My name both here and on other networks is Popa or Peporovich, I have been a fanfic writer for a long time. I've been writing Yandere fanfics for a long time, and I love Tumblr, so i started to write in this app.
So, let me welcome y'all with this
Master list
So, maybe i dont know a lot about Tumblr post (because im accustomed to Wattpad) so excuse me if i do mistakes through this masterlist :<.
My native language is Spanish, therefore, since my English is not good, I will use the google translator. I'm going to upload my fanfics that are already in Spanish here!
I am part of several fandoms, but my fanfics and stories are purely and exclusively Yanderes, men, women, creatures, etc. Although these fanfics are in Spanish on Wattpad, I could post the English version on Tumblr.
One thing to clarify: I kindly ask that, if placing an order, you specify the gender of the reader, since it affects a lot when I translate it into English thanks to my lack of English <3
And, im gonna put the things that i can writte through requests.
Secondary Wattpad account (Were everything is in Spanish): @Mondongohater32
If you want to make a request, there are manly chooses!
But, if you want one, you need to put just two obligatory things.
And there are:
-Put if you want a One-Shot, Headcanon or other things that I do (I put them right here 👇🏻)
I can write:
-Only Yandere requests.
-Yandere female, male, non-binary, etc.
-Headcanons.
-One shots.
-"Correspondence messages to a lost lover"
-"In each situation, how would this Yandere react?"
-Gore.
-(Reader) storys.
I Cannot write:
-Harem
-Incest
-NSFW (At least now)
-Characters under 18 years x character +18 years.
-Extreme violence.
-Strange fetishes (Like feets or things that are common in R34).
-Oc's
Series, video games, movies, etc. for which I can write requests:
Also, I made a total count of the number of one-shots and Headcanons I've made so far (those I have saved and those I uploaded to Tumblr), each with their respective links to go there <3
The dynamic goes like this:
-The red color is for those already finished and uploaded to Tumblr.
-The light blue color is for those already finished but only available on Wattpad.
-The ones without color are NOT finished yet.
Tally of all half-done stories/projects:
“Let me tell you a story” – One shots
One shots made:
Kimetsu No Yaiba
-Yandere! Upper Moons xfemale reader (Part 1):Only on Wattpad
-Yandere Upper Moons x female Reader (Part 2): Only on Wattpad
-Yandere! Muichiro Tokito x female Reader: Only on Wattpad
Kengan Ashura
-Yandere! Kaede Akiyama x Fighter! male Reader: read here
-Yandere! Cosmo Imai x female reader: read here
-Yandere! Setsuna Kiryu x female Reader: read here
Super Champions/Captain Tsubasa
-Yandere! Genzo Wakabayashi x female reader:Only on Wattpad
-Yandere! Kojiro Hyuga x female Reader:Only on Wattpad
-Yandere! Jun Misugi x female Reader.: read here
League of Legends
-Yandere! Sett x Neutral reader: read here
-Yandere! Morgana Star Nemesis x male Reader: read here
-Yandere! Talon Du Couteau x female Reader: read here
-Yandere! Pyke x Male! Reader: read here
-Yandere! Primal Ambush! Talon x Fem! Reader: read here
-Yandere! Blood Moon! Shen x Male! Reader: read here
Dragon ball
-Yandere! Future Trunks x female reader:Only on Wattpad
Yakuza
-Yandere! Goro Majima x female reader: Only on Wattpad
Naruto
-Yandere! Hidan + Yandere! Kakuzu x female reader:Only on Wattpad
Mortal Kombat
-Yandere! Smoke + Yandere! Sub-zero (Kuai Liang in this case) x female Reader:Only on Wattpad
Far Cry 3
-Yandere! Vaas x female reader : Only on Wattpad
DC Universe
-Yandere! Clark Kent + Yandere! Bruce Wayne x female Reader: read here
OC'S
-Yandere! Evelyn x female Reader: Only on Wattpad
-Yandere! Baker x female reader
One shots unfinished in general:
-Yandere! Jack the Ripper x female reader (Shuumatsu No Valkyrie)
-Yandere! Fem! Angron x male Reader (Warhammer 40k)
-Yandere! Santana x female reader(Superchampions/Captain Tsubasa)
-Yandere! Harem! Captain Tsubasa x female Reader.
2. "More than 100 headcanons" (League of legends Yandere headcanons)
-Yandere! Aatrox headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Ashe headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Aurelion Sol headcanons:
-Yandere! Akali headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Aphelios headcanons: read here
-Yandere!Akshan headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Ahri headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Braum headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Caitlyn headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Cassiopeia headcanons:
-Yandere! Camille headcanons:
-Yandere! Darius headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Draven headcanons:
-Yandere! Diana headcanons:
-Yandere! Talon Du Couteau headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Zed headcanons: read here
Yandere! Blood Moon line of skins:
-Yandere! Blood Moon! Shen for a male Reader: read here
-Yandere! Blood Moon! Yasuo headcanons: read here
-Yandere! Blood Moon! Talon headcanons: read here
Yandere! High Noon line of skins:
-Yandere! High Noon! Talon headcanons: read here
I add more when i have time (and also im gonna put some one-shots that are only avaible on Wattpad <3)
Honestly I don’t want Geralt to appear in the Witcher 4. I want Ciri to get a package halfway through with a letter like
“hey kid, hope your doing well. The sun is still shining in Toussaint so Dandelion bought me a sunhat on his last visit. Yen hates it. We’re testing a new fermentation procedure so I send you a bottle of wine. If it doesn’t taste good you can just throw it at a wyvern. Also the duchess invited us to another banquet :((. Anyway have fun on the path, kiss some women, your mom and I love you bye”
And that’s it. Let the old man have his retirement please!
(IM SOWY ANON I DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST BCS I WANTED TO CHANGE SOMETHING AND NOW I HAD TO DO ANOTHER ONE 😭😭)
Anon: Hello Popa, I love your writing and tier lists! Could I kindly request Vladimir League of Legends headcanons?
Author's note: I look Vlad in a really different way after reading the orphanage story, so im for sure changing his position in the tier list.
♥︎Phase 1: General headcanons.♥︎
-After Talon, I consider Vladimir to be the least sadistic Yandere in Noxus. Although unlike the aforementioned, Vlad has experience in what human feelings are.
-He tends to express his love with paintings, like Hwei, although he tends to do it out of pure feeling rather than out of pleasure.
-Of all the Yanderes, he's one of the firsts who takes his feelings and understand them because, as I already mentioned, he knows himself well enough to differentiate between affection for other people and for his loved one.
-If you are not strictly related to the black rose, then it is obvious that he will hide from you that he is part of them, especially if you show sensitivity to issues related to death and/or violence in general.
-His jealousy is the most controlled, going so far as to pretend in a very natural way that he likes someone who, literally speaking, plans to disappear and then kill.
-He tends to be more serene with displays of affection, only showing signs of affection when you tell him so.
-He does not like to joke about the orphanage, try, as much as possible, not to irritate him with that subject.
-He does not see you as an absolute possession of his, he simply sees you as the person he will be married to for the rest of his days, poor anyone who tries to tell him otherwise.
-Many times —more than can be counted— he thinks about what will happen if you die, could he be happy again? Will his paintings continue to carry that beautiful memory? Or will they just become a rotten stain that is hidden from him for fear of being burned by the depression generated? He doesn't know, and he hates to think about it.
-He is, within all the good, the one who most easily gets information about you; contacts from the black rose to people outside of Noxus; unlike the others, he has a lot of people behind him, even outside his comfort zone.
♥︎Phase 2: Placed on the tier list.♥︎
Although I previously put that he was in the role of a possessive type, after reading the story of the orphanage, I have to admit that my perspective on him changed a lot; now I would describe him as one inclined to protectors with a touch of the classic, because he shows signs of being less violent than an average Noxian champion, but at the same time he has those touches of classic possessiveness of a Yandere; the idea of marriage, of parenting, of certain excesses of control over his partner, etc.
♥︎Phase 3: Story proposals ♥︎
-(Name) was previously a girl at the orphanage he ran, one of the most loving and tender ones, being the object of adoration of many adults, although Vladimir does not seem to care much, the affection remained stuck in his heart even after a couple of years, although he limited himself to not seeing that sweet girl because, for obvious reasons, he does not long to become so fond of a human, to his bad luck, the sweet girl he once knew crossed paths with him again, greeting and hugging his figure as if he were her father; she still loved him (not as a father, but in a platonic way), and refused to let him leave her as her parents had left her at such a young age.
-(Name) accompanied Vladimir in the creation and management of many of the orphanages he created, being the ideal mother of lost children in the immortal bastion. Seeing (Name) as a mother figure and Vladimir as a father figure —even if they rarely seen him— made the children think that they were mom and dad, which eventually leads to awkward situations.
-(Name) is an important member of the black rose, a power similar to hers and —optionally— with unlimited immortality that helps her maintain control and gradually power in her limited space. She and Vladimir have constant encounters because (Name) thinks that her weakness for the children of those places was only an infantilization of Vladimir's figure as an authority within the closed circle of the black rose.
♥︎Phase 4: Probabilities♥︎
Chances of kidnapping: 50%
Chances of death: 10%
♥︎Phase 5: Story prototype + extra data♥︎
➳♥Probability of your loved ones being killed.
While Vladimir tends to be a more serene and calm person, a movement in his mind such as obsession leads him to believe that certain measures are necessary. 60%
➳♥Approach.
Depending on the story, he may or may not need your help; if it's the first case, then he would be much more natural —or so it seems in your eyes—, highlighting his natural charm a couple of times to gain your trust. Now, if it's the other way around, he's a little more serious, because, as is natural in Noxus, he doesn't trust people at first sight.
➳♥ Falling in love
This falling in love occurs only because of a thought that goes against what he's used to; nostalgia for the past, pain for those dead souls and the pain of oblivion that runs through his mind after so many years of life are, directly, the opposite of feeling happy; being wrapped up in a single person that the mere thought of their presence causes him enormous happiness is, without a doubt, a white spot in his dark life; remarkable and even indelible in him.
➳♥Beginning of the cycle
It starts with jealousy, but small, very small, so much that they are almost invisible in his mind, and of course, it's not until passive-aggressive comments escape that he himself notices that, evidently, his affection for a certain person is extremely strange.
➳♥Murder His first murder is of someone very close but very harmful; he justifies himself by saying that it was the other's fault for having hurt you, even knowing that you could defend yourself, he tells himself that it is not his fault, that everything he does he does because he loves you, because you are important to him.
➳♥Relationship or kidnapping
He is very hesitant about kidnapping, so much so that he prefers to have a relationship with you, of course if you try to get away from him, you will find that he will sabotage your escapes; but he would never consider kidnapping as an option - unless in an exception.
➳♥Coexistence
He is, in every sense of the word, the best companion when it comes to coexistence; he can discuss and fix problems without any kind of complications and at the same time not look for unnecessary fights; he wants his wife to live for many years, and if that involves getting away from many things in order to achieve it, he will do it.
➳♥Family or marriage.
I am a little afraid about children; An immortal and a mortal would make for a strange species, however, let's not forget that there is already a daughter of Vladimir; Briar would be very happy to have a mother, and she would be constantly on top of you, shouting "mom" and bothering Vlad about when he plans on her having a little sister to take care of.
(I don't think she will be the best big sister of all time but alright)
➳♥Bad ending
Well, I prefer to refer to the fact that you actually died, in the purest sense of the word. And right when your body already abandoned by life, he felt desperate, such was the level of his desperation, that he decided to bring you back to life. No, it didn't matter what everyone's opinion was, how bad it was to play with life, the lack of respect for a body killed in battle, nothing matters. When your eyes opened, your warm body had returned, his arms surrounded you, the tension in his body was such that you even felt that it wasn't really him who was before you, but a copy of your beloved protector.
But that doesn't matter, everything is fine, you are alive, you will not leave his memory or his mind, you are alive, and that is the only thing that matters.
➳♥Reasons to be a Yandere:
-The habit of the feeling of nostalgia and the loneliness of being an immortal being is totally the opposite of what the feeling of affection can generate.
-He knows that you can die, even if you fight like no other, even if you have the best of luck, you are not immortal, you are a being that cannot survive if everything is torn from your body; you cannot put yourself back together.
-Apart from everything, we see that behind his shell of a man incapable of love we find someone who takes care of people even if it is not his obligation. He is already much more empathetic than any other Noxian from the main lore, which causes him this inconvenience of getting too attached to a specific woman.
➳♥Extra things:
-He is likely to use children to manipulate you if you have a relationship with them.
-He is more manipulative than other Yanderes, but he usually hides it more due to his charismatic nature.
-It is very unlikely that someone will get into the relationship between you two, especially since anyone who knows Vladimir knows that he is not easy to fool.
Author's note: Happy new year to all of you! I want to end this year with a little one-shot (medium, because the request of the person who told me to do this idea also wanted the same plot but with Sam). Soooo, with this one-shot I want to start a new and full of fanfics year!
The reality tastes like honey
Yandere! Selfware! Raiden x Fem! Reader
Nothing.
Behind so many years of life, so many adventures, traumas, situations of death and missing people, there's nothing.
A code panel that seems to define his existence as a character is his only eye. Doubt gnaws at his heart, the traces of humanity seem to submerge in an unparalleled sorrow after the discovery of a fact that, if it was possible, he would have longed to never know.
Raiden cannot contain his own emotions; the confusion is at such a level that, if he could vomit, he would have done so, if he could faint, he would have done so too, but he was not 100% human now, or at least, that was what he thought.
Knowing that your own decisions were not entirely yours is an unimpeachable emotional burden that cannot be compared to anything; the destiny that he called his own for so long did not belong to him, nor his body, nor his soul, nor his movements, nor his words, nothing. Everything that he believed to be his life already patented under a company with name and members.
He can feel all his fears repressing his existence with such fervor that even the only voice he hears is not entirely audible to him. The fear is still there, but then an error happen, a break in a code that was stable until he decided to leave that vicious circle where he only followed orders. Finally, his trance is cancelled, being forced to fall back to earth. The raised dust is the first smell he perceives, and the touch of the earth beneath him seems to be as real as the air he breathes, but now that everything is done, there is nothing, there is nothing but a hollow thought where his entire life is questioned.
His childhood, his reason for being, his change, the handling of weapons, the exchanges of flesh for metal pieces and patterns of cables all over his body, nothing was real, nothing was made for him to handle, nothing was his, nothing and no one in his world was really human, everyone was, without the desire to be, hooked machines that had to fulfill their place in the machine of the existence of this world.
—Raiden! —The doctor shouted. —What happened?! I couldn't see anything, everything was dark, I only heard your breathing —The man shouted, with a desperation never seen before—. And your pulse, damn, it was like you were about to have a cardiac arrest or something like that, I never saw anything like that!
The poor man was barely able to get up from the ground, still shaking, as if his life was about to be ripped from him in a jerk, which, in one way or another, is the closest thing to what he could feel.
—Raiden? —He asked again.
The man called was slow to respond, his back hitting the wall.
—It's nothing.
—Come back with me now, who knows what can happen to you after such an abrupt change.
—I already said I'm fine —he hissed—. I-I just need a minute, when I recover I'll continue with the mission.
—No, I can't let you continue as if nothing happened.
Neither of the two men seemed to give in, one out of concern and the other out of shock, as if he was still digesting what he had just seen before the moment he had suffered.
—You have to come back now.
—No.
Raiden could barely respond to the alarmed state of his companion and friend, as if his own brain had been recently split in half and rebuilt in a matter of seconds.
—Raiden, I swear to god that if you don't come back now...
And the call is abruptly cut off, closing the screen almost instantly. Raiden continues trying to assimilate what happened, breathing heavily, organizing his thoughts with all his mental strength. He understood and did not understood at the same time, he longed to know more as he longed to stop knowing what had happened, the contradiction could not leave his mind.
One image in particular appears in his memory; it was a girl. Headphones on, a scandalous laugh and a controller in her hands, her eyes full of emotion and adrenaline are a vivid memory that this girl had something to do with that corrupt and inhuman panel, he felt overwhelmed, and at the same time, infinitely curious about who she was.
Days passed and he did not fully recover; The doctor advised him to rest, while he investigated what caused someone as calm as Raiden to suffer a near short circuit from so many beats of a custom-made metal heart, and great is his disappointment every time he finds that, indeed, he could not find a solution to what caused that crazy event.
And it is then that news reached the ears of that doctor whose interest in rumors that reached the whole world was null; a woman that nobody knew, and whose existence was also unrecorded. She appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the base, as if she had fallen from the sky.
Her worn appearance gave clues that she had not actually gone there of her own free will, or at least that was the first suspicion they had. After several questions, they determined that she actually did not even know where she was; she did not know what country she was in; she did not know what facility she was in; and much less what the company she had visited did.
The doctor personally went to talk to her, since she had invaded private property hidden from the world. Eventually, upon meeting him, he realized that this woman was the same as the one Raiden had described the day he almost died. Between fear, confusion, and the feeling of strangeness at the existence of that woman, he decided to make them meet, although due to recent events, to this day he wonders if it was really a good decision.
Raiden was initially confused, listening to the doctor describe a woman he had met that day, he had to admit that it made him feel a certain curiosity, and still a bit confused since the fact that a woman whom he himself described as similar to what he had seen that day, was curious to meet him even though it was a vile lie after all.
It was strangely comforting to know that she confessed that she did not know him, it was as if for once everything he had believed was a dream seemed to be actually false. That he was actually the owner of his life, that there was no one behind all that world, that everything he had done had been his own decision, and not because anyone had forced him and even the death of all the people he loved seemed to be just things of life and not a plan executed by sadistic people, heartless people who sought to generate suffering in souls that they themselves did not believe were alive.
However, she had lied to him, hiding her truth even when he was threatening, which was at the beginning, and distrustful of who she was. She could still feel her palms sweating and when he asked her several questions from who she was to whether she knew him, and she could feel pressured instead, answers to which she knew, and even knowing that she should not lie, she did; she did not know if it was out of fear, confusion, or because she was still traumatized by knowing that this world was not the same as the one she, throughout her life, lived in.
Several days of interrogations went by, until they eventually insisted that she should return home, but she, not having one, they had to conclude that, perhaps, behind some human trafficking network they had stolen a baby, one that eventually lost its identity, being known only by a name and a surname which was never really registered. They decided to relocate her and give her a new name, a new entity, one that she could be guided by, accompanied also by a place where she could finally give herself a break in this world, and even if that wasn't what she really wanted, since she wanted to return to her world, that was something you couldn't do, since this fact was one in a million, she had to accept her fate. And she accepted it, she gave up and finally, the only thing left for her to do was adapt to this new world.
Raiden thought it was over, he genuinely believed that this woman was telling the truth, that in reality she was just a victim of some group twisted in bad connections. And that everything he had seen that day, all the events that seemed taken from a dark fantasy were only a product of his imagination, one of a mind so tired after so many days without sleep.
But, eventually, he began to have strange dreams. Dreams that he told the doctor and tried to find a solution, both psychologically and technologically, they found that in fact all those dreams were only products of his imagination, and despite their recurrence and the insistence that everything he had experienced was real through dreams, he refused to believe it. He denied it until he couldn't take it anymore, he denied it and denied it. Or at least until eventually he could only limit himself to staying with the only thing that seemed to be part of that reality that he himself had deduced.
From hiring people to supervise her from afar to invading her privacy by controlling her devices, he took it upon himself to try to keep her conscience clear - or at least that was what he whispered to himself - he didn't do it because he thought he was going crazy, he didn't do it because he suspected that she was a damn liar, he did it all because he wanted to remain calm, that in reality everything he had dreamed and everything he believed to be a dream is only and solely that; a disturbed dream.
Then he heard her, one night he didn't want to listen, but he forced himself to do so to try to keep his conscience clear, to end the dreams he heard her whisper She cried and sobbed, grieving over how much it hurt her not to be able to be at home, how much she missed her mother, how much she missed her father, and how much she hates herself for not being honest with Raiden, and she calls him that, she calls him what he longed for her to admit even if she lied to himself that she didn't love him. And she herself seems to remember even Jack's name, repeating it every time she can refer to him, as if she were afraid of him, as if she genuinely thought that any moment Raiden was going to kill her, or Jack, as she called him.
Her nightmares came back to her mind, the memory of that panel came back like lightning, and it didn't disappear from her mind until she finally accepted reality; she really wasn't from that world and everything he had lived turned out to be, in the end, the same reality that she couldn't fully understand, but that she didn't want to continue investigating either.
But his fears, accompanied by his inevitable curiosity, led him to visit her again, led him to corner her in her own house, to demand that she tell him the truth, taking her arms with his hands. And she, sobbing, tried to explain to him why she had lied, tried to tell him that in reality, although she knows Jack's name and knows who he is, she does not know it because she comes from another world, but because she herself had been part of one of the many groups he had once been part of.
But he had already accepted reality, he had already understood that she was only a piece of that world that was real, that she was within everything he had known, the only thing that was genuinely real, was her, something he could touch, something he could feel, something he could hold close, he could feel what it was like to be from a world where everything is bone and skin, and not a program specifically coded to fulfill a function.
She sobbed, begged and suffered from not being able to free herself; she was terrified. And then he kissed her. He didn't let her go, and even if she kept shaking in fear, the kiss didn't stop.
And since that day, he didn't let her go, since that day, her soul is tormented by the fact that he didn't let her back into his life. Even when she begged and said that she never really wanted to hurt him or force him to do something he didn't want, the damage was already done, and his mind was already corrupted by the thought that he had to keep the only real thing in this world by his side; her.
And if this world is to continue in its suffering until its end, then he must cling to the only thing that truly came from a world other than his own, a world where anyone who decides to write a story manipulates other realities at will, thus creating a stage of suffering that repeats itself over and over again. And if he is destined to perform the same action over and over again, even against his will, then he longs to have a piece of reality with him, to have something that he can feel as his own, something that others have not taken from him, or never belonged to him in the first place.
Can I request this Blood moon Zed x male reader. Reader is a sibling of shen's darling and is a singer.
Author's notes: Maybe I could tell that I really liked how I write this one-shot. SO, enjoy it!
"A singer without his dancer It's a lost soul"
Yandere! Blood Moon! Zed x Male! Singer! Reader
I was always a naive person. I was such a naiver that even my own parents denied me a place on stage. I remember that even as a child, I just believed whatever any person told me, like a non-thinker. My own way of seeing the world was different from my parents wishes, and that's why they didn't let me go beyond writing a couple of words.
Maybe it was because of my parents' fear or the memory of my brother's precious friend, that suspicions arose around that small village tormented by entities whose was only seen by victims close to death during the night when the moon is at its highest peak of light that both of my parents decided to never come back to that village after... that episode.
Unfortunately, just like the orders given to me by my parents, I approach that house of my childhood, directing my destiny to the slaughterhouse condemned by darkness, forgotten by all the gods that could protect our poor souls. The firm and fresh wood makes it clear to me that that house had never been completely abandoned by life, bringing back once again memories that I thought were dead in my mind. Yosuke doesn't seem shocked to find this home, knowing that my mind was saturated by the remorse of not seeing his face again.
I knocked twice on the door with such soft knocks that it seemed as if I trembled just thinking about damaging the wood, in a desire that any soul that may be found in that house will give me some clue as to the whereabouts of my lost brother. An elderly lady opens the door, her height so short that I even had to lower my gaze to see her plump figure, a warm smile appears on her wrinkled cheeks due to the sagging of her skin. She gently closes her hazel eyes before greeting me warmly.
Yosuke knew her, and he flutters over her head almost immediately, placing that small body of his on the handkerchief that covered the woman's head, singing his famous way of speaking, causing a small laugh in both her and me. The lady allows me to pass, also allowing me to see clearly the memories of my distant childhood that I thought were buried in my mind. She advises me to sit down, due to the obvious journey of more than a hundred kilometers, however, with the jacket stripped from my body, my face appears before the lights of the wooden house. The memory is still so vivid that it even burns in my chest.
—How many years have passed after the accident?
—Only two years, honey.
Her gaze seemed to twist at my frown, showing that even with the passing of the years, she still felt the same pain as me, we both knew it after all, so why judge her?
—Was there any clue about it?
—I'm sorry, dear, but no —she denied —. Everyone in the village clarifies that they never saw him after that event in which he disappeared.
I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts; all the clues started and ended in this town, and tied directly to that cult, whose location and people involved never came to light in the public eye, thus eliminating any progress my poor investigation could have.
Both mom and dad ignored his disappearance, almost as if his existence being removed from the map was nothing, more likely if his existence doesn't mean anything for both of them. It is then that, out of sheer desperation, I returned to that town; everyone looked at me strangely when I talked about it at the table where even the quietest relatives devoured the most extravagant dishes of each town, and mom's disapproval was never as intense as that night; a look that stuck deep in my soul to this day, tormenting my mind even in the most recurrent nightmares, like a hyena always returning to devour a part of the abandoned corpse.
In my most tormented memories, I find that figure hidden in the shadows of the wooden house, as if my presence disturbed the existence of that entity whose identity was never revealed to me.
The first night in that house I ran into him; his red eyes crossing my sleeping figure in the room I used to rest when the presence of my brother and his best friend became overwhelming, giving my mind a space to breathe after a day of being forced to accompany those two to the place that anyone of them wanted to visit in that moment. Yosuke sang alarmed, thus chasing away his presence, although the reflection of the impalpable glow and imposing eyes managed to shake my entire world if that could be described that way. It's then that the light of the red moon is reflected in the window, giving a not-so-subtle clue of who was the person that decided to torment me during this night.
The next morning I had to go to the nearest town, finding that the few inhabitants of that small place did not seem to trust me, or at least when the garment covered my eyes, since it was too obvious that they would recognize me if I let my guard down and allowed them to see me directly. My physical appearance was so similar to my lost brother that it was easy to confuse us, so much so that more than once I was brought on stage at the moment when it was the dancer who was supposed to leave.
Although my brother had a lively sense of rhythm in his body and soul, following each step with such fluidity that it seemed as if in his crib instead of sheets there were only rhythmic notes that his baby body could read and learn quickly, I was, without a doubt, that voice whose tone never went up or down against my will, accompanying even his dances with an acapella intonation of those songs that he longed to hear in the background.
I tried to forget that memory of his presence, focusing my mind on the thought of searching, and even if my research skills were between ugly and mediocre, that love in my heart was the only motivation necessary to fight against the hopeless situation in which I currently find myself.
It is then that, returning from my desperate search through the village, taking soft and subtle steps through the forest, I find among the darkest leaves the reflection of the pure and raw red of that identity that had stalked me a few nights ago. Yosuke continues singing in desperation, fluttering in front of my eyes in an attempt to stop my step, but neither of us could exert any kind of force to avoid this situation so full of endless danger. I try to speed up my pace, urging Yosuke to follow me, which thing he did, and his song continued to resonate in the forest.
I could hear his footsteps, echoing with the crunch of leaves, damaging the dead remains of the trees with his metal boots, it was noticeable that even the heaviness of his steps was such that I didn't even deign to confront him, fleeing like a coward while Yosuke's chant became more and more constant, intoning his fear, and my steps continued to accelerate, and accelerate, and accelerate, until eventually I was running, with my heart beating on the verge of cardiac arrest, with sweat running down my face, marking a path incapable of making me feel safe.
And, as if he had left in the blink of an eye, his steps stopped, but I didn't realize it until I reached a lake, one I never thought I could find; a table accompanied by some refined wooden chairs accompanied the atmosphere; legends told of a place in this village where spirits meet with others to exchange words for a brief moment, repeating their cycle between one and two months. The sound of fish jumping in the water, generating a splash whose sound resonates in the abandoned place. I always suspected that, if the demons of the blood moon existed, this place should be protected by those victims of the sacrifices made by them, and gossips said that the few selected ones who managed to enter this hidden place did so by the decision of a familiar or close spirit who decided to provide them with a safe space from all danger.
My soul shuddered just of thinking about who could have given me shelter from that evil presence, and soon, my heart seemed to sink in fear. Eventually, I could only desperately make my way to the edge of the lake, with my poor Yosuke perched on top of my head, his tiny paws gently caressing my hair.
—Really —I whispered, my legs pressed against my chest—, it's almost like everything is against me.
My little companion sang softly, lowering himself delicately to my shoulders; that action always meant the same thing, the same action, the same intonation. I almost wanted to apologize for whispering his name once again, as if my heart still had hope in saving his already damned soul from the clutches of inevitable death. Tears fall from my eyes, but I hide my sobs with the whispers of the song that I always repeated because it was my beloved brother's favorite choreography.
This feeling of guilt was going to eat away at my heart until it decided to stop, and it isn't until desperate footsteps are heard from the distance of the forest, covering my ears completely, as if I were unable to focus on anything else.
A human body, with small cuts in his clothes and purple marks on his neck and scratches on his body not covered by torn clothes peeks out from between the trees. His desperate sighs and lost gaze finally meet mine, his body —which despite looking muscularly developed, seems to have lost its consistency— tenses, and a scream escapes his lips.
—Why are you in this place?! —He peeked even further out of the trees, finally stepping on the green grass —. Don't tell me your brother finally decided to give you a place at our beloved table —He complained, taking forceful steps to get closer to me —. If that's so, I'm sorry, boy.
And a creature lunges at his posture, attacking with all its weight like a bull against a daring human, its dark form shows itself, its cloak of blades surrounds the form of the man in front of me, and its red tones both in its clothes and its mask highlighted the obvious; it was a demon.
—You fucking bastard —He whispered, before trying to struggle against the demon, however his arms were reduced in seconds by the inhuman strength of that reddish entity —, I already thought you were taking too long.
—What is this..? —I whispered, trying to get up from the ground.
But I found my body immovable due to what was expected, but that I, naive, did not notice; the darkness like a shadow surrounds my arms, crossing my gaze because it surrounded my abdomen with total calm and softness, like a child taking a puppy in his hands.
—Ah, so you got one who is a friend of this bastard. —The man assured, annoyed as he seemed to give in to the demon's grip.
I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me again, which only meant that he was the cause of all this fear and control.
—N-No, t-this shouldn't be…
The shadow was almost immediately replaced by the presence of a touchable body, made of flesh and skin, his hands over me being gentle but inhumanly powerful over me. His breath against my neck, his grip on my abdomen and his gaze were just a sign that this moment was nothing more than the beginning of the most torturous nightmare I could have ever hoped for.
—Thank you —That demon whispered, I assumed, out of sheer obviousness, that he was thanking the demon in front of us.
But, little did I know that it was not him I was really grateful to, but rather a fifth presence that was not visible to me, perhaps because it would do me irreparable harm to know who was really hidden in the shadows of this small place that, by trusting other people's words, ended up making me fall into the worst of rabbit holes.
hello can i request a yandere oguma frim beastars^^
Author's note: I writted this one-shot two times bcs the first time I HATE how I did it soooooooo here we go.
Little lion in Rebellion
Yandere! Oguma x Lion! Reader
I already lost the count of the days, the nights and obviouly the endless hours I spend in this room. Like a circus freak, waiting for an end to all the misery imposed by the pain, praying to the deities hidden among the shadows of the nights and the rays of the sun for an end to this miserable story with me, a predator locked inside a golden jail.
Originality, that phrase was talking about an animal locked in a golden jail always was a weak animal; a bird or a rodent or even an insect, but those trapped predators are twice as miserable as any tiny and weak creature could, if it so desired, dream of.
Someone like me, with the right jaw to tear open meat, and claws always sharpened by the nature of my blood finds that even their most pathetic attempts at fighting are useless before the grip of that herbivore, of that man whose blunt fingers and perfectly and coherently organized teeth seem to manipulate my figure as if it were a puppet. For many days, even Louis had more empathy for me than Oguma would ever feel for any sentient being that is not an equal to his biology.
The soft hands that I once felt proud of were now bruised, damaged and scarred without even a bandage on, all being a tiny bit of the cruelty behind that fucking deer, and in this dark, impenetrable room, even by the most specialized forces could find a house always under surveillance since the day Oguma preferred to start a suffering with a vile and sadistic end that not even the worst murderers could think of giving even to their most suffering victim was just a little playdate in comparation of what he did to me.
I had and will have the misfortune of having been born within these bars decorated with gold, accommodated in a claustrophobic and invasive environment for my nature free of chains. Even with the great misfortunes of others, even the poorest enjoy the freedom to touch the grass with their fingers, unlike me, a creature treated like a wild beast from the first day. Oh, if my ancestors saw this situation, they would be rejoicing in their already graceful graves.
The pain in my chest is present again, feeling like a torture from ancient times, just waking up on the same pillow every day of my life.
The lights were still on; apparently their presence had vanished at the sight of me sleeping so peacefully in such a limited space, and even his damn footsteps seem invisible to my bruised and damaged ears.
—Did you sleep well? —His voice resonated in my ears, echoing in the room without any natural light.
I couldn’t answer; his chair seems too comfortable outside the cage, and my entire backside begs for a soft bed to lie down on after so many nights without a good rest.
—I asked you a question. —he hissed, before one of his hands gripped the metal.
I refused to answer, just kneading the uncomfortable, lumpy pillow in a rough attempt to stretch my muscles, like a jaguar cub learning to use its claws.
—Idiot —he whispered. —, aren’t you going to answer me?
My head fell back against the little space left on the red pillow decorated with gold linen. Even the smell of fresh blood coming from his fine clothes seems to try to be a means of temptation for my hungry stomach, already abandoned by dad’s home-cooked food years ago.
—Damn predators —he panted, angrily —, all of your are the same —he took my tail in his hands —, stubborn, insufferable, and proud of all of your good things, proud of your fucking jaws, your teeth, your claws ready to tear skin like butter.
The pull I received was such that even my head jumped off the small velvet mattress. The sharp pain that runs through my backside to my hips is such that even the mere act of moving made it more and more painful.
—But it's not that hard to keep them flush —He pulled again, gripping his fingers into the fur and flesh of my tail—, is it, little lioness?
Small tears escaped from my eyes and ran down my cheeks at his aggressive tugs. The constancy of the pain was inevitably sharp and extremely unbearable.
—Now, answer me properly —He let go of my tail, returning to his initial position.
For the few seconds I remained clinging to myself, my tail twisted over my body, the marks of his fingers remaining impregnated in my fur like wood marked by varnish.
—So?
I couldn’t even whisper a moan as fear invaded me again, just like the first day I was locked in this hole of pain, just like every day of this miserable life.
My face peeked out between the golden bars, my tail tangling in my changed position; sitting on the edge of the cushion, bringing all my weight to the place where I was in the opposite location to his.
—Are you really going to make me go there?—He whined.
His footsteps echoed in the empty room, silencing my constant gasps from the pain lying in my body, small tears welling up on my face.
—Speak —He said —, now.
The sweet caress on the fur that outlines my ear is such that even my own body forgets that mistreatment foreign to my temperamental behavior, like a sedative whose action is immediate in every sense of the word. His bent posture to take that part so delicate for me was almost glorious and pious in the eyes of any family that has caused me so much pain.
—If you don't, you know it will only end worse.
With the purpose of a whim to be fulfilled, I made him release my ear by moving my body, before my eyes looked at him again. His eyes still show that coldness whose emotional emptiness is almost inexhaustible, as if all the pity that any creature can show for others was taken away from him at a young age as a method of punishment.
His hand is still extended, his posture and even the smell are still the same as the moment I remembered the monster in front of me, whose evilness crossed all the limits imposed in a society in constant internal struggle and inexhaustible passive aggressiveness, and one last time, just like every time, I decided to stop being miserable, quiet and lonely, before approaching his thin fingers, with trimmed nails and his fine palm with the fur in a harmoniously contained order, a reflection of his constant personal hygiene.
—On what day, or what week, or what fucking year, will you stop being so miserable? —I forced myself to ask—. And yeah, I know you will not answer me right now, so, allow me to answer you in the way I always longed for, dear herbivore.
With the same speed with which Mom instilled in me, my hands wrapped around his, my nails trimmed to the veins still containing dried blood, my dried blood, and I, in an attempt to return all the treatment received, surrounded his hand with my extended lips, and finally, my teeth closed, but just as the miseries continued to increase their level of gravity, I find myself with his same cold gaze, with his same cynicism hidden behind the eyes of a wealthy father incapable of conceiving a child into the world.
—Ah, I already guessed that you would do that —He whispered—. I'm surprised that you didn't notice why you only ate minced meat.
I immediately pulled his hand out of my mouth, and seeing the hand with only residue of spit on the fur, and in that moment, I fully understood how far he was willing to go.
—But I guess you're still the same as the first time you woke up here.
With that, he stood up, walking away from the same cage again.
—YOU FUCKING BASTARD! —I managed to shout.
But he ignored me, like he always did, and like he always will every time he has the damn chance to do the same damage to me, just like when he brought those heads in front of my cage, letting them rot slowly while only my uncontrolled crying could be heard in the room, giving me pain, giving me the same feeling of filth that always happens in all those moments where only my own pillow accompanies me through the pain and misfortune of being a caged circus lion for a single master and a single spectator of all the tricks I was always forced to perform.
"I've got a diary, just to take notes of how much I love you, what if anybody finds it? It's just a proof of my love"
November 25, year not specified
《At 8:35 p.m. Michael Smith reported an emergency call of a kidnapping and gender violence in a house on the outskirts of the city. Upon searching the home provided by the woman who called, we found two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, etc. The apartment appeared to have at least two padlocks on a door, from which screams were heard from the other side. Upon forcing the door, we found that there was a person on the floor ---Recognized as (Name) (Last Name)---, a notable state of malnutrition and dehydration, with bite marks running from the beginning of his jaw to the collarbones of his chest with a noticeable smell of stench ---The victim soon commented on the estimated time in which they was denied a bath---, the police station has confiscated the house of the accused in question, removing both clothing, belongings, jewelry and household appliances belonging to (Name). The commissioner in charge (Name redacted) located a diary belonging to the accused in question. Any information removed from this report will be presented to the jury during the trial for the crimes committed by the defendant whose whereabouts are unknown.》
"September 25th, first day.
First day of the report of my existence, life, interests, expected future, and love for (Name).
We will divide this diary into different parts ---I estimate a total of 7---
Everything that will be found within this diary is the authorship of (Name crossed out).
You turn the page, finding the title of "Introduction"
<<(Name) (Last name) is a young person of (Age erased) who is currently in they university studies. They was seen a couple of weeks ago due to an unexpected encounter between the two of us.
(Name) is the same age as me, I assume they is a little more selfless than other people. I found that, just as I expected, they shows no interest in having a partner ---yay---.
This person has achieved a transcendental feat; they managed to make me fall in love. It is ironic to believe that someone like me could become a lovesick, but that is the case, and the world has decided to protect my love with my great intelligence.
Next, all the instructions, reports and data necessary for the capture and containment of (Name) will follow.>>
You turn the next page, which is a colorful one, full of highlighters of different colors and tones.
<<Family.
(Name) has a father and a mother, I do not know the whereabouts of possible or existing brothers or sisters. There is no trace of aunts or uncles, only of a grandmother of whom there is no information of any kind. Not even an address, only a mention in a night conversation he had with they mother>>
Another page
<<Friends.
(Name) has friends, I can't tell if they are many, too many, or the amount of people who approach her per day is inhuman (it must be because I'm not used to so many people so close to someone).
In particular, they has two people who are always close; (Name crossed out) and (Name crossed out), both of them being of the same sex.
I can't describe with my own words how much I hate (Name crossed out), but always, ALWAYS too close to them, now they looks at me as if I were a weirdo, and even (Name) came to see me strangely just because of something (Name crossed out) has said.>>
《NOTE: Now that I don't see them as often, I think it was exaggerated to hate them so much》
Another page
<<Likes.
(Investigators have decided to erase most of the key data written in this part of the diary, any visible data is related to theft, harassment and invasion of private property by the accused)
(Name) really likes ice cream, especially (Irrelevant data) ice cream, I bought a lot to be prepared for ---that day---.
(Data erased)
They loves jackets, they loves to wear them in winter, especially the light blue color ---It fills with the smell of lavender, it smells pretty good---. They also has a favorite shirt, I don't understand why they loves it so much, but they sobbed when couldn't find it in their closet ---I had to lament for several minutes after hearing their crying through the walls---.
(Data erased.)
Another page
<<Expected future.
A house, maybe in the middle of nowhere, with several children/pets running around the woods. (Name) with a (Data deleted), would look so cute with a sweet smile while holding one of our children in his hands, (data deleted).
Another page, now looking more damaged, full of traces of lines without a beginning or an end, going around in circles
<<General reports
First week
(Name) loves seeing animals on the streets, she usually takes them in her hands and pampers them, it is unhealthy, but she looks sweet, and it is noticeable that it is only a hint of what she really is.
Second week
A boy declared himself to her.
I don't understand why he smiled.
It hurts, it hurts to think about the wrong thing.
Why would she go out with someone like him?
(Part of the lost diary, the sheet of paper
(It's broken)
Third week
I hate them,
I hate them,
I hate them,
Why is they kissing them?
Why is they touching them?
Why isn't it me?
Fourth week
I have a plan for this, don't worry, I can fix this, I can take down that jerk, I can get you safe.
Fifth week
Oh, I couldn't even put in a fourth week, I've been too busy, you know? It's hard to stay calm when, I don't know, you're planning a fucking murder.
I kick a lot, I think even more than I expected. But he was an idiot, so I'm not surprised he tried to scream to save himself---acting like that would save him---.
Sixth week
Don't cry, baby, don't cry, I'm here, I love you, I'm all you need.
(The rest of the weeks were burned, as was the back cover of the newspaper.)
《The victim is currently in recovery, the tremors and mental consequences that come with being held with the fleeing criminal appear to be permanent, psychological analysis currently shows no good future for (Name)》
"I just need a weapon to keep you by my side, my sweetheart"
You were running.
Speciffically, running away from someone.
That was all you needed to know.
Your feet could barely move normally and slowly after running for so long, and your legs suffered from an incomprehensible pain while only your labored breathing was audible in the middle of the trees surrounding your vision. You tried to contain your crying until your body collapsed from so many oppressed tears, but it was inevitable to feel your tears caressing your cheeks at the same time as your clothes were torn by branches, leaving a visible trail for your captor.
---Stop running!
That scream managed to make your skin crawl like you had never felt before, and your own body suffered from tremors while the only thing you were able to do was the same; keep running, running, running, and running. You couldn't help but feel that everything was wrong, that you were doomed to end up dead in this meadow covered by abundant nature, far from your family, far from mom, far from dad, far from everyone, this being, this psychopath, this cause of so much suffering towards you, being your only company.
Step after step, branch after broken branch, tree after tree passed, without any hope of escaping you find your way out of the Forest even with so many paths made in the middle of your life you couldn't find a way out there was no way out.
The screams chorused along with the sound of the leaves slowly dying with each step of both you and your pursuer accompanied the environment in a horrible symphony.
A single mistake and everything was over, a badly positioned foot and your fall would be called your condemnation to the desolate hell, thus losing the only opportunity you could have to reach the classroom, similar to a prisoner behind bars, suffering the consequences of his own actions.
At that moment, one of the many scratches cruelly damages one of your legs, tearing the skin of the left calf as quickly as it was effective, thus achieving an almost immediate effect of pain. But even if it were described like that, the pain was impossible to escape from.
The cry of going that is heard in the distance from your location seems like Tuesday even more so, reaching the point where even your own walk becomes a torture. But even so, you continued walking, spreading out from that person, now hiding your small body behind the trees in a desperate attempt to distract your actor, deceiving him as he always deceived you.
---Honey! Where are you? ---They called you again, a cry that numbs your soul, extinguishing your hope.
Your back stuck to one of the trees, using the bark to cover your body, and covering your mouth with your hands, you came to assume that you could escape just by hiding your own presence.
Step after step over the leaves and the dense grass where the bugs hid, inhalation after inhalation, their noises faded away, and it seemed like hope was returning to you. Your hands slowly moved away from your face, a grimace of happiness appearing between your cheeks. And the edge of a knife passed over your neck, quickly, gently resting its cold edge against your skin.
---My love.
Their tone of voice alone was rough and cold, different from how he normally sounded.
---My dear, my darling… ---They whispered. ---, what are you doing?
The cry chokes in your throat as the edge seems to penetrate your skin but without even cutting, with a pressure similar to a butcher on the verge of slaughtering the meat.
---Talk to me, love ---They begged ---, why are you running away?
A drop escapes from one of your eyes, as you refused to see more, only limiting your vision to nothingness itself.
---Speak.
Your own heart exploded inside your chest, crashing against your ribs with a painful and resonant pumping in your body, moving your entire being as if it were a rag doll.
Their demands for your voice by the second become louder and louder, more aggressive, more threatening.
---Why would you leave me? ---They began, the blade grazing the skin of your neck ---, after everything I did for you, all the blood I spilled, everything we represent in this world ---They whispered, now progressively exerting pressure on the handle of the weapon ---, you are everything to me, if you leave, what will I be?
A warm and decreasing thread of blood slowly descended your neck, guided by a light drop that barely stopped when it reached your clothes.
---I'm nothing, I'll be nothing if you leave, you can't leave me if you mean so much to me ---Trembling, their face came closer to yours. ---, you can't leave my life, and I won't let you go, not if I can forbid it.
The cut didn't finish being executed, since the blade was quickly withdrawn, and soon a blow was placed right on your neck, thus achieving immediate pain, and in turn, fainting.
---I'm sorry for having hurt you, darling.
The little you remember after that, it was waking up, looking around, and see that you were in the same room again, but only having bandages around your neck, pressing the open wound, and a couple more chains surrounding your ankle and wrists.
"If the only way you will love is by making you crazy, then i'm gonna do it, darling"
There are traces of spit in the kitchen.
I never knew how to explain to my friends, or rather how to make people understand that I have never left spit in my house or in anyone's house, and I even doubted rats were capable of leaving such levels of that shit on the table, on the furniture, on the kitchen, or anywhere in the house. It was extremely stressful to explain to people that I found it inhumane to live in such depraved conditions.
It seemed so disgusting to me that more than once I hesitated to buy a gun, a camera, something to help me and my anger always increased when I stepped on it or touched it by accident.
It was so disgusting that I did not last even a month living with those levels of unknown saliva in my house. I thought about moving out of the house, and a few weeks later, I did it. For the first time in three years this person ---or whoever it is--- had managed to do what I never thought was possible; Took me out of my comfort zone, took me out of MY house to sent me to any place in the world, and for the sole reason that there was always spit in the kitchen, and I find so annoying to always find that horrible liquid in my food, in my forgotten breads or in my juice jugs ---and without going any further my bottle of water---, or even the tiny remains that I left on the table during the nights that I snacked on something or simply forgot to put it away properly.
But even in the new house, a few hours after arriving, where I realized that I had even more space than I ever had in my old apartment, or in my life in general, I always find the same traces of dirty and smelly spit on my bread; traces of slime on my table; traces of spit on my clothes; traces of spit on my furniture; any place that is part of my house in general since more than once I have had the misfortune of finding that viscous liquid.
I usually wouldn't complain if it were small remains, if it were a little more tiny, even if I could identify the causer of this the rats or any other rodent that decided to invade my home. But it bothers me even more to know that it was a person, or that it was some stranger who is obsessed with breaking into my house, eating my food and leaving as if nothing mattered, as if this were his house and not mine, not that of a poor man who only wants to stay on his feet in such a disastrous economy.
I started putting out rat traps, I also used that glue trap that my mom used to cockroaches invasor or I even bought different sprays to keep them at bay, but after a while the traps kept staying in the same place, unused; as if they were a modest decoration, just any one. And more than once I found them organized in different places; As if that person or strange entity was mocking all the effort I had made, all the money I spent to try to cope with this complicated situation, each and every one of my efforts.
I knew at that moment that I was doomed, doomed to live in this miserable house always full of other people's drool, doomed to have some kind of monster stalking me or a very mentally ill human who only wants to delight in my suffering, that is because anyone who knows me would know how difficult it is for me to deal with the issue of wasted food, or even worse; dirty places.
I was ---without a doubt--- an idiot who did not know how to organize or put things away after using or buying them, but I have never committed such a sin of not putting the ingredients away properly inside each bag ---although the only exception to this is nighttime meals---. No! My mother didn't raise me with so much effort to teach me the minimum basic notion about life, so that this stranger comes along and wants to change everything, leaving his disgusting drool behind.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, one day I woke up with that viscous liquid on my neck; it wasn't a droplet, or a mark that was dry, but it was accompanied by an unevenness in my skin; I was bitten, and the same traces of saliva were enough proof to know that, indeed, this person or entity seems to know perfectly well what they are doing to me.
I can't stop shaking; I drag my fingers along the already wounded skin, with a certain burning sensation escaping from my neck with each caress from my fingers, whose trace seems to always start and stop in the same place. I still don't understand what to do.
I feel my own words stuck deep in my throat, drowned, tied by the thread of fear, which so possesses my body, and which leaves so much horror on my skin.
But soon I had to go back to work, and the questions were accompanied by a mischievous look, passive jokes that caused a laugh or two among my colleagues, and a feeling of loneliness that embitters my heart.
I press each key of the keyboard with the same ease that it feels, but I can feel my mind going on.
Immersed in this field of terror, full of desolation, and with subtle clues that I refuse to even see or feel under my bare feet. The caresses of the grass have the opposite effect on my mind, and at the same time that I could feel dead in life, my head leaned subtly forward, trying to find a space to continue writing, to finish the report of the day.
And I fall, I fall against the keyboard, I fall into my imagination again. The light was conspicuous by its absence, and the darkness ruins my notion of time. Seconds passed into minutes, and minutes into hours, but I still saw everything completely dark, leaving in front of me only an almost permanent blindness. But my body, even if I am sunk in an imagination corrupted by the constant nightmare of the beast lurking behind the walls, is awake. It was contradictory, but I could understand that thanks to my constant alert to an unwanted attack from that stranger, my own body decided to stay awake, even if my mind was rested.
But it was useless to understand why I could feel everything around me; even if it was the gentle touches on my head from a companion or the feeling of wood against my legs, there was only one feeling that reminded me why this life was hell.
A hot air landed on my light blue shirt, being so heavy that my own body hair stood on end, and at the same time the feeling of my skin and clothes receiving that wind that moved my little beauty and garment was so constant that only that was going to be able to wake me up. Although that would be in a normal situation, and this was not a normal situation.
Soon the hot wind became even heavier, increasing its temperature level in a matter of seconds, going from what resembled a slow and soft inhalation and exhalation to heavy sighs, accompanied by a noise similar to that made by a canine when it's keeping its mouth open. And I felt it; first it was a small drop, then another, followed by a journey of both along the contour of my shirt, generating traces of drops on my clothes. And soon, his breathing felt heavier, closer, and his saliva fell more frequently, now leaving traces indefinitely visible to anyone's eyes.
And they lips collided with my neck, I knew it by the tiny 《muak》 that was deposited on my skin, right on the occipital triangle, and soon it was another, now on the collarbone, and another, and another, and another.
I painstakingly tried to move my body, but the space around my own muscle mass seemed oppressed, forced to stay in the same place, and its mobility was practically impossible. I wouldn't even have the strength to sob, since even the surface of my face was paralyzed.
Everything stopped, their breathing, which seemed more irregular with each unwanted contact, now moved away from me, slowly and surely. I celebrated internally, thinking that, at least for today, I had been saved from this kind of entity trying to somehow taste my skin, as if I were its victim, its prey.
And then, they bit me.
It was sudden, it was painful, and it was a long period of time in which they decided to cling to my skin. They teeth, selectively, clenched and released for several seconds, but without ever letting go of my skin. My own screams, now locked deep in my chest, do not express the discomfort I feel as my muscles were compressed in the same way, and the feeling of mental ambiguity seemed to be stronger, my body had accepted this horrendous fate; to suffer the strong and marked bites of an entity whose name I do not even know.
And I woke up.
A girl had woken me up, and seeing my eyes half open, a nervous grimace formed on her cheekbones, and as she moved her blond hair with the help of her fingers, a small whisper escaped from her lips.
---We have to go, unless you want to make overtime again.
It was a barely audible whisper, and I soon realized that I had indeed fallen asleep at work.
She left, and I was left in that office, still shaking; my legs could barely stand on their own, and my arms tried to find balance with the help of the furniture.
It is not until I notice a previously unknown level of moisture on my neck that I can touch that viscous liquid between my fingers again.
Characters that could be used in this story:
League Of Legends:
-Fiddlesticks.
-Nocturne(?
-Evelynn.
I honestly don't know anymore more, bc this looks like a medium- horror story(??? maybe I was reading too much Lovecraft.
I buried all that I had. I used to be someone, I used to have a life, people, someone who actually cares of me. Even If was a minimum of love, I was satisfied with that. But now, I have nothing.
I don't understand where I go, or even where I were in the first place, and, in fact, im not scared by that, i was scared by something else. A answer to my fears, A answer for everything I once had fear of, for everything I knowed will come back to take me. But, even with just tracks of the answer, I learned that It was nearly close, and that causes me more fear, but... It was in front of my eyes, It was obvious what is the answer to that, or actually, who is the answer to that.
You get out the worst part of me, from the first moment our eyes looked into each other edge, I just should have walked away, that you were someone who gonna changes everything in me, in the most deliberate and slow, tortuous ways possible. But now, that was the past, and the past Is never gonna come back to give me another chance. But, even if I don't get a chance, I know a little thing.
I'm in the most ambigous nothing right now, and I know that even If you or someone else try to discover why I'm acting in this way, you or that someone else gonna find nothing, just a little, little, nothing, but you, of course.
And now, here we are, inside four walls with nothing more than you and me, in the middle of nothing, one nothing so special that I would kill again for having it all the time. And even If sometimes I call It an inferno in live, I know that it's not true, that I'm right for doing this, I'm right for everything I done.
More than one time I tried to forget you or let you go, but I know Is impossible, and even If I tried to do It just to have a little peace with my moral, I know that, in the evening or in the morning after, I will get you back, I will chase you untill you were in my arms again.
But, in this destiny, I know Is something wrong, or at least, something that makes me think a lot; All the corpses, all the blood or all the injuries that have in they skin, were just the beginning, that you, of all the corpses, were the most glorius trophy that I could ever had, and even Is that glorius to me that make me think I divine, Is inhuman, it's a trap of any god or force out of my imagination that wants to take you as the lure of my trap.
While I sat at the living room, I tried to remember when was the first time and when was the last time that I must have thought you were in my arms, that you were mine. Even If It was at the cost of your suffering, of your pain, of you forced to live with me beneath this fourth walls, but even in the end of the day, I learned ---or remembered--- my life will never gonna be normal again, and even If I tried to save our fairy tales relationship, I know now it's just a cheap copy of what once was, more likely if it was a show made by kids.
Im broken, Im so so broken that even If you had all the pieces and all the clue In the world, I know you will never got me back. And I know It from the first time I didn't felt safe in your arms, I didn't felt you love me back. And when I suffer from you leaving me and leaving all of the things one were part of your life, I felt it like a joke, I felt it like a derision to all my effort, to my pain, to my hands stained with someone else's blood. And maybe the angry feeling make me hurt, not you, of course, but everyone, every other person one was just an innocent walking was now a victim of my anger.
But what else will I do? I couldn't hurt you like that, I'm so coward to just touch a hair to you, but I'm so afflicted by your action that makes me hurt other people, and I know this is the only way to reduce the load of stress on my back, to use the violenve again, to be a monster, one that I signed to myself to never be again, just because I had you, I belonged you.
And now Im thinking If even with all the pain in the world and all of my insides burning me so slowly for the regret, for the pain, for the everything, for the knowing I'll never come back to once I was. But the only thing that makes me feel safe, is saying I love you, I love you, and I'll still love you, like if my life depend of it.
In this time, I'll just justify my actions by you, your presence, your smile, your warm, your everything makes me felt like It was a justification to every corpse under me, to every drop of blood in my clothes. But I don't want to blame you, I know you don't have any fault in this, you don't deserve to have someone like me to cause you all of this, I know I'm a sinner, I'm the cause of everything, but, at the same time, even If I had the fault of hurting people, even If I had the fault for making you cry or even felt fault, I am not capable of blaming me for falling in love with you. Maybe I'm a sinner for making other people hurt or lose they only life, but I'm not a sinner for feeling that I must had to protect you, I must had to having you between this walls, in my arms, belonging to me. And If I'm a demon or a awful person, or I need to do the worst things in this world just to have you in my arms, I know I will do it, I will be the most cruel and desesperate for love sinners of all.
And even if I am called the greatest sin in all of history, I will be happy, I will be so happy that I could not stop smiling in every photo in case they take this case as a record, because I would know that everything would have been worth it, that all my efforts were rewarded by your mere presence, and all the blood I shed would be called the pennies that were worth paying the price of a hug, a kiss, or a whole life by your side.
I may have paid the bill with someone else's money, but I do not have regret. I am and will be a thief, and I will be a sinner, but I will be yours, I will be your property, and you will be mine. I will be the sinner but you will be the reward of every effort and you will be the empirical reason why I, the sinner, decided to betray everything we call human moral, or human.
"Even a dream is capable of make me know how much I love you"
I get up.
I always get up, but after that, i think, i think a lot, i think so much that my own mind is tired of all my thinking.
But, in this big space, there's something, outside all of the biology in the books o in the society in general, that i define like a Leech, a Leech that is clinged in my mind, using it's theet to take away all of my memories, all of the people, my achievements, my mistakes, all of them, just leaving one thing, one memory, the figure, the voice, everything... And it's you, you, you and only you.
And, also, i dream, mainly, about you. The night before i dreamed i haved you in my arms, both of us in a bed, clinging into each other, covered in a silk sheet, and in that dream, i felt my mind get a rest of everything, all of my thinking, all of my worries, all of my plans, minimizing all of my pain like it never existed, and just left the both of us, both, in that silk sheet, our silk sheet.
But then, two questions appear in my mind, why do I felt like everything just fades away? Why everyone just left my side, but you stay? I don't understand, and, mostly, i have fear, a lot of fear thinking about how progressively and irreversible line of thoughs just disappear in the void, in my head, leaving just a part of nothing.
And I still getting up, and every fucking day is most disappointing that the before. Most of the days I want to swallow sleeping pills, just to be capable of taking you in my arms one more time. But the little of my sanity remains tell me that is just too fucking pathetic do that thing, telling me that I can't be that desesperate just for a fantasy, a fantasy that I am able to bring to reality if I try hard enough.
But i can't just not waking up, and just for open my eyes, for feeling the sun irrumping all of my fantasies make me feel so miserable that I just can do one thing, again and again and again; think about you.
The best of my days were when I see you; every comment give me so mucho happyness to my days that just reaffirms the same feeling that I have every day; I need you in my life, I need you here, with me, and you have me here, with you. A kiss, a hug or anything, just give me something of you.
But, all of the good things had and end, and the end of all my happiness appear in the form of that man. I see him, bringing its unpleasant presence to us, but especially, to you, talking like everything in him is good, like if everything is actually good. And I felt that hate appear in my mind like always I see him, ah, that beautiful and inevitable feeling.
That feeling is the unique feature is the first and only thing that triggers me about you; Im just too selfish to accept that anybody could talk to you, taking you, hug you, or anything. But at the same time, Im too shy to told you how much I love you, and in the previous moment of you giving me a kiss with that sweetness of yours, and telling me how much do you actually love me, just to finally reaffirm, that I I fulfilled my mission. v
And his laugh invades my ears again, with his comments ---The same you pretend to laugh in order to keep afloat a friendship that it's not that worth it--- that are just too fucking boring, make me felt tired, and even if I try to even deny it, it's because he's invading you, your space, with his touch, with his presence. And no, there's no form in this world or universe to make me not hate him, even if you fade away from his life, I will stay hating on him.
But no, you have to pretend that everything is okay, even if he's touching you, taking you, kissing you, I know who you are, I know what you do, I know that you are just pretending. And by a pair of streets, I had the feeling of hate in the bottom of my heart, trying to take all of my feelings and suppressing them until everything is over. And then I have the question, and I know that you have the answer, what the fuck are you doing? And Why are you doing it?
I can't just implore to you to stop, and I know that doing that just gonna spoil everything, and even with all of the pain in my heart, I know that I had to wait, to wait for you, to wait for your action.
Both of you enter the building, and start walking to the elevator, and one more time, that felt of hate just make me felt worst, making me think that... I just need to kill him. Even with every step I climbed, that thought was only stronger and stronger, making my hands shake, trying to supress all of my feelings in my arms, so tense that they seemed on the verge of breaking. And soon, i arrived to the floor that you were, trying to open the door with enthusiasm. With his hand in your hip, in your body.
Everything in my mind starts to overthrow, and when you opened the door of that room, I just could think about... how my own world start to collapse. Piece by piece, everything goes, leaving nothing, and eventually, There's nothing, just you, you and the hand of him in your body, a smile in your face while you open that door, ready to getting with this man, with this garbage, ready to ruin all of my efforts and mistakes to having you in my arms.
Both of you get into the room, the door barely supported in the frame, just to make all of the people know that both of you were in that room. The laughs mixed with heavy sighs make a symphony of the end of the world, the end of my world. I could barely walk, I barely reached the door, and I barely heard his mundane and rude whispers against your skin, only one reaction was possible in me: burst inside.
That leech finally had sucked all the sanity I had left out of me, all of them, there's nobody, there's no you, there's no love, there's no "us", there's just hate, in the form of that man, in that person with the playful smile, and with his awful comments going out of that fucking mouth.
And in a matter of seconds, the entire atmosphere twisted around, just leaving a body beneath me, with his blood in my hands, and his disfigured face crashing against the skin of my knuckles. I am not even capable of hear your screams, I couldn't even focus on your reaction to this wrong action, because, finally, my anger had overcome my love for you, and there was nothing left but sharp blows against a face contorted in agony.
I don't even remember how much time has passed until I stopped, but I remember that I stopped, I remember so well how he took his last breaths and moans, and I remember how he left this world, with his eyes swollen from the tears that mixed with the blood on the ground, with his attempts at breathing so irregular that it seemed like his lungs were beginning to fail, and how his eyes, filled with a fear so characteristic of someone about to die, turned a dead white.
And that memory stuck so firmly in my mind that it often resembled the trauma of failure, the mistake I had made solely and exclusively out of uncontrolled hatred, like if I was a dog releasing stress on a toy.
I couldn't come back, I couldn't even try to get me back of this moment, to get back that part of me that was previously only consumed by love, by my love for you, by all of you.
But I had to look up, and I did it; only to be met with a meeting of your lips against mine so soft yet so desperate, that my heart began to beat again, not from hatred for someone ---not for their previous death, but for their mere existence in your life--- but for you, for you and nothing but you.
And then, I wake up again.
His screams were heared in the middle of the place, echoing off the grey, old walls like an ambient noise, an annoying and unbearable one. I was upset for obvious reasons, and mainly, he was so peaceful when he slept in his chair, wrapped tenderly in ropes, that I thought about leaving him like that forever! Asleep, rested, and unable to resist my request, as kind as it was to get him out of your life.
But no, obviusly no, of course that an idiot will always be an idiot, and especially someone who was stupid enough to allow himself to be taken from his bed to any other place without any preventive measures against it.
But, as I learned so well from life, I knew I had made a mistake, not as serious as allowing you to see what I really am of course, but a mistake in any way. A mistake I swore I would never repeat again.
And that mistake was simple; fantasizing about having you when I could make a kiss of yours in mines come true if only I stopped letting myself be carried away by dreams that eat away at pieces of my sanity. Those eaten away pieces could be saved if only I stopped sleeping, stopped dreaming about you, only and exclusively to make each and every one of my thoughts I ever had about you come true, you and your existence, you and your feelings, you and only you.
