Imagine being crowded in the lift each morning at your workplace. You're stuck in the very corner at the back, trying to breathe amidst the press of cologne and suits.
As luck (good or bad, you haven't decided yet) would have it, you're stuck next to your workplace crush, Anaxa, except everyone calls him by his full name because he gets snappy otherwise. He smells faintly like oil, a very curious detail that you'd always noticed but never had the guts to ask about.
The other person trapping you against the wall is an unfamiliar face. A shock of light blue hair and similarly coloured eyes - oh, he's smiling at you. You flash him a brief smile back. Probably a new intern on the job... his enthusiasm will be gone in a few days though, you're sure of that.
But why's he so huge? Did he use to be some sort of athlete? Such a waste he's stuck here behind a desk like you are, instead of out on the playing field. It feels like he's blocking you off from the rest of the people in the lift, however, and you appreciate that.
Then you're at your floor. Anaxa pushes out ahead of you easily, but you're stuck, still struggling to wade through the crowd.
He turns around to pull you through just as the newbie reaches around you to help. Then all three of you are standing on the lift landing and they're exchanging sharp, tense looks. The greenie introduces himself as Phainon, and would a pretty face like yours please show him to the manager's office? He's new and he'd hate to get lost on his first day.
You can feel Anaxa's disapproval. Is it so hard to follow the signs, or is he just that dumb?
Cue Mydei - heir of the company, grumpy, and very hot-headed. What the hell are you doing standing around here with these idiots?
Then there's you, being pulled each every way, not wanting to trod on any toes but very sure that there's a fight about to break out under your very nose no matter who you choose.
"Phai-non, I wanna- mmph, wanna cum, please, Phai-"
The room fills again with the wet sound of fingers rubbing your clit. Your back arches, your hips pressing into his hand and chasing your pleasure, so close, so cl-
Phainon snatches his hand away, and you have no more energy to resist the feeble cry of desperation as your orgasm teeters - and fades away again.
"Shh," he murmurs, but you can hear the smile on his lips. "I have to teach you a lesson, don't I?
“‘m sorry,” you cry out, pressing your face to the palm he brings up to cup your cheek. “I won’t try to leave again, I promise.”
“Mhmm.” Phainon makes a sound of approval when you nibble on the pad of his thumb, kissing away unshed tears. “And?”
“And- and I love you.”
“Really?”
"Really," you sob, nuzzling into his touch.
He hums, pleased, sinking his fingers right where you needed them.
"Good girl," he says when you keen, your back arching. The rough, calloused pads of his fingers scrapes against your soft, ribbed walls, making tears spark in your eyes.
"Phai," you gasp, writhing against his grip, so hard you know it'll leave bruises the next day. "Phainon, please, please, pl-"
Your orgasm crashes over you with no warning. You cry out, rough and hoarse, so sensitive at that point that your vision whites out for a moment.
"There there," Phainon soothes, through your twitching, pleasure-addled haze. "Behave, and we'll never have to do that again."
gifts they leave you anonymously. gender neutral, reader is mentioned to wear perfume in phainon's part. TW // yandere. happy belated white day. :)
Anaxagoras
When you open your door one morning, you find a small bouquet of your favourite flower and a necklace in its box on your doorstep.
Anaxa watches you, hidden from all sight as you look up and down the street in confusion, then bring both the gifts inside. Good. The tension in his chest eases a little. At least you hadn't thrown them away.
When you meet him in the market (by chance, he says, though he knows that's a lie), he's delighted to see you wearing his gift. He'd picked it out specially for you, knowing that it was too pretty for you not to wear despite its unknown sender.
It brings out your eyes, he wants to tell you. You look wonderful.
"Anaxa? You're staring again."
He blinks. Yes, he'd been staring again, enraptured by your beauty - not just that, but the pendant around your throat, your voice, your curious, concerned expression...
He wets his lips. "My apologies. I had a late night."
"Oh, well." You take the arm he offers to you, the picture of the perfect gentleman. "You really should get more rest. You're always working."
"I'll be fine." Your warmth against his body is impossibly intoxicating. He pulls you a little closer into him. "As you were saying...?"
"Oh, yes!" You finger the pendant absently. "It was so strange. Someone left me flowers and this necklace at my door, but I have no clue who it is. Do you have any idea who it might be?"
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No idea. None at all."
Mydei
A box of chocolates sits in your cubbyhole, nestled next to your bag.
"Did someone leave this here?" you ask. Your colleague simply shrugs.
You lock up for the night, nibbling on one of the chocolates. It's just the right amount of sweetness you prefer.
Well, good food is good food, no matter where it comes from.
"Mydei!" You give the former crown prince a cheerful wave. He's leaning on the wall across the store with his signature smouldering expression, the same way he'd been doing the past few weeks since you'd met him. "Look, someone left me chocolates!"
Mydei tenses. Who? Was there an admirer of yours that he wasn't aware about?
Until you wave his box around, and he relaxes. Of course. He was the only one left with his eye on you, obviously.
"Chocolates?" he scoffs. "They should have left something better."
"Come on now." You bump him with your shoulder, an act only you'd dare to pull off. "It's the thought that counts. I appreciate them... even if you won't."
You narrow your eyes playfully at him. Mydei shoves your face away as gently as he dares, and you reel away laughing.
This is all he'd dare to ask for - simple nights spent walking you home, relishing what little time he might have left with you.
Phainon
You almost miss the letter fluttering in the crack beneath your door.
You nearly step on it on your way out, then quickly lunge after it and snatch it out of the sky before it can fly away.
You turn it over in your hands. It hadn't even come with an envelope, a detail that makes you smile to yourself. What if it'd be raining? It reminded you of one of the people closest to you - Phainon, Chrysos Heir and absolute dork when not on the battlefield.
The paper is heavy and the writing neat and looping. Had the sender commissioned a professional to write this for you?
A call from down the road has you looking up. Speaking of the devil, Phainon was trotting down the street, looking about as cheery as anyone could in the mornings.
"Good morning!" He pulls you into a hug; something that'd been odd to you at first, but you'd gotten used to it eventually. Phainon was affectionate like that, you decided. "What's that?"
He gestures towards the letter in your hand.
"A letter for me, I think." You fold it back in half. "I'll read it later."
"Oh-" Phainon catches your hand. You look at him, startled. "Wh-why not you read it now?"
"What?" You snort with laughter. "You're being weird, but okay."
As you stroll along to your destination, peering at the words carefully, Phainon gazes (read: stares) down at you, taking in every detail of your focused expression, the way your hair catches the wind, relishing the scent of perfume on your skin, still fresh before the sun can sear it away.
What are you thinking about the words he spent so long trying to piece together? Nothing he could say could fully encompass everything he felt for you... but still, he'd had to try.
i should talk more about college au dr ratio.. yandere edition
stoic, mean veritas ratio, an architecture student most infamous for making his professor cry after picking apart their design on his first semester with them.
this situation makes its rounds only second to the sculptures of him littering the art artelier every so often. at first the art students assumed that it was someone deeply infatuated with his face and figure, but after much finger pointing and head scratching, ratio walks out one day, unabashed, cradling a bust that he’d just done of himself.
handsome, mean, and eccentric. that’s all you know of veritas ratio. his eyes are a very deep and very dark purple - charming, yes, but only visually. when you’re thrown into a group project with him, he’s both infuriating to work with and also a godsend. he won’t let you contribute at all and refuses to do things anyone else’s way.
you realise he likes staring at you a lot. at first you’d thought that there was something on your face and you’d excused yourself to the bathroom when you receive a text from him telling you to take your time in there so he could work on the project in peace. how rude! you go to the professor, and just your luck, your options are to start from the top alone or to stick with him. so you return to ratio’s side with your tail between your legs, resigned to suffer for the next few weeks.
one day the school is shut down for a couple of days because someone had detected asbestos in the halls. asbestos? in this day and age? where had it even come from? and while the school authorities scramble to investigate, veritas ratio smugly invites you to his house to continue work on the project, because in his words, “slacking off is for lazy people, and i will not tolerate anything less than a perfect grade”.
you suppose it’s hard to argue with that, and drag yourself over to his place.
something something drugs… spiked drink… suddenly you’re dozing uncontrollably and veritas is helping you into his bed, tucking you under the warm covers, massaging the nape of your neck, his hands wandering under the hem of your clothes…
Could you please share any yandere-themed Boothill content? I'm really interested!
TW: mild descriptions of gore, stalking to your workplace (it's unclear whether you know Boothill or not). Gender neutral.
If Boothill could only be one thing, he'd be vengeful.
It was a silly thing, he knew. To be vengeful in this society was akin to being vengeful on the entire world. But it felt so good, to put a silver bullet through the chest of a vampire, to haul bodies back to the crematorium and watch them burn. Boothill made it point to stand close enough to the heat to smell the melting flesh, even if it made his leather boots go soft.
He blows metaphorical smoke off the top of his barrel, spinning the revolver back into its holster (Boothill had always enjoyed being a little dramatic). The corpse - already a nameless, faceless individual fading into the long line of its predecessors - topples backwards, sliding down the wall and leaving a smear of blood down it, black as the night.
"One down, a million more to go," Boothill mutters to himself with a grin.
He hoists the body over his shoulder, willfully uncaring of the passers-by skirting around him on the pavement. Let them fear, he thought to himself. Let them see. This is the vengeance Boothill would bring down on those filthy, worthless creatures.
Because what could ever bring him closer to bringing his little girl back from the dead?
He shakes his head, tossing the body into the open boot. He'd given those muddle-fudging thoughts their time. If they wanted to get him again, they'd have to catch him first.
The sticky city air whisks his hair away from his face. Boothill whistles a jaunty, tuneless handful of notes. Perhaps he'd stop by the office district just to see you. The thought has the corner of his lips quirking upwards like a ditzy teenage girl.
Boothill would be hard-pressed to even begin why he'd picked you out from the crowd. Perhaps it was something about your energy, or your hair, or your dress. To the indiscernible eye, you would've been just another member of the workforce on the street, with your crisply pressed shirts gone limp by the end of a work day.
But there was something about you that glittered, like the promise of an uncut gem under all that rough. And Boothill liked rough. But he liked shiny things more.
He pulls to a stop by the pavement. Your office building towers before him, all glass and lights like every other office building around it. It was around now you'd be getting off work.
Boothill fingers the trinket he'd nabbed from the corpse, turning it over and over, imagining you holding that same trinket in your uncalloused hands. He'd taken care to polish the blood from it before it could dry, but - he brought it to his nose - the scent of vampire still lingered. He wrinkles his nose.
It'd have to do. It wasn't right to show up to a lady's doorstep without a gift.
He drums his fingers on the door, and nearly misses the scent that passes him by in the crowd.
Vampire.
All the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Boothill sits up pencil-straight. Not here, not now. Irrationally, he thinks, are they here for you?
It takes another heartbeat for him to pick out the figure. It isn't difficult, considering his significant larger frame than the rest of the caffiene-addled crowd. Yellow hair tapering to red at the ends. Boothill narrows his eyes. This one isn't on his files.
And- is that-
You appear down the steps, and your face lights up. No. No. No.
It becomes increasingly clear who you're beelining towards as the vampire gets closer, and embraces you in a hug. And as if to rub salt into the wound, he cups your cheek and presses a light kiss on your lips.
The pendant snaps in his fist.
Boothill was on the hunt once more.
for more posts on the "vampiric" au, please check my pinned post!
charity event!
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pricing: USD$2 for 300 words. (anaxa's part in this post is 266 words for a feel.)
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things i write: nsfw, yandere, wlw. most hsr + twst, as well as select genshin characters. max 2 characters per slot i.e. threesomes.
things i won't write: scat, piss, hard gore, child/child-coded characters i.e. arlan, misha etc, amab!reader. i retain the right to turn down any commission as i see fit.
