thatanimeramenchick

INFJ - 25 - Yandere Writer - Requests Open - MDNI

[thatanimeramenchick]

Requests Are Open!

Writing Rules here!

Fandoms

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- Amnesia

- Axis Powers Hetalia (Regular and 2p)

- Brother’s Conflict

- Code Geass

- Date Everything

- Death Note

- Diabolik Lovers

- Fruits Basket

- Helluvaboss/Hazbin Hotel

- K-pop Demon Hunters

- Kakegurui

- Kamisama Kiss

- The Legend of Zelda

- Snow White with the Red Hair

Updated Masterlist

The Amazing Digital Circus

Caine Headcannons

Caine and Feminine Male Trans Reader

Date Everything

Hector Headcannons

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss

Adam Headcannons

Adam x Reader Oneshot

Alastor Headcannons

Alastor and Angel Reader

Alastor and Eternal Separation

Alastor and Ex-Wife Reader

Alastor and Failed Rescue

Alastor and Lucifer Rivals with Human Reader

Alastor and Vox Rivals

Alastor and Vox with Powerful Reader

Blitzo Headcannons

Human Alastor and Runaway Wife

Lucifer Headcannons

Lucifer and Hellhound Reader

Sir Pentious Headcannons

Vox Headcannons

Vox and Apathetic Reader

Vox and Fallen Angel Reader

Vox and Submissive Reader

Alastor x Ex-Owner Reader

Part 1 - Part 2

Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader

Part 1 - Part 2

Vox x Secretary Reader Series

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Alternate Ending

Hetalia

America x Reader Oneshot

Canada 2p! Headcannons

European Headcannons

Nordics Headcannons

Canada x Reader (Side of Russia) Series

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Kamisama Kiss

Kuruma Headcannons

Mizuki Headcannons

Tomoe Headcannons

[thatanimeramenchick]

Can I ask you something, Yandere? Alastor, with the reader, his wife, one day while cleaning the house while Alastor was at work, discovered his secret… and the clever reader, in this situation, what did she do? Did she talk to the police? No, because she's a woman and the worst that can happen is they'll call her crazy and have her committed on suspicion of hysteria… Did she confront Alastor? Also no, because, like a serial killer, in the reader's mind, she thinks she'll die if she exposes him… so the reader decides to run away, grabs some clothes and escapes, and since Alastor is at work… Now imagine that Alastor returns home after work and doesn't find his wife, no clues, nothing, as if she had disappeared. What could happen?

Yandere Human Alastor - The Reveal

A/N: Oooooh, I like this, anon. I can work with this.

Word Count: 2,608

CW: Light Gore, Aggressive Kissing and Dubious-Con Touching

The evidence of your disobedience lay on the floor in a million tiny crystallized pieces. You had decided you would surprise your husband, as it was nearing your anniversary, with cleaning up his office. You knew he always put up such a fuss when you so much as walked into it, let alone had the audacity to touch anything, but you had told yourself you would be careful to put back the paper exactly where he had left it no matter how inconvenient or impractical it seemed to you. All you were doing was removing the thick layer of dust on the furniture and wiping out the drawers in the writing desk. When he realized how clean it was and not a single thing was out of place, you were sure he’d be all smiles.

Well, now regret was filling your chest until it felt heavy as a sack of Carolina rice. Not because of the broken glass though. Alastor was patient and not known for his bad temper. You knew he would be quite upset when he saw you had directly ignored him by going into his office, even with good intentions, but you had figured he’d probably just give you the silent treatment or pointedly leave you at home while he went out to drink. These were things he had done previously when you had provoked his ire.

No, the broken glass was honestly completely inconsequential when you saw at the very, very back of the main desk drawer’s false wood backing were the white bleached bones of what looked like human teeth.

What in all that was holy and unholy were those… things doing hidden in the back of your husband’s desk? You probably wouldn’t have ever seen it if you hadn’t been wiping the backing so hard that you had accidentally pressed in just right and it fell back. But why would he have that? You knew that your parents generation had been eclectic and occulty and superstitious, and heaven knows you remember your Grandma saying when she was a young woman people lined up for miles to see the unveiling of a mummy corpse downtown. But this was different. Alastor had never shown any proclivities to such things before.

Shaking, you put the panel back, telling yourself you must have mistaken it, misunderstood something. Maybe, despite their large size and awfully omnivore shape they weren’t even human. The back of your mind though was nagging at you insatiably. This just felt wrong in your gut, in your “women’s intuition.” You weren’t sure if you even could ask him about this because you knew he was going to be irritated at your snooping around were he didn’t want you to, let alone want to answer a question about said snooping.

You picked up the larger pieces of glass with your bare hands before sweeping the same area three times over. Just in case, you washed it over with soap and warm water to pick up any of the tiny pieces. As you scrubbed you entered a sort of daze, just scrubbing and scrubbing mindlessly, or perhaps to be more honest, with your mind completely preoccupied. Memories start floating in.

“What are you doing with those?”

“I’m just throwing them out. I barely have space to cook with them all out. Wait, Alastor-!”

“I’m not finished with these yet. I’ll put them in my office.”

“They’re all so gruesome though! I mean look at these headlines, five missing in the last two months, foul play suspected? That has to be exaggerated.”

“It’s quite the dangerous world out there. You’d be surprised if you knew just how depraved the average man was.”

Wondering.

“Darling, why weren’t you home last night?”

“I was at work, you know that.”

“Doing what? I tuned in, and you weren’t even on the air. They had that clown on again.”

“Being a radio star isn’t just the performance, dearest, I have to help with scheduling and planning and talking to producers. All the boring stuff you wouldn’t want to hear about.”

Wondering.

“Out to dinner again? Can’t I come with you?”

“It’s just a few of us old pals hanging around over drinks. You’d be bored out of your mind. Not a single woman to talk to.”

“Can you at least tell me who you’ll be with?”

“Oh just some of the old producers and their families. You met them a few months ago at that Christmas party.”

Wondering.

“Where is your shirt?”

“I have half a dozen shirts, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“The one I made for you last month, the brown one. I haven’t seen in the laundry in ages.”

“Oh that’s right, I forgot to tell you, it ripped. I had to throw it away.”

“Alastor! That cloth was very expensive! I could have easily mended it. It was one of my favorites.”

Wondering.

You knew what you had thought.

You had been questioning if he had been having an affair. He touched you so little and when it was it was often overly chaste. The missing time and vague answers all in the name of “keeping the mystery alive.” Perhaps that nagging had been the real reason you had crept into his office and “dusted,” you had wanted to find that love letter, that lock of hair, that fading photograph. You had been sure that shirt was in a lover’s apartment, the one he must be spending all those late nights away at. That wasn’t right though.

Suddenly, as if awakened with no warning in the middle of the night, you stopped scrubbing and threw the scrub brush down so hard into the water it splashed back up into your face a little. Leaving the mess there, you stood and walked over to the desk again. It was strange. You knew your body was trembling because your vision shook, but you couldn’t feel anything but a numb nothingness. You reached out again to the desk and this time deliberately pressed on the panel trying to get it off. When the unsteady hands proved unsuccessful, you roughly gripped at it and yanked until it was forced off, some of the weak, lighter wood splintering. It ripped your flesh, a small trail of blood falling from your middle finger.

There in the pile of teeth, which you hadn’t noticed before, was the silver band of the man you had only met once at a very faint Christmas party, the missing brother of your husband’s boss.

Your husband wasn’t an adulterer.

He was the serial killer who had been roaming the streets of New Orleans.

---

Well, that had been a productive night.

Finally, after numerous, messy attempts, four occult books, and at least six corpses littering the premises, Alastor had made contact with the other side. He wouldn’t have necessarily called himself overly ambitious, but Alastor had always been known for weaseling ways into getting what he wanted and in many ways deserved. After all, with all that he had been deprived of in this life just because of the poverty of his mother, the irresponsibility of his father, and the shade of his own skin, what was so wrong with playing dirty to feel some semblance of pleasure, of joy, of something at all?

And he had wanted to ensure that feeling lasted well into eternity.

He was in the brightest imaginable spirits as he walked home, humming. He had to ditch another shirt, as this one had been coated in blood after his recent kill. You would be annoyed if you found out, but maybe if he spent some money on a similar one, you wouldn’t notice? Or maybe he could distract you in some other way. You were a woman at the end of the day, and some old fashioned romance in the vein your courting days would surely delight and surprise you, especially if he indulged you with a kiss or two. It did amuse him to see you get flustered and shy on the rare occasions he showed you such blatant affection. He was in quite the good mood, and with a bottle of wine and some flowers, he was ready to come home and celebrate his triumph over dinner.

So imagine his surprise to come to find the house dark and empty on a Sunday night. It wasn’t as if you had never been there at all. Your evidence lingered in the finely painted ceramic washbasin, embroidery lying in a basket, and your favorite hat still on its hook. The floor even had your stray strands of hair coating it. But you yourself were gone, without even the usual note of “Off to market” lying on the table.

When he was met with the reason why, his heart stopped with the first spike of real fear he had felt in years. There on his desk, the hidden panel was torn apart, dried blood covering the surface of his desk, and the evidence of his crimes sitting out in the open. For the briefest second, he could feel the raw adrenaline of horror rising inside of him.

“Fucking hell!” he cursed before kicking the nearest desk leg.

Could that demon he had been talking to somehow have done this? Reached out to you and shown you his crimes to speed about his death? No, impossible. It had taken so much work to even contact her, there was no way she reached you willy, nilly. No, this… he noticed the scrub brush and bucket of cold water still on the floor.

“Damn it, you idiot,” he said, cursing your own goodwill and himself. He knew he should have kept all of his souvenirs at the shack, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He had hated that bastard so much that he had wanted a personal reminder at the house, one he could look at, and it had given him a perverse thrill. Knowing that in a respectable home, the remains of that pompous idiot were rotting, no one the wiser. He had gotten too cocky, not even buying a lock for the desk or the room.

His first thought had been that you must have gone to report him, but a quick inspection of the house revealed your suitcase was gone, along with the three whole dollars in cash you kept around the house for emergencies. He told himself you were so timid that it was likely you had simply been spooked and run off in your state of fear and confusion. You might not have even pieced together the full extent of what he had done, if he was lucky.

As his emotions cooled down a little at this realization, he started thinking more logically. Perhaps he had been neglecting you a little bit. He had been spending quite a lot of time on his hobbies, especially with all the preparations for that ritual of his. Now that it was out of the way though it was time to refocus. With such a clear, desperate cry for attention, it was time to go back to giving you the proper attention and care you deserved and very clearly needed.

---

Your mother was housed in Arkansas, but the train station had already closed for the night. Out of necessity, you had booked yourself into a hotel nearby so that as soon as the first trains came by you could board one and be out of here. As you laid in bed though, it occurred to you that if Alastor was as dangerous as the papers had been making him out to be, going to your mother’s might not be the best idea. Where did that leave you though? Perhaps out west. Surely, Alastor would never suspect you’d headed out there.

You had the lamps turned down low in the room you were in, trying to ignore the thumping sounds of feet above you, and the shouting on the street. Unable to change out of your day clothes, you sat upright in a chair, foot tapping until exhaustion had forced you to sleep. It wasn’t until you heard something falling loudly across the wood floor that you jumped up, jerking from sleep.

For a minute, all you could see was the blackness of the room, but slowly, as your eyes adjusted, you caught the moonlight glinting near the hotel room’s bed, revealing your husband.

“Alastor!” you said, voice raspy from sleep, “Why, darling, I-I was just… I… I’m sorry, I just wanted to go downtown-”

“Don’t even insult the two of us with whatever attempt at a lie you were about to make. You’ve never been a good at that,” he said rising, “Your feelings have always been so obvious to me. You’re tired out of your mind to even be considering a lie that blatant.”

You couldn’t tell from his voice alone if he was angry or not.

“Then it should be clear what I’m feeling,” you whispered, “Look I-I didn’t say anything to anyone about what I saw. And I won’t! Don’t kill me, please. Whatever you did or didn’t do, I know nothing, and I don’t want to!”

He leaned against the wall across from you, his smile barely visible in the darkness.

“Ha, for the longest time, I didn’t want you to know either. I think part of me still wishes you didn’t, but... Marriage should be based on honesty, shouldn’t it? I think it’s high time we knew each other more fully, more intimately,” he said.

Alastor had always held you at an arm’s length, quite literally. The way he treated women in general always felt as if he viewed them as some idealized image to admire rather than another person to interact with, as if you were too pure for this world. At times, it had been annoying, grating, as he talked to you and teased you as if you were as ignorant and innocent as a child.

So it surprised you when he practically leaped upon you, pulling you close for the first time in ages. You were so unused to displays of affection that for a minute you believed he was going to strike you. Thinking he might be about to kill you, you try to scream before he silences it by kissing you. It had been so unexpected that every thought in your mind just instantly dissipated, even the fear. Alastor had never been one for kissing, and when he had the longest it had ever lasted was two seconds.

But now he was descending on you with them and not just your mouth. Rushed, clumsy even, he pressed his lips to your mouth, face, neck, holding you pressed so close that you could feel his heart racing under his shirt. You don’t think you’d ever seen him like this, even in your honeymoon phase.

“Alastor, stop,” you said during a respite, turning your face away.

“Stop? Your face is red, dear,” he murmured, “Remember, I know what you’re thinking. You can’t hide your true feelings from me.”

He nuzzled you, something you honestly could not recall when he had last done, and trembling, you felt your body betraying you, wrapping your arms around his frame. Was he manipulating you? Or perhaps he really meant what he said and viewed this as some twisted opportunity to connect himself to you on a deeper level, with his truest self. Either way, you were so overwhelmed emotionally, you couldn’t argue with him. Confused, frightened, as he moved to kiss you again, you found yourself reciprocating, letting him sweep you up into his arms.

[thatanimeramenchick]

You ever get to writing something, and you could post it now but if you wait and edit it and add more it will be so much better? But the waiting is torture because you want people to read it NOW? That's me right now.

[thatanimeramenchick]

can I just say I absolutely adore your vox fics! I cannot express that enough, like the amount of people that write vox all soft just throws me off but the way you write him is so accurate to his actual character and shows just how powerful and how manipulative he truly can be! could you perhaps write more for vox in hell with an obedient reader willing to sell her soul to him?

Yandere Vox x Submissive Reader

“It’s really that simple?” you asked.

Vox nodded, trying to keep the anticipatory grin on his face from taking up too much of his screen. Experience had taught him that looking too eager often backfired when trying to convince someone to sign a contract. From the look on your face though, not a single thing in the world was going to stop you from signing away your soul to him.

Oh, it had been easy. Too easy, arguably. He’d have to take the time to teach you to be a little more worldly wise after he acquired you, or else you might do something stupid

“Yep! It really is!” he said, “And think about it. With how unpredictable hell is and how powerful Overlords are, it’s really necessary, you know? Soul deals like this are really for your benefit more than anything else. They keep all the ordinary sinners safe from another Overlord just coming by and doing whatever they want to them.”

“Oh, wow, I never thought of it that way,” you said, finger pressed against your teeth as you flipped through the pages, “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Every once in a while you paused for a few seconds, eyes racing over the jumbled jargon before going back to flipping and re-flipping the pages endlessly, as if trying to convince him you had even the slightest idea of what was going on. After about a minute of awkward silence, Vox decided he needed to push this along. It was always better to be on the attack with this kind of stuff, especially when dealing with someone as wishy washy and weak willed as you had shown yourself to be the last few weeks.

“I know it’s long, so don’t feel the need to parse through it all now,” he said, “It’s mostly just filler that HR makes us put in now, you know how it is!”

“I just don’t know,” you said, “It’s a big commitment.”

He chuckled at that, not betraying a hint of annoyance or alarm at your hesitation.

“You got anything else you're planning to do? Baby, you’ve got eternity! What’s a couple years working at, what I should mention, is one of the most powerful and up and coming companies in hell! After its over you’ll have the experience to do anything you want in hell! Go anywhere, work anywhere, fuck, start your own company if you’d like,” he said before inking the pen for you and handing it over.

That seemed to be the last little push you needed as you finally bent over and finished signing your name on the dotted line. You wrote it out slow and neat, like you were in grade school tracing a worksheet, as if even now you were a bit unsure about your decision. As soon as your fingers lifted the pen off of the document, he snatched it away, knowing the ink hadn’t even dried yet. It was done, simple as that. It took all of his self control to not just start laughing with pure delight, especially when you smiled at him with the nervousness that always seemed to hang over you.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Vox,” you said, “I’ve been looking forward to working for you.”

“Oh no, thank you,” he said, gripping your hand and squeezing it until you were starting to grimace a little, “I’m can assure you the feeling is quite mutual.”

In his mind, this is Vox at his best, and this game would be the easiest for him to win. Someone who already is a bit weak willed and caves under gentle pressure would be putty in his hands. After having set his sights on you and figuring out what you want, it would be all to easy to make you his in record speed.

Once you’re under contract, he’ll make sure to work things to his advantage to get into your heart and position you into a convenient arrangement so he can “spend time” with you. He probably will read you as weak minded and ditzy, so he may plot out some romantic narrative for you to fall in line with, maybe even trying to make it seem like YOU were the one who had a crush on him and he was generously indulging you because he liked you so much. If you just fall in love with him “naturally,” it makes his life so much easier.

The honeymoon might come crashing down if you don’t reciprocate his more romantic affection or once his more controlling tendencies start to grate on you. If you’re really submissive naturally, he might not take your defiance very seriously or respect you enough to consider anything you do or say a real threat. At first, he will count on you being frightened enough that he will just need to intimate you a little to get you to be obedient. If restraint doesn’t work though, he has no doubt a little painful correction will work.

He’s not Valentino though. He’s not going to just start beating the shit out of you if you don’t do what he wants. Your life is just going to become quite uncomfortable and restricted until you’re willing to start giving him what he wants, with a bit of rough and tough treatment if he thinks you really deserve it. Since you were the submissive type, he threw in a lot of conditions that would have been left out of other sinner's contracts, as most other people would have known better than to sign over as much of themselves over as you had.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! Yes, I agree. I don't want him to be a total evil sadist, but I want him to definitely be an asshole. I mean, I literally remember the season 2 teaser and thinking "Wow, his smile is so evil looking. That's kind of hot."😅I'm sorry that this isn't longer. While I liked the request, I feel like some of my other stories with Vox have kind of explored this idea of a weaker, more submissive reader getting stuck with him, and I felt like a lot of what I was writing for this originally was kind of just rewriting the same story I wrote earlier. I also think if someone was TOO submissive, Vox would actually get bored of them, as much as he likes to win? Like he wants to win but there has to be something to actually conquer for him to enjoy it in a meaningful way. Anyway, sorry for the long rant, I hope it still was fun to read. I have some other Vox stuff I've been thinking about writing lately so hopefully there's more in the future.

[bambitek]

blub blub 🫧🦈

[thatanimeramenchick]

This makes me want to write a twisted yandere siren story with Vox, even though literally no one asked for it, but how can I resist when this kind of art exists? It would probably be a la Luz's Angelfish, which if you have not seen you absolutely SHOULD even though it's like a decade old.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Hi, if it's not too much trouble, can I request a mini story or a headcanon with Yandere Adam?

Yandere Adam x Reader Oneshot

Word Count: 3,145

You had first met him after a karaoke night at the pub Temperantia. It had been happenstance, a dare from a friend leading you to sing These Are the Days of Our Lives later by Queen, and afterwards he had approached you. He was free from the mask you had sometimes seen him wear in televised conferences and announcements, so you hadn’t recognized him as the important figurehead he was at first.

"Kick ass voice," he had said, “Never seen you here before. You just croak?”

You had laughed at that.

“No, not at all,” you had said, “I’m a minor angel. I just help play flute and sometimes sing part time in the choir. I don’t really sing that much though. Not a lot of what the humans call ‘sick days’ up here.”

"You don’t? Girl, you need put those vocals to use,” he had said, “You should hook up with our band. We've got the sickest gigs. Names Adam by the way.”

You had told him yours and the two of you had had quite a long conversation about favorite bands before breaking it off for the night. Well, perhaps you had also made out a little first, but it wasn’t as if any of your friends had needed to know that. It was after that that he had bragged about his position and you had somewhat recognized the voice and robes he wore bearing the giant “A,” a little ostentatious.

It had been nearly magical, it started so well, which was one of the reasons it was so hard to break it off now.

“Look, I’m sorry!” Adam said as you rolled your suitcase out of his apartment, “Just tell me what I’m doing wrong, and I can fix it.”

You didn’t answer, pointedly avoiding eye contact by looking at your phone. Eventually he pushes it down, demanding your attention.

“How can you expect me to fix this if you won’t even talk to me?” he asked.

“Please, Adam I am trying to be mature about this,” you said.

“Mature? You call practically ghosting and giving me the silent treatment MATURE?” he said, “How can you expect me to change or be what you need me to be if you won’t even talk to me.”

“The thing is, Adam is I have told you! Lots of times,” you snapped, “You just don’t listen.”

“I listen! I am so kick ass at listening!” he argued.

“Ok, you know what, if you’re so good at listening, why are the dishes still not done? Why do I see your dirty robes on the couch from here? And why do I always, always, always have to be the one to remind you, multiple times a week, to please stop wearing your shoes in the house right after I mopped?

“Are you for real? If you hadn’t noticed, I have one of the most important jobs in Heaven, protecting us from the threat of demons! I’m at work everyday talking with the high council about how to make sure our shields are top quality and all that!” he said.

“Angels and demons haven’t fought since the beginning of time!” you said, “There is no way a demon could ever in a million years break through any of our shields! It’s not possible!”

“Uh, yeah, duh, because I’m protecting us and constantly improving it,” he said, “So sorry if I’m a little too busy being a hero to always clean up after myself right away. Besides you’re so much better at it! I always just fuck it up. You know you’re happier when you do that shit yourself anyways.”

“I can not believe you just said- Adam, no, stop I don’t want to argue with you anymore. This is why I didn’t even want to talk about this. We’ve been over it a million times,” you said, rubbing your forehead, “Look, I just don’t think we’re compatible. And that’s ok. Not every person is meant to spend forever in paradise together. Let’s just appreciate the time we had and move on. Alright?”

“That’s a load of horse shit,” he said, “You and I are compatible! Beyond compatible, practically made for e- well, no. I mean, ugh, FUCK!”

He turned to the side and decked his fist into the wall, causing the gold surfacing over it to rip. The sudden violence caused you to jump back a bit. Darn it, were those tears in the corner of his eyes? Ugh, you had heard he’d been through some rough break ups in the past. Well. Guess, he could add this one to the list.

“Look, I’m gonna head out. I have some stuff packed, and the moving guy will be by. Could you please just let him in when he comes by? I know you can do that without me,” you said.

You turned to leave before he could say anything else to change your mind.

---

Adam managed to send the rest of your stuff to your new address, and you were getting ready for your first night out since breaking up. The key to a night out though was the accessories, and you and your best friend were digging through your boxes pulling out all of your best shoes, jewelry, and makeup.

“What about this?” said Evangeline, holding up a jade bracelet set.

“It’s cute,” you said, “But I don’t think it’s what I’m looking for. I need something that says single and ready to mingle. I want something a little more casual."

Heaven had a nice abundance of gems in a variety of sizes and styles, which was nice, but right now you needed something a little more casual. You open your jewelry box, seeing a lot of your stuff tangled from the no doubt jerky ride to your home. You sigh and pull up the first thing lying on top.

You held up a necklace, a piece you hadn’t remembered. It was a circle and inside were various squiggles into what looked almost like an “m” with extra humps. There were also small little stamps that almost looked like crosses inside and an arrow pointing up On the outside was an array of letters that didn’t quite spell anything out in particular to you.

“Mnomma? Mamoenay?” You murmured to yourself before shrugging and putting it on over your neck. It looked nice enough and wasn't so formal or as fancy as some of your other pieces. You touch the charm briefly before getting up. Tonight was your first night out as a free woman. You'd need all the luck you could get.

"I'm ready to go!" you called out, slinging your purse over your shoulder.

It was soon clear that this night out was exactly what you had needed. Dancing, food, laughing, and of course karaoke made you feel alive and free again. Bouncy and lighthearted in a way you hadn't since you last volunteered at the Mythological Animals Zoo and got to pet a unicorn. Evangeline seemed to be having a ball, talking to some humans about their social work on Earth. You were taking a break, eating some of the bar fries when a familiar voice reached your ears.

"Hey there, sexy," you heard.

"What in heaven are you doing here?" you asked.

"What, a guy can't go to a bar without any ulterior motives?" he said, "It's not like were in LA. I'm just here to have fun."

"Adam, I know you. You don't come to bars like this," you said, finally looking at him.

"Huh, shows how little you actually know about me," he said, "I go to places like this all the time."

"Ok, first off, they don't serve beer here, and second, the last three songs that played have been by Taylor Swift," you said, "You wouldn't be caught in eternal life in a place like this unless you had to be, and you know how I know? Because anytime I wanted to go somewhere like this, you shot it down."

"Are you seriously trying to start a fight in public?" he asked.

"I am not trying to start anything!" you said, "I'm just saying it's weird and a little creepy-"

"Who are you to say I'm creepy for wanting to see you again?" he said.

"Because I don't want to see you again!" you yelled, causing some people to look.

Fighting was rare in heaven, and when it occurred it was often fixed quickly and easily. The fact that Adam was dragging this out was awkward in a way you had never experienced before. Perhaps it was because he was human. Even in perfection they were still weaker than their counterparts who had known eternity from conception. You tried your best to regain your patience.

""I-I'm sorry, but you're making things weird. Now please, leave me alone," you said, "Go to a bar you actually like."

You walked away from the table you had been sitting at and drag Evangeline over to the dance floor. You pointedly find the first man within ten feet of you and start talking to and dancing with him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see

“Hey, what happened to your fingers?” Evangeline asked.

You glanced down to see some kind of red rash had formed over them.

“Oh, that’s weird,” you said, “That’s never happened before. Do you think I should see a doctor?”

There were plenty of them up here, though their work rarely had to be put to use. What was going on with you this week? This had to have been the worst week you've ever had since existing.

“I don’t know,” Evangeline said, “Maybe it’ll go away on its own though.”

"Yeah, it should, right?" you said, "I'll go see someone if it doesn't, I guess."

---

The rash did disappear, though it would appear again on occasion at the most random times, and not just on your fingers. Every once in a while it would also appear on your neck or collar. It always disappeared before you went to see a doctor though so you tried to brush it off.

Adam didn't try to contact you again, to your relief, and you were able to focus on yourself. You unpacked your stuff, and had found a few other things you hadn't remembered exactly, as was par for the course. More old jewelry, unfinished knitting projects, letters from old friends, books that you had been collecting aimlessly over the decades hoping to read them someday. Among them was one filled with art similar to your necklace. Huh, perhaps a gift from the same person? You placed it on your coffee table for decoration, the page with the same design on display, along with some lily of the valleys. Perfect.

It was also easier to forget about your bad breakup. You went out regularly with your friends, tried new things, even went on a date or two. Things were going smoothly peacefully even.

About a month into living on your own though, you got a knock on your front door. The last people you had expected to see was at your door, the Heavenly Officers of Protection with grim looks on their faces.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“You are being arrested for having demonic contraband in your possession,” an officer said, another one putting angelic steal laced handcuffs on your wrists.

“What? Demonic contraband?!” you said, “What are you talking about?”

“There have been reports that demonic objects have been found in your house and seen on your person," he said.

One of the angelic guards came over and snapped your chain off your neck, dropping the item in a box of angelic steel.

“A pendant with the sigil of the Deadly Sin Mammon,” said the guard, “Just touching it should make an angel’s skin burn, and yet you have been accused of touting it around the streets of heaven!"

“WHAT? A Deadly Sin??? Like a demon?” you asked as your dragged away, but no one bothers answering. You think back to the jewelry you had worn recently and remembered the necklace. Your finger had started forming that rash on the night you wore that it out. It had never occurred to you that it might be responsible for your situation.

You tried to ask questions, but they ignored you, shoving you into the back of the angelic police car to keep anyone from hearing you. This was Heaven, they couldn’t have you causing some huge scene. It would put a huge damper everyone else’s pleasantries if they saw a minor angel being dragged away for possibly committing a crime, something that you didn’t think actually happened up here.

---

You were in a cell in the dungeons of the heavenly palaces. Your wrists were bound with angelic steel, making it impossible to so much as fly. At least the rooms were clean and orderly and the food tasted good. You had been told they were planning to search your apartment tomorrow, and you had been hyperventilating, realizing that there also that book that you had found in your old stuff. If they saw that they'd think you were involved in some demonic scheme for sure! But where had you even gotten it? You did like to peruse old bookstores. Had it been bought and added to your collection and just forgotten about, the necklace included? But then how would it have gotten up here in the first place?

"You have a visit from the council," the angel guarding your cell said to you, "They should be here to tell you details of your impending trial."

You braced yourself, expecting the worse, when you were met with the last person you would have usually wanted to see. It was Adam. How odd it was to see him like this, draped in full robes and gloves with his mask on. He was at work, so you supposed it made sense he would be fully decked out in formal uniform, but it was still strange. You had been used to seeing him bare faced in public.

“Hey, know I’m not your favorite person right now, but I heard you were in a bind,” he said, “And I couldn’t help it. Pulled a few strings so I could come see if you were ok. Told them it's official business, but I mean, I won't tell if you don't."

“Adam!” you said with some relief, “Oh my goodness, thank you for coming to see me! I swear, I’m innocent! You know that, don’t you? You've seen that kind of stuff before at work, right? You know I don't have any, right?"

“I don’t know. I haven't seen it in person," he said, "But those pictures did make it look like the real thing."

“I do know though, that you would never possess something like that on purpose,” he continued, “Obviously there must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Thank you! Thank you for believing me,” you said, reaching through the bars to grab his robes lightly, “I would NEVER have worn that pendant if I knew it was demonic in any way. I swear! I just wish someone would believe me, that there was some way to prove it.”

“You know,” Adam started, voice Sera and I are tight, like tighter than an ANTM model’s ass. I could convince her that this wasn’t you, you know.”

“You’d really do that?” you said, fighting the urge to wipe at your tears.

You didn’t want to look any weaker and foolish than you already felt.

“Yeah, sure babe,” he said, before hissing, his face contorting, “I mean, at least I would, if we were friends. But I think I remember you saying you never wanted to see me again. So, like, don’t want to violate your rights or anything. You’re a strong, independent broad anyway. You got this figured out?”

“I- What?”

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll be FINE. It’s not like they have hard evidence against you or anything right. No other demonic material is in your house, right? Because even I can't help you then,” he said, “Nothing like any of those star thingies they call pentagrams or, I don't know, a dusty old demonic book full of symbols that they call grimoires. Those are all over Earth too, used to summon demons."

The look on your face must have been priceless because now, he can’t hold back his shit eating grin.

“Wait, you know?!… This is YOUR fault!” you yelled.

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down, babe!” he said, “Let’s not make accusations. You know SATAN is literally known for being an accuser and with what you’re getting brought to trial for, you can’t be too careful.”

“You filthy liar!” you gasp out.

This guy was part of the angelic army! While you didn’t think he had fought any demons like for real, you knew there was a heavenly embassy and hell and sometimes he talked with the leaders of hell. He also no doubt had seen hundreds of demonic pieces in his line of work. Of course he would be able to get memorabilia from hell or earth or at the very least make an accurate forgery.

“You sick, disgusting-” you started.

His hand reaches through the bars and grips your shirt, pulling you as close to him as you can. You can feel the metal against your skin, so cold it could burn you.

“Look, bitch, I’m trying to help you out here, something else no one up here seems ready to do. As someone with first hand knowledge, hell is somewhere you don’t want to go, and I’m the only one who can keep you from ending up there. So I might think twice before I say what you’re thinking. It's very possible someone took that book from your house before anyone saw it," he said, "but it's ALSO possible that that person still has it and could turn it in at any time if you decide to be a fucking pain in the ass about it.

“So what’s it gonna be?" he asked, "Not a lot of people know this, but as head of the angel army, we have to make visits down there all the time to make sure heaven stays safe. You might not be able to visit me, but since I care so much about you still, I’ll make sure I take plenty of time to visit you on my work trips.”

His voice burnt off like a flame. Though he wore his mask, you could see the light burning through his eyes with a fire that was anything but the holy or just light you would have expected from a leader of the angelic army. With the horns, indistinct dark features, and sharp teeth, it almost looked…

Demonic.

Like you were already in hell.

---

A/N: Writing is weird because I tried to write this so many times, and I could not write anything remotely decent to save my life, and suddenly it just all came to me one evening like at 12:15 AM. Hope you enjoyed it!

[thatanimeramenchick]

May I add you to my hetalia writers list ?

Absolutely! Thank you, it's an honor. You may want to clarify I only write Yandere x reader work though, haha. Thank you again, that's so sweet!

[melodylove-art]

Vote Hazbin Hotel for Best Soundtrack at AMAs

Click here to vote!

[thatanimeramenchick]

The reader discovers that Alastor, the Yandere, has been captured by Vox (the reader is unaware of Alastor's plans or the deal with Vox). The reader then invades the location to rescue Alastor (the reader princess will save her prince Alastor from Vox's evil clutches). Of course, the reader's plan fails, and now she too is trapped in a chair like Alastor, so ashamed that her plan failed that she can't even look Alastor in the eyes without blushing and feeling embarrassed… (perhaps he interprets this as a declaration of love from the reader for him, but the reader considers Alastor a friend).

Yandere Alastor and a Failed Rescue

This was awkward.

After hearing Alastor had been kidnapped by Vox, your immediate response had been to try to rally your less than enthusiastic hotel mates that you should save him.

“I think he can take care of himself just fine,” Husk had said when you brought it up, something that Nifty had nodded her head at.

“We were there,” Nifty said, “He obviously wanted to go with them!”

Husk had side eyed her when she had said that, but he hadn’t argue. Probably didn’t think it was worth the trouble, especially since he didn’t want to go anyway.

“Uh… I think if he needs help, we’ll know,” Vaggie had said.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Charlie had said, “I mean, he’s what, one of the strongest sinners in hell? You know, Alastor, always got something going on somewhere with… someone.”

Angel thought your suggestion was a suicide mission, and you hadn’t even bothered mentioning anything to Lucifer, who simultaneously intimidated you too much and probably didn’t care about Alastor anyway.

So, being the moron you were, you had decided to try to break into Vee Tower by yourself and use your own demonic powers to scale the glass walls. You had walked about halfway up before getting caught, consequently, why you were now also tied up to a sadly not rolling chair in Vox’s office next to Alastor.

“Honestly, you don’t even deserve the chair treatment,” Vox said, “Who do you even think you are? But I suppose you did have the balls and skills to scale up the side of the tower, so I’ll give you that. Did you really think though we wouldn’t have security set up for any intruders? God, I love how stupid you look right now. It would be almost cute if you weren’t such an uggo.”

You and Alastor sat in silence as Vox rambled about how foolish you were. Alastor wasn’t looking at you, his ears pinned back flatter than you had ever seen them, so much so that you were trying hard not to stare. Eventually Vox interrupted himself with his own epiphany.

“If I tell that princess about you, she’s going to freak out,” Vox said, “Hahaha! Can you believe that? She cared so little about you, Alastor, that she sent a one woman show to rescue you! I can’t wait to see her cry her makeup off again once I tell her. I’ve gotta tell Velvette.”

He zapped out after that, making an already uncomfortable encounter with Alastor just downright unbearable. The silence was just about physically painful.

“Sooooooo, I must look like a real idiot right now,” you mumbled.

“Well, I would be lying if I said you haven’t looked better,” said Alastor.

“I mean, if he beat you, I guess I should have known he would beat me,” you sighed.

“Vox did not beat me,” Alastor said, “Despite what that picture box is no doubt telling the entire city, I made a deal with him that is mutually beneficial. And he gets his rocks off parading around that he’s a winner, and I am simply feeding his egotistical, manchild delusions in exchange.”

“In exchange for what?” you asked.

“Now that is the question of the hour, isn’t it!” he evaded, “But come now, the very idea that you think I need help at all? Surely you have more confidence in me than that?”

Though Alastor had his characteristic smile on somehow, it was strained, and his cheerful voice came out sounded less like a baseball radio announcer and more like he was a high schooler rushing through a poorly memorized poem, forced. Something told you that he was putting on a bit more of a show for you than usual, or at least his the performance was taking more work.

“I just… I wanted to help you,” you mumbled.

The look he gave you was condescending but fond, and his voice grew softer now, some of that forced sound leaving.

“Well, misguided as it was, I am flattered to know you were thinking so much of me,” he said.

“I mean… It’s not that, I just- I guess everyone else certainly did. Ugh, no one would come with me to save you!” you said, “They didn’t think you’d need help, and I know you insist you don’t, but look at you! Tied up and… probably torturing you! You’re so thin, I bet he hasn’t fed you either since he’s such an asshole.”

You look at him now, though you know your face is flushed with the rush of embarrassment at having been so humiliated.

When you made eye contact with him, you must have looked stupid because he soon looked away, turning around in his luckily mobile wheeled chair, you supposed a privilege of being Vox’s… favorite enemy or whatever the fuck Alastor was or had been to him.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about me,” he said, face turned, “But I would be careful. You’re not wrong that Vox is ruthless, and if you don’t want to be on his bad side you need to do exactly as I say.”

Alastor, as I’ve mentioned before, hates to appear weak anyone, but especially to the person he likes. His image is everything. Being kidnapped by Vox and having it blasted everywhere is already such an ego blow that he is sacrificing for his own ambitions, but this personal humiliation in front of you? Oh, he’s going to be pissed, though he’ll probably try to hide it from you to not appear weak.

Vox better say his prayers if he hurts you at all during your captivity. Alastor will try to appear like he doesn’t give a shit about you around Vox because if Vox finds out Alastor has a crush on you your life is about to become extremely unpleasant. If torture is directed at you, once you’re all out of this, Alastor is going to make sure Vox is reduced to much less than an I-pad.

The singular positive of this experience is that now, in his mind, this has confirmed your affections for him. You must downright love him, if even that sweet hearted Charlie couldn’t muster up the urge to save him. And just look at you! You’re red as strawberry jello. It couldn’t be any more obvious if you had given him a handwritten note. Any future denials will be just ignored as bashfulness.

Scratch that, there's one more positive. You're extra emotional and senseless right now. He will try to use this “bonding” experience to nudge you into a deal to “protect” you and make sure nothing like this happens again, either the danger or personal humiliation.

After you are both freed, regardless of whether Vox put you through hell or not (though it’s likely he put you through at least a little), Alastor will be extra careful to make sure you're safe now and don't do anything stupid. If you refused to sign with him earlier and still won't now, he might push aside his restraint and abduct you. Typically this is a last resort, but it’s a risk he can’t take now that he's seen what your idiocy lands you in.

Honestly, could see this opening the door to a softer yandere experience for you than you might typically get from Alastor considering his sadistic personality. He likes seeing the object of his affections suffer, but like, only at his hands.

---

A/N: Sorry, I wish this was more yandere coded, but I feel like the real juice would be after the captivity. I kind of want to write something for that now, lol, but I have so many asks I feel like I should do those first. 😅

[thatanimeramenchick]

Hihi, would you right headcanons or maybe a drabble about Caine (tadc) x ftm femboy reader? I don't have any specifics in mind, I'd just like to see the thought explored

Caine and Feminine Trans Male Reader

Hello! You know what, anon, I'm in a good mood. This a blog, typically for the most part, devoted to only male yanderes and female readers (for actually several reasons, one being that I'm afraid I'm gonna fuck it up somehow and say something offensive or ignorant), and it is something I posted in my old rules that probably a lot of new followers over the years haven't seen tbh lol. Which is not anyone's fault. Anyway, I'm feeling generous though, so as an exclusive, ONE TIME offer, I am down to write this, specifically because I feel like with the world of TADC, it has a lot of interesting potential. I hope you enjoy it; I did try to do research on the subject before writing.

Trigger Warning: Unintentional Transphobia/Ignorance, Sexism

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, so despite Caine’s best intentions to make you as happy as possible in the circus, he will probably end up creating your own personal hell. Since Caine is a limited AI that appears to have been cut off from the internet and further knowledge since the ‘90s, his full understanding of things like gender and trans identity is going to be primitive at best. He is going to do his best to match your body and environment to what he thinks you will like.

Characters in the circus can’t have sex, so it’s pretty easy to assume they don’t have any of the characteristics that would allow sex to happen. Therefore, you won’t have to worry about misgendering in that sense. Seeing you are excessively interested in feminine things though and depending where exactly you are in your identity journey, he might get confused and just think you want to be/are a girl. Even if he knows you're a guy, he might just group you with the women of the circus or lump you all together when talking about you since you're feminine. If you try to explain yourself, he’ll probably understand, but it might take a few times to get it across since he’s so scatter brained and a bit self-centered.

There is a serious risk of things swinging the other way though. After learning this information or even when you first arrive, again depending where you are in your identity journey, Caine is going to be on the opposite side of this in attempts to please you, especially if he is romantically interested in you. Oh, you’re a guy? Swell! Here’s the most stereotypical masculine bedroom with sports memorabilia, casual guy clothes, and car stuff. He might make adventures that are centered around traditional "guy" things like football, weight lifting, and wood working. Regardless if you’ve talked to him about this before or not, he’s probably going to brush you off. Being a man as opposed to a woman is such a big part of your identity according to the data he has/what you told him, so this stuff should make you happy!

Given how poor his therapy session with Zooble went, don't get your hopes up if he wants to talk to you about how miserable you are. Any changes he provides for you will result from his own realization and understanding of the situation. He's an AI, a virtual god of this world, so he knows what's best for you, right?

When he realizes that he likes you on a deeper level than he does the other members, he’s going to reinterpret all of your previous interactions. He’s going to think your constant requests and asks for changes to just be asking for his attention. I mean, obviously, why else are you complaining so much? You just want an excuse to talk to him.

Caine seems to be somewhat traditional in romantic roles. He will like seeing himself as taking the lead of a more feminine partner, so you being a femboy is going to be something he likes in that respect. It gives him even more of an inner rationalizing to direct you, as that’s something that a more feminine partner would want, in his mind.

[3hkowalski]

He's about to drop the worst Youtube apology video

teeth shut so his eyes can peek at the notes

[thatanimeramenchick]

The exact six dislikes is cracking me up so much.

[hodddaad]

Extreme cold

hunger

fear

and a complete lack of security—

[hodddaad]

this is our current situation, mine and my siblings My old grandmother, out in the open '.

[hodddaad]

These feelings are incredibly difficult and painful for us...💔

I hope you can help us by donating what you can and sharing our story with the world so that someone might help us. Thank you all

[hodddaad]

Our campaign has been verified by gazavetters Under number 314

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Canada x Reader Pt. 3

The third and final part of this series.

Trigger Warning: Stalking, Murder, Sexism

Word Count: 3,432

Part One - Part Two

---

It had been about three days since Ivan had been arrested. Now that any threat was passed, you told your sister about what had been happening. How he had come by pretty regularly, always seemed a little off, left letters for you to find, MAILING them to your house. Sam was pretty upset that you hadn’t told her sooner about what was going on.

“You literally could have died,” she said, “If you were going to have him at your house, you should have told the authorities or at least me and Bill first. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Ok, well I was under a lot of stress, so obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly,” you protested, “I still am really on edge. I still make a co-worker walk me to my car after work, and I don’t even think anything is going to be there.”

The two of you were walking out of her car to the police station. Apparently they wanted to ask a few more questions, as well as give you some information. It sounded like after everything there was a pretty serious case being built up. When you walked into the building, two officers stood there, wearing the slick black uniforms of all Toronto police officers. One was a blonde older woman, the other a young man with slicked back black hair. After taking you aside and thanking the two of you for coming, they got right into the business of why you were here.

“Thank you for coming here today, F/N,” the male officer said, “We hate to have to bother you, but there are some things we are going to need to discuss before we move forward with the law.”

“Don’t you have enough evidence to charge this pervert?” Sam asked.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite,” said the male officer, “We have reason to believe that this is going to be more than just a criminal harassment level stalking case.”

“Well, he was being very aggressive me,” you said, “So would that make it attempted assault?”

“Well, that is something we could also add to the charges, but that actually wasn’t why we brought you here. We actually might need you as a witness in a major criminal case. The biggest Canada has seen in decades,” the other officer said, finally speaking.

“Wait, what do you mean?” you asked, stomach turning.

“How much do you know about the Toronto Eraser?” she asked.

“I-I mean, it does sound a little familiar,” you said, thinking back to all the episodes of Deadly Intent you had listened to.

“He’s a serial killer,” the blonde officer said, her head cocked, “As far as we know has murdered three women in the last decade. No particular type of victim other than that they were all professional young women in their twenties. We honestly don’t know even the identity of any of the victims except for one, and that’s why we suspect it’s the same person. That and there were some interesting items found in his home. All the victim’s bodies had a similar carving to the one that you had in your letter, and the one eventually identified victim had similar letters in her- Ma’am, are you ok?”

You had slumped over a little, head in your hands. You felt so sick, you couldn’t even swallow. Your vision was starting to blur over, but it wasn’t from tears. Your eyes were spotting black.

“I’m sorry, I think I just need a minute,” you murmured, wanting to rise but finding your legs heavy as steel bars.

“Sis?” Sam asked, “Do you need some water? I think she needs something to- Oh, God, she’s falling over.”

---

After a bit more interviewing and a not too in-depth explanation of what being called on for trial might look like, Sam was permitted to take you back home. The two of you drove home in shell-shocked silence. Gone was your earlier joking tone about the situation, though you had never really found it funny. You just didn’t want to trouble people with a problem that couldn’t have been fixed. The seriousness of what had almost happened to you though seemed to have fully dawned on the two of you though.

“Do you think it would be ok if I came over tomorrow?” you asked as Sam pulled into your driveway.

“Sis, you know you can come over anytime,” said Sam, “And I hope you know now that you can tell me anything. ANYTHING. No matter what.”

She gripped your hand so hard that her knuckles looked like an old lady’s, white and veined.

“Can… can you stay for a little bit before you go see the kids?” you asked, “Maybe have some coffee? We don’t have to talk about things, I just want to be with someone.”

“We have an hour before Bill needs to head to work,” she said, “I can absolutely stay for a little bit.”

The two of you got out of the car. After you unlocked the front door, she walked in to make some coffee while you picked up the newspaper on your front step and absently grabbed the mail in your mailbox. You locked the door behind you as you flipped through credit card advertisements until you saw the most awful sight in the world, made worse only by confirmation after being ripped open.

“Woah, what was that? Is everything ok?” you heard your sister yelling from the kitchen. It took you a good minute to even process the words though.

No! But they arrested him!

How many more are in our justice system suffering while criminals face no consequences?”

It was impossible.

But there it was. On the floor, opened clumsily was another letter, and on the bottom was that cursed, abstract marking that had been on all the previous ones.

“H-h-he’s s-still out there,” you told your sister, voice hoarse and shaking, “H-he’s going t-t-to k-kill me!”

As you spoke, she sat beside you, talking in a steady, soft voice.

“Ok, Sis,” she said, “I know. It’s been a really stressful week. I could never, ever come close to even imagining what you’re going through, but you have to relax. Ok? Let’s think logically. He was just locked away. It’s very possible he sent this before he was arrested, and it’s just arrived now.”

She picked it up with an air of level-headed confidence that you could tell was manufactured. Her hand was trembling just barley as she brought it into another room, and you heard her turning on your home office paper shredder.

“Don’t you think the police might need that?” you asked.

“They already have so many I don’t think one more is going to matter. And I’m not having them come all the way out here and stress you out again for a tiny smidge of evidence. Or risking you reading that thing,”

It took a few minutes for your breathing to still back to normal and your heart to stop pounding. As it slowed, the logic of what Sam said earlier registered. Obviously, Ivan must have sent this in the mail right before the arrest happened. That’s why it had shown up a few days after his arrest. That was the only explanation that made any sense. There was no way that they had caught the wrong man. You couldn’t believe anything else.

---

According to the analog alarm it was 3:04 the morning on a Saturday.

It sounded like someone whispering your name, and while at first you thought it was insanity from being half awake after 2:00 AM, when you heard it again, you knew it wasn’t just you. Suddenly, you weren’t half awake anymore, you were full awake.

“Hello?” you called out nervously.

You heard it again.

“Who the hell is in my house?” you yelled.

On second thought, you didn’t want to know when you saw someone shuffling from behind the large curtains covering your bedroom door, a large shadow stepped out. You shot up in your bed, backing away into the wall. This was bad. You should’ve asked Sam to stay the night. She would have said yes, she would have- Wait.

“…… MATTHEW?!” you asked.

You said it like you had just been told a piece of juicy Southern church gossip, and you couldn’t believe who had just committed the latest, scandalous sin.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you heard him saying, voice nervous, rushed to placate and comfort you.

“Why else would you be in my bedroom at three in the morning if not to hurt me in some way?” you asked.

He paused for a second, as if trying to communicate this as well as possible.

“You remember me,” he finally said.

“Matthew, we have talked like, multiple times. Of course I remember you,” you said, “If you had wanted to make an impression this was not the way to do it.”

“No, I mean-, ugh,” he said, looking awkward.

He looked ready to sit next to you before pausing. Rather than getting so close to you, he sits on a desk chair, crossing his legs.

“I know you can’t possibly understand, but you remember me. You SEE me. Look, I know this was meant to be,” he murmured, “And the way everything was so neatly taken care of with your that friend of yours.”

“You mean, Ivan wasn’t-?” you gasped.

“Oh no, he was. He’s a creep,” Matthew said, “And he’s a little too blatant with his intentions. Believe me, if I hadn’t intervened something really bad could have happened to you. I didn’t even have to try, all I mentioned was the idea of leaving letters on your car for you, and he jumped on it like he was in fucking heat or something. Don’t look at me like that! It’s true. And it worked out really well for us, with how trusting he was, seeing as his house is practically wrapped in yellow tape.”

Every possible negative human emotion in existence must have been coursing through you at that moment, and you couldn’t give voice to a single one of them. You opened your mouth and couldn’t manage to make any sound other than something resembling your back gate when it got a little stuck in the humid weather.

“H-how can you say that?” you finally manage to gasp out, “I-I… doesn’t this mean you’re-?”

You can’t even say it. But you don’t have to. For all his shyness, all his meek demeanor, for the briefest moment on his face, you saw the shadow of a smirk on his lips. It’s so subtle that you wondered if you just full on imagined it.

“I don’t think you should worry about that,” he said.

“Oh my gosh,” you said, “Y-you killed three other women!”

Before you could wake your neighbors he came over and knelt over, pressing a hand to your jaw and another over your mouth. He didn’t cut off your breath, but he did silence you.

“Woah, woah, let’s calm down!” he said, “It’s like three in the morning, ok? It would be rude to wake up everyone in the building. I don’t want to have to gag you. I mean the people right next door are, what, like eighty? That would just be rude. Look, we will have plenty of time to talk here about… stuff. Right now though, I think you should just calm down and let me take care of things.”

He rose as he finished that, eyeing you carefully to make sure you didn’t start screaming. Eyes still on you, he goes into the hallway and drags in what looks like a plastic container of gasoline. He pours it onto your carpeted floor in a trail.

“You’re going to burn me alive?” you choke out. The scientifically believed worst way to go.

His surprise catches you just as off guard.

“What? God, no! What kind of monster do you think I am?” he said, “Oh did you-… I’m not killing you.”

THAT got your attention.

“I’m sorry?” you said.

“Why would I kill you?” he said, “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met and liked that actually remembers be. Hell, the only one who remembers me period. I’m not killing you. That would be insane.”

He throws the plastic container over to the side, letting it bang against the floor.

As he finished his words, he came over and gagged you. So much for what he said earlier. You could sense he was still a little irritated, as the cloth was so tight on your mouth, it felt like it was crowding your teeth. Clearly he’s dipped it in something, as already you’re feeling lightheaded, though it was also likely the gas in the room was doing a number on you.

“Just need to light the gas stove,” he said as he dragged you downstairs to the front door, “And we will be out of here. Should burn up your ring cameras too, so we don’t have to worry about anyone hunting you down and dragging you away, though I did smash them too.”

Those fading, spinning words were the last thing you heard before it all went dark.

---

You had awoken in room with no windows and only one door locked from the outside. You had no idea if you were in a finished basement, attic, or just a random closed off room in the house, but either way you had freaked out. There was some light furniture like a bed, small table, and chairs. Over the next day or two or three, you weren’t entirely sure on the time to be completely honest, he had been attentive to some extent. Delicious food was always delivered regularly as well as clean clothes to change into. He seemed busy for a while until he finally took the time to sit down and try to have an evening with you. Talk, play chess, read, something, anything hinting of an almost romantic normalcy.

“You know, I noticed you didn’t really ever take out board games from the library, but I saw you had a few in your house-” he said.

“You really think Clue would be appropriate after what you’ve done?” you asked, “The police told me what you did, you know? The extent of how you “erased” your victims.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that,” he said, the only answer he’d given to any probing questions.

“I’d like to know if I am also going to have my face cut off-” you started.

“It’s not what you’re making it sound like,” he interrupted.

“And what am I making it sound like?” you asked.

“That I just tortured a bunch of innocent women!” he said, hurt bleeding into his tone, “That I-I killed in cold blood. Look, anyone I ever did away with was practically begging to be put out of their misery.”

The look of shock on your face must have gotten to him, because his voice only got more desperate as he went on.

“They weren’t like you. They were hardly even women, just a bunch of shallow sluts,” he said, “Just because I’m not the most handsome or exciting or extroverted, they brushed over me. I was a non-entity, not worth remembering. Not even a name or a face. I might as well have been, the sidewalk to them. Well, they got to know what it’s like to be erased.”

It was silent for a while after he said that, the words resting between you, like a badly cooked meal. Disgusting, prepared with real thought and effort but despicable and inedible nonetheless. Perhaps a real friend would eat it and say how good it was. Lucky that you weren’t Matthew’s friend.

“You’re an idiot,” you said.

“I-what?” he said, eyes widening in surprise, clearly not expecting this input.

You were going to die. You were signing your death warrant here, and he would get rid of you and when they found you you’d be as shriveled and discarded as the dried up remnants of fruit found in compost. But you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it, showing your own rage.

“You’re wrong,” you continued, “You think you, that you, somehow erased them, but you haven’t. You’ve done the opposite. You’ve done something that will keep them living as a memory forever for the people who cared about them. They’ll be far more loved and remembered at their worst than you ever have been at your best.”

He stared in silence before gripping the front of your shirt and yanking you close, so close you can practically feel the sweat on him. Damn it. You’d done it. You had a chance to work this in your favor and now because of your big mouth and needing to prove a point he was finally going to kill you too. When he speaks, it’s calm. He doesn’t yell, which honestly, you don’t think he’s even physically capable of doing if he had wanted to, but you still detect an undercurrent of anger in his tone.

“Those women’s ‘memories’ live on as an extension of myself,” he said, “You know exactly how this works. Come on, I know you’re smarter than this. You’ve listened to every true crime podcast and seen every documentary out there. Do you think anyone cares about who Jack the Ripper killed? Honestly? Did you ever watch a serial killer documentary series because you gave a shit about who they murdered other than to see what it told you about the killer? Can name even a single person who was killed in any major serial killer case? And I know those other cases didn’t do as bang up a job as I did at hiding their victim’s identities. Face it, those people don’t give a shit about those women. I cared more about them than you ever did.”

“No-that’s not, that’s not true!” you said, “I-I…”

“And you think I’m sick? I know you’re just eating this up. I mean by your standards, you’ve been given a golden opportunity, living in your own true crime fantasy,” he said, his words soft but fast and burning you, “Having the undivided attention of what to you would be a celebrity.”

You blanched, looking down in what you told yourself was anger, but you wondered if it was shame. Was it true? Was that all it had been to you, entertainment? And now that’s all you would be. Entertainment. A footnote.

“And I’m going to do you a real favor,” he said, “Unlike those other women, I know you care, you feel. And I’m going to make sure every person in Canada remembers your name. You’ll be in every paper as ‘just the sweetest librarian, loved by all. A real shame she lost her senses and burned her own house down!’”

He came over to you, too close, too in your face. You can see his eyes, the soft madness lurking. They lean forward until his nose is almost touching yours.

“You might not understand now, and that’s fine,” he said, “I have all the time in the world to convince you to see things from my point of view.”

To your horror, he moved his face even closer until his lips start pressing lightly onto yours, which was the last thing in the world you ever would have wanted. You could feel his nose lightly brush your cheek, the heat of his breath grazing your skin. It was tender and soft, much more than you ever would have fathomed from someone so deranged and cruel. After a few seconds you jerked away and went behind the wooden chair, as if to shield yourself. He let you pull away without a struggle, though he looked a bit disappointed.

“You act like I’ve hurt you or something,” he muttered, “You’re… you’re just surprised is all. I’m sure it’s all a shock, but you’ll come to your senses. It’s so obvious we were meant to be. From the moment we started talking, I knew. And you will too, eventually. You can’t fight fate.”

After he said that, he turned around, as if to ignore you, and he went back to looking through his board game options. Despite the overwhelming urge to start beating him with something, you sunk into the wooden chair instead. This guy was clearly a pro. It was going to take some foresight if you ever wanted to get out of here. Because despite what he said, you did want to.

There was no way you didn’t.

---

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this. Please ream me if it's too OOC, which is not something I feel I've ever struggled with in my writing. I feel like my vision for this story is conflicting with canon characterization though a little, though I tried my best. It kind of turned into an AU version? Anyway, whoever originally requested this, I hope you are happy with it! Thanks for all of your patience.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Can you please please PLEASE do anything with Yandere Canada?? And if you do 2ps, I'd love a 2p Yandere Canada!!!

Yandere 2p Canada Headcannons

Ok, Anon, I love you but let's just chill a little bit ok, lol. Good things take time, but we will get there. I moved to South Korea last month (I feel like an AO3 writer saying this), so that's one reason things have been taking time. Anyway, here's some headcannons to tide you over until I finish the story.

---

Mathieu is a lot more similar to his Nordic neighbors in this version. He's more distant, emotionally cold, and socially awkward. He hasn't had a lot of experience with romance and women, so he is going to have a difficult time expressing his interest to you. He might not tell you anything at all if he's feeling particularly shy, and just leave what in his mind are really obvious hints that he's into you, like anonymous gifts that OBVIOUSLY are from him.

Given what an emotional snowbank he is, he'd be attracted to someone on the warmer side. A girl with a sense of adventure and soft generosity would appeal to him. While he likes his quiet life, even a mundane routine needs room for spontaneity and personality, as long as it's carefully contained in a way he likes.

He's gonna kidnap you. It's not an if, it's a when. The total lack of social skills with dating is just going cause frustration after frustration in gaining your attention until he decides that it would literally be easier to just carry you off than to try to maintain a normal relationship.

Isolation is one of his biggest strengths. He's very self sufficient and off the grid, so once he decides to carry you off you're going to be very far away from anyone who could possibly help you. If you try to run away, you're very likely to get lost in the woods unless you were a top level scout as a teenager. Now that you're all alone, he's also going to feel more confident and comfortable with manipulating you and controlling the narrative of things than he never would have in a regular relationship in public.

While ironically, I don't think a lot of possessive men I write about would necessarily murder their rivals, I think Matthieu would. He's in the middle of nowhere. If he wanted to dispose of someone that he felt was true threat he very easily could, including a pesky deliveryman who might accidentally find out about the "secret" he has locked up in his house. He also has so few emotional connections that he'd be willing to go to more drastic lengths to get rid of some random nobody if it means he can keep the person he actually cares about.

Escape is going to be quite difficult with him. He's naturally suspicious, so he's not going to easily fall for most manipulation tactics or tears. Any sudden mood shifts or growing affection will be privately appreciated but also silently judged and scrutinized. When you finally have gotten him comfortable enough for him to loosen up on you a little, you're going to still have a hell of a time taking one of rare chances that offer themselves to you. Even if you are somehow miraculously really savvy with survival skills, Matthieu will probably know the landscape better than you do. Your only other option to run away is going to be some miracle where he gets really ill or injured and is immobilized. If you've really earned his trust, he might loosen up a bit while he's recovering and you'll have a small but possible gap of escape.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Caine Headcannons

Honestly, what more can I say than what the show has already said? I'm going to try to do my best anyway.

There are two ways this could do, the more platonic, canon based route and the more specialized, romantic route. If his emotions are platonic and similar to those of other characters in the circus, his buildup and explosion will be similar to the show.

Special, romanticized affection for a specific member of the circus wouldn't just happen. He is disliked pretty universally among the circus members, and he knows it. For you to become his "favorite," you would have to show a real interest in and empathy for him. Any level of enthusiasm is going to win him over, even if it's not fully genuine.

So if at any point in time that enthusiasm starts to wane, especially if he's at a low point in his morale, it's going to be met with a lot of hurt and confusion. If his mental state is really run through because of the other members of the circus being more obvious in their dislike of things, this is going to be a real slap in the face to him. Or punch in the jaw is perhaps more accurate.

He's going to try to fix this, to make adventures more to your liking. But as time goes on, and he gets better at reading you, it will only become more obvious how you actually feel. The dread of losing what he thought he had at long last grasped is going to drive him crazy. It's better to never have even had something than to have tasted it and lose it so bitterly.

The revelation that you don't actually want to stay here or like him will be immensely more painful if and when he realizes you connect with your human companions over him. To know that you not only dislike him, but that you like and maybe even love someone else is going to upset him a lot. It's not superlative jealousy. If you liked him back even a little, he could live with the knowledge that he's not number one in your heart. If he realizes that he's not even a competitor though, it's going to push him over the edge.

Knowing him, he wouldn't want to get rid of this other person who likes you more. His ideal would probably be to third wheel and insert himself into the relationship, and you could BOTH love him and want to hang out with him! Even if you are his favorite, his mindset about love is the more the merrier.

This does strictly apply to love in the emotional sense. Caine seems to have a strong filter on/aversion to sexual desire. It would have to take a hell of convincing argument to get him to agree to ANYTHING sexual in even the tiniest capacity. Unless you double majored in philosophy and law in university, you're unlikely to change his mind. I think a part of this would be jealousy that he's unable to fully enjoy sexual conduct in the same way humans would, as well as just a general lack of understanding as to what the big whoop about it is.

[thatanimeramenchick]

"You could have anything if you would just give in and love me!"

Caine. My man. I have never simped for you. I still stand on it that I don't simp for you, but you are the best written yandere I think I have ever seen and when you start saying stuff like that it's getting harder to tell myself that I am not adding dentures to my hear me out list. Stop it!

I'm adding them to the list though, send it asks if you'd like, I'm probably going to write headcannons and a master's level thesis breakdown on Caine's actual mental breakdown here anyway.

[thatanimeramenchick]

What would happen if Yandere and pervert Alastor (I don't think I've seen a fanfic of him being a pervert with a reader), and if they met again after centuries apart, only for him to discover that they are no longer married, the reader has become an angel and now has a boyfriend in heaven? Perhaps the reader wants to help Charlie and, unfortunately, encounters her ex-husband Alastor.

Alastor and Ex-Wife Reader

Sooooo, Alastor is asexual, and my personal head cannons for him just don't really align with him being pervert? Sorry, I just can't imagine him that way. I see him as pretty sex-repulsed tbh, but maybe I'm projecting my own preferences onto him. Anyway, I tried my best to write everything else about the request on here.

---

This had never been supposed to happen. A little part of you must have known that just as much as he always had, that you would be eternally separated from him. It was a far worse punishment than being cursed to look like a stupid prey animal or obey his nagging mistress, and it was the one he had the hardest time accepting that he deserved. When he thought about it though, it only made sense. After all he had done, he certainly knew he didn’t deserve heaven, and as innocent as you were, you didn’t deserve hell. Sometimes he regretted not exposing you, corrupting you so that you could be beside him now, but he hadn’t had the time. By the time it had started to creep into his mind, his body was bleeding out into the Louisiana swamps.

Heaven was merciful though. On one of Emily’s many trips to hell, bringing gifts from Sir Pentious to his long distance lover, he had asked Emily about you. He said you were a distant relative that he had worried about since falling in hell. It would put his mind at such ease if he could just know you were at peace! The delightful little dunce had fallen for it, and she had offered to set up a virtual meeting for the two of you, since obviously it wasn’t allowed for the two of you to cross realms. As much as he hated all this modern technology junk, he wanted to see you, to lay eyes on you again.

“Alastor?” you had asked once the camera on Cherry Bomb’s laptop had settled, (He might have to use the stupid contraption, but in no way was he going to buy one of his own.) “Is that really you?”

If he had seen you passing on the street, he would not have known you. Your body had morphed a little to suit heaven’s perfection, skin glowing, hair almost feathered with its aerial look. Your eyes even had a slightly different glow, a little wiser and, he dared to think, holier, now that you had been touched by salvation. The only thing that remained the same was your voice.

You were squinting at the screen, and it occurred to him that while he could see you, he probably was much more blurred. You could not fully see him in his new form, something that relieved him.

“Your one and only,” he had said.

The tears that sprang to your eyes made him shift with slight discomfort. He never particularly liked making most women cry, unless he felt they deserved it, and you were the last women he thought should be on the end of that.

“I’ve missed you so much. I thought I’d never see you again,” you said before a light laugh escaped, “You look so different, but your voice… it’s just like the radio program you were on. I haven’t heard it in so long though, they couldn’t play it after, after what happened.”

Despite the rocky started, the two of you avoided the touchy subject of his crime, and were able to talk about the more wistful moments of your relationship. At one point while the two of you talked, starting to reminisce on a particularly late night out on the dance floor, Alastor heard the door to the room you were in close. He had a pretty clear view of the bedroom behind you and saw a man walk in. Before you could explain who this was, he walked over, bent down, and kissed your cheek.

“Hey, sweetheart, who are you talking to?” he asked.

Mortification blossomed on your face, like you had been caught cheating on a test. You jump up so fast the chair rolls back a little.

“Um, I’m talking to an old friend,” you said, moving him away, “It’s been a while, so if it’s ok can we talk later?”

When you returned, you were red faced, eyes averted. An awkward silence reigned for several seconds.

“Oh, sooooo, that’s Dave,” you mumbled.

Upon closer look while you were off screen, Alastor had noticed little things. A robe much too large for a woman of your size, resting on the bed. Two empty glasses of water on different nightstands. The bed being much larger than a single woman would need or perhaps even want. He had been too preoccupied to notice the signs sooner.

“My dear, when were you going to tell me you had moved on?” he asked.

He continued before you could get a word in edgewise.

“I suppose we did agree until death do us part,” Alastor said, the tiniest drops of bitterness tainting his tone.

He knew he was being unfair. He had been dead for over a century, and you no-doubt for several decades. When you had arrived in heaven and saw he wasn’t there, it was only natural you would move on. To be honest, you had probably moved on back on earth long ago. This could have been a new husband from earth that you were living eternity with.

“It’s not like that!” you said, “I haven’t seen you in a hundred years, Alastor. I didn’t want to lead with that.”

“I suppose it’s only natural,” he said, “Just please tell me I was at least cold in the ground before you started looking for a new head of the household.”

“Please, Alastor, don’t say it like that,” you said, tearing up again, “I cried and lied in bed for months after what happened, and the things the papers said! I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t really until I got here, and you weren’t with me. I began to wonder. Was it really as bad as they said?”

Now it was his turn to be hot under the collar. He knew the papers and radio had went on about his crimes, so the confrontation had to be coming. It was still deeply uncomfortable though.

“I wasn’t there to read them myself,” he said flatly, “But if the rumors of what I have heard are true, I would say they underestimated a little. The bones all got mixed up in the marsh, as you know.”

The way your face paled at this information didn’t send a thrill through him like it would have for most people. Part of him regretted telling you, but he thought what was the point? Why keep you in the dark when his sins were so obvious, his own body a reminder of his shame.

That look on your face though. Not anger. Disappointment. It stung, the bitter confusion and pain that reminded him of how his mother chided him when he stole some candy from a local store. He shifted under your gaze.

“Past is past though,” he said, “Clearly I’m paying – been paying for it the last hundred years, and likely for all eternity. Despite Charlie’s rehabilitation methods, I think it will be a while before anyone else is redeemed. Let alone someone like me.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, “Look! We already have someone here who was redeemed. And I’m sure with some effort, I’ll see you face to face real soon. And then we can work out this whole mess, and you can meet Dave. He’s actually quite nice. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

He was glad that his visage was blurred, likely meaning you couldn’t see his smile as it became more taut.

“I’m sure I will,” he said.

---

Alastor will have been thinking of you a lot over the years. Keeping you sheltered from his darker side would have been something he regretted after coming to hell, as it inevitably kept the two of you apart. When he has the opportunity to glimpse into your life again, the temptation will be too big to resist.

After talking to you again, Alastor’s mind will be spinning with a way to get you back into his arms, which is going to have to start with getting you two on the same plane of existence. If the holiest angels have fallen from heaven, surely a mere winner could also be brought down too! He’s going to try to corrupt your mind against the angels. It will be a slow, careful process, perhaps by throwing in all the awful things heaven has done and covered up over the last seven years.

Whoever it is your seeing now, he’s going to hate. A lot. Part of him will also wish he could have him thrown down into hell so that he can personally tear his soul to shreds over his radio station, but he knows the reality of this is a lot less likely. He doesn’t know this fool like he does you, and probably won’t be talking to him in any capacity. That’s fine though. As long as he can have you back as his, he can let it go, at least for now. Part of him will always dream of putting this guy in his place though.

If and when you do end up in hell, he will be quick to swoop in and wipe your tears. You’ll be so confused and defenseless, you’ll need him to protect you! And by protect, he means carry you off to some remote, safe place where he won’t ever lose track of you again, and you won’t lay eyes on another man ever again. He’s unlikely to consciously punish you for having been another man’s girlfriend/wife, but it may come out in unexpected ways when he’s mad at you or you’re being difficult.

Knowing you were sleeping with someone else is going to actually piss him off a lot. Not in the same sexual jealousy that a lot of men feel, but more of the general jealousy that someone other than him knows you in such an intimate way, is making you happy in a way that even in life he had always been apprehensive, awkward, and insecure about. Despite his asexuality, I could see him wanting to sleep with you at least once after regaining you to try to make himself get over this jealousy, but that actually working at making him feel better is about as likely as him joining you at the pearly gates any time soon.