the clock and ready to storm out of the school doors. His foot tapped with the rhythm of the ticking clock. Honestly, where could you be and the audacity of you to just ignore his barging number texts! He looks so lost without you and has been moping around the entire day.
The moment he hears the final school bell ring he just books it. From a distance you can hear someone shout to him “Where are you going? We have practice today!” Yeah, he was definitely going to get an earful from his coach when he got back. He’s been ditching practice so much lately just to hang out with you. To the point that his teammates and his coach force you to watch him practice so that he could stay.
Moving back to Yandere! Jock, he was currently on his way to your house. If he knew that you were going to skip today he totally would have stayed at your house with you. Nothing compares to the pleasure of being near you 24/7. That’s basically the only reason why he goes to school everyday.
When he makes it to your house he takes out a spare key that you have given him. He’s been to your house so often that your parents no longer get surprised when he stays over for weeks on end. As he goes into your home he likes to fantasize that the two of you are a married couple and say dumb cheesy things like “Honey, I’m home” Hearing no response from you he quickly makes his way to your room and knocks on your door.
On the other side of the door he can hear the faint sound of you shuffling out of your bed and getting up. He almost starts to coo at the sight of you rubbing your eyes and the sight of your red little nose. Turns out that you were sick and sleeping for the entire day. His heart starts to melt due to the sound of your sneeze and small voice.
Soon it finally registers on his pea sized brain that you were sick. WAIT, YOU WERE SICK!!! Oh no, Yandere! Jock goes into complete panic mode and it’s literally code red for him. He’s treating your common cold as if it were a fatal disease. He is instantly ushering you back into your bed and scolding you for not texting him that you were sick. If he had known, he would have dropped everything just to take care of you for the entire day.
He immediately starts massaging your temples in hopes that it would decrease your headache and lord forgive that you tell him that you haven’t eaten lunch yet. He was honestly about to have a heart attack when you first said that. He’s already down back into the kitchen ready to make a 5 course meal just for you. In order for his darling to be healthy, they first need a balanced meal.
The minute he finishes cooking, he starts spoon feeding you, your meal. It doesn’t matter if you protest that, he is not letting you move a single limb. Besides, what if your muscles are too weak to properly hold a spoon and you hurt yourself? He is absolutely taking no risks no matter how dumb they may seem. Everything that you need will be taken care of by him. He’s even willing to carry you over to places in your house. Honestly, if anything that is just for the benefit and satisfaction of himself.
After lunch, Yandere! Jock lays in your bed and proceeds to watch a movie with you by his side. It just feels so in place to be snuggled up with you under the covers as he rambles on about his day. He feels so at peace and can’t stop looking at how adorable you are. Believes that he is the luckiest man alive to be blessed with your presence on a daily basis.
As the movie comes to its climax he can feel your body relax and snuggle deeper into him. The peaceful look on your face is so wholesome to him and makes him think that maybe you getting sick isn’t such a bad thing after all. I mean, if everyday is like this then he doesn’t mind if you get sick more often.
The minute that you recover from your illness he is getting sick the next day. You’ll have to take care of him or else he’ll whine the entire day about you needing to return the favor. It is honestly such a win for him. It feels as if he’s just died and gone to heaven. Would totally get sick on purpose next time so that he can get the same treatment again. Too bad he’s going to have a lot of homework to make up for.
3K notes
·
View notes
What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family
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
The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.
It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.
It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.
It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.
Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…
Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.
When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.
One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.
Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.
You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.
You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.
Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?
It’s none of your business, in the end.
After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.
You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.
But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.
You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.
You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.
You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.
“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?
Why did that sound very unlikely…
“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”
He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.
…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.
“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.
“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.
“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”
Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.
You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.
Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.
A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…
Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.
And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.
It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.
‘Beloved Son and Brother.’
Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.
Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.
He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.
The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.
You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.
“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”
“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.
It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.
From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.
Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.
You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.
If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.
Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.
He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.
“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.
You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.
“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.
“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.
What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?
Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.
You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”
He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.
“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.
Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.
On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.
As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.
He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.
“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.
“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.
“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.
You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.
…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.
This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.
Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.
You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.
You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.
Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…
“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.
“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.
Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.
Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!
“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.
Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.
“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.
“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.
“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.
“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.
And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?
Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.
You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.
“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.
This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.
“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”
His voice trails off. Little what?
He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”
Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.
“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.
See? You could do this. Stealthy.
As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.
It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.
“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.
Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.
“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.
It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.
“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.
Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.
You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.
Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.
“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.
“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.
“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”
Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.
Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.
The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”
And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”
Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.
“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.
Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.
You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.
“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”
“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”
And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.
-
Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.
“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.
It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-
You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.
“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”
“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.
“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.
“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.
“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”
“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”
“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.
Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.
“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.
You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.
“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”
“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.
Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.
And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.
“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.
Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.
Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.
“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.
“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.
“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.
Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.
MASTERLIST - NEXT
918 notes
·
View notes
procrastinating my history test even tho I’m doing it at home and can cheat but I refuse to, the fact that he’s a yandere tutor probably has to do with that, anyways idk how I did this shit in one sitting,
desc: dom yandere tutor x sub gn reader, tutoring you, nsfw, library, some exhibitionism ig, idk kill me now
Tap. Tap. Tap. You looked up to Wynn bouncing his finger against your paper, clearly blank. He wanted you to take notes but your mind has been too distracted with other things to even process that you were getting tutored by him.
Right. You’re getting tutored by him because of your low grade in math. You excelled in every other subject yet when it came to numbers you were like a crow with a glass puzzle. It looks easy just from observing it but once you attempted it, it was much harder.
“Listen sweetheart, I need you to pay attention because I’m not going to sit here for another hour to look at your confused face. Start listening or else I’m leaving in 5” He used his hand to lift your chin up, emphasizing his height even if he was sat.
“Got it?”
You nodded.
“Alright, Let’s try this again” He inhaled with a long exhale, cracking his fingers before drilling some more methods in your brain until you had to understand.
You weren’t really sure why he decided to help though, he was busier than you were and might’ve cancelled a plan or two. Just to help you study? It was a little odd coming from the guy who seemed to hate your guts on some days while the others he could only tolerate you.
Wynn looks at your expression that can only be described as ‘I stopped listening a few minutes ago’, tempting him to walk out and teach you a lesson, whether that be one where you understand math or comprehend that you can’t waste his time.
He chooses the second.
“Alright, cmon” He grabs your hand, leading you somewhere without any other words, even when you ask the same questions like a confused parrot with no other things to say. “Where are we going? Wynn, where?”
“If you can’t listen with my words then I’ll make you listen with my touch” He closes the door behind him, efficiently locking it as he scoops you up and placed you on the librarian’s desk. It was her office, an empty one, something you noticed after looking around.
“We can’t be in here Wynn, the Librarian’s gonna kick us out” You sat on the desk, not daring to hop off just yet, maybe you were a little curious at to what he was planning, even if you were still confused.
“Who cares? She’s probably on her lunch break” He unbuttons your shirt, likely just for the view of how you look without it, pulling you in by the loose collar for a kiss. Strawberry chapstick is what you taste when he continued to press his lips against yours. You could hear his small intakes for breath, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you further in.
“Wynn?” You say pushing him off, more out of breath than you expected which was embarrassing since he looked ready for another deep kiss.
“Mhm..?” He says in a low voice, fiddling with the button of your pants while looking at you. His husky yet whiny tone had you believing he’s been waiting for this moment for along time now.
“I don’t know.. um..” You sort of ramble incoherent words of confusion, you weren’t sure why you called his name, you wanted to ask what this was about but with some fear to what the answer might be… you kept quiet, letting him explore your body with his veiny hands.
You liked him, even if he was a little snappy, he was sweet at times, so if you heard him saying this was just to release tension after studying for so long you might just cry right here. It was a little sad to hope that he was doing it with some sort of feelings.
If only you knew this man was obsessed with you.
You’d likely figure it out by how he bent you over the wooden desk and hesitated to take you here. Yes, he’d prefer if you were in his bed confessing your infatuation and dedication to making him fall for you, but the growing hot situation of fucking you in such a risky place has him more excited.
“I’d be nicer with you but you haven’t been listening so” He pushed his finger inside your hole, after embarrassingly making you suck on his finger for a few moments while praising you. He manages to fit three fingers at a time, curling them inside, making you squirm against the desk, you’re forced to grasp at the end of it while trying to keep quiet.
“Keep quiet and I’ll be nicer, you can do that right baby?” He says in a low voice, massaging your ass before lining his tip at your entrance, you can feel yourself suctioning on nothing in a desperate need for him. You make a noise of agreement and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready.
As he pushed himself inside he can’t help but make a groan of pleasure. It was tight, warm too, and it was you. He might’ve been leaking pre during the study session just thinking about something like this.
He bottoms out inside you and pulls out right where his tip begins, slamming back into you with a surprised moan escaping your lips, you scramble to cover your mouth before he starts repeating the same hard hitting thrusts.
He’s on his 4th one before he starts noticing how you’re shivering already, even if he was yet to pick up the pace, he curls his arm around your stomach and pulls you up against him, making you arch against him at his will.
“Be good and suck on this okay?” He offers his fingers, this time to keep you quiet, you nod and wrap your lips around his left digits, the ones that weren’t inside of you.
He makes you stand as he pushes his cock in and out of you, you can feel your legs quiver as he fills you to the brim with his cock, you don’t know if there’s even space for a finger inside when he already has you feeling so full.
You gasp when he speeds up, leaving you with no warning as you whimper against his fingers, the sound of skin clashing has you even more focused on the situation. “How does it feel baby? Are you gonna start listening to me now?” He growls in your ear, pulling you closer to him as continues.
Wynn feels you tighten around him as he speaks, he knows you’re paying attention. Best believe he’s going to start using this as a way to make you listen.
You mewl at how embarrassing it was to be arching and bending just from his control, as if he wasn’t teaching you mathematics 10 minutes ago. You internally prayed that nobody was hearing all the sounds you were making while his cock crashed into your sensitive hole in a quicker pace than before.
You grabbed at anything in-front of you, which was the wooden desk the shook under his movement that pushed you against it. He leaned with you as you propped yourself against it once more.
“I can feel you tightening around me, you still haven’t gotten used to it? I guess I’ll have to teach you the shape of my cock too huh?” He whispers in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as he teased you.
“I’ll fuck you dumb until you get it”
1K notes
·
View notes
Y/n: You think you're smarter than everyone else
Five: I don't think I'm smarter than everyone else. I know I am
Diego: Cocky bastard for a guy who's mentally 40+ years older than his girlfriend
Five: Fuck off- I know where you sleep asshole
Diego: And I know where your girlfriend sleeps
Five: Are you threatening my girlfriend?
Diego, rubbing your head: I could never hurt this cute head. But I could hurt you
6K notes
·
View notes
hiii i love ur umbrella academy work!! could u write a one shot abt yandere five and a darling who’s sick with the flu? im sick rn and need some comfort from my comfort character
Of course!
[Not a fan of Adrian's actions though... Can't say I'm surprised though... It's so disappointing]
At first it was just a sore throat. You didn't think much about it. You decided to just get something to drink and move on with your day. Though, as the day progresses, it gets worse.
"What the fuck it up with you?"
You don't turn towards Five, because you knew he'd be able to detect you out in a heart beat. You hold in a cough, which causes Five to become more suspicious.
"Nothing."
His eyebrows scrunch together, before humming. He knew something was up and you knew that he knew. The problem is that Five would have never guessed you were sick. And even if he did know, he isn't capable of taking care of someone else; He can barely take care of himself. Besides, you don't trust him.
You awoke the next day with Five standing over you. You were sweaty and hot and freaked out. "What the fuck are you doing?" You manage to get out in a sore tone.
"You're running a fever. I think you're sick."
You look at him confused, before your eyes widen. He knew you were sick. You groan loudly, causing Five to frown.
"Why did you groan?"
"I didn't groan?"
He rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. He pulls out a bottle from his pocket, causing you to look at him confused.
"What's that?"
He doesn't look at you, "Medicine."
"For what?"
"You."
"I'm not sick."
He finally looks up at you, giving you a look that practically says 'I don't believe that shit.' He gives you the medicine, which you reluctantly take.
He's not good at taking care of you at all
He tries, he really does, but it's not something he ever really prepared for
It's hard for him to take care of anyone; But he wants to learn, only for you though
He probably goes to Viktor for advice, because he's the only one Five trust
So when Five does take care of you, you should really be thanking Victor
He's nicer to you than usual, which kind of sets you on edge, because why is he being so nice? You're kind of scared, but he holds himself together to make sure you know he's not faking it
It's also a way for him to prove to you that he can be a good boyfriend and he's perfect for you
Why would you need anyone when he's here? [If you even try, the person is going to disappear, so Five doesn't really have much competition]
But really, he's better at killing people than bringing them back to health
Though, if he does a good job taking care of you, he's flustered when you thank him and are even sweet to him
Maybe you should get sick more?
Because god does he love the attention
37 notes
·
View notes
Soft Yandere Simp ogling Camgirl Reader
There are no words that come to mind when he sees you for the first time. His mind completely goes blank, enthralled by your EVERYTHING to the point of no return.
He immediately bookmarks your webcam page, knowing that he’s probably going to be recklessly spending his money on you from now on. But hey, it’s okay. After all, it must be love!
His mother always told him growing up to cherish the people he loves, so he does just that. Within days, your not-so-high income quadruples, spurred on all by one man, him. He quickly becomes your most generous viewer.
He drops money during your stream to ask the most basic questions: $10 - What’s your favorite color? $20 - Do you like sushi? $15 - What’s your least liked movie? $5 - Bowser or Mario?
He laps up every bit of information you give him. You say you prefer muscular guys? Rest assured that he’s already hitting the gym. You hate politics? He swears he’ll never bring them up. You like flowers? Expect to be showered with them once he gets your address. (He WILL find your address.)
It goes on like this for a while.
The two of you converse a lot on stream. You begin to ask for his preferences, being your number one viewer and all. He eventually buys you outfits, lingerie he thinks would look best on you, and feels immensely satisfied when you wear them during streams.
You grow to enjoy his antics, and behind the scenes, despite knowing you shouldn’t, you eventually can’t help your curiosity and ask for his contact information.
When you send him a DM, he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. You two hit it off quite easily — him having done enough research and questioning to figure out what type of guy you like.
Before you know it you’re giving him private shows, and he cherishes every moment, always tipping you a fat sum afterwards. You continue doing regular streams, and despite not liking that others get to see you so intimately, he respects your line of work and knows that he’ll always be your favorite. And you can bet your ass he’ll be in every stream, supporting his favorite girl in the whole wide world.
He’s not even interested in sex anymore, he just wants your time. Phone calls with you are his favorite activity of the day, where the two of you can just talk about the randomest of things. He grows greedy, wanting more of your time to himself.
Like it was meant by fate, the two of you start dating, and by then he can barely mask how he truly feels. He’s constantly calling you, sending you heartfelt texts, wanting to video call, and sending you gifts. One day he’ll buy a plan ticket just to visit you. But until then, he wants as much of you he can get virtually.
Your friends warn you of his clingy behavior, but you find it sweet.
698 notes
·
View notes
Would Yandere!Five fall for any of his darling's manipulations to get what she wants as well or would he notice immediately? Like darling loves him, but is sometimes fed up with his behavior and acts super cute and innocent to fool him in her favor? 👀
Warnings: Yandere, manipulation, grown-up Five
⠀
Technically, he knows you try to get out of punishment or get him to do what you want by being cute. After all, he's a very smart man and aware of his surroundings. It wouldn't be difficult for someone who looks for the hidden meaning behind every intention to realize what you are doing. But he accepts innocence and cuteness as a trait that is in your character. That's why when you act super innocent and cute to trick him, he thinks you're just reflecting your personality. You do it to get what you want, but that's who you are.
You can't always get what you want. He's a man with rules. If he says no, you don't have much chance. But even though he says he knows what you're doing, most of the time he gives you what you want. Why would he reject you when you're sweet, docile and innocent? So, yeah. Even though he knows your little trick, he falls for it.
284 notes
·
View notes
𐙚 : BOTH OF YOU BEING YANDERE FOR EACH OTHER ( reaction ) ֶָ֢ !
request: hi hi! Can you do enhypen yandere when there gf is also a yandere for them.
authors note. i hope you like it , i hope you don't mind that i just did the hyung line 😭🩷
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
𐙚 : HEESEUNG ֶָ֢ !
he's definitely more calmer than you are — if anything you have the most blood on your hands , and he's so in love and obsessed with you that he couldn't bare to see the love of his life go away, so he was often cleaning up your messages. "baby im home." he closed the door to your house , noticing the blood on the floor, sighing. "im in here." he heard you humming in the kitchen , you sounded so beautiful in his eyes , he felt like he was floating as he made his way into the kitchen. "hi baby." you smiled innocently , standing in the kitchen with his shirt on , covered in the blood, standing over a dead girls body. "what happened this time princess." you pouted. "i saw her dming you trying to get your number, so i lured her here." you said , like it was normal thing. "she made too much noise." he walked up to you, kissing your forehead. "good girl."
"how about you go clean up , let me handle this , then we'll order your favorite okay?"
𐙚 : JAY ֶָ֢ !
you were so obsessed with jay, that you often plagued with the thought of him leaving you so you often did things so he'd prove to you how much you loved him , where as jay, he's sadistic — meaning he'll kill any and everyone just to show you. "i-im sorry." the guy begged in front of you. "she came on to me." see jay didn't like that— granted he knew you probably did, knowing you often did this just to see how far he was willing to for you, but who was he to call his baby girl out , to even look your way and accuse. "really?" jay turned to, you pouted. "i might've, i can't remember." you shrugged. "see she can't remember so." the last thing you heard before the gunshot go off was the guys pleas. "now." your body ran cold, his hand coming up to your neck, squeezing. "how many times are you gonna do this?" you whimpered. "ju-just felt like you didn't love me anymore." you felt your airways being obstructed. "needed a remember." he nodded, unimpressed. "yeah , how about i show you." he dragged you to room.
"marry you , then keep you tied to the bed and fucked full of my children."
𐙚 : JAKE ֶָ֢ !
both of you are so obsessed with each other , neither one of you wanting to murder anyone , you'd rather stay in the comforts of your own home , snuggled together — so when the awful time comes where you have to go out , both of you would become so paranoid that one of you would run away, that you'd end coming up with the same method — drugging each other. "i don't want you to go baby , how about i go food shopping." jake said , but you were already losing it , because he went out last time and came home 10 minutes later— what was he doing? who was he with? "no jakey , it's okay i can go this time." you said taking a sip of the coffee he made you , putting the cup in the sink, your mind already feeling fuzzy. "jakey." he grabbed a hold of your shoulder , holding you up. "i know baby , you're sleeping it's okay." he dragged you to the room. "no." he shushed you , holding your hand , kissing your forehead. "when you get up , the food will be here and we can watch movie." he stood up , his vision suddenly getting hazy , before he dropped to the floor next to you , still holding your hand, both of you out cold.
you had drugged his coffee not only 5 minutes after he spiked yours.
𐙚 : SUNGHOON ֶָ֢ !
both of you are crazy for each other; it's almost like a competition of who can be the craziest over the other— sunghoon will win every single time, but that doesn't mean anything. "did i say you could do that?" sunghoon yanked your hair back , your face covered in blood as you look down at the girl on the floor. "did you ask me for permission last week when you killed that driver; besides this bitch deserved it, i told her to stop texting you." you yanked at his back, both of you covered in blood as you tussled around with each other , both of you fighting for dominance— sunghoon holding the knife up to your neck, pinning you to the wall. "i admit , you look hot like this." he smirked , pressing his knee in between your legs, you moaned as he moved his knee along your covered cunt. "but if you try this shit again with my permission, it won't be pretty." he said , pinning you down.
"i don't crazy you are , i'll kill us both."
©️LUVYENI
674 notes
·
View notes