Oooh, Fluff You Say 👀👀 I Think I Have One Fluffy Scenario If You Don't Mind It Hehehe 💚 How

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Keep reading

The Worshiper Series

Long ago, there were gods who resided in Heaven — existing to watch over and protect the universe. Each of them had their own flaws, trials and tribulations; some which were more sparing than others, but these are their stories…

► Important Note: each of these can be read independently on their own, but for best understanding and comprehension, read in the order below from top to bottom.

Goddess of Light and Life!OC x God of Moon!Yoongi

► 9.4k | 90% Angst, 10% Fluff

► The universe was created with four gods to rule and watch over it. But when you take the crown and become the god of all gods, what the future holds is something you never wanted to know.

➜ Read Here

Human!OC x Human!Hoseok

► 19.5k | 85% Angst, 15% Fluff | War!AU

► The Great War was started by one mortal. One man that was not blinded by prayer and devotion. A peasant who knew that the gods were cruel. And through his suffering, he had one ambition — to kill a god.

➜ Read Here

Goddess of Sky!OC x Sacrifice!Taehyung

► 35k | 80% Fluff, 20% Angst

► He wonders why the sky doesn’t cry for him. After all, he is a sacrifice to a god whose name he never heard of. A sacrifice to a god that everyone had forgotten about. A god who controls weather through emotions.

➜ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

??!OC x God of Wine!Jimin

► 9.5k | 55% Angst, 40% Fluff, 5% Smut

► The God of Wine is carefree and indulgent. Unlike many others who depend on pride and dignity, he does not care that he is not a powerful god. But when he stumbles upon a forest in the mortal realm, he discovers what desperation and anguish means.

➜ Read Here

Ghost!OC x King of the Underworld!Namjoon

► 5.4k | 95% Angst, 4% Fluff, 1% Smut

► The King of the Underworld was denounced and exiled from Heaven as a god. But with your help, he may rise to power once more and claim his rightful throne.

➜ Read Here

Pirate!OC x God of Sea!Jungkook

► 16.3k | 98% Fluff, 2% Angst

► You are the greatest pirate to set sail across the ocean and self-proclaimed ruler of the ocean. But when the true God of the Sea catches wind of your hubris, he punishes you — taking your legs and turning it into a tail.

➜ Read Here

Goddess of Love!OC x God of Sun!Seokjin

► 15.5k | 70% Fluff, 20% Angst, 10% Smut

► After the war, the God of Sun married the Goddess of Love to exemplify that such devastation will never occur again. But you knew his affections were untrue and fled. After a century, Seokjin goes looking for you to bring you back home.

➜ Read Here

Additional Information: Worshiper Series fun facts can be found here.

Brainrot over Foul Legacy being an oversized cat around Darling Reader after he gets us to the Tsaritsa. She simply cannot pry him from us since, him being the only person (er… abyssal creature) that didn’t throw stones and insults at us, is the only source of comfort for their god. She might try to get him to leave but it seems that reader is much more calm with him around, after all, they were being chased by humans and FL doesn’t look all that human, right? So he keeps his privileges as your bodyguard and comfort moth/abyss monster. You two are basically glued together after what happened in liyue so:

Cue shenanigans:

Imagine throwing a yarn ball at him, he gets the string tangled all over his face, claws and horns, maybe it was intentional, maybe it was not, bu he loves the sound of your laugh; so hearty and joyful compared to before.

I’m FIXATED on his fluffy neck, that stuff is probably more comfortable than any pillow in al the nations, you can’t change my mind. You can probably crash onto his neck and pass out in minutes, he would be purring like no tomorrow. When the tsaritsa comes to investigate the sound he is so smug- (if tsaritsa is jelly she HAS to let it slide because no mothman= sad god, and she loves u so much)

When you pester them enough, aka. Just give them puppy eyes, they might let you have a short stroll tru the snow (look, i have NEVER seen snow im goin off on what movies show) with both of them accompanying you on the chilly path, childe basically goes ‘murp!’ When you throw a snowball at him. Have fun trying to land another one, he keeps zooming around like a cat. Tsaritsa might ACTUALLY LAUGH (just a little, just for you).

Would, without a doubt, catch you the single biggest fish you have seen in your godamm life. Pls pet him, he looks so proud, how can you not.(you heartless monster)

PURRS! He purrs so much around you, after he noticed you liked it, he kept doing it because he thinks it makes you feel safe and have a spacial orientation of WHERE he is in the room. (He can be deadly silent when he needs but doesn’t want to spook u) It also serves for the Tsaritsa because if she hears purring she instantly knows you are with Tartaglia and you are safe. (She also has had some problems with him going missing and coming back weeks later so its a plus to know where he is 24/7)

Bleps. Thats it, he sometimes pokes his tongue from the front of his mask to make you laugh and receive headpats.

Not you both tip toeing to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a cup of tea. In theory, it could work, childe himself can be silent as a grave. But he is in his FL form, you know, the one with a stardust cape, some bright af protrusions from his back, that pearl eye that practically glows in the dark- you only make it to the first corridor before you have to scamper back to your room or fear being snitched by another harbinger-

Would he sleep on that island the Tsaritsa calls a bed? Yes. Yes he would. If you are comfortable with him being glued to your side prepare for cuddles, just mind the sharp edges, but you can hide on his fluff. If you prefer him to mind the space he can take the lower part of the bed, dw its big enough. And yes, he keeps purring.

Gets frighteningly in-tone with your emotions and body language; should you tense up at sudden movements or people he will hiss and growl until they take the hint or he can take you away from the situation. (He can only do that to everyone BUT the Tsaritsa, he cannot lose his privileges) Actually, in lieu of this, he can be in the other side of the palace for whatever reason and still sense your mood.

Scaramouche having a staring competition with Childe to see who gets to hang out with you one day. Both don’t need/can’t blink so its a long time until they realize that and until they do you have been spending time with Tsaritsa, happily cuddling in a sea of furs while she reads over some documents.

Will probably plop you into his lap/shoulder/hands at some point and not let you go, demanding head scratching as ransom.

Everyone in the palace has seen it yet cannot believe how did you manage to tame the beast that is the 11th Harbinger Tartaglia. If there were any doubts amongst the newer recruits or higher ranked officials, it is dissipated by now, for surely you MUST be someone special to have this effect in the Tsaritsa and her best soldiers. Such beliefs are set into stone after some poor soul comes across you when Childe was away in some mission and they got to actually see you in person.

There is no mistake, for your being itself carries the golden aura of divinity and the might of the stars in the tips of your fingers.

————————->

Whew, that was a lot XD

Anyways, I suddenly fell in love with the concept of the Tsaritsa being a single mom of the miss match family that is the Fatui and Childe being the troublemaker son with FL being an oversized cat.

Anyways! Love your content! Keep the hard work and thanks for everything! <3

I read this over three times literally starry eyed of how in love i was so here take this 🧍🏻‍♀️ also I'll be adding another part because I can't do it all in one jffhkdnd

If anyone were to pass by your wing in the Zapolyarny Palace, they would've been met with the sound of such a joyful and bright laughter it would've made them smile as well, as though the joy was contagious.

The source of the laughter was you— and the cause of it was Childe in his Foul Legacy form, grumbling as he attempted to pry the colorful strings of yarn away from clawed hands, arms, face, and horns. He only managed to wrap more around himself, making your laugh even louder, to the point where by now you were wheezing and struggling to breathe.

"This isn't funny!" Childe sputtered in that distorted voice, yet anybody could've easily noted that he didn't even sound bothered. "Have mercy on me, your grace! How will I even protect you like this!?"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you snickered into your hands, gesturing for him to come close. Without even a second's worth of hesitation did you plop yourself down on his lap— it was easier for you to sit that way rather than try to reach Childe in this form any other way. Besides, from the way he immediately began those purrs of his you were sure that he liked it this way, too.

With a scissor, you snipped away at the strings until Childe could finally be freed from his dramatic imprisonment. That done, he laid his big head on your shoulder and began to purr deep from his chest in a way you've become happily familiar with.

"Waitttt," you drawled off, pushing at his chest until he took his head off your shoulder— more specifically, removed the treacherously soft fluff around his neck away from your face. "You know how that thing makes me want to nap all day but—"

"If you want to nap you should nap, your grace. I will protect as I have always done—"

"But I want to go outside today!" You insisted, eyes already turning back to the giant windows of your room. The skies were clear now, as opposed to last night's snowstorm that left the world draped in blanket bright white snow.

Childe whined, shaking his head. "But isn't today too cold? Tomorrow would be a better choice, no?"

"Pulcinella said it'll rain tomorrow," you replied, moving away from him to don a warm, thick cloak that had been draped over a chair. If it happened to be the Tsaritsa's own cloak from when she visited you earlier, well you were sure she wouldn't mind. "I'll even ask the Tsaritsa herself—"

"Ask me what, your excellency?" And there she is! You made your way over to her side without any of your previous fear, a knowledge that had her (and Childe) secretly very smug and happy.

"Let's go out to the gardens, pretty please, Дорогая?" You gave her what you thought was your best puppy eyes, hands clasped with hers. "I've been cooped up for too long what with that snowstorm and Childe being away on a mission. . ."

The Tsaritsa frowned. "Had I known sooner that you felt most comfortable with him I wouldn't have sent him away; I'm sorry, your excellency. But for your request. . ." Your were sure she was going to refuse you, yet her words died down when she realized you were wearing her own cloak.

"Very well," she sighed, though her hand moved to cup your jaw gently. "But please dress warmer, alright?"

"Of course!"

The gardens were closed off to the public, thus you, her, and Childe had more than enough privacy and area for you to be happily moving and going around. At one point, however, you gently led the Tsaritsa away and Childe busied himself to give you two privacy.

"This is an embarrassing request," you began, though there was a bright, mischievous grin on your face. "But can you make a, uh, a snow fort for me?"

"A snow fort?" She furrowed her brows, but still did as you asked— and her confusion melted away when you thanked her with a beaming smile.

"Childe?~" you sang, a snowball prepared in your hand. When he excitedly showed up, you threw it straight at his masked face with no regrets.

The sound he made had you howling with laughter and even the Tsaritsa chuckling behind her hand, even when Childe expertly dodges all the next snowballs you throw at him.

──・──・・ ♡ ・・──・──

"I didn't realize I was to be target practice for today, you grace," Childe was teasing you, you in his arms per the Tsaritsa's orders after you spent more than half the day fooling around in the snow.

"Shush," you chuckled, though your eyes were already growing heavy— really, it was criminal how soft and warm the fluff around Childe's neck was, and how safe you felt with him and the Tsaritsa. . .

Childe floated through the Palace halls to reach your wing, and just when he was a turn away from it did two agents crash past him. They were already loud, and most definitely didn't lower their voices when they caught sight of Childe's Foul Legacy form.

Childe himself wasn't bothered, but he was not blind to how their voices and ruckus made your features twist, rest disturbed— and he could not have that.

He growled, hold protective on you as that peal eye of his stared straight at the two cowering agent. "Silence! Leave, or else I'll make a wonderful example out of your hides,"

The two scrambled away fast, but this time they made sure not to cause the same ruckus as before— good, otherwise not only would've they been answering Childe, but the Tsaritsa herself.

Soon enough he had reached your room; divesting you of your boots and cloak, he joined you on the bed and tucked you close once more to his neck— a position that has by now became familiar to both you and him.

Childe can't help but begin to purr, deep and soothing, and pull you into his arms without hurting you with the sharp edges of armour. He let sleep pull him into slumber, confident in his abilities to protect should anything happen.

That was how the Tsaritsa found the both of you later, with Childe's happy purring almost making the bed trembling and you soundly asleep.

At least she won't have to worry about you being unprotected or unhappy (and she could now easily tell if Childe was with you, quite the bonus).

Stolen Orbit

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: alien au, yandere jk, dark horror, enemies to lovers,

summary: you were meant for eradication with the rest of your planet—erased without a trace, just another speck in the galaxy's endless purge. but jeongguk saw you. fragile, insignificant... human. and something his kind had long forgotten stirred in him. Instead of erasing your existence, he took you, stole you from extinction and made you his.

now you live in a celestial cage, adored and possessed by something not quite capable of love, but desperate to keep you. he doesn't understand your fear, your resistance, but he craves your surrender all the more because of it. and if it takes breaking you to make you his completely... he will.

warnings: slow burn, mass extermination, alien jungkook forced captivity/proximity, psychological manipulation, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, ritualistic copulation

word count: 5,857

The Beginning

The sky split open the night they came. You didn’t see it at first, no one did.

You brushed your teeth that night. Standing in your tiny bathroom beneath flickering fluorescent lights, humming faintly to music you can’t remember anymore. A song that cut out mid chorus when everything else did.

You paused, frowned, the mirror vibrated faintly, a shiver running across your reflection. Confused, you flicked the light switch. Nothing.

Reach for your phone. Dead.

Outside, the city dimmed as though someone had thrown a heavy blanket over the world. Buildings blinked out, window by window. Cars stalled silently in the streets.

Then came the sirens. Low and unearthly, vibrating deep in your chest rather than ringing in your ears.

You pressed your palms to the vanity, trying to pinpoint the source.

No alarms.

No helicopters.

No dogs barking or people yelling in the distance.

Just… stillness.

Until the sky broke.

You saw it from your window, face pale in the glass as blackness carved itself across the heavens like a wound tearing through flesh.

It didn’t glow or rage, it hummed.

And through that terrible void came beams of sterile white light.

You watched—paralyzed—as they swept through the streets, swallowing people whole. No fire, no blood, they simply ceased.

Your neighbor clutching her husband on the balcony. The delivery boy halfway up the stairs. A child pedaling frantically on his bicycle.

Gone.

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. By the time your legs remembered how to function, chaos had bloomed outside.

Screams.

Desperate, useless prayers. People running without knowing where safety even existed.

It didn’t matter.

Your chest crushed inward as panic overtook you. You grabbed your phone, screaming into dead silence, dialing numbers that wouldn’t connect.

Your father’s voicemail.

Your sister’s disconnected line.

The beams moved without emotion, erasing everything they touched as easily as wiping chalk from a board. You don’t remember deciding to run. You don’t remember leaving your apartment. You only remember the maintenance tunnels.

You shoved yourself beneath concrete and metal, nails splitting and bleeding as you slammed the hatch shut above you.

And there you stayed.

For minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Time broke.

The silence that followed was not peaceful.

It was dead.

::::::::::::

When you woke, it was worse. Not because you survived. Not even because the world was gone.

But because you weren’t there anymore.

Your eyes opened to sterility. Smooth, seamless walls of faintly glowing white, like pearl carved from bone. No corners or seams. Just endless smoothness in every direction, as though the room itself were grown rather than built.

There were no windows.

No doors.

Only a faint humming, familiar and yet not. Not the gentle whir of an AC or the buzz of old light bulbs. This was deeper, vibrating at a frequency that scraped against the base of your skull. It sounded like something alive.

You sat up too fast, your breath catching painfully in your throat.

The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, molding to your shape like memory foam, but it didn’t feel right. It smelled faintly of something sweet and sterile, like a flower that had never known dirt.

You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, your head spinning.

“Hello?” you rasped. No answer, just the never ending hum.

You tried again.

“HELLO?”

Your voice echoed strangely, rebounding without substance, as though the room itself were swallowing the sound.

A prickling sensation raced down your spine as you scrambled to your feet. Your legs were weak and shaky, like you hadn’t used them in days. You stumbled toward the nearest wall and pressed your palms flat against it.

It was warm.

Not cold like metal. Not smooth like glass.

Warm, as though the structure around you was some kind of living skin.

You recoiled instinctively.

“What the fuck,” you whispered.

Your chest heaved as you tried to remember.

Where were you?

Where was your family?

Had you died?

The last thing you remembered was hiding. Listening to the world end. And then— nothing. Your stomach twisted violently. Panic set in like lead poisoning, slow but lethal. You began slamming your fists against the wall.

“LET ME OUT!”

“WHERE AM I?!”

Nothing. No doors appeared, no voices responded. But the hum grew louder, though, it didn’t feel or sound angry. Not mechanical.

It sounded oddly interested.

You froze, pressing your back against the bed as a low chime resonated throughout the space. The wall directly across from you rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone, and opened.

A doorway formed from nothing, and something stepped through.

At first, you thought he was wrong. Everything about him felt off in ways your mind couldn’t fully process.

Tall—towering—with limbs too graceful and too fluid to be comforting.

Skin pale and luminous, glowing softly from within, threaded with faint iridescence that shifted as he moved. Hair dark and weightless, littered with braids adorned with glimmering otherworldly metals, drifting as though underwater. Framing features too symmetrical, too perfect.

And his eyes.

They were unsettling, solid black at first glance.

But as he drew closer, they shifted—illuminated galaxies of silver, violet, and deep cosmic blues, swirling softly in patterns that hurt to stare at for too long.

You stumbled backward, your legs colliding with the bed as your pulse thundered.

He did not flinch, but instead stepped closer.

Graceful. Effortless.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every primitive instinct screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you. He tilted his head as he regarded you.

Not cruelly, not kindly. Curiously.

His voice slid across your mind rather than your ears.

“You are… fragile.”

You flinched, shaking your head as if a bug was caught in your hair. The words felt invasive, sliding into your consciousness without permission.

He stepped closer.

“I am Jeongguk.”

The name thrums with alien cadence, yet tastes almost familiar in your mind. His glowing eyes flicker faintly, as if pleased by your terror.

“You reside aboard Virexum,” he continues calmly. “This vessel collects and preserves what remains after eradication.”

“Eradication?” you whisper, voice hollow.

“Earth was terminated.”

A pause, as if considering how much you can process. “Your species had reached decay. Pollution. War. Rot. The Kaereth do not preserve weakness. We cleanse.”

The words hit harder than any weapon. You shake your head violently, sobbing openly now.

Your father, your sister. They’re…gone?

“No. No, you can’t— you didn’t—”

“It was mercy.”

His voice softens slightly, but not kindly. “Existence without evolution is entropy. The Kaereth do not allow suffering. We end it.”

You can’t breathe.

You drop to your knees, pressing your palms to your face as the horror swells and breaks inside you.

But he does not.

Tears flooded your vision, hot and blinding as your sobs shattered the sterile silence, ugly and helpless.

He watches you the way one might watch a dying star—quietly admiring, deeply fascinated.

When you finally stilled, he crouched before you, his claws retracting as he reached out. You recoiled instinctively, but he only touched your hair, brushing it back from your damp face with a tenderness that felt foreign.

“I did not erase you,” he murmurs.

You flinch, but his hand cradles your face delicately, tipping it up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You glowed,” he says, softer now. Almost enthralled.

“Amidst destruction, you clung to life. You burned brighter than the dying world around you. You will not suffer,” he said quietly. “You are mine now. You will be kept.”

Kept.

The word echoed as he stood again, gesturing to the room around you. “This is yours. Safe. Nourishing. You will adjust.”

You choked on disbelief.

“Why me?”

He paused.

And for the first time since he arrived, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened. His lips parted just slightly, almost pious.

“Because,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, “you glowed brightest before death.”

With that, he turned and left, the wall sealing behind him in silence.

Leaving you alone with the hum, and the terrible, hollow truth that you were the last of your kind. And you were his now.

Whatever that meant.

Whatever that would become.

::::::::::::

You don’t remember sleeping, but when your eyes open again, raw and heavy from hours of silent sobbing, the room is dimmer. The walls, once glowing faintly like a moonlit sea, have softened to a deep, low shimmer, as though mimicking the concept of nighttime.

You’re still here.

Still locked in this dreamless nightmare of seamless walls and soundless air.

Still wearing the thin, pale shift you woke up in, neither warm nor cold, but irritating in its neutrality.

Still alone.

Except… you aren’t.

You feel him before you see him. The hum of the room changes. Deepens, sharpens as though the ship itself reacts to his presence.

You sit up slowly, wiping your face, throat dry from hours of ragged breathing.

When the wall ripples open again, it’s almost gentle. Less like a command, and more like the way curtains are drawn back to allow moonlight in.

And there he stands.

Jeongguk.

Alien. Impossibly elegant.

Unfathomably tall, framed in the soft glow as though carved from the bones of dying stars.

You freeze when his eyes meet yours, not because they’re cruel. But because they are intent.

Hungry.

Unblinking.

“You are awake.”

His voice slides across your mind again, as smooth as silk and as cold as space.

You swallow tightly, sitting rigid on the edge of the bed. Your legs are weak, but you fight to keep your spine straight.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely, the word tasting hollow in your mouth. “Please just tell me what you want from me.”

He pauses.

“I have told you,” he says, moving forward, soundless as shadow. “You are mine. You will be kept. That is what I want.”

His words make your stomach twist violently. You push up from the bed, backing away until your shoulder blades press into the wall behind you.

“You can’t just— keep me!”

Your voice cracks, teetering between hysteria and disbelief.

“I’m not some… some thing you can collect!”

He stops mid step, considering.

His expression doesn’t change and yet, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny press down on you.

“Incorrect,” he says softly, as though correcting a child. “You are precious. Not a ‘thing’. Not to me.”

You open your mouth to argue, to scream, but your breath catches as something changes.

The bioluminescent lines across his body shift subtly. They pulse gently.

You don’t know why, but the sight makes your heart stutter.

Is that emotion?

Before you can question it, he raises one hand.

A low chime echoes through the room, and from the far wall, a smooth panel unfolds. It reveals a strange, device that emits fragrant steam.

Your stomach clenches painfully as your senses recognize what it is before your mind does.

Food.

Or, at least, something meant to replicate it. Soft, pale orbs float in an iridescent broth, giving off a smell not unlike fresh bread and honey.

It should be comforting.

But in this place, nothing feels comforting.

“You have not consumed nourishment in sixteen of your planet’s hours,” Jeongguk says calmly, gesturing toward the offering.

“Your body weakens. This is inefficient.”

You hesitate, eyeing the bowl warily.

“I’m not hungry,” you lie.

His head tilts, faintly reptilian in the gesture, and for the first time, a flicker of something sharper edges into his tone.

“You will eat.”

The words are not barked.

Not threatening.

But absolute.

You stare back at him, shaking slightly.

And when you make no move to comply, he steps forward and takes the bowl himself, walking closer until he is far too near. He crouches, folding gracefully in front of you like a predator settling in for the kill.

But instead of violence, he offers you the bowl directly.

Holding it out, waiting patiently.

“Eat,” he murmurs.

His eyes glow faintly as they fix on your face.

“For me.”

Your lips part helplessly. Something in the way he says it. Quiet, almost intimately, sends your skin crawling and burning at once.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

And yet…

Your body obeys. Your fingers tremble as you accept the bowl, lifting one of the pale orbs to your lips.

It tastes… nothing like food.

But it dissolves softly on your tongue, leaving behind warmth that creeps slowly down your throat.

Not unpleasant, not pleasurable. Just… filling.

Sustaining.

You eat in silence, aware of his unwavering gaze as you do. When the bowl empties, he takes it back carefully, setting it aside.

“Better,” he says quietly.

You can’t meet his eyes.

The tears come again without permission, sliding hot and heavy down your face. You curl in on yourself, trying to muffle the broken sounds that escape your throat.

And then… a touch.

Featherlight at first, fingers ghosting against your temple, sliding into your hair.

You tense, but he does not press.

“You fear me.” His words are not questioning. “Good. It is natural. You are fragile.”

Your breath hitches painfully.

His hand slips lower, knuckles grazing your cheek with maddening delicacy.

“But fear will fade,” he continues softly. “In time, you will see. I am not cruel. I am constant. You will not be harmed. You will be… cherished.”

You turn your head away sharply and his fingers slip free, but you feel the weight of his focus intensify.

“You misunderstand your position,” he murmurs. “Earth is gone. You are alone in a universe that has no place for you. No one will come for you. No one can.”

You clench your fists tightly in your lap, the truth cutting deeper than his touch ever could.

“Why me?” you ask, voice breaking. “Why not let me die with the rest?”

He leans in slightly, his presence invading your every sense.

“Because when others knelt and wept… you raged,” he whispers. “You burned. You clung to life with ferocity. That is rare.”

His eyes soften, if such a thing is possible for something so alien.

“I collect what should not exist.” A faint smile, too serene, too knowing. “You are an anomaly. You are mine.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip, forcing back another sob.

“This isn’t cherishing,” you whisper bitterly.

“This is prison.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he rises slowly, towering over you once more. His hands fold neatly behind his back. The perfect image of composed, regal authority.

“No,” he agrees softly. “This is preservation.”

He steps back toward the door, but his voice reaches you again as it ripples open to accept him.

“Rest. I will return when you are calmer.”

A pause.

“And eventually… you will thank me.”

Then he is gone.

And you’re eft in the silence once more—but not alone.

Not really.

Because his scent still lingers. His voice still hums faintly in your mind. And worse, you realize part of you is already listening for his return.

::::::::::::

You don’t see him again for three cycles. You don’t know how you know this. There’s no sun here, no night and day, no ticking clock on sterile walls—but your body remembers.

It remembers the ache of hunger.

The slow unraveling of sanity when left in isolation. The bone deep dread that blooms in the absence of any other voice but your own.

For seventy two hours, maybe more, maybe less, you are alone.

The ship hums softly at all hours, the walls glowing faintly like a slumbering beast. Your room, if you can even call it that, remains locked.

No doors.

No windows.

Just blank, seamless walls and a bed that conforms to your every restless shift.

Food appears twice, delivered silently through a hidden panel in the wall, but you ignore it. You sit curled on the bed, stomach clenching painfully, but you refuse to give in.

Not again, not after last time.

He’d fed you like a child.

Watched you with something sickly tender in his eyes while you cried and ate and fell apart in front of him.

No.

You will not make this easy for him. Your anger is all you have left. The only shield between you and the quiet, desperate terror that creeps in when you allow yourself to feel anything else.

So you don’t eat.

You don’t sleep.

You don’t talk to the empty room, no matter how loud the silence becomes.

You wait.

Because you know he’ll come back, of course he will.

Men like him, things like him, always come back.

And when he does, you are ready.

—

He appears on the fourth cycle.

Not like before, there’s no grand entrance. No rippling doors or ominous hums.

You wake to find him already there, standing at the foot of the bed like a phantom who has always belonged in your nightmares. He watches you in silence, arms folded behind his back, eyes glowing softly in the low light.

You glare at him, lips cracked from dehydration.

He says nothing.

“Fuck you.”

Your voice scrapes like gravel against your raw throat, but it feels good to say.

Good to bite, even if your teeth barely graze.

His head tilts slightly, that same alien gesture that makes your stomach turn.

“You are weakening,” he observes softly, almost clinically. “Your refusal to consume nourishment endangers your cellular structure. This is illogical.”

You laugh, sharp and brittle.

“Good. Let me die, then.”

For the first time, his expression shifts, not dramatically, but his brows knit slightly, his mouth drawing in the faintest sliver.

He doesn’t like that.

“Negative,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I will not allow termination.”

You push yourself up on shaking arms, baring your teeth in something that feels more animal than human.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t keep me like this. Feeding me, locking me in this—this cage! I’ll starve before I let you win.”

His eyes narrow faintly, glowing brighter. “You misunderstand,” he murmurs, his voice lowering dangerously.

“This is not a contest,” he moves closer, slow, deliberate steps that make your pulse spike and your limbs tremble. “This is inevitability.”

You scramble off the bed, stumbling backward until your spine hits the wall. His presence consumes the room, filling every atom of available space, as though the ship itself responds to his shifting mood.

He stands before you now, towering and still.

“You may resist,” he allows softly. “You may cry, scream, refuse… for a time.”

His hand rises, not threatening, but steady as his fingers gently, maddeningly, brush your jaw. The touch sends a bolt of revulsion and something more complicated spiraling through you.

“But you will acclimate.”

His voice vibrates softly in your bones, dangerous in its certainty.

You slap his hand away, the sound cracking through the air like gunfire.

For a moment, nothing happens.

He simply stares at you, the tips of his fingers still poised where they had been, motionless, as though stunned.

And then…he withdraws, silently. Without anger or words. Simply steps back, gaze unreadable, and turns for the door.

Panic flashes hot and instant through your chest. “No—” you gasp, confused by your own terror at his sudden departure.

He stops just before the wall seals behind him. For the first time, his voice emerges aloud, not through your mind, but spoken.

Low.

Flat.

Cold.

“You have chosen isolation.”

Then he’s gone, and so is everything else.

The hum of the ship fades, the lights dim to near darkness. The temperature drops, not enough to freeze, but enough to chill your skin, to make your breath puff faintly in the air.

The bed retracts into the wall.

The food panel vanishes.

You are left standing in nothing.

Cold.

Alone.

—

For hours—maybe days—you are abandoned to the hollow, oppressive silence.

Your tears dry.

Your voice fades from hoarseness to nothing. Your legs give out, and you curl on the hard floor, clutching yourself tightly as sleep eludes you in the endless dark.

You hate him.

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when the wall finally ripples open again, soft, warm light spilling through and his tall, silent figure appears in the doorway once more, you sob.

Relief.

Humiliation.

Rage.

You don’t understand which emotion is which anymore.

He crosses the threshold slowly, eyes glowing faintly in gentle shades of blue and pink. Soft, careful, like a predator soothing prey after the kill.

Without speaking, he kneels before you, gathering your shaking body into his arms. You don’t fight him this time.

You can’t.

You’re too cold.

Too broken.

His hand strokes your hair as he murmurs something low in his language, soft syllables that sound like lullabies from a galaxy you will never see.

“I will not harm you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your temple. “Do not make me hurt you through absence again; I ache.”

Your fingers clutch his robe weakly, sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but it’s empty.

Weak.

He hums softly.

“I know.”

He pulls you closer, cradling you as though you are delicate and rare, because to him, you are.

“And yet you need me.”

You can’t argue.

Not right now.

Not when his warmth is the only thing that feels real in this endless void of stars and silence.

::::::::::::

You don’t sleep, even when your body begs you to.

Sleep would mean trusting the silence, surrendering.

So you lay awake on the strange, pliant surface that the ship has provided. Not quite a bed, but softer than the floor that left your bones aching and cold during your punishment.

You are still recovering from that.

The ache of isolation.

The terror of being truly, utterly alone.

But more than that… you are recovering from the humiliation.

Because when he returned, when he found you curled and trembling, teeth chattering and face raw from tears, you clung to him.

You didn’t mean to.

Your body simply reacted, desperate and starved for anything warm and familiar.

Your fingers twisted into the dark folds of his robes, your face pressed into the cool planes of his chest, and you wept like a creature broken open.

And Jeongguk did nothing but hold you.

No words.

No threats.

No cruel satisfaction.

Just stillness.

Just presence.

His hands stroked your back, slow and repetitive, the way you imagine one might soothe a terrified animal.

His head bent low, his breath ghosting against your temple as he whispered words in a language your mind couldn’t translate, soft and melodic, making you feel drunk with the weight of them.

Even now, hours later, his scent still lingers on your skin.

Warm and metallic.

Alien and oddly sweet.

Like lightning woven into silk.

You hate that you find comfort in it now. You hate yourself more than you hate him, but the truth is suffocating in its simplicity.

You needed him.

And he knew it.

—

The door ripples again, seamlessly and without warning. You stiffen instinctively, heart leaping to your throat.

But when Jeongguk steps through, he does not bring the same oppressive energy he had before.

There is no towering, silent menace, or sharp glint of irritation or frustration in his starlit eyes.

Instead…he looks calm, serene, even.

His robes have changed. Still dark, but lighter now. Softer. He wears no armor, or sharp adornments. His hair hangs loose, gleaming faintly in the ship’s low bioluminescence.

He looks… domestic.

If such a word could ever apply to him.

The ship itself seems to respond, the walls brightening subtly, soft, ambient pulses that make the air feel warmer somehow.

More intimate.

Less clinical.

It unnerves you more than his previous coldness.

“Good,” he says quietly, his voice sliding into your consciousness with practiced ease. “You remain.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you again, relaxing minutely at the familiar cadence of his presence.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I?” you mutter bitterly.

Jeongguk tilts his head slightly, considering.

“No,” he agrees softly. “But you remained nonetheless.”

The phrasing makes something twist painfully low in your stomach. Before you can respond, he approaches, slow, careful steps as though approaching something fragile.

Which, in his eyes, you suppose you are.

He lowers himself gracefully beside you on the bed like surface, close enough that you feel the subtle hum of his energy brushing against your skin.

“I have observed,” he begins, tone thoughtful. “Prolonged isolation causes distress beyond simple physical discomfort in your species.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around your knees protectively.

“Yeah. That’s called being human.”

He hums softly, as though filing the information away like a precious resource.

“I have no desire to harm you, little star,” he murmurs, and his hand lifts, pausing in the air between you, as if seeking silent permission.

You don’t give it.

But you don’t pull away when his fingers brush lightly across your hair, tucking it back from your face.

His touch is careful.

Maddening.

“I desire only your peace.”

You choke on a bitter laugh.

“Peace? You abducted me, destroyed my planet, locked me in this ship and act like that’s kindness.”

His expression softens, strangely fond despite your venom.

“You misunderstand,” he says gently.

“I did not destroy your planet. I spared you from its fate.”

His fingers trail down, brushing against the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, and you shiver despite yourself.

“You were meant to end,” he continues softly, voice almost hypnotic. “But you burned. You raged. You survived.”

His thumb strokes softly against your lower lip, a touch so tender you forget, briefly, how much you despise him.

“You are rare,” he murmurs. “And rare things are not discarded. They are treasured.”

The words settle in your chest like poison wrapped in silk. You should recoil, should slap his hand away, curse him until your throat gives out.

But instead…you close your eyes.

Just for a moment.

Just long enough to feel the soft press of his palm against your cheek, anchoring you in this strange, terrible reality.

He takes your silence as permission.

Of course he does.

“Good,” he breathes, satisfaction humming softly in his voice. “You are learning.”

You force your eyes open, glaring weakly at him.

“Learning what?”

His lips curl faintly, not quite a smile, but something disturbingly close.

“To accept.”

You hate him.

You hate him.

But when he shifts closer, pressing his body flush to yours, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders, you don’t pull away.

You are cold.

You are tired.

You are alone.

And he is warm.

He is steady.

He is here.

You rest your head against his shoulder before you can think better of it, disgust warring with relief in your chest.

Jungkook says nothing, but the ship hums softly around you, glowing faintly in shades of rose and gold. Contentment radiating from every surface.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve curled against him until his mouth brushes the crown of your head.

“You will see soon,” he murmurs, words sinking deep into your bones. “I am not your enemy. I am your only constant.”

You fall asleep before you can argue. And for the first time since Earth fell, you sleep through the cycle without waking to scream.

::::::::::::

You wake to warmth.

Not the clinical, neutral temperature of the ship. That engineered comfort that feels more like a lack of discomfort than real heat but true warmth.

Soft.

Heavy.

Alive.

For a moment, your mind refuses to grasp why.

You are tucked beneath something impossibly smooth and weighty , fabric like liquid silk draped over your body, cocooning you in decadent softness.

And behind you, against the curve of your spine, something solid.

Firm.

Breathing.

A heartbeat thrums, steady and deep, so close it vibrates through your back and into your bones.

Not the ship.

Him.

Jeongguk.

You go rigid before you can think. Your hands clench the sheets, alien and faintly iridescent m, as you strain to control your breathing.

You are being held, no, you are being kept.

His arm is heavy across your waist, claws retracted but still unsettling, his fingers resting just beneath your ribcage with terrifying intimacy. His face is pressed lightly to the crown of your head, long hair brushing against your temple like ghost silk.

For several agonizing seconds, you debate your options.

Pull away.

Wake him.

Escape—if that’s even possible anymore.

But as your heart hammers and your stomach twists, you realize something worse.

You don’t want to move.

Because for the first time in what feels like forever, you are not cold, you are not alone, or terrified of what silence might bring.

You are simply… held.

And that, somehow, feels more dangerous than anything he’s done so far.

He stirs before you can make a decision.

The shift is subtle, the faint tightening of his grip, the softening of his breath, the way the ship’s hum lifts faintly, mirroring the change in atmosphere.

Then his voice slides into your mind, quieter than usual.

Thicker.

“You are awake.”

You flinch slightly, but he does not move away. Instead, he exhales slowly, the sound almost… content.

“You slept well,” he murmurs aloud this time, his voice low and textured, as though speaking in words costs him more effort than using your mind.

“You did not cry.”

Shame burns through you instantly. You twist beneath his arm, trying to put space between your bodies, but his hold tightens slightly.

“No,” he says softly, head dipping lower so that his breath brushes the shell of your ear. “Stay.”

Your heart races painfully.

“Why?” you whisper, hating the smallness in your voice.

His answer is simple.

“Because you do not truly wish to leave.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t say it cruelly.

He doesn’t taunt or mock.

He speaks it as though it is a fact he has long since accepted and is merely waiting for you to do the same.

Before you can respond, he shifts, drawing back just enough to allow you to turn and face him. The sight steals the words from your throat.

Up close, he is devastating.

More than alien.

More than beautiful.

His features are carved from something you do not have words for, too elegant to be called soft, too precise to be human. His silver violet eyes glow faintly in the dimness, framed by dark lashes that cast delicate shadows across high cheekbones.

But it is the way he looks at you that truly leaves you breathless.

Not with desire.

Not with hunger.

With… possession. As though you are the first and only star in his universe.

You turn your face away, pulse hammering.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He does not obey.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m—”

You falter, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“Yours,” you finish bitterly.

His hand moves, fingers brushing your jaw, guiding you gently to meet his gaze again.

“You are mine,” he murmurs softly, as though stating something as mundane as the time of day. “You remain only because I desire it. You live because I allow it. You breathe because I have given you this sanctuary.”

The words are cruel in logic, yet his voice is gentle.

You tremble beneath the weight of them, but he only continues, thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone.

“But you do not need to fear that.” He leans closer, voice dropping lower, coaxing you like one would soothe a frightened animal.

“You do not need to fight so hard. You are cared for. Sheltered. Treasured.”

You want to scream. Want to tell him how wrong he is, how suffocating this is.

But your body remembers the days alone in the dark.

The cold.

The ache.

The crushing silence that left you frantic and desperate for any presence at all. And your body, traitorous and desperate, does not want to return to that.

So instead, you say nothing.

You simply let him hold you.

Let his touch stroke soothing patterns against your spine.

Let your eyes slip closed, not because you want him, but because for now… he feels safe.

—

The days that follow blur together.

Jeongguk becomes a near constant presence, no longer leaving for long stretches. He is always near. Quietly watching, quietly touching, quietly existing in every corner of your small world.

Meals are no longer delivered in silence.

Now, he brings them himself, sitting beside you as you eat, observing your reactions with soft fascination, as though memorizing every flicker of expression.

He asks questions, though never demands answers.

“Why do you frown when eating this?”

“Does this flavor please you more?”

“Do you enjoy these colors?”

It’s strange. Stranger still when you find yourself answering.

Not out of obligation or out of fear. But because the emptiness left by silence is worse.

You talk quietly, giving short answers at first, but over time, they grow longer. You explain foods you miss. You describe music, books, seasons. You speak of snow and rain and laughter, and though he listens with alien detachment, he seems oddly enchanted by your words.

“You will show me,” he says one cycle, after you describe autumn leaves falling in lazy spirals.

You blink at him in confusion.

“Earth is gone.”

His head tilts.

“Virexum can make what you desire.”

You do not know whether to be horrified or grateful. But when the next cycle arrives, your room transforms.The walls ripple and shift until soft amber light filters through projected trees.

Illusions of wind rustle leaves that glow faintly gold and crimson.

You laugh, startled and disbelieving.

And Jeongguk…

He smiles.

Not wide.

Not human.

But soft, and faintly victorious.

As though every small inch you offer him, every smile, every word, every sigh, is another chain wound tightly around your wrists.

—

It happens one night as you sit side by side on the bed, eating quietly. Your hands brush when reaching for the same dish and you both freeze.

The contact is brief.

Innocent.

But it lingers. His fingers slide softly over yours, slow and intentional as though mapping the shape of them.

You don’t pull away, pulse racing, your cheeks flush, but still, you let it happen.

Something shifts in his gaze.

It’s not hunger, not cruelty…longing.

The moment stretches and the ship grows impossibly quiet, as though the walls themselves are holding their breath. You’re the one who breaks it, pulling your hand away with a nervous laugh that sounds too loud in the stillness.

Jeongguk says nothing.

But his eyes follow you all the same, glowing softly in the dim amber light.

Watching.

Always watching.

—

That night, as you lay down and let him pull you close, his arms wrapping securely around your body as though sealing you in, you don’t resist.

You let him tuck your head beneath his chin, your hands curl lightly against his chest.

And when he whispers against your hair, voice low and factual, “you are becoming mine.”

You don’t argue.

Because deep down, beneath the remnants of your rage and sorrow, beneath the tangled mess of shame and longing—

You know he is right.

two | masterlist

Deluge. Yan Scaramouche x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, pregnancy mentions and not SFW themes. Word count: 3.5k.

The strum of a koto beneath your fingertips fills the atmosphere with a serene serenade.

Each deliberate pluck and twang resonates throughout the lonely courtyard as if it were a theatre with you upon the stage, performing to an absent audience. The ballad you lace together blends into the billowing breeze. Over the looming eaves, through the barren tree branches, and into clouds weighed down by future precipitation.

You’d like to think your playing will become one with the atmosphere, traveling further than you ever could. That with each raindrop, if one were to listen close enough, they’d hear the string’s gentle vibrato and be compelled to search for you. All you’d need to do is wait patiently and continue strumming your koto, guiding them to you with various melodies. They’d be strong, noble of heart, and selfless in their endeavors to free you from your picturesque prison. What a perfect, idyllic ending that’d make — just like the fairytales you read growing up where the princess is rescued by her prince.

Keep reading

Title: Protectorate.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Death/Violence, Blood, Controlling Behavior.

The first time you met Kunikuzushi, there was an arrow embedded in his left shoulder, and he was covered in his own blood.

It took you most of the day to carry him home, his small form draped across your back, his eyes open, but glazed over, too unfocused to be any sign of meaningful consciousness. The sun had set, by the time you reached your little farmhouse, and you deposited him in the decrypt barn before approaching the door. You didn’t reach for the knob, or knock, just pressing your ear to the wood, holding your breath as you listened. You head footsteps, the muffled sound of someone idly strumming a shamisen, and you sighed, giving yourself another moment of quiet reprieve before slipping inside, grabbing the cloth sack you kept in your bedroom and making your escape.

You’d rather spend the night listening to your father’s music, or sitting in front of the hearth as your brother read out the ancient legends and poems he’d always been so sickeningly fond of, but that was for another time. You had to be thankful that no one would bother you, tonight.

By the time you returned to the barn, Kunikuzushi was wake, sitting up and struggling with the shaft of the arrow. Without thinking, you rushed to his side, prying his hands away from the weapon and forcing them against the sheet he was lying on. “Please,” You started, before he could think to struggle against you. “If the head breaks off, I might not be able to get it out. I won’t be able to help you.”

You expected him to argue, to glare, but he only stared up at you, his dark eyes still wide, still bleary. Like a child, being scolded for the first time. “I don’t…” His voice was shaking, unsteady. He probably needed water, and a decent meal. You couldn't be sure how long it'd been since he last had something to drink. “It hurts. I want to get it out.”

“I can help with that.” He was bleeding, again, but you tried not to show your concern, smiling and squeezing his hands. “If you’re willing to let me.”

It took a few seconds, a few nervous glances towards his tattered robes, but eventually, he nodded, just starting to relax. You let go of him, hesitantly, and started to work.

“Do you know who did this to you?” You asked, tearing away the fabric that surrounded the injury. The arrowhead was completely embedded, more so than any self-inflicted wound or stray shot could’ve been, and his breath hitched as you took the arrow by the shaft, breaking it into two pieces as carefully as you could and discarding the second half. You felt him shift, trying to see what you were doing, but you caught his chin before he could, forcing him to stare straight ahead. You should’ve done this earlier, in the woods, while he was still unconscious. “I’ve treated a few hunters, but I’ve never seen anything this… thorough. Go and get yourself into trouble with the wrong people, stranger?”

You fished your scalpel out of your bag, wrapped in its own piece of burlap. He must’ve tried to remove it before you found him, judging by the amount of torn skin around the injury, how difficult it was to decipher where the arrow had first made contact. You tried to be precise, to only cut away what you were sure you had to cut away, but your incision could only be so small, so shallow, and Kunikuzushi still winced, dropping his gaze to his lap, hesitating before he answered. “I think it was one of my friends.”

You paused. “Your friends?”

“I mean, they weren’t trying to hurt me.” At least he was distracted, too preoccupied with himself and what he was saying to notice you putting down your scalpel. The pliers were next, crude but accurate, just barely small enough to latch onto the base of the arrowhead, where iron met the wood. “They were trying to help me. They said it would make me stronger, and if I’m stronger I can—”

You pulled, and Kunikuzushi’s words died into a low, terrible groan. You fished out your bandages, taking up what you could and pressing against his injury to stop the now-steady bleeding. You should’ve left to fetch fresh water, at that point, or gotten something to clean him up with, but his hand clasped over yours, keeping you in place with a grip stronger than you’d expected it to be. “They were trying to make me stronger. They said this would make me stronger.”

You brought your free hand to his other shoulder, rubbing gently. “I believe you,” You said, slowly, trying not to startle him. “I’m just trying to make sure they don’t kill you, in the process.”

He hadn’t been smiling, but his frown deepened. His grip loosened, though, his hand eventually sliding under yours, taking the clump of bandage, and you were allowed to stand up. You moved to brush yourself off, but thought better of it, curling your fingers into your palms as you turned away from him, starting towards the barn’s entrance. “I’ll get you some water, and something to eat. We don’t have much, but it’ll fill your stomach. My brother should have something you can wear, too.” You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he settled into place, pulling his knees into his chest and attempting to lift his left arm, only to drop it back to his side almost immediately. “You’re going to have to rest for a few days. It’s not a shallow wound, and it looks like you lost a lot of blood. It’s going to take some time before you’re able to use that arm, again.”

“I heal quickly,” He said, quickly, but he sounded unsure. “I don’t need anything, either. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Let me be selfish, then. I brought you here, so you’re my responsibility, which means taking care of you is also my responsibility.” You’d never closed the heavy, sliding door, but you lingered in the doorway, giving him time to relax. Giving him time to start to trust that you were coming back. “And that means I have to see it through, right?”

He didn’t answer, not immediately, not until the tension in his shoulders began to fade, a fraction of his rigidity breaking into something else, something softer.

His response came a second later, breathy and mumbled, but no less gratifying for its delay.

“Right.”

~

The tenth time Kunikuzushi visited, he brought a man you didn’t know and tea imported from Liyue. He let himself into your farmhouse, and his friend waited outside.

His robes, thin and formless and dully colored, were gone, by now, replaced with rich silks, golden ornaments, veils made with such a fine material, you were forced to occasionally wonder how much you would be able to get for a length of it at the marketplace. He held himself differently, with more confidence than you’d ever thought him capable of, and while you wanted to be happy for him, you couldn’t help but miss the Kunikuzushi who used to follow after you for hours on end, staring up at you with those big, dark eyes and offering to lend you another pair of hands despite the fact that you both knew he had no talent for housekeeping. Despite the fact that you would've been just as happy with his company as you were with his help.

He didn’t follow you, anymore, and his pride was no longer such a small thing as to accommodate household chores. He watched you from your small table, instead, as you boiled water and brewed his newest gift, placing a clay mug in front of him when you were done. You held your own as you sat down, eager to keep your hands on its warm surface. The days were growing cold, and there was only so much wood you could justify wasting on yourself. You’d have to wait until the rest of your family returned before you could light the hearth.

Kunikuzushi waited for you to start. His pride was no small thing, and his patience had grown to adjust to it. “You cut your hair.”

“It was the only practical decision.” As eager to talk as ever, despite his hesitation. “Electo if volatile. If there’s anything flammable nearby, it’s bound to—”

“No, I mean you cut your hair. Without a mirror, from what I can see.” You bent over the tabletop, idly toying with a portion of his fringe, nearly an inch shorter than its twin on the opposite side. “What happened? It looks like someone took a pair of shears to your head, and you let them.”

He batted your hand away, but it was a half-hearted dismissal. He was smiling, and he made no attempt to hide it. “I’m leaving for Snezhnaya, soon. By the time I visit again, it should be long enough for you to cut yourself, to your satisfaction.”

You tried to smile back, but it faltered quickly, and you but your mug to your lips, instead. “You might have to come and find me on the mainland, by then.”

His expression dropped. “What do you mean?”

“It’s really nothing,” You assured, forcing yourself to let out an airy laugh before you went on. “He’s a merchant, and he just starting doing business on our island, and he’s… You have to understand, Kuni’, he’s so wealthy, and when he offered to marry me, I couldn't—”

“You’re betrothed.”

You pushed your shoulders forward, shrinking into yourself. “I am.”

“Why?” He slammed his palms against the table, rattling the mugs. You managed to steady your own, but his toppled over, spilling tea over the wood and onto the floor. He didn’t seem to notice, but you cringed, knowing you’d have to clean it up later on. “I can give you mora, gold, whatever you need. You don’t have to run off with some bastard behind my back and—”

“I need more than mora. There are healers on the mainland, real healers. People who can do more than gather herbs and… I don’t know, carve out arrowheads.” Another laugh, this one sardonic, exhausted. “You know my father needs care. His sight is getting worse, and his health is failing, but he keeps taking work, and neither I nor my brother can convince him to stop. He needs more care than I can give him. My brother will finally be able to attend an actual academy, too. This isn’t something I can walk away from.”

He was standing, now, lording over you. “And that’s worth whoring yourself out to a man you don’t even know?”

“I do know him. He introduced himself while he was on our island, and we’ve been exchanging letters.” Anxiously, you began to play with the hem of your sleeve, but stopped yourself quickly, pulling your hands into your lap, instead. “He’s a kind man. I don’t love him, but he’s prepared to take my family in, and—”

“Damn your family, this isn’t about them. I want to know why you think you can just leave me—”

“Get out.”

Kunikuzushi blinked. “What makes you think—”

“I’m getting married, Kuni, by my own volition. I have no interest in listening to you question my choices or insult my family. We don't have enough food. We don't have enough wood. If I turn down this offer, I'll be responsible when my family finally freezes to—” You looked away. “Just get out. I don't want to have to ask you again.”

He looked like he was going to say something, for a second.

Then, he turned on his heel, and left your farmhouse entirely. You could hear him say something to his friend, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t really try to.

You allowed yourself one deep, long breath, forced yourself to stand, and went back to your chores, praying your wedding day would come soon.

~

On his next and final visit, Kunikuzushi arrived while you were at the marketplace, while your father was at home and your brother was tending to him. By the time you returned, smoke was heavy in the air, and there was no sound save for the crackle of the fire and the idle chatter of the friends he’d brought to light it.

The farmhouse was already engulfed, by the time you reached the clearing, smoke already billowing from the windows, the ramshackle roof already burnt-through and buckled in. You should’ve hidden, or ran, or done anything but drop your belongings at the edge of the forest and make a desperate sprint for the charred door, but you couldn’t think, and you couldn’t stop trying, even after he caught you, even after your frantic struggling drew the attention of his guards, his soldiers, soon leaving their makeshift posts to gather around Kunikuzushi, to watch as you clawed at the arms around your waist and shoved at his chest and screamed, cursing his name and calling out for your brother and sobbing until your voice grew too hoarse to do even that.

After your sobs had died down into pathetic cries and your cries had faded into whimpers – only then did one of his soldiers speak, the words stifled by their silver mask. “Is this the commoner, Lord Scaramouche? Should we get the restraints?”

“No. In fact, you and the others can return to the estate. Your help is no longer needed.” He paused, and you felt his hold on you tighten, his lips brush against your shin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “This is my errand. It’s my responsibility.”

You felt his smile, wider than you could ever remember it being, before.

“And that means I have to see it through, right?”

Orders

Horrortober Day 30: Blackmail “Why are you doing this to me?”

First time writing for Scara, aaaaaah! It was kind of hard but also satisfying? He has this two-faced personality and I think that’s just so neat for the yandere trope! Still, go easy on me for writing for him for the first time, thanks >-<

Warnings: Yandere, Blackmailing, Implied Violence, Pulling the reader by the hair, Intimidation Characters: Scaramouche/ Kunikuzushi / Balladeer x Reader

On your desk were the proofs and receipts of your failure.

Before you, the mocking grin of a wretched soul.

You stood over your desk, leaning down at it tensely, your hands curled into fists. If not for the fact that you did not want to give the Fatui the satisfaction of having anything on you, you would have liked to sit back and despair for a while. It was but a stupid joke that Scaramouche wanted to pull on you, but unfortunately, this joke would ruin you if you weren’t careful.

With the Tenryou Commission already having made dodgy dealings with the Fatui, maybe it shouldn’t have surprised you that the same mistakes were made in your own ranks. Perhaps you had been too proud to see them happening, but with everything that was collected before you, it would be your head on the line. For as long as you could think, you had worked diligently and in the best interest of your orders. Much better than what you could say about your underlings who seemed to have striven for greatness in a very different way than you.

What was so wrong about being honorable? You wondered about it as you pushed through the documents and letters scattered on the table. Why was it so hard not to give in to the temptation of power through crooked means? All you wanted now was to be frustrated and angry. To bring these miserable blokes to justice who risked not only their fates but yours as well. You’ve put so much into your unit’s training, trying to teach them values and treated them with the deserved respect. Yet, they walked all over you in the end.

“What do you want?” you grumbled, gnawing on your lip. Putting all the evidence of misconduct into a neat pile, you wanted to raise them in the air and throw them at the Balladeer’s smug face. How dare he even showed himself in front of you again. You sent him to the moon once, and nothing had changed about your opinion of him since then. Yet, he came back as if he was a welcome guest to your office, a grin on his face as if he knew more than you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he scoffed, jokingly rolling his eyes before grinning again. “I need you to come with me. You are needed somewhere far away from here.”

“I don’t do business with your stinking organization,” you retorted, hissing the words in the hope he’d finally get the message. Scaramouche had been bugging you with this before, asking you to leave with him in case things go and don’t go the way he was planning. Crazy, considering you didn’t know him at all.

“So, you’re going to stay and see how your unit, your lifelong work, all just goes down the gutter? I can respect your worth ethic, but don’t you think you’re a little cruel to yourself?”

Getting up from his chair, Scaramouche let out a long sigh before he leaned over the desk, bringing his face too close for comfort. But you’d not back away. You had been fighting scarier opponents than the ones that looked like they were merely ten years old, yet talked like they ruled over the land you were standing on.

“You know nothing about us! Maybe if you dirty Fatui didn’t spread rumors and your disgusting Delusions, no one would have considered being led on by you!”

Even though you spat the words into his face, Scaramouche wasn’t backing away from you either. It was grossly obvious he enjoyed the challenge you were giving him, and you wondered if his life was so dull that bothering you was his only joy. “Maybe,” he chuckled.

The sudden feeling of a strange touch enveloped your fists which helped you lean on the table. A glance down, and you saw two hands caressing your skin curiously, Scaramouche only leaning closer in the moment you were distracted. “You will never know about what could have been. There is only the future we can change.”

Ripping your hands away from him, you finally recoiled. Even though you wanted to be strong and steady, not at the cost of having to be touched by someone who disgusted you so much. There were no words to describe the feeling of hatred you had for this man, who seemed to have singled you out. You barely believed your eyes when you saw him standing in your doorway, your last information having been that he left with the Fatui after their plot was uncovered.

Though you were wringing your hands to get the feeling of his fingertips off of you, it was no use. His touch was sticking to you like tree sap, repulsive, but the feeling always remained. “There is no ‘we’ in this. My future, my decisions.”

Before he could say anything more, you grabbed the papers, carrying them to the fireplace and feeding the hungry flames that awaited them. You’d have to deal with these problems, but not with the seemingly fake pieces of evidence and documents. One soldier at a time would get their deserved punishment, but you didn’t need the help of a Fatui Harbinger to do that. Clapping your hands and turning back to him, you sneered at Scaramouche from above, asking, “Anything else?”

He only continued to smile calmly, pulling another paper from his pocket and another. “How many copies do you think I have? Did you really think I’d give you the original documents? For how stupid do you take me?”

Your face dropped as you watched him produce copies left and right, almost enough to send them to every important person in Inazuma. “It’s not worth staying here, right? If anyone finds these, they will think you couldn’t stand the guilt anymore and abandoned your post. Don’t worry, we’ll be long gone by then,” he taunted you, and you tried to hide your discomposure behind anger.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” you yelled at him, losing it as he wouldn’t stop his mockery. But Scaramouche’s grin only widened in joy as he saw you lose all your cool, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to see this suffering side of you, the desperation and anger. It must have been all that’s on his mind since he came well-prepared to this meeting, one that would - if it came out you were meeting with a Fatui - already get you fired from this position you worked so hard for and had been so proud of for many years.

Finally, he stopped producing papers. No more evidence were left in his little scheme to get what he wanted, but it was enough to get you all executed. His focus was back at you wholly as he approached. Hands outstretched, he searched for yours that you folded in towards your chest, unwilling to hand them over. But you didn’t have to. Scaramouche took what he wanted regardless of how you felt about it.

“I’ve been doing all this for you, don’t you understand it? Now you’re free, and we can start over! So come with me, stop pretending it’s not what you want!”

Unable to understand what he meant, you shook your head in confusion, but Scaramouche’s grip only tightened, squeezing your hands so hard they began pumping blood through them. Free? Free of what? And what were you pretending in his opinion? The enthusiasm he had previously displayed as he threw those fake truths at you disappeared as you remained unwilling to join his joy. His expression turned into a dreadful scowl, and he gave your hands a firm tug, making you almost lose your balance as you didn’t expect it.

“Why do you keep pretending you don’t want to be with me? Are you sick? Broken? Do you need fixing? Why would you keep trying to stay here when you can be with me? You’re so annoying! Make up your mind!”

A tirade of words was screamed at your face as you desperately tried to keep up. Scaramouche was pulling you forward towards the door, more and more against your will, all while you didn’t know what any of his actions meant. You were lost, but you couldn’t help thinking that he seemed to be as well. “Stop it!” you barked back at him loudly, and only for a moment you managed to catch him off-guard, his expression showing the surprise about the loud order you made.

And suddenly, everything seemed to get worse.

“Stop?” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “I haven’t even started yet, you unthankful pest.”

You were thrown to the floor with unknown strength, though you quickly regained your clear thinking after the initial shock. Looking up at him, for the first time he seemed tall and scary to you as if he was going to stomp you into the ground any second now. “All I’ve been doing was for you to love me,” he revealed, and you grew more restless by the second. Who was he? You two never interacted more than once before this. Why did he think it was okay to treat you this way?

“So now, you have to love me, no matter what. You’ll come with me, even if it’s the last thing you do.”

Reaching for you, you hid your face as his hands closed in, fingers curling into your hair instead. Screams of pain erupted from your throat he pulled you after him with ease. There was no one around who could have saved you, you realized as you opened your eyes mid-scream, seeing all the bodies of your unit slumped against the walls and floor of your office building.

“See what I did for you? I prepared all these presents, you ungrateful wretch! Just for you! Be thankful and love me!”

“Stop it!” you bellowed at the top of your lunges, trying to claw at his hand buried in your hair, wanting him to let go. You had to do something! Those were still your soldiers! They relied on your help! No matter what they did wrong, they didn’t deserve to be treated this way, disrespectfully and horrifying!

“You’ll learn it soon enough,” Scaramouche laughed, though his voice carried bitterness in it now.

“I give the orders here.”

Woo-jin or Gyeong-su bf headcannons from all of us are dead , pls & thank you :)

Bf headcanons

a/n- tysm for requesting this! I made it super fluffy and cute (and I did both characters! :)), so hope you enjoy! Also, I kinda rambled on with both hcs and got off track sometimes, but I think you get my point tho and I think they're cute :D ALSO, I barely edited this, like at all, so if there are mistakes or something was worded weird or sounds weird pls let me know❗

premise- bf headcanons about Gyeong-su and Wu-jin

rating- PG-13 (kissing??)

warnings- fluff, talks about kisses, and I dont think there are any?

Gyeong-su

-he acts all dorky ("class clown" energy), which he totally is, but he'd show you a side of him that no one else gets to see

-like as soon as it's you two alone, he'll start acting like the gentlest gentleman ever (with some jokes thrown in there ofc!)

-he'd always be super sweet and flirty

-but, especially before you two had started going out. he'd always have the pick-up lines and cheesy sayings ready before he saw you, ready to try to make you like him, which you already did ofc

-after you finally said yes to his flirtations and pick-up lines, he'd feel like he just won at life, like he accomplished getting the only thing he'd ever wanted: you

-the first few weeks of dating would include so much teasing, blushing, soft pecks, and soft cuddles

-after you got out of the "honeymoon" phase, he'd still be super flirty and dorky, obviously, but he'd start being less shy and nervous and being more vulnerable and intimate with you

-remember when I said that he'd be super gentlemanly as soon as you two were alone? What this means is him not wanting to show too many of his emotions to anyone but you (such as how much he likes you or wants to kiss you)

-did I mention that he'd be super teasing? Yes, yes I did, and I'm going to again, because you know how flirty this man would be, no matter what stage in the relationship

-he'd just randomly come up to you when no one was around and kiss you out of nowhere, making you super flustered, which makes him smirk: "what?" like you know what you just did, sir 💀

-obviously we know he'd be super sweet like 24/7, more funny when everyone else was around, but still a sweetheart, nevertheless!

-he'd give the softest cuddles in the world when you're feeling down (or if you're fine, like he'd totally just want to cuddle you all the time-)

-and you and this man would roast eachother, yes you're dating, yes you like eachother, yes you're super sweet to eachother, but you would totally just start joking around and roasting eachother out of nowhere

-like if you're tall and he couldn't reach something and you saw him struggling, you'd grab it for him and sweetly give it to him and then you'd walk away but not before muttering something like "short ass", and if you're short, then vice-versa.

-oh, and the first time he says the magic three words, he'd be super, super nervous. He definitely prepared a whole ass speech or a special dinner or just something for the occasion.

-and all his nerves would go away when you finally said it back :)

-anyway, your relationship would be filled with the sweetest laughter and the sweetest kisses :D

Wu-jin

(Sadly, I could not find a gif for him!^ :()

-yo, this man right here^ yes him, I love him

-i feel like he'd be the first to contract feelings, like, all of the sudden, he'd start being super giggly and shy around you

-and him always being super sweet and nice, like he always is, but this time more, what's the word? flirty?, would make you super flustered and try to figure out if you had a crush on him

-"hey, y/n!" he would say from the doorway of the classroom before walking over to your desk with a smile. You'd turn away from your friend to speak with him. "Yes?" you'd ask him when he didn't say anything. Suddenly a pink tint was seen on his cheeks before he just suddenly blurts out "You look really cute today." This would make you extremely flustered and honestly you would not know how to respond, like he just said that out of nowhere. After seeing your reaction and how speechless you were, he'd become less shy and walk away with a tiny smile, satisfied

-after all of these tiny compliments, quiet jokes no one else could hear, and those sweet smiles saved just for you, you finally came to terms that you had a huge crush on him, I mean who doesn't

-you had been building up the courage for awhile and decided you were going to give him your name tag. You wiped the sweat off of your palms and triple checked that your name tag was still in your pocket

-when you gave it to him, he'd be super shocked. Which led you to believe that he didn't like you back, so you'd try to reach for the name tag out of his hand and you'd start muttering a sorry, trying not to cry. But, then his hand would stop you and he'd be like "Nuh-uh, you already gave this to me, its mine now!"

-he'd finally tell you how he feels and ask you out, which would in turn make you super giggly and happy

-the first few days before your first date were awkward, just seeing eachother at school and not knowing how to really approach eachother

-the first date was awkward, but cute, very cute

-after a few months of being in a relationship, people had started to notice you two hanging around eachother and were kinda confused, when had you two become friends?

-you hadn't planned to keep it a secret, you just didn't see a reason to announce it to the world

-Dae-su finally decided to approach you both and ask if you two were dating, obviously he's curious, but it's also his future brother-in-law we're talking about, so ya know he was extra curious, would you be his future sister-in-law???

-"So, y/n, you like my brother-in-law? I never thought I'd have a sister, too!" he would randomly say to you and Wu-jin while walking home after school one day. Wu-jin would just be done at this point. "Dae-su!" he'd exclaim with red-tinted ears before shooing him away.

-the whole school soon knew after that, because, hey, its Dae-su

-his sister would congratulate him, and then ask to meet you to make sure "you're good enough for him"

-your friends and his friends would be super surprised, but excited

-anyway, feel like I got carried away here, but your relationship would be super, super cute (all of your friend group would be jealous) and he'd be super protective of you cuz he loves you so much :(

my beautiful taglist 😘- @sweetrainwrites (rain <3), @freckledwinterfalls (xie <3), @azure-arcanum (teah <3), and @thesunshineshop (network <3) tell me if ya wanna be tagged!

a/n- I've never written a headcanon before, so this is really messy and kinda all over the place, but I think it's cute, and I hope everybody enjoys this! Anywayy, I will be getting through my aouad requests, so expect more of this soon!

happy 10th anniversary, 방탄소년단 ♡

let's meet in 2025! (cr. namuspromised, 0613data)

YA'ABURNEE MASTERPOST - HYBRID! BTS X HUMAN DETECTIVE F! READER

click if you would like to read the wattpad version.

back to masterlist

summary: after being inadvertently recruited as a former ex-criminal by your home's Oahu special task force three years ago, a particular case that sets your blood boiling causes you and your team to devise an infiltration plan that sends you all across the globe to south korea. however, halfway through your mission, you were injured and separated from your team, leaving you in a dense forest with unforeseen company.

genre: hybrid | angst | fluff | romance | action | crime

pairing: hybrid bts ot7 × human officer reader (mackenzie valley wolf! namjoon, giant cheetah! jin, snow leopard! yoongi, wolverine! hoseok, kodiak bear! taehyung, maned wolf! jimin, golden jackal! jungkook)

character boards

sneak peek (3K+)

summary: the boys are patiently yet eagerly waiting for you at home, knowing you had another action-packed day, and can't wait to smother you and make sure you safely return home. but come to find out that you are injured at the front door in the arms of your older colleague, and to make matters worse, how and why you were injured. (Y/N *reader* is a bit stubborn here lol)

pt. 1 [ number of parts tbd ]