Yandere Honkai Star Rail X Reader - Tumblr Posts

I can't stop thinking of doing this with the characters

To continue with the self aware honkai star rail or SAHSR au

To explain how the aeon affinity is. For example in the aeon of melody. The player used to be an idol or a popstar. If you want to say Aeon of cooking, you could say the player used be a chef or restaurant owner.

After the aeon appeared, the mc or Caelus or Stelle started to get this feeling to return back to the space station to meet with go to where the player first manifested. March and Dan heng also get this feeling. As they

You can imagine the powers of your aeon. In my case, the aeon of melody has the ability to use the powers of that are basically reality bending but the requirements to do that is they must have heard a song that could match the effect they want by the lyrics, music video or title and if the song has more than one person singing it, they need another person to do sing or dance with them. The player has to first do the steps to dance it first and while doing that lipsyncing it or singing it live and perfect every step before unlocking the ability to do apply the effect they want. If lip syncing or singing it live, it would sound as if the original person was singing it. To help the Aeon in doing this they could see the steps on what to do if they are perfecting it the first time. If the player is dancing it while lipsyncing, it would sound as if the original singer is singing it. I will give an example to do make it easier. If the Aeon were to dance the song slow mo from the euro vision contest. They would have to do the original steps of the song while lip syncing and perfecting it to unlock the effect to slow someone down to 0.0000001 percent speed.

Second example if the player were to sing it. They need to sing the entire song and perfect the tone and keys like that to activate the effect. This only applies to song with no choreography to perform like the song "like a prayer" by Madonna. The effect would a total party revive with after being revived all part members which is a shield that is given 100% of the total Hp of all four party members.

For the third example lady gaga and Beyonce telephone, You had to perfect the choreo with someone who can do area of effect damage while not looking at their opponent. Himiko and Kafka are an example. If you had perfected this with Himiko, then you don't need to perfect it with Kafka. The effect for Telephone is basically an execute or one hit based on total Hp of each individual enemy and if the opponents were multiple lives then total Hp of all their lives if that is less than fifty percent instant kill.

Part one here

Star.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka is waiting for a supernova to appear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied future kidnapping, not SFW implications, and stalking.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lust for a Vampyr by I Monster

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Merry-Go-Round of Life - from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ by Joe Hisaishi

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

The Four Seasons - Winter in F Minor, RV. 296: I. Allegro non molto by Antonio Vivaldi

BLOODMONEY by Poppy

Fight of the Crows by Jhariah

Bernadette by IAMX

Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

Enemies to Lovers by Joshua Kyan Aalampour

“She's a Killer Queen; gunpowder, gelatin; dynamite with a laser beam; guaranteed to blow your mind (anytime).” – Queen, Killer Queen

*~*~*~*

“Hey, I like them!” You huff, grasping the bouquet of spider lilies closer to your chest, making the paper wrinkle up. At your response, Aina crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the other flower arrangements sitting on the shelves behind you.

“Those are too expensive.” Aina rebuts. She points, and you turn around to follow it, and in turn frown. 

Because of the low supply, the price of spider lily bouquets has increased to 700 credits per arrangement.

Kafka, pretending to look at the roses in the corner not facing the two of you, does not try to hide her smile and slight chuckle as you gasp at the sign’s words. “Cute…” 

Once more, you exhale with a mix of frustration and disappointment, forcefully planting your foot on the ground. Gradually, your stance transforms into that of a despondent balloon losing its air.

Utterly adorable.

“Why seven hundred? Flowers grow from the ground and they take hardly any effort to bundle up!” Aina puts her thumb and pointer finger on her temples, rubbing them like your question and exclamation just gave her the biggest headache in all of existence. She sighs.

You sigh too, grasping onto the spider lilies even harder.

“Spider lilies also represent bad luck.” She says, almost groaning. 

Neither of you know if you can be reasonable enough to let Aina be your impulse control as she always has been. “The red shade is really pretty and the tendrils are pretty too!”

“Please put them back, it is a bad financial investment.” You shake your head. “Please. [First]. [First], please. We still have to go and buy ingredients for dinner tonight. If it makes you feel better I can also help you bake dessert.”

Kafka already knows what you are going to make tonight. Pasta with bechamel sauce along with apple cake. 

“[First], at least choose a less expensive bouquet. That way we can afford everything. Plus we maybe can get something else small that is not on our grocery list.” Aina tries her best to put on a more gentle smile. “Please.”

Kafka moves to near the entrance of the food section of the store, waiting for this little trifle to be over with. She pretends to be looking at the meat aisle as that is the area closest to the flowers, ironically enough. 

“Sigh…” She purrs, imagining your hair loose and gently wrapped around her fingertips. “I wonder if you would prefer blush or velvet… maybe burgundy?” 

She imagines the way you will place your lips on hers and slowly but surely… move down.

She will do the same to you with her own.

“Maybe white.” She muses, thinking of different types of fabric to put on you. “Or perhaps black.”

Kafka wonders what you would choose if she brought you to a boutique rather than going by herself.

“Hm…” She murmurs, her mind going through many, many possibilities of the future ahead.

Then, she hears your triumphant laugh and then turns around to see you hugging Aina with the bouquet in tow. “I love you!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aina mutters, crossing her arms and looking away from your happy face with a blush. “Just put them in the basket. We’ve used enough time here as it is.” You kiss her cheek, and her face only gets redder. “L-Let’s just go already.”

You only hug her tighter.

“Sir, yes, sir!” You exclaim, saluting, and Aina rolls her eyes.

Kafka’s smile falters.

“Tsk. Young love, I suppose.”

Of all the future possibilities, none of them will result in full success if Aina is still in the picture.

“Juliets.”

At the sight of you kissing Aina’s cheek again, Kafka resists the urge to bite her lip.

“But with great risk… comes great reward.”

She imagines how you would look under her.

Aina eventually manages to pry you off of her. “Alright, that’s enough, you’re praising me like I just saved your life or something.”

“You did!” You pout, almost cooing and still laughing joyfully. “This bouquet is the only medicine that can ever heal me of what ails me!”

Both Kafka and Aina sigh at the same time but for entirely different reasons.

But Kafka is the one who also licks her lips afterward. “I think perhaps a chemise would suit you best.”

“Let’s go to the fruits first!” You exclaim, pulling Aina along by the hand while she holds the basket.

“Which type of apple?” Aina asks, but Kafka already knows the answer. “Be sure to not get the very expensive ones this time.”

You two go past Kafka.

She takes out her phone for a split second and clicks the button.

It has been the closest you have ever been to her while you were conscious. But she hopes that soon, you will be even closer.

Wait, no. She knows that you will.

“Cute.” She whispers, booping the picture of you’s nose.

This has already become a favorite amongst the many, many photos she has of you.

Where you go, she follows. “Cute.” Surely, eventually, when you know of her, you will know that all too well. “So cute.”

She sees you pointing to the apples with a pinkish tint. Rose apples. Quite rare, if Kafka remembers correctly.

As Aina reads the sign next to them, she immediately shakes her head. “Way too expensive.”

Due to the cost of importation/exportation as well as the rarity of this species, the value of this type of product is quite high. One apple is worth 1600 credits.

You surprisingly show agreement this time, promptly diverting your attention to the assortment of apple varieties, accompanied by a hint of nervous laughter.

You end up choosing the Honeycrisps. They are good for baking cakes, you tell Aina as Kafka eavesdrops as she always does.

She imagines you baking for her and sitting on her lap.

It was only a matter of time because regardless of who is with you, one thing about you never changes; your naivety.

“All that is left is to be patient.”

Demon Fire.

Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.

Synopsis: Where is this train going?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.

Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.

You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”

She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.

“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.

“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”

You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.

“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”

“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.

…

The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.

Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?

Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.

…

It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.

Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.

“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”

“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”

Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”

“...”

Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.

“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.

“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”

“...[First]’s.”

In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.

Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.

“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”

“But why?”

As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.

“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”

“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”

“...Fair.”

You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.

“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”

Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.

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.

The End.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka always sits in the front row, despite being part of the show herself.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, thoughts of violence, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich (feat. The Dixie String Quartet)

Swan Lake by HAUSER

Claus by Los Tres

Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray

Lie by BTS

She’s My Collar by Gorillaz (feat. Kali Uchis)

Cha Cha by Freddie Dredd

Michelle by Sir Chloe

MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) - SATAN’S EXTENDED VERSION by Lil Nas X

*~*~*~*

The roses are wilting.

It was destiny, fate. Such pretty things never last forever, after all, even if the entire universe wished otherwise. One way or another, they are meant to fall, like how the sun drops below where anyone can see it, being replaced with the moon, and vice versa. They fall deep, deeper than hell itself, and no one can pick them back up, unless one would be inclined to make a pact with the devil himself, doing horrendous things in his name. But Kafka has already committed such sins, so why deny doing so any longer? It is who she is. It is who you are, to be entangled in her lies and be forced to dance and to sing and to act.

With two gloved hands, she picks up the vase, spilling out the moldy water and the dying roses, the roses she got for you after you sang so well at the opera house, looking so beautiful, into the trash can underneath your makeup vanity, where little clumps of hair and emptied products always meet their end.

She’ll get you a new bouquet later. A new vase too. Perhaps instead of white roses you would like red ones instead? Kafka knows that this vase is cheap too, from one of your fellow divas, whose high notes are not as high as yours and her costumes not as elaborate or as elegant as yours.

“I honestly don’t see why you even try to befriend any of them, darling. They are all envious harpies. They can’t hold a candle to anything you do.”

You are not here, but Kafka’s mouth always has a mind of its own, so it spins lies even when your delicate, lovely ears are not in the general vicinity. Not that she minds it. But yours is what she is quite more so than trifles with, because yours is carefully controlled by her and her alone, and you, as always, don’t get a say. It’s a sort of hypocrisy, Kafka thinks, but she doesn't mind that either.

If she has to, she’ll even sew your mouth shut, your ears shut, your eyes shut, if that is what it takes for you to stay with her. She doubts it would ever come to that, though, because you are always too fragile and too trusting to tell the difference between an Iago and a Desdemona. But the latter role would much better suit you, her little flower, her princess.

You are so precious, but also a treasure prying eyes will always want to touch and see and hear. Kafka would, in all honesty, love to cut their hands and tongues off, if it did not ruin the carefully crafted image she made just for you. Maybe later, though, when all the stage lights are off.

“Lady Macbeth, hmm?” She murmurs.

She disagrees with the role you were given entirely. But, you were not one to stand up for yourself, so Kafka let it go. 

“You really ought to leave this business soon, dearest.” Kafka looks around, her arms crossed, not impressed with the room you were given in the slightest. “You can always just come with me.” She meant it. “Imagine all the sights you would see. All the food you would eat. All the gifts I would be so happy to give you. All the hugs and kisses you would receive from me. Everything… just think about it.”

She could imagine it herself. It is not hard, really, for the mind to reject all sense of logic and bow down to the whim of what is known as human emotions, mortal joys, woes, desires, wants, and needs. She could imagine sitting you on her lap as the ship jumps to the next world she will have to visit, telling you stories of the past, present, and future, as you look on with amazement. You don’t do that anymore, now. She would do anything to see it come back. She would steal a crown and place it on your head, though you having the genuine article does not make you any stronger. If anything, perhaps it would make you weaker to her whims.

“Imagine that…” She sighs, closing her eyes as she smiles. “We can go to Penacony. Your dreams would come true there if I cannot make them true myself. You can sleep on beds worth more than this entire opera house. If only you would let me. I know it would make you happy. I know it would make me happy. So why wouldn’t it make you?”

She would listen to your ultimate pains, and your ultimate wishes, and act accordingly. She loved you. You will too, again. It is only a matter of time, isn’t it? Yes, Kafka thinks, it is fate. 

…

Kafka always sits in the front row of the theater.

It does not matter whether or not she purchased the tickets for it, the seat, or the show soon to come to fruition. No one dares talk back to her, even security. She finds comfort in that. No one gets in the way of her having the chance to see you. Better yet, no one else sits in the front row when she is present.

So, she watches, one of her legs crossed over the other, her eyes never blinking. During interludes she likes to adjust her makeup accordingly, painting on another shade of crimson to her lips. Art comes in many forms, after all.

Kafka told you that once. As always, you listened dutifully as she taught you to be.

She taught you many things, not just that. She taught you how to read constellations. She helped you learn her vocabulary in the books she gave you, often long fairytales or poems. She preferred it that way when you used to be so eager to have someone be friendly to you and not want to simply use you for their own amusement, not wanting to throw you out of the opera house altogether.

The opera house may rot after it goes up in flames, in the future, if things go her way as it always does, but she’ll stay to watch it all, to take you in as you cry and as she shushes you. She’ll be happy. Maybe you will be too, for her. It matters how good your performance is, if you even want to act anymore, after all.

The lights dim, and she shows her pearl-white teeth as she grins.

Secrets of Wisteria.

Yan (Serial Killer) ??? x GN Reader.

Synopsis: They don't know what to do with you.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, gender-neutral yandere, violence/mentions of gore, thoughts of murdering the reader, manipulation, implications of sex work, mentions of starvation, drugging/alcohol, stalking, and dehumanization.

Word Count: 1.3k.

insert your fav!

*~*~*~*

It is said that everything in the universe has its place as a part of a side of a never-tipping scale.

A shining star provides warmth but also burns the flesh of those who get too close. The moon resembles that of an Earth erased of all life, a planet in all but name to some, promising to be a guiding light, but in reality is just a cold, desolate land. 

Do such beautiful stars ever scorch the adjacent moons? Do such pale, blue moons ever cause the brightness of adjacent stars to die with a shallow, husky breath? Do they simply stay with one another, because despite being able to hurt one another, the chain of space forces them to stay together?

Questions that, because of you and because of them, may finally be answered. It hurts them but also entices them.

Despite everything you had been through together, you had hurt them in ways no others have ever done.

They suffer whenever they are near enough to smell your perfume, wanting to close up their nostrils, throat, and mouth before they go down in a flame of their own making. 

The perfume is mixed with the scent of others’ sweat and pleasure, staining it in what feels to be shades of a dirty, dark black. If only you could see it, the blind fool you always were and still are.

They suffer whenever they hear your voice, see the way your lips move, your moans and little gasps. It sounds more tempting than that of a siren’s call.

Your face, the way you bat your eyelashes to get what you want. Your eyes are brighter than any supernova.

Their entire being is a black hole that wants nothing more than to swallow you.

You hurt them whenever they think of you, never wanting to burn an image of you so deeply into their brain. But, like a parasite, you unknowingly persisted. Now it is so rooted, that it has replaced some of their nerves and has left them wanting so much more. They are addicted to this poison you have created and forced down their throat. It is only fair that they get to do the same to you.

They put something in your drink to make everything down the road that much easier.

Being a blind fool, you didn’t notice that your wine turned into a deep shade of pink.

Pink in your cup, and red in theirs. The colors of love.

They didn’t have it in themselves, despite all of the unfortunate souls they have banished to hell, to put cyanide in your glass.

It would have been a much more merciful death in their opinion, though. It was fitting for a rat like you. But also will give you so much less pain than those who have met their end by a torturous blade.

You gulped it down with such ease. They were, to say the least, your favorite patron, giving you no reason to doubt them.

It was so hard to make money these days, especially in a town like this. You were grateful for them.

But still, you decided to hurt them.

It’s your fault, honestly—all of it. You are the sole reason that their kills aren’t as sharp as they used to be, so much more impulsive than they used to be.

They almost got caught just the other day. They had sprung into action without a thought in their mind to go for a person who looked just like you from behind, down to the clothes they wore.

It's all your fault. It's all your fault.

Whore.

That is what they want to say.

But they cannot, not yet at least.

…

“Come, we are almost there.” With each step down the stone stairs, a water droplet falls from above, the underground tunnel’s top.

These walls are older than some dynasties if their memory recalls. Made of the bones of traitors and peasants who have passed on from much more painful pains.

It was easy to sneak some of their victims’ bodies in here and place them in such a way that no one would ever know the truth.

“Why here, my dear sponsor?” Your eyes follow the lantern in their left hand, swinging left and right like a pendulum.

They don’t answer.

You don’t ask any more questions, your limbs feeling heavy from all of the walking and the alcohol.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

The rocks below you feel like they are moving. “Sure.”

You must have gone so deep into the earth by now that you can practically see the gates of hell. The lantern’s light is almost out, and the air feels heavy and damp.

“We are almost there.”

You feel so dizzy.

They feel so elated.

Not a word is said until they suddenly stop. A split path.

They point to the left.

You wait, but they do not move.

A second. Two. Three.

Is that uncertainty they see in your eyes?

That is new. It makes them excited for what is to come next.

“Simply go down that hall and you will see the cellar… I will be right behind you.” They added that last part to quell your questioning gaze.

They have never lured anyone here alive before. But like everyone else who has seen these catacombs and their cellar, you won’t leave them alive.

They can’t leave you as much as they try.

It is only natural that they use the chain that holds you two together to their advantage for once.

Their truth works. Your second thoughts vanish like the trapdoor and the ladder down the hall, to the beginning, an entrance to a hell you will never be able to open again.

It is quite fortunate to them that you are such a blind fool.

It is quite fortunate to them that you overlooked that skeleton that looked a little too fresh.

It is quite fortunate that they are such a good planner. They didn’t starve the man for nothing, it seems.

“...Alright. But… I will get my pay after this, won’t I?”

They nod.

“Of course.” They reply. “What sort of patron would I be if I did not give you what is due?”

Such a blind fool you are.

They’ll keep you. You are simply too stupid and too tempting to be free. “...Thank you.”

Along with the words of genuine gratitude, the flame finally extinguishes.

“...Huh?”

A swift chop is the last thing you hear, your body collapsing is the last thing you feel and see before you go unconscious.

“For everything.”

They don’t drag you like they do the others, instead putting in the effort to pick you up and curl your head into their chest.

“...”

This brings back memories both bitter and sweet for them. The first time you laid on the bed. The first time you kissed them. The first time they managed to drag someone else unconscious down here, although with much less care.

“...I mean it.”

They cleaned up everything in the cellar just for you, all of the gore disposed of. Though their trophies will remain. The brain of a doctor in a jar. The eyes of a photographer. The left hand of a young widow, the ring still on the rotting finger.

It will serve as a warning to you to behave, hopefully, for your sake. Making them angry is a bad idea for everyone involved. They would hate to bandage your broken limbs and stitch you back together like some stuffed toy. 

As they hum a tune only you have heard, they think of what collar to place on that pretty neck of yours. It is an important decision. That collar will stay on you far past when you are mounted on their wall, after all. But that is years if not decades away.

“...Thank you. You made everything so much easier.”

The scale tips in favor of the pale blue moons.

*~*~*~*

Hunter x Hunter - Feitan, Hisoka, Illumi.

My Hero Academia - Dabi, Bakugou, Shigaraki, Overhaul, Enji.

Jujutsu Kaisen - Geto, Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku, Mahito, Mei Mei.

Genshin Impact - (Fatui Harbinger/Fake Archon) Scaramouche, Arlecchino, Columbina, Dottore.

Honkai Star Rail - Sparkle, (Mara Struck) Jingliu, (Mara Stuck) Blade, Kafka, Dr. Ratio.

Bungou Stray Dogs - Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Final Fantasy VII - Sephiroth.

Demon Slayer - Muzan, Sanemi.

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor, Valentino, Vox.

Twisted Wonderland - Jade, Floyd, Leona, Rook, Lilia, Vil, Jamil.

Chainsaw Man - Makima, Barem.

Baldur's Gate III - (Ascended) Astarion, Cazador, Shar, Rapheal, Minthara, Mizora, Zariel.

*~*~*~*

free pdf of the cask of amontillado if anyone's interested!

Fly Me to the Moon.

Yan Jingliu x F Reader.

Synopsis: “You looked at me like I was made of stardust, and told me that even the moon above us could not compare to the brightness in my eyes.”

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

i’m so sorry if i’m wrong about xianzhou landscapes lol…

*~*~*~*

The Xianzhou Luofu’s eclipses are as rare as someone who can walk on water.

Moons come and go across the Flagships’ skies as they make their way throughout the galaxy, and so do the suns. They all change from pink to red to gray, and none of them stay for long. Unlike what the Abundance teaches its creations, life has its way of teaching that nothing lasts forever. Permanence is but a fantasy and only those who are blind fools seek out such a blasphemous dream.

But if it is a blind fool you must be to see her whole for the first time, you will gladly be one.

You met just a fragment of her oh so long ago, under the very covered sun that was oh so rare. You dared not to look away from her as she moved towards you like clockwork, her sword dragging across flowered ground. The moon was white, and so were the blossoms. So was her hair, which looked like a bundle of shooting stars. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown either. An expression as neutral as water.

She had a black blindfold over her eyes that had the sign of a crescent moon.

To you, she was brighter than the eclipse above.

You two moved together in a circle, a cautious waltz, but also an enticed one. Curiosity.

“You are a Cloud Knight, aren’t you?” She asked. The grip on her blade’s handle loosened just slightly. “I can tell by the spear you hold.”

You nodded, and a chuckle quieter than the gentlest wind escaped her lips.

You took a step backward as she took one forward. It was not out of fear but at the very least well-meant care—a dance crafted from years of training under daylight and starlight.

…

Now, hundreds of moons later, you take a step backward as she now takes three forward. Fear controls you like a puppet as you point your spear, which has by this point been remodeled and repaired from many battles with the Abominations of the Abundance. Daylight and starlight become one with the same snow-white eclipse in the sky.

She is smiling. Her sword no longer glides along sprouted soil, but a stone path painted with the blood of your fellow soldiers. Her blindfold is off, her eyes the very image of a hollow, depraved husk. Mara.

She does not chuckle when your hands shake, but rather she loudly laughs.

It is the farthest thing from gentle.

…

Jingliu has many presences, but none of them last for very long. Some stay for a week at most without issue, but those are rare and so far distanced from one another. She lets you leave, most days, to go buy tea from the market or to go sit down and feed the birds or to let you practice aiming your weapon at the training dummy she placed outside your living quarters. 

When she first brought you here, she told you that you are free to duel her whenever you wish. Win, she said, and you can leave whenever you wish too.

The only thing is you can never manage to even touch her.

The uncharted areas around the cottage she acquired for both of you are dark, and the only places where there is light are the ones that have straight and narrow paths, paths to the few places Jingliu allows you to go unsupervised. Or is the definition of unsupervised in Jingliu’s world is to have you watched from a few kilometers back?

You cannot tell. Nor do you want to know the answer, because you know the truth will stomp on your hope like it was a lowly insect.

You also don’t walk alone at night for reasons like those. You cannot see anything, only hear and think.

You cannot see Jingliu if she is watching you from behind.

Even though she swears on her honor that she does not follow you closely.

You can hear Jingliu’s breathing though, how desperate she can sound, or how calm she can sound. It all depends on what moon shines through the brightest.

…

Meals with Jingliu are always the same.

No matter what her mood is at that particular moment, she always stares at you from across the table.

Sometimes her hair is well-kept, on days when she is happier and more active in her self-care. Sometimes she bats her eyes at you. Sometimes she seems to stare past you, to the unlit fireplace or the vase of flowers near the entrance door. Her stares can turn into glares in an instant, or her glares can turn into loving gazes. You wish most days that she wouldn’t be so distant, but you don’t want her to be suffocating with her affection either.

You just want the best of both worlds. An eclipse.

“How is it?”

Your attention is abruptly captured. Her gaze appears slightly less serene yet intensifies, while yours remains filled with doubt. Your hand ceases the motion of guiding the fork towards your mouth, descending listlessly onto the table.

“Is something the matter, [First]?” Genuine confusion on both of your parts.

“...N-No.” As you lower your gaze and gently shut your eyelids, your whole body quivers uncontrollably, leaving you powerless over its movements. “It’s good.”

“Are you sure?” Your gaze evades her as if being controlled by a small prey animal’s instinct. Your heart races, as if on the verge of a sudden collapse. “You can tell me if something is wrong with the food.”

Your fingers interlock with such force that you fear they might leave imprints on your skin.

“No, no… it’s good, really.”

She tilts her head. “You aren’t eating, though.” You hear the sound of a chair being dragged, a sure sign that she is standing up. “You can be truthful with me, dearest. I won’t be upset.”

Gazing out the window, you offer no response. The sound of her sigh reaches your ears, yet your focus lies elsewhere. A single leaf gracefully twirls upon the surface of the nearby pond, without a care in the world. You hope it will not drown.

The Chauffeur.

Yan Aventurine x F Reader.

Synopsis: Life has always made losers out of people like you. You dream even now that that could be changed. But can it really?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, drugging, misogyny, abuse of power, and mentions of violence.

Word Count: 3.2k.

*~*~*~*

When thrust into a world filled with illusions of chance, one can only hope that change will soon arise.

The company, the appearances, the losers, the winners; nothing ever changes, not even the dreams that things will.

How you are treated is a gamble all on its own too, despite you wishing it were not so. Lady Luck has yet to smile upon you, but instead of gifting you with snake eyes, she gives you the utmost displeasure of being slapped, being threatened, or having your salary lowered. You sometimes wish she would just give you the lowest score on a physical die instead of an invisible one.

You wish she would have made you less appealing to unwanted stares, would have made you have a burned face that would scare off anyone as soon as they looked at you. Hell, even make you be an old woman begging for spare change. That would be a better existence than to live in this body, where you are forced to wave and smile and conceal the bruises and slap marks whenever they appear in a place not covered by your dress. Not that your dress covers anything.

You have three jobs in this casino. Your first one is to spin the wheel or make the letters visible after all the bets are placed and the speaker gives you the signal to do so. Your second one is to always look presentable, your boss’s definition of “best”. Appearances will bring in more onlookers, he said. Just get yourself all dolled up. Okay, toots?

You conform every time your clothes change in color, size, and pattern because after all, they could just replace you with someone more willing.

After all, you have your mouth to feed and your own back to clothe.

So, you endure not all of it, but most of it. You endure the times your assigned makeup artist has called you a whore for not letting him stay in your room during his breaks, the times the suited mascot of this place squeezed you a bit too tight when you were told to take a few photos with him. You pretend not to notice things like that, because if you start a conflict who knows what will happen?

The applause of onlookers is always paired up with lewd comments about your body instead of congratulations to the winner.

The heels you are paid to wear always manage to make you trip onto someone, or rely on some flirty stranger to help you walk to and fro. Your manager told you to grow your hair out when you first started working here, and when it finally reached the desired length he gave you very few options when it came to which hairstyle you wanted. If you remember correctly, it couldn’t have been more than four. All of them had curtain bangs and waves. There was even one, you think, that had something to do with bleaching.

You opted for the one that let you keep the most of your natural hair pattern, not that that was a lot. 

Your dresses always come with a slit to see one of your legs. Temptations bring in more dreams, and with dreams come people wanting to be big shots. That is what your boss said to you after you questioned your given work wardrobe. You did not want his glare and mocking laugh to be aimed at you any longer, so you nodded and went to change. He praised you for it later, but your brain protected itself by not remembering what he said.

All you can recall is the way you shuttered at him wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders,  a lit cigarette in his hand.

You don’t shutter as often anymore after he scowled and threatened to place it on your palm.

Your world is simpler than it was before when you were sleeping on the streets and given just barely enough to scrape by. You only have three jobs to do, but the third one holds the most importance. Sabotage the gamble. Never let them win unless they hold enough power that your boss permits you to stand back.

There have been very few instances of that happening, but they happen nonetheless. They are this casino’s equivalent of a blue moon. There are telltale signs before you are told of their status. Their clothes are always glittering like an invisible spotlight is on them. They always have guards, and people sticking to their arms like glue just itching for a taste. It is an even rarer sight to see one of them being chosen to be their partner for the night. You can tell when a person can buy you off with their proportion of pocket change. Not that anyone has, much to your gratitude.

This man is just like them. You can sense the ego dripping off of him, and can sense how much all those rings on his fingers cost.

This is the real deal. You can tell. That earring of his is probably worth twice that of all of your organs. That is being generous with the price you would most likely hold on the black market. In reality, perhaps thrice. That is not even going into his pink sunglasses, which have tiny gems stuck on the sides. 

He has a gun holster, you think, but the gun itself is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps one of his men is holding it for him. Perhaps.

From the corner of your eye, you see your boss amongst the crowd, nodding slowly at you. He is sitting in a booth a bit more distanced from the others, three women on either side of him. Every time he sits there, it is your first signal that something is surely going to happen. Good or bad. This time it is good, and you will end the night with nothing less than a few thousand credits for playing your part well. Last time it was bad, and you ended up having so much more than a simple slap on the wrist.

He has three dice between his pointer and middle fingers. One green, one teal, and one dark blue. They are each twelve-sided from what you can see, but the sigils remain unseen by you. Maybe for the best, you think, you don’t want him to take up as much memory space as he already has.

All you want is for this shift to be over, but with this unplanned patron skipping the line of gamblers to gamble himself, who knows how long until the dice stops rolling?

Your fellow staff members look happier, displaying genuine smiles on their faces. Not that you can blame them though, most of them are new hires because your boss tends to fire people on the daily.

“Hold on a sec, please. Madam, I would like to use my lucky charms before you spin the wheel. If you don’t mind, that is.” The man requests. It is not a sincere question, you note, because he clasps onto the dice in his palm so lightly like they are gravity-resistant.

Instead of looking at him, you look at your boss first. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you any longer with what looks like one of the women being straddled on his left thigh. Hmm. It’s your call then, you suppose. 

“Sure,” You answer, trying to put on your best polite grin. “Who am I to deny such an… experienced gambler?”

“Thank you for the praise,” He replies, his free arm bending as he scratches the back of his head. “But you… misunderstand, I am just a simple bettor, nothing more.”

The positioned desk with a microphone attached has just become this casino’s newest playing ground. Faster than you can blink, the dice are let out of his hand and roll. When they stop, you can hear cheers and praises, as if they are all meant for him. 

A spotlight is focused on him too, a color more dazzling than the brightest glittering gold.

“I’m going to choose the peach.”

You nod and spin the wheel, all of the colors blurring together, slowly but surely soon coming to a stop.

The pink area with the same peach is on the pointer, and the crowd all clap their hands and dance.

*~*~*~*

During your breaks, you are allowed to go to your recovery room to do whatever limited array of activities your bookshelf and dusty boxes under your bed had in store for you. The breaks are always nothing more than half an hour, but you earned the right to have your breaks’ minimal times be nothing less than ten minutes.

“I just… noticed you never play the games you so often assist, that’s all.” The blond stranger continues to follow as you speedily walk down the hallway to the backrooms. Little by little, the golden paint that coats the walls turns into a dull beige, a sure sign that your treasured little hiding place is near.

“I wish I could but right now I have my lunch break, sir.”

His speed is nowhere near diminishing, no, if anything it is getting more profound.

If you did not have unwanted company, if you did not have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, if you did not have this job you hate to your very core, you would have torn the high heels off of your blistered feet.

But you cannot because you do have unwanted company, you do have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, you do have this job you hate to your very core. So, the high heels stay on and make sounds with every step you take.

“Come on, Miss [First]. I know you want to.” You have been unable to get him off your back for the past ten minutes. Even when you attempted to walk around the less crowded parts of this casino in circles, he was there. “[First]. A lovely name, if I say so myself. [First], [First], [First].”

It takes everything in you not to frown or cross your arms. That could be considered rude, especially to someone as high standing as this man. “Utmost sincere apologies, sir, but I really-”

“Aventurine.” He interrupts. “It’s Aventurine, Miss. You don’t have to call me sir, you know. We’re alone here in this stank hallway. Without my money, I’m just like you, and I’m sure we can become great friends.”

“In my opinion, I believe that there are better people than me to form connections with, Mister Aventurine.” You try not to huff in frustration, but you could have sworn that one was let out.

In the distance, you see your recovery room, the number two on it turning off and on every few seconds.

It has always been that way. The only one who often gets renovations to their living quarters is your boss. The rest of you are nothing more than cow fodder to him, even his assistants.

“You should head back, Mister Aventurine.” You say, the smile on your face trying its hardest not to fade as you turn to look at him. “I don’t want your seat at the pinball machine to be taken from you.”

“And who do you think would have the guts to steal from me?” Aventurine smirks, one of his hands lowering his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “No one is that suicidal, that’s the hard truth.”

He winks at you faster than you can get a grip on your door’s handle. 

“Just think about it, m’kay?”

In a flash, he starts walking off, leaving you all alone.

*~*~*~*

“Ah, you’re back!”

Aventurine is at the start of the hallway, the part where the gold paint is the most pronounced.

“My break ended.” You say your answer quickly and simply as you walk past him. Instead of your high heels, you are wearing black flats.

Your feet were bleeding much more than usual when you finally made it to your room. Yeah. That is the excuse you will give to your boss if he asks. He seems drunk and is still at his little booth, not to mention it is dark in the casino at the moment, so there is quite a low chance he will.

“You don’t look so good.” Aventurine nearly shouts, causing you to walk even faster to make it to the wheel of fortune. “Did something happen?”

His voice is soon drowned out by the crowds of people talking. Just a few more seconds. A few more seconds, and he won’t be able to bother you much longer and he will head back to that pinball machine he has been hoarding for the past hour. 

You move past the ogling eyes of drunk consumers and move past the guards, who always let you behind the stage without a hassle. Your flats don’t make nearly as much noise as the heels as you walk up the five steps.

You only have three minutes before the curtains withdraw from their positions, so you pull on your bun to make it tighter and put the stray baby hairs behind your ears. You brush any dust off your dress and then brush off any dust that is on the gambling wheel. The cleaners only work after all the shows are done and all the guests go home, so it is up to you to make sure the show is always looking its best.

You hear the countdown from the electric speakers and the onlookers.

“Five! Four!”

You take a few deep breaths.

“Three!”

You hear the confetti cannons turn on.

You close your eyes and think about the best possible future, one where you can be happy. Where you can be yourself. Where your smiles are real. Where your happiness is real. Reading for as much as your heart desires. Trying all the delicious-looking food no matter how strange it may look. 

“Two!”

Instead of hearing the number one, you just hear more cheers.

The curtains move to the designated sides of the stage, and the near-blinding spotlight shines at you. You smile, waving at the crowds of people, until you see something that nearly causes your facade to crumble down.

Aventurine stands there at the start of the line, holding his three dice just like before.

*~*~*~*

You avoid Aventurine just long enough for the casino to close for the night. It was not an easy task by any means, but somehow retreating to the bar on the job and making simple conversations with other patrons and fellow staff members was enough to repel him.

Since it is after hours, the bartender has gone back to his room to sleep after downing five shots of Spade. He will be hungover tomorrow, that much is certain.

Ah, to only work when it is far past dusk. A dream only for your boss’s most favored employees. Aside from the bartender, there is his guard, who has been seen for the past few months being so drunk that he cannot even stand; he has to sit on the floor.

There is no room for you in that little club. But your gut tells you that it is better this way, for no one unfavored can see what goes on inside.

It is only you in this bar now, spinning around on the stool closest to the gates that lead to the other side. It’s you. Despite this job, despite everything, you are still you. All you ever have to be is you. Only you.

The glass in front of you is half full. Half full with Melancholy. It is only slightly bitter, the rest of the flavor profile being floral and refreshing. This type of shot glass is only reserved for people as high standing as Aventurine due to the little scattering of gold at the rim. 

They are stuck there so they won’t choke whoever is drinking from the cup. For once, your boss put his resources into something partially useful. If only he would do the same with your salary and put some more credits into it.

The door’s chiming bell rings. You hear the front door then close. Did the bartender forget to lock the door?

Should you say something? You don’t want to get in trouble with your boss tomorrow, and his hangover will certainly make his wrath ten times worse than it already was.

The sound of footsteps doesn't fade, and another sound accompanies it soon enough; Aventurine’s voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to drop by. See what you’re doing this late all alone, you know?” 

Before you can turn around and politely ask him to leave, he sits on the stool beside you. Vibrant eyes make contact with yours.

A hand goes on your shoulder, squeezing with a purpose; to keep you quiet.

“Are you drunk? You smell like Blossom Dew and Soothing Soda. Heavily.” 

He's exaggerating, you know this. You've barely had a sip. It's not nearly enough to get you intoxicated. Not at this early into the after-hours. You still need to have a few more beverages before heading to your room for the night.

“Mister Aventurine, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” As he chuckles, your body instinctively reacts, possibly as a protective response. You wouldn’t blame it for acting this way, even under ordinary circumstances.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making orders like that. Maybe if you worked for the IPC, but you’d have to work at the speed of light to get anything close to my ranking.” His hands slither from his sides to your glass, tilting it so he can see the dark yellow liquid within it. “Hmm. Do you not have a high alcohol tolerance, Miss [First]?”

“I do.” You rebuke. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t think I should believe you, honestly.” With one of his hands, he takes off his pink sunglasses, putting them beside your cup. “Maybe if you drank the rest of it in one gulp.” With a slam, he puts a stack of credits on the table. “Go on, do it and I’ll give you enough credits to leave Penacony forever. I promise.”

Who are you to decline such an enticing proposition, despite your distaste for the man's company? This employment, with all its hardships, can vanish if you are simply granted the funds. Thus, you hastily consume the remainder of your beverage without deliberation.

You’re too focused on the bet at hand to notice the unusual saltiness.

With a wide grin, he applauds enthusiastically, his cheers echoing through the stillness. However, his clapping abruptly ceases, leaving behind an unexpected emptiness. In its place, a throbbing headache emerges, surpassing the intensity of any typical morning-after discomfort.

The fall into a state of unconsciousness is far from effortless; it feels more like a sudden, jarring blow to the face, sharp and agonizing. 

“I’ll keep my word, that is a gambler's responsibility after all."

Can you write for black swan as a yandre?

Lovers Forever, Until The World Falls Down.

Yan Black Swan x F Reader.

Synopsis: Her tarot cards are just as well used to predict the past as they are to predict the future.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, major spoilers for Honkai: Star Rail 2.0 and 2.1 Updates, implied stalking, and mentions of violence/character deaths.

Word Count: 1.3k.

*~*~*~*

When Black Swan’s eyes first lay upon you, she has multiple impressions of you.

The Remembrance has caused her to have manifolds of judgments, some lapses and others more thorough. But never once did the Remembrance ever cause her to be so deeply enveloped in someone that she would proudly showcase what Fuli has blessed her with.

She knows what you are, all of you. Your past, present, and future… all of it is seen within the eyes of the Garden of Recollection.

It is only natural for her to want you to know her as much as she knows you. With social creatures comes the need to connect. When it comes to Black Swan, her wants and her needs are equally important, and thus she has no need to separate them.

“What brings you to me, fair maiden? What ails you?”

The only sounds that arise from you are slight grumbles, and the only fresh sights she has of you are fading tear stains on your cheeks. As a response, she repeats her words softer this time, crosses one of her legs over the other, and rests her head on one of her gloved hands.

“I want…” You start, clenching your nails into your palms so deep they almost bleed. “To know the… thing that killed my friend, Memokeeper.”

In her other hand are a few of her beloved tarot cards, tucked so lovingly between her pointer and middle fingers. 

“Ah,” Black Swan lets out a sigh so gentle you do not hear it. “I presume you are speaking of Miss Robin?”

You nod, looking down at your lap as she lays out the cards in a simple, singular motion on the table.

“Who else would I be talking about?” Your tone is that of an angry hiss, but she knows it is not directed at her. For you, you two had only just met. But to her, with the powers that come with the followers of the Remembrance, it feels like she has known you your entire life.

Black Swan’s gaze is all-seeing, and nothing that is not in the dark can be unseen once she has seen it–even when she wishes it were otherwise, like that dance she had with that Galaxy Ranger.

She wishes now that perhaps she was dancing with you instead.

“Pick a card,” The Memokeeper requests, her now free hand gesturing towards the sight she had just made. “We’ll continue from there.”

“Why?”

She shakes her head slightly as she closes her eyes for a moment. From that expression on your face, she can tell that you have to stop yourself from scoffing at her. “Just trust me; I don’t mean any ill will towards you… and nor will I harbor any.”

“I’ve heard odd things like this about you, Miss Black Swan, but I didn’t think they would have been true.” She knows the comment is not an insult, but it is not a compliment either. “Do people blessed by the Remembrance always act like this? I’m… just curious is all.”

When you point to the card on the center’s right. “Are you planning to replace me already? I thought we were getting along quite well…” 

She turns over the card as her palm faces you, and that causes you to loudly gasp. 

“The Eternal Freeze… Jarillo-VI.”

She turns over the card on the center’s left without asking you to pick another. She stifled a chuckle.

 “Cocolia Rand. A Silvermane Guard trapped in what looks to be a block of ice…”

One after the other, things are revealed. It is faster than either of you could catch your breath. It is faster than what you wanted it to go. It is not faster than the realization that hits when Black Swan connects all your memories into a perfectly completed puzzle.

“Stop it-”

“You have lost someone before, haven’t you?” She can imagine… no, presume, the suffocating atmosphere surrounding you, as you appear on the verge of gasping for air. “You couldn’t save them either… Am I right, Miss [First]?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t look angry anymore. Despite the venomous nature of her words, her tone manages to grow even gentler as she utters them.

“Despite everything you tried to do, you couldn’t save them… Who were they, if you don’t mind me asking such a thing, oh dear citizen of Belobog?”

You avert your gaze from her, once again opting not to respond. Black Swan patiently waits, arranging the cards in her hand to create a semi-circle. As a Memokeeper, she has acquired numerous lessons from the Remembrance, but the most valuable one is knowing the significance of patience.

The fingers that wrap around your own are both warm and freezing cold.

“My… partner.”

She tilts her head to the side, her lips pursing up into a kind smile. “Ah… I see… I didn’t know.” She lies. “I’m sorry for your loss. But… my apologies for saying this… if you couldn’t even save your partner from the blizzard, I believe you cannot avenge Miss Robin’s death.”

Your eyebrows simply furrow like she expected them to.

“For Peniconians, death is a grand illusion, a state of falsehood, something that is not supposed to exist within the Dreamscape… thus, something much more powerful than you or I or even the Family had to break the rules of the Harmony and become… well… Death.”

When Black Swan’s eyes look at new tears as they start to fall, she has only two impressions of you, the others fading away like an amnesiac’s memories.

“I don’t mean any harm when I tell you this. It is the truth, plain and simple.”

Her hand squeezes slightly against yours. Once again, you do not respond.

“You do not have to fight something you cannot defeat.” She scoots her chair slightly closer to your side of the table.

She is met by a few more moments of quietness before you ultimately choose to break the silence. “Her death will be in vain then. Just like theirs. I do not want to be a coward anymore.”

Another sigh escapes her lips, and once again it is not out of exhaustion but rather curiosity.

Her grin remains unwavering, just as she had taught herself to. “You were never a coward in the first place, dear.”

Black Swan continues to move her chair quietly, but not at all subtly, until your thighs touch hers.

“I really won’t be able to… at least help the Family?” You ask. “I am really not… useful?”

“You’re useful in other ways to the people you love and trust, and those who reciprocate.” Her initial judgment is that you require safeguarding from the dangers of the world. It is in your best interest, her best interest, to remain inside a safe and small space, as there is a risk of you inadvertently harming yourself while attempting to assist others.

“Am I?” You mutter, clasping your hands together. “Am I… really? People… really like me?”

She affirms with a slight movement of her head.

Black Swan's second opinion of you is that you pose too great of a risk to be released, as it would result in her being left alone without any chance of ever seeing you again.

It is selfishness that prevents her from showing the two remaining cards, both hidden elsewhere. One of which has the depiction of you dead, and the other has you smiling proudly as she watches from afar in hiding.

The Remembrance has taught Black Swan how to be many things, but it is Black Swan who has taught herself how to be selfish.

The Country of the Blind.

Yan Blade x GN (Stellaron Hunter) Reader. 

Synopsis: You had one job. You already hear Kafka’s scolding from several galaxies away.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, hostage situation/forced servitude, descriptions of corpses/violence, and manipulation.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

“You were supposed to guard the cargo.”

Blade doesn’t move his legs a single inch toward or away from you. He continues to wipe the blood off his sword with two of his fingers, silent. You were used to violence and death at this point of your life; hell, you grew up surrounded by it all the time.

But… this… this is…

Unnecessary, and against the protocol Kafka had told both of you before setting you off on this hijacked ship. No bloodshed unless one of the employees acts up, and even then you two keep it to the bare minimum it takes for them to get back to work. We still need them.

“Do you have any idea what this means for me?” You glare, crossing your arms as you look down at the mush of what used to be a human at your feet. 

“Mm.” Blade murmurs.

“What the hell is all of this then?”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I do,” You huff.

When Blade looks at you, you feel your heart drop to your stomach. He’s reverting from being mara-struck again, but the unnatural light in his eyes is still there, watching you.

Will… you be next?

No.

He wouldn’t.

“I told you back then, [First]. I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to.”

He crouches a bit – slowly, but uncaring of the corpse he steps on to get closer to you.

“You are no Kafka. You can’t control the mara.”

Those words hurt more than they should. But they are true. You’re no Kafka… but you are [First].

“So what? Those orders came directly from her. I am supposed to be your retainer. Stop forgetting that, Blade.” He stands back up, and you can swear your legs are about to give way to the bloodied floor below.

“The point still stands,” With a heavy stomp and a loud squelch, what is left of the worker’s skull is reduced to wet dust.

“It does-”

“However, I don’t forget you’re my retainer, [First], but… it seems you forget who I am, not the other way around.”

You look behind him, to the other poor worker frozen in terror who was supposed to be cleaning this shared room of yours.

“Room service can never be so bad that it would make anyone want to murder someone who makes bare minimum wage.”

“They messed up your order,” Blade rebuttals. “And they forgot to wash your sheets.”

“The point still stands.”

“It doesn’t.” His fingers go back to wiping his sword.

“You’re ridiculous.” You sneer. No response.

A silent warning to shut up for now. Kafka warned you of this when you first followed Elio’s path. Your ‘destiny’ as she and him like to call it. 

*~*~*~*

“All of us are each other’s destiny. Your hands are my hands. Your words are my words. We lend out our hearts and souls and gain unimaginable joy in return.”

Kafka smiles. You continue to bow to your superiors. Only four wanted to introduce themselves, but you’re aware that there are more. 

“You can stop bowing, [First],” Firefly says after a few moments of silence.

Thinking of it as another order, your spine is a straight line as you salute to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You… really don’t have to call me that.”

“Do you prefer sir?” You ask, your face and tone still fierce. 

“Just… Firefly, please.”

“Understood.” 

“The same for me. Just Silver Wolf is fine, feel free to give me a nickname though… if you’re good at Kaihon that is.”

“Pardon?”

“Sigh… another NPC…”

“I’m sorry, I am not following.”

“She’s talking about Blade,” Firefly points to the man staring from the far corner of the room.

“Bladie,” Kafka croons. “Come a little closer.”

*~*~*~*

“The tea just came with oat milk and not soy,” You grumble, crossing your arms. “It’s not a crime-”

“It’s their job to listen to directions.”

“No. That’s your job.” You correct. The janitors came just a few minutes ago once you rang the service bell. One of them fainted while another vomited. A fair reaction, all things considered. Not only are they forced to be on this ship per Kafka’s idea to make it easier to enter this planet’s underwater cities, but your partner just had to act up at any minor inconvenience. 

“I disagree.”

“Sil’s right. You’re… just… so selfish.” You spit out the last two words as if you were choking on sand. Perhaps even small remnants of shells, with how you couldn’t breathe for a fraction of a millisecond. 

“That is part of the job, is it not?” Blade asks. He turns his head to the side. The confusion seems genuine, so you decide not to use an insult as an answer this time around.

“We as Stellaron Hunters follow the Path of Finality. We… fight our destiny, yes. But we still look out for each other.” You rest your bandaged hand on your collarbone area. Blade’s eyes widened at the sight. You aren’t sure why, you had had this injury for a few system hours. Unless…

Unless… he didn’t notice?

Was… he really that distracted with gutting that servant and fantasizing about making swords out of their bones?

You decide not to think about it for now. Partnering up with Blade guarantees a path to the top, but how bumpy and perilous that path is is up to him and him alone. So, you keep quiet. Sip after sip of the chamomile tea, Blade’s breathing gets louder. Wait. No. Slower.

“They cleaned up the mess,” You say, looking out the window to see the beautiful coral reefs all around the ocean floor. “Their family is onboard this ship too, per Kafka’s orders. I’ll attend the cremation tomorrow if they would let me. As for you…” Blade looks at you no further, staring down at his unwashed, red hands. “Just please… guard Silver Wolf’s virus.”

He just nods.

Well.

That ends that, right?

Black and Blue.

Yan Blade x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Blade has a habit of leaving swords on his opponents’ graves. You have a habit of picking flowers near those who are dead. Unfortunately for you, those two things combined had you meet the immortal Stellaron Hunter for the first time.

Warnings: Yandere themes, descriptions of past violence, and implications of a future unhealthy relationship/stalking.

Word Count: 700.

*~*~*~*

“Why… are you staring at me?”

Your body isn’t well covered, Blade notes as he steps a bit back to take in the full sight of you. Your arms are paler than the snow here.

One of your hands grasps the stems of the flowers you had just plucked from an important resting place. It’s deep and just as old as Blade is judging by the crumbled stone bricks and withering vines yet none of the winter elements seem to cover it. Someone or some people must keep it clean to honor the dead. 

Your grip is so tightly that the thorns have dug into your skin and have started to make you bleed. Aside from the roses, your wounds and Blade’s eyes are the only bright red things in the vicinity. 

The clouds of Morana haven’t set in a long time. They cast over this planet like a mist so thick Blade had trouble navigating himself to the top of this mountain. The humans here have angered the long-fallen Aeon, causing her to seek revenge on her people.

It isn’t the first time an Aeon has made sure their followers have tragic fates ahead. Blade knows, and so do people that the Xianzhou have long removed from their historical records.

“You’re a thief,” He replies, his voice slow and steady – afraid that you will run if he is too harsh. “This grave belongs to the late Caterina the Great.”

“Flowers only grow here and nowhere else,” You reply, your tone less scared but more annoyed now. Perhaps you have realized that Blade isn’t from Morana. “It’s too cold down there. This is the only way I can pay for food without stealing it. Please understand…”

He only hums as he listens further, yet he only tries to make sense of his emotions in this present moment.

Is this pity he feels?

No. It’s something else.

Something not like pity, but relatability. 

You have been through plenty; it is as obvious as a fact like a dog’s nature is to be loyal. Your clothes are tattered. You’re shivering from having no warm place to go. But unlike when he was a wanderer with nowhere to go and nothing to hold but his sword, you could die in so many ways here. Someone can have you executed if there are other witnesses to you stepping on a war hero’s grave so carelessly. The elements can freeze your bloodstream if it gets too cold. The mountain itself can have a tree fall on you like your fallen Aeon put all of her hatred into a singular action and positioned it at a singular person. 

The old sword is pushed into the snow in front of your bare feet, and you stop speaking.

“Be more careful next time,” Blade says. “You’ll get hurt if someone sees you.”

He points and you follow his gloved finger. 

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Take the sword,” He orders, and then quickly removes his gloves. He puts them in your palm. “It’s old. It should be enough for a while.”

“Do you mean… sell it?” You are bewildered.

“If that is what you wish, go ahead.” Blade then removes his jacket and sets it on your shoulders. “Or use it to defend yourself. I am not familiar with Morana culture, but you most likely are. Trust your gut when making this decision.”

He’ll follow you after, he decides. For a while. Maybe forever, if Kafka doesn’t allow you on the ship.

Yandere Ten Stoneheart cult au x kind reader

CW: yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, kind of suggestive (?).

Imagine an au where you have an issue with the debt. No matter how much you try to make money, you always end up broke. Poor thing, about to get sued by your annoying landlord.

Luckily, IPC noticed your struggle and decided to offer to work for them. You'll get a high payment and be able to pay your bills. All you have to do is to sign a contact and your wish will come true. At first, everything went fine. Untill, you meet with ten stoneheart. Oh, how adorable you are~.

While dating each other, Aventurine and Topaz also fall for you, due to your kindness and caring persona. Since day one, Numby already begins liking you, and later in a few days even becomes attached to you. It warms Jelena's heart so much that's two of you get along so well. Kakavasha feels accepted by you. Just like Topaz, you don't view him as the luck tool, but rather as the person. Every time, when they get injuries, you always stare at them with those adorable concerned eyes. A type of eyes, that's they want you to look only at them. Lately, they've been feeling jealous whenever someone even looks at you. You don't even imagine how much they desire to own you. To hide you somewhere safe and protect you from the cruel world.

Jade is someone you never got along with. Her cunning, sly, and manipulative personality never appealed to you. Yet, Jade has strange feelings towards you. The way you glare at her and coldly reply at her questions, make her attached to you even more. The purple haired women can't stop thinking about you. She wants to know every detail about your life. Your weakness, strength, interest, etc. Jade plans to convince you into making a wish. You can ask her everything you heart desire, but in return, you have to become her personal assistant. Wouldn't it be perfect to put a collar on your pretty neck? Turning you into an obedient pet, who'll do everything for their mistress. She'll assure you that your dependent life will become happy.

Sugilite is intrigued by you as a person. He’s amused how much you want to help people in need. Sugilite hates that you spend so much time with Jelena and Kakavasha. It would be much better if you become his house partner and make meals for him. And as the reward, Sugilite will always spoil you with the delicates. The silver haired guy it's greedy after all, and he'll never want to share what belongs to him.

Obsidian eagers so much to mark you. To bite your bare throat, so everyone knows to whom you'll belong to. The red haired lady would do ANYTHING to have you, even by murdering someone. Every time, when Obsedian think about you, it is usually the two of you bathing in the pomegranate juice. Getting held tight by her, so you'll never escape her grasp. Staying with her for an eternity no matter what!

When you finally realize their unhealthy obsession towards you, you try to end the contact with IPC. You thought you could escape? You poor naive thing. Didn't you read the contact? The one who signs it never escapes from IPC. After all, they'll always turn life into paradise for the miserable people. How can you leave them? If you do, your life will be even worse before joining them. Without IPC, you're not able to survive.

But don't you worry, ten stonehearts will give you another option. Aventurine and Topaz will keep you secure, Jade will make your life richer by depending on her, Sugilite will feed you even more than in your entire life, and Obsidian, well there are secrets that she still keeps for the surprise… Sooner or later, you'll realize that you will be much better under their wings. After all, they'll turn your life into eternal bliss.

I might make it into the series and add other characters, once we'll know more about them. I will write platonic for Opal, though. If you're not shy, you're welcome to give some ideas. However, I will respond slowly since I'm busy.

My Dearest Spouse

[NAME]

[LAST NAME]

They/them

Sypnosis: Even you yourself that being the spouse of the general is something especially when he is also a yandere.

It does not matter how you met whether you're somehow childhood friends or share the same dreams.

or you're somehow part or close to the High Cloud Quintet you're his spouse now.

No changing the subject.

Listen it gets sad with his immortal life.

Like have you seen this mans backstory.

He's once friends are nothing but distant memories.

His master is mara struck.

plus the fact he does not even way to be the general.

So you being there by his side always sooth his pain.

Jing Yuan knows love is not like these. He knows love does not make you obsessed with someone to the point you'll lock them up.

Jing Yuan knows but he doesn't stop himself he already lost so many people in his life and he couldn't lose you to.

So being the spouse of Jing Yuan is something else.

Yanqing looks up to you like a parent figure considering how you always fuss to him. Always worried to no end.

Having Mimi always be your company when Jing Yuan forbids you to step outside of the Generals mansion.

Jing Yuan will definitely spoil you with no hesitation. Anything you want will be given to you.

Just please don't leave him or else all his last piece of remaining sanity will be gone.

Him: I fucking own you. You're mine now. You ain't going no fucking where. I'm about to be your last boyfriend. I'm about to be your only boyfriend. I'm about to be your husband. You're mine.

Y/n: *smiling* so you like me?

Him: *blushing* y-yes...