Pretending To Be Dead In Front Of Hxh Yans. Because Why The Hell Not?

pretending to be dead in front of hxh yans. because why the hell not?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and implied violence.

Word Count: 900. (this was only supposed to be 400 😭)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

Chrollo will know right away. There is no doubt about that. Even if he was in another room and just happened to walk in through the doorway as you flopped on the floor like a fish.

He will probably hit you up with a "Darling, get up or we won't go to the museum tonight" or something like that. He likes using this carrot and stick technique quite a lot, but with his own spin on it using his manipulation tactics. He will lure you in with a reward for behaving yourself or take something away when you are bad.

If you continue this charade despite his threats, he will attempt to entertain you for a bit. Maybe he pokes you with the end of an umbrella or something, or mockingly weeps your supposed death. Eventually this will annoy you so much you will surrender.

His response is directly proportional to why you did this. Did you do it for attention? He will gladly give it to you, with reading to you and handfeeding you your favorite food, still warm from its takeout box, or maybe he even attempted to make it himself (though, if the dish doesn't come out as planned, as his perfectionism is a huge part of him, he will throw it out before you even find out he cooked something in the first place).

Did you do it so he would actually think you are dead so you could sneak off to freedom? Well, expect him to tease you about it from this point forward, but nothing serious happens. Unless you attempt to attack him and actually prevail, usually his punishments are bare to none.

Nobunaga

Nobunaga is many things. Being in touch with reality is definitely not one of them. He already sees you as a fragile little baby, so trying to play dead in front of him will cause him to have a panic attack of sorts.

He believes your entire act, as bad as you were doing it. He cries and caresses you in his arms. His crusty, dry lips, unholy body odor, and his utterly disgusting breath will be the only reasons you will ever reveal your cover.

He reacts to you being alive as horribly as you expect. He will start yelling at you, scolding you like a toddler who snuck into the cookie jar and not a captive trying to get back to society once more. If he was already in a somewhat bad mood, like you rejected his advances for the umpteenth time, and he got annoyed at you playing "hard to get" again, expect to even be sent to bed without dinner or dessert. Horrifying, right?

But, then again, dinner is always raw or burnt. You are sometimes convinced Nobunaga is trying to poison you to further immobile you, so you won't attempt to escape further. Maybe this whole playing dead thing was successful, in its own way? You would rather eat pebbles than the halfway cooked rice Nobunaga puts in your pink plastic plate.

Feitan

Feitan just stares at you, not blinking. He already knows what you are trying to do. He already has a staring problem, observing everything you do, from drawing to looking outside the small, barred window in your room, so his reaction, in all honesty, does not surprise you one bit.

He will just go about his day. Feitan is an expert on the human body, being the Troupe's lead torturer and all, so he knows the difference from when you are faking being sick (or in this case dead) from when you are actually sick (a possibility from both the escape attempts and the fact that Feitan's little cabin in the middle of the woods has no heat or air conditioner. He says he does not need it, so he does not recognize it as a problem).

As always, he says nothing. He only sees this as a little bit of a tantrum you're having, and lets you have your way for once. When you eventually give up or when he has had enough of watching you, he'll leave the room to do something else.

But nothing bad happens to you, shockingly. But there is major emphasis on to you. If you have refused to admit defeat, he'll torture yet another poor unfortunate soul in his basement, their screams much louder than usual, and you will break at one point or another, either asking Feitan to stop or going to your room to put your pillow (which can also be a weapon with how hard it is) over your ears.

Machi

Machi, similar to two of the three assfarts, knows exactly what you are doing. But, like Nobunaga, she still worries, although she does not show it, and she also scolds you.

But, unlike the rest of them, she tries to listen to you after she shakes you into revealing yourself. She wants to know why you did that. If you say to try to escape from her, her heart will be broken once again.

Machi may not be the most emotionally understanding, but she does in fact try, although what she does after this incident is largely the opposite of what you wanted to happen. Even though her intentions are good, in her opinion. She will become more present in your life, bringing home more gifts for you and trying to hug you whenever you ask, although she will never initiate it herself.

She hopes you won't do that again. She'll tell you as such. She was not trying to manipulate you with the increase in gifts and consensual touches, but you will feel so bad you won't attempt such a thing from that point forward.

Cupid.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: No matter how much soap is used up, even when the bars are all dissolved in the bathwater and the bottles are empty, you know that from now on all you will be is dirty. You will never be clean again. Never.

Warnings: Yandere themes, heavily implied non-con, past violence, manipulation, and kidnapping.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Memoir #02 [06.12.09] by Maria Pseftoga (feat. May Roosevelt)

I Can’t Handle Change by Roar

A Burning Hill by Mitski

No Surprises by Radiohead

A Pearl by Mitski

Liquid Smooth by Mitski

Six Forty Seven by Instupendo

I Love You Like An Alcoholic by The Taxpayers

Bumblebees Are Out by Jack Stauber’s Micropop

Bathtub by The Front Bottoms

"Now the time has come. I put two bullets in my gun. One for me, and one for you. Oh darling, it will be so beautiful." – Misery (1990)

*~*~*~*

The steam rising feels so thick it nearly suffocates you. That does not stop you from burying yourself further into the water, up to your nose and nearly filling up your ears. No, if anything, the steam makes you want to drown in it so much more. You contemplate putting your entire head under, screaming into the water until no bubbles rise to the surface.

But the demon wearing pale human skin would stop you before your escape attempt is successful. That is what he always does, after all.

Your white wool towel and his gray one is placed on the same rack, on your side. On one of the hooks behind the door are your pajamas, the color of strawberry taffy, and small buttercups on both the top and lower parts of the set. There are twenty-two on the shirt and nineteen on the pants. You know this because you have counted them many, many times before, the first-time being weeks if not months ago, when you thought the worst thing Chrollo could do to you is slap you or ignore you if you ever hit him. If you ever succeeded in that department, with his lightning-fast reflexes. You can only remember being that fortunate enough maybe… a maximum of four times, you think, before you stopped, after your initial fears of him killing you were brushed off, and after your survival instincts adapted to fit this particular situation. 

Rebelling by fighting him is not going to help. You know that it is something ingrained in every human, getting physical in the face of a threat, whether it be a real one or not. However, upon your initial confinement in this place, your primal instinct also urged you to escape. You constantly remind yourself that this is impossible due to the numerous locks on the door and Chrollo's ability to summon a seemingly omnipotent book out of thin air. You are unable to flee, thus your survival instinct must adjust to an alternative strategy. Nevertheless, it fails to do so, prompting you to ultimately confront different adversaries altogether; Chrollo's caresses, presents, and offerings of quality time.

But now seeing where that got you now, you regret not attempting to jump out of his car and run for the hills, not caring if he was behind you or not.

“...” You are silent as you push back further and further until the crown of your head feels the porcelain wall. “...”

Chrollo, in turn at your silence, simply puts some water into his cupped hand, letting his thumb play around in it for a little while before releasing it back from whence it came. “Now, what did we learn today? You don’t plan to be silent the rest of the night, do you dearest?”

You're uncertain about your plans, but one thing you do know is that drowning him in the bathtub is not one of them. Despite your desire to do so, you acknowledge that you wouldn't come out victorious. Presently, you feel apprehensive about what lies ahead. If this isn't the absolute depths to which Chrollo would sink, then what could be?

“...” Your mind wanders at a languid pace, not in a slithering manner, but rather with a slow crawl. It looms menacingly, poised to devour you entirely, leaving you voiceless. To prevent its dreadful consumption, you divert your attention to the objects surrounding you, to anything but the one who holds you captive.

“...If you don’t want to chat now, that is fine,” This time, Chrollo scoops water into his palms and gently pours it over his hair. “You can always do so when we get out.”

The water is still clear, so clear that you can still see the bottom of the bathtub. The salts he put were lavender scented, you think, because something floral is in the steam and the small bits of water that make their way into your nostrils and mouth. There is lemon balm, peppermint, and rose petals floating about too, but one or two of them have clung to your body like seaweed you would accidentally walk near when you went into the ocean’s tides, causing you to squirm to get them off. Chrollo most likely finds this amusing, because he does not think much else of you, does he?

“...” There are seventy-three tiles in all on the bathroom floor that are in plain view, not counting the ones underneath the rugs, the bathtub, cleaning supplies, shelving, and the toilet. “...”

You could recount them again instead of putting water over your head too. “Do you want to do anything related to aftercare aside from this?”

“...” Rather than uttering a word, you choose to count the uncovered tiles on the bathroom floor. “...”

The occurrence can be summed up by a single word: dissociation. To shield you, your mind disentangled the emotional pains from the physical ones, rendering you void of sensation, numb. This was done to prevent you from comprehending the true nature of what transpired, what just happened, when his patience snapped and he tied you to the bed by the wrists, ripping and ripping until–

“...”

You and the devil are side by side. 

“There is no need to repeat what happened today, correct? Then everything will go back to normal. Just hope for your well-being that you remember this.” 

“...I will. I will.” The sound of your voice brings a smile to his face, and he cups a handful of water in his palms.

The liquid flows down from your hair, mimicking a gentle rainfall, only to rebound and retreat to its origin. This rhythmic cycle persists, until unexpectedly, your body surrenders to a state of tranquility, defying the will of your mind. Your head tilts backward, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless, as if hovering above the water's surface.

Your mind will now be cleansed of the undesirable side of Chrollo, hopefully ensuring that you never have to witness it again.

Experience.

Yan Nanami x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Kento says to meet him downstairs to get ready to go outside.

Warnings: Yandere themes, past stalking, kidnapping, manipulation, and past violence.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

Last winter, your captor informed you that you would have the opportunity to venture outdoors when the darkness fell, the streets were deserted, and the pavements were sprinkled with salt. Despite endlessly waiting for Kento to stop reading his book and unlock the closet near the entrance, allowing you to slip into your jacket, the awaited moment never arrived. This instance marked the first occasion when Kento inflicted more emotional pain upon you than physical.

It hurt because he promised. Kento had never broken a promise to you before. Never. For better or worse, whether that was promising to buy you a cake for when you were good for a few weeks or promising to slap you across the face whenever he caught you mid-escape attempt. 

You asked him if he was going to take you when the sun had set, the fireplace was lit and your cup of tea had long since become cold. For what seemed like an eternity, his gaze lingered, chilling you to the bone from head to toe. Silence. No answer. You teared up and kept scrambling and muttering begs to go outside even if it was just for a moment or two.

With every one, he shook his head and turned to another page of his novel. After enough, he started to sigh to the rest of them. Soon, you stopped, looking down at your cold feet and shuffling to the kitchen to grab your sweater, as useless as it was to keep you warm in this weather. That was when he spoke.

“It’s snowing.” Kento pointed to the apartment window, and the winter wonderland outside looked more horrifying than hell to you and to you alone. Snowflakes rush to the ground every second, painting the sidewalks and roads a shade of white fit for a traditional bridal veil. “You’ll catch a cold, and you could get hurt.”

You stopped walking and faced him. Tears fell from your eyes then, after so long of being unpunished. Despite the warmth of the flames within the stoker placed by the television, your cheeks felt so stinging that you could have sworn that your cries would turn into icicles that would sooner than later impale your feet. You sniffle, and Kento stands up from his rocking chair at long last.

Old habits die hard and come back to life at that very moment. Impulses, animal, and raw and afraid. You ran frantically, wanting to be anywhere but in the same room as him at the very least. But wherever you ran and hid, he would always find you.

In no time, you discovered your back against the wall, caught between the pantry door that refused to budge and the ever-present figure of Kento. It felt like a repeat of the day you awoke in this place, only this time Kento displayed a touch of kindness he lacked before, back when you bit and screamed and always got tied up or hit with his belt. So, because of this slight development, rather than resorting to violence or depriving you of your fundamental rights, he opted for a different approach–a proposition to be exact. 

“We… can bake something.” He utters his words with a hint of uncertainty. “Something warm. Whatever you want. I just don’t want you to get sick. During the colder times of the month, influenza especially gets passed around as quickly as wildfire. There is also the common cold. Those… and curses. You aren’t strong enough to defeat them. We both already know that don’t we?”

Despite its lack of fairness, the exchange was still a trade, albeit an imbalanced one. So, you think. Things are set in stone already for Kento. He won’t budge. You may as well not try to delay the inevitable. So, slowly but surely, you nod, almost choking up another sob as you do so.

“I… Yeah. W-We can bake something.”

“Good. How about some cookies? It is the holiday season after all.”

Memories of joyful holidays spent with your true family flood your mind, contrasting sharply with the current reality of being trapped by a deranged stalker. As long as this manipulator holds power over you, the chances of reuniting with your loved ones grow increasingly slim. Concern gnaws at your heart – are your family members safe and sound? You can only hope for their well-being.

However, your heart reminds you that it's important to prioritize yourself. Consequently, you decide to proceed and accept whatever you can in the present moment. Whatever you can.

No matter the circumstances, you find yourself trapped in a suffocating grip. It could be the frost, the concern you harbor for your dear ones, or the relentless pressure of Kento's hands gripping you tightly until you're on the verge of breaking. Turning the heat up will only burn your flesh and not melt away anything. You are going to get hurt whether it is used or not.

I just wanted to say I love your writing and I hope you have a wonderful day.

NO! STOP! OMG!

you’re gonna make me cry /positive! 🥺

there’s a lot of good things i plan to do this friday + weekend, so hopefully you have blessed me, sweet anon, with the ability to have a wonderful time! i’m probably gonna cuddle up with my dog and cats while watching the sopranos, psychology/video game essays, bake maybe….. i also may play more pokemon pearl and nintendogs on my 3ds, along with playing more pokemon scarlet!

i may also draw my queen, my goddess, the one and only arlecchino…. i’ve been wanting to draw her for quite a while now so i may do that! she’ll kinda match the silver wolf and imbibitor lunae drawings i have on my desk.

i’m framing this ask….. THANK YOU SO MUCH! i hope you have a fabulous day too!!!! <3333

Hi, thanks for sending te rules ^^. For the request, can I please have yan mermaid Ruan Mei x fem human reader one shot? Basically, Ruan Mei meets a human and she find them interesting, but later discovers that the reader is dating. So Ruan Mei decides why not to kidnap her future darling.

please ruan mei is so pretty...... I CAN FIX HER GUYS!!

Birth of Venus.

Yan (Mermaid) Ruan Mei x F Reader.

Synopsis: Legends say the ocean’s waters are salty because of the tears of mermaids.

Warnings: Yandere themes and kidnapping.

Word Count: 700.

*~*~*~*

Upon catching sight of you for the first time, she finds herself at a loss for thoughts and emotions.

For her to lose sight of the former is as rare as her finding something not covered in rust and fading away with age on the bottom of the ocean floor. But, like those priceless moments, with her fingers gliding above and beneath a small mountain of gold coins in a treasure chest she spent more than a day trying to unlock, she could not bear herself to let go, to let something so precious go to waste. Time is of the essence though, because as much as she wants to simply take you beneath the waters with her hands, the scales on them never scarred with the color purer than that of the sky above you both, she has to wait for the right time, for everything to be set up accordingly. It is what she does best, after all, planning and soon discarding everything that provides little value to her, and perhaps soon to you, because, in the end, it is not uncommon for her to lose her emotions. They hold no significance at present or in the future, and she will release them once more in her quest for everything she desires. Thus, she patiently waits, concealed beneath the water, listening to the gentle sound of your footsteps on the sand and the joyful exclamations that escape your lips whenever you discover another seashell she intentionally left on the shoreline for you.

Everything and everyone she encounters, regardless of whether they are from the sea or the land above, bow down to her and her radiance, even creatures similar to her both in physique and intellectual prowess. She hopes the same will be what you do too, but she does not. Despite how ironic it sounds, you are the breath of fresh air she never had. She desires for you to remain unchanged, even if she resorts to preserving you as ice submerged deep beneath the ocean, thus ensuring your eternal presence. Nevertheless, she sincerely hopes this extreme measure will never be necessary.

She will try her best to ensure such.

Despite her emotions being minuscule, barely the size of a single caviar bead, she finds herself unable to articulate this indescribable sensation that threatens to overwhelm all logic she has.

Because when she caught sight of you for what felt like the hundredth time, she saw you kiss someone else by the shoreline, next to the special shell she obtained after hours upon hours of searching just for you.

For what felt like the first time in all her life, she felt sorrow, then anger, and hate. Her emotions finally gave way after all these months of observing you from afar, and tears gave way. But she doesn't know what to do now. All planning, what she has always been good at, along with her logic, which she also has been exemplary at, has all been washed away by the tides of fear, envy, and sadness. After what felt like an eternity of weeping over her loss, making the seawater get even saltier because of her tears, she concluded. She must act now, or you will be forever out of her grasp. She needs to take immediate action to regain her rationality and control her emotions once more. Despite her love for you, Ruan Mei will always be self-centered, and this fundamental aspect of her character is unlikely to change, even if she desires it. It is simply a matter of time until everything reverts to its previous state.

So, as you venture near the coast, captivated by the enchanting melodies emerging from the sea, she springs into action. With astonishing speed, so swift that you won't perceive it until it's too late, she delivers a powerful blow and drags you under the waters, where you will stay forevermore.

Do you accept requests?

well, yes at the moment, courtesy of celebrating 200 followers, until february 2nd! as long as they follow the rules and are in the fandoms for this blog. they can be either yan or non yan. (•̀ᴗ•́)و

examples of requests could be:

-> (yan) “chrollo, i’ve always liked poe over lovecraft.”

-> yan kafka + micheal bublé’s sway.

-> yan columbina and yan arlecchino help you “adjust” to your new life.