Warning: horror content, unhealthy relationships. Primarily reblogs, male yan x fem reader (TWST, hxh, Pokemon, Star Wars, etc). Occasional original works, critique welcome
male yandere x (female or gender neutral) reader
one character/scenario per request please
I do not write nor draw:
quickly (much to my own disappointment, I assure you)
non SFW
characters who are in a canon relationship with someone else
female yanderes
male reader
AUs (yandere is already itself an AU, and 2 steps of AU is basically a different character)
Works in progress, in order of completeness:
(feel free to ask me to prioritize any of my current ideas, or provide one of your own )
hoping to find a beta reader before I post: (message me if interested)
Riddler fic (2k+)
Two Face fic (1k+)
slowly making progress:
Scarecrow fic (1k+)
Knight Radiant orders as yanderes (~0.5k each)
Thrawn Fic (5k+)
Psycho Mantis thoughts (fic?) ~0.8k
not even close:
dystopyx-blog collab
Rollo Flamme fic 2.0
Darth Sion fic
Thrawn thoughts/headcanons
Cyrus drabble
Volo drabble
non-story chit-chat posts
Completed works:
constructive criticism welcome, nothing is beta read
content warning tags added as requested
TWISTED WONDERLAND*
Burning and Building Bridges (Rollo Flamme fic, written before playing GloMas, non Canon compliant)
5E (Epel Felmier expression)
1E (Malleus Draconia expression)
3C (Jamil Viper expression)
* All students are aged up to that of actual college students (ie adults)
Pretty please could we get an alphabet for Yandere Thrawn?? I miss my blueberry man
Yandere Alphabet With Thrawn
Warning: Psychological manipulation, gaslighting, emotional abuse, coercion, non-consensual isolation, confinement, stalking, obsessive behavior, implied violence, depiction of a controlling and possessive relationship, loss of autonomy and free will, sensory deprivation as punishment, themes of psychological breaking and conditioning.
This alphabet is not mine nor is this gif!
Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Thrawn's affection manifests through meticulous observation and strategic positioning.
He doesn't express love through conventional means but through calculated presence and resource allocation. His affection is shown by ensuring your comfort (within his parameters), providing intellectual stimulation tailored to your interests, and eliminating obstacles to your "well-being."
The intensity builds gradually, initially subtle, then suffocating as his study of you becomes all-consuming. He'll memorize your tells, preferences, and fears not for emotional connection but for complete psychological mapping.
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
Thrawn maintains surgical precision in eliminating threats. He wouldn't personally engage in messy violence but would orchestrate "accidents" with military efficiency. Enemies might find themselves reassigned to remote outposts, encounter "unfortunate" starship malfunctions, or face court-martial for fabricated offenses. If necessary, he wouldn't hesitate to order orbital bombardment of locations housing potential escape routes or allies. The bloodshed is always indirect, deniable, and strategically justified.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
His cruelty is intellectual rather than physical. Thrawn would systematically dismantle your support systems while presenting himself as your only stable element.
He might force you to watch as he outmaneuvers rescue attempts, demonstrating the futility of resistance. His mockery takes the form of calm explanations: "Your emotional response is predictable but inefficient." He studies your breaking points not for sadism but to calibrate his control methods, like tuning an instrument.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Beyond abduction, Thrawn would manipulate every aspect of your environment.
He'd replace your allies with his operatives, alter your food to induce dependency, and create situations where only his intervention saves you.
He'd never force physical intimacy but would engineer circumstances where you initiate contact out of manufactured necessity. His control extends to your thoughts, he'll introduce concepts and arguments that slowly reshape your worldview to align with his.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Thrawn reveals vulnerability only through his art collection, where he might show you pieces that resonate with his perception of you.
These rare moments are calculated tests of your understanding. His guard remains otherwise impenetrable even during intimacy, his mind is analyzing responses. The closest he comes to vulnerability is admitting strategic miscalculations, which he frames as learning opportunities rather than weaknesses.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Resistance intrigues him intellectually. He'll document your escape attempts like case studies, sometimes allowing limited success to gather more data.
He finds physical resistance amusing but mental challenges genuinely interesting. Your defiance becomes part of his collection, he might preserve threatening letters you've written as artifacts. If you outsmart him temporarily, he displays genuine respect before methodically closing that vulnerability.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
The "game" operates on multiple levels. While he enjoys watching your struggles, he's simultaneously running parallel simulations of your potential actions. If external forces attempt to "rescue" you, he transforms it into a teaching moment, demonstrating how their efforts play into his larger strategy.
The only time amusement ends is when your escape attempts threaten his long-term plans then the game becomes serious containment.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
Your worst experience would be the "white room" period, sensory deprivation where only his voice occasionally breaks the silence, reciting art history or tactical analyses.
This is followed by calculated reintroduction to stimuli, each associated with his presence. He'll make you choose between terrible options, both designed to increase dependency.
The true horror is realizing your thoughts are no longer entirely your own.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
Thrawn envisions you as his intellectual equal after proper "refinement." He doesn't desire a passive partner but one who can appreciate strategic thinking as he does.
Your future involves serving as his sounding board, with access to unprecedented knowledge and resources, but always within his parameters.
He might groom you as his successor, creating a shared legacy of order and aesthetic appreciation.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Jealousy is inefficient to Thrawn. Instead, he views potential rivals as data points to be neutralized.
If someone captures your attention, he studies their methods to improve his own approach.
He might allow limited interaction to observe your responses, then systematically demonstrate why others are inadequate. His response to perceived threats is cold removal rather than emotional outburst.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Physical affection is rare and deliberate. When it occurs, it's often after you've demonstrated "correct" thinking or during strategic vulnerability.
His touch is analytical, noting your physiological responses. He might trace your features as if studying a sculpture.
Intimacy happens on his schedule, often following intellectual victories where you've aligned with his perspective.
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
His courtship involves strategic "gifts" rare artifacts, exclusive knowledge, or solutions to problems you didn't know you had.
He doesn't write traditional letters but sends encrypted messages containing art analyses with hidden personal meanings. The choice was always yours, voluntary cooperation or the removal of your world's support systems until compliance became the only logical option.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
Thrawn's public and private personas are nearly identical, the only difference is the audience. With you, he's more candid about his methods but never about his emotions.
He might explain his strategic thinking in detail, treating you as a trusted subordinate rather than an equal.
His true colors aren't hidden but simply irrelevant to his objectives.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Punishment fits the "crime" defiance earns isolation, attempts to contact others result in communication blackouts.
He's creative with psychological pressure making you choose which of your former contacts faces consequences for your actions.
The white room is reserved for serious offenses, but even minor rebellions might result in removal of privileges you didn't realize he controlled.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
He removes freedoms gradually, making each loss seem reasonable or protective.
Your choices become increasingly limited to options he's predetermined.
He controls information, creating a reality where his decisions appear optimal. Even your thoughts are influenced through carefully curated experiences designed to shape your conclusions.
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Thrawn's patience is legendary, he might observe you for years before making contact.
He sees resistance as temporary variables in a long equation.
His calm during your rebellion isn't tolerance but confidence in eventual outcome.
He measures progress in subtle shifts, your brief moments of alignment with his thinking are victories worth waiting for.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
Your death would be an unacceptable data loss, he'd preserve your mind through technology if necessary.
If you escape, the hunt becomes his primary project, with all Imperial resources redirected.
He wouldn't harm you upon recapture but would study how you succeeded, implementing new controls.
Your escape attempt becomes part of your permanent file, referenced in future strategy sessions.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
Thrawn doesn't experience conventional regret but might acknowledge tactical inefficiencies in his approach.
He'd refine methods but never question the objective. If you suffer unnecessarily, he adjusts protocols, not from compassion but because damaged assets underperform.
He's self-aware enough to recognize his selfishness but considers it a strategic necessity.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
His yandere nature stems from viewing you as the ultimate strategic challenge, a complex system to understand and optimize.
Your mind fascinates him more than any art. This obsession began when you demonstrated unpredictability that defied his initial analysis.
Breaking your mental code became his most compelling project, surpassing even military campaigns in priority.
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
Your emotional responses are cataloged but dismissed as inefficient unless strategically useful.
If crying serves his objectives, he might encourage it, otherwise he waits for emotional exhaustion to create teachable moments.
He doesn't comfort you traditionally but might provide logical perspectives on your situation, framing acceptance as the intelligent choice.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Unlike classic yanderes, Thrawn's obsession is intellectual rather than romantic.
He doesn't worship you but sees you as a fascinating problem to solve.
His control is maintained through strategic dependency rather than violence.
He values your original mind precisely because breaking and rebuilding it presents the ultimate challenge. He won't kill you, a broken mind can be studied, but death offers no data.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
His only exploitable weakness is his intellectual pride. Presenting him with a genuinely unsolvable problem might distract him temporarily.
His art collection could be leveraged, threatening pieces he considers irreplaceable might force concessions.
His cultural isolation from the Empire might create vulnerabilities if you understand Chiss psychology better than he understands human emotion.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Physical harm is counterproductive, damaged subjects yield poor data. His violence is exclusively psychological.
He might make you believe you're losing your mind or that allies have betrayed you. The greatest harm is making you doubt your own perceptions until his reality becomes the only one you can trust.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
Thrawn doesn't revere you but your potential once "properly aligned." He doesn't need to win you over because he considers eventual cooperation inevitable.
Your spirit interests him as raw material to be refined. He finds your rebellion charmingly inefficient but ultimately irrelevant to the outcome.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
His observation period might last years, gathering comprehensive data before action. He'll map your entire life relationships, routines, vulnerabilities before making contact. The "snap" isn't emotional but strategic, the moment when abduction offers the highest probability of success with minimal resource expenditure.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
He breaks your mind systematically but maintains awareness, a shattered consciousness offers no strategic value.
He wants you functional within his parameters, not destroyed.
The breaking point comes when you realize resistance is futile and begin anticipating his desires. Your complete mental surrender is his ultimate victory, but he'll always leave enough independence to make your compliance meaningful.
How would Toby be with a romantic partner if he ever entered a relationship (like would he be toxic/romantic/etc??)
This will be long, buckle up, as I want to tackle multiple questions.
This is an x y/n headcanons visual thing.
Warning: Terrible writing. Might be slightly dark. Very very long
Firstly, all depends on the closeness you have with Toby.
🍨 Plaything
🍰 Congratulations, you got him interested in you. Maybe it's your overly humorous reaction to him running after you, while he was chaotically swinging his hatchets. Maybe you had a drastically different reaction to his previous victims.
🍰 Either way, he loves tormenting you; his morals are either absent or corrupt. He likes to scare you, looking into your window to your room at night, laughing and rambling nonsense once you notice him (doesn't matter which floor you live on; he can climb). He can inflict some minor or not so pain on you, especially during his episodes, from randomly swinging his weapons in anger or excitement to pushing you around. There is no particular aim in that; he just feels like it, or his mind is fogged by voices and emotions.
🍰 Contrary to popular belief, he isn't shy, he isn't easily embarrassed. He is loud, obnoxious; he will make his opinions known to you; he will comment on anything you do or any of your clothes, personal belongings, even your family. He is here to have fun, not to worry about your feelings. As long as you entertain him, he will keep you alive, driving you to madness.
🍰 He can and will find you anywhere, will make you look like an insane person to other people. He is good at hiding and is skilled at hurting physically and emotionally from a distance (throwing a rock in the head, displacing objects in the room to make one paranoid, etc.). A 2-meter-tall stalker running around with two axes after you? You're hilarious, y/n!
Coincidentally, his boss doesn't order him to kill you; maybe you don't disturb his work much, after all, he doesn't visit you all the time (his life doesn't revolve around you). Just the least when you expect him.
🍰Telling him he is disgusting or commenting his mental issues will result in an instant end, unless he would want to play a chasing game in the forest with you before that.
🍰 If you have an S/O, he will mock you for choosing such a pitiful person as a partner. Just hope he won't involve your S/O in your little games. He doesn't care about your personal life, but he sure knows how dear this relationship is to you.
🍨 "We are buddies, r-right?"
🍰 You somehow managed to survive his attacks, random outbursts, mood swings, threats and, for some reason, decided to befriend him.
Honestly, being his friend is the healthiest you can get and keep bits of your private space at the same time.
🍰 He, despite being insane, brainwashed, and amnesiac, starts to see you more than just an amusement park attraction as a cute little pet, not really an equal. Your relationship is a bit more than him having a blast using physical or mental torture on you. Your presence and personality are also fun, who knew?!
🍰 Maybe, would EVEN feel a slight parody of pity for you. Especially if you tell him your sad stories of your life. He is terrible at comforting, but if the stars align right, he can play his favorite cassettes to you with cheery songs or try to make jokes, but don't expect that to happen every time. Maybe a pat on the head would happen, usually, he would tell you to stop being sad as there are worse things to cry about.
🍰 He teases you and pranks you a lot. Doesn't matter what state you are in.
🍰 His idea of friendship is a bit twisted. You won't mind that he will destroy your belongings if he finds them annoying, right? You are friends! Friends don't hold grudges against each other! Or if he would hurt your family members or friends because they said or did something that triggered his aggression, right? Friends forgive each other! You don't mind sharing everything with him, from food to information, because friends don't keep secrets from each other!
🍰 There is a good part to this relationship. He is kinder to you. Perhaps, would bring you a cute little trinket or object stained in blood. Friends make gifts for each other! He would appreciate it if you would give him something. Be careful what you give him, as he interprets your gifts in his own way. New hoodie? Are you implying his tastes are bad? Are you mocking him?
🍰 This is also where you can shape your friendship into a seemingly normal one. Food is a safe option. Learn what he likes to convey to him that you care about him. The man needs kindness deep inside. It will confuse him; he might get angry at you, at the world without understanding why, but the long-term result is worth the risk.
🍰 If you are in danger, he might save you. Although you will bear the guilt of some hooligans being either deadly hurt or dead.
🍰 He is also more open to you. You can hold small conversations with him, discussing music, for example. However, if he is in one of his episodes or even just mood swings, he can snap, shout at you or just be mad at you for an unknown reason, while rambling something incomprehensible and leave you alone for a week or more. Violence isn't completely off the table either.
🍰 If you have an S/O (or just hangs out with friends), He can get jealous because you don't pay attention to him at that exact moment. He isn't always jealous, just sometimes. If he is in a terrible mood, might even hurt your S/O, he isn't shy at that stage to involve anyone in the mess. He can complain about your S/O. It's not advised to dispute him, as he can get angry at you. You are his friend! Why are you fighting him?
🍨 Obsessive
🍰 After a lot of talking, gifts and, if you were bold enough, light friendly physical touch, he is feeling smitten by you.
🍰 You notice weird signs of attention from him, he makes some sort of romantic gestures, but it comes off as creepy to you. For instance, he thought a fur coat is what you would like, but he didn't realise you need to work on the fur instead of giving it bloody to you.
🍰 He doesn't understand himself, his voices aren't helping him either, he is feeling hate then sickly love from one second to another. If he thinks too much about that, he twitches and tics more than usual, especially in your presence. He is more distant; he doesn't respond to you. He just sits there, shifting his eyes without focusing on anything, occasionally roughly turning to one of his auditory hallucinations.
🍰 You don't understand his ramblings or whispers, and now they are more disjointed than ever. He avoids you for a few months or even more. It worries you more than him being around you, as you're used to his presence by now. Who knows, maybe he got bored with you and just contemplates how brightly he could end your life.
🍰 He can't run from his feelings forever. As a snow during summer, he busts into your house and just dumps all his thoughts on you—just an incomprehensible jumble. You won't understand it right away until he grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into an embrace, then pushes you away, twitching, staring into your soul, waiting for your response. He doesn't say, but he already knows how you feel, even if he lies to himself. He is attentive and sensitive to human emotions, and he reads body language quite well.
🍰 You have a choice. If you deny his love, either one of things will happen. You die because he feels like it. You don't like him, if he kills you, he kills his feelings for you at the same time. Yet, there is a slim chance he can just forcefully make you like him, can lead to kidnapping, but you won't love him that way either, he would realize that, that's not right, and you are also dead in this scenario.
🍰 If you lie and accept his feelings, you won't last long, either. He notices all the slight restless movements around him, your discomfort, the way you look at him. He hates liars, so it's best to be honest and die quickly rather than slowly.
🍰 If you have a strong, twisted friendship and you learn how to talk to him, how to act when he is difficult to interact with, and you just find him with his bouquet of disorders and trauma charming in his own way, then you don't need to say much to him.
🍰 He doesn't know anything about relationships. He can come off as toxic, as his jealousy flies from low to high in a matter of moments. He is still a snappy, angry, insane serial killer, he just now sometimes apologizes if he was too rude to you. More gifts too, woo-hoo!
🍰 He is obsessive, but that also depends on a lot of circumstances. He wants to be around you as much as possible. Just your presence gives him some sort of emotional bliss when his thoughts are a bit less loud than usual. At the same time, his thoughts are chaotic and get under his skin, and he can disappear for some time. Or one of your words can trigger him; he can be violent or distant.
🍰 Dates with him are attempts to replicate what he sees in movies. He watched whatever old VHS he found in abandoned cabins or houses in the woods, so it's pretty vanilla and traditional, dare I say: eating ice cream together, watching movies, slowly dancing to some old music. He uses old pickup lines too if he feels particularly spicy.
🍰 He isn't touchy. He is touchy unless there is a sinister goal in mind or he wants to be annoying. Toby subconsciously associates touch with bullying or violence. You have to teach him to appreciate affection and kindness, and it will take you a lot of time.
🍰 Eventually, with a lot of pain he adjusts to your taction. He likes to sit next to you, shoulder pressed against yours, while resting his head on your shoulder or head, enjoying peace and silence, while you fidget with his fingers, occasionally placing brief kisses on bruises on his hand. He likes small touches. Once he learns what a surprise hug is, he abuses the life out of it. Be prepared to have mini-heart attacks when he screeches into your ear and hugs you from behind while you return from a small grocery trip back home. Other than that, his level of tactility remains the same.
🍰 His mask and goggles are also mental protection for him from the world. You notice that he takes them off when he is around you.
🍰 He is weak for compliments..even if he overthinks, in some instances, becomes angry or sad, whatever mood hits at the moment, but deep down he is squealing. He will hint at that in his own way by trying to compliment you. This is also important as at times he feels paranoid you are plotting something against him, so compliment him when you can.
🍰 Small acts, like maybe washing his bloody clothes or sewing them as they have a lot of holes, makes him intensely love you. He just stares at you, you just think he is probably hallucinating something.
🍰 Movies showed what women truly desire, so he is a gentleman, ..tries to be, so he would bring you flowers that he probably snatched from a nearby garden. Would keep the door for you, all that, his twitching, ticking, can make it unpredictable. If you're slammed by the said door on your side, trust him, he didn't mean it.
🍰 If you see him just lying down and doing nothing for days, don't try to extremely cheer him up or, goodness forbid, say "smile some more." Just be by his side, be patient. He will become cheery again soon.
🍰 He is jealous, he cares about your attention more than ever. So be careful how you act around your friends, family, or strangers if you want them to be at least alive by the morning.
🍰 His mind can be fogged by rage sometimes, so stay out of his way, he isn't in his head when he is like that.
🍰 Oh, if you have an S/O while he is in this state. No more of that S/O, maybe not you either. If anyone dares to flirt with you, no more of that person, either. You can beg Tobs to just end the lesson with a severe beating but good luck with that. He may switch his unstable bloodthirst onto you if you try too hard.
If you reach this, thank you for reading this war and peace, hope this all makes a bit of sense lmao.
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Content Warning: YANDERE doin' yandere stuff
A/N: a yandere in harry potter glasses is always a win tbh
Lumiose at night glittered like a circuit board.
Prism Tower throwing light across the boulevards, taxi horns echoing between the cafés and boutiques. It was beautiful from the street.
It was suffocating from the inside of Corbeau’s letter.
A crisp black envelope, delivered by a grim-faced Syndicate grunt. No return address, just a stylized rust-colored logo and a single line written in a precise, almost calligraphic hand:
“Come. Your presence is required.”
— C.
There was no threat written, but the threat radiated from the paper like static.
You shouldn’t have gone. You knew you shouldn’t have.
But ignoring a Syndicate summons in Lumiose? People whispered about what happened when you did, and some risks, frankly, weren’t worth taking.
So you went.
…
The Rust Syndicate building didn’t look like a criminal hideout.
It looked like a luxury bank: sweeping glass doors, marble floors, minimalist lighting. Everything so sterile and polished.
You expected a receptionist. A grunt. Someone to size you up, but there was nobody when you entered. A little awkwardly, you made a beeline for the elevator, figuring it was alright.
As soon as the doors slid smoothly open, there he was.
Corbeau.
Small but sharp. Pale as a ghost beneath the neon lights of the display panel. The poison-drip tails of his jacket swayed slightly as he turned his head, violet eyes narrowing with polite annoyance.
“You kept me waiting,” he said softly, as if he couldn’t decide whether the idea amused or insulted him.
His Scolipede curled against the back wall, huge body coiled like a trap sprung halfway. Its mandibles clicked once, and caused you to flinch.
You swallowed in an effort to stay composed. “The letter didn’t have a time.”
“Everything has a time,” Corbeau murmured, adjusting his glasses with two fingers. “Did it not sound like a request to see you immediately?”
Apologetically, you dipped your head. Maybe he was right, maybe it did…
As the doors closed, you felt cramped. His presence didn’t take up physical space; it took up psychological space, thought-space, breath-space.
You had the sudden feeling you’d just been sealed into a vault.
…
After an uncomfortably silent ride, the elevator chimed and opened into a dim concrete hallway that didn’t match the expensive lobby at all. It was far more industrial and cold, greyish, and you could hear machinery humming behind the walls.
Corbeau stepped out first, hands clasped behind his back, posture perfect. Scolipede scraped out behind him, the sound of its armored legs skittering across the floor echoing in the tight space.
Corbeau didn’t look at you as he spoke.
“You handled my prior tasks efficiently,” he said. “Your work in the old apartment complex, the sewer system, the Connoisseur situation.”
He paused, lip curling a touch.
“You understand how to follow instructions.”
You frowned.
“Those weren’t instructions. Those were jobs to clear someone else’s debt.”
“Semantics,” he said lightly. “You performed well. Accept the praise.”
He led you through a hallway of locked doors. You noticed each one had heavy steel bars. Reinforced hinges. Security panels. It did not feel like a typical office environment.
“What’s behind—?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with yet,” he cut in, voice clipped. “Classified.”
You didn’t like the ‘yet’.
Not at all.
…
His office opened at the end of the hall, revealing a room with massive windows overlooking nighttime Lumiose. The city lights refracted through the glass, shimmering like gems, but Corbeau’s presence sucked all warmth out of the view.
He moved with elegant efficiency: pulling out a chair for you, brushing invisible dust from the edge of his desk, adjusting the angle of his chair by a fraction of a degree before sitting.
“Do you know why you are here?” Corbeau asked, lacing his fingers. His nails were so clean they almost gleamed.
“To threaten me?” you said before you could stop yourself.
His lips twitched. “If I intended to threaten you, you would not feel safe enough to speak.”
A pause.
“Or to breathe. Or do anything, really.”
Scolipede slid into the room with a low hiss. Corbeau placed one hand on its neck plates, lightly stroking. You realized — with a jolt — that the Pokémon relaxed under his touch like a loyal dog.
“Then why am I here?” you pressed.
He leaned forward.
“You took initiative,” he said softly. “You performed tasks meant for Syndicate members. You handled volatile spaces with caution but without fear. That interests me.”
Your throat tightened.
“And interests incur interest,” he added.
“What kind of interest?” you asked.
He smiled. Thin. Precise. Concerning.
“Proximity.”
Without breaking eye contact, Corbeau opened the top drawer of his desk. Then he slid a folder across the surface toward you.
Your name was written on the tab. All you could do was just stare at it for a long, worried moment.
“You keep files on people?” you whispered.
“I keep files on potential threats. And potential assets.”
He steepled his fingers.
“You are…unusually difficult to categorize.”
You didn’t open it.
You didn’t want to know what he’d observed.
But he told you anyway.
“You battle with hesitation,” he murmured. “But not out of fear. Out of empathy, no?”
He tilted his head, glasses glinting, momentarily obscuring his gaze.
“Your Pokémon trust you. A rare trait. Potentially exploitable by enemies.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“It is if others notice.”
His voice dropped.
“And others have noticed. I felt I should inform you of that.”
Your pulse quickened. “Who?”
He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other in a way that seemed relaxed but wasn’t.
“People who want your potential,” he said. “People who want to manipulate it. People who want to destroy it.”
Corbeau’s eyes lowered, drifting over your posture, your bag, the scuff on your shoe from earlier.
Every detail. Every little inch of you.
“I won’t allow it.”
At that moment, it seemed like a good time to leave. But like it read your mind, Scolipede immediately shifted to block the door. A massive wall of poison and chitin you couldn’t hope to penetrate no matter how you tried.
“Don’t,” Corbeau spoke simply. Curtly.
And you didn’t.
He rose from his chair and paced towards you, around you, observing you…
“When something interests me,” he said in a low voice, “I protect it. How one should.”
You tried to form a response. Your mouth was dry.
Eventually it became a struggle even just to look at him, and your eyes dove for the floor, head tilting completely downward. But his delicate, gloved fingers, dipped beneath your jaw and lifted it again.
He had no right to touch you so softly.
“You have no allies in this city,” Corbeau murmured. “No roots. No safety net. Nice as you are.”
Quickly, you jerked away from him. How could he speak like that? Like he knew you so well, inside out? Well, he didn’t.
“…Corbeau, I’m not joining the Syndicate. If that’s what you’re trying to do, then I’ll just tell you now that I refuse.”
“That is your decision,” he said calmly.
“So let me leave.”
The smile he gave you was patient enough to get right under your skin, you hated it.
“...You’re not going to?”
“You misunderstand,” he said. “You may walk anywhere you like.”
His lips fully curved into the smirk he’d been holding back. With such sharp features as his, it only looked all the more sinister.
“So long as it is within my sight.”
Immediately, your heart plummeted.
“You can’t—”
“I can,” he said simply. “And I will.”
His voice went soft, velvet-dark, as he began walking the room again, framed against the glittering windows, the world beyond that now seemed unreachable.
“You have already proven your loyalty once. You will not disappear into the back alleys of Lumiose like so many foolish, lonely souls.”
His eyes sharpened when he stopped, and looked right at you again.
“I will not lose something I have invested in.”
With a shudder, you practically collapsed into the chair at his desk. You wished you would have had the bravery to refuse, but all you could do was sit there, weakly.
“I don’t belong to you,” you whispered.
His expression did not change, but there was a cold fierceness behind those lenses of his, a predatory look in the amber.
“No,” Corbeau agreed simply, and walked back over to you, until he loomed over you, taller and more imposing than he had ever looked before.
“Not yet.”
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I know this is kind of a specific request, but: Yandere Scarecrow concept, where Darling is a random Gothamite who for some unknown reason is either completely unaffected by fear toxin or is affected by it in a completely different way than normal, Scarecrow discovers this and is determined to learn why, and this leads to an obsession?
Sure! Tried to make this general, so this probably can be any Scarecrow version.
Yandere! Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane with Immune! Darling
(Mini HCs)
Pairing: Dubious
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Drugging, Human experimentation, Kidnapping, Isolation, Mind break (Darling/Reader), Dubious yet forced pairing.
I feel like even with your immunity you're going to have a horrible time.
Sure, maybe you won't be subjected to horrible nightmares... mentally.
But what Jonathan would do next is much worse in my eyes.
Jonathan has spent years perfecting his Fear Toxin.
It has worked on countless people in the past... including Batman.
Jonathan no doubt stumbles upon you by accident.
He was planning an attack on Gotham as usual, sending countless Gothamites into mass psychosis.
All except for... one for some reason.
Everyone else is in mass hysteria, running around and begging for Batman or someone to save them.
However... you cower for a different reason.
You're scared of what's going on around you... but not the fears in your head.
It's admittedly a bit frustrating for Jonathan... yet at the same time fascinating.
You intrigue him....
That's about the worst thing you could do I think.
Not many are immune to his Fear Toxin.
He's made sure to make such chemicals potent enough to overwhelm so many.
But the idea of anyone being unaffected?
He needs to look into this.
I say being immune to the Fear Toxin is worse than not for one specific reason.
He'd probably kidnap you for experimentation.
So you aren't experiencing hallucinations... You're experiencing the painful obsession of a man struggling to understand how someone can be so... numb to his life's work.
Iirc... Jonathan is a man who wants to understand the unknown to not be scared of it himself.
Or something like that.
So I can definitely see him obsessing over someone who could be a potential threat to his plans.
I will say for this scenario the pairing is rather dubious.
This is mostly because I didn't focus on a pairing....
Although, this is also because his actions are too twisted to be considered platonic... maybe a sickening version of romance over time?
But either way his intentions are incredibly hard to read as time goes on.
Most of his obsession over you includes human experimentation.
He tries to find out what you're afraid of, he tries different doses of the drugs he uses, yet the effects aren't quite what he wants.
The entire time he grows obsessed over his new lab rat... you're tied up and locked in a room, forced to be subjected to various drugs and imagery.
He keeps trying to encourage hallucinations, to make sure the toxin works next time.
Yet as days pass you begin to wonder if he's just trying to break you....
For the most part you are just a test subject to him.
He comes back every night to try again, to see how much you can handle.
At this point it just feels like a game to him.
Maybe at some point in his obsession he doesn't care about the toxin anymore.
You're just an outlier... one he's going to enjoy breaking.
This desire to break you, to see just what scares you... is what evolves his obsession even more.
Eventually he'll break you... maybe not with the toxin... but the experimentation and isolation doesn't benefit your mental state.
All you ever see is him.
All you ever fear is the crippling loneliness the dark room exhibits... along with the tubes and drugs pumping into your system.
You'll experience psychosis, just different from everyone else.
Mostly because you know this fear is real.
Jonathan Crane is real... and he's doing all of this to you.
Jonathan will get what he wants eventually as he wears you down.
He'll find the way you tremble euphoric... the way you plead for him to let you go...
But soon this room will get to you... and you don't fight anymore when he reaches down to touch and prod at you.
He's succeeded, he's won, he's made you his... forever.
He means forever too.
Even if you're saved, even if Batman destroys his plans once again... you'll be his to keep once he comes back.
He'll always be in your mind... You'll never forget him and you'll finally cower just as he wanted... all because he's finally found what you're scared of... the very thing that breaks you when you think of it...
You're scared of the Scarecrow... along with what might happen once he gets his claws on you again.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You had been taken away from everything and everyone you loved. “To protect you” he said with that cold voice. So you ran. Again and again and again. But no matter how many times you planned, no matter how many times you escaped, no matter how many times you thought you were safe, he was there.
“Don’t you know I did all this for you?” He said calmly, voice dripping with poison. You tried to move, but his grip on you was iron. He was not letting you go. Not again.
All you could do was stare at the man who you once loved. The man who *promised* he’d always protect you. And if you really think about it, he hadn’t broke that promise.
He leaned in and kissed your lips. Tears formed in your eyes as he picked you up bridal-style and carried you back to what he called “your new home”.
“I will keep you here. I will keep you safe. Even if that means breaking you down until you can *only* rely on me.”
Could you draw Toby having a crush on Y/N? If he doesn't already
(I just want a smooch bro and Toby is such a cutie patootie ≧◡≦)
You're in luck as I was cringing and drawing something akin to that, thinking how could I not embarrass myself further, and now I have a valid reason to post this lmao.
My view is that he has his own way in liking y/n. Afterall, y/n is an unusual victim who managed to build some sort of fragile bond with him. It's just his feelings are slightly twisted with schizophrenia, bipolar and other disorders sprinkled on top, but he has also a very soft hidden side to him..just need to dig in deep, accepting his whole character so he could show it to y/n.
At least, that's what the sign said of the burger joint just across the street. The letters were scribbled haphazardly across a small blackboard, the whiteness shining starkly against the loud restaurant lights, its aesthetic clearly forced to look more rugged and casual than it actually was. The whole place just left a bad taste in your mouth - it tried way too hard to seem slick and cool, its creaky leather seats a helpless cry for any wandering customers to take it at least somewhat seriously. It wanted to mimic those old school American burger places, but with a touch of some odd fetish for leather.
A painful snort wiggled past your lips as the thought - perhaps that was why your captor took such a shining to it.
And not to mention that it was so convenient too. Come on, it's literally right across the street - why shouldn't he grab some food from there?
That was what Jason liked to say, at least.
Much to your dismay, he never actually bothered to sit down in any of the booths and eat his meal in solitude. No, it was always the same routine whenever he went inside to order the grub - always grabbing meals for two people, sometimes the portions would be larger if he could stomach it.
Always to share with you, his sweet obsession, as he liked to put it.
You'd study him through your window every time he stepped foot inside, casually leaning against the wall as the day went by like any other, with the sun setting in the horizon, orange hues bathing the city in its midst.
Jason had become something of a favorite to one of the owners it seems.
He never bothered to properly talk to the man, always giving him one word answers or some little quip which would make the other party howl with laughter, much to Jason's dismay.
However, he didn't seem to necessarily mind the man either - he just never was much of a people person.
That would all change the moment he stepped foot inside this very apartment.
You could visibly see the tension melt away from his shoulders as Jason shrugged off his jacket on one of the chairs, those dark eyes of his focused completely on your being.
You felt less like a person and more like a doll whenever he looked at you like that - something to hide and keep, far away from prying eyes. Something he needs to keep close unless it shatters under either his own too strong grip or someone else clumsily running into it.
Either way, the outcome was always the same in Jason's eyes.
There was never any middle ground with the man, it was always some extreme or the other. You had soon learned that pretending to be a phantom in his own home was much easier to tolerate than to actually try beating some sense into that thick skull of his.
Besides, he could beat you senseless if he wanted to. His strength was borderline inhumane, having witnessed firsthand how easily he could snuff someone's life out like it was nothing.
"I'm home, princess."
That tone, it's sickly sweet timbre made you want to puke - but you hardly touched any food all day, and the burgers in his hand smelled like heaven on earth right now. Some of the grease could be visible on the bags as Jason placed them down on the kitchen table, gesturing with his hands to just dig in.
Without hesitation, you got up and did just that.
Grubby hands reached towards the bun, immediately sighing in relief as the salty taste of the crispy beef hit your tongue like an answered prayer, as the sauce from the buns started to dribble directly on your lips and slowly trickling down your chin.
An amused chuckle rumbled in the air as Jason reached out to clean you with the tip of his thumb, the sensation gentle.
Such a thing was typically unlike him, but the man always made an effort to be on his best behavior whenever it came to you.
Jason licked his thumb quickly, the savory sauce now long gone from his hand as he released it with a cheeky pop, his eyes glued onto your lips as you inhaled the burger he brought home.
"Damn princess, you should have told me you were this hungry." said Jason cooly as he unwrapped his own dinner, not bothering to look away from you.
The meal was fast and relatively quiet, a now common occurrence in this new home of yours - just how Jason wanted it to be. You could see from the corner of his eye how his hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and hold you, but decided not to for whatever reason. Sometimes he gave in to these urges, satiating not only his physical appetite, but having a quick little bite of you as well.
Dessert, he'd say.
Best part of the night.
He'd cradle you in his bed, inhaling the scent of your hair as Jason drifted off to sleep, the demons of the day finally quieting down for him, but they had only just risen for you.
Even in your sleep, he was everywhere in your space. The man was simply too massive to ignore, his heat horrible in the summer but unfortunately, just right in the winter. You'd rather die than confess that to him though.
He would never let you live it down. Ever.
Tonight however, Jason at least seemed somewhat content with simply watching.
A rare blessing indeed.
Just because the sun had set, that didn't mean that Gotham was going to sleep.
Quite the contrary, actually.
Jason would soon leave for patrol, but he made sure to get his daily dose of you, no matter in what form.
After seeing some lists go around I decided to write my own!
Feel free to request stuff from this or to use these prompts yourself!
If you want to request something from this please add the number / and or the prompt itself into the ask. You can request up to three prompts at once for a character and I will then write a short scenario for it!
Hope you like these!!
1. “ I love you so much you have no idea.”
2. “ Please pay attention to me!”
3. “. They tried to take you away from me! I had to do something!”
4. “ I’m only doing this to keep you safe!”
5. “ Just what do you think you’re doing? Put that phone down!”
6. “Please don’t ever leave me!”
7. “Now we can finally be together forever!”
8. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
9. “ I’m sorry darling but I cannot help but be jealous when you talk to other people.”
10. “ Why cant you just say you love me??!”
11. “ You think I’m a monster? You’re the one that made me like this!”
12. “ Shhh please be quiet. Everything will be okay.”
13. “ Darling , did you miss me as much as I missed you?”
14. “ Darling why are you crying? I took care of the problem!”
15. “ You might not understand now but you will thank me later.”
16. “ I would do anything to make you stay.”
17. “ Can’t you see that we’re perfect for each other?”
18. “ Why are you trying to leave?? Aren’t you happy?! ”
19. “ Please don’t cry. Show me the smile I love so much! ”
20. “ I can’t live without you anymore!”
21. “ I want this moment to last forever. ”
22. “ You’re safe here in my arms.”
23. “ Please don’t scream at me like that. You know how much it hurts me.”
Hi hi! If possible and if you’re open to it, I really enjoyed your Yandere Steven! Maybe 75. “Thirty notes in the mailbox will tell you that I’m coming home.” with Steven? Maybe the reader finally ran away, but Steven found them again…? If you do write something for this, mega thank you!!! 🙏
cw: yandere, stalking, unhealthy relationships,
pairing: Steven Stone/Reader
It had been a few months since you last saw your ex.
The time felt like it dawdled on since then. Every day felt impossibly long, and the job you had taken on was menial and unsatisfying. There was no excitement to be had. Just a quiet existence among the many in Saffron. You did not stand out and you did not go out.
After all, it would only take one photo getting out to have you found.
That paranoid thought left you in a face mask and shades whenever you could. Something keep your existence hidden in the many that surrounded you. No one took notice of you on the busy subways of the city. Where you sat now, late at night and riding to the neighbourhood your small, cheap apartment was in.
Your ex had connections. Power. Things that made him intimidating even if he was not. It felt ridiculous doing all this, but… You just felt unhappy in the life he had wanted with you. He loved your passions as a trainer, yet he had expectations on him from his position that just seemed to go unrealised by him. It was frustrating. Suffocating, too. All the parties, the travel, the attention. You were a media darling at his side – Everyone loved your relationship.
Magazines still talked about your disappearance.
His father knew how to spin a story. Somehow, you had been taken by a certain business rival. There was an intense search for you. Your ex had cried in many interviews, pleading for your return. You felt bad seeing him cry, knowing he knew the truth. That you had left of your own accord. He wanted you back. His love was genuine. Even if he was a bit pushy, he would always back off if you pushed back. He was not a cruel, unfeeling man. You know that.
The train stopped, and the announcer called out your neighbourhood. You collected your items and got off, walking into the station. Everything was as it were – quiet and bustling, even at the later period. Most were like you, working dead-end jobs and just getting off. You soon enough found yourself stepping up the staircase to the second story apartment. A balcony let you look out into another apartment block. Pausing at your mailbox, you finally decided to check it.
It was always strangely nerve-wracking.
Opening it, you saw bills that you had already paid, junk mail…
And a single, plain envelope.
It was addressed to your real name.
A breath caught in your throat. You brought it in because, despite the intention of letting it go back to the return address, it lacked one.
The rest were dumped on your small table. Crashing onto the twin bed that creaked too much, you opened the envelope. It smelled of a familiar cologne.
“My darling gem,
How are you? I've been sending letters for a while now, but you have yet to reply. I kept receiving them back, so I assumed you took on a fake name. This one I let be delivered personally by someone in the area.
Have you heard our pleas? Dad and I have been trying endlessly to get your attention. Everyone is looking for you; I'm looking for you. My heart aches being away from you. Why did you leave? I'm sorry if I did anything to upset you. I wished we could have discussed things. You are my only love. I've never felt this way before.
Yours always,
Steven Stone.”
You crumbled up the paper and threw it in the rubbish. Panicked breaths wheezed up in your chest as you tried to calm yourself. It was short. Sweet. He was nothing but a gentleman. It made those feelings of guilt you felt for fleeing well up in your chest. There was a point in his words – why did you not discuss things with him? Why did you assume that fleeing everything was the option!?
Steven was kind. He loved you. But…
But, he had moments when he said things that made you chide him. It had been easy to brush them off as an inexperience in romance, yet… They left you unsettled when you considered them more and more. And, when he had become pushy about marriage… You rubbed your temples and leaned on the mattress.
Maybe your actions had been rash and dumb.
Exhaustion from work crashed into you.
You closed your eyes.
Sleep followed.
You woke up blearily. It was well past sunrise. There would have been concern had it not been your only day off in the week. Your sheet was tucked over you, letting you get warm in the comfort of your bed. The curtains were pulled shut. Yawning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. The scent of coffee stung your nose. It was comforting and familiar.
Then, it was not. You lived alone.
Your head whipped to the small kitchenette towards the entrance of your apartment. A coffee machine dripped dark liquid in a steady space. Your eyes slowly drew across the room to the table. A familiar man sat at it, sipping from your mug. He had a face mask sitting on the table and a cap on his head, but the hair colour was unmistakable.
“Good morning,” his voice was cheerful, and a bright smile was on his face, “Did you sleep well? I could hardly find it in myself to disturb you.” You tensed. He was speaking as if nothing were amiss. As if he, Steven fucking Stone, had not broken into your home. You stiffened your posture. A chuckled at your expression. “I've left… Oh, I don't know— around thirty letters for you,” he explained, “I never got a reply. I tried to tell you that I was coming home.” Was he delusional? You got up from the bed nervously, hoping to find a way out and away from him.
He stood up in turn, smiling so sweetly. You would never be able to tell anything was amiss. He sighed and stepped towards you. “Dad said a car would be in soon to pick us up,” he smiled, “A private plane will fly us back to Hoenn… And, then, we'll figure out more from there. “ You shook your head. Firmly, you told him no. His eyes went wide and mouth went agape. It was like he had not expected that response. He closed his eyes for a moment. “No, no,” Steven shook his head, “Everything is fine. I'm not mad. We… are having a disagreement, right? Wallace said this sometimes happens with couples…”
You tried to rush past him, but he caught you. The sound of a pokeball opening made your eyes go wide. His Metagross blocked your door. Steven shifted his hold on your waist into a hug, resting his forehead on the back of your neck.
“What did I do?” his voice was a whimper, “Why are you so upset!? You hid away for months without contacting me at all! I just want to love you! You love me, right!?” The feeling of warm tears against your skin made you tense. “We'll get through this,” he promised, “I'll make you happy. I love you. We're going to be a happy couple again.”
It was clear you had little choice in the matter— Not against Steven's endless resources and connections.
Hi! I just saw your post about living with Yandere Idia and i want to request one about living with Yandere Ruggie and Jamil post abduction?
Post Abduction
Feat: Ruggie, Jamil
Tw: yandere
Ruggie
I don’t think he’ll have access to a fancy sort of imprisonment facility (read: Styx’s Headquarters) in order to hold you, so Ruggie might just drag you kicking and screaming into his own home.
It’s a modest place, heat almost balmy against your skin. You’ll be bound against his bed’s headboard as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. Ruggie knows it isn’t exactly the most grandest home, but it is the one he’s always known, so just… try to make yourself comfortable, ok?
You’ll mainly be confined within his room, bounded by a mix of magic. Chains seem a little too much, honestly. He hates to see you shackled. Reminds Ruggie too much about that little fact that, y’know, you didn’t want to come here.
He’s not exactly in denial, but he believes that given enough time, you’ll come to love him as well. Stockholm syndrome and all that. So whenever you’re around him, Ruggie’s a little antsy. Fidgeting with his hands, and staring at your own. As if he’s deciding whether he wants to reach out to you, or he should keep waiting for you to touch him with those gentle fingers of yours….
He’s not opposed to using Laugh with me as a method to make you more…. Open to his affections, even if that means that he’ll have to wipe away your rage-filled tears as he embraces you, cooing sweet nothings into your ear.
Ruggie isn’t exactly above begging for your affections as well. If being on his knees, cheek nuzzling into your thigh pathetically is what it takes for you to give him even the slightest crumb of attention, Ruggie will take it.
But he’s rather lax with your behaviour in general. Most words of rebellion get a pass, and even a hit or two is just treated like a child throwing a tantrum. He’ll just hold you still with Laugh with Me in the afternoon sun until your features are scrunched up from fatigue, and your mind is hazy from dehydration.
Ruggie doesn’t want to hurt you, per se. He just wants you to understand that he’s just doing the best he can, and you should support him, as his loving partner. He starts playing into the idea that there’s two of him. Ruggie, your loving boyfriend, and Bucchi, the “persona” in charge of your punishments.
Being hated by you is the last thing he wants, but he has to instil some sort of fear in you, so this whole “alter ego” thing is the best idea in his mind.
Also, it ain’t the worst thing to have you cling onto his legs, snot and tears leaking all over his calf, begging for him not to call out “Bucchi”.
Y’know, you do look kinda cute all pathetic and sad like that! Maybe Bucchi will forgive you if you acted a lot more cuter, hm? How ‘bout you move your adorable self right onto Ruggie’s lap, and you two can see… what arrangements you two can make~
Jamil
He’s a careful man. You’ll be drugged and gently coaxed to Jamil’s home with surprising ease. He’s planned for every single situation, from the fact that you might rouse early, or if Kalim suddenly woke up in the middle in the night, looking for Jamil.
Due to the nature of his job, Jamil’s “home” for you would be a small room in the Al Asim estate, lent out for Jamil’s personal use. He claims it’s for his own sleeping quarters. Instead, he keeps the love of his life imprisoned within those velvet red covers, tied with ropes woven out of gold thread.
Yup. Totally for his own rest and relaxation. To give Jamil some credit, you do relax him. Especially since he knows that the only eyes that will lay on that tender skin of yours is his. He won’t exactly touch you without your consent, but he’s not subtle about wanting you to touch him.
He’ll lean his head against your lap when both of you are seated, clicking his tongue until your fingers run through his ebony locks, combing through them. Jamil is surprisingly not a big talker, especially when both of you are alone. He prefers to have your touch on his skin, the gentle clinking of his golden accessories the only sound echoing through the room.
He keeps your room locked up during the day, and at night? Jamil’s one step behind you all the way, leaning against your warmth. As a man who doesn’t like to admit his weakness, you find that he tends to melt the moment your palms presses against his shoulders.
He’s not the cruelest captor you might have, but he does get jealous rather easily. Spending too much time on a book, or maybe a console game he’s gotten for you? He’s tearing it right out of your hands, burning it into ashes. Jamil will even throw it away right in front of your eyes to make a point.
The only thing you should have eyes for in this world is him. That is how things should be. He works until he’s skin and bone to keep you in this room, to keep you nice and fed, so the least you could is to give him your devotion, can’t you?
Now, get on your knees and beg. Apologise, sing praises of his kindness, his sacrifice and maybe Jamil won’t do the same to your arm.
While you’re begging, crying and sniffling, Jamil’s going to snort, and wipe off your tears with a rough swipe of his jacket. Why all the dramatics? Was that so hard?
Jamil knows he can’t ask you to love him. All he seeks is just some understanding for his plight. Now, what can he do to make you little dumbass understand that, hm? Oh well, you’re lucky that he loves you so much.
cw: yandere, dark content, implied kidnapping and stalking
pairing: Corbeau/Reader
Your breath was caught in your throat as you hid in a locker of the Rust Syndicate HQ.
It had not been difficult to pick up on the boss of the group's feelings towards you; subtlety was not anything he felt an urge to work with. As soon as you had earned your place as a genuinely kind person, he had his sights set upon you. The rest of MZ was barely a thought in his mind. Throughout everything you had faced in Lumiose, you ultimately felt his presence. Jacinthe's tournament, Ange, and especially with the Hyperspace phenomena. It would have been easy to brush it off as nothing more than him seeing you as capable.
But… It was not. You knew it was not. Philippe remarked plainly about how you made Corbeau's mood brighten. You noticed how he often paused his work to give time to you. And the way he always seemed to have an eye out for you. You knew. So, you tried to distance yourself. It worked for a bit, but suddenly, you found yourself encountering him. He would be just curiously at a café you had gone into at random. He would insist upon sharing a table. At a boutique, he would appear to compliment your chosen items and offer to purchase them.
So, you had come to his office to inform of your departure from Lumiose. Finally, your time in the city was to come to a close. He had seemingly taken it well, sipping his tea and nodding along with your words. Suddenly, however, he announced plainly that you need not worry about things, as he would handle them. You insisted that you truly needed to return home, but he shot you a terrifying look. Something felt almost radioactive in his eyes. You sighed and stood up. Knowing he would not listen, you bid a farewell.
That was when things went awry, truly. He had sent out his Roserade and attempted to use Stun Spore. You narrowly dodged and rushed out in the elevator pressing any floor in your panic. That led to your current situation. Hiding in a locker and trying to control your breathing. Corbeau was dangerous. You knew that. It hardly occurred that he was so attached to you. Budding feelings of romance did not turn into attempted kidnapping.
The door of the locker room creaked open. You saw a shadow cast across the floor of the dark room. Your name was called out, almost playfully. “You know I don't like manual labour,” Corbeau crossed in front of the vent of the locker, stepping to glance around the room. “Come out,” he turned back to seemingly head towards the door, “We really need to finish our discussion. That's real rude of you to run off.” Just as he was about to walk back past, he shoved his face to peer into the vent.
“I'm not mad,” he stared directly into your eyes, “I just want to figure out some things.” You held your breath. Closing your eyes, you hoped he would leave.
The locker door flew open.
“Game's over,” his grin reminded you of his preferred type, “Found you.”
It appeared you would be at the whims of whatever he desired.
Once again, I don't know what that title means. I think it has nothing to do with this fic. Who cares, I guess? Also, holy crap the conception of this one was WEIRD. Sorry for any OOC. THIS WAS A REQUEST AS WELL, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE @therealkipit!!! (let me know if you want me to remove that tag!) Line dividers by @/cafekitsune!!
This fic is for: Anyone! This is more mind fuck than body fuck. Reader is referred to with gender-neutral terms (they/them pronouns too) Reader is also a third year! This is important.
TW FOR: Possibly OOC Kalim, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Gloomy!Reader, Nonconsensual touching but no sex or suggestive, mention of identification documents and bureaucracy.
Kalim is set to graduate in one week. He came back to visit, taking a break from his internship, and as you open the door to Ramshackle and accidentally whack him with it, you remember why you’re excited and also sad that he is leaving.
You know Crowley is never going to find you a way home. The man simply does not care that much about it. You’ve been alright with this, and your questions for him melted from “When will I go home,” to “Can you help me get documentation?” You sort of wished that this form of bureaucracy was left behind in your world, but alas, you’re stuck without documentation, wondering what you’ll do once you have to leave NRC and go out into the world. Grim said he might join one of the larger mage associations, and you smiled and nodded along as he prattled on and on and on about it as you looked at your savings.
Kalim is set to graduate in one week, and a year from now, you will be in his shoes. It’s easy to forget when he rubs his arm after being hit with the door and scoops you into a great big hug.
“Surprise! I bet you didn’t think I’d be coming by to see you!” He said, squeezing you tighter.
Your breathing turned into a little puff of a wheeze as you replied, “Hi, Kalim.”
He chuckled and let you go, grinning all the while as he looked you over, “Man, I missed you so much. Don’t worry, I did bring you gifts.”
“What?”
He did mean “gifts.” As in plural. More than one gift. It was a procession of a bunch of opulent garbage that you would never use- you even spotted a jewel-encrusted planter pot and a solid gold serpent statue- and he seemed so proud of himself.
It wasn’t ungratefulness. You did like the thought more than the gifts, and it is the thought that counts, but you had no real sense of what to do with any of this stuff. Your mouth opened and closed and you swallowed then lifted your arms to try to get Kalim to pause, “Hey, wait. What am I going to do with any of this?”
Kalim turned to look at you, crimson eyes taking on a somewhat sharp look, and he frowned so sweetly as he said, “What do you mean? You definitely could use a new coffee maker, and I thought you liked plants.”
There was a coffee maker in there, but it was also far too opulent, and besides, you didn’t ever buy coffee. Sam sold it for far too high a price for what it was worth, and you didn’t like trying to haggle with the man. It’s a Sisyphean task that you spare yourself the stress of doing if you can. As for plants, you do, but you didn’t need the… oh, there were two of them. Two jewel encrusted planting vessels.
This was an issue before he left for his internship. Kalim waved over the people carrying everything and smiled at you, “Don’t worry. It’s okay to enjoy the gifts I get you still.”
That was also an issue. Instead of deeming it sheer disbelief, he always would assume you were being humble. He liked to do this, so you shouldn’t be shy. He knew you could use this very expensive wrist watch, so please don’t be humble. He was certain you liked ponies, so you shouldn’t act so upset.
You were happy he was graduating in a week. You were sad he was graduating in a week. The whole thing sucks. Happy that you wouldn’t be bombarded with very, very expensive, and, therefore and inseparably in your head, fragile gifts. Sad that you may never see him after he goes back home to Scalding Sands. Happy that he wouldn’t always push you around. Sad that you wouldn’t be able to see his grin or laugh at his antics anymore.
Regardless, you had places to be, “Hey, uh, Kalim, I am happy to see you and… thank you, for the gifts, but, um, I have class.”
He laughed, “Oh, whoops. I forgot about that. How about I walk with you?”
“Sure.”
You’re so sad that Kalim is graduating. He’s cheery about every little thing, how they haven’t changed any of this, how this is different, how excited he is to see if Trein is still cranky, how he’s excited to see how much all the rest of your year has grown.
When you go into your class, he waves and sits outside, waiting. When you come back out, he’s still there. He’s frowning at his phone. It’s not often that he makes that expression, glossy lips pulled taut, but when he notices your presence, he smiles again.
“It’s lunchtime for you, right? Why don’t I walk you to the cafeteria?” He stands.
“Sounds like you’re gonna do something else.”
He just smiles wider. He chatters on and on- his little brothers did this, Jamil said that, he had this for dinner the other night- it’s not anything important, but it matters enough to him for him to mention it to you.
When you get to the cafeteria, he lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles at you, rolling his hand down to your upper arm, squeezing once he gets to your hand. He looks at you with utmost adoration, but there’s something… off.
The regard he is giving you is not unusual. Perhaps that’s the odd part. Reading emotions in the eye is difficult enough as it is, but his whole expression is bizarre. He’s only barely smiling, lips only turned up at the corners, rather than the full expression smile that he usually makes. It’s hard to say it this way, but he’s holding his cheeks weird. His cheekbones are high but not defined, but something about the face he’s making is causing him to look a little less rounded, more haunted than anything.
Haunted is probably the best way you could say that. Your throat feels dry, “Uh… Kalim?”
He smiles a bit wider, and squeezes your hand, “I have to go to a meeting with the Headmage. So… I probably won’t be able to walk you to your next class.”
You blink a few times, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah, that’s fine. Have a good meeting with Crowely.”
He leans forward a hair, then straightens and pulls you into a short-lived hug before he runs down the hallway in the other direction. You enter the cafeteria.
Nothing is new, except for the physical material of the food. You pick the same thing as always, sit with the same people, watch as Ace flings a glob of cottage cheese at Grim, watch as Grim retaliates too far and hits Deuce, watch as Sebek gets that very funny offended expression and blinks at the speck of mustard that landed on his pristine cuff. Watch as Epel lifts his entire tray and launches it at Grim, which entirely misses and hits some poor Ignihyde student.
The food fight is new. You don’t feel like sitting under the cold stream of water later, trying to wash the cemented food out of your hair, and this uniform is not that easy to wash in the bathtub. Everyone else has magic or better methods, so you hit a crawl and leave the cafeteria, walking to your next class alone. You’re too busy thinking about the bittersweetness of life anyway.
You remember finding Kalim annoying for all of ten seconds when you first met him outside of the whole Scarabia thing. He spoke to you like you’d known him forever, and you didn’t like it… at first. It’s an interesting pet peeve, more than anything else. Before long, he actually did know you, And you knew him.
It's interesting that it isn't that incredibly hard to remember any of his siblings’ names. They're not alphabetical, but once you see pictures of them, their names match their faces. As far as you can tell, Kalim loves each of them dearly. You can remember exactly once in the three years you’ve known Kalim where he got into an argument with one of his brothers… Shijan, you think his name is, but it was short lived and Kalim was back his general self quickly.
It’s interesting that he never stops wanting to share. You worried at one point that someone would take advantage of his generosity, but for the most part, most people just seem baffled by his energy and don’t ask for more than he gives them. You still have his cardigan after he lent it to you two years ago. You tried to give it back, but he just wrapped it around you again when you handed it to him, so you have it. Sometimes you’ll wear it like a robe around Ramshackle, or to sleep in, especially when the nights get drafty.
It is interesting that he chose to be friends with you. You suppose on a campus of this type, where everyone has magical ability except for you, you are special, but it is difficult for you to view yourself as such when back home, you are breathtakingly normal. Kalim is like the sun; he hurts your eyes the longer you look at him, but you don’t want to move away from his warmth. You can’t help but wonder why he chose to become close to you, even though he has a habit of making friends wherever he goes.
Kalim graduates in four days. You’re happy. You’re sad. You’re conflicted.
As your next class begins and you diligently take notes, you notice something from the corner of your eye. Kalim is waving at you through the little window in the door. You can’t help a smile and a little wave back, and he strolls in like he is supposed to be there, taking a seat beside you.
A bit unusual, but even more strange is the fact that no one else says anything. You barely move as he wraps an arm around your waist and falls asleep.
At the end of class, you poke his side, standing and packing up. He smiles as he watches you work, his voice light.
“What’s your next class?” He’s speaking very loudly.
You glance over your shoulder, “Uh… Flight. But you know how… You know how Vargas has ‘accomodated’ me.”
He nods, smiling like he’s just heard the best news of his life, “You should cut that class with me. Let Grim do all the work for once.”
That’s… distinctly out of character for him. You straighten and pull your bag over your shoulder, eyes narrowed, “Wow, that’s a bit mean.”
He laughs, “Well, he’s not here right now, is he?”
“No, there was a food fight in the cafeteria.” You reply, eyes narrowing as you think about how gross his fur is going to be later.
“Okay. So come on a walk with me instead.”
You want to tell him that just because he’s a fourth year student and you’re not magic doesn’t mean you can skip class to go do who knows what, but you haven’t seen him in so long. Who cares if he’s acting a bit entitled to your time? You’d rather hang out with him than run laps and do burpees.
You purse your lips and nod, and he grabs your hand, basically dragging you out of the astrology classroom.
He walks straight to this shady little spot behind the library, tucked away between trees, and flourishes, “Surprise! You’ve had such a gloomy look on your face the whole time I’ve been here. Whenever I feel sad, I just eat something good and feel better.”
It’s a picnic. You recognize Jamil’s cooking anywhere, too. Your chest flutters as Kalim pulls you to take a seat, eyes stinging as he begins pouring tea.
You snort as he begins dumping sugar into the cup, overloading it until it’s more a syrup than a drink. He’s always done that. It doesn’t taste cloying to him, you think, but maybe it’s also a power thing. He explained it was a show of wealth ages ago. You think it may still be a show of wealth today, considering how much dental care one would need to undo the damages of one sip of Kalim’s specialty tea.
The picnic is lovely. Kalim keeps falling silent in between his tirades, and it’s clear he’s trying to gauge what’s on your mind. You cannot tell him, though. If you let slip that you’re not sure where you will go when you’re in his shoes, because it’s been three years and Crowley is absolutely not looking for your way back to your world, and you don’t have any identification or certificates that could let you get a job and most reputable employers will laugh in your face if you tell them you’re from another dimension, and you can’t expect to live off of Crowley’s limited charity forever, however magnanimous he claims to be, then Kalim will kill himself trying to save you.
Because he’s like that. He’s so good. You’re not sure why he even wants to be around you
So you smile and laugh and nod along to his stories a bit more, helping him pack up before walking back to your dorm with him at your shoulder. He isn’t good at your best subject, but he is good at your worst, so he helps you with your homework for that and shivers at the draft. You yawn and stand up, going into the kitchen only to find that a certain little monster has eaten your leftovers once again. You want to cry for a moment- today was already too much- but you suck it back down, because Kalim is in the other room. Instead, you crack open a box of pasta and get to cooking.
You’re not a huge fan of how cold this place has remained. You would say “how cold this place is” if it was just the cold spots from the ghosts, but you’re not blind to the cracks near the siding, the holes in the roof, the chipped paint exposing weathered panels. Ramshackle is cobbled together with duct tape and chewing gum, you think. It’s tacked together with upholstery nails and the will of the builder. The building has more interesting history than you ever will.
Kalim appears in the doorway, breathing in deeply, “Oh, that smells great!”
“Does it? It’s just buttered noodles. Nothing incredible.”
“It’s incredible if you make it.” He mumbles.
You don’t prefer Grim keeping you company when you’re cooking, but obviously he’s off doing who knows what. If he saw Kalim in here, he’d get super cranky. And you’d feel the need to apologize, even though you aren’t doing anything wrong. Kalim doesn’t shed, but Grim does, which is why you don’t like him in here while you’re cooking. A little hair never hurt anyone, but also it wholly did. Nothing is worse than biting into something when you’re hungry and finding that it is full of hair.
Kalim must have been saying something, since he says your name and you have no clue what he was talking about. He smiles and repeats himself, “What’s the matter?”
“Oh. I was thinking about Grim.”
“He’s fine, I’m sure. Why?”
“Well… I feel a little guilty for cutting Flight without him.” You murmur, scooping the buttered noodles into two containers.
Kalim doesn’t respond. When you glance at him, you think he’s frowning, but the expression only lasts a moment before he smiles again and excuses himself to make a phone call.
Grim ignores you for the next two days, unless you have food. You don’t mind sharing, even if he’s being a little asshole about it. You adore the wretched little beast.
And Kalim… for the next two days, he remains glued to your side. This wasn’t unusual last year or the year before, so rather than feeling unusual, it feels like a return to the norm. Your best friend is back in town, but it’s a short return.
Kalim is graduating tomorrow. It’s Thursday. The ceremony is tomorrow. You want to cry and cheer louder than anyone else can. You have to keep from crying every time you make eye contact with him. You can tell he’s growing concerned, but you don’t feel that you should start talking about what the issue is. This is a good week for him. You’re happy for him.
You start crying when you step into the staff bathroom. You aren’t supposed to be in here, but it’s your free period and you don’t want to sob like a kid lost in the supermarket while you’re in the regular bathrooms. So you sit in the staff restroom and accept the shame and possible disciplinary action in favor of having a good cry.
You find yourself wanting to grasp at fragments of Kalim even though he’s still here. You wore his cardigan today, the fancy pair of satin soled socks he gave you years ago. When he is back home in Scalding Sands, will he remember you? Will he want to keep being your friend?
It’s not unusual for a loss in proximity to affect the way your peers view you. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder” is only viable when both parts of the distance view each other with the same regard. You think of Kalim as a very close friend, but you’ve never gotten confirmation as to how he thinks of you. You suppose that’s fine. It hurts, but it’s fine.
You cough and get up, wiping your face and pressing cold water against your eyes. You expect to open the door and see a teacher there, but you’re alone. You walk back to Ramshackle alone.
The respite is nice, and you-
You’re pretty certain that there was not an elephant in the front yard when you left this morning. You cautiously approach the beast, and it bumps your face with its trunk.
“Hello to you too.”
You’re pretty sure the elephant is smiling. You kind of want to smile too. It’s not necessarily a dog, but you get the urge to check for a name tag, petting the beast and finding nothing of the sort. Kalim exits the front door of Ramshackle and you point at the elephant, who is now playing with your necktie.
Kalim laughs, “Oh! She’s yours!”
“What?” You feel that hot swell of disbelief once more, and Kalim, “I don’t think that’s ethical.”
“What do you mean? It’s fine; you should give her a name.” Kalim says, “You walk everywhere, I thought you could use a ride.”
“So you gave me an elephant? I don’t know how to take care of an elephant!” You squawk, even as the elephant plays with your hair.”I don’t know where I’ll keep her! She’s too big to go with the horses and I would not be able to make it to class on time even if I ever did ride her, which I also don’t know how to do!”
“So… you don’t want the elephant?” His voice sounds so small. He tilts his head and juts out his bottom lip.
Before you can respond or he can say anything else, the afternoon gets more ridiculous. Crowley materializes, tilting his hat to Kalim and smiling at you.
You hate that expression. You hate it even more when he says, “Have you already packed?”
You don’t get the chance to ask him what the hell he is talking about because Kalim responds with, “Ah… haha… ha, well, there goes the surprise. I’ve already packed for them, headmage.”
“Wait, hold on. ‘Packed’? Am I missing something?”
Crowley moves in that incredibly practiced manner and you almost want to scream as he goes on one of his tirades, hand on his chest, “As you know, you have been my ward for three years, and I view you as my own child. I am so very pleased to announce that you will be marrying into the Al Asim family! What fortune for you!”
You’re not really sure what to feel. You sort of just slowly turn to look at Kalim, and he smiles at you, “Surprise!”
You shiver and take a step away from him when he walks towards you. His lips part and his warm hand grabs your own. You grab his hand to try pulling it away and turn your attention back to Crowley.
“When were you going to tell me about this if you didn’t come by today? A month from now? I’ve been trying to get a meeting with you since last month!”
The headmage clicks his tongue, “Ah- I’m a very busy man, prefect. What did you want to meet about?”
You rip away from Kalim, taking a shaky step towards Crowley. You can’t care that Kalim hears this, since obviously you are part of a plot you aren’t privy to. You jab a finger at Crowley’s chest, “I’m graduating in a year, and you can’t make time for me? I don’t want to stay here forever. I know you aren’t looking for a way to send me back home.”
Crowley doesn’t move away, just staring at your finger. Kalim speaks up instead, “That’s why you’re coming home with me. If you’re my spouse, then you don’t have to worry about anything… you’d be safe.”
Your head begins to pound, “And you didn’t think to mention that you wanted to get married to me?”
You look between Crowley and Kalim. Crowley grins, bowing to Kalim with a flourish and stepping away. He fades into nothing and you want to scream. You crouch down instead, wanting nothing more than to get violent. Kalim’s hand is warm on your back.
“It’s a win-win situation,” his voice is quiet. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d get upset. You’re always so upset. Once you’re home, it’ll be okay.”
“I’m never going home.”
“Yeah, you are.” His lips on your temples are like soft little feathers, sickeningly gentle, “You’re going home with me.”
You kind of want to commit a crime. Crimes don’t seem particularly steady here, and you’re not sure what is and isn’t against the law.
Kalim keeps talking, “I made some accommodations for Grim too, since you two are obviously a package deal. And… You can keep the phone the headmage gave you… but I’ll probably get you a better one. Yours isn’t connected to our network anyway.”
He kisses your cheek this time. You reach up and push his face away, “Stop.”
“I’m sorry. But I’ll make you so happy. I promise.” He smiles ever wider, shuffling so he’s crouched in front of you. He’s making that awful face again, the weird one that isn’t a smile but also is a smile. His lips stretch as he slides his hands over yours and looping his fingers where yours part, “I guess it’s a good thing that he spoiled your surprise. Saves me a bit of logistical planning. Come on.”
“Why would I go with you?”
Kalim stands up and gives you a smile that makes you wonder why you ever thought you knew him. Why you ever wanted to know him, why you ever wanted to be his friend. It makes you regret ever feeling upset that he was going to graduate. The man staring down at you is a stranger.
His eyes narrow a bit, the irises like two spots of blood, a warning that you ignored all those years ago, and he gently says, “Do you have anywhere else to go?”
