Hi hiii !! I'm reikan (rei for short). My blog will mostly feature yandere ocs x male reader with occasional gn readers (i don't do female readers). I write almost anything so some of my works might contain dead dove content, make sure to always read the warnings before the start of each fics.
i do take requests, although it isn’t guaranteed that i’ll be able to write all of them. do consider sliding into my asks either way since i love reading fic ideas!
TAGS:
#𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗸𝗮𝗻 𖤐 - for all fics | #𝗿𝗲𝗶-𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀 𖤐 - for anon asks and author questions | #𖤐 - for random author thoughts
Reciprocated. | Yandere! Loser x Yandere! Male Reader
! MDNI !
Request
Pairing : Yandere! Unpopular Admirer OC x Yandere! Popular Male Reader
Content Warning/s : general yandere behaviour, stealing of undergarments, jerking off in said stolen garment, stalking, unhealthy obsession
Author's Note : I'll make a part 2 for the smut chapter of this fic another time. enjoy reading !
request/asks
The natatorium was filled with loud, sweaty college students from different departments cheering for their respective representatives; not a place you’d find someone like Louis in. The bright lights made his head throb, and the constant forced contact with strangers made him want to scratch at his own skin.
But he endured all of that for now. For you.
It was always worth it if it meant being present in all of your competitions.
Still, it was never enough. He found himself craving more than having to watch you from the sidelines, tucked behind rows of bodies.
He needed to be closer.
That night, Louis sat at his desk and opened his student portal, the screen casting a pale light across his hands. His schedule was clean and practical, already arranged to his liking.
Louis stared at it until his eyes burned, unblinking.
Then, as if his hands suddenly moved on their own, he changed it. One elective class, shifted.
He woke up early the next day, arriving at the class you two now shared before anyone else.
It wasn’t hard to tell where your seat was. It was practically collecting dust with how frequent its owner’s absence was. Since you were one of your team’s star players, you were almost always excused from your classes.
The chair beside it creaked softly under his weight. Now all he needed to do was wait.
Louis waited.
One day became two. Two days became weeks.
And still, the seat stayed empty.
“Swim star ditching class again for practice?” He’d hear some of your classmates crack jokes about your absence.
“Nothing new.”
It should have disappointed him—should have frustrated him that the main reason for his transfer wasn’t around. Instead, Louis felt relieved.
At least you weren’t around to see him staring at the empty seat with hearts in his eyes. Knowing that it was something that somewhat belonged to you, he couldn’t help but feel closer to you even with the lack of your actual presence.
It soothed him in a way.
When class was over and no one was around to bear witness, he would switch to your seat, running his fingers through the dusty surface. Leaving his mark.
The thought of you having sat in this same exact spot had him aching between his legs.
After making sure that the door was securely locked, he’d pull a piece of fabric out of his bag. It was one of your swim briefs that had recently gone missing. He went to hell and back obtaining it and now it was his most prized possession.
His fingers worked clumsily on his own waistband as he pulled them down enough to pool by his knees. His cock sprung free from the confines of his undergarments which was soon replaced with your own.
The hand holding the nylon fabric of your swim brief wraps around his shaft, rubbing his glistening tip to smear the fabric with his pre-cum. A strangled groan escaped him as he began to snap his hips forward, the friction of the fabric against the ridges of his cock making him croak out your name with need.
His hand trembled, thighs clenching, as he pumped and twisted the fabric down his shaft. “Fuuuck..” He draws out with a shaky breath, eyes glossy with lust.
He could only imagine how good the real deal would be. Could imagine how tightly your hole would flutter and clench around his size.
Louis tightened his grip and bucked his hips at a quicker pace as his imagination ran wild, imagining you bent over this chair with his cock buried deep inside of you and his hands leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers on your waist.
He shuddered as he reached his climax, spurts of cum connecting the tip of his dick with the fabric in his hand. His chest rose and fell frantically as he panted heavily, cheeks flushed red and a look of pure bliss.
He brought the cum-stained swim brief against his nose, catching a whiff of the faint scent of chlorine that stuck to the cloth. A scent that smelled uniquely you.
A ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs. He could get used to this.
But you were still a student which meant you’ll still have to attend the class; to be in the same room as him.
Heads turned the moment you walked in the next day; hair damp, bag slung over one shoulder. There was a faint scent of chlorine trailing after you.
Louis felt his pulse quicken, fast and hard against his ribcage. He had to put in extra effort not to show his excitement at the sight of you greeting your classmates like you naturally belonged there. He forced his attention away from your form, but still couldn’t help stealing glances in your direction.
After your small conversation, you finally drop onto your seat beside him, the empty chair finally filled after weeks of its owner’s absence.
Louis had to swallow the stupid, reflexive relief that rose in his throat, making his Adam's apple subtly bob.
He didn’t know what to do. Should he greet you? Would you find that weird?
Then you turned as he was in the middle of his panicked thoughts, looking directly at the new unfamiliar face.
“Hey,” you whispered, voice light and friendly as you decide to do the first move of introducing yourself. “I’m–”
“I know,” he said rather quickly, unconsciously cutting you off which made him flinch slightly. He didn’t mean to.
Shit. That was rude of him. Were you angry?
Instead you blinked then smiled which instantly filled him with relief.
“I’m not surprised,” you say, brimming with confidence but not in a way that came off narcissistic. It was still kind. Polite. “So what’s your name?”
“Louis,” he answered.
You asked if he was new. He nodded.
You joked about your seat collecting dust, and Louis silently watched your mouth move around the words, watched the way you smiled like humor was the easiest bridge you knew to building a connection.
He wanted to step onto that bridge. Yet he didn’t. Couldn’t.
Louis looked back down at his notebook before his eyes could betray him. He couldn’t look at you, not after the shameless acts he committed in that very seat of yours.
You began talking to him anyway.
It wasn’t strategic at first, just a natural instinct of yours to never shut up. You treated people like they were already your friends, like connection was something you tossed out with both hands and trusted the world to catch.
Louis hated it, yet also loved it.
You told him about your practices, your coach’s threats, the misery of being forced back into class. You complained about homework like it was personally offensive. You joked and smiled and leaned a little too close when you spoke.
Louis always responded briefly yet still polite.
He kept his words minimal, because if he gave you too much, he was afraid he’d get too comfortable and reveal the ugly truth of his obsession.
Louis had watched you compete more times than he’d watched his own reflection. He had learned your routines, your habits, the places you’d hang out in after practice, and the people you surrounded yourself with.
He had rooted for you in silence, never loud enough to be part of the crowd. He told himself that seeing and watching you from afar was enough.
Now you were right beside him, alive and breathing and real, and Louis had to sit very still each time so his body didn’t do something humiliating in your presence.
You were surprisingly quick to notice his guardedness.
People were normally drawn to you. Louis refusing to lean in made you curious in a way that bordered on irritation.
Like a fish refusing to take bait, so you decided to try harder.
Louis watched you drift behind him, failing horribly to stay undetected with how your larger figure towered over most students. Not like a creep, more like.. a curious cat. At least that’s what you told yourself.
You slid into the seat across from him at lunch, uninvited and smiling, like the spot had always been yours.
Louis’s eyes lifted. His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture tightened. He watched you shine your smile at him like a weapon.
A very effective one it seems.
The timid male eventually (was forced to) accept your lingering presence, allowing you to talk about your day and ask about his. You could sense that he was still tense every time you were near, but you learned to dance around it.
You’d been adored in loud, easy ways your whole life. Compared to the rest, Louis’s attention felt.. sharpened. Like it had edges that could cut through you easily.
It thrilled you in a way you couldn’t name.
So you started showing up more.
Sitting with him. Walking with him. Asking questions just to watch him answer. Laughing even when he didn’t laugh, because it made him look briefly confused, like he was trying to read through your intentions.
You followed him like a lost puppy. And the more Louis tried to keep his distance, the more your curiosity curled into something stickier.
If Louis could look at you and not reach, then you’d reach for him until he had no choice but to notice.
But the closer you got, the more anxious Louis became.
His thoughts spiralled.
Were you onto him? Were you getting close to him so you could beat him up later?
Things were going way too smoothly that he couldn’t help but think you had your suspicions on him.
But no, it was just you genuinely wanting to befriend him. To get him to finally look at you without that wary look of his.
At first, you told yourself that you simply took interest in him because of his guarded nature. But over time, you weren’t so sure anymore.
Your little collection started as a joke.
“You’re so photogenic,” you teased, snapping a picture of him with your phone.
Louis’s hand rose instinctively, palm angled to block the camera, but you caught his eyes in the frame anyway, sharp and startled.
“Delete that,” he said.
“No,” you grinned.
Then you dragged him into selfies, hooking an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the way his body went rigid in your arm, and snapped pictures with your grin and his restrained expression.
You printed them at home, gaslit yourself that you were simply keeping it as a memory of your newly acquired friend.
Then it escalated. Always subtle, never obvious.
You volunteered to throw away his trash like you were just being the typical helpful friend you were.
“Hey,” you’d say, collecting Louis’s empty drink bottle, his used napkin. “I got it.”
He’d blink, hesitant. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you’d insist, flashing a smile that made him stop questioning you.
At home, you rinsed the bottle carefully, smoothed the napkin flat, and tucked them away to the safety of your room.
It stopped being a joke.
You gave the pieces of him a place in your room. It started as a small box, then a drawer, and currently a shelf.
You find yourself questioning your new formed habit as you stare at the makeshift altar in your room. It was ridiculous. But It was… yours.
You told yourself you were just trying to understand him and that this was one of the ways you could get closer to him.
But in reality, you wanted to own the mystery that was Louis.
And that certain mystery watched you with knowing eyes.
Louis knew he should have questioned your intentions, should have asked you to stop before he ended up giving in to all the attention you were giving him.
Instead, he kept silent. A part of him wanted to see how far you’d go. He basked in your attention.
Then he was asked to be your tutor. Louis said yes without hesitation while you looked less pleased, but agreed nonetheless, because you had a coach to appease and a spot in your university's swim team to maintain.
Louis arrived right on time after you’ve both scheduled the session at your house. He placed his shoes neatly by the door and allowed himself to be led to your room where your desk was already set up with notebooks, highlighters, and a few snacks.
For a while, you two studied; actually studied. It was almost comically domestic to watch you two converse casually through the body mirror in your room.
You had placed a cloth over your altar of him, foolishly thinking that it would automatically make him back off. But then again, you were unaware of how Louis’s thoughts worked.
“I’ll get us drinks,” you said, and left the room. The door clicked shut and silence settled, leaving him alone in your room.
Louis’s body moved before he could stop it. He was just looking around. It was normal to be curious in a new environment.
His gaze slid to your covered shelf. It had been bothering him ever since he entered your room. What was so important that you had to cover it up?
He wanted to know, to see if there was a piece of you worth hoarding on that shelf.
Louis stood, steps quiet as he walked through the room. He carefully slid the cloth aside.
And there it was.
Printed photos of him arranged like an exhibition in a museum, a rinsed bottle he recognized, a flattened napkin, and crumpled wrappers that were smoothed out.
An altar. Of him.
Louis stared down at it, and the world around him narrowed, heat flooding in his chest. Not out of embarrassment nor anger.
It was something darker and sweeter.
The sound of glass breaking pierced through the silence which made Louis suddenly turn to see you frozen by the doorway of your bedroom, pieces of glass and a spilled drink by your feet.
All the color on your face was nowhere to be seen, pale and panicked.
“I can explain,” you said rather quickly, clearly horrified at the male’s discovery of your makeshift altar.
Louis quickly caught the tremble on your lower lip. You were embarrassed.. scared that he’d run away if you move even a single inch towards him.
“I..” You forced yourself to start, finally snapping out of your startled trance to crouch down and start picking up the broken pieces of glass by your feet. Anything to distract yourself from the male’s sharp gaze. “I didn’t mean to. It was supposed to be a joke.”
Your fingers picked at the glass, trembling, your eyes unfocused as you tried to chuckle, but it came out as a small whimper instead. Like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.
Louis watched your messy state, not used to seeing you so.. unravelled. You usually handled situations with ease using your charm; you’d grin, you’d laugh, anything to lighten the mood. But this was different, you were showing another side of vulnerability that you’d never shown before.
It was.. exhilarating.
The silence was thick.
Louis softly brushed the cloth back to its proper place, careful, respectful, like he was handling something sacred. He stepped in front of your crouched form and kneeled to your level, a hand darting out to stop you from picking up another piece of glass.
Every restraint he had forced upon himself snapped like a rope on its final straw.
Louis pulled your wrist with a strength you didn’t expect to come from someone like him. With feverish hunger, he crashed his lips against yours and wasted no time shoving himself past your lips.
You didn’t pull away, instead you quickly dropped the pieces of broken glass in your hand onto the space beside you and wrapped your arms around his waist, tilting your head slightly to the side to further deepen the kiss you two shared.
And for the first time, the feeling of being close to you wasn’t something he had to carefully plan or feel through material objects you owned.
apologies for spamming ur feed by liking all of ur posts but ur work has ENTIRELY enchanted me…. Like i genuinely read your whole blog in one sitting bc i love ur writing style that much !! i am especially happy to see more male x male readers and the way you write such an amazing blend of suspense and fear and obsession and love has me so obsessed :D I’m very much a lurker on tumblr but I wanted to send all my appreciation your way and say I’m looking forward to new updates in the future 💗
No need to apologize for the spam, I love it when readers take the time to check out my other works !!
Thank you for reading and appreciating my fics, anon,, I look forward to writing more for you and other male reader enjoyers <33
Hihi was wondering if I could be 💌 anon! Also could I possibly request a yandere x yandere reader?
The oc is a complete loser while reader is an outgoing and kinda stupid yet kind jock. At some point reader starts just randomly following oc around and oc is terrified that the reader has figured out what feelings he harbors for him and was going to fight! But oh, he only wanted to friends.
Time skip a few times they meet up and oc finds out that reader has a poorly hidden altar of him.
(if any smut, reader as the bottom please!)
Ofc you can be 💌 !
I’ll put your request in my line up. I’ve always wanted to do a yandere reader scenario and this gave me the perfect opportunity to do just that ~
Gilded Bird Cage | Yandere! Childhood friend x Male! Reader [ Pt. 3 ]
! MDNI !
Pairing : Yandere Childhood Friend x Male Reader
Content Warning : smut chapter, that’s it
Author’s Note : that's all for eirian for now unless you guys ask for a specific scenario regarding his character. enjoy reading !
PART 1 | PART 2 | requests/ask
Drive you home, he said.
"Is this what you wanted?" you breath against his lips, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. “To make me indebted to you?”
The kiss was agonizingly light. Your fingers tightened around his blonde locks to pull him closer. He let out a sharp, jagged exhale against your mouth, a sound of surrender that didn't match the way his body crowded yours against the leather seat.
The kiss eventually deepened, turning from a hesitant touch into something fierce and desperate, fueled by the years he had spent having to watch you move forward without him from the shadows.
“No.” He pulled away momentarily to reply. “I just wanted you to realize that you need me,” your hot breaths mixed together, ragged and heavy. “That your life falls apart if I don’t get a say in it.”
Then he crashed your lips together once more. His tongue swiped against your lower lip, a silent demand you immediately met by parting your lips together to grant him the access he desperately needed.
His hand slid down to find the small of your back, pressing you into him. His tongue moved with a rhythmic, possessive drive that left you lightheaded. Your other hand tugged at his collar, prompting him to pull away and let you catch your breath.
And while you were doing that, Eirian placed a hand against your chest to slowly lower you onto the leather seat. The backseat was a little cramped for the both of you to move freely, but that wasn’t one of Eirian’s concerns right now.
His hands slowly trailed down your torso with a gentle touch, as if a slightly harder press would make you break. They rest on your inner thigh, and with a gentle push he parted them to fill the gap in between.
Eirian leaned down to rest his cheek on your right thigh, lilac eyes gazing up at you with a look that screamed devotion. His hand wrapped around one of your wrist, a thumb gently caressing your wrist which caused you to tense up slightly. It was the same hand he snapped out of place before you left.
Instead, he gently pulled your wrist towards his lips and planted a gentle kiss against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured an apology, sensing the way you tensed in his grip.
Wordlessly, he led your fingers to rest on his head, brushing against his hair as he worked on undoing your belt.
The sound of the zipper coming down was obscenely loud in the confined space, followed by the hush sound of fabric being pushed down to pool at your thighs as Eirian pushed them down just enough for your dick to spring to life.
His breathing hitched as he took in the sight of your hard cock, violet eyes dilating with desire as his thumb swiped experimentally across your bare cock, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered at the tip.
He leaned down, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before his lips finally made contact with the tip of your cock, soon sealing themselves around your shaft which caused you to tighten your grip on his hair and throw your head back.
The initial suck was gentle, deliberately so, which somehow made it worse as the head of your cock hit the back of his throat, his tongue immediately swirling up along the sensitive underside while your fingers maintained a firm grip on his hair.
Eirian angled his head slightly sideways, drowning in every groan you managed to suppress. It was overwhelming, Eirian bobbed rhythmically with increasing enthusiasm. He'd clearly practiced this fantasy in his head more than he’d like to admit.
The way he worked with his mouth was addicting. His other hand pumped through the areas his mouth wasn’t able to reach; wet, obscene sounds against your heated skin. His violet eyes flicked up to yours for a brief, burning your expressions into his memory.
As soon as you finished, Eirian made sure to plunge himself deeply down your length, not wasting a single drop of your cum as he finally freed his mouth, lips connected to your tip by a trail of his own saliva and a thin string of your load. You slowly removed your hand from his blonde locks and slid them down to cup his cheek where he leaned into your touch and slightly parted his lips to show you that he took all of you. Not a single wasted drop.
Satisfied with your attention on him, Eirian moved away to pull your shirt up, revealing more of your bare torso.
“Say ahh.”
“A—“ he stuffed the fabric of your shirt past your parted lips to hold it up and muffle your moans at the same time.
Eirian shifted his hips up from where they'd been settled between your legs so that his own erection pressed against your thigh through the fabric still covering him. But that was soon gone too, leaving his throbbing cock to slap against your thigh.
His cock was pressing directly against your entrance now, head already slick with pre-cum as though preparing itself to push past the tight ring of muscle on your rim.
And fuck, he looked desperate. The sweet controlled worship from a while ago was entirely replaced by something hungry and erratic.
Eirian’s hips bucked against yours as he finally buried himself inside you with one thrust, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough that there would be bruises later. He felt your walls tighten around him, making him melt; making you melt.
He felt your nails digging onto his shoulders, pausing to let your insides adjust to his size.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he consoled you gently, a hand slowly guiding one of yours that dug through his skin to rest against his cheek. He nuzzled himself against the palm of your hand, eyes watching as tears cascaded down your cheeks from the burning sensation of being stretched out and filled. “You’re okay. You’re doing amazing.”
Then he moved, slowly and sensually. He stayed attentive with each twitch of your body and your fingers on his cheek as he thrusted his hips, pulling out with only the head of his cock left inside of you before slamming back down.
He felt your fingers curl against his cheek as your body jolted from the sudden sensation, it made you see stars.
Seeing that you no longer seemed to be in pain, Eirian finally gained the courage to maintain a constant pace that eventually grew faster and needy with each passing second that you showed him a positive reaction. You could hear him muttering curses under his breath, telling you how good you felt around his cock.
He kept one hand wrapped around yours throughout the entire thing, connecting his lips with yours at one point as he felt himself nearing his climax. You had already finished before him, cum painting both your abdomens white with your own release.
Eirian's entire body went rigid, his spine arching as his cock swelled even thicker inside of you. A strangled sound tore from his throat, something between a whimper and a groan.
Hot spurts of cum flooded into your already-stretched hole that made your entire body shudder at the sudden feeling of warmth inside you.
Eirian's head fell back, throat exposed as it bobbed when he swallowed thickly. His orgasm continued, seemingly endless as he emptied himself completely inside of you.
The wet sound of his cum filling your tight hole was obscene, proof of finally letting himself claim you after all those years.
“Please let me take care of you this time,” he muttered softly, head resting against your shoulder. His cock stayed buried inside of you, keeping all of his load from spilling out.
Author’s Note : I'm just glad i finally finished writing this one so I can move on to other ideas. enjoy reading! Spicy scene is on part 3 which is also now posted.
PART 1 | PART 3 | requests/ask
The childhood from your memories ended at your parents’ funeral. Moving in with your grandparents meant a new town, a new school, and a distance that pulled you away from Eirian and everything familiar, your shared childhood becoming a distant memory.
The day of your departure still stuck with you like a mental scar.
Boxes were stacked outside your house as you waited with your grandparents for the moving truck to arrive.
You stayed in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch, swinging both your legs anxiously. The motion was small and constant, an action made to distract yourself from your own thoughts.
This was going to be a big change, and despite your confidence in being able to settle in just fine, you still couldn’t help but feel nervous.
The knock came in the middle of your leg-swinging, loud enough to punch through the quiet. Not like the soft, cautious knocks of a stranger, it was sharper. Impatient.
Your grandmother answered the door to reveal Eirian standing on the porch.
His eyes found you immediately. They always did.
He greeted your grandparents politely as soon as he stepped inside, but it was clear that the main purpose of his visit was you with the way his gaze on your form never wavered even as he exchanged greetings with your grandparents.
He paused in front of you, eyes half-lidded as they stared at your own. You catch a glint of something behind their softness. Not fear. Not sadness. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
“Hey,” you decide to break the silence, afraid that he’d end up staring at you the entire time until it was time for you to leave.
The glint disappeared as soon as your voice snapped him out of his trance. He hastily greeted you back, fingers fidgeting with something in his hands as you two exchanged a light conversation.
Then he drops a question.
“Could we maybe go look at your room?” he started, glancing toward the hallway. “One last time?”
Something whispered in the back of your mind to reject the suggestion, but the guilt of turning down one of his last requests got the best of you. And your bedroom was one of your hangout spots besides his backyard, so prohibiting him from seeing it one last time would simply be cruel of you.
So you agreed.
Your bedroom door was half open, half empty. The bed was stripped leaving only the bedframe, the closet bare without your clothes in them, and the floor had pale squares where furniture used to sit.
It looked strange without the little pieces that made it yours.
“Everything’s gone,” you heard him whisper, lips tugged into a small frown. Then he turned to you. “Do you really have to go?”
You noticed the boy’s sad expression, your instincts immediately telling you to comfort him. “I’ll still visit from time to time.” You tried to keep your tone light, not wanting your last moments together to hold a lonely atmosphere.
Eirian blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I don’t believe you.
Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out, holding it out to you with both hands; the gesture familiar. Too familiar.
His eyes caught sight of the slight flinch on your shoulders.
Because the first thing your mind recalled was a faint memory. It saw blood, feathers stuck to his wrist, and the ragged edges where wings were supposed to be.
He watched your face, eyes bright with focus, as if he was studying a reaction he wanted to keep.
“Do you like it?” He asked, knowing damn well what was going on inside your head the moment your eyes landed on the item in his hands; a toy bird completely made out of plastic. Its wings were hinged so they could flap if you pressed a button under its stomach.
Your hands stiffen, watching as he placed the toy onto your palm and secured it there by placing a hand on top of it.
“You know,” he started. Gone was the sad expression on his face, replaced by repressed anger hidden behind a calm smile.
“It’s hard,” his gaze flicked to the toy bird in your hands, then back to you, as if the object was only a stand-in for something else. “to keep something that can fly away at any time.”
Then, without warning, he snapped one of the toy bird’s wings with a sharp crack. Clean.
You jolted at the sound and instinctively tried to take the toy away from his grasp in an attempt to save it, but Eirian’s other hand grabbed your wrist to hold it in place before you could.
Then he snapped the other wing. The toy bird rested in your shaking palm, wingless and ruined.
“There,” he says, proud of his work. “I fixed it.”
“Let go.” You try to pull away from his grip, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.
Not painfully. Not yet.
Just enough to stop you.
You tugged harder.
His grip tightened in response, twice the force, a quiet warning disguised as persistence. His thumb pressed into the inside of your wrist like a mark.
Then you hear it–
‘Crack!’
“Woa!”
A startled voice snapped you out of your trance, dragging you back to the present. Your breath hitched, and the world sharpened.
The lights, the noise, the smell of coffee, the clatter of cups.
The plastic container in your hand had crumpled under your grip. A jagged crack split the side, and coffee dribbled down your fingers onto the counter.
With a disappointed hiss, you disposed of the cup in a nearby trashcan. “Sorry! I’ll make you a new one.”
It had been years since you'd last seen your childhood friend, let alone hear any news about him.
Since then, misfortune seemed to follow you wherever you went.
It started when you stepped into your first year of freshman year at a new school after moving in with your grandparents
Invitations were nowhere near existent. Group chats went silent when you typed. You learned to sit alone without making it obvious you’d been left there.
You told yourself that you didn’t need anyone anyway, something you’d cling onto to make the sting of rejection hurt less. After graduation, you thought it would all stop and that you’d finally be able to live your life to the fullest.
Oh, how wrong you were.
Workplaces rejected your applications even after interviews that went well. The feedback was always positive, right up until the final email.
‘We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.’ their email would read.
And on the rare occasions you did get hired, you never lasted long. A month, maybe two, before something goes wrong that you couldn’t explain: a complaint, a mismatch, a manager suddenly deciding that you weren’t a good fit for the position.
Hell, even your love life felt rigged. First dates that ended with warm smiles and promises to meet again, only for your messages to go unanswered the next day. Partners who seemed close to you one week and strangely distant the next, as if they’d heard something that rewrote you in their mind.
Breakups were always with vague explanations. You stopped trying to ask what changed, because no clear answers ever came.
So you kept your head down. Took what jobs you could. Stayed independent in the way you’d always been.
Luckily, your current job as a barista at a local cafe has been treating you well so far. Too well.
Perhaps the years of enduring misfortune made you guarded that way.
The first time you noticed it, you didn’t suspect a thing. Instead, you called it pure luck. As if the universe finally saw through your misfortune and decided to switch up for once.
It was the dead middle of your shift, the café’s air thick with the smell of brewed coffee and steamed milk. Your feet ached in that familiar, dull way that made the world feel slightly tilted.
“I’m so tired,” You’d mutter to yourself while wiping the counter, and you meant it as a private complaint, nothing more.
By the end of the day, there was a sudden change in your schedule.
“Hey,” you said to your manager as you clocked out, keeping your tone casual. “Did you move my closing shift?”
She didn’t bother to look up from the tablet in her arms. “Yeah. You’re on mornings starting tomorrow.”
Your brows knit together in confusion. “Why? I didn’t ask for that.”
She finally glanced up, expression stiff, a touch too polite. “Someone recommended it.”
“Who?”
“Too many questions.”
You forced a small laugh. “Okay,” you said, and let it go.
You should have felt relieved. It meant more sleep, more time to check on your grandparents, fewer nights walking home alone. It was the kind of change people would get on their knees and beg for.
Instead, a prickling unease crawled up your spine.
That night, you got home and found your grandmother in the living room, holding a paper bag with a pharmacy logo you didn’t recognize.
“Oh,” she said, smiling. “Your medicine came early.”
“Mine?”
“Your grandfather’s heart medication. The one the clinic said might take another week. But a delivery man came. Very respectful. He said it was all taken care of.”
“Who paid for it?”
She hesitated. “He didn’t say.”
You stared at the bag until the letters blurred. You don’t remember paying for anything to get delivered. Or maybe you’ve simply forgotten about it.
The next morning, you walked into your workplace and found a new espresso machine sitting where the old one had been sputtering and coughing for months.
“What is that?” you asked, blinking at it like it might be a hallucination.
The barista beside you whistled. “The new owner sent it.”
“New owner?”
She nodded, excited. “Apparently he hates seeing employees struggle with broken equipment. Isn’t that sweet?”
Sweet.
The word sat wrong in your mouth, but you tried to ignore it.
Then good things happened more often to be called a coincidence.
Small problems stopped reaching you. They died before they could become yours.
You mentioned, offhand, that the storage room door jammed sometimes. The next day, it swung open smoothly, a brand-new hinge gleaming like it had always belonged there.
Then there was your coworker. Mara. She wasn’t outright cruel, just had a bit of an attitude problem.
Every instruction from you was treated as an insult by her. She’d yell whenever you tried to correct her, and every mistake on the counter somehow became your fault.
You stayed silent because you were used to dealing with this kind of treatment in the workplace.
The next day, Mara didn’t come in, and the day after that. On the third day, your manager cleared her throat while you were preparing to open.
“Mara’s been transferred.”
You froze with a milk jug in your hands. “Transferred where?”
“Different branch.”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied quickly. “Owner’s order.”
Owner.
It was always the new owner behind these things.
When you finally stepped out into the late afternoon, the sun was bright. Not a sight you were used to since you were used to working the closing shift.
You walked past the alley beside the cafe.
“Walking home?” The new voice came from the side, mild and warm.
You stopped.
Eirian stood near the building’s shadow, hands in his pockets, expression composed as if he’d just stepped out for fresh air and happened to find you.
You froze at the sight of your childhood friend, and it felt like his presence clicked everything into place
“.. Did you transfer Mara?” That was the first thing you blurted out.
Eirian blinked once, as if surprised by the directness, then he mustered out a small laugh.
“Not even a ‘hi’?” He asked.
You weren’t sure if it was because you haven’t seen him in so long, but his vibe felt completely different to the one you remembered in your childhood. He looked more.. compose. No longer avoiding eye contact or fidgeting.
He sighed gently at your silence. “I simply want to keep my employees in check, I’d be a bad employer otherwise.”
You felt a sense of unease at the sight of Eirian, especially now that you’ve linked all the good things that had recently happened to you back to him. Although, it didn’t harm you in any way.
“Were you also the one who delivered the medicine?” Another question. How cold.
“I’ll answer your questions if you let me drive you home.”
Pairing : Yandere Bully (Kaino) x Male Crossdresser Reader
Author's Note : not sure if i can call this a part 3 since it isn't exactly a fic, but here's a quick scenario showcasing how Kaino would react if a new person were to try to enter your life.
PART 1 | PART 2 | requests
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Kaino felt often.
What was there to be jealous of? He had everything he wanted: friends, money, decent grades.
You.
With your secret held over your head, he’d been able to keep you close. Not that you were enthusiastic about it.
But he could overlook that for now. You’d learn to love having him around eventually. Kaino was a patient man, and it wasn’t like you had any other friends to cling to. He was your only choice of company.
Until someone came along to shatter that perfect picture.
For the first time in his life, Kaino felt his chest tighten when he saw someone hanging around you these past few days. A junior you were assigned to tutor; sweet and innocent, a complete opposite of him. Maybe that was your type.
Kaino could only watch from a distance as your usually stoic expression softened whenever you spoke to the younger guy. Barely noticeable, but Kaino noticed.
Of course he could tell. The slight twitch of your lips was a dead giveaway.
His own lips twitched up into an irritated smirk when his gaze caught the junior’s touch lingering a little longer than usual as he brushed a dried leaf off your shoulder.
Kaino pulled you into an empty classroom during your free period that day, teeth sinking into your shoulder blade, lips following to suck at the spot he’d just bitten until the sting bloomed into a purple bruise.
He repeated the same process until he was finally satisfied that he’d gotten rid of any traces of that junior’s touch on your skin.
You stood there, dumbfounded, watching him leave without an explanation. Your collar hung loose, stretched out to make room for his lips.
The next day, you covered the marks with foundation and tore into him with a string of curses. When you demanded to know why, Kaino only shrugged.
“Just an urge,” he said, like it was reason enough.
If you still didn’t get the hint after that, Kaino would finally put your secret to proper use.
Once he caught the junior alone, he pulled him aside and cornered him the same way he had once cornered you. Then he took out his phone and showed the poor, shock-ridden kid an array of photos. You in your crossdressing glory, captured from angles you never realized existed.
Kaino, under the guise of concern, told the junior to start avoiding you if he didn’t want to be seduced and deceived by you, dragging your name through the mud by making up rumors on the spot.
Like how you’d thrown yourself at him, for example.
It wasn’t true. Not yet.
But he could only wish.
He ended the confrontation with a threat: to keep this conversation between the two of them, unless the junior wanted his life ruined.
The next day, the junior started avoiding you like the plague. He had changed tutors without telling you and blocked your number completely.
It wasn’t the first time Kaino used your secret to drive people away. He did it in public, too, whenever the two of you were out together.
Strangers approached you often. They would compliment you, smile, and then comes the inevitable phrase, “Can I get your number?”
Kaino would simply wrap an arm around your waist and give the stranger asking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“He’s a man,” he’d say bluntly.
It was always entertaining to watch their expression collapse into embarrassment as they apologized and hurried away.
You’d glare up at him after the awkward encounter. “What was that for?”
Kaino would shrug, the hand at your waist tightening just a touch, a soft squeeze that didn’t match the coldness in his eyes.
“Just felt like it,” he’d say, gaze drifting elsewhere. “It’s rude to have people approach you when we’re out on a date.”
“This isn’t a date.” not yet.
Kaino only hums in response.
You’ll learn eventually.
He’d keep you by his side until he was your only option for love, if he had to.
Gilded Bird Cage | Yandere! Childhood Friend x Male! Reader [ Pt. 1 ]
! MDNI !
pairing : yandere childhood friend x male reader
content warning : animal death, character death (non-major character)
author's note : eirian's here! this series will be split into three chapters, and i'll try to hopefully post one chapter per day. this chapter is mostly focused on eirian and reader's background, no extreme stuff yet!
PART 2 | PART 3 | requests/ask
As an only child, your parents would often tell you that you’d need to handle things by yourself someday, so you might as well start learning young. Independence, they called it. A skill you’d be thanking them later in life for.
Grownups loved to praise you. Always commenting on how you were ‘too mature for your age’.
Back then, you took it as a compliment.
But if the line between independence and pushing people away trying to help you blurs, could you still consider it as something positive?
Eirian hated it. Hated that you lived without leaning; hated that you gave so freely to others but treated help like a bag of snakes.
“Come on, Ei!” you’d exclaim, grabbing the cuff of his sleeve and tugging him away from the fence where he lingered like a timid animal. “You’re not allergic to fun, you know.”
He would blink at you, cheeks pink. You could barely hear him speak up with how soft his voice was. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You won’t be,” you reassured him, lifting his hand and waving it like a flag.
The other kids would wave at you two with cheerful smiles and all would turn out well. Everything turned out fine when you were around.
“See? You’re fitting in nicely,” you’d cheer him on as you two ran across the playground, hand-in-hand, running away from the tagger with echoing laughter. Eirian’s cheeks flushed red. Either from the warmth of your hands in his or from all the running you two had to do.
His parents often praised you for being able to bring their son out of his shell while Eirian watched you with quiet attention; a silent interest.
“I want to be like you,” he murmured one time as you two were resting in his backyard, backs against the grassy ground.
You were too occupied with scanning the clouds for shapes to notice his gaze on you. His eyes were soft, wide and sincere, as if he was staring at the most interesting piece of artwork in a museum. “You’re so.. free.”
You laughed as you rolled onto your stomach and rested your chin on the palm of your hand, gaze now meeting his.
“I’m sure you’ll learn at your own pace, Ei.” You reach out a hand to ruffle his blonde hair, making his pale skin flush a light shade of pink.
Eirian looked up to you more than he should, his gazes lingering longer than usual.
There were moments he stared a little too much with a glint in his eyes. Like he was memorizing the parts of you that made other people feel safe.
And sometimes, when you weren’t looking, something in him would shift.
His small hands would catch the back of your shirt, fingers tightening as if he meant to yank you back, or tear something loose. Then he’d blink, snapping out of his trance. His eyes would sting with glossy, pitiful tears, apologizing in a voice so soft it made you feel like you did something wrong.
It worked like a charm. You couldn’t stay mad at him. Not at Ei.
“What do you have there?” You asked one afternoon, peering over his shoulder.
You had come over to play with Eirian as usual, deciding to surprise him by not letting him know that you were coming.
But he seemed to have a bigger surprise for you.
Eirian quickly turned as soon as he heard your voice, offering his hands out towards you where he held a small creature. A small, brown-feathered bird.
He smiled widely, but the gesture was not reciprocated.
Instead he was met with your horrified expression, a gasp trapped behind your palms as you slapped them over your mouth, staring at the dead creature in his blood-stained hands with wide eyes.
It was unmoving; dead.
The bird’s wings were missing. Not tucked, not folded, missing.
From the ragged edges and the dark smears of red on Eirian’s hands, it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.
“What’s wrong?” Eirian asked, his voice small, like he has yet to understand what he just did wrong.
Eirian stood there with his arms still extended, the dead bird extended towards you like a gift. Blood clung to his knuckles; a bloodied feather on his wrist. “Look, it reminded me of you.”
Your hands stay clamped over your mouth. Then you force them to lower slowly despite the slight tremble in them, your expression morphing into practiced stillness. Your parents’ voices echoed in your head. All those years of ‘handle it yourself’ masked the tremble in your voice as you spoke.
“I…” Your voice broke slightly, high-pitched, which you fixed by clearing your throat to make your tone firmer. “Ei. Where did you find that?”
Eirian’s smile wavers, but steadies again when he hears you say his nickname, eyes round and earnest.
“By the fence,” he says calmly. “It wouldn’t let me get close, so I wanted to fix it.”
Fix it, he says.
The words that escaped from the young boy’s lips landed wrong, but you kept your face neutral. You didn’t want him to feel like he did something wrong, he’d cry for sure.
Instead, you tried to convince yourself that this was normal. Yeah.. kids break things all the time.
“Okay,” you swallow carefully, stammering. “Okay. So um, you… you shouldn’t treat animals like that.” You glance at the bird’s torn body, but force your eyes back up to his face, because if you look down again you might completely lose your composure.
Eirian blinks slowly. “Like what?”
How could you possibly explain that what he did was wrong without setting him off?
Unable to construct the right words, you opted to change the subject. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, as if the blood in his hands were his own and not the small creature’s. “Your hands. Did the bird scratch you?”
“It didn’t scratch,” he says, calm and unfazed like the bird was the bothersome one. “It just wouldn’t stay still.”
You nod your head silently in response, as though it made sense for a bird to be blamed for resisting.
“Maybe it was scared,” you tried to offer an explanation, but it felt absurd to have to explain fear to someone holding a mutilated creature.
Eirian shifted the bird in his hands, cradling it carefully, almost tenderly. But the tenderness didn’t make it any better, it only made it worse. It was like watching someone pet a knife.
“I wasn't trying to scare it,” He muttered slowly, sadness lacing his tone. “I wanted to help it, but it wouldn’t cooperate.”
“So,” you trail off, trying to make sense of the boy’s reasoning, “you tried to help it by hurting it?”
Eirian tilted his head, as if the word hurt didn’t fit the description he had in mind. “I stopped it from running away,” he corrected softly. “So it would have to let me help it.”
“It reminds me of you,” he repeats his earlier statement, as if he was hoping that saying that would make you feel better. “Because it was small.”
You stiffen, brows furrowed together in confusion. “I’m not small.”
Eirian’s eyes widen, a tiny, apologetic sound escaping him. He uses it often whenever he realizes that he’d made a social mistake.
“I didn’t mean it like that ! I mean you’re… you’re always helping things that are weaker, is all.” His wide lilac colored eyes stare up at you with reverence. He said it so earnestly that it almost sounds like a compliment. “I wanted to do the same.”
“Okay, uhm..” you say carefully. You really didn’t want to hear any more of his reasoning. It was only making you withdraw further.
For the second time, you divert the topic away from the bird, seizing the opportunity to step forward and gently guide his wrists downward so the bird was no longer in your line of sight.
“We should really get you cleaned up before your mom sees you in this state.” You try not to touch the blood as you were pushing his hands down.
Eirian watched you closely, eyes tracking your every move, as if your composure was something he wanted to keep intact. Like a toy he didn’t want broken.
The quiet stretched on. Then his lower lip trembles, and panic spikes through you because you could already see the tears coming.
So you move first.
You reach out and ruffle his hair. “It’s okay, It’s okay!” you say with false enthusiasm. “We’ll just clean it up, alright?”
The tears pause. His eyes stay glossy, but they don’t spill. He leans into the touch just slightly, like a cat accepting a hand.
“Okay,” he whispers, fighting back a smile from twitching onto his lips.
Good. Comfort him, just like you always do.
You keep your voice gentle to avoid setting him off further. “Let’s go to the bathroom. Wash your hands. Then we can bury the birdie outside.”
Eirian’s fingers curl around the bird a little tighter, as if you’ve suggested taking away a prize. “Bury?” he echoed. “But I brought it for you. It's a gift.”
Your throat tightens, but you smile anyway. “That’s sweet,” you lied through your teeth, because lying was apparently easier than watching him fall apart. “But If we bury it, it can.. it can rest.”
You guide him toward the hallway, careful not to look too closely at what he’s holding. And while you lead him to the sink, you keep repeating excuses inside your head, layering them like bandages.
He’s just a kid.
You scrub his hands under warm water until the red becomes pink, then disappears, swirling down the drain like it never existed. Eirian watched the water as if it’s fascinating, glancing at your hands that glided through his soapy ones from time to time.
He didn’t mean it.
When you dry his fingers, he doesn’t pull away.
He wanted to impress you.
He looks up at you with that soft, devoted stare, and for a second your stomach goes hollow, because his expression isn’t guilty.
It was pleased.
As if you’ve just proven something to him.
You’ve just shown him exactly how far he can go and still be forgiven.
It’s a one-time thing.
The summer before your first year of high school was when everything split. The air smelled like rain that couldn’t decide whether to fall.
You were dressed in all black, grief painting your expression as people moved around you in cautious circles. Someone tried to hug you, and you surprisingly let them, shoulders stiffening at the unfamiliar gesture. Another person offered you water and you accepted it, swallowed, thanked them, then set the cup down without shaking.
You didn’t cry. Not once.
Eirian stood beside his parents, hands clasped together in front of him. His expression was composed into a gentle and sorrowful one, carrying with him a careful softness because he had watched people reward his softness his whole life.
But his attention was fixated on you, sharp and hungry beneath the mask.
You looked so vulnerable, so unguarded in a way he’d never been allowed to see before because of your stubborn will to appear strong and handle everything yourself. There was something raw behind your eyes. It was like seeing a crack in the wall you effortlessly built around yourself.
And it made his pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with grief.
He waited for the crowd around you to slowly disperse before making his move. As soon as you were alone, Eirian finally made his move.
He detached himself from his parents’ side to approach your black-clad form, still wearing the same gentle, sorrowful expression he held throughout the entire funeral service.
“Hey,” he said softly after he settled by your side, gracing you with his presence. He had grown taller over the years, now towering a few inches over you.
You turn towards your friend and meet his gaze, mustering up a small smile to greet him back. “Hey..”
Eirian’s breath hitched as soon as your gazes met. Vulnerability suited you so well.
Clearing his throat, Eirian fought against whatever emotion was bubbling up inside of him as he continued the conversation. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m.. okay.” You answered, short and brief.
You held his gaze, unblinking, and for a second he saw it clearly inside your tired eyes: pain disguised as politeness, like you were trying to swallow it all down. Forgotten and ignored.
Eirian’s chest went tight with something like satisfaction.
There it was. That's what he was looking forward to the moment your parents' death was announced.
He'd reach for it with words first, because words were safer than his hands that had caused nothing but destruction so far.
“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he murmured. “Not with me.”
He expected you to falter. To exhale. To lean even a little towards him.
To let him become necessary.
Instead, you did what you always did.
You took the pain, placed it behind a smile, and locked the door.
“Thank you,” you say, yet it felt distant. “But I’m fine.. really.”
It should have been expected. You’d already refused him before, but in smaller ways like brushing off his concern and waving him away with that calm confidence that made everyone else admire you and made him feel invisible.
But this time was different. He was close enough to taste the moment where you might finally stop flying and let him hold you.
Yet you still chose the sky.
Something hot and sharp flared in his chest. Every part of him was screaming at him to insist. To reach out and force everything out of you either way.
Instead, he smiled. “Of course,” he replied. “I know you’re strong.”
It sounded like praise, but it was not.
You nod once in acknowledgement, already turning away, already walking back into the crowd beside your grandparents. Eirian could only watch from a distance as you slip away from his grasp once more.
Something in him settled into place with cold clarity He felt the first real, blooming anger of his life.
Not at the rejection. At you.
At the way you could be shattered, but still refuse his help; at the way you made vulnerability look like a door he wasn’t allowed to open.
And as the crowd of mourning people swallowed you again, Eirian returned to his parents' side. His smile remained gentle, eyes kind to anyone who looked his way.
Only inside his thoughts, where no one could peer into, did he think about wings; how easy it was for something to escape if it could still fly.
Oh, how stubborn freedom was.
If you refuse to depend on him, he would simply have to make you feel like the sky was no longer an option.
I REMEMBER YOUU!! WHEN I READ UR CEO X READER X BODYGUARD FIC I WAS SO CONFUSED BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU STOLE IT😭😭 WELCOME BACK AAGHHH
yes hiiii omg !! thank you ! i was spiraling last night tryna find traces of my works from my old blog, but i unfortunately never thought to write them in my docs or export my data before deletion (rookie mistake) 🥀
good thing i managed to save two works,, also lesson learned to never use your writer username anywhere else to avoid irls discovering your fic writing blog 😭✌️ it was so embarrassing fr
Im not sure u got this cuz tumblr keeps saying something went wrong and its the third time ive tried but hi! its the pervious anon who sent the message just wanted to say that what u said was really nice to hear! i dont know why but I was soo nervous sending that but anyways your writing is great, and I’m excited to see what you write next! and also can I be 💫 anon?
i completely understand being nervous when it comes to sending asks, the anon feature is a lifesaver tbh 😭
thank you again, and ofc you can be 💫 anon !! i’ll make a list of anons soon to keep track
first of all i just wanna say i love all your works??? kaino is def my fave, esp since hes AWARE what hes done to reader (which is honestly so rare for men to do) but silas is a close second, i love how fvked up he is 🤤
second thx for the follow as well???? that shook me btw
thank you for reading them !! i have more characters planned to release soon, i’d love to know if your faves would change by then (since most of what i’ve posted so far are old characters)
and you’re wc ! i love being mooties with readers since i like seeing what some of ya’ll up to from time to time
also, this ask makes me curious about who ya’ll faves are so far and why. for research purposes or smth,,
