after fighting at scalegorge waterscape you are taken back by jing yuan, who gives you a set of red robes to wear while your clothes dry... but why do the red robes fit you so well? he's much taller, but these robes are not only ornate but fitted?
(they're wedding robes. the marriage ceremony is in a year. you haven't even gone on a date yet.)
Since everyone in the Jing Yuan tags have been possessed by the Abundance Emanator! X Jing Yuan (Me included), I'll lend my thoughts.
CW! Yandere content, kidnapping, mentions of bribery and death. DNI if you don't like Yan content
Imagine an Abundance Emanator! Reader X Yan! (Or light Yan) Jing Yuan. The two of you are destined to be mortal enemies yet capricious fate always found a way to link your paths.
The first of your encounter with him, would be on the battlegrounds when he was the Lieutenant under Jing liu's tutelage.
To Jing Yuan, you are an abomination yet there seems to be an almost magnetic quality about you. The way his soldering eyes are always fixed on you, instead of focusing on the battle at hand as both of you try to slaughter each other.
He thinks you deserve no mercy, but when he sees you fight, he's utterly riveted. Your vines crawl and slither, grabbing several soldiers with sinewy flowered appendages and skewer them in their hearts. It's an awfully bloody sight but he can't help but be mesmerized. Deadly and beautiful, just like Belladonnas.
Initially the two of you are evenly matched, his own sword hatching at your vines, but the encounter doesn't last long as both sides retreat. Not before you mark him with your sigil, a flower smothered with thorns, right on his heart.
It isn't until he returns from war that he notices it. He should be disgusted and any other cloud knight would rather carve that insignia, heart included, if it meant ridding themselves. But he wants it. Every night during baths he caresses it gently, tracing the petals as the waters ripple around him before smiling.
The second time you meet him, there's an obvious shift between the naive lieutenant and wise general. The man before you is the divine foresight. This time, blessed with the Spiritus of the Hunt, he easily defeats you and takes you alive as his.
Convention dictates you would be subject to extreme punishment and tortur just as Hoolay, though your crimes are far less severe than his. But the general quickly pulls strings: silences all the soldiers who saw him capture you alive, bribes the ones that can be, and has the more obedient posted at distant outposts in some corner of the cosmos. Eventually, you are "dead" to both friend and foe, your comrades will not look for you, especially when there is no body to be found.
He has you sequestered in his estate, somewhere in that gargantuan house of his with most of your powers stripped from you.
Bonus: He makes you fertilize his plants with the little power you have and has you maintain his garden. From Emanator of Abundance to human lawnmower.
βLet death be the very paradise you ought to walk upon, for I will be the one to lead you to it. You and I shall be together no matter what. Promise me, you want it the same.β
Tags: Deshret | Scarlet King (Genshin Impact)/Reader, Yandere Deshret | Scarlet King (Genshin Impact), No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, No Pronouns for Reader-Insert, Implications of previous trauma, Angst, Ambiguous Relationships, Character Death
Word Count: 751
Note: This was inspired by the amazing work: Scaled Skin by stickyspeckledlight on ao3! Most of this is based on that, but I do hope it is enough to stand alone as it is.
Lovely divider by @strangergraphics πΉ
When you come to wake, you find yourself in a bed that isnβt yours.
Despite the sluggishness in your very being, a heavy hand slides to the right, and you find yourself meeting something soft yet firm. Your hand splays open, and the sensation reveals itself to be of skin: smooth and sturdy, rippling muscles that breathe under your touch.
Soon, clarity returns to your vision, and you see it firstβthe glamour of the gilded ceiling and the pristine ornaments that hang from it. They catch the setting sun in their prismatic facets, shining rainbows ever so slightly that dance around the enigmatic chamber. Your eyes catch up with your hand, only to find a tanned, jewel-adorned one resting atop it. A squeeze comes around your hand, the warmth of skin-to-skin almost hypnotic.
βYou are awake.β
And so is the deep, honey-laced voice that belonged to your lordβKing Deshret, the Scarlet King.
A turn to your right, and you are greeted by pale, aureate eyes, slightly crinkled at the edges, but no doubt his and only his. The intensity in them is long gone, and what now remains is an emotion you havenβt quite mapped to him before. It borders on tenderness, melting the hard lines of his supreme authority until all that is left is simply a man shed of everything worldly.
Memories pertaining to before slumber rush through your sentience. All you can piece together is a frail, heartbreaking moment of your body being turned to black scales, and your lord embracing you as he, too, joins you in your lifeβs end. Except right now, you donβt feel as if youβve reached your lifeβs endβor died already. You donβt see any remnants of those abysmal scales present on your body or anywhere either.
You donβt know what the afterlife is supposed to be like. From what you have experienced and learned, it is definitely not your lordβs room in any case. All of this almost makes you think all of that was simply a dream that pivoted into something rotten.
But a part of you refuses that inference.
These dreams-turned-something-rotten are usual occurrences. The most prominent one that you still hold onto despite yourself is of a young boy who made the mistake of waving at you, and you who made the mistake of smiling and waving back at him. You flinch as splotches of imaginary red taint your vision.
A sharp inhale sounds beside you, before: βLet us embrace.β
You hear your lord murmur, his voice donning an unusual shakiness. His words are barely above a whisper, and his sudden affection only adds to the simmering unease within you. With your lord embracing you once again, and with no scales between your bodies this time, the hug feels overwhelmingβtoo suffocating, just as everything has been with and about your lord.
Itβs a first: both the hold he traps you in and the tremor that sounds right beneath your ear as it presses against his chestβfast beats running their course.
You feel your lord sigh, his nose pressing against the crown of your head. His arms curve around the small of your back, muscles bulging as he presses you closer and closer, until you are all he can breathe, until he is all you can breathe.
βI promised you.β
The sudden assertion makes your heart stop. Your arms, which were beginning to reach for him, drop with a weight. Words struggle through you: βMy lord...β
And you are feeling yourself jolt out of this momentβthis simple moment of reverie that is naught but a mirage, one that doesnβt offer you the false salvation youβd hoped for. A familiar blackness creeps into your vision as it encloses everything you can see. Familiar numbness returns to your every sense, and with it the press of hard plates against your pulsing skin that were always there on your body, as were the arms of your lord.
βLet death be the very paradise you ought to walk upon, for I will be the one to lead you to it. You and I shall be together no matter what. Promise me, you want it the same.β
Note, pt.2: After reading Scaled Skin, I found myself once again in the trenches that are the lore of King Deshret and his magnificent yet terrible doings, and thus this little thing was born. Also, because I wanted Deshret to at least show some emotions toward the reader when they are literally dying, even if all this was simply a dream conjured by the readerβs dying brain.
Perhaps they too wished for the same! Who knows (*γΟγ»)
Like just imagine her darling being a member of the Yuqueβs Divination Commission and ending up working closely with the Seer Strategist. It is not that her darling is a Master Diviner or anyone important, just a secretary the Arbiter General saw in the background during a meeting that she took a liking to, quite literally walking up to her darling and dragging her off with her like a stray cat she found. One minute she was dropping off copies to her boss and the next she is sitting in a Starskiff with Madam Yao to her office.
βWell arenβt you an adorable little thing?β
Her job completely changes over night, sure she is still technically part of the Divination Commission but itβs not like she interacts with them at all. Her job now is basically sitting in the Arbiter Generalβs office with her all day, keeping her company and occasionally Yao Guang will ask her a useless question that she already knows the answer to just to make her darling feel useful.
βStay close to me we would not want someone to snatch you up, now would we?β
Eventually she is around the Arbiter Generalβs so much that it puts a target on her back, and poor dear has no way of protecting herself. Madam Yao pulls her darling even further under her wing, ordering her darlingβs things be moved to a room in her estate. Of course that will mean they are around each other all time, having dinner with each other, helping each other get ready for bed, getting up together in the morning, going to work together, spending days off with each other, it is almost like they are like a couple, bow isnβt that a fun thought? Madam Yao is oh so fond of her darling dear already, perhaps proper courtship is in order, or they can just skip straight to the marriage, that would be wonderful!
Another thought on Yandere!Jing Yuan with a darling who is a daughter of an Emanator of Abundance (original post)β¦
Imagine when he first takes her, he injures her, breaking into her leg or cutting into her flesh, not because he is being ruthless and blood thirsty, far from it. He takes her during a battle, blades, blood, and dead bodies are everywhere and he cannot have her thrashing about and distracting him or injuring herself so he just grabs her leg and twists and her scream is covered up by the hundreds of others as she passes out from the pain.
By the time his darling wakes up she is already either on her way back to the Luofu or already on the flagship. The room she is kept in is plain, only the bed, nothing that she can use to herself. Her leg is just numb, drugged up seven types of ways when she was asleep by the medics of the ship. She is painfully alone.
Due to his schedule and all the goings on he has to deal with after such a battle, Jing Yuan is rarely home to take care of his darling so in the morning she wakes up, eats and is drugged during the process and back asleep for several hours before the general returns home and helps take care of her before repeating the same process as the morning. His darling isnβt fully conscious most of the day until she recovers. Sure he feels bad about it but he would feel worse if he came back to see her having injured her leg again, it is for the best
A/N- (I just wrote this little fic after seeing this man in the trailer and I just got ideas instantly. I donβt care Snezhnaya isnβt out yet, weβre writing fics)
You did not move but you could feel your heart pounding in your chest when you could hear the all too familiar heavy footsteps making up the stairs that weaved through all the floors of the building, going up all the way to the top room that you were kept hidden away in. There was a soft knock on the door, just to alert you of his presence as if you could not hear his boots against the wooden floors, it is not like you could stop him from coming in or open the door for him, after all you were the one locked in here. You did not bat an eye in his direction as Valeriy clicked open the locks on the door and opened it, his large build stepping through the doorway.
βI had the kitchen make you a plate.β You finally looked up at him as he stepped closer, setting down the tray he was carrying on the sitting table in front of you, it was roasted duck, pelmeni, braised cabbage, pickled garlic, along with a bowl of borscht, and a slice or some sort of layered cake. You wanted to turn your nose up at the practically divine spread, but it smelled so good and the change in your posture at the sight of the wood must have given you away. βYou should eat, it is important you keep up with your health. It will help chase off the cold.β
βIβm not hung-.β You replied to Valeriy, but the cold glare he stared down at you made you shut up before you could finish what you were saying. βSorryβ¦ Iβ¦ Iβm really not hungry.β
βYou have been avoiding food for the last three days, the reason you are not down there tonight is because you decided to make yourself get sick and I caught you in the bathroom.β You watched as he tapped his gloved hand against the wood of the table next to the food. βEat, and donβt think about tossing it into the fire, it leaves a smell.β
ββ¦fine.β
βGood, I will check on you after the party.β You could not dare to stop him as he bent over to press his lips against your forehead. βI love you, ΠΡΠ°ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΠ°.β
Ngl I wish I could write a fic that probably shows my disability properly, like for reference I have chronic pain and while I am a ballerina I do need a wheelchair on days where the pain is just too much and I just have really bad flare ups, this happens especially after a long show season and everything catches up to my body.
The problem with writing yandere fics with disabilities is that they often seem and or are ableist. But dear god I just want a yandere to coddle me sometimes when the pain just gets too much, take care of me, even if I am scared it is that betraying feeling that makes me feel safe.
Youβre trembling from head to toe. Every last square inch of skin on your body, down to the most shielded nooks and crannies, is blooming with shivers born of the winterβs sheer, icy cold.Β
Standing beneath the small shelter above the doors leading back inside the Inkford Hermitage hotel, completely nude, you listen to the clacking of your own teeth and try not to let your wistful eyes wander too close to the steaming water mere meters ahead of you. Despite practically having wanted nothing more in your entire life, the warmth, as inviting it is, isnβt something youβre going to get to touch tonight.
Though you know that the effort is virtually pointless, youβve folded your arms over your chest and tried to awkwardly cross your legs in an attempt to guard yourself from both the biting wind and a certain someoneβs eyes.
Showing no signs of interest towards your presence, Blade rests in the hot spring with his pale, scar-riddled back turned to you. His dark hair, wetted by the moisture in the air, is glued to his skin, and droplets of sweat have formed to adorn the curves of the muscles in his arms. Not a single ripple disturbs the springβs serene surface as he sits perfectly still, visibly savouring the lingering silence only broken by the faint breeze that occasionally travels across the pool.
There is not a single soul aside from the two of you around. The hotelβs springs have fallen into a sense of dormancy in the night, barren of the life that usually grants them the calm yet revitalizing effect.Β
It has been a long day. Even on a planet like Planarcadia, what is supposed to be joyful merely leaves you overwhelmed: Life with him already feels like dancing on the keen edge of a sword, and now, the only thing that has been added is the raucous audience waiting for your fall below. You donβt understand how the man himself stands it β how heβs able to rid himself of all the noise and just repose in the water β but the one thing which is for sure is that you canβt. You cannot abandon the anxiety, cannot let him invade your privacy so, cannot allow yourself to rest for even a single moment in case it would open a window for him to strike through.Β
Itβs what he would wish for you to do, however, you assume. He hasnβt outwardly expressed it, no, but the choice of pastime for the precious few hours he gets to spend all alone isnβt a purely hedonistic one. He has never been one for the hot baths, commented Silver Wolf in passing as you mentioned where the two of you would be going, and even now, though it appears that heβs silently enjoying himself, you couldnβt help but notice the glances he sent towards the ice pools earlier. You almost would have preferred it if he headed for them instead β at least, that way, you wouldβve had actual motivation not to dip yourself in β but, at any rate, you have no choice but to stand in the freezing air and wait for him to be done.Β
The milieu is breathtakingly beautiful, yet you're in no headspace to enjoy the view as youβre so terribly cold that the stray snowflakes which land on your bare form have begun feeling like tiny, burning pricks on your skin. Whatever is left of the colour in your fingertips is slowly but steadily vanishing, every last hair on your body is standing up, and each passing second only adds to the cumulative torture of having to stand so close yet so far to the heat emanating from the spring.Β
Still, with your shoulders at your ears, you remain by the door and direct your gaze at your blueing feet. Without making a sound, you bend at the knees and press yourself into a ball, wrapping your arms around your legs and hiding your face into the crevice between your thighs. Smothering the noise of your sniffling, you take in a slow, shaky breath and try to find the tiniest bit of relief in how your exhale fleetingly warms the freezing skin it puffs against.Β
You donβt know how long it has been. Itβs a challenging task to keep track of the time while youβre actively wishing for it to pass faster. Each minute, rather than aiding you in getting used to the temperature, only seems to double the urge to walk over to the spring and submerge yourself in its comfort. You would like for nothing more than to enjoy the peace and quiet on your own, letting your eyes and thoughts rest on the picturesquely snowy landscape, but as long as your captor remains in the way, youβre settling for the chill.Β
Itβs laughable; just how much you let his demeanour affect you. The amount ofΒ times he has seen you naked hasnβt been countable with your fingers in a long, long time, and by now, you should have become accustomed to the dread that follows you whenever heβs near, yet even in your fatigued state of mind, perching where you are, you donβt pursue the warmth that is riddled by him. You wonder if you would really, truly rather succumb to the cold than share the bath with him, but at the same time, in a counterintuitive way, youβve made up your mind: When both options mean suffering, youβre choosing the one that doesnβt include him.Β
However, just then, as if your thoughts had been spoken out loud, the silence of the spring is disturbed. You lift your face up from your knees just in time to pick up on the movement.Β
Blade stirs. In sluggish movements, he raises his dripping arms out of the water and sets his elbows onto the poolβs wooden edge. With his eyes still closed, he rolls his neck back and exhales through his nose, blowing out a swirling cloud of vapour into the frigid air.Β
The corners of your mouth turn into something akin to a frown.Β
Itβs like he isnβt even aware of your existence. He doesnβt turn around to look your way, doesnβt acknowledge you, doesnβt show any sort of concern towards your well-being, to the point where you start getting bitter over having been dragged to the hotel in the first place. You could as well be resting back at the hideout, curled up in the frayed blanket on the bed and catching up with the sleep your disquiet has lately been gnawing away, or even just getting to sit in the dark room all alone would be enough, but no. It has long since become clear that the one making your decisions is no longer you, and no matter the circumstance, you donβt think youβll ever grow to be able to relax with him in the same space with you.Β
With weariness written all over your features, you stare at Bladeβs form until finally, after a prolonged moment of tense stillness, he parts his lips.
βYou are given a rare opportunity to unwind, and this is how you choose to while it awayβ, he speaks, posing the words as not a question but a toneless, observational statement.Β
You donβt have an answer to give him. Thereβs no excuse you could come up with, no smart remarks, nothing you could say to mask the reason behind your hesitance. So, instead of responding to him, you proceed to lower your face back to your knees.Β
He sighs at the silence. Though the tone of his voice is gruff as always, his manner doesnβt convey any particular sense of irritation as he cranes his head to the side and opens his eyes. Then, after gazing into the distance for a moment or two, he directs his piercing red irises towards your form.Β
The weight of his attention lingers on you, heavy and unsettling. You allow your own to flicker to him for a fleeting moment before hiding behind your thighs once again. Suddenly feeling horribly vulnerable, you bring your legs closer together and slide your arms further down your shins.Β
Again, Bladeβs eyelids fall shut. Raising his hand to his head, he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing the black strands back and revealing his sweat-clad forehead.Β
βIt hardly matters to me how you decide to make use of your timeβ, he then continues, βbut you are a fool if you plan on freezing to death as you are.β
You purse your lips together.Β
His statement feels humiliating, almost, like he didnβt believe you to have any common sense at all. You furrow your brows ever so slightly but donβt move from your bunched-up position, instead pretending like he never even talked to you, merely swallowing up your misery like you've done so many times in the past.Β
Itβs what the whole thing is, precisely: miserable. Youβre caught in between two equally uncomfortable options β one mentally, one physically β and the question is simply about which one youβre more willing to tolerate. You grow even more certain of your earlier choice on the matter as your eyes meander towards his form yet again: The thought of sitting next to him sends far worse shivers down your spine than the weather ever could.Β
The stalemate persists. By this point, if he had plans to leave the matter be, he would already have returned to his original position and forgotten about you entirely, but now, it looks like his peace has been perturbed for good.Β
You barely resist the urge to withdraw further into yourself as Blade turns around and plants his palm on the pool border. Getting on his feet, he rises out of the water, revealing his naked chest, abdomen and crotch, at which point you make the decision of promptly covering your eyes and frantically backtrack on your earlier reticence.Β
βIβm fineβ, you claim in a muffled, frail voice as if the words alone could cause him to recoil.Β
You donβt know if anyone in the whole wide world could pull off the lie you just spoke out, yet the believability of the fib quickly proves to be the least of your worries. With an entirely unimpressed expression on his face, Blade stares you down from the short distance away, seemingly contemplating on whether he has the energy to spare on your reluctance or not.Β
Your gaze locks with his. Though the moment is brief, the wordless exchange of stances manages to elicit a soundless huff through his nose.
Much to your dismay, rather than permitting you to continue your pitiful defiance, he reaches down by his feet and picks up a wooden bucket, fills it with hot water, and steps out of the spring. He doesnβt give you enough time to wonder if now would be the moment to try and slip back inside as even with measured steps, he crosses the gap between you in a mere few seconds, and before you can even begin to stand up, he has already reached your side.Β
The warmth radiates off of his body, breathing the hot mist against your freezing skin. Though he hasnβt yet even touched you, the mere proximity almost burns you. Exhausted yet all the more jittery, you refuse to look up at him, instead bunching yourself up into an even smaller form and settling for staring at his legs, low enough where thereβs zero, absolutely zero risk of your eyes straying anywhere near what dangles between his thighs.Β
βYour feet.β
The two-word command is so strict in nature that you nearly obey it out of reflex. Still, you manage to stop yourself in time, only gently shaking your head in response to his demand.Β
He sighs. For a second, you mistakenly believe for your meek rebellion to have earned you a little slack, but right after the hopeful notion sparks in your mind, a searing sensation lands between your shoulder blades.Β
βOw-ow-ow-burns-!β
An involuntary whimper slips past your lips as you arch your back and try to rid yourself of the water Blade pours on you. He isnβt having any of it, however, and rather than letting you get used to the sudden change in temperature, he rips the band-aid off in a single stroke. Your whines land on deaf ears, and the entire bucketful of heated water soon streams down the curves of your upper body.Β
You could swear that the heat chars your skin, but after a good few moments of shuddering in place, the twinging is replaced by the pleasantness of slowly, finally getting some circulation back into your extremities. With patience, he lets the water flow out of its container in a leisurely, even stream, covering you in the warmth as if spreading a liquid blanket on you. It cascades past your sides, down your arms, wetting a few stray strands of your hair, and forms a puddle on the planks beneath your feet.
The feeling is so soothing that you almost find yourself relaxing under his scrutiny.Β However, soon enough, the dribble narrows: As the last droplet of water falls from the bucket, he waits but a moment to bend himself down along with its trail. Opening your half-lidded eyes, youβre yanked out of your newfound, cosy trance when he slips his free hand around the length of your upper arm.Β
You donβt resist the wordless request. Finding your balance on your chill-numbed feet, you let Blade drag you up from your position. With your head hanging low, you settle for covering your chest with one arm and follow his lead towards the pool.Β
Yet another breeze travels over the dead-silent, steaming sanctuary, mocking your quivering form one more time as the man guides you to the spring in measured steps. However, his grip, though obviously tactile, is barely firm enough to qualify as one. Whereas youβre used to him putting much more force behind his touch, he now seems to hold onto you with a distinct sort of tenderness in his manner.Β
Setting the bucket down, the man lets go of your arm and casts an expectant look your way, patiently waiting for you to make the next move. A shaky exhale escapes your mouth as you take a hesitant step leg-deep into the pool, but it only takes a second for the initial, scalding sensation to subside, after which you slowly but surely crouch further into the water and gradually sink your entire body into its comforting embrace.Β
Lowering himself down next to you, Blade takes a seat on the stone ledge beneath the surface, leaving a bit too narrow of a gap between the two of you for your taste. As inconspicuously as youβre able to, you scoot away from him β the spring is nowhere near cloudy enough to conceal your form in case he were to get curious and let his gaze roam β but a quick, sharp glance from the corner of his eye promptly stops you in your tracks. It is not a mean one by any means, not the kind he would give as a warning, but rather, it seems as if the movement simply caught his attention. Nevertheless, he lets the look linger for a moment before he closes his eyes again, and you decide it might be best to just bear with the unease.Β
The night is completely silent. The atmosphere, despite the light flooding out of the hotelβs entrance, is eerie β so much so that you suddenly feel an instinctive pressure to start a conversation to loosen the violin string-taut mood. The idea is obviously scrapped as soon as it forms in your mind, but the sentiment remains.Β
Against your better judgment, once more, you steal a peek at Blade. The action backfires immediately, however, as you make eye contact with him, only succeeding in wringing the tension even tighter than before.Β
You wish you could bear to look at him for longer, to stand your ground even in the smallest possible ways, but you canβt. After a mere few seconds worth of staring at his slit pupil, you drop your chin to your chest and hide your face from his view, shying away from the confrontation like a fawn retreating back into its cove.Β
Your insides squirm with equal amounts of shame and trepidation, steadily keeping you from allowing your shoulders to fall or your rigid posture to rest, yet he doesnβt even allow you the peace to tumble around in your own unease. You can feel his glare boring into the side of your head, your bare back, your chest which youβre still doing your best to hide. The overwhelming urge to put more distance between the two of you has your legs trembling in place, and seizing the opportunity to scamper out of the spring and back inside the hotel seems like a better and better idea by the second, but just then, the soundless disarray in your thoughts is abruptly dispersed by a touch on your back.Β
You resist the urge to whisk your face towards the interruption. Instead, with wide open eyes, you peep at him from behind your damp hair, following the length of his arm to where it now connects with your shoulder.Β
Bladeβs intentions are difficult to predict even after the countless days youβve had to spend with him: His face conveys no emotion, and the hand on you could entail anything from the carnal to yet another violent outburst, albeit the latter is something you havenβt had to weather in a while. Still, your habitual reaction is to pull further into yourself, tensing up and leaning away from him the tiniest, tasteful bit you pray doesnβt ignite his wrath.Β
His hand follows your movement. You let out a nearly inaudible gasp, a sigh, the smallest possible signal to impart to him that the touch is uncomfortable, unnerving.Β
His brow twitches ever so slightly.Β
Instead of obeying your wordless request, Blade lets his fingers climb further up your back. Sliding his hand underneath your hair and to the base of your skull, he pays very little mind to how petrified you appear at the approach. A strange, garbled yip of fright slips out of your throat as your shoulders once again jump to your ears to resist the invasion, but then, after a few seconds of what you think is the end of the calm before the storm, you snap back into the reality of the pads of his fingers now gently digging into the taut muscles on the back of your neck.Β
The gesture, despite having happened a few times before, feels so foreign that your irrational mind still struggles to classify it as non-threatening. With unmistakable tenderness in his caresses, he presses his thumb and middle finger on each side of your spine in a pinching motion, kneading the bony flesh firmly yet carefully. Then, after spending a few moments on the area, he moves a little further down to the juncture of your scapulae where he continues his ministrations.Β
Frankly speaking, what heβs aiming to do is downright impossible with how tight youβve forced your posture. Still unsure of what to make of his actions, you donβt think to lower your shoulders until he himself takes the initiative: Momentarily leaving your neck be, he spreads out his hand span β more than wide enough β to set his fingertips on the outer ends of your collarbones and gently pushes down on the protrusions, tacitly urging you to relax.Β
Your brain doesnβt know which direction it should go in. One side is screaming at you to shriek and wade as far away from the man as possible while the other is telling you that shrinking in on yourself and sobbing is just as good of an option, but ultimately, against all the anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach, you comply with his suggestion. Taking in a deep breath, you will your shoulders to fall back in their place.Β
Blade resumes his actions without a further complaint. Carefully, he massages the back of your neck in round patterns with one hand, slowly climbing up the vertebrae one by one before then switching directions and moving back down.Β
Cautiously, you allow yourself to feel the sensation his touch produces. As soon as you do, a violent shiver forces you to abruptly arch your back and shake your head, causing him to once again pause for a second, but right after, you come to find that what heβs doing feels pleasant. The word, as it pops into your mind, is so far from what youβve gotten used to thinking about when with him that you now have no idea what to think about at all. However, in a way, you find that perhaps, itβs the best outcome you could have hoped for; entirely voluntarily, you slowly allow the frightened part of your brain to simply shut down.Β
The water ripples as Blade shifts a little closer to you, setting his elbow onto the pool border behind you. With his thigh now just shy of touching yours, he continues to massage you.Β Β
βDoes it ache?β he asks, speaking in the dry, low-pitched tone youβve long since grown habituated to. βYour nape.β
β... A little.β
Right after speaking the word, you stop to think whether or not your answer is a βcorrectβ one, but judging from the simple lack of reaction on his end, it looks like the moment has reached a stable state of tranquillity. You exhale through your nose.Β
Blade does the same thing in response. Resting his head back, he closes his eyes and breathes in the chilly, still air. His hand disconnects from the back of your neck, instead moving up to the narrow, malleable spot right above your atlas where he presses the pad of his thumb flat against the curve, rubbing it in a firm, circular motion.Β
Languidly, you blink a few times. Then, after taking in the sight of the dark, snow-covered landscape, you let your lashes flutter shut.Β
Thinking about Yandere!Jing Yuan with a darling who is the daughter of an Emanator of the Abundance. Like his darling goes her entire life being protected, tucked away beneath their wing or vines, but then they are struck down by the Divine Foresight and he sees his darling, such a sweet thing, looking more terrified than a deer.
So he takes her
He will spend time pampering and doting on his darling he rescued from the Denizens of Abundance. He saved her from those wretched followers of the Plagues Author, never mind the fact he practically tore her from family and friends on that planet that was torn apart from the battles fought between the Xianzhou and her people.
He will teach her better than wha she was raised in, after all how could she possibly follow such an Aeon that would bring such suffering upon their people. With him she never has to worry about her next meal, where she sleeps at night, if she is going to be safe.
I just keep toying around with the concept of a yandere! Dr Ratio, who's so up his high horse that he can't comprehend why he's so attracted to a simpleton such as yourself. He singles you out and makes you uncomfortable on purpose but gets so pressed when you're talking to someone else.
... It's insulting.
Don't listen to those buffoons. If you have problems, come to him. Just ignore the grip of his hand and unnerving stare.
People have really forgotten that yandere is literally a horror trope. No I don't want a "green flag yandere" I want an endless pit of dread in my stomach and also a sense of arousal that shouldn't be there
You youths have forgotten the original tomes
Forgetten Hexenzirkel Witch @fancyfeathers - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
