Tags/warnings: general yandere shenanigans but this is probably a bit too soft for that term, ooc, kidnapping, memory loss, dark-ish content, surprisingly consensual, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.
AN: the formatting of this was a fucking nightmare on tumblr due to it being unable to retain formatting after pasting. Please do tell me if I miss a strikethrough.
⊠I forgot to mention that this has sex in it.
â
That could have gone better.
Perhaps that would be an accurate observation for much of your relationships in general. Ever since you could remember, relationships were a string of failures, from what was supposed to be your kin by birth, to connections you forged. Some rather distant acquaintances had even started suggesting that you were the common thread behind those failures, but they definitely are the sort who needed to be taught that correlation does not mean the same thing as causation.
The rest mostly regarded you as someone that is merely there. A presence they register, yet not someone they actively seek.
It was the fourth bad date this month, someone whose profile looked normal, yet managed to spout word for word some bullshit spoken by a grifter who considered half the population or more as their lessers. It was lucky that you managed to excuse yourself and flee, having the foresight to ask for separate bills.
Right as you opened the door, bright white light spilled out from the gap, sheer exhaustion making the whole spectacle escape your notice.
Until your eyes met a pair of amethyst ones, rainbow hues dancing in their curious gaze.
Shock made you almost fall, yet she was faster, her presence an anchor in your momentary disorientation. A lady clad in white and prismatic colors, bearing a halo of white.
â(Name), right? Heaven has judged you a virtuous soul~ in this life, you have been given the gift of being reunited with your guardian angel.â
Her gaze was sincere, familiar, and perhaps too impossible for words, and for a moment, it felt all too easy to drown in it - however, common sense dictates thet there was no such thing as a âguardian angelâ
If there are, it is likely someone trying to sell something, to proselytize, or perhaps both.
I looked away as she got closer, barely managing to whisper, to ask where she came from, yet it came as something more akin to a squeak. Her laughter was easy, familiar, like a presence that has always been there all your life, yet only deigned to show herself now. Cyrene, that was what she introduced herself as, and her eyes sparkled with mirth when you repeat her name, like you were taste-testing stardust on your tongue.
And her presence, as familiar as her demeanor suggests, eases itself into your life the way a puzzle piece that has always belonged slotted perfectly into an empty space.
You were wary at first, of course, who doesnât? A stranger just introduced herself as something that sounded more like a fantasy trope. Your accusation bounced off of her with her smile and her affection, and even though you try to ignore her, she was always there, unseen, only leaving traces of her presence in the form of small favors and blessings, as if in hopes you would accept.
Hot breakfast made just before you wake up, the only hint to her presence a blur of pink and white out of the corner of your vision, a hint of light and color that could be mistaken for a mirage if she did not leave traces. Your plants alive and thriving despite your total lack of green thumb. Your missing things, returned in a quick display of raining stardust when you least expect it.
An easy companionship, seemingly without anything you have to give on your behalf - and in a way, the lack of commitment on your part was comforting, as if it implied even if she left, even if this turned out to be some kind of scam, you would not suffer.
After all - your life already have enough relationship failures. Adding one more would be a foolish decision at best.
You figured that in a few days, she would be tired of your silence leave, would stop her little blessings and nudges, and that would be the end of it.
Until she did not.
One week of continuous small favors later, you called for her. Seeing no response, you turned around, only to come face-to-face with her, her smile warm and inviting, like she sees something you couldnât.
âWhy do you do this? Do you not have other heavenly duties or something?â
Her expression softened, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.
âBecause I am your guardian angel, of course~â
From then on, she didnât bother hiding her presence.
Another date, and this time, laughter came easy and unbidden, and minutes passed by without you realizing it. However, as you were about to suggest a second date, you felt the feather of her quill brush your nose.
Of course, rather conveniently, you were the only one privy to her presence.
A tap on your dateâs shoulder froze their movements as a substance, seemingly like ice, spread onto their skin.
âLetâs seeâŠâ she twirled her quill once, then let it float beside her as she skimmed through the chronicle in her hands, âCharming, a good partner with a good familyâŠâ
You open your mouth, reprimanding that she is not supposed to be here, yet she continued.
âTheir last partner, and the one before that, and the one before the last one, currently missing, while they are cleared of all charges due to conveniently having an alibi each time,â she brushed the tip of her quill to your nose. âI advise you to be careful, dear.â
You were about to dismiss her remarks, yet now, when you look at them, their lips parted too wide, the telltale crinkle of a true smile missing from the corner of their eyes. A shiver went down your spine, and with that easy smile of hers, she suggested for you to flee.
Since that day, she became a true companion - someone you could count on. She talked about her heavenly duties, reassuring that she would always stay by your side, unbound by time. With the passage of days, her presence became something you got used to. The scent of flowers and something refreshing, something uniquely her, followed you with the close proximity, serving as an anchor, a reassurance, and a friendly companion that whispers encouragement.
Then, one day, as you ate breakfast together, she regarded you with a serious expression.
âI am being summoned back tomorrow.â
You almost choked on your food, your worry and sadness palpable even before. Before, you would scoff at the notion of missing her, but nowâŠ
âWhen will you come back?â You asked, the question coming off as more glum than you would have liked.
âMiss me already?â Cyrene reached for your hand, her serious expression softening into an easy smile, her thumb rubbing the back of your hand in soothing circles. âI will come back after I take care of things. After allâŠâ
She paused, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. Her touch felt nice, reverent, her gaze fixed onto you as if she saw everything deep in your soul, and cherished even the parts you hid from the world.
â⊠I am your guardian angel, and you are my dearest, most precious charge.â
Before you could think too much of it, you took the day off, spending time with her. Now that separation, even if momentary, was on the cards, a part of you knew you would feel her absence. She has materialized for the day, her radiance drawing the eyes of those around you. Hand in hand, you walked into a cafe, ordering sweets as the sun rose higher and the weather warms up.
A part of you wanted to question, what is it that made you so attached? After all, she is aâŠ
You dismissed the thought.
It matters not. All that mattered is this rightness of being with her, this happy feeling that fluttered deep in your stomach at her smile, her happiness, her sweet laughter. Simple moments at this day became something to cherish, as if your heart sensed something was up. Even as her thumb brushed on your lower lip, as the heat of your own blush seeped into her fingers and stained your ears with a rather becoming pink.
In that moment, it felt as if the world faded.
âPerhaps I should leave and come back more often if this is how you react,â she teased, yet the twinkle in her eyes seemed to convey a deeper connection.
It was almost strange, yet not entirely unwelcome, the way her touches, her whispers, her words, felt as if they ignited warm embers deep in your soul now that you would need to spend some time without her constant presence.
âCome now, donât miss me too much,â she interrupted your musing as she gave you a spoonful of her dessert in an intimate gesture. âWe will see each other again, after all.â
That night, she asked to share your bed, and yet again, something inside you warmed up at her proximity. She was rubbing circles on the base of your spine, her touches fanning the embers of heat that has been building within, unnoticed until it was coaxed to the surface. Each rotation of her hand felt gentle and fond, scratching that itch in your soul in the best way possible, and it was easy to get lost in the hypnotic warmth of her eyes and the rhythm of her touches.
The feeling of her enveloping you carried a sense of safety, of belonging, of warm happiness that made it all too easy to sink, to forget that she was a heavenly agent and not⊠something more.
⊠right?
One thing led to another, the simple embrace leading to a dance of passion right on the small bed you shared. When she asked for permission, acceptance rolled easily from your tongue, drunk with need that was once simmering and now threatens to boil over. Cyrene relieved you of your clothes with the gentleness of a woman unwrapping a precious gift, her fingers wandering upon your skin with a reverence.
In this position, underneath her, she looked radiant. Her halo glowed in a soft silver tinged with pink, carrying a beauty rivaling the night skies itself. Fondness radiated from her every movement, from the way her kisses trail down, her tongue tasting your skin, her scent enveloping your world, her gentle praises tickling your heart.
It was a given that the moment her fingers brushed the apex of your thighs, she would find it shamefully wet. Her delight was palpable, yet she still asked for your permission, sweet and coaxing, and you nod, as you always do.
In that moment, you take the plunge.
Her thumb circled your clit, slow and delightful, praises falling from her lips as she drank in your sweet moans and whines. Before you realized it, she too had shed her elaborate gown, all with her eyes still fixed on you, full of love, of affection, and a deep satisfaction of someone who has finally attained her heartâs desire.
With her fingers, she continued to tease you, plunging two fingers deep into your folds while her thumb continued to circle that sensitive bud that made you see stars. A deep, abiding love followed her every move as she paid attention to which spots made you let out the sweetest noises, where her hands wander that made you curl your toes in sheer pleasure.
Her teasing touches continued for what felt like a lifetime, before she pulled out her fingers, leaving you bereft. Before you could whine in multiple denied euphoric release, her clit brushed against yours, the contact sending jolts of pleasure into your very being with each moment of contact.
âYou are doing so good, my darling,â she whispered, appreciation dripping in her tone. âMy dearest, my shining star, myâŠâ
Her voice faltered a bit, yet love still shone in her expression, it seemed she was remembering a distant memory.
â⊠my first love.â
With her gentle encouragements and expert touches, euphoric relief claims you as you melted in her embrace, stars shining at the corner of your eyes, making her look even more radiant. You held her tight as you closed your eyes, whispering for her to stay, even as her serious expression earlier that morning told you all you needed to know.
In the morning, you sensed she was gone before you even opened your eyes - her presence gone, only leaving the trace of her warmth on your bed and a whiff of the scent of flowers.
â
âYou have abandoned your post for too long, Demiurge. For one mortal, no less. What do you have to say for yourself?â
In the heavenly council, Cyrene stood on the podium, as she stared up at the judge cloaked in ice, reflecting rainbow colors across all directions in a shifting pattern. Thousands upon thousands of angels of all ranks filled the circular building, their cold, unfeeling gaze directed at her, judging, waiting, almost eager and ravenous for a punishment.
Of course, âguardian angelsâ were nothing but a myth invented by humans, and the truth was, there was no way heaven would care enough for one individual human to send one of their valuable agents.
As much as the agents of heaven called themselves pure and above mortals - even they were not above engaging in mortal faults, even under another, cleaner term. What humans would consider prejudice would be framed as justice. What humans would consider pride would be framed as merely doing the duties of a higher being.
âThey are special,â Cyrene replied, her expression serious, unafraid, almost defiant.
âAn early relic from your past life as a human. A memory of deep friendship that no longer belongs to you nor serves you. Not since your ascension,â the judge replied. Cold, robotic, unfeeling. âHave you forgotten that without your constant focus, the great evil you are responsible for sealing will be unleashed? Return to your post at once, lest we will deal with your precious mortal.â
âThe great evil lies dormant, their hatred suppressed even as I stand here,â Cyrene replied, summoning a bow with a wave of her hand. âThere is no need for such drastic measures.â
âYou would raise your weapon against heaven for reminding you of your transgression?â
Her eyes narrowed, rage etched into her expression, and without hesitation, she pulled the string, launching an icy arrow that grazed the judge on what passed as its cheek.
âAn explicit threat, yet you call it a mere reminder. Perhaps you should reflect on your own behavior.â
In that moment, the skies above the council darkened, plunging the place into the abyss.
âFor your long millenia of service, heaven has decided to disregard this blatant attempt of insubordination. This will be your last warning, Demiurge. Return to your post at once, lest we will throw your precious mortal, along with you, down to the abyss.â
â
It has been a few days since Cyrene departed.
It was palpable, the void created by her absence. No one to prepare breakfast, to return your missing items to you, and no presence of the woman you have considered a source of comfortâ
Or perhaps, it was time to admit it. You are in love with her. You are in love with the woman who called herself your guardian angel.
You missed her each time you walked to your dining room and not hearing her âgood morningâ and not seeing that radiant smile. You missed her each time you found a beautiful trinket and called for her, only to realize that she was not there. Most of all, you missed having a constant companion, missed the presence of a lover.
The next time you meet, you vowed to truly ask her out.
As you passed in front of a store, a bouquet of crystal roses on display, you remembered her. It was nothing luxurious, and the crystals were likely made of glass, yet something in you remembered her as you purchased one while thinking of her. It has no scent, you realized, remembering and tasting her unique floral scent on your tongue.
â(Name).â
You practically whipped your head the moment you heard that voice.
Cyrene looked exhausted, and you ran towards her, not caring whether anyone else could see her or how you would look speaking to empty air. You ran towards her, clearly worried, questions about where she had been, questions about what happened, all dying on your tongue in favor of ensuring she was okay.
âI apologize,â she whispered, with no explanation. âI know this will be a selfish move, but in the endâŠâ
Her eyes met yours, her diamond-pupils piercing deep into your soul. Questions filled your thoughts. What must have happened for her to look this exhausted?
â⊠I am a selfish woman, and my ego will not allow this to be the end.â
Blue icicles, shining in various shades of pink, emerged from the ground, all while other people were unaware, no one noticing the strange event unfolding.
âCyrene, what happened to you? Why are youââ
âCome with me,â was her only answer. The icicles shone brighter now, enveloping you two like a cocoon. It felt cool, but not uncomfortably cold, and yet, it was enough to freeze the words from your tongue.
âLet us be together forever, in memory, and in all the futures to comeâŠâ
The icicles shattered, and the crystal-glass rose, the one meant for her, fell to the ground, the final trace of your presence in the mortal world.
â⊠after all, even though I know a farewell was ordained⊠I much prefer to create a cliffhanger.â
â
Warm sunlight filtered through the window, a gentle nudge for you to open your eyes. As you stretched, the bed felt⊠strange.
No, this was clearly your bed, and your mind seemed to accept the feeling, the explanation. As you looked down, the feeling of strangeness, of something being very wrong, brewed in the back of your mind, like a persistent ache that kept on being soothed by a sense of rightness and wrongness that mixed to create a rather distinctive feeling. As you woke up, a spring in your steps, you struggled for a moment to remember the reason for such happinessâŠ
Playing with your best friend, your mind helpfully offered, yet, the explanation felt right and wrong at the same time. As you looked down, your hands looked a little smaller than you rememberâ
Of course not, this was clearly your hands.
It was a constant, strange cycle of doubt that would be quickly stamped over with an explanation that felt right, too right it circles back to carrying a sense of wrongness that does not abate even with how much your thoughts were drowned in that sweet sense of comfort. You ran out of the house, through fields of golden wheat.
This is not right, this is definitely notâ or is, your hometown. Right? RightâŠ?
Your body carried you where you needed to be while your mind drowned in a whirlwind of impossibility and confusion. The sight of a familiar pink hair, and a sweet, innocent smile.
Something felt so wrong right.
â(Name)! I have been waiting for you!â Cyrene called out for you, happiness radiating from her voice.
Was that really the name you knew her as? Shouldnât it be ElyâŠ
As you struggled, as you try to reclaim something that you knew was definitely there, time seemed to stop.
In the space of a blink, Cyrene, your childhood friend, stood there, in that form of a guardian angel, and you, at an older form that felt right. With none of that sense of wrongness that seemed to seep out every so often.
âWe are in memory space, together,â she explains. â(Name), I know you are confused, but this is for the best. This way, nothing will separate usâ
âWhy?â Was all that you could muster. âAt least, give me an explanation.â
She shook her head. âThis way, you are safe, and we will never be separated, not even by forces beyond our control.â
Before you could demand for a more detailed answer, in the space of another blink, the two of you returned back to the past present, returned to that moment of playful simplicity.
Cyrene Elysiaâs sweet smile melted away your lingering doubts, and as she sat down with you, on a swing hung on a tree branch, all you could think of was the carefree, innocent happiness of touching the sky.
your hand cup your girlfriendâs jaw, the tips of your fingers slightly digging into her chin. evernightâs expression is unreadable, however her seemingly dead eyes flicker with amusement. an enigmatic entity whoâs gobbled up memokeepers, tricked a genius, and isnât afraid to challenge the galaxy if it means to protect the ones she holds dear, is currently getting babied like some precious puppy.
the longer she stayed quiet, eyeing you, the more flustered you grew. of course, evernight noticed quickly and the corners of her mouth lifted. she giggles,
â why, me. â her fingers ghost over your wrist, a singular nail brushing against a vein. evernightâs gaze narrows, eye contact between you and her gradually becoming charged.
â and only me. â her voice falls under a firm whisper, possessive intent clinging to it.
evernight can feel your fingers slightly quiver at that, she can also see a glimpse of your teeth biting into the fleshy barrier of your bottom lip. her mischievous smile grows wider. she leans forward, you lean back. she continues her advance until your back falls on to marchâs cute, fluffy pillows, and sheâs hovering over you. her palm slides down your covered stomach, before slipping under your shirt. you visibly shiver from evernightâs cold touch, yet your hands reach out for her cheeks.
she gladly accepts your soft warmth with a particular glint in her scarlet hues.
â now, â your girlfriend dips down to only stop at your lips. nose brushing, her frosty breath mingles with yours.
Yandere!Evernight (Living Doll) x Collector!Reader
Warnings: General yandere behavior, SFW, supposedly for spooky month but I am a procrastinator and Iâm not sorry.
â
As a collector, you have seen a lot of things in your life.
Macabre dolls that seemed to always have a shifting, shining bloodstains somewhere on their body accompanied by mysterious deaths, dolls that seemed to move and twist whenever you look away, even dolls that let out fragments of blood-curdling laments under the cover of night. It does not take a rocket scientist to realize that collecting haunted dolls was certainly an unconventional hobby.
You prefer to call them dolls with interesting histories.
After a grueling auction, this one was the most recent doll you obtained, for reasons you could pretend were more reasonable than simply how ethereal it looked. Encased in a glass box, it was a humanoid doll, dressed in pastel blues and pinks, its glassy eyes shifting between those hues with even miniscule differences in the angle you looked at it at. With the hype of winning the auction slightly dissipated, you realized that the doll looked less like a haunted macabre thing, and more like a work of art someone mistakenly left there, but regardless, the stories it had were entertaining enough to earn it a spot in your collection.
From the rumors, you pieced together that it was called âEvernightâ, the last work of an unknown artist who vanished in a house that was opulent one moment, and turned into a den of shattered glass and blood-stained marble the next. At that fateful day, only this one doll, housed inside of an iridescent glass box survived, all else vanishing in a pile of blood, rot, and viscera, while it remained pristine and untouched by its defiled surroundings.
Even though the auction staff probably had cleaned the box, you gave the box a small once-over, a spritz of water and cleaning solution on the surface of the glass, then a quick rub, even though there was no visible stains, something about the simple action being a little therapeutic.
You could have sworn the eyes glowed for a second.
Perhaps a trick of the light, well, after all, its storied background does lend well to little shifts interpreted as evidence of the supernatural.
â
That night, an odd sense of something off hung in the air.
Each slight shift of the atmosphere weighed heavy, and your mind, all too aware, refused to drift off into a restful slumber. The air felt suffused with something tense, perhaps akin to being hunted while unaware, a sensation you should have been all too familiar with considering the macabre hobby you had taken - yet now, the suffused terror in the air felt far too real, too deep for it to be dismissed as simple tricks born of fear and overactive imaginations.
Your sleep was a fitful one, flashes of crimson flowers unfurling and grasping for your sanity with the eagerness of starved animals, interspersed by a soft, tinkling laugh reminiscent of icy windchimes in a winter morning.
âAn enthusiast of the strange, how⊠intriguing.â
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, vibrating in the air in sync with the quivering flowers.
âSleep well, dear collector, and allow your dreams to wander, as for the others, they shall quiet down, soon~â
A flash of crimson eyes, watching in your peripheral vision, followed your jolt back to the waking world.
The crisp chill was unmistakable for a mere daydream born of overanxiety, the early morning air carrying the energy of frost emerging at the dawn of winter. Even as the memories of the dream flowed through your fingers, you could still hear the laughter, muffled yet unmistakable, just beyond the foggy veil that separated wakefulness and slumber.
A sense of wrongness prompted you to leap and check your prized collection, and perhaps, for the superstitious, gut feeling has always paid off. Upon arrival, you saw that some of the dolls looked a little dirty, spots of something black accompanied by thin layers of frost that hovered between within reason if the temperature of the night dropped for a single instant, to something that you would hesitantly attribute to the supernatural.
You shook your head, making a mental note to stop overthinking about this âEvernightâ doll story that sounded like truths conflated with exaggeration. For a doll bearing such a pastel, and perhaps cute, design, such a name was a little unsuitable.
Not wanting to waste time and leaving the other dolls to degrade, you quickly turned around to fetch the cleaning supplies.
A momentary flash of oh so familiar red in your peripheral vision, and then, the moment you turned to look, it was gone, the Evernight doll sitting innocently in its box, its glassy pastel eyes mocking your surely unwarranted paranoia.
You shook your head, dismissing the illusion, and fetched the cleaning supplies.
Hidden by the veil of your own lacking awareness, a single crimson flower blooms within the box.
â
In the second night, the sense of unusual oddity gave way into tentative familiarity.
The dreams were no longer flashes, no more of the unstable ripples that would obscure and blur the sights upon the slight brush of your fingers against the crimson petals. Within that world, veiled just underneath that line between reality and illusion, you once again hear that voice, that voice that mingle with the cold and laughter that sounded like tinkling icicles.
âMm, undoing my little nudge, tell me, were they so important?â
The voice was closer now, coming from silver icicles that gleamed like diamonds under the crimson glow of the petals. Diaphanous jellyfishes, flashing between deep crimson and a colorless shade float throughout the space, a strange attendant to the voice. Cracks form on the surface of the glass, and thenâ
A gloved hand, followed by a voice that sounded as if it came from the unlit parts of the abyss, sweet, beckoning, yet laced with something dark, something vicious.
âAnswer me, dear~â
There was no time to react, no time to take a step back, as tendrils emerge from the shadows of the shifting void underneath your feet, silver, soft limbs wrapping around your legs with delicate movements that belied the strength hidden behind them. Frost kissed your skin at the path of the snaking limbs, snowflakes blooming with the tick of each second, preparing you as her form emerged from the cocoon of the silver ice. Her red eyes, piercing straight into your thoughts, met yours, and the brief contact shattered any illusion of familiarity from her form.
A cold finger tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to keep the eye contact.
She scrutinized you the way one would scrutiny a rare item, careful yet without regard of your autonomy. Wherever she touched, your blood felt like they turned into ice, your movements restrained by an unseen force. Though a million questions raced in your thoughts, your tongue sat heavy, your subconscious refusing to break the moment.
âAh well, I suppose being unaware of my presence is a good enough excuse~â
She released you then, the tendrils retreating as she glided her fingertips along your arm. âThough, I have to ask, were you so distracted that you fail to notice you obtained something different, something⊠extraordinary?â
She smiled, a warm smile, a contrast to the frigid air that follows her. Even as your tongue sat heavy in your mouth, unable to formulate a response, she kept on talking, the fact that you were made to stay and listen only adding to the mirth that dripped from her every word. She leaned close and inhaled deep, her cold fingers sliding down from your chin to your chest.
âMm, she adores you, but then again, most of your collection do, too, and she may say that she is fine with sharing⊠but Iâm not. â
For a moment, her fingers lingered at your thundering heart, relishing the feeling of each beat, humming to herself as if your fear was part of an unseen art. With a soft smile, her hand slid up to your jaw, frost following her fingers.
âItâs almost time for you to wake. See you soon~â
That morning, the temperature of the bedroom dropped even further.
For several long, agonizing minutes, you were shivering, teeth clattering at the unexpected cold even as you pulled and wrapped your blankets all around you. The temperature in the room has plummeted down to something beyond freezing, your breath fogging up the air as you curled into yourself, attempting to preserve what little warmth was left in your body. Seconds stretched into eternity as the cold stayed, then retreated like a snake slithering away, a hunter reluctantly releasing the prey nestled right within its fangs.
The cold still followed you, persistent and clinging, no longer unbearable, yet still undeniably there, stopping short of tangible. Half of the morning has already gone in your fitful sleep, and exhaustion still weighed down your bones.
A quick glance at the phone revealed, a myriad of missed calls, hurried messages typed by your friend in a haze of panic. Something about missing victims, disappearances closely linked to the doll you acquired, traces of blood and demise clinging to the environment where the doll were once present.
Then, your blood turned to ice right then and there.
The doll was there, at the corner of your room, its iridescent, blueish case blending with the frost blooming in the room. For a second, the dollâs eyes flash red and it tilted its head in amusement, and as you stumbled, falling down, the doll was restored to its previous state, innocent and unassuming.
With that, you turned tail and ran.
Yet, control failed you, and now, you were in the collection room. Everything, save for the damned, damned Evernight doll, has shattered and turned into either blackened puddles of rot or a rain of shredded petals, while that doll, still sporting an innocent, almost cute smile hidden in its glass case, stood there as if taunting, its pastel colors glowing with the soft blue light of frost, interspersed with crimson, abyssal flowers that bloomed with no discretion, its petals and vines unfurling and moving along the limbs of the doll.
With trembling hands, you reach for the phone in your pocket.
âAw, you shouldnât have seen that~â
The airy, sing-song voice passed behind you, leaving no trace as you turned around.
A whisper in your ear, the same voice, their breath carrying the same chill clinging onto your body.
âNo need for fears, you know, becauseâŠâ
A swish of a dark object, and the source of the voice disappeared, leaving behind only an echo.
â⊠she likes you, thus, so do I~â
Add that to the list of reasons to get the hell out.
With shaky fingers, you dialed your friend, explaining the gist of the situation as much as your trembling limbs would allow. Even though the feeling of being watched persisted, there was no reason to delay, and you fled without looking back, out of the house, bringing nothing but the clothes on your back. As if enraged, the chill intensified for a moment, only to disappear without a trace the moment sunlight hit your skin.
To your luck, there were still a lot of daylight left.
Unaware that just behind, at the blind spot of your peripheral sight, a white, almost transluscent jellyfish follows.
â
That night, you were allowed access to your friendâs guest room.
Even though the room was warm, the chills of the encounter remained stubborn at the forefront of your thoughts, the feeling persistent enough to make you reach for the covers. Perhaps you would be toasty the next morning, but for now, it was preferable to the feeling of coldness that bordered between real and false, and taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to drift off.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
a deep inhale, and one final exhale, before you drifted off to sleep.
The darkness behind your eyelids only shifted after what felt like an eternity.
In this realm of slumber, the chill had turned palpable that your fingers felt the mist of your own shaky breaths. Vines and flowers creep underneath the dark, slithering on the ground, before climbing up your feet, bringing traces of frost in their wake.
âI told you, no need to be afraid~â
That again, that damned sing-song voice, followed by the crimson eyes that haunted your thoughts. With the vines climbing higher and higher, you couldnât move, the frost seeping into your blood, turning warm limbs into leaden weights.
Evernight.
Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, before settling on your lower lip, frost following her movements. With choked voice, you beg, you beg despite your rational mindâs screams to remind you that this wasnât real.
This was a mere dream.
This was a mere figment of yourâ
Her other hand glide to the back of your head, tangling her fingers in your hair, before gently tugging, revealing the column of your throat. With a gentleness that did little to hide the cruelty underneath, she took a deep breath, savoring the unique scent that clung to your skin.
âThis is no dream, you know?â She whispered, reading your thoughts. âYou are truly here, with me.â
You shook your head, her hand in your hair restricting your movements. Your body felt cold, so cold until your fingers and toes shiver with a mixture of fear and the environment.
âShe told me she wanted to be with you, to know more about you, to be your companion and protector, and you spurned her efforts - our efforts.â
Her lips hover close, so close you could taste the icy sweetness of her breaths.
Then, she closed the distance between you, drowning your world in a sea of cold, crimson icicles.
â
As dawn approaches, a soft knock could be heard from outside the guest room, a concerned voice calling for your name.
Yet, there was only silence, silence, the now empty, familiar iridescent blue box at the side of the roomâŠ
And the cold, cold crimson fragments, each infused with a deep, soul-piercing chill.
Could you write Kafka hypnotizing reader, don't care about anything else.
okie, thanks in advance
Control.
The air aboard the Astral Express hummed with the familiar thrum of warp travel, but to Y/N, it felt thick, suffocating. Sheâd sought solitude in a rarely-used observation lounge, drawn by the hypnotic swirl of stars beyond the reinforced glass. Her thoughts were a tangled mess â anxieties about the next mission, the gnawing emptiness she couldnât define. Thatâs when *she* appeared.
Kafka didnât enter; she materialized, a shadow detaching itself from the deeper darkness near the viewport. Her crimson eyes, glowing faintly like dying embers, fixed on Y/N. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, devoid of warmth, filled with predatory amusement.
"Troubled thoughts, little songbird?" Kafkaâs voice was a velvet purr, resonating deep within Y/Nâs bones, bypassing conscious thought. "The cosmos sings such a lonely melody tonight, doesn't it?"
Y/N stiffened, a primal fear coiling in her gut. "Kafka. What do you want?"
"Want?" Kafka chuckled, a low, chilling sound. She took a step closer, her high heels clicking softly on the metal floor, each step echoing in the sudden silence of Y/Nâs mind. "I want to conduct. To find the perfect harmony hidden beneath the noise." Her gaze intensified. "And you, my dear Y/N⊠youâre out of tune."
Y/N tried to look away, to call for help, but her limbs felt leaden. Kafkaâs eyes held her captive. They werenât just looking *at* her; they were peeling her open, layer by layer. The swirling stars outside seemed to pulse in time with the Stellaron Hunterâs presence.
"Don't fight it," Kafka murmured, her voice dropping to a hypnotic whisper that slithered into Y/Nâs ears. "Fighting only creates dissonance. Listen⊠listen to the rhythm of your own heartbeat. Slow⊠steady⊠sinking."
Against her will, Y/Nâs focus narrowed to the frantic thumping in her chest. It *was* slowing, matching the languid cadence of Kafkaâs words. The starfield beyond the glass began to blur, its pinpricks of light stretching into luminous trails.
"Good," Kafka breathed, now standing directly before her. She raised a gloved hand, not touching, but tracing the air inches from Y/Nâs temple. A faint, violet light emanated from her fingertips, carrying the scent of ozone and something ancient, metallic. "Feel the weight lifting? The useless worries, the petty fears⊠theyâre just static. Let them fade."
Y/N felt a terrifying sense of detachment. Her anxieties *did* seem distant, trivial. A profound lethargy washed over her, warm and inviting. Her knees buckled, but she didn't fall. Kafkaâs unseen will held her upright.
"Your mind is such a fascinating instrument," Kafka continued, her voice the only anchor in Y/Nâs dissolving reality. "So full of potential, yet so⊠cluttered. Let me help you find your true resonance. The one *I* choose for you." Her crimson eyes flared brighter. "Look deeper, Y/N. Into my eyes. See the symphony I weave."
It wasn't a request. It was a command etched directly onto her soul. Y/Nâs gaze locked onto Kafkaâs. The swirling crimson wasn't just color; it was a vortex. Patterns formed â spirals that tightened, fractals that repeated into infinity, each iteration pulling Y/N further down. Whispers echoed in the patterns, not Kafkaâs voice, but her own thoughts, twisted and amplified.
"Yesss," Kafka hissed, a serpentine sound of satisfaction. "There it is. The raw note beneath the chaos. Fear. Such a powerful motivator. But also⊠emptiness. A void waiting to be filled." She leaned impossibly close, her breath ghosting over Y/Nâs ear, cold despite its proximity. "I can fill it, little songbird. I can give you purpose. Peace. All you need to do⊠is surrender."
The violet light intensified, pouring from Kafkaâs hand into Y/Nâs mind. It wasn't painful; it was a chilling invasion, a glacial flood seeping into every crevice of her consciousness. Memories flickered â laughter with the Express crew, moments of determination â but they felt alien, like scenes from someone else's life. Kafkaâs presence was the only constant, the only *real* thing.
"Surrender your doubt," Kafka commanded, the words vibrating through Y/Nâs skull. "Surrender your will. Surrender your self. They are burdens you no longer need to carry. Give them⊠to me."
Resistance was ash on the wind. The last fragile threads of Y/Nâs autonomy snapped. A whimper escaped her lips, a final, pathetic sound before silence swallowed her. Her body went utterly slack, held only by Kafkaâs invisible strings. Her eyes, once reflecting the starlight, now held only a dull, vacant sheen, mirroring the hypnotic patterns still swirling in Kafkaâs gaze.
Kafka smiled, a genuine expression of dark delight. She gently cupped Y/Nâs cheek, her thumb stroking the slack skin. The touch was possessive, intimate in its utter violation. "Beautiful," she murmured. "A perfect instrument, silenced and ready to be tuned."
She leaned in again, her lips brushing Y/Nâs ear. "Now, listen closely, my dear. Your first note. Forget the Astral Express. Forget your past. Your loyalty⊠your devotion⊠belongs only to me. Kafka. Say it."
Y/Nâs lips moved, soundless at first, then a hoarse, emotionless whisper. "...Kafka."
"Good girl." Kafkaâs smile widened. "You are mine. Utterly. Completely. My will is your symphony. My desires are your purpose. Feel the peace in that? The beautiful simplicity?"
Inside the hollowed-out shell of her mind, Y/N felt⊠nothing. No peace, no terror. Just an echoing void where her self used to be. And within that void, only Kafkaâs voice resonated, clear and absolute, the only sound in the silent universe.
Kafka stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Y/N stood like a perfect doll, awaiting instruction. The vibrant, sometimes stubborn Trailblazer was gone, replaced by a vessel of exquisite emptiness. Kafka traced a finger down Y/Nâs arm, sending a phantom shiver through the unresponsive body.
"The others will miss you, of course," Kafka mused, her tone light, conversational. "March 7th will cry. Dan Heng will brood. Himeko will search. It will be⊠tragically beautiful." Her crimson eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "But they won't find *you*. They'll find my masterpiece. My obedient shadow."
She turned towards the swirling stars, her figure silhouetted against the cosmos. "Come, my little songbird. We have work to do. The Stellaronâs grand design requires⊠harmony." She didn't look back, simply extending a hand. "Follow."
Without hesitation, without a flicker of independent thought, Y/N moved. Her steps were smooth, unnaturally precise, falling into perfect sync with Kafkaâs own. She followed the Stellaron Hunter away from the observation deck, away from the Astral Express, away from everything she had ever been.
Behind them, the observation lounge was empty save for the swirling stars. The only trace of Y/N was a single tear, frozen on her vacant cheek, reflecting the cold, indifferent light of the cosmos â the final, silent elegy for the soul that had been meticulously, lovingly erased. The symphony of shattered will had reached its crescendo, leaving only the haunting, eternal note of obedience in its wake. The conductor had found her perfect instrument, and the darkness resonated with her satisfaction.
would you do something with jade from hsr or is this a Yandere male x fem reader only blog?
MYSTERY PLANT
Yandere!Jade x Reader
The little plant had been an impulse buy. Something about its dark green leaves and faintly glowing veins had caught your eye at the market stall. The vendor had given you a knowing smile, murmuring something about it being "a rare find" before you left with it in your arms.
For weeks, you nurtured it. Watered it. Whispered to it absentmindedly, mostly about your day, your grievances, your stress. You didnât expect much, but the plant seemed to thrive under your care. It grew faster than expected, twisting into intricate patterns, its leaves shimmering in the moonlight. Then, one morning, you awoke to something entirely different.
A woman. A breathtakingly elegant woman stood where the plant had been. She was tall, with fair skin, long wavy pink hair cascading down her back, and pastel blue eyes with snake-like slitted pupils. She was adorned in outfit with intricate embroidery reminiscent of the vines that once grew in her place. And she was watching you.
âGood morning, my dear gardenerâ she purred, tilting her head. âYouâve taken such good care of me⊠I thought it was time to repay the favor.â
Jade, that was the name she insisted upon, integrated into your life effortlessly. You barely had time to process her arrival before she had already taken control of things. Your home was spotless, meals prepared before you could even think about cooking, your clothes arranged to fit your schedule. She anticipated your needs before you spoke them aloud. It was unnerving, but undeniably⊠helpful.
Then you came home from work one evening to find her seated at your desk, your laptop open in front of her. The sight alone sent a chill down your spine.
âI took the liberty of handling your deadlinesâ she said without looking up, fingers gliding across the keyboard with eerie precision. âYour companyâs security is laughably weak. It was simple to access everything.â
You blanched. âJade, thatâs illegalââ
She stood, approaching you slowly, her fingers brushing along your wrist as she smiled. âWhatâs illegal is them overworking you. But donât worry, my dear⊠You wonât have to lift a finger anymore.â
âJadeâŠâ
You stared at her, surprised by everything she had done for you, but that was enough. You insisted on handling things yourself and promised you would ask for her help when things got tough. Seeing no room for argument, she relentedâthough the glint in her eyes told you she would still keep a watchful gaze over your affairs.
As a gesture of goodwill, you decided to treat her to a meal. The two of you shared a pleasant dinner, the tension between you easing ever so slightly. As the night stretched on, the warmth of the alcohol made you both a little looser, your laughter coming more easily.
Walking home together, the cool night air sobering you slightly, you found yourself stopping in front of a small vendor stall. A fortune teller sat behind a velvet-draped table, beckoning with a knowing smile.
Jade glanced at you, amusement flickering in her pastel blue eyes. âShall we see what fate has in store for us?â
You agreed.
And you both went in.
The interior of the tent was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of incense. Shadows flickered against the fabric walls as a hooded figure sat before a small, circular table. Their face was obscured, but their presence was palpable.
âNo cardsâ the figure spoke. âNo crystal ball. No illusions.â They gestured toward the empty tabletop. âOnly truth.â
Jade remained silent beside you, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. You swallowed, unsure whether to sit or run.
The figure continued. âYou seek answers, yet you walk a path where certainty is a curse.â Their fingers traced a slow circle on the tableâs surface. âKnow this: What is given cannot be taken. What is lost will not return the same.â
Jadeâs gaze never wavered. âAnd what of choice?â she asked, voice deceptively light.
The figure chuckled. âChoice is an illusion for those who believe they have it.â
As you stepped out of the tent, the night air felt colder, the streets less familiar. A subtle shift had taken place, though you couldnât name what had changed. Jadeâs hand found yours, fingers cool and steady. âAre you afraid?â she asked.
You werenât sure how to answer.
But as the days passed, the weight of the fortune tellerâs words settled into your reality. Small, inexplicable things began to shiftâmeetings canceled before you arrived, messages deleted before you read them.
Jade, however, watched it all unfold with a knowing smile.
The night after your company party, you stumbled into your home, the scent of alcohol lingering on your breath. Jade was already waiting, her eyes immediately locking onto you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
âYouâre drunk,â she observed, standing gracefully from her seat. âDid something happen?â
You slumped onto the couch, letting out a bitter chuckle. âOh, you wouldnât believe it, Jade.â You hiccupped, running a hand through your disheveled hair. âThey⊠they dumped all their work on me again. I stayed late trying to finish it, but that wasnât enough for them. And you know what else?â
Jade knelt beside you, her delicate fingers brushing against your wrist, as if grounding you. âTell meâ she urged, her voice softer now, controlled yet deadly calm.
You swallowed, your throat tight with frustration. âSome jerkâugh, one of those self-important bastardsâhe poured water all over my computer. On purpose.â Your voice cracked. âI had to do everything all over again. Everything. And they laughed, Jade. They laughed at me.â
Her grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly. âThey⊠laughed at you?â Her voice dropped to an eerily low whisper, her usually composed face betraying a flash of something dark.
You nodded, pressing your hands over your face. âIâI donât even know why I put up with it. Maybe I should just quit. Just⊠let them win.â
Jadeâs fingers trailed up to cup your cheek, forcing you to meet her gaze. There was something different in her expression nowâher usual poised demeanor cracked just enough for you to see the fury simmering beneath.
âYou should never have to suffer like this.â she murmured, her thumb brushing gently over your cheekbone. âThey have no right to treat you this way.â
You laughed again, but this time it was hollow. âThatâs just how it is.â
Jadeâs eyes narrowed, her grip turning just firm enough to keep your attention. âNo. It isnât.â A cold finality settled in her tone, something that sent an odd shiver down your spine. âNo one hurts what belongs to me.â
You were too tired, too inebriated to fully process her words. Instead, you let your head rest against her shoulder, sighing. âYou always say the weirdest thingsâŠâ
She didnât respond immediately. Instead, her fingers gently traced down your arm, her touch lingering with quiet intensity.
âSleep,â she finally whispered, a softness returning to her tone. âRest now. Iâll take care of everything.â
Somewhere in the haze of exhaustion and alcohol, you swore you heard her murmur something else.
âTheyâll regret it.â
You woke up with a pounding headache, the aftereffects of last nightâs drinking weighing heavily on your body. Blinking at the harsh morning light, you groggily reached for your phoneâonly to realize something was off.
You were late.
Panic surged through you as you shot up from the bed, only to freeze. Jade was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a neatly folded note sat on your nightstand.
You picked it up, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded the paper.
Rest, my dear. Iâll handle everything.
Jade had your company access card.
Across town, "you" walked into the office with an eerie grace, a knowing smirk playing at the edges of "your" lips. Colleagues barely looked up at first, expecting the same exhausted, overworked figure they had grown used to tormenting. But something was different today.
"You" moved with absolute confidence, eyes sharp, calculating. The first target: the one who had poured water over the laptop.
Jadeâwearing your faceâstrode to their desk and loomed over them, forcing them to look up. "Good morning" she said, voice deceptively even.
"Oh, hey, you finallyâ"
Before they could finish, Jade picked up their coffee and tipped it over their desk. The liquid seeped into their keyboard, short-circuiting the machine instantly.
A gasp. A choking sound of disbelief.
"Oops," Jade murmured, tilting her head as if genuinely puzzled. "Careless of me, isnât it?"
She leaned down, voice dropping to a whisper only they could hear. "Imagine losing all your work because of something so trivial. Must be frustrating."
The blood drained from their face.
Jade didnât stop there. Slipping into the secluded office of your superior, she shiftedâher form twisting seamlessly, posture straightening, voice deepening. Within seconds, she was no longer you.
She was your boss.
She called in every single employee who had wronged you, one by one, her expression unreadable, her voice laced with disappointment and authority.
âDo you think incompetence like this is acceptable?â she asked coolly, watching them squirm in their seats.
âB-butââ
âNo excuses.â
With a wave of her hand, termination notices were signed, security was called, and within the hour, the office was noticeably emptier.
By the time the day ended, whispers filled the office.
Something had changed.
And "you" had never looked more terrifying.
When the door to your apartment finally opened, you turned, expecting Jade. But when she stepped inside, the sight of her still sent a jolt through you.
Her expression was calm, serene even, as if she had merely run errands. She approached you, the same graceful, poised presence she always had.
âWelcome homeâ you murmured, uncertain.
She smiled, reaching up to brush her fingers against your cheek. âEverything is taken care of.â
You didnât know how.
You didnât know what, exactly, she had done.
But you knew the lengths she would go for you.
Swallowing, you hesitated before speaking. "Is there... anything I can do for you?"
Jadeâs smile widened just slightly. She tilted her head, considering your words before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
âYouâre already doing enoughâ she murmured. âJust stay by my side.â
I love your yandere aglaea fic!!! And I wanted to request (I don't know if u take requests or not if u don't want to u can ignore đ ) for a yandere castorise fic where reader is very happy go lucky kind of person and wants to be friends with her not knowing how obsessed castorise is with her
Have a great day!!! Byeee~
Yandere!Castorice x Reader
The first time you met her, Castorice stood at the threshold of your humble dwelling, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of lavender. There was something unsettlingly quiet about her, a stillness that made the air around her feel heavy, like an eerie lull before a storm. Yet, when she spoke, her voice was smooth, hypnotic, a whisper of wind through the trees.
"You are... unaffected by me."
It wasn't a question, but an observation. Her amethyst eyes, watched you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You had heard whispers of her abilities- or curse, the way her touch left things wither.. And yet, as you stood there, bathed in the glow of fireflies and the gentle luminescence of your healing sanctuary, you felt nothing but curiosity.
"Well, that makes me special, doesn't it?" you said, beaming.
A hand reached up, brushing away a loose strand of hair from her forehead. The motion was slow, deliberate.
"Yes" she murmured. "Special."
From that moment, she kept coming back.
At first, she claimed it was for conversation, drawn by your warmth, your lighthearted laughter, the way you spoke to her as if she were merely a weary traveler and not something to be feared. You made tea, hummed melodies as you ground herbs, and treated her as if she were simply another patient. But beneath her calm demeanor, behind the gentle way she regarded you, there was a fixation that only deepened with each visit.
One evening, as you handed her a vial of healing tincture, your fingers brushed against hers. A jolt ran through you, not from any ability of hers, but from the way her lips curled into something that wasnât quite a smile.
"You are kind" she mused, rolling the glass between her fingers. "Perhaps too kind."
"Is that a bad thing?"
She tilted her head, silver-lavender strands slipping over her shoulders like woven stardust. "It makes you fragile. Fragility invites ruin."
You laughed, lighthearted as always, brushing off her cryptic words. But you didnât see the way her fingers tightened around the vial, nor the way her eyes darkened as she watched you turn away.
You were the only one immune to her power. The only one who saw her as something more than a shadow lurking in the periphery of existence. And in Castoriceâs mind, that meant you were hers. You just didnât know it yet.
One fateful night, a thief broke into your sanctuary, ransacking your supplies and leaving you battered and weak on the cold floor. You barely remembered the aftermath, your mind fogged with pain, but Castorice was there. When you woke, she was by your bedside, her fingers ghosting over your wounds as a chilling silence settled between you.
You never learned what happened to the thief. But there were whispers of a brutal reckoning in the dead of night, of someone who had disappeared without a trace. Castorice never spoke of it, and you never asked.
Life continued, and so did her visits.
One day, you invited her to a festival in town, eager to share something bright and joyful. To your surprise, she agreed.
That evening, as lanterns flickered to life and the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider filled the air, Castorice walked beside you, a strange, unreadable expression on her face. You led her through the bustling streets, showing her colorful stalls and lively performances. At first, she seemed distant, her gaze flickering over the crowd as though searching for something unseen. But as you placed a sweet pastry in her hand and nudged her toward a game booth, she relented, indulging in the warmth of your presence. Of course, she kept her distance with strangers for their own good.
She watched as you laughed, your eyes alight with childlike excitement. She listened as you spoke about trivial thingsâyour favorite foods, the silly little stories behind the trinkets you admired. And when you bought her a delicate silver hairpin shaped like a butterfly, she held it between her fingers, something almost softening in her expression.
"It suits you" you said, grinning. "You should wear it."
Her fingers traced the edges of the hairpin before she carefully tucked it into her hair. "You are foolish... Y/n.." she murmured, "to be so kind to me."
"Maybe" you said, undeterred. "But I like seeing you happy."
The night stretched on, and when the festival came to an end, you invited her to stay at your home. She accepted without hesitation.
As you settled into bed, exhaustion finally taking hold, Castorice sat beside you, her fingers lightly brushing against your hair. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing.
"Sleep" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You are safe."
Something in her tone felt absolute, unshakable. As your consciousness faded, you felt the last sensation of her cool fingers tracing the side of your face, gentle, possessive.
The moment the egg cracked open, you expected something simple. A creature, perhaps a loyal companion to aid you in your travels, something small, manageable. But as the smooth shell split apart, the air shimmered with a strange energy, and a shadow emerged from within.
A man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and unfairly beautiful, he stretched as though shaking off centuries of sleep. Golden hair framed his face in wild, tousled strands, catching the light like threads of molten metal. His striking eyes, a combination of cyan and magenta, locked onto yours, vivid and sharp, filled with something you couldnât quite name.
âWell, well.â His voice was smooth, indulgent, laced with quiet amusement. âArenât you lucky?â
Before you could even process what was happening, he moved. A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into an embrace. His warmth pressed against you, a sharp contrast to the cool air of the room.
âIâm Aventurine~â he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. âAnd it looks like Iâm yours.â
You knew what this was. Youâd read about it before. Baby duck syndrome. The first thing a newborn creature sees, it imprints upon, forms an unbreakable bond.
You tried to step back. His arms didnât budge.
âAventurineâ you said carefully, your voice wavering, âmaybe we should-â
He chuckled, cutting you off. âThereâs no need to be so stiff, treasure. You donât have to worry.â His hand lifted, brushing strands of hair from your face. The touch was gentle. âIâll take care of you.â
You swallowed. âThatâs⊠not necessary.â
His smile widened. âOh, but it is.â
âNo need to be afraidâ he murmured, tilting his head. âI already know everything about you.â
âWhat?â
His fingers trailed down your arm, slow and deliberate. âI was inside that egg for three days, listening. Watching. Learning. Every little thing about you.â His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. âAnd now⊠I finally get to touch you.â
âThatâs notââ
His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath your skin. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his throat.
âExcited?â He chuckled. âI canât blame you. After all⊠you summoned me.â
The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.
You had put in the currency.
You had pulled the lever.
You had brought him into existence.
In his eyes, that meant one thing. You belonged to him.
Panic rose in your throat, but before you could say anything else, Aventurine cupped your face between his hands, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
âIâll be good to youâ he promised, his voice velvet-soft. âIâll be everything you need. Everything you want.â His fingers pressed a little harder, just enough to make your heart hammer in warning. âAnd in return⊠youâll be mine.â
Aventurineâs stomach growled. It was the first break in the tension since his⊠dramatic arrival.
His intense stare melted for a brief moment into something almost normal as he placed a hand over his stomach and huffed, looking mildly embarrassed.
You took the opportunity. If heâs hungry, then I have a reason to step away.
âIâll cook somethingâ you blurted out, turning toward the small kitchenette. âWhy donât you take a bath in the meantime?â
Aventurine blinked, then smiled lazily. âTaking care of me already? How sweet.â
You ignored the implication, already moving toward the ingredients you had. Not much. Barely enough for a proper meal, but you could make do.
Aventurine stretched, then smirked. âGuess Iâll take you up on that offer. But donât miss me too much, alright?â
Oh, I wonât.
As soon as you heard the water running, you bolted. Not out the door, no, that would be reckless, but to quickly gather anything that would help. New clothes. A weapon. Supplies. An excuse to have some space from him.
The weapon shop was your first stop. If you were going to survive with him, he needed gear, something that would let him fight in the dungeons, earn his keep.
The shopkeeper eyed you as you browsed. âBuying for someone?â
You hesitated, then nodded. âYeah. Heâs⊠new.â
That wasnât a lie.
âWell, letâs see what he can handle.â
Aventurine arrived just as the shopkeeper was about to suggest something basic. He had changed into the spare clothes you found earlier, but they fit him loosely, still damp from his shower. His golden hair was dripping, and damn him, he still looked effortlessly elegant.
He immediately came to your side, standing just a bit too close. âYouâre picking out a weapon for me?â His voice was teasing, but there was a pleased edge to it.
âItâs practicalâ you muttered. âIf youâre staying with me, youâll need to fight.â
âOh? You want me to protect you?â
âThatâs⊠not what I said.â
The shopkeeper, blissfully unaware of the tension, gestured toward a set of swords and daggers. âHere, try these.â
Aventurine barely spared them a glance. Instead, his fingers brushed over a dark-bladed dagger with intricate carvings. The moment he touched it, a faint shimmer of magic pulsed through the air.
The shopkeeperâs eyes widened. âThatâsââ
Aventurine flipped the dagger in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips. âDefense magic, huh? Thatâs a useful trick.â He twirled the blade effortlessly before giving you a sidelong glance. âSee? I can handle myself.â
You frowned. Heâs skilled. More than you expected.
Still, you paid for the weapon. Better for him to have it and use it for dungeon runs than⊠whatever else he has in mind.
After stocking up, you both headed home, passing through the market district. Thatâs when Aventurineâs sharp gaze locked onto something.
A crowd.
A gambling crowd.
People were shouting excitedly, coins clinking as dice rolled.
His lips curled in amusement. âWhatâs this?â
You tensed. âA waste of time.â
His smirk widened. âCome on, treasure. A little gamble never hurt anyone.â
âIt does when you lose all your money.â
âBut what if I donât lose?â
You exhaled sharply. âAventurineââ
Too late. He was already striding forward.
You groaned, following reluctantly. This was a terrible idea.
The moment Aventurine placed a bet, something strange happened.
The dice always landed in his favor. Cards always turned in his favor.
People muttered, eyes narrowing. âIs he cheating?â
âNot a chanceâ the dealer said grimly. âIâve been watching. Heâs just⊠insanely lucky.â
Within minutes, Aventurine had doubled, then tripled his winnings. He turned to you, holding up a handful of winnings with a wicked grin. âSee? I told you.â
You crossed your arms. âItâs dangerous to win too much.â
His eyes glowed with amusement. âWhy? Afraid someone might get jealous?â
Yes. But that wasnât the real problem. The problem was him. The way he enjoyed pushing limits.
You grabbed his wrist. âWeâre leaving.â
Aventurine blinked, then smirked. âOh? Possessive already?â
Still, he let you pull him away, even as the crowd buzzed behind you.
As you walked back home, Aventurine toyed with a golden coin between his fingers, glancing at you with unreadable intent.
âYou knowâŠâ His voice was low, teasing. âMaybe I really am the luckiest man alive.â
You didnât respond. But as he slipped his free hand into yours, holding it far too tightly, you realized something chilling: He wasnât talking about the gambling.
You woke up to an empty room.
For a moment, panic gripped your chest. Had he left? Had he changed his mind?
But then, the glowing screen of your status interface caught your eye. Your points had skyrocketed. You blinked, staring at the numbers increasing in real-time. What the hell? The only explanation was him. He had gone out and soloed a dungeon. You exhaled, rubbing your temples.
With a sigh, you moved to the kitchen, deciding to cook breakfast while you had the chance. Whatever his reasons, he had at least earned a meal. You prepared an extra plate, leaving it on the table for him in case he returned while you were out.
You needed time to yourself.
After everything that had happened: the imprinting, the suffocating presence, the gambling spree,... You needed some space to breathe.
As you strolled through the bustling streets, you found your gaze lingering on pet owners. Dogs trotting beside their humans, birds perched on shoulders, even a few rare magical beasts following their companions. It was normal. Yet your egg had spawned a man.
Why?
Your fingers tightened around your bag. Was this normal? Was there something wrong with that machine?
By the time you returned home, you heard voices.
Aventurineâs smooth, teasing tone. And a womanâs sharp, irritated response.
Heâs arguing with someone?
You stepped inside, eyes immediately locking onto the scene.
Aventurine stood near the entrance, arms crossed, expression smug. His golden hair caught the light, making him look deceptively relaxed. The woman in front of him looked less amused. She had striking violet eyes, dark robes, and an air of authority. A merchant? A guild member?
âYou owe usâ she hissed.
Aventurine tilted his head, all mock innocence. âDo I?â
The womanâs gaze flickered to you as you entered, lips pressing into a thin line.
âYou!â she said flatly. âYouâre his keeper, arenât you?â
Before you could respond, Aventurineâs smile sharpened. âNow, now,â he murmured, stepping toward you. His hand landed firmly on your lower back, pulling you close. âThereâs no need to drag my dear partner into this.â
The woman scoffed. âSo you havenât told them, huh?â
You looked between them. âTold me what?â
Aventurine sighed dramatically. âItâs nothing serious. Just a little misunderstanding.â
The womanâs eyes narrowed. âHe cheated.â
You froze. âWhat?â
Aventurine chuckled. âThatâs a strong accusation.â
The woman crossed her arms. âYou won an unnatural amount of times. The casino wants their money back.â
You knew he was lucky. But was it really cheating?
You turned to Aventurine, watching the way his lips twitched in amusement.
ââŠDid you?â
He grinned. âDefine cheating.â
The woman huffed. âListen. Just return the winnings and we wonât cause trouble.â
You hadnât touched a single coin from his gambling spree. You had no interest in dirty money, and you had told him as much.
You turned to Aventurine. âJust give it back.â
His grip on you tightened.
âI donât think I will.â
The woman scoffed. âTypical.â
Aventurine sighed, shaking his head. âCome on, treasure. Why should I give up something I rightfully won?â His eyes glinted with amusementâand challenge. âUnless, of course, you donât trust me?â
Before you could argue, the woman straightened. âFine. If you wonât return it, then prove it wasnât a fluke.â
Aventurine raised a brow. âOh?â
She smirked. âA wager.â
His expression lit up with interest. âNow that,â he purred, âsounds fun.â
You barely resisted the urge to slam your head against the wall.
Aventurineâs eyes gleamed with amusement. âA wager, huh?â
The woman smirked, arms crossed. âThatâs right. A proper gambling match. If you win, you keep the money. If you lose, you return every last coin.â
Aventurine thrived on risk, thrill, dangerâthis was just entertainment to him. But if the casino was challenging him, that meant they werenât convinced his luck was natural.
You saw the way Aventurine was looking at you: expectant, testing. As if he was waiting to see if you would stop him.
âI accept.â Aventurineâs grin widened.
The woman exhaled sharply, clearly expecting this answer. âFine. Tomorrow night. High-stakes table.â
You hated everything about this.
The woman gave you a sharp look before turning on her heel and leaving.
The moment the door shut, you rounded on Aventurine. âWhat the hell was that?!â
He chuckled. âOh, treasure. Donât look so upset.â
âYou just agreed to gamble against a casino! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!â
He hummed, stepping closer, hands sliding into his pockets. âDangerous? Or exciting?â
You scowled. âAventurine!â
He caught your wrist, gently but firmly. âYou doubt me.â
You hesitated.
âI donâtââ You exhaled sharply. âI donât trust them. They wouldnât offer this bet unless they had a plan.â
Aventurine chuckled, tugging you closer. âAnd yet⊠youâre worried about me.â
His fingers brushed over your pulse. âHow sweet.â
You swallowed. âJust be careful.â
Aventurine smirked, pleased. âOf course. After allâŠâ His voice dropped to a whisper. âI wouldnât want to leave you all alone.â
The casino was packed.
Golden lights flickered overhead, the air thick with tension and anticipation. Aventurine looked completely at ease, dressed in sleek black, looking dangerously elegant. His golden hair fell in loose waves, eyes gleaming like polished gems under the chandeliers.
You felt out of place beside him, but Aventurine didnât let you stray. His arm remained draped around your waist, his fingers tracing small circles against your skin.
âYouâre nervousâ he murmured, lips dangerously close to your ear.
You stiffened. âI donât trust this.â
He chuckled. âThen trust me.â
Before you could respond, the dealer motioned for the game to begin.
High stakes. One match. Winner takes all.
Aventurineâs smile was sharp as a knife.
The cards were dealt. Dice rolled. Coins clinked.
Aventurine played with effortless confidence.
Every turn, every call, he moved like he already knew the outcome. As if fate itself bent to his will.
The other players grew tense. Whispers spread.
A final roll. A reveal.
Aventurine leaned back with a satisfied sigh. âWell⊠looks like I win.â
Then the woman from before scowled. âThisâthis isnât normal.â
Aventurine tilted his head. âAre you accusing me of cheating?â
The casino staff shifted, uncertain. They wanted to. But there was no evidence.
Aventurine turned to you with a pleased smile. âSee, treasure? Nothing to worry about.â
You exhaled shakily.
But as you looked at the dealerâat the way his hands trembled, his expression grim, you felt a creeping sense of unease.
Because Aventurine hadnât just won. He had shattered the game entirely. And for the first time⊠you wondered if his luck was something more than just chance.
The moment you both stepped into your old apartment, you knew, you couldnât stay here anymore. Not after the casino incident. Not after the way people had started watching you both. The absurd amount of points and money Aventurine had earned made you both a target. And that was the last thing you needed.
You exhaled. âWeâre moving.â
Aventurine raised a brow, lounging lazily on the couch. âOh?â
You crossed your arms. âWe have the money for a better place. Itâs safer this way.â
He tilted his head, studying you. Then, slowly, a pleased smile curled on his lips.
âProtecting me, are you?â
You stiffened. âIâno. Iâm protecting myself.â
Aventurine only chuckled, stretching like a satisfied cat. âMmm. Whatever you say, treasure.â
With a new apartment secured, you had another thought.
Aventurine looked like a disaster.
Not in the way you wanted, he was still frustratingly beautiful. But his clothes were either borrowed, stolen, or just not fitting his presence.
So you dragged him to the mall.
Aventurine smirked as you sifted through outfits, your eyes sharp with concentration. âI never took you for the type to play dress-up.â
You rolled your eyes. âYou stick out too much in your usual mess. If weâre moving to a nicer place, you should at least look the part.â
He hummed in amusement but let you work. And, of course, the moment he tried on anything remotely elegantâhe drew attention. Women whispered. Staff fawned over him. A group of admirers even giggled near the fitting rooms, watching as he adjusted a sleek black suit.
Aventurine was dangerous in a tailored outfitâsharp lines, golden hair effortlessly styled, eyes glinting with mischief. He thrived under the attention.
You, however, had enough.
Leaving him to entertain his admirers, you slipped away to the nearest bar. You just needed one drink. One moment to breathe without him watching you so closely.
The bar was dimly lit, quiet despite the low hum of conversation. You ordered something strong, letting the burn distract you from the ever-present weight of Aventurineâs presence.
But, of courseâŠ
It didnât last long.
A glass clinked onto the counter beside you.
âYou wound me, treasure.â
You tensed.
Aventurine slid into the seat beside you, smirking. His new outfit fit him far too well, making him look even more untouchable.
âYou ran offâ he murmured, swirling the drink in his hand. âWere you jealous?â
You scoffed. âI just needed a break.â
He chuckled, taking a slow sip. âAnd yet, here you areâdrinking alone.â
You didnât reply.
Aventurine leaned in, voice dangerously soft. âWhat am I going to do with you, hm?â
You ignored the shiver down your spine and ordered another drink.
The world blurred.
You hadnât meant to drink so much, but Aventurine kept pushing.
Another glass. Another toast. Another teasing smile. By the time you stumbled out of the bar, the streets swayed beneath your feet.
Aventurine, of course, was perfectly fine.
He caught you easily, holding you upright with effortless strength.
âTsk, tsk,â he hummed, lips brushing against your ear. âLook at you. Completely at my mercy.â
You hated how warm he felt.
Aventurine sighed, lifting you into his arms without effort.
âI guess Iâll have to take care of you, wonât I?â
You barely registered the journey back.
Soft sheets. A familiar scent. The feeling of being lowered onto the bed. Aventurineâs fingers brushed your forehead, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear.
ââŠYou shouldnât be so reckless, treasure.â
Your vision blurred. âMâfineâŠâ
He chuckled, low and dark. âNo. Youâre really not.â
You were slippingâconsciousness fading.
But just before sleep took you, you felt it.
A hand on your cheek. Aventurineâs voice, barely a whisper.
ââŠYou donât even realize, do you?â
A slow, deliberate sigh.
âI was always meant to be yours.â
---
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