Yandere Platonic - Blog Posts

"The moon"

ok ya'll! I know I said I'm doing another chapter of this is me trying (and I am) buttttt I read @i-cant-sing's time traveler AU and I could not stop thinking about it. I'm muslim and it's Ramadan and I realized I have free will to write whatever I want, SO i present to you a platonic yandere story set in the Ottoman Empire. kinda based on real people and events, but a lot of things are just my imagination! I am NOT a history buff, I just enjoy historical things, if something is wrong, feel free to politely correct me. The main character is a female and does have a name (Esmira) and face type BUT i try not to go into her too much so you can imagine what you like. Credits to @i-cant-sing, it was their writing that inspired me! check out their works, they're really talented! I DO NOT SPEAK TURKISH, ALL MY KNOWLEDGE IS GOOGLED AND SURFACE LEVEL.

Ottoman Empire, Istanbul

Year 1524

I was my father’s moon.

"Benim ayım."

He called me that when I nestled against his side, his arms encircling me as he listened to my childish recitation of the Qur’an, my voice small yet steady. “My little moon,” he would murmur, pressing a kiss to my forehead when I finished. “No one recites as beautifully as my Esmira.”

To me, he was not Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. The Lawgiver, the formidable warlord. To me, he was my beloved Baba.

I would giggle, curling my fingers into the folds of his kaftan. I never sat apart from him, never kept a polite distance. When we dined, I ate off his plate, tearing bread from his own hands, dipping it into his soup the way I had since I was old enough to chew.

"You will spoil her, Hünkârım," my mother, Medriveh, would say from across the room, watching as my father lifted me onto his lap, letting me pick the ripest dates from his tray.

"She is already spoiled," he would reply, laughter deep in his chest. And he would not send me away. He never sent me away.

I prayed with him, every dawn and every dusk, my small voice whispering after his as we kneeled on the prayer rugs. When my hands trembled in the cold, he would clasp them in his own, warming them against his palms.

"When you are older, you will have a place beside me," he had told me once, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. "Even when I go to war, my moon will stay in my sky."

I believed him.

When he rode through the palace gates on his great black stallion, I was the only one out of my siblings- Mustafa, Selmin, Mehmed, and Layla- he lifted onto the saddle before him. I would press my cheek to his chest, feeling his laughter rumble beneath my ear as he held the reins in one hand, keeping me close with the other.

I thought it would always be like that. I thought nothing could take me from him.

I was wrong.

My mother never hit me.

She did not need to.

Her weapons were sharper than any blade, her words precise and cruel, cutting deep where no one could see.

"You embarrass me, Esmira," she would sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose whenever I stumbled in my lessons or tripped over my skirts. "Must you always follow your brothers like a stray dog? They have no use for you."

"I just want to be with them."

"They do not want to be with you."

Her disappointment weighed heavier than any slap.

I had always adored Mustafa, Selmin, and Mehmed. I ran after them in the gardens, trailed them through the halls, sat at their feet as they practiced swordplay.

I wanted to be part of their world, to belong with them as I had once belonged with my father.

But they were always too fast, too sharp, too indifferent.

"Go away, Esmira." Selmin’s voice was rough, barely sparing me a glance as he wiped sweat from his brow, his sword resting against his shoulder. "We are not playing games."

"I can learn too!"

"You are not a soldier." Mustafa did not even look at me, already turning back to his sparring partner. "You are not even useful."

Mehmed was the only one who pretended to care, giving me his easy, careless smile.

"Little sister, you should be with the women," he said, flicking my forehead with two fingers. "We are busy."

"I just want to be near you."

"Then sit quietly. Do not make a fuss."

So I did. I sat in the dirt, in the sun, in the cold. I waited for them to acknowledge me.

They never did.

Layla was everything I was not. Four years older than me, and stunning. The true daughter of a Sultan

She was graceful where I was clumsy, beautiful where I was plain, loved where I was ignored.

"Your sister was never like this," my mother would say as she brushed my hair, her touch firm and impersonal. "She knew how to behave, how to walk, how to be wanted."

Layla was desired by all who saw her. Even the women in the harem whispered about her, about her elegance, her cruelty, her charm.

"You are fat, Esmira," she told me one afternoon, watching as I struggled to fit into the new silk kaftan our mother had gifted me. "And slow. And foolish."

"You are my sister," I whispered. "You should love me."

She only smiled.

"Love is earned, little one. And you have done nothing to earn it."

Then, one day, a week after my tenth birthday everything changed. I was going to my father, to try and capture his attention again when I heard her. My mother.

"She is useless, Hünkârım. If you will not marry her off, then send her away."

I pressed my back against the lattice screen, breath trapped in my chest. I was too young to marry. Baba always said he would wait till I was eighteen. That he would keep me forever if I wanted.

"To where?" He replied sharply.

"To the Greeks," my mother said smoothly, as if my fate was nothing more than a chess piece being moved across the board. "The Basileus of Morea wishes for an Ottoman princess as a ward. A peace offering."

"She is only a child, Mehdrivan."

"She is a disgrace."

Silence. A silence so deep it felt like the air itself had stopped moving.

Then, finally, the words that destroyed me.

"Fine."

The world blurred around me. My heart slammed against my ribs, a desperate, caged thing trying to claw its way out. I waited till my mother had left, till i could no longer hear her cruelty.

No. No, no, no.

I did not think. I ran.

I burst into my father’s chamber, barefoot, breathless, trembling.

He stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the courtyard below. The glow of the setting sun burned against his silhouette, making him seem even larger, more untouchable.

I was eight again, running to him after falling in the gardens, scraped knees and teary eyes, knowing he would pick me up, soothe me, call me his moon.

But I was not eight. And he did not turn.

"Baba!" I cried, voice breaking.

Slowly, he turned to me.

For a moment, just a moment, his face softened. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the unreadable mask of a ruler, not a father.

"Esmira," he said, his voice even, measured. Distant.

I did not hesitate—I threw myself at his feet.

"Baba, please!" I clutched at the hem of his kaftan, my nails digging into the silk as if I could physically hold myself to him. "I will be good—I will do better! I don’t want to go! I don’t know their language, their God—they will kill me! Let me stay! I love you, Baba! I will stay by your side forever!"

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Stand up, Esmira."

"No!" I sobbed into the fabric of his robes, shaking my head, pressing my forehead to his knee like a beggar at the steps of a mosque. "Please, please, please, I will do anything! I will stop following my brothers, I will stop embarrassing you, I will be what you want, just don’t send me away!"

Nothing.

Not a touch. Not a word.

I felt his silence like a blade slicing through me.

"I do not care about peace!" I cried, hands fisting against him. "I only care about you!"

Finally, finally, he spoke.

"You must go, Esmira. It is for the good of the empire."

Something deep inside me cracked—so violently I swore I heard it echo in the vast, empty space of the chamber.

I recoiled from him, stumbling back.

"You are my father!" My breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. "I am your daughter! I am not a pawn for your empire!"

He did not move. He did not reach for me.

"You are a princess of the Ottoman Empire." His voice was hard, cold. A warlord’s voice, not a father’s. "You will do your duty."

I shook my head, tears burning like acid down my cheeks.

"If you send me away, I will never love you again."

Something flickered in his eyes.

"Esmira—"

"I swear to God, Baba!" My voice rose in fury, in anguish, in something too deep to name. "I swear by Allah Himself, if you listen to my mother, if you send me away, I will never forgive you! Never! You will not be my father anymore!"

His nostrils flared. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"You will not speak to me that way."

"You are not listening to me!"

I was screaming now, screaming as if the force of my voice alone could bring him back to me.

"I will hate you for the rest of my life!"

And then—he struck me.

The first slap sent me reeling. The second tore the breath from my lungs.

My ears rang. My vision blurred.

I staggered back, stunned, unable to process what had just happened.

He had never hit me before.

Never.

Not once in my entire life.

His sons had felt his hand before—when they disobeyed, when they failed, when they acted recklessly. But not me.

Never me.

I stared up at him, at the man who had once held me in his arms, who had once called me his moon.

I did not recognize him.

He was no longer my Baba—he was Sultan Suleiman, the Great Turk, the Shadow of God on Earth, the warlord who crushed enemies beneath his heel and ruled an empire with an iron fist.

And now, I was afraid of him.

His expression shifted. Regret flickered in his gaze. His hands trembled as he reached for me.

"Esmira—"

I flinched.

I flinched away from him.

For the first time in my life, I feared my own father.

The moment stretched between us, heavy, suffocating.

I saw the realization dawn on him—saw the way his chest rose sharply, saw the way his hands fell to his sides, saw the guilt carve into his face like stone.

But I did not give him the chance to take it back.

I turned and ran.

I did not stop running.

Not when I reached the halls. Not when the guards called after me. Not when my mother’s voice echoed in the distance.

I ran until my lungs burned, until the cold air cut through my thin silk dress, until the world blurred into nothing but streaks of gold and blue and white.

The moon above me was full and bright, casting silver light across the palace gardens.

I pressed my forehead to the earth, fingers digging into the soil.

"I will come back."

The words left my lips like a prayer.

"I swear it."

"And when I do, I will never love you again."

OKKK YA'LL??? WHAT DO YA'LL THINK??? YOU LIKE??? I TRIED SO HARD ON THIS SO PLS BE NICE! I'M KINDA SCARED TO PUT THIS OUT BC ITS NOT MY USUAL CONTENT AND I CHANGED MY WRITING STYLE A BIT, BUT I HOPE IT INTERESTS PEOPLE!! Likes, comments, asks and reblongs are always appreciated, also the platonic yanderes in this story are Sultan Suleiman, Sultana Medrivah, Sehzade Mehmed, Mustafa, and Selmin!

also, yk ur writings good when u got ppl in ur dms and asks telling u its AI. Like bitch please, I spend HOURS thinking of plots and dialougue only to have some random anon saying its AI????? like be fr.

@cluelessatthispoint I Made This Based On Your Platonic Pyro And Blu Spy Reader Fic :>

I Hope You Enjoy

I can so see him spoiling her with expensive gifts.

First oc eurhgeurgheurgh

Warnings? Mentions of violence, prostitution, drugs, uhh yandere behaviors?

I notice that this seems like pineconepie's story and I never intended for that to happen!

implied fem reader but you may ignore it as it is only mentioned once

You were a prostitute, street walker, whore, lady of the night, tramp, the names were endless and you weren't proud of your job..nobody who took part was except the perverted men and women that used your services.

You'd often stay in hotel lobbies during the night if they didn't immediately kick you out. One night, after working for a while you crashed at the Everett hotel, owned by Cedar Everett who apparently was a mafia boss. You couldn't care less, A lobby couch was a lobby couch despite the weird stares from the desk security.

After that night whenever you walked by the desk security always watched you through the window..embarrassing they probably thought you were a weirdo.. Who sleeps in a couch in a lobby? You ignored it most of the time though, too busy to care and too embarrassed to go back to attempt to sleep or try and explain.

a black SUV was parked outside once..very nice car in your humble opinion. The windows so tinted you could barley see through them, though you watched from an alleyway as Cedar Everett climbed out..holy shit! You quickly backed into an alley, not for any reason having to acquaint yourself with the scary man who ran the whole city.

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you walked deeper into the alley, hugging your leather jacket tight and trudging towards another hotel that didn't seem to care if you stayed in the lobby most nights. You looked back and noticed nobody there and shook of the feeling, maybe it was the air.

It'd been two weeks since you'd first seen cedar when things started showing up at hotel room doors if your clients ever got rooms. You were a little confused but the things were nice food, drinks, hair products, not just skimpy pieces of fabric but actual clothing.

Happened every time no matter what hotel you were staying at. You kept them all in a backpack you'd gotten, keeping it close at night to avoid others from stealing your things. Something you'd learned quickly during your first nights.

You'd decided to muscle up and go back to the Everett hotel, it has the nicest couches. You'd slowly walked in as a security guard came up..and oh god were they gonna kick you out? Much to your surprise he handed you a room key "i..have you mistaken me for someone else..?" You asked and he shook his head before stepping back.

Did he feel bad last time..well god that was embarrassing. You slowly walked over to the elevator and punched in the floor number, shifting from foot to foot as you waited and admiring the details of the elevator. Fancy people designed this..not for some street walker like you though.

You stepped out and searched for your room, unlocking it and admiring the sight. This room was huge! You set your bag down carefully and locked the hotel door, running over and collapsing in the cushy bed with a laugh.

Maybe this was the best night of your life in a while. You took some of the food out of your bag after showering and slowly ate some of it, still admiring the room. After a while you felt drowsy, laying down on the bed and falling asleep quickly.

You jolted awake as you heard the door open. You stared in shock at the man who was standing there..Cedar! You slowly crawled back in the bed and stared at the black haired man in a nice blouse and dress pants, diamond stud earrings in his ears and a soft smirk on his face.

"please don't hurt me" you muttered, though loud enough for him to hear apparently as his face turned into a frown. "Oh baby..why would I hurt a little kid?" He asked as he walked closer and you frowned.. Little kid? Excuse him you were a very grown adult.

"Im an adult..I'm literally a prostitute.." You muttered and he frowned even more "A little kid swept into s grown up job..poor thing" he muttered as he walked over and picked you up, not being phased by your flailing.

"it's okay sugar, dads here now" he muttered as he walked out, taking you to the elevator and to the garage for guests, shushing you in the hallways with a "others are sleeping honey, lets be nice" nice your ass this man just kid..abducted you!

He walked over to the same black SUV from weeks ago and climbed in. Well what the hall, your life wasn't gonna get any better but this was definitely making it worse!

I can so see her being coddled and never left alone

Yandere! Royal family × Neglected Reader

The Reborn Royal Part 1

Summary: This is one of those storys where y/n is born to royal family but the family treats them horribly and they become reborn and try to change their fate. Except, this y/n has been through the loop many. Many times, always meeting their doom, until one loop it suddenly changes

Tw: violence, abuse, yandere behavior(all platonic), descriptions of death, mentions of suicide and self harm.

Another day of torment has gone bye, as usual.

This time y/n had "embaressed" the family at a royal ball ruining their older siblings proposals. And being punished heavily for it.

Beaten and bruised y/n retreated to the library, one of the only places you know is safe from the torment on account of how large it is. Always finding books that have been hidden away covered in dust for who knows how long.

The library was always so quiet, you always liked that about it, you weren't yelled at here, weren't beaten here due to the importance of the library.

So you were free to explore and read to your hearts content, thats when you found it.

A book unlike anything you've ever seen before, a book with no cover, and seemingly having empty pages until you reach the middle of the book and see it written.

"Ask for it and it shall be yours. But be careful what you wish for"

You wonder what this means, you've seen magic before, even learned it in some previous lives, but you've never known magic, let alone any books that could grant wishes. Still, after so many lifetimes of pain and suffering, you think about what to wish for that could save you from this.

"I... I wish for my life to change, to have a loving, caring family, to go throughout my days not needing to fear pain just for existing" y/n starts to sob, wishful thinking they think to themselves, that is until the text on the book starts to move around and change.

"Your wish has been granted. The next time you wake up your life will be changed forever" the text then fades from the book as if it was never there in the first place. Y/n puts the book back where they found it and filled with hope that they hadn't had in a long time, they head off to bed hoping that the book worked and that finally things will change for the better.

....

.......

It does not.

Nothing seems to have changed. Everything is the same as it was. It's been a few weeks since you've made your wish, and unfortunately the torment hasn't let up, not even a little bit. Your Mother and Father, the Queen and King respectively continue to ignore your existence completely, ashamed to have birthed a useless child like you. Throughout your lives no matter what you did they always saw you the same, it shouldn't still hurt after so long but it does.

Your siblings, have changed, but only for the worst, since your last embaressment on them your older brothers have been pushing you around more and more, your older sister, while she doesn't harm you physically whenever she's near you she makes it her job to remind you about how much of a failure you are. How you always ruin everything.

You never should have gotten your hopes up. You don't know why you even try anymore. What's the point of living through these lives if the outcome is all the same, waiting for the day you'll die in some horrible way, usually killed, but there has been the occasional accident.

Something snaps. You can't live like this anymore, maybe... maybe if instead of being killed... maybe if you kill yourself it'll all stop...

And that's what you do.

While the rest of your "family" is hosting another ball to repair the damage you've done. You make your move, heading to one of the palace balconys and ending it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Royal Family have just announced they are having another child, they should be rejoicing but ever since the Queen discovered she was pregnant they whole family seems to have fallen under a curse of some kind.

Visions of the future, of pain, of... a person? They've never seen this person yet they look so much like them. And they see themselves too but.. somethings wrong with them. The visions are horrible, seeing each of them hurting this unknown person.

At first the Queen thought she was just having pregnancy nightmares, but then she overhears her boys fighting about something they've seen.

The Royal family gathers to discuss and discovers that they've all been getting this visions, visions of different lives, of this persons different lives. They've discovered that their visions line up, but still have many differences.

Preists, Mages, Wizards, they've called everyone they could from all over the kingdom that could possibly explain what's happening to them. To make it stop.

But none of them could figure it out.

This continues for months and they only seem to get worse. At first it was merely people who looked like them being rude, or obnoxious, or bullys, but has time went on the people in these visions got meaner. Got violent. And then the deaths started to show.

They can only watch in horror as this person dies time and time again. They refuse to believe that the people in these visions could be them. Why would they ever hurt this "y/n" this way. They don't understand it. The children wake up screaming so often that for the last month of the Queens pregnancy the family refuses to leave each other's side.

And then it happens. The day that changes everything. The day the Queen gives birth, they all have one final vision, for once, it's the same vision as well. They see this "y/n" holding a book, making their wish, and then... jumping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything is dark, and for a moment, you think this may really be the end for once... so many emotions all at once but there's no time to think before there's a bright light and you open up your eyes.

And you see them. It didn't work. You start to cry, and you cry hard, you immediately expect to be handed over to a maid as always, but instead the queen Your mother, she keeps you in her arms and tries her best to comfort you. Looking at you for the first time and she cries.

This is strange. She's never reacted like this, she's never held you like this she's-

"It's her."

A states, you can't see him but you recognize your father's voice. The voice of a king is hard to forget.

"There she is. Y/n."

You flinch at your name being said, you don't think anything of it, but they notice. They never wanna see you flinch again. Your only a baby. Your THEIR baby.

They have you now. So small, so delicate, so fragile, they won't let anyone hurt you. They've seen the visions, they've seen your deaths, and while you don't know it. They've vowed to never let you go through any of that ever again.

No matter what. You will get what you wished for. They'll make sure of it.

RhaegarWins! Au: Rhaegar killed Robert in the trident, Robert's Rebellion fails; Aerys dies, Rhaegar becomes king and in the end of the war he gets his third head of the dragon. Lyanna gives birth to a daughter not a son (the reader)Visenya.

But not all its sunshine and rainbows for Rhaegar Targaryen, this is an you won but at what cost scenario. First of Lyanna still dies in this scenario and since she's dead and can't tell if she went willing or not people always speculate whether she was abducted or she went willing. The faith has a long standing tradition of opposing polygamy so Rhaegar marriage to Lyanna is not recognized as legitimate, baby Visenya is a bastard, and the northerns and the stormlanders are pissed with the outcome of the rebellion. (Especially the stormlanders).

Rhaegar inherits a broken kingdom and so he goes problem solving. First he is lenient on the rebels. He takes hostages, he takes a little land from the minor Lords but let most of them keep their castles. The starks, Tully and arryns keep all of their titles and since he is walking on thin ice, and doesn't want a conflict with the faith right now,He recognizes that his marriage to Lyanna is illegitimate (the northerns are even more pissed by this), but he has Visenya legitimized and tries to appease the starks he is more lenient to them and Ned gets a royal ward, Princess Visenya.

So house Targaryen it's at its weakest point in history. worst than the dance of dragon's. But Rhaegar being Rhaegar raises Aegon to belive that he is the prince that was promised and tells him that he and his sisters are the conquerors come again and that one day he is going to marry both of them. Now neither Aegon or Rhaenys belive in their father's bullshit because Elia its a big influence in their lives. But one day Rhaegar decides that it's time to Visenya to come home and they both start developing yandare tendencies for her 😈 they may not belive in their father's prophecies but they would definitely use them to trap poor Visenya. Now I ask you what kind of yandare would Rhaenys and Aegon be? What are their differences? What are their similarities? What are your thoughts on this concept?

tw: Targaryen incest (very usual)

I didn't expect to receive this until I read it and I say I need more!! An au where Rhaegar would win Robert's Rebellion was not something I needed until you sent me this!!

Considering that all of history had changed, relations would be strained and resentment would run high, particularly between the remaining Targaryens and the Starks. I like to think that Viserys and Daenerys grew up in King's Landing with their brother, but their bastard daughter, Visenya/Y/n, went to live with the Starks. In that case, I imagine everyone would know that she is not Ned's daughter but Rhaegar's daughter, it would be fun to imagine her dynamic with the Starks.

Ned grew to love his niece, even though she represents everything that happened to his beloved sister, he still loves his niece. He resents Rhaegar, but he doesn't hate Visenya. She is just a child, i'ts not her fault her father's mistakes. I can't help but think how cool and inconvenient it would be if the entire Stark family became yandere for her. Catelyn came to love the girl as her daughter, because she was not ''Ned's bastard'', as Jon would be, she was the most present mother figure in Visenya's life and she would become delusional to the point of imagining she was really her daughter.

When Rhaegar ordered Visenya/Y/n to return home, the hell would break. The Starks don't want her to go, they don't trust the Targaryens to look after her like they do and she has grown used to the North. But they couldn't ignore Rhaegar's orders, they weren't ready for another war, the last one cost them too much, so Visenya reluctantly returned to King's Landing, meeting with her father, uncle and aunt and siblings.

Relationships would be fun to describe, I think. Rhaegar is definitely very attached to Visenya, due to the fact that she is Lyanna's daughter and he regrets not having seen her grow up, although he knew it was the best thing to do at the time. Elia had reservations about Rhaegar's bastard daughter, it wasn't resentment or hatred, but… Curiosity and she soon finds herself liking her stepdaughter.

Viserys doesn't think much of his niece, he doesn't care, at least at first. She was just Lyanna and Rhaegar's bastard child, why should he care? But Viserys finds himself interested in the way everyone else acts around Visenya and ends up finding himself closer to his niece. Obsessed, maybe.

I would imagine that Visenya and Daenerys would have been born around the same time, so the two would be the same or close in age at the very least. They would definitely be close and Dany finds herself very attached to her niece. Although they didn't grow up together, the two eventually became best friends.

Now about Aegon and Rhaenys… Definitely the trio would be the differentiated version of Aegon I, Rhaenys and Visenya. They might not believe in the prophecy, but they couldn't deny that as soon as they met their sister, things changed. Before her, Aegon and Rhaenys clung to each other, along with their mother, but it felt like something was missing. A hole in the inseparable duo and when they met... It was you who was missing.

Aegon is, in my opinion, the obsessive and slightly overprotective yandere type. He felt an instant connection with Visenya and could not deny her desires for her and as is tradition, he would take her and Rhaenys as his wives. Just like Aegon I did. It didn't matter if polygamy wasn't allowed, he would do it and he would have Rhaegar's support and maybe even Elia's. Aegon is very paranoid about his sister and will not let her leave him and Rhaenys. They were already created apart, he won't allow that again.

Rhaenys would be calmer and gentler than her brother, but she's a clingy, possessive yandere, I think. She would be particularly possessive of her sister and brother, wanting them both with her at all times. Rhaenys would definitely send jealous, murderous glares at people she deems a threat to her and her siblings. Rhaenys would grow sharp and strong.

Who knows the prophecy will not be fulfilled? With this trio. Perhaps dragons come back to life through Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys. Perhaps the prince who was promised is not only a prince, but... A prince, a princess and a bastard? All Targaryens, different but so... close.

The world of Ice and Fire would be quite different from what we know, but interesting, don't you think?

~ Lady L

"The moon"

ok ya'll! I know I said I'm doing another chapter of this is me trying (and I am) buttttt I read @i-cant-sing's time traveler AU and I could not stop thinking about it. I'm muslim and it's Ramadan and I realized I have free will to write whatever I want, SO i present to you a platonic yandere story set in the Ottoman Empire. kinda based on real people and events, but a lot of things are just my imagination! I am NOT a history buff, I just enjoy historical things, if something is wrong, feel free to politely correct me. The main character is a female and does have a name (Esmira) and face type BUT i try not to go into her too much so you can imagine what you like. Credits to @i-cant-sing, it was their writing that inspired me! check out their works, they're really talented! I DO NOT SPEAK TURKISH, ALL MY KNOWLEDGE IS GOOGLED AND SURFACE LEVEL.

Ottoman Empire, Constantinople

Year 1524

I was my father’s moon.

"Benim ayım."

He called me that when I nestled against his side, his arms encircling me as he listened to my childish recitation of the Qur’an, my voice small yet steady. “My little moon,” he would murmur, pressing a kiss to my forehead when I finished. “No one recites as beautifully as my Esmira.”

To me, he was not Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. The Lawgiver, the formidable warlord. To me, he was my beloved Baba.

I would giggle, curling my fingers into the folds of his kaftan. I never sat apart from him, never kept a polite distance. When we dined, I ate off his plate, tearing bread from his own hands, dipping it into his soup the way I had since I was old enough to chew.

"You will spoil her, Hünkârım," my mother, Medriveh, would say from across the room, watching as my father lifted me onto his lap, letting me pick the ripest dates from his tray.

"She is already spoiled," he would reply, laughter deep in his chest. And he would not send me away. He never sent me away.

I prayed with him, every dawn and every dusk, my small voice whispering after his as we kneeled on the prayer rugs. When my hands trembled in the cold, he would clasp them in his own, warming them against his palms.

"When you are older, you will have a place beside me," he had told me once, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. "Even when I go to war, my moon will stay in my sky."

I believed him.

When he rode through the palace gates on his great black stallion, I was the only one out of my siblings- Mustafa, Selmin, Mehmed, and Layla- he lifted onto the saddle before him. I would press my cheek to his chest, feeling his laughter rumble beneath my ear as he held the reins in one hand, keeping me close with the other.

I thought it would always be like that. I thought nothing could take me from him.

I was wrong.

My mother never hit me.

She did not need to.

Her weapons were sharper than any blade, her words precise and cruel, cutting deep where no one could see.

"You embarrass me, Esmira," she would sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose whenever I stumbled in my lessons or tripped over my skirts. "Must you always follow your brothers like a stray dog? They have no use for you."

"I just want to be with them."

"They do not want to be with you."

Her disappointment weighed heavier than any slap.

I had always adored Mustafa, Selmin, and Mehmed. I ran after them in the gardens, trailed them through the halls, sat at their feet as they practiced swordplay.

I wanted to be part of their world, to belong with them as I had once belonged with my father.

But they were always too fast, too sharp, too indifferent.

"Go away, Esmira." Selmin’s voice was rough, barely sparing me a glance as he wiped sweat from his brow, his sword resting against his shoulder. "We are not playing games."

"I can learn too!"

"You are not a soldier." Mustafa did not even look at me, already turning back to his sparring partner. "You are not even useful."

Mehmed was the only one who pretended to care, giving me his easy, careless smile.

"Little sister, you should be with the women," he said, flicking my forehead with two fingers. "We are busy."

"I just want to be near you."

"Then sit quietly. Do not make a fuss."

So I did. I sat in the dirt, in the sun, in the cold. I waited for them to acknowledge me.

They never did.

Layla was everything I was not. Four years older than me, and stunning. The true daughter of a Sultan

She was graceful where I was clumsy, beautiful where I was plain, loved where I was ignored.

"Your sister was never like this," my mother would say as she brushed my hair, her touch firm and impersonal. "She knew how to behave, how to walk, how to be wanted."

Layla was desired by all who saw her. Even the women in the harem whispered about her, about her elegance, her cruelty, her charm.

"You are fat, Esmira," she told me one afternoon, watching as I struggled to fit into the new silk kaftan our mother had gifted me. "And slow. And foolish."

"You are my sister," I whispered. "You should love me."

She only smiled.

"Love is earned, little one. And you have done nothing to earn it."

Then, one day, a week after my eleventh birthday everything changed. I was going to my father, to try and capture his attention again when I heard her. My mother.

"She is useless, Hünkârım. If you will not marry her off, then send her away."

I pressed my back against the lattice screen, breath trapped in my chest. I was too young to marry. Baba always said he would wait till I was eighteen. That he would keep me forever if I wanted.

"To where?" He replied sharply.

"To the Greeks," my mother said smoothly, as if my fate was nothing more than a chess piece being moved across the board. "The Basileus of Morea wishes for an Ottoman princess as a ward. A peace offering."

"She is only a child, Mehdrivan."

"She is a disgrace."

Silence. A silence so deep it felt like the air itself had stopped moving.

Then, finally, the words that destroyed me.

"Fine."

The world blurred around me. My heart slammed against my ribs, a desperate, caged thing trying to claw its way out. I waited till my mother had left, till i could no longer hear her cruelty.

No. No, no, no.

I did not think. I ran.

Baba

I burst into my father’s chamber, barefoot, breathless, trembling.

He stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the courtyard below. The glow of the setting sun burned against his silhouette, making him seem even larger, more untouchable.

I was eight again, running to him after falling in the gardens, scraped knees and teary eyes, knowing he would pick me up, soothe me, call me his moon.

But I was not eight. And he did not turn.

"Baba!" I cried, voice breaking.

Slowly, he turned to me.

For a moment, just a moment, his face softened. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the unreadable mask of a ruler, not a father.

"Esmira," he said, his voice even, measured. Distant.

I did not hesitate—I threw myself at his feet.

"Baba, please!" I clutched at the hem of his kaftan, my nails digging into the silk as if I could physically hold myself to him. "I will be good—I will do better! I don’t want to go! I don’t know their language, their God—they will kill me! Let me stay! I love you, Baba! I will stay by your side forever!"

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Stand up, Esmira."

"No!" I sobbed into the fabric of his robes, shaking my head, pressing my forehead to his knee like a beggar at the steps of a mosque. "Please, please, please, I will do anything! I will stop following my brothers, I will stop embarrassing you, I will be what you want, just don’t send me away!"

Nothing.

Not a touch. Not a word.

I felt his silence like a blade slicing through me.

"I do not care about peace!" I cried, hands fisting against him. "I only care about you!"

Finally, finally, he spoke.

"You must go, Esmira. It is for the good of the empire."

Something deep inside me cracked—so violently I swore I heard it echo in the vast, empty space of the chamber.

I recoiled from him, stumbling back.

"You are my father!" My breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. "I am your daughter! I am not a pawn for your empire!"

He did not move. He did not reach for me.

"You are a princess of the Ottoman Empire." His voice was hard, cold. A warlord’s voice, not a father’s. "You will do your duty."

I shook my head, tears burning like acid down my cheeks.

"If you send me away, I will never love you again."

Something flickered in his eyes.

"Esmira—"

"I swear to God, Baba!" My voice rose in fury, in anguish, in something too deep to name. "I swear by Allah Himself, if you listen to my mother, if you send me away, I will never forgive you! Never! You will not be my father anymore!"

His nostrils flared. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"You will not speak to me that way."

"You are not listening to me!"

I was screaming now, screaming as if the force of my voice alone could bring him back to me.

"I will hate you for the rest of my life!"

And then—he struck me.

The first slap sent me reeling. The second tore the breath from my lungs.

My ears rang. My vision blurred.

I staggered back, stunned, unable to process what had just happened.

He had never hit me before.

Never.

Not once in my entire life.

His sons had felt his hand before—when they disobeyed, when they failed, when they acted recklessly. But not me.

Never me.

I stared up at him, at the man who had once held me in his arms, who had once called me his moon.

I did not recognize him.

He was no longer my Baba—he was Sultan Suleiman, the Great Turk, the Shadow of God on Earth, the warlord who crushed enemies beneath his heel and ruled an empire with an iron fist.

And now, I was afraid of him.

His expression shifted. Regret flickered in his gaze. His hands trembled as he reached for me.

"Esmira—"

I flinched.

I flinched away from him.

For the first time in my life, I feared my own father.

The moment stretched between us, heavy, suffocating.

I saw the realization dawn on him—saw the way his chest rose sharply, saw the way his hands fell to his sides, saw the guilt carve into his face like stone.

But I did not give him the chance to take it back.

I turned and ran.

I did not stop running.

Not when I reached the halls. Not when the guards called after me. Not when my mother’s voice echoed in the distance.

I ran until my lungs burned, until the cold air cut through my thin silk dress, until the world blurred into nothing but streaks of gold and blue and white.

The moon above me was full and bright, casting silver light across the palace gardens.

I pressed my forehead to the earth, fingers digging into the soil.

"I will come back."

The words left my lips like a prayer.

"I swear it."

"And when I do, I will never love you again."

OKKK YA'LL??? WHAT DO YA'LL THINK??? YOU LIKE??? I TRIED SO HARD ON THIS SO PLS BE NICE! I'M KINDA SCARED TO PUT THIS OUT BC ITS NOT MY USUAL CONTENT AND I CHANGED MY WRITING STYLE A BIT, BUT I HOPE IT INTERESTS PEOPLE!! Likes, comments, asks and reblongs are always appreciated, also the platonic yanderes in this story are Sultan Suleiman, Sultana Medrivah, Sehzade Mehmed, Mustafa, and Selmin!

also, yk ur writings good when u got ppl in ur dms and asks telling u its AI. Like bitch please, I spend HOURS thinking of plots and dialougue only to have some random anon saying its AI????? like be fr.

I can so see a war being started by their followers. Or them having a whole temple of worshipers that follows them.

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

Good story

Written in the Stars

Platonic Yandere Older Brother & Younger Selkie Genderneutral Reader

Your home life is tense at the best of times, with your mother fickle and moody and your father more concerned with her than his children. It would be complete misery without your brother, Cillian, who looked after you the way your parents should have, a bright light in your gloomy days.

But as family secrets come to the surface and your life starts to unravel, you're forced to wonder if your brother is any better than the parents that raised him.

Content Warnings: confinement, forced marriage (not between reader), unhealthy relationships, abandonment issues, mentions of mental illness, child abuse, child endangerment, isolation, death, and general yandere shenanigans. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 10.5k

Authors Note: I played it pretty fast and loose with this one so I have no idea when exactly this takes place, but it's somewhere before the industrial revolution in Ireland. So if you're wondering why there's no modern technology, that's why lol also this turned out way longer then it was supposed to, I have no idea why, it was supposed to be a quick 2k story and then it just got away from me. Whoops. Also the mother and fathers story is loosely based on traditional fairytale of fish wives and selkies. I remember reading a couple and thinking "wouldn't it be messed up if they had children?" And. Well. You can tell me how messed up it turned out lol

You're sick. You were born sick, and you always will be. It's all you remember.

Your first memory was of little four year old you wandering out of the house. Father was fishing, Cillian was tending to the animals and Mother was resting because of sickness as per usual, so there was no one to stop you. No concerned caregiver to bustle you back into the house and scold you for your carelessness as you pouted for being denied your will.

You simply walked out the front door.

You had no understanding of what you were doing. Just a unceasing tug propelling you out and way from the house until the air smelled of salt, and you could hear the faint crashing of waves steadily growing louder.

Then there was the sea.

Your memories get fuzzy then, as your mind grew clouded by pure, blinding need. But you do remember the feel of grass slowly turning to sand under your bare feet. The way the rolling of the waves enveloped your mind completely, your eyes unable to move away.

Then your feet hit the cold of the water, and you snap awake, looking around, finally aware of where you are, and how far away from home it was. Confused and on the verge of panic, you try to call out for your brother only for your eyes to be pulled back into the blue, and all thoughts are gone, and you feel a deep, primordial comfort, the same comfort you imagine children feel when being embraced by their mother.

You step forward.

First, it's up to your feet, then your knees, then your waist. The salt water saps away at your body heat the deeper you go, but you don't mind it, you don't mind anything at all. After all, you're right where you're meant to be.

The salt water is almost up to your chest when you're swept off your feet and taken away from the water. You begin to thrash and cry, a horrible, searing pain in your chest at being separated from the sea, like a part of your being was torn from your body. Your cries are so loud, you don't even realize that it's Cillian who took you away until he turns you toward him and starts yelling at you.

The specifics of it are lost on you, but it's not hard to guess, given the circumstances. What you do remember is his young, acne covered face contorted in unfamiliar anger that you've never seen before or since.

It might have frightened you more if it wasn't for the immense pain and loss you were feeling.

But yelling wasn't enough for him. He starts shaking you by the shoulders and demands why you were there in the first place. You were still crying, nothing but running snot and big, hot tears, but you managed to wail an answer, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Put me back, put me back. I'm supposed to be there. It hurts. Put me back.

The shaking stops, and so does the yelling. There's nothing but your loud, desperate sobs as you beg to walk back into the sea.

Without warning, he picked you up and began to make the trip home.

You started to thrash again, increasing loud "NO NO NO"s running out of your mouth as your soft, weak body tries to slip out, but his grip is iron. He only squeezes you tighter until you eventually tire.

You spend the rest of the trip shivering in his arms, finally able to feel the cold again.

When you arrive home, he ushers you into your room and tells you to change out of your sea-soaked clothes as he heads towards another part of the house.

You obey, more out of habit then anything else, your mind still numb. When you finish, you sit and wait until he comes and grabs you, taking you into your parent's room.

Mother was sitting up in bed.

Cillian placed you beside her, and for a strange, uncanny moment, you stare into her unblinking, dark eyes. It's all you can do.

This moment last so long, you think she has fallen into one of her stupors. But she blinks, and the spell is broken. With her same blank face, she pats the bed. You tentatively comply, taking your place next to her.

"Cillian has said you've been to the ocean. Is this true?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, slow, and so foreign on your ears.

You nod, refusing to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me, what was it like?"

Your little mouth twist into a grimace. Something deep in you tells your mind to keep silent.

Your brother steps in.

"They were going to drown, Ma! They said-"

"Hush, Cillian."

She didn't spare him a glance, eyes trained on you.

Her hand snakes over your face, her cold flesh cupping your face as she turns your head to face her. Her eyes burrow into yours, and you can't help but feel small and weak. You have no more will to resist.

"Why did you go down there?"

"It was calling me."

"What was?"

"The sea, it was singing to me. I needed to go to it. I couldn't help myself"

For the first time in your life, you saw your mother smile.

It was a disturbed smile. The kind that didn't reach her eyes, that looked more like bared teeth then a sincere display of joy.

"I knew it. Your father tried to hide it, but I knew the moment you were born. You're just like me."

She let you go, and without another word, laid down, with her back turned to her children.

The entire thing disturbed and confused you, and you immediately looked to Cillian for explanation and reassurance.

Instead, you saw him frozen, a look of terror on his face as he stared at Mother's form.

But then he caught your eye, schooled his features into something more neutral, and carried you out of the room, out of the house, and into the sheep pen, where you wordlessly helped him take care of the animals until your Father came home.

Father was much more laissez-faire about the whole ordeal. Cillian explained everything to him, nerves alight after Mothers declaration, and to your Fathers credit, he listened patiently, never once interrupting the younger boys nervous speech. When Cillian was done, Father turned to you, and in a disturbingly casual manner, explained to you that your mother had passed on her sickness to you.

When you asked when it would go away, he laughed until Cillian yelled at him to stop.

That was when you got the news that though it wasn't as potent as your mother's illness, it was still permanent. You would live and die with this affliction.

You stood there dumbly as your father idly ruffled your head and told you that there were worse things to have. You think he was about to tell you to get ready for bed before Cillian exploded on him.

It was obvious you had no place in the conversation anymore, and you tried to make your way to your room before Cillian snatched you and took you to his room, his face red with tears.

You slept in his bed that night.

The following day, you were no longer allowed to stay in the house and play like you usually did. Instead, Cillian made you follow him wherever he went, not letting you stray from his line of sight. When your father came home that following day, he brought with him a bell at Cillians' request, which you were made to wear at all times, even as you slept.

Slowly, more symptoms began to manifest. At times, your mind would fog over, unable to focus on anything for periods of time. The sound of waves would ring through your ear, though you were nowhere near the shore. And occasionally, dreams of the sea would haunt you. Beautiful, painful dreams that would leave you crying in your wake, which in turn woke up poor Cillian. But ever the loving brother, he would go to your side and sooth you until you fell asleep again. In the case of especially distressing dreams, he would sleep with you, and no nightmares would dare plague you when Cillian was with you.

And, on very rare instances, you would feel it again. That same tug that changed your world, that demanded you return to the ocean where you belong. Your mind would switch off, and your feet would move of their own accord towards the shore. But you would misstep, or trip, or some other mishap would occur, and the bell would ring. The spell would break just long enough for you to run back towards Cillian and tell him what was happening before you slipped away again. He'd take you in his arms and mutter soothing words, keeping you close until the episode passed.

But those were few, and grew fewer as you grew older. Most days, the worst of your symptoms were brain fog, which was not pleasant but much better than walking towards a cold death in the sea.

No, most days were rather enjoyable. You would wake up to Cillian making breakfast and wait to eat until he finished serving your mother, who only ate in her room. Then you would follow him around as he did his errands for the day, sometimes helping, sometimes busying yourself with your own task. If he got done early, he would read to you or help you with your writing. He used to try and help with your arithmetic, but it became obvious that he wasn't good enough with numbers to teach you. Then, if your mind was clear, you would help with dinner and sneak bites whenever Cillian wasn't looking. Dinner would then be ready, and Father would usually be home by then, give you both polite greetings, and then he would take two plates and make his way to his room to spend the rest of the evening with Mother, as you and your brother spent the evening with each other until bed.

True, there were times when it felt like you were being smothered by Cillian and his constant worry and argue that you didn't need the constant monitoring. Sometimes, these arguments would get the both of you irritated beyond reason with each other, having you both oscillating between petty bickering and the silent treatment.

But those were few and far in between. Most of that time was marked by the games you would play with him when you should have been working, by the silly songs he taught you when you got bored of watching him work, of the gentle coaxing he would give when your mind wandered from you. Those moments when he would take you into the field in the middle of the night and teach you about the constellations, or help you make flower crowns, which he would gladly wear until they withered and fell apart. Those days he'd grow morose about one of the many worries he had, and you would comfort him the only way a child like him could be comforted: hugging him until he felt better. Or those dark moments when you were reduced to tears by your despair at your illness, afraid that one day it would grow worse, and you would end up like your mother. He would hold you tight while crying himself and reassure you that it would never happen. And if it did, he would be there to care for you and keep you safe until the end if his days.

But this wasn't meant to last. As the years went by, Cillian was slowly coming into his adulthood and needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Father had talked to him about teaching him how to be a fisherman, but he wholeheartedly rejected the idea. Instead, he went to town and asked for an apprenticeship with the local carpenter.

The first few weeks, he brought you with him, claiming it still wasn't safe for you to stay at home without him.

Though you loathed the thought of being treated like an unruly toddler and not a child old enough to keep house by themself, the thought intrigued you. You couldn't remember the last time you got to see the village, and the mere thought caused butterflies in your stomach. New places, faces, sights, and smells... perhaps you would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans for you.

It became obvious that you and your brother were not welcome in the village. There was never any violent confrontation or hurtful words thrown your way, but instead a lack of interaction. The other children avoided your presence, and the villagers avoided you and your brothers gaze, only speaking to you when polite conduct forced them to. You could swear you heard them gossiping about you, talking about "cursed blood" and something to do with the sea, yet every time you came up to them, they would act like nothing was said.

The carpenter himself was much kinder, but his time was spent teaching your brother his craft, and you were left to your own devices, more lonely than ever.

After the first few days of begging, Cillian finally relented, and you stayed home with Mother.

The following weeks were painfully uneventful, with you taking over Cillians chores and adjusting to the new workload. Your brain fog made it difficult, causing complications, frustrations, and occasional minor injuries, which Cillian would fret over when he got home. Not that he needed those to worry, as every day he came home, he would rush through the house, his face frantic with worry. He only relaxed when he found you, and you reassured him that nothing had happened, and you were okay.

By the fourth week, you couldn't tell him that anymore, because Mother had begun taking trips outside of the house.

It was the middle of the day, and you were doing some cleaning around the house when the door to your parents' room creaked open, and Mother came out. You called out to her, but she ignored you, steadily making her way out the front door and towards the shore.

You trailed after her a safe distance away, unsure of what else to do. You were always slightly wary of her, as her presence was always a disquieting one in your home. But a vague sense of familial duty kept you from letting her wander unaccompanied.

When the shore finally came into your view, she was already on it, knelt down in the sand, in the company of an adult brown seal.

Upon this image, you felt it again. That pull towards the sea, weaker than before, but just as familiar. You tried to stop, but your feet began to move against your will. Terrified, you used the last of your free will to clench your fist, digging your nails into your palms until they punctured your skin. Only then, the spell broke, and you were able to run back home, uncaring of what would happen on the shore.

An hour or so later, she came back, a faint smile on her face as she lazily wandered back to her room.

Not long after, your brother came home, and you told him everything.

His face sunk further and further as you spoke, and when you finished, he looked like a man twice his age. He took your hand gently into his, and all but begged you not to follow her again.

"To lose Mother would be sad, to lose you would be unspeakable. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

He then made you promise to not tell Father anything that happened, and you readily agreed.

But then Mother went to visit the beach the next day. And then the next. And the day after, and the one after that, until it became common place. The visits also grew longer, to the point where you and Cillian were worried she wouldn't be home when Father returned from fishing.

That day didn't take long to come.

She had left. You had worked. Cillian came home. You both cooked dinner. Then Father came home, grabbed dinner for both him and Mother, and headed towards his room.

Then the plates shattered on the floor.

He rushed out with the eyes of a madman and interrogated the both of you on where Mother was. Cillian answered for the both of you, saying she had felt in good spirits and had gone on a walk. Your father lost it on him, struck him across the face, and let out a string of curses before marching out the front door, leaving Cillian on the floor and you crying in his wake.

You did your best to help nurse Cillians swelling face as he did his best to console your silent weeping.

Little time had passed before you heard Fathers stomping and yelling once again, with the stern voice of your Mother mixed in. You both quickly took shelter in Cillians room before they made it through the door.

The arguing continued as they went inside and into their rooms, the walls doing little to muffle their voices. It lasted for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and then an hour, with no signs of stopping. You held onto your brother as you both tried to wait out the storm happening in your house until Cillian decided that enough was enough.

He gently nudged your shoulder, then looked towards his bedroom window, and then back down towards you.

"You want to leave?"

You practically jumped at the opportunity.

He climbed through the window before helping you down, taking your hand and leading you towards the field where the sheep grazed. It was summer, so the night was comfortably warm, a full moon lighting your way. Your bare feet carefully tread the grass, making sure not to step on any burs or briars hidden in the greenery.

He stopped at a small flower patch that the both of used to love lazing around in before he had to take his apprenticeship. Cowslips, wild garlic, and wood sorrels dotted the area. He laid down and looked towards the sky, and you followed his lead, laying down next to him.

"Do you remember any of the constellations I've taught you?"

"Of course!" You say, a little indignant. How could you forget those nights of stargazing?

You search the sky, easily finding a few.

"Lets see, there's Aquarius...Capricorn... and I think that one's Gemini?"

You point in the direction of the cluster of stars, and he brings his head closer to see where your fingers led.

"Yes, that's the one. You know, some people believe the stars control your fate. Something about being born in a certain time of year connects you to certain constellations, and they determine everything about your life, even when you die."

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. You knew you were pretty sheltered, only having your brother, your father, and various books for news of the outside world, but this seemed rather confusing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know too much about it myself. Some spinster stopped me in the street a few days back and asked me if I wanted my fortune read to me. I didn't know what she meant, so she explained to me how everything about our birth, when and where you were born, determines what will happen to you. She offered to tell me about mine if I paid her."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing, her fees were too expensive, so I left."

"Boring."

He let out a chuckle. "Maybe."

The conversations then lapsed into silence, your eyes lazily gliding among the stars until he spoke again. His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked for it, even if I had the money. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me. I mean, if your whole life is written out the moment you're born, what's the purpose of it all? All your struggles, all your accomplishments, completely meaningless. And those that are destined for a horrible life, what's the point in living, if it will only end in disaster?"

You turn over to look at him, his face almost imperceptible in the faint moon light as he stares up at the sky. His hands restlessly fidget with his sleeves as he starts talking again.

"No, I can't believe that. It's too cruel. Our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, they matter. We're more than our birth."

He turns to look at you, his eyes soft and a faint, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know a better life seems impossible now, but it'll all be okay in the end. I promise."

You nod back with a smile. It's always been easy to believe the things your brother says, even if you know otherwise.

You both turn back up towards the sky, watching the stars until Cillian got up and told you it was time to head home.

The next morning, things only got worse.

It all started with you waking up in Cillians' bed, confused and disoriented, before remembering that you had refused to creep back to your own room, too afraid to run into your own parents.

Next, you noticed the sun was higher in the sky than it was usually when you woke up. Blearily, you realized you slept in late.

So you decided to wake your brother, still sleeping on the floor, and inform him of the situation. After a few minutes of calling his name, you finally decided to shake him awake. He grumpily protested the whole ordeal and was about to go back to bed until you informed him of the time.

He then threw off his thin blanket, sprang up off the floor, and opened to door with you following behind.

Until he stopped.

You peered from behind your brother and saw your father sitting at the table.

Shouldn't he be away by now?

He gave a smile to the both of you.

"Good morning, children. Why don't you take a seat? I've already prepared breakfast."

For a moment, Cillian didn't move, and neither did you. Briefly, you contemplated turning around and taking refuge in his room again, but then he started to cautiously make his way forward, and you reluctantly followed.

You and Cillian took the only two seats left, both located close to Father. You distantly wondered where Mothers chair had gone.

Your brother started to place food on his plate, and you grabbed a slice of buttered bread, immediately taking a bite out of it. The sooner you could leave the table, the better.

Father grabbed nothing. He simply watched the both of you, the same smile from before still plastered on his face.

It was only now that you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. You could also see he was still wearing the same work clothes from yesterday. You don't think he slept a wink.

After a tense, quiet moment of watching the both of you eat, he turned towards your brother and began to speak.

"Cillian, my boy, are you still going into town today?"

He avoided his gaze as he replied.

"Yes, sir. I can't afford to skip any lessons."

"But you're already late. Surely, you couldn't do any more harm by skipping today?"

"I can't, sir. It would be disrespectful to miss an entire day without reason."

"I expected as much. I suppose it can't be helped."

Father gave a thoughtful hum before turning towards you.

"Well, I guess that leaves you, then."

You froze as your heart rate picked up. You briefly caught Cillians eyes, and saw your own panic reflected back.

Father continued on, like he hadn't noticed.

"I need to ask a favor of you. Your mother has been getting worse, as the both of you seem to know already."

He pointedly shot your brother a look before returning his gaze to you.

"And she needs her rest. Unfortunately, she does not want to rest. That's why I've taken it upon myself to make sure she does."

He gestured over towards the door of the room Mother lay, and you saw the missing chair propped up securely against the knob.

"All you need to do is make sure she stays inside. Don't let her out for anything. Not for food, or water, or even the bathroom. No matter what she says or does, you do not open that door."

He then reached out and placed a large, cold, and loose hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shake it off.

"Am I understood?"

You nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father."

His smile grew wider and he gave your shoulder a pat before retracting his arm.

"Good. Because if she isn't in there when I come back, I will be very disappointed."

With that, he slapped his legs before pushing himself off the chair.

"Well, I'd best be off now. Take care, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, and headed out the door.

After the sound of his footsteps subsided, you quietly got up and headed towards your parents' door.

Your hand had only come to touch the chair before Cillian grabbed you and pulled you away.

You wrestled out of his grip and turned to face him before his hands landed on your shoulders as he gave you a slight shake, his hands warm and unmovable.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"What do you think you're doing?" You countered.

"Keeping you from making a mistake. Did you not listen to Father at all?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm doing it. You know this can't be right, Cillian, he can't keep her locked up."

"Of course this is awful, that isn't the point." He spat out.

You recoiled as far back as his hold would allow.

That seemed to make him pause he decided to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his features softening a touch. His voice was less harsh, but just as urgent as he spoke again.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this. I don't, either. But we don't have a choice here. With Father becoming more... unpredictable, it's better to play along with whatever he wants. Just until I can save enough money to get us out of here, okay?"

"But what about Mother?"

"I don't care about Mother, I care about you. Your safety goes above everything else."

You turn away, your eyes growing wet.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to listen."

You wipe your eyes. He lets out a sigh and loosens his grip.

"Why don't you stay out of the house for today? Focus on tending to the sheep and chickens, or tend to the garden, or whatever you want. It'll be easier on you if you don't have to hear her, okay?"

You didn't move.

"(Y/N), please, look at me." He said quietly.

Against your better judgment, you did.

His face was fallen, his eyes starting to water like yours were. An unwilling feeling of guilt formed in your heart.

"Promise me you won't let Mother out." He pleaded.

You nodded, even though the thought of going along this made you sick.

He gave you a genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Cillian left soon after, and you tittered about in the house, trying to keep yourself busy. You thought about going outside the house and focusing on taking care of the animals like he suggested, but your guilt wouldn't allow you to leave Mother.

You had quickly come to regret that decision as not even an hour after Cillians departure, Mother tried to open the door.

Simple attempts at opening the door had rapidly grown more frantic until she was pounding on the wood. The sound encompassed the whole house, and you could only stand and stare like a trapped animal, torn between your duty to your mother and your duty to your brother.

And then she stopped.

And the whole house was quiet.

For some reason, you found the silence profoundly more disturbing than her hysterical attempts to break the door, and you half longed to hear them again.

As you debated calling out to her, the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering.

The only glass in the room was her window.

You rushed out of the front door and ran around the side of the house to where the window was, only to see her exiting through where the glass used to be. He dress was torn, and her arms and legs were covered in minor cuts that dotted her in red.

"Mother!" You shout. "Are you okay-"

She turned towards you, came to an abrupt halt, and stared.

Her dark, dead eyes bore into you, leaving a weight on your chest you had never felt before. She knows, you thought. You didn't know what she knew or if there was anything to know, but it was the only thought in your head as she looked at you. She knows. And it made you wither before her.

She turned away and headed towards the tool shed. You followed her at a distance.

She emerged from the shed with a shovel and walked towards a small group of trees, of which she stopped in front of the old, brittle husk of what used to be a mighty oak.

And she started to dig.

It was obvious she was struggling. She had done little manual labor in her life, mostly content with wasting away in her room most days, so she had little muscle. She huffed and puffed, and even as far away as you were, you could see her arms shake with every shovel full of dirt. A foot into the ground, and you could see her hands start to bleed, the delicate skin tearing against the rough wood of the shovel.

But her face had stayed just as determined as it had been when she started, and her pace never slowed. As you watched, you could swear that not even hell could stop her.

You stood there and watched her toil knee-deep in the dirt, wondering what could drive such a woman to go to these lengths when you heard the sound of metal hitting metal.

With frantic movements, she began to shovel faster, then abandoned the tool altogether and desperately clawed at the dirt with her fingers.

Then she began to pull.

One tug. Then another. And another.

And then one final tug, and it was free. She staggered back, a metal box as big as her chest held firmly in her hands.

She wasted no time throwing it to the ground and undoing the latches that held it closed.

She took out something and stared at it for a moment before carelessly tossing it to the side. Out of her grasp, you could see it was a fur of some sort. Though you couldn't tell what animal it belonged to, you could see that it was rather plain looking, definitely not worth burying like it was some valuable treasure.

Yet why did it seem to tug at your heart, trying to draw you closer?

Your attention was torn from the fur as the sound of crying filled the air.

It came from Mother, now hunched over a larger, more beautiful fur, her face buried deep as he let out more heart-wrenching sobs. It was the most emotion you've ever seen from her.

You felt like a voyeur. This moment wasn't for you, yet you couldn't leave, transfixed by such both the fur and Mother.

It took moments for the crying to subside, at which point she slowly got to her legs, and she draped the fur over her shoulders like an oversized shawl.

It was like this you could see it better. It was white, and the fur sparkled in the sun like a jewel. It was also obvious that this was the fur of an adult seal.

Her head turned towards you, and you held her gaze, only for a moment, before she turned away and walked towards the direction of the sea.

As she made her past the horizon and beyond your line of sight, she didn't once turn back to look at you.

And you were glad she didn't.

You didn't know how long you spent watching her leave. Even after she disappeared from your sight, you still watched the last spot you saw her. You knew she wouldn't come back, and you hoped she wouldn't either, but that didn't stop the expectancy from growing inside you. There was more coming, and you just didn't know what it was or where it would come from.

Eventually, your mind snapped back to the present, and you became aware of your surroundings again. The sun had climbed quite a ways across the sky, telling you it was afternoon now.

With little else to do, you made your way to the discarded fur.

The closer you got, the more your heart trembled in your chest, and your skin itched in anticipation. It was so similar to the way the sea called to you, but more intense, and completely irresistible.

When you finally knelt down and grasped it, the world melted away along with the fog around your brain, and your mind gained a sense of clarity and sharpness you had never experienced before. And a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over you, like this fur was a long lost part of you, and you were finally, blissfully whole again.

This is what Mother felt when she touched her fur, wasn't it? It must be, because you started to to cry just like she did, face buried in your fur- no, a small voice in your mind said, your lost skin, as you tried to take it all in.

What relief, what clarity, what pain it is to be complete again. Who knew such an immense joy could bring so much hurt?

You only stopped crying when you heard a yell in the distance.

"(Y/N)! WHERE'S YOUR MOTHER?"

It was Fathers voice.

You whip your head to see the figure of your father coming towards you, only to stop as your body twisted towards his, revealing your second skin bundled in your arms.

His shocked expression quickly twisted to something dark, ugly, and angry.

He started walking towards you again, his movements similar to the confident prowl of a wolf coming across a stray lamb, far away from the safety of the herd.

And you felt your heart kick up, exactly like a lamb's would.

Without further thought, you draped your skin across your shoulders like Mother had, scrambled towards your feet, and sprinted away.

Father's heavy footsteps followed.

Past the sheep fields, beyond your property, from well trodden footpaths to completely untamed land, you dashed across the land with your father steady in pursuit, unable to escape his sight.

You didn't realize you were headed towards the ocean until you saw the sand of the beach and the deep blue of the sea.

Logically, you knew that the beach was a dead end. There was nothing there to help you down there, and you couldn't swim. But something inside you urged you forward, saying you would be free, if only you could reach the water, and after everything that happened today, you were inclined to trust it.

As your feet hit the sand, Father began to shout, all threats and insults.

When your skin met the sea, the sharpness in his voice disappeared, replaced with a desperation so unbecoming of a man once to confident.

When you were up to your waist in the salt water, and the rolling waves threatened threatened to knock you off your feet and sweep you out to sea, your father started to plead. To beg you to come out of the water and help him find Mother. He had momentarily lost his temper, he didn't mean to frighten you so. He's not mad any more, he's sorry, and only wishes you could come out and tell him where Mother went. To help him figure out a way to find her and to bring her home. If only you would get out of the water.

You didn't bother to look back.

You dove into the rolling waves, and something fantastical overcame your body.

Your clothes fell away from your body, and your seal skin filled with a strange energy, latching onto your human skin and merging until they were one. Your arms shrunk into flippers with dull claws, and your legs and feet merged into a sleek, powerful tail. Blubber formed around your body and neck, and nestled you in warmth. Your hair receded, and your head shrunk, with your nose and mouth forming the short snout of a seal.

Soon, you were darting through the water, further and further away from the cries of your father, and deeper into the blue.

You swam so far and for so long that when you finally came to the surface to breathe, you could no longer see the shore, with no recollection of which direction you came from. All round you was nothing but a yawning stretch of unbroken blue.

The sun had finally set, transforming the water into the same inky darkness of the sky, and you had still not found your way back to land.

You had tried to head back in the direction you thought you had come from, only to find nothing. So you tried another direction, then another, and another, only to wind up more lost than before.

Frustrated, you had given up for a time and decided to explore what lay under the sea, both in childish curiosity of what the world was like under the water and in foolish hope that you would find your mother, and she could guide you back.

Instead, you found dozens upon dozens of colorful fish and bizarre plants that you could scarcely dream of. You would follow these alien creatures as they scuttled and swam about with a sense of whimsy and awe, captivated by their strangeness. It was the most fun you had in a very long time. If only land could have creatures like this, it would be a much more beautiful place.

But soon, you had lost yourself in your exploration, just like you had lost yourself in the sea. When you finally stopped and resurfaced, the sky and sea had darkened, to the point you could hardly tell which was which.

It was only then you felt the effects of being at sea for so long. Though your blubber did much to keep you warm, the sea was always cold, and a chill had crept deep into your skin. Your stomach gnawed in hunger, and a great weariness started to overtake you. How much longer could you keep swimming?

You grew panicked, head whipping around in despair as you tried to find something, anything to lead you home.

In confusion and fear, you turned your head towards the sky, and it was there you found your answer.

The north star.

It was the first thing your brother had taught you when he took you stargazing. He would still quiz you on it every once in a while, just to make sure you remembered how to find it.

You can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"As long as you can find the north star, you can always find your way home."

A renewed feeling of energy washed over you, filling your weary body with resolve, and you pushed yourself towards home.

On and on, you fought against the choppy waves trying to push against your own struggling body and pull you further into the ocean, with nothing but thoughts of home to push you forward.

But after an unknown amount of time, you came across not the shore, but there, upon the horizon, the silhouette of a man upon a fishing boat, harpoon raised, as sharks circled him... no, those weren't sharks.

They were seals.

And that man you your father.

You abandoned your current course to swim closer, trying to understand what was happening.

As you crept up on the ship, you finally heard Fathers shouting over the rough waves.

"DAMN ANIMALS!" His voice was venom.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW YOU HAVE HER! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

The seals began to nudge the boat, throwing him momentarily off balance. However, he quickly gained his composure.

"MY LOVE, COME BACK TO ME!"

There was no response.

"I'LL DRAG YOU BACK, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, AND I'LL KILL WHATEVER BEAST GETS IN MY WAY!"

He regained his footing and raised his harpoon as if to attack, his face alight with manic anger.

But beyond his sight, you saw a beautiful white seal barrel towards the side of his boat, with no sign of stopping. In a flash, her body collided with the wood, and the ship was overturned, throwing Father into the dark sea before he could scream.

It was only a moment before he resurfaced, harpoon gone, struggling to keep his head above water.

"DON'T, PLEASE-"

A seal broke off from the circling pack, bit down on his leg, and dragged him down, disappearing beneath the surface. You tensed, afraid that the seal hadn't let him go, but he broke through the waves in a manner of seconds, choking on salt water.

He struggled against the current, coughing his lung out as he tried to make his way towards his capsized ship.

Then another seal did the same, taking him underwater but holding him down just a little longer. When Father resurfaced, he began to exclaim in fear, begging for mercy, and then for Mother, before he was dragged back down again into the inky abyss.

And then it happened again.

And again.

You caught sight of the same white seal who had brought this fate upon him. She had positioned herself slightly away from the rest of the herd, content to watch from afar. Perhaps she thought her part over, or perhaps she was merely waiting for her turn again.

Slowly, she turned her head towards you, as if she knew you were here all along.

She didn't say a word as she looked at you, but you knew what she was trying to tell you.

You don't belong here.

And perhaps she was right.

You turned away from the brutality happening in front of you, and found the north star again. With your bearings, you continued your journey home.

When the shore finally came out of the horizon, you could have jumped for joy. You pushed your tired fins to the max, wanting nothing more than to finally return to land.

As you came closer, you could make out the dark figure of another person, frantically walking along the shore line, calling out to the sea.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! IS THAT YOU?!"

It was Cillian.

You felt such a sense of relief upon seeing him, you could cry.

You tried to call out to him, but it only came out in the strange barks of a seal.

He ran towards the water, only stopping as it reached his waist, your abandoned clothes clutched it his hands as he continued to shout your name like a madman.

You pushed and pushed, willing your aching body to go faster and faster until you were upon him. His arms were held wide, and you leaped into them as he caught you with ease.

Then that strange, magical sensation happened again.

Your skin warped and twisted, growing and then separating itself into two, your seal skin wrapping around you like a robe. Your tail and fins turned back into arms and legs, with the rest of your body following suit. All the while, Cillian still held you, red rimmed eyes in awe over what he saw.

And just like that, you were human again.

He took your face in his hands, one cupping your cheek as the other stroked your hair ever so gently. His hands were cold from being out for so long, and they shook slightly, whether from adrenaline or exhaustion, you couldn't tell. Yet you found yourself leaning into them anyway.

His face was red, and his eyes were wet and puffy. His chin wobbled as much as his voice, unable to contain his emotion.

"I thought you were gone. I came home, and you weren't there, and I couldn't find anyone. I looked everywhere, and when I found your clothes, oh God, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would be alone."

His voice broke down into wordless sobs, his hands letting your face go only to wrap you into a crushing embrace. You found yourself beginning to cry with him.

"I'm here now." You told him, your own voice faltering from your tears. "It's okay, I'm here."

His sobbing only picked up, sounding like those rare occasions when he cried as a child.

"Oh, my baby. Thank God, thank God."

You stood there, held fast in his arms, as the ocean waves pushed against the both of you, sapping the warmth out of your body, but you couldn't bother to care. You thought you could stay like that forever, safe and sound in his hold.

But his hold began to loosen, and he looked down at you, face haggard and tired.

"Let's go home."

You nodded and took his hand as he led you out of the sea and towards land. But you felt like your body was made of lead, and you kept stumbling, almost falling back into the water. That's when Cillian decided to pick you up, arms under your knees and back in a princess style hold. You didn't protest, exhaustion leaving you too weak to reasonably object. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder, arms securely holding your second skin around your body, as he took you out of the water.

As you exited the beach, the cold had finally caught up with you, and you began to shiver violently.

Cillian looked down at you, face pinched in concern, before focusing back on the path ahead, picking up his pace.

"I know, I know. We'll be home soon. We'll get you dressed in dry clothes, and I'll get a fire going, and you'll be warm before you know it. Just hang on."

You nodded, pressing yourself further against him, trying to share his body heat.

The journey dragged, the cool night temperatures making your symptoms worse. With each breeze, your shivering would pick up, and he would hold you tighter, as if he could solve the problem by only keeping you closer.

By the time you made it home, your fingers, toes, and nose were numb.

He tried to set you down carefully in front of your room, but his shaking, tired arms had you plopped on the ground more roughly then he intended, leading to him profusely apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You looked up to him and saw the way his fatigue wore on him, from the droopiness of his eyes to the sag of his shoulders and the way his wet clothes hung off of him. You wish he wouldn't apologize so much.

"Change into something warm, and I'll get the fire going, alright?"

You nodded and then went in your room to change, clumsily slipping on your normal nightwear. Still shivering, you then grabbed the blanket off your bed and bundled yourself with it before taking your wet seal skin and walking out of your room.

When you went back to the living room, Cillian was in dry clothes kneeling next to the fireplace, having finished loading the logs into the chimney. With a few strikes of the fire steel, a small fire began to grow on the wood, bringing a welcome heat with it.

You carefully hung up your second skin near the fireplace so it could dry and then sat down next to your brother, watching as he tended to the small flame, making certain it wouldn't go out. After a few minutes of carefully feeding it small, dry branches, it had taken to the bigger logs and grown to a healthy size. With a noise of contentment, he pulled the metal screen over the fireplace opening and leaned back, a drained expression falling on his face as he took a moment to soak in the heat.

Then he turned to you with a small smile.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded, your shivering having gone down some.

"But I'm still cold."

He opened his arms and waved you over. You didn't hesitate to go to them, taking your blanket and wrapping it over his body as well as yours as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his chin rested on your head.

And for a while, no one spoke. You sat snug in his hold, the warmth of the fire, the reassuring weight of his arms, and the steady rise and fall of Cillians chest, you were easily lulled into a state of half consciousness, bringing you a sense of peace.

But then your brothers voice, rough and low, spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

It took you a moment to process the question, mind fuzzy and slow from your exhaustion.

"Father was chasing me. I didn't know where else to go."

"You didn't have to stay gone for so long. You knew I would be home soon."

"I got lost."

With those words, his chest hitched, like he couldn't breathe. You hastily tried to reassure him.

"But when night fell, I used the north star to guide me home, just like you taught me. It all turned out okay in the end."

He shifted, his hold growing tighter.

"Don't you realise how lucky you were? If the sky had been overcast and you couldn't see the stars, what would you have done? How long would you have lasted at sea without its guidance? What if you had swam into a shark, or God forbid, a fisherman..."

His arms grew suffocating, to the point of pain.

"Cillian, please." You whimpered.

His grip immediately loosened, and he looked down on you, apologies spilling from his mouth once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just- it scares me. You scare me. And I hate how frightened you make me. You can't go back there, (Y/N)."

What could you say? You felt guilty about making him so upset, but you couldn't promise to not return to the ocean, either. Yes, your first trip in the water was terrifying, but it was also freeing and beautiful. You wouldn't feel complete without being able to go there again.

You chose to stay silent.

He pressed you gently back into his chest and began softly rocking you, one hand around you and the other carding through your hair.

Eventually, you drifted off, the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle sway of Cillian's hold following you into your dreams.

The next thing you know, you're swaddled in your bed, sunshine streaming through your windows.

It takes you a while to get up, the ordeals from yesterday still weighing heavy on your body. But eventually, hunger pangs form in your stomach, and you force yourself to leave the safety of the blankets to get food.

With your blanket wrapped around your body like a cloak, you slowly shuffle out of your room and towards the kitchen. You dully make note of how high the sun is, meaning you had slept well into the afternoon. You hope Cillian let the animals out before he left.

Once in the kitchen, you cut a slice of bread and stand there, chewing on it slowly, eyes half lidded as not one thought crosses your mind.

Then it hits you, a delayed wave of dread washing over you.

Your skin.

You had left it near the fireplace, right? You were fairly certain of it being wet, and you had wanted it to dry. Therefore, near the fireplace was the most logical place.

Uncertainly, you take the few steps it takes to get to the living room, and can find no sign of it.

But you remember putting it here. At least, you think you remember.

It occurs to you that, upon separation from your skin, that mental acuity you had gained from it was now lost once again, and your brain fog has rolled back in with a vengeance.

You look around the fireplace, turning over baskets and boxes and whatever gets in your way, before expanding your search to the living room, then the kitchen, then your room. You even dared to look through your parents' room and Cillians room for no other excuse than your rising panic at not being able to find that vital, beloved part of yourself.

All higher reason left you as you left your house to trace back your journey from the beach on the wild belief that you could have dropped your skin, despite knowing that it had stayed wrapped around your body the entire time.

The further into your walk, the more the pit in your stomach grew, climbing its way into your throat until you threatened to choke on it, tears leaking from your eyes all the while.

It was only upon not being able to find the skin anywhere on the beach that you collapsed down on the sand, your wailing a companion to the roaring of the waves.

It was there Cillian found poor you, face a red, blotchy mess of snot and tears. He knelt beside you, out of breath from running to find you. He tried his best to calm you down despite looking panicked himself, but you had worked yourself into an unmanageable state.

After a desperate few minutes, you had slowed down just enough to wail out, "I can't find my skin."

His mouth formed a grim line, face becoming unreadable. Without another word, he picked you up and carried you home once more.

You didn't bother fighting it, only continuing to cry until it tapered off to pathetic little whimpers, and then total silence.

You barely registered that you were home, that Cillian had placed you upon the floor, near the dwindling fire where you collapsed. You stared into the small flame, not being able to comprehend anything. The world had become too much, weighing heavy on your mind and body to the point that you didn't have a will to care about much anymore. Except, of course, for one thing.

After an unknown time, Cillian sat down next to you, apple in hand. He made a gesture as if offering you the food, but there was only one response on your lips.

"Do you know where my skin is?"

He turned away from you and faced the fire again, taking a bite of the fruit, and you stared at him as he chewed. Chewed, chewed, chewed, and then swallowed it all down.

He nodded.

"Yes, I know where it is."

You felt your eyes light up, a surge of hope coursing through your body.

"Where is it?!"

He didn't turn to look at you. His face didn't even so much as twitch.

"Cillian, please, where is it? Where's my skin?"

"It's somewhere safe."

"That's isn't an answer." A heat began to form in your voice. "Where is it?"

"What are you going to do with it, when you get it again?"

The question took you off guard, making you sputter for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and leave again?"

Your patience gave way to your anger.

"I didn't leave you, I was trying to run away from our crazy Father, who would have done God knows what to me if he caught me. And I didn't want to be stuck out at sea for hours on end! And I came home, didn't I? I want to be here, why isn't that enough for you?!"

His finally turned towards you, face twisted and sharp.

"You came back this time." He spat. "But what about the next? What's to keep you from deciding to stay in the sea if I can't be there to stop you? Just look at you! A day hasn't even passed, and you're already running back towards that accursed beach."

Heat rose in your cheeks, and your voice rose.

"And so you steal from me? You take a part of myself and hide it from me? How dare you! How dare you do what Father did!"

The veins in his head began to pop up at your words.

"I'm nothing like him, Father was a monster!"

"Then prove it! Give me back my skin!"

He stared at you, eyes wild, huffing like he had just run across the property. You held his gaze, just as angry and stubborn, unwillingly to back down.

He jolted up, then stalked across the floor and exited the house with a slam of the door.

You could only look after him in silence.

After Cillian left, you had slunk off to your bed, not knowing what else to do except to lie down and wait.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep, not even able to find reprieve in your dreams, where you saw your mother taking your skin and running as you desperately tried to catch up to her. But no matter how fast you ran, or how hard you pushed yourself, you fell further and further behind until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you jolted awake with a start, heart racing and eyes wide and unseeing, until a voice called out to you.

"It's okay, (Y/N), it's okay, it's only me, Cillian. Calm down, you're safe."

In a few short seconds, your eyes focused on the figure sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, and it was indeed your brother, face composed in a reassuring smile.

You took in your surroundings, noticing it had gone completely dark, with only a candle placed on your nightstand to offer any light. There was no sign of your skin.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

You slumped back in your bed, and frown easily forming on your face.

"I was." Is your meager reply.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

You look away from him, frown deepening.

He sighed. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Silence.

"The first time you wandered off, trying to return to the beach, Father had taken me aside, and told me a story of a young, lonely fisherman who had come upon a beautiful, naked lady dancing on the beach. The fisherman had become enchanted with this strange woman, believing to have fallen in love at first sight. After having watched her for some time, he came to spot a stark white seal skin near the lady. It was then he figured out that the woman was not a human, but a selkie, a mythical creature with the ability to change their form from seal to human. He knew he had to have her and crept closer and closer, until he was able to snatch the skin away. She pleaded for it's return, offering anything to have it back. He had said he would, but only on the condition she became his wife. She relented, not having another choice. Of course, Father had then revealed that this was the story of how he met Mother."

You sat there, staring at him in shock.

"You knew that Mother and I were selkies, and you said nothing?"

"No, that's not it. I didn't believe a word of what he said, I thought it was the delusions of a sad man trying to find a reason for why his wife was so ill. I didn't start thinking of the story until Mother went visiting the beach, and even then, I wasn't sure until I saw you transform in front of my very eyes."

He sighed once more.

"But that wasn't all. Father had said that though I was human, you were a selkie, and that he had taken your skin as soon as you were born and hidden it away with Mothers. He believed that if you never had the chance to transform, the illness from Mother would lessen, and eventually, you would turn human. I thought he was mad, but now that I am able to think... he was right, wasn't he?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Your illness wasn't as severe as Mothers. You were able to live normally for the most part. Sure, you couldn't always focus, and your mind would wander, but it was getting better, wasn't it? In a few more years, you might have turned human. Unfortunately, Mother stopped that from happening, but it can be done again."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, cold and iron tight, with a sickening smile stretched on his face.

"You'll be rid of this disease, and you can be human, like you were meant to. And I'll be here to take care of you until it happens."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. You could have cried, but all the tears and anger had left you earlier that day, leaving you to mutely stare at your brother, your only family, the only one you trusted, who you thought would protect you from the horrors of the world you lived in, in a complete and all consuming horror you have never felt in your life.

A moment passed, and you managed to find your words once again.

"Cillian." Your voice is quiet. A gentle breeze could drown it out.

"Cillian," you try again, "please. Where is my skin?"

His face falls and shoulders sag in disappointment.

"I know it will take you a long time to adjust, but I promise, this is for the best."

You shake your head, but he only brings you in for a hug, holding you gently as if you would shatter at a moments notice. You have no energy to fight back.

"Please. Give me back my skin."

He only shushes you, rubbing circles into your back as you continue to plead for the only thing that could make you feel whole again. You stay there until your voice goes silent, your body slack, and your eyes shut. Until you fall asleep in the arms of your brother, under the roof of your father, and under the stars that sit unmoving and unforgiving in the darkness of the night sky.

Raising Zeus's child

(stay with me)

Imagine these; (reader is/can be both or neither genders but I will be using female pronouns, please change if wanted)

You are a single, unmarried, person in Greece, everyone else's lives are normal but yours, you didn't have sex with Zeus but you do end up raising his kid, the woman he originally had sex with found out Zeus wasn't gonna stay for her so she just... Didn't keep the baby, I mean, she kept in until it could talk and walk before leaving it...

but luckily, or unfortunately, you stepped in and took her place, though you didn't want kids you couldn't leave him there either so you took him in. At this point he could talk so when you tried to figure out where his parents were he had informated you his father was "that man" and pointed at the statue of Zeus, at first you thought it was cute before slowly realizing the boy... Looked... Like.. a younger... Smaller... Zeus. It clicked and now for your own safety your keeping the child, you raise the child as your own, and doing everything in your power to be seen as good in all the gods' eyes in case they came to get him whenever

"hey little buddy, where your mommy? " --R (reader)

"she weft me " --COZ ( child of Zeus)

" oh no, I'm so sorry... What about daddy? Where's daddy? " --R

" his that man mama keeps telling me... " --COZ

" awe.... Oh my-- " --R

(later)

" buddy!-- hey tiny immortal person, we do not climb trees, no no we do not. You can play with sticks safely, you can play with the leafs, you cannot climb a tree because you can fall, get hurt and no one is happy, hmm, yeah. So please come down and eat some bread, then you can throw leaf's as much as you like " --R

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

Yandere Miguel O’Hara Headcanons

a/n: there are two routes platonic and romantic, which will be bolded and colour-coded like this, please forgive my spanish i am breaking out my high school spanish classes.

tw: yandere themes, possessive, obsessive, and controlling behaviour, potential spoilers, suggestive themes (romantic route), captivity, canonical inaccuracies, implied neglect (platonic route)

•Becoming the hero Arachnid wasn’t something you ever planned on happening. You were just going about your regular, every day life when a radioactive spider bit you. The spider that bit you gave you amazing powers that you utilized to become the amazing, the one and only friendly neighbourhood Arachnid! Then, you were suddenly pulled into another dimension that was almost exactly like yours and discovered that you weren’t the only one of well you after all.

•You, alongside other spider-themed heroes, joined forces against Kingpin in order to return to your home dimensions. However, that wasn’t your last adventure with the multiverse. Your next encounter would occur a few months after your first misadventure. Having finished fighting the Green Goblin, you were ready to end the night there. Then, a portal similar to the one that brought you to Miles’ dimension opened up. Out came a tall, well-muscled Spider-Man and a Spider-Woman

•They introduced themselves as Miguel O’Hara and Jessica Drew and informed of the Spider society they’d formed. You were offered membership by them. Well, by Jessica. Miguel was staying silent. You don’t know why, but you felt as though he was watching you. He was, of course, he was right in front of you, but this felt eerie. Your senses were telling you something was wrong but Jessica was so nice and you really were excited and honoured to be given such an opportunity. So, you take it.

Romantic Route:

•Miguel stared at you intently. He’d been watching you for a while now, observing. You resemblance was uncanny— you looked exactly like his spouse. Not his spouse exactly, but the one the other had. You looked like the partner that Miguel had grown to love alongside his daughter. A variant of them. Although he was initially against you joining, it would be easier to watch you— look out for you if you joined the lobby.

•After your acceptance, Miguel tasked Jessica with guiding you around the lobby. He didn’t trust anyone else and he couldn’t bare to do it himself. He couldn’t handle himself around you. It wasn’t just your appearance that was uncanny, it was everything. You mannerisms, habits, likes, interests, everything. How Miguel yearned for you. Yearned to feel your touch, your kiss. Yearned for the happiness he once knew.

•But that would break the canon, wouldn’t it? The memories of his world, his family fading from existence because he broke the canon. He couldn’t let that happen again. So, he behaved coldly towards you. But as Miguel continued to watch you and interact with you, he started to doubt. You were a variant of his partner, but your dimension didn’t have a variant of Miguel O’Hara. Perhaps, he rationalized, this was canon. Your fates were meant to be intertwined. He needed you and you needed him. That was canon.

•Miguel strikes when you least expect. Spends weeks carefully planning. He stalks you, memorizes your routine to a point. He assigns you a mission, not overly-difficult but not easy. Something to tire you out. With your senses dulled and the weariness from the fight left you susceptible to his attack. Quickly, stealthily and by surprise, he subdued you. His sharp fangs biting into the tender skin of your neck, paralyzing you.

•When you come to, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Yet there are familiar objects lying around; trinkets and photos that had disappeared. Your spidey-senses were going off the rails and that’s when he came.

“Miguel?”

•He tells you you’re here for your safety and for the safety of your dimension. Swears you’re meant to be with him, that it’s canon. Warns you of the consequences if you break the canon. You stare at him, intaking his audacity. Then, you shriek at him. Call him out on his absolute bull. Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He ignores your screeching and leaves. Obviously, you’re still in shock. You’ll come around.

•Almost a month later, lo and behold, you still haven’t come around to being pliant with your captor. Miguel is a man of many things, but patience is not one. He is so very tired, having to deal with Lyla’s teasing and the other Spider’s bullshit. Is it too much to ask to come home to his loving spouse? Just like he used to.

•Apparently, it is. Seeing as you aren’t his spouse, but someone he locked up, you scream at him. Unholy screeches whenever you see him. Today, Miguel’s had enough. Large hands wrap around you and slam you against the headboard of the bed you’re chained too.

“Enough.” He hisses. “¡Mierda! I won’t hear it. ¿Me entienden? You stay here. If the safety of the multiverse won’t convince then maybe the safety of your aunt will.”

•The moment the vague threat passes over you freeze entirely. You’ve lost almost everyone, everyone but her. Carefully, you suck in air. Large tears brim at the edges of your eyes. as you look Miguel directly in the eyes. His eyes, dark and dangerous, bore back into yours.

“Please Miguel,” you whisper. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry. Don’t hurt her.”

•Miguel softens at your submission. However, he still doesn’t trust you. He pulls himself off you and stalks out, leaving you laying on the bed, dazed. From that day forewords, you become more compliant. You listen to Miguel and don’t fight him. Miguel knows that he can’t keep you locked away forever. People were asking questions. With your ‘good’ behaviour, you’ll be granted more privileges. More freedom, if that’s what you can call it. You’ll never truly be free, trapped under Miguel’s watchful eyes. But you’re able to go into the lobby again. To talk with people, even if you do so bearing Miguel’s marks. You know you can’t escape him, not when he could take away the little you had left, not when he would hunt you down through every universe. For now, you know you can’t escape Miguel’s grip.

Platonic Route:

•When Miguel saw you for the first time, he felt the world stop around him. It was as though there was nobody else but you and him. You, who was the only variant of his dead child that wasn’t truly his. He watched as you swung around, mocking villains and making clever quips. Miguel’s heart ached for you, for himself, for his dead daughter and child. As he watched you, memories of holding his child as they died because of him resurface. Once more, does Miguel feel the bitter sting of grief and loss.

•Oh, how Miguel desires to hold you, to cradle you close and never let go. But he can’t, he won’t. You’re not his child. You’re not the child he failed to protect. No, you’re a child he can protect. Thus, his decision to allow you to join the spider-society, if only to watch over you and protect you. Your family clearly isn’t doing a good job at it. Miguel spends more time than necessary looking after you. Not that he meant to, of course. You were just so vulnerable. You needed guidance. You may have been s superhero but you were also a child.

•Under Miguel’s guidance you thrive. He teaches you proper fighting techniques, improves your web-shooters and other tech you have and acts as the father figure you need. His teaching method is firm yet gentle. Miguel remains stern, however, everyone notices how soft he is with you. Life is good in the lobby. To be honest, sometimes you consider staying forever. Or more accurately, Miguel implies you should.

•Yes, he was originally not going to interfere. But it was you who made the decision to stay, so obviously that meant something. And Miguel wouldn’t lie, whenever you returned to your Earth to fulfill your duties as Arachnid, he could barely think he was so worried. Every villain encounter, every scrape and bruise is another chance to fail to protect his child. Miguel gets more desperate over time. Your time in the lobby is almost exclusively spent with him. Every mission is with him, every meal is with him, almost every moment is spent by Miguel’s side. And honestly? You’re starting to get s little sick of it.

•Not that you were complaining. You’re so grateful for the opportunities Miguel gave you, but he’s so overbearing. Maybe it’s normal, you rationalize, you’re family isn’t very close. Besides, you’ve seen Peter B. Parker with Mayday. Even Miguel isn’t that clingy. Your senses are blaring danger and to get away, but your yearning for love and affection suppress them. You continue to push down your instincts until you can’t. Until you decide to listen to your doubts— only to prove them wrong, of course. However, just your luck, your instincts are proven correct. You discover a goddamn tracker implanted in your arm.

•Finally, everything clicks. Everything Miguel does? Not normal! Just creepy, especially this. Thus, you decide to leave. You dig out your tracker and stitch the wound back up. You leave the tracker where you know Miguel will find it and leave, discarding your portal bracelet. You return to your Earth for the final time, intent on never leaving again.

•When Miguel returns to find your tracker and no trace of you, he goes ballistic. You left, he can’t protect you. You’ll get hurt, you’ll die. Miguel can’t risk losing you. He travels to your Earth in search of you. There, he tracks you down to find you losing badly against the Green Goblin. You’re clutch your ribs, bruised and bloody. The moment he sees you like this, Miguel enters a blazing fury. He attacks the Goblin viciously, pounding him until a sickening crunch is heard and the Goblin’s neck snaps. You collapse, from your injuries and the shock of witnessing Miguel kill the Goblin.

•Your chest seizes, hyperventilating. You can hear your heart beat racing as Miguel turns to you. He watches you panic and slowly paces towards you. You attempt to scoot away, but you can barely move. Miguel’s mask is off. You can see his eyes being filled with the same eerie softness as the day you met. Carefully, he leans down and large hands grasp onto you. You struggle as best you can, squirming despite the pain.

“¡Ay! Cariño.” He admonishes gently. “Be still, you’ll hurt yourself.”

•Regardless of his orders, you continue to squirm. Sighing, Miguel extended his fangs and bit down on your neck. Paralyzed, you fall limp in his arms. Carefully, he maneuvers you so to not hurt you. He cradles you to his chest as he inspects you over.

“We’ll get you checked out when we go to your new room. ¿Estàts bien?”

•Unable to do anything, you lay helpless in Miguel’s arms as he takes you to your new fancy prison cell— or room as he calls it. From there, you’ll be safe. Somewhere only Miguel knows, a place he can be certain he can protect you. Yes, you’ll stay locked away in your gilded cage, guarded by Miguel. Safe from the world, from every threat but him.

May I make a request for Muichiro?

General Yandere Muichiro Headcanons

a/n: reader is the same age as Muichiro in this, can be read as platonic or romantic

tw: yandere themes, overprotective behaviour, potential spoilers for Muichiro’s backstory

•Muichiro, despite his young age, has many impressive feats. Being the youngest member of the Hashira has gained him notoriety— though most of his notoriety stems from his apathy.

•His blunt and air-headed nature often scares people off. He doesn’t mind or care. But then, there was you. A seemingly constance in his life. Originally, Muichiro didn’t care for or about you. Especially when you were so beneath him. You were a lowly Kanoe while he was a Hashira. Regardless, you seemed determined to remain by his side and he didn’t care enough to stop you.

•Eventually, he becomes accustomed to your prescription in his life. You’re something to remember- something Muichiro lacks. While his demeanour doesn’t change outright, there are subtle differences that indicate his attachment to you. He acts more considerate towards you than others and tolerates your behaviour that he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else.

•His feelings become more obvious after he regains his memories. Once he remembers the loss of his parents and brothers, Muichiro develops overly protective tendencies. The loss of his family burns fresh through his memory and influences his treatment of you. He doesn’t want to even imagine losing you. Also, similar to his treatment of Tanjiro, Muichiro openly begins to display his affection and bias towards you.

•Overall, Muichiro is a very lax yandere. He isn’t doesn’t meddle with your daily life or your relationships with other. He also doesn’t limit your freedom, at least until he regains his memories. Even then, Muichiro only really prevents you from going on really dangerous missions, or will accompany you if you do go.

Yandere Deku ( or the dilf himself Aizawa) difference between Platonic and Romantic

tw: yandere themes, punishments, dark themes, slight spoilers, mentions of stabbing

Romantic Yandere Deku is more intense than Platonic Yandere Deku. If he’s romantically involved with you, then Deku is very in your face type of yandere. He’s far more clingy and nervous.

I imagine that he would fall for a kinder darling, most likely due to all the bullying he’s endured for being quirkless. Especially if they stood up for him. Romantic Yandere Deku is also less lenient than Platonic Yandere Deku, though both are pretty laid back in yandere terms. This is based of Canon Deku though, so it’d be quite different if he were a villain.

Romantic Yandere Villain!Deku is an actual menace. He’s far more possessive and controlling, having been twisted with the cruelty of the world. He doesn’t have a specific type, it’ll depend on the circumstances he meets you. Know if you met before he turned into a villain, then, again, kind darling. Or maybe you tormented Villain!Deku alongside Bakugou. Villain!Deku is the way he is because of you, all these crimes he’s committed are your fault. You should be held accountable. In a scenario like that then he’d be far more cruel. As for punishments, they would be far harsher, remember Mafia Boss!Sukuna? Yeah.

If you met him after he became a villain then you’d most likely be a hero, one who fights against him and has a distinct personality. There are plenty of self-righteous do-gooders, yet you’d stick out. Maybe you’re a true hero, a little underrated, but you’re not in it for money or glory, you just want to save people. Or, you’re a rogue vigilante, troubled by a dark past, a kindred soul if you will. If Villain!Deku were to fall for a civilian darling, then you’d probably take on another “heroic” role like a nurse of police officer. Regardless, Villain!Deku is fascinated by you, and he wants you all for himself. You can be certain that one Romantic Yandere Villain!Deku gets his hands on you, he won’t let go.

Now Platonic Yandere Villain!Deku? That’s a wild card. He’s certainly softer than Romantic Yandere Villain!Deku. In terms of what type of darling, it’s irrelevant. It doesn’t matter who you were before, you’re either his now. Punishments aren’t physical, Villain!Deku would never. It’s more manipulation tactics, isolation and all that. Anything to drive you into his arms. Villain!Deku will also spoil his platonic darling more.

Now, for the difference between Romantic Yandere Aizawa and Platonic Yandere Aizawa is more subtle. Romantic Yandere Aizawa is still more protective than possessive. However, Romantic Yandere Aizawa is also more harsh. His tolerance towards your disobedience is far less than it would be with a platonic darling. I don’t feel like he’d have a type of darling, though he might be more inclined to fall in love with a childhood friend of his. Aizawa would also be more inclined to kidnap his romantic darling. He’d be far more restrictive and controlling as well.

Platonic Yandere Aizawa is softer and more clingy with his darling. You’re the light of his life, his darling, sweet angel. I mean, he knows that you can do wrong, but he kind of ignores it. You could stab someone in front of him and he’ll literally be getting rid of the evidence while cooing at you. The one thing that will set him off is you being hurt, Aizawa’s lost so much he won’t lose you too.

Pride Month Special- How Yandere Parents React To You Coming Out

a/n: happy pride month everyone!

tw: coming out, implied/mentioned homophobia

Gojo- This giant absolute menace of a man I swear to god, you don’t have to worry about him being supportive or anything like that, no. What you have to worry about is how over the top he goes. Man’s organizing parades, making banners, literally everything. It doesn’t matter how many times you beg him to stop because he’s embarrassing you, you’re his baby and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t show his unconditional support and love. He’s definitely telling everyone too, if you’re out that is, just won’t shut the hell up. Nanami cannot count the amount of times Gojo has gushed about you and how proud he is of you. Of course you’re dying of embarrassment in the corner, but he’s doing this all out of love for you.

Sukuna- He’s definitely a little confused. Not in a bad way or anything, he just doesn’t understand immediately. You’ll have to take the time to explain it to him but once he gets it he’ll be so supportive, but more subtle about it. He won’t be throwing over the top parades or anything like that, but he will 500% find a way to mention in it in all his conversations. Like he’ll be doing curse king shit or something and then one of his vassals will start talking about the most irrelevant topic in regards to your sexuality. But those that stop Sukuna from worming in how his precious child is queer and how amazing they are? Nope! He’ll talk about it for hours then make it seem like the vassal has committed some sort of deadly crime when they try to change the conversation back to the original topic. It’s even better if he finds out with reader who’s reincarnated into Yuji’s older sibling because they’re in their twenties and have been out for a couple of years now, so it’s not a big thing and probably comes up in casual conversation. Sukuna’s gonna rupture poor Yuji’s eardrum because he yelled so loud. He was utterly shocked, he was fine with your identity, but how could you not tell him?? And your poor brother is gonna have to deal with all of Sukuna’s tantrums about you not telling him whenever you walk into the room. Eventually he mellows out though, he’ll deal with your lie by omission once he has you in his grasp again.

Oberyn Martell + Ellaria Sand- Original bi disaster couple, no one can convince me otherwise. Anyways both are pretty chill with it, I mean they probably knew already, they’re very supportive of course! Your siblings, the sand snakes, are too. Dorne is a very free and modern country in terms of opinions, not to mention you’re a child of a prince so you enjoy a lot more freedom to express yourself than others. And if someone does have a problem with, they best keep it to themselves or else they’ll have a furious red viper and his equally enraged sand snakes after them.

Levi Ackerman- He’s quite mild about it, to be honest. He’s not unsupportive, just quite about it. Not out of shame but just that he’s generally closed-off. Also, he believes that you should be able to share your identity based on your own terms. He’s very happy that you felt comfortable enough to share it with him though. He definitely made you tea when you came out too. Of course if he hears anything about anyone having a problem with it, well let’s just say that you will be the least of their problems from then on.

Tengen + His Wives- They’re all so happy! Especially since you trusted them enough to tell them. Tengen definitely brags about his flamboyant kid and how spectacular they are. He buys you and himself a ton of pride shit, I don’t care that demon slayer takes place in the Taishou period, this man will make custom pride merch, just for you. Suma cries as per usual, I headcanon all of them as queer but Suma is canonically bi! So, I imagine her crying tears of happiness and joy that you’re like her in a way and that she understands. Makio is aggressively supportive, like shove it down your throat kind of supportive but supportive nonetheless. Hinatsuru is pretty calm about it, she just wants you to know that she loves you unconditionally.

Muzan- He’s kind of like Sukuna in a way, as in he’s confused. Unlike Sukuna he probably understands what it means he’s mostly confused on how he didn’t know immediately. He is supportive though! And if his confusion hurts you, he’ll immediately apologize. You’re his sweet child, no matter how old you really are, so he’ll support and love you regardless of anything. After he’s done apologizing and you forgive him, you can guilt him into doing pretty much anything for you, which you probably could do just with a hug and puppy dog eyes! If there’s one thing Muzan won’t tolerate, it’s people slighting you, so you can guarantee that you won’t be receiving anything less than the highest praises from everyone.

Light Yagami + Misa Amane- They’re both completely supportive of you, though they show it in different ways. Misa is over the top enthusiastic about it. She starts doing LGBTQ+ campaigns, wearing pride merch, signing brand deals promoting it, basically everything and anything she can to prove she is the greatest ally in the entire world, all for you. Light is subtler in his approach. He’s happy thar you’re happy and that’s pretty much it. He’ll do little things to support you, such as boycott homophobic brands and celebrities, wear small pride pins and all that. Either way, they both support you unconditionally. And if anyone says anything to you, you can bet their getting the most painful and humiliating death possible.

Erasermic- Oh! They’ve been expecting this forever! Aizawa has probably known since the start and subtlety let Hizashi in on it, who was extremely excited. They support you and make sure to reassure you about that every day. They’re like Light and Misa in the aspect that Aizawa is very calm regarding your identity while Hizashi supports you with over the top gestures. You know they love you though, and are grateful for them.

You write really well! I have a question thoughts on platonic yandere nighteye as your dad?

Thank you for the compliment! I’m thrilled that you like my content and find it well-written.

As for yandad Nighteye, I think he’s definitely one of the more controlling yanderes in the BNHA-verse. He keeps tabs on you at all times, he has the resources to do so. Not to mention his quirk granting him the gift of foresight which he constantly uses on you. Even though he is strict, yandad Nighteye has a soft spot for you. You’re his pride and joy. Pictures of you and your accomplishments, drawings, trophies, medals, ribbons, crudely made macaroni art— you name it, ha hangs them up in his office, sweltering with pride when he looks at them. Nighteye also has quite a bit of money, so he does gift you expensive things often.

Included in the yandad Nighteye pack comes yandere grandpa or maybe uncle All Might. Either way, the symbol of peace adores you, constantly spoiling you with gifts and giving you piggyback rides to show his affection. Eventually, when they part ways, yandad Nighteye tries to block All Might from keeping contact with you, afraid for both him and how his destruction would devastate you. Try as he might, nothing will stand in All Might’s way in terms of you.

Yandere Platonic Ryukyu with Quirkless Child Reader

a/n: for @k1ngm1nt

tw: yandere themes, child neglect, child abuse, reader is like seven, canon-typical quirk-based discrimination and mistreatment, bullying, social services, maybe a little ooc

•As long as you’ve been alive you’ve dreamed of being a hero. You’d always play games of heroes and villains with your friends, pretending to have powerful quirks. But all of your dreams were shattered when you were told you were quirkless. You were devastated, as were your parents. They tried everything they could to “cure” you of your supposed disease. Yet all your parents accomplished was furthering your newly found self-loathing. Eventually, as a year or two passed, your parents gave up, not only on trying to manifest your quirk but on you as well. You were miserable, living with neglectful parents and constantly being bullied about your quirklessness.

•However, you found solace in heroes, watching their courageous exploits. In particular, the dragoon hero, Ryukyu, also known as Ryuko Tatsuma. She was your absolute favourite hero, you thought her quirk was amazing. But you would never be like her, or any hero, whispered a cruel voice in your head every time you felt an ounce of joy, forgetting your plight. And every time, you would be reduced to tears that everyone would either make fun of you for or ignore you with disdain in their hearts. Your situation made you become a mature child, handling things on your own. You knew that everyone regarded you as a burden, but you wanted to prove them wrong.

•Then one day, while you were walking home by yourself, a villain attacked. People were scattering in all directions, pushing and shoving in their desperation to find safety. Nobody paid mind to you as you were trampled over, then shoved into the reach of the villain. The villain noticed you immediately, and grabbed you. Cackling madly, he gleefully said that you’d be the first to go. Tears welled up in your eyes, but then a large dragon-shaped creature emerged, Ryukyu! You gasped in amazement, forgetting your fear. The villain stupidly let you go, opting for a greater kill of a Pro-Hero. You watched excitedly as your favourite hero took down the villain. Immediately after she won, people clapped and cheered for their saviour. However, she didn’t pay any attention to them, Ryuko’s mind was more occupied with the little child trembling.

•Ryuko made her way over to you, asking if you were okay. Still stunned silent, you nodded as a smile grew on your face. Ryuko felt her heartstrings being tugged. You were such a sweet and adorable child. Yet something felt off, not you but your situation. Where were your family? Usually someone related to a child would come running up, frantically searching for them. But nobody had come for you. Concerned, she inquired where your family was. Then, Ryuko saw your face fall as you explained that your mom and dad didn’t like you anymore because you didn’t have a quirk.

•Feeling her heart drop, Ryuko decided that she couldn’t stand by idly as you suffered. She walked you home, shocking your parents when they saw the pro-hero at their door. Ryuko calmly greeted them, although rage was boiling inside her. Your parents made fools of themselves stammering and trying to act as though you’d been missing. Ryuko maintained a polite smile throughout their entire performance. When they finished, she bid you goodbye. A small sense of amusement and fondness formed in her chest seeing your wide grin as you waved bye. Immediately after your house was out of sight, Ryuko made a quick call to one of her contacts in social services. Relief swelled-up inside her after she was finished, you would be safe soon.

•However, Ryuko’s work wasn’t done yet. She had to be sure you’d be alright until your parents were arrested. She came to pick you up after school, surprising both you and the kids that bullied you. They immediately ran up to her, starting to ask questions and squeal praises as your teacher tried to calm everyone. Ryuko shocked them further when she announced she was here for you. Gently, she outstretched your hand which you happily took. This started a routine of her dropping you off and picking you up from school. Your parents let her do as she pleased because they thought you were finally worth something now that’d you made friends with the pro-hero. You loved spending time with your favourite hero, Ryuko allowed you to be informal with her and took you on fun outings like to an amusement park or restaurant. Sometimes there would be someone who asked questions about your parents, but Ryuko always took you out for a movie after so it was fine.

•Soon, a case was built against your parents and finally, it was the time to act. Your parents were arrested and charged, while you were thrown into confusion, sobbing for them. Ryuko pitied your sadness but this was for the better. Still, you would go into foster care which could be just as bad, of not worse. Ryuko couldn’t condemn you to that, not after you’d been through. So, she decided to adopt you. She could do it quite easily as a high ranking pro-hero with a good reputation. And so it was done, you became her child. You were hesitant at first, but you quickly, and quite happily, accepted her as your new mother. The kids at school stopped picking on you and your teachers started behaving more formally. After all, you were the child of a pro-hero, Ryuko’s child and you would live a life filled with happiness, Ryuko swears it.

Who is your favorite character to write for?

tw: yandere themes, very brief references to sexual themes, potential spoilers(?)

As of now it’s Douma. I’ve written him as both a platonic and romantic yandere, which got deleted, and I absolutely love writing him. The funny thing is he’s my least favourite character in the KNY-verse. Like, I utterly despise him, all I feel for him is pure hatred.

The main difference I see between platonic and romantic yandere behaviour is that platonic yanderes is the lack of attraction and desire for you in general. They want the things that you give them such as love or loyalty, they want to protect that and protect you. But romantic yanderes want to have you, own you, inflict whatever that pleasures them onto you. So generally, romantic yanderes are more harsher than platonic. Most importantly, platonic yanderes don’t want to break their darlings, they do not want them to become mindless creatures, and while there are romantic yanderes that don’t wang this as well, they tend to let it happen more than

And that’s where Douma comes in. Characters like Douma, that are emotionless, don’t have that difference in their views. Their darling is the one who gave them emotions, so your basically an extension of what they’re feeling. Although they do kind of differ the treatment.

For Douma the only difference is that there is no s***al gratification he gets from his treatment for a platonic darling, so it isn’t really done for pleasure I guess. More-so for peace of mind when it comes to his treatment of you. It basically cements your dependency on him, in his mind.

Can I please request headcanons for platonic Yandere Douma for a human child

Yandere Platonic Douma

a/n: I’m so sorry about the delay in my posting, I had some family stuff to take care of, but thank you all for supporting me and the content I have out!

tw: yandere themes, implied abandonment/neglect, cult themes, reader is kinda insulted by Douma, but not really, implied murder, cannibalism, Douma is his own warning tbh, reader tries to pull a Kotoha

•You met Douma on a cold winter night with a harsh storm blowing through the air. The Upper Kizuki had been out, hunting for a meal. That’s when he happened upon the body of a young child, seemingly frozen to death. Oh, how pitiful! The child had to die in such cruel and uncaring manner. Douma would have left if you didn’t make a sudden motion. Swiftly, Douma turned his gaze towards you. You were still alive? That peaked his interest. Such strength in such a puny little thing. How amusing!

•Even though Douma can’t feel true emotions, he can express small things such as admiration. And admire you he does- you’re such a tenacious little thing. You’d grow to become quite useful if given the proper care. Perhaps he could turn you into a demon to serve his master. If you were this strong as a young human, you’d be even stronger as a demon. Maybe even becoming an Upper Moon like himself!

•Douma then took you to his cult where he ordered the cult members to look after you. You remained in a coma for a few days, and then you finally woke up. Confused and scared, you started to panic. Where were you? What were you doing here? And more importantly— who were you? You began to thrash around at the cult members who were assigned to take care of you. Hearing the commotion, Douma went to the room you were kept. The moment he stepped in the room you fell still. Even though you were young, you could feel the intimidating presence behind his smiling face.

•Douma walked over to you and greeted you with false sweetness. You shrunk into yourself, avoiding his gaze. Douma noticing your shyness, found it adorable. Who wouldn’t though? You were so tiny, hiding in the soft sleep kimono you were wearing. Douma decided then and there to keep you by his side. Kind of like Kotoha’s situation, except he wanted to turn you into a demon. Plus, he’s always been fond of children, so this isn’t that unusual. Douma began to quiz you, unsurely, you answered his questions which allowed him to discover your amnesia. That was convenient, you were a blank slate. Someone who he could mold however he wanted.

•Thus, your life at the cult started. The cult members were instructed to treat you well, and they did. Your new life— not that you could remember your old one- was pleasant. All your needs were met, you’d never go hungry or thirsty, you were comfortable. But life there was also strange. You had ‘lessons’ in which you were taught about your apparent saviour, Douma. You were told that he was your life, your entire being belonged to him, and you must obey him. You didn’t really like those lessons, but you did enjoy one thing. Your training in the art of tessenjustu, overseen by a skilled member of the cult. Within, two months time, you grew accustomed to your routine, excelling in both your studies and training. Douma became intrigued with your fast improvement and decided to oversee your training himself.

•That day you’d woken up like normal, eaten breakfast, attended your morning lessons, eaten lunch, and attended your afternoon lessons. And then finally, you would go to your tessenjustu training. However, your excitement faded when you saw him, Lord Douma himself, standing in place of your usual teacher. Swiftly, you fell into a bow. His overly-false friendly attitude still unnerved you. Despite this, you maintained a cool face and behaved politely. The question of his purpose for being here danced on your tongue, but you withheld it. As if he sensed your inquiry, Douma explained that he would be training you as of now. Your eyes widened slightly in shock, then you quickly returned your face to its neutral expression. Douma noted your shock, allowing an uncertain silence to wash over you until he ordered you to attack him. You froze in surprise, he surely couldn’t expect to to attack him! Oh but he did, he then ‘asked’ you to demonstrate your abilities. Although, you both knew it wasn’t actually a request so much as it was a demand. You took a deep breath and got into the proper stance. Then, you launched your attack. You couldn’t penetrate his defence but you were quite good for a novice. Your moves were quickly, with some precision. Just not a lot of strength behind them. The session ended when you were doubled over, panting, trying to regain your energy. Douma was unharmed, the unnerving smile remained painted on his face. Normally, people would have felt ashamed or embarrassed, but you didn’t. Instead, you thanked him for the lesson and left. Your reaction interested Douma, who would train with you every five to eight days when he had time.

•Douma and your training sessions not only raised your skill level, but formed a bond between you two as student and teacher. You began to respect him, not worship him like other humans, or dismiss him as an annoyance like other demons, you simply respected him. The bond began to deepen and Douma found himself training you more often as his admiration for you turned into affection. Then, his affection turned into love. He realized that he loved you after your latest training session finished, you thanked him as usual and went on your way. Douma had decided to turn you into a demon a long time ago, but he didn’t want you to become a servant to his master, Douma realized. He wanted to turn you into a demon so that you would remain by his side forever. He felt elated at this revelation, he could feel emotions, all of which were spurned by you. His heart beat for you, he couldn’t let you go, not now.

•Yet it seems like your utopia was not destined to last long, as you noticed some cult members you were close too were disappearing. Which was totally not Douma killing them out of jealousy. You grew concerned and uneasy, and you decided to discuss the disappearances with Douma. However, the sight that greeted you halted all your thoughts. It was Douma, your teacher, your saviour, the man you saw as a father, eating a woman. You froze, stunned by his actions and questions formed quickly. He was a cannibal? How could he lie to you? Was he going to eat you too? You didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out. Douma then noticed your presence, but before he could do anything, you took off, running as fast as you could.

Huffing, you ran as quickly as your legs would carry you through the woods near the Paradise Faith Cult. Your lungs felt like they would burst, and every part of your body ached from pain and coldness. You couldn’t remember how long you’d been running for, almost an hour if you had to guess. But no matter how much your body hurt, you couldn’t rest. Not when he was chasing you. But your body told a different story.

You felt numb, for you’d been running barefoot in a sleep kimono through the snow-filled woods. The wind was harsh and howled as blew. A flurry of snowflakes whipped around, aiding in blocking your vision along with the dark of the night. Puffs of steam left your parted lips as you panted. You previously wanted to hit yourself for putting yourself in this situation, but this was probably a better punishment.

Honestly, how could be so stupid? You’d always been slightly off-put by Douma, but you let your suspicions go as you cultivated a relationship with him. Your lip quivered and you realized you were about to cry. You bit your lip to prevent from breaking into full-on sobs, but couldn’t stop the few tears that welled up. The tears froze as they fell, adding to the cruel cold that overwhelmed you. Still, you pushed yourself to keep going. You weren’t going to die here. Douma himself had said it, you were a survivor. So, no matter what, you wouldn’t die. You’d get out of this alive, you swore to yourself. The trees further up were more open, you noted, squinting to try and get a closer look. A clearing, you thought excitedly, a way out of here!

You sped up, aided by your new-found adrenaline. As you bounded up the snow, something about the clearing seemed off. But you couldn’t turn back now, not when you’d made it this far. Setting your suspicions aside, you focused on getting to the clearing. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you reached the opening. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized what was at the end of it— a cliff! You skidded to stop and stared down to the bottom of it. Gulping, you turned you looked down below. Beneath the cliff was a rushing river. You clenched your teeth, unsure of what to do.

“My, my, (Y/N), you’ve gone quite far, haven’t you?”

You gulped in fear and slowly turned to face him, to face Douma. A rush of emotions flooded through you, ranging from horror to anger. Horrified because this monster had caught up to you, angry because he had betrayed you, sad because you loved him, and guilt because you could’ve saved yourself and others if you just payed attention and listened to your gut. There were so many things you could’ve done, should’ve done in that moment. Alas, you remained still as a deer in headlights.

Douma smiled that unnerving smile of his, but he couldn’t hide the anger in his eyes. “Come along now (Y/N), it’s time to return home.”

You shook your head slightly, then you took a small step back. The edge of the cliff crumbled, alarming both you and Douma. In that moment, Douma felt both fear and anger surging through him. He was angry at you for leaving him. But he was also angry at himself for being careless, he should’ve turned you into a demon sooner. And honestly, you’d be better off for it. Look at the state of you, pale and shivering from the cold. You looked sickly and would surely fall ill. Still, Douma was mostly fearful of losing the only thing he’s ever loved, the one person who made him feel.

“It’s alright (Y/N). You’re forgiven, I won’t hurt you,” cooed Douma, attempting to coax you from cliff. His efforts only caused you to back up further.

Suddenly, the edge cliff crumbled more and the chunk you had stepped onto broke off. You shrieked as you fell backwards. Douma rushed to catch you, panic in his voice as he shouted your name. And then you blacked out, the cold and tiredness having caught up with you. Douma managed to grasp your wrist in time and hoisted you up. He possessively held you to his chest, carrying you bridal style. Your body was almost as cold as his, Douma noted frowning with concern. Yet there was sense of relief that washed over him. You were back in his arms, and he would never let you go again.

Yandere Platonic Sukuna

tw: Yandere Themes, Overprotectiveness, Attempted Murder, Massacre, Concubines/Harems, Poison, Mentions of Killings, Torture, Child Murder, Child Neglect

•Sukuna is definitely one of the most unexpected platonic yanderes. I mean who’d expect the might ‘King of Curses’ to have an attachment to another being? Well, the sorcerers didn’t and that’s for sure. Sukuna was human before he was defeated. He wined, dined, and lusted to his hearts content.

•It wasn’t a surprise when Sukuna found out he sired offspring, afterall with all the woman he had slept with there was bound to be some. Originally, when he discovered your existence, Sukuna planned to kill you. He didn’t want any children, even if he didn’t have to raise them. Your mother was wise. She fled from her life as one of Sukuna’s many concubines once she learned that she was pregnant. She knew what happened to the other women who bared Sukuna’s children.

•Your mother kept to herself, giving birth to you in a village then packing it up and moving along after just two weeks. She knew that if he found you, Sukuna would kill both of you. But no matter how cautious she was, even your mother grew careless as time passed. Around two years had passed and Sukuna still hadn’t found you. So she settled down in a quaint farming village, raising you with the help of the kind village people.

•Unfortunately, your cursed energy grew extremely and it was detected by Uraume. They investigated the source, then reported back to Sukuna. So he set out on his way to ‘take care’ of you and your mother. Your mother awoke to the sounds of screaming and crying with the smell of smoke wafting through the air. He’d found you. She ran to get you but was interrupted by Sukuna barging through the door. He began to choke your mother as she struggled. Then you toddled out, having been wakened by the loud noise outside.

•Instead of screeching and sobbing out of fear like Sukuna expected you to after you saw him, you sleepily walked up towards Sukuna and motioned for him to pick you up. He dropped your now dead mother, who went motionless awhile ago, and held you up by your sleep kimino. He was fascinated by you. Why were you not scared? Sukuna inspected you, searching for a tell as to why you were unafraid. Perhaps it’s because of you’re unusually high cursed energy, Sukuna thought as he poked one of your chubby cheeks. That made you pout adorably, puffing your cheeks which caused your father to laugh. Maybe it was because you were his child, Sukuna mused playfully. You truly were entertaining. He could keep around for a little longer, couldn’t he? You provided more amusement than any of the women in his harem did.

•Sukuna ended up taking you back with him. He ordered some maids to prepare a room and to take care of your basic necessities. Nobody understood what purpose Sukuna had for you. Some pitied you, some envied you, while others ignored you. Sukuna visited you almost every day, just to bother or tease you. He enjoyed your reactions and his visits became longer and more frequent. The maids continued to care for you to the best of their abilities. They saw that you were just a helpless child, an adorable one at that. However, the concubines of the harem grew jealous of you.

•The concubines yearned for the treatment you received. Many of them felt entitled to it and began to plot for your death so that any children they sired would receive the same treatment. So they snuck poison into your dinner with the help of a bribed maid. When Sukuna found your pitiful form he went ballistic. Carefully, he first healed you, then he slaughtered and tortured everyone in the harem and all the maids. All while cradling you in one of his arms.

•After that incident, Sukuna became hyper protective of you. He would have only Uraume care for you when necessary. Otherwise you would spend all your time with him. You grew up under Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your childhood was a luxurious one, all your whims were quickly met. Sukuna absolutely doted on you, spoiling you to your hearts content. Eventually, you blossomed into a beautiful and kind young lady, all the more reason to keep you locked away from the world in Sukuna’s eyes. He would rather die than have someone take you from him.

•You never once complained though. You understood what a terrible place the world was, at least according to your father. You had everything you desired here. Besides, there was always Sukuna and Uruame to keep you company. But then came the day where your father was defeated and sealed away. You were utterly heartbroken. One particular sorcerer who helped defeat him, saw you and instead of exploiting your powers, he helped you. He gave you freedom. You fell in love with the sorcerer and married him, living a long happy life without your father.

•Eventually, when Yuji ate Sukuna’s finger and that whole mess got over with, all Sukuna could think about was you. You’d gotten married, according to the smug white-haired annoyance, to one of the sorcerers who helped defeat him. Sukuna was livid. Perhaps he was a little irked at you for marrying that traitor but he mostly blamed that sorcerer. First he sealed Sukuna away, then he steal his precious child?! But you’d long passed alongside your husband, Sukuna grimaced.

•Sukuna’s mourning was cut short when Yuji’s elder sibling walker through the door. It was you, an exact replica. Sukuna watched in amazement. This person didn’t just look like you, the sounded like you and acted like you. You had the exact same mannerisms, the same smile and laugh. Now, Sukuna doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but right in front of him was living proof. You’d been reincarnated, and you were the exact same as when he left you. Sukuna had another chance with you, and even though you didn’t know it yet, he’d be damned if he let his child slip through his fingers a second time.

Yandere Platonic bakudaku x reader could it be fantasy au please ,maybe reader found them all beaten up after the boys were fighting goblins ( or their could have saved her/them from the goblins) and they all travels together only for them to prevent the reader from dating anyone?

Yandere BakuDeku Fanatasy AU

tw: Yandere Themes, Suggested Orphan Reader, Protectiveness, Obsession, Violence

You had been travelling with your companions for nearly two years now. Katsuki Bakugo was a strong warrior and his partner, Izuku Midoriya, or Deku as he was more commonly known, was a skilled alchemist. You don’t know what string of fate lead you all together, since your meeting was completely coincidental. Although it mostly was because of your foolish actions- something you prefer not to think about.

You’ve always been a free-spirited child, running amok and causing chaos wherever you took up residence. That chaos often lead to you being kicked out of the villages and towns that took you in, leaving you to fend for yourself. The day you met Bakugo and Deku, you had been journeying through a forest in search of another place that would take pity upon you. You were frolicking along the path in the forest which was cleared for travellers. That was until something caught your eye.

It was a lovely flower sitting just past the side of the path. The flower was so pretty and you wanted to see it up close. You bit your lip lightly dur to your apprehension. You’d heard the cautionary tales told by travelling merchants and adventurers, warning not to venture into the forest. You decided it couldn’t be that bad-it lay merely a few feet ahead. Humming, you went to inspect the flower and plucked it. You would have turned around to leave but then you saw another flower which looked even prettier a few feet ahead. You pondered whether to return to the path or not. The flower was gorgeous and you could still see the path. So you decided to venture a little bit deeper into the forest to pick that one as well.

You saw yet another flower more striking than the previous, and after considering less carefully this time around, opted to go pick it. It became a pattern as you threw caution aside and happily ventured deeper and deeper into the forest. As the sun begins to set, you finally decide to return. However, you’ve gone too deep into the forest and you have absolutely no clue which way you came from. You gulp nervously. What creatures and monsters lurked and prowled in the cover of the night?

Your question would be answered when you saw a hoard of little impish creatures- goblins. Long pointed ears and equally pointed teeth. Short, green bodies with disgusting boils all along their rough skin. They howled at you, although it really was more of a shriek. You screamed out if fear and ran as fast as you could through the forest. You didn’t know where you were running too, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered was escaping those horrid little beasts. Then, you tripped over a root you hadn’t seen. You hissed in pain, clutching your foot. The goblins caught up to you, much to your horror. You scuttled away into a thick tree, ignoring the intense pain. You let out a pained whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. Suddenly there was a yell, and flashes of colour that dizzied you. You were too exhausted and shocked to comprehend what wad happening. All you could make out was someone coming up to you before the world faded to darkness.

You groaned as you awoke, a bright light shone brightly. You blinked to adjust yourself to the light. Once you finally adjusted your vision, you furrowed your brows in confusion. were in a room, a nice one at that. The light was from the window on your right, the sun had risen already. Did that mean it was midday? You put aside your musings as you awed at the room itself. The room was the finest you’ve ever been in, for you’d never amassed enough money to stay in an upperclass inn. The bedding was soft and warm. You took a moment to enjoy the small luxury before snapping back to reality. How did you end up here? What happened to the goblins?

“You’re up!” someone exclaimed as they opened the door. You tensed slightly and they put their hands up to reassure you. “Ah, I’m sorry you must be surprised. My name is Izuku but everyone calls me Deku.”

“Oh, okay Mr. Deku, I’m alright. Did you bring me here?” You asked relaxing.

“Mmhmm, my partner Kacchan and I heard your scream. We ran to find you and those goblins. You fainted after we found you so we brought you to the inn.” said Deku, “What was a kid doing out there anyways?”

“Well I was walking along the forest path and then I saw this really pretty flower that was just a bit off the path.I know you’re not supposed to wander off but it was really close! So I went to go pick it. Then I saw an even prettier flower and I went to go pick that flower. The deeper I went, the more beautiful the flowers were and I didn’t notice until the sun began to set. That’s when the goblins attacked me and I ran.” You recounted.

Deku couldn’t help but laugh. Honestly you were so adorably naïve! You’d pranced into a forest known to be filled with dangerous monsters to pick flowers. You blushed furiously and pouted at him but that only caused Deku to laugh more. As your face reddened with childish anger and embarrassment, Deku ceased his laughter and apologized to you, an apology you barely accepted. Your stomach growled with hunger and you became flustered once again. Deku smiled gently and offered you to join him for lunch. An offer you eagerly accepted. You made your way to the dining hall of the inn, a warm and jovial place, filled with the scent of warm food and booze.

“Hey, so the kid finally woke up, huh.” Spoke a gruff voice which caused you to squeak.

“Kacchan! Be more gentle,” Deku admonished.

Bakugo huffed before glancing at you. You really were small and weak. Why you would ever go into that forsaken forest was beyond him. Well it didn’t really matter because he was just going to drop you off at the orphanage here. Nursing his ale, Bakugo watched Deku fuss over you. Honestly, what did he think he was doing? Deku had tried to convince him to take you with them, but Bakugo couldn’t do that. You were to fragile to travel alongside them, you would only be a hindrance. That was something Deku couldn’t- or refused to see.

However that plan came to a halt when the orphanage told him that they simply just didn’t have the room or the funds to take in another child. Frustrated, Bakugo was told that they next town over had a good orphanage. Bakugo groaned while a wide grin enveloped Deku’s face, you were going to stay with them for a little while longer it seems. You were excited of course. I mean they were adventurers! You were practically going on a quest. Bakugo shut that dream down quickly, letting out too many some ground rules. You became crestfallen until Deku distracted you with some basic alchemical creations. Deku glared at his partner but Bakugo remained unmoved. They would drop you off at the next town over and be done with you.

But alas, fate didn’t seem to share the same idea. As you traveled with them, you grew on them, more specifically Bakugo. You were just so happy and energetic. Your smile put the sun to shame, it was that bright. You truly fit in to the little family that Bakugo had made with Deku, but it was finally complete. Bakugo was raised with the barbarian traditions. Barbarians treasure their children, never abandoning them. So with Deku so insistent, and in accordance with barbarian traditions, he couldn’t leave you at the orphanage. Once you all arrived at the town, you and Deku didn’t part tearfully. Instead, Bakugo told you both that you were just here to pick up supplies, leaving you and Deku overjoyed.

You’ve travelled with them ever since. You’ve learned everything they could teach you, and even taught yourself some skills. Bakugo and Deku have watched you grow and they couldn’t be prouder. Recently, you’ve all stopped at a quant village. More notable than anything else in the village, is the charming farmhand that resides there. The adorable freckles dotting their face and their playful smile that makes your heart flutter. At first, it was passing glances which evolved into fleeting touches. But soon it became a relationship, one that you were keeping secret.

Now, Bakugo and Deku aren’t idiots, they can tell something is off with you. And when they find out about your relationship, Bakugo is livid. He wants to end the farmhands miserable life right then and there. Deku, on the other hand, knows how heartbroken you’d be if they ripped you two apart. Your heart may have to be broken, but who says it has to be them who break it? With a little threatening and a few minor injuries, the farmhand finally understands that they’re unworthy of you.

And when they finally do break up with you, you’re utterly devastated. When Deku and Bakugo find you sobbing, they immediately comfort you. Deku reassures you and asks you what’s wrong. You tell them everything, apologizing for keeping it a secret. Deku hushes you, while Bakugo, in a low murmur, asks for a name.

Don’t worry, they’ll always be there for you. Always.

Hi I really enjoyed reading YANDERE PLATONIC TENGEN AND HIS WIVES ,do you think I could request yandere platonic tanjiro and nezuko hcs please💓

Yup and I’m so glad you liked Tengen and his wives.

TW: Yandere Themes, Overprotectiveness, Violence, Potential Anime Spoilers

Yandere Kamado Siblings

•You’re the third eldest of your family, a responsible and caring child. You and the Kamados’ had a wonderful and peaceful life. You would help Nezuko care for your younger siblings, and aid Tanjiro with selling coal.

•But all that changed when you and Tanjiro went out to sell coal and came back to discover that Muzan had killed your family- all except for Nezuko. Although she’s been turned into a demon, Nezuko doesn’t attack you. It’s as if her instincts are telling her not too. When Giyuu arrives you beg and plead for sister, only to be shoved aside. This angers both Tanjiro and Nezuko. However, Giyuu outmaneuvers both of them and knocks them out

•After that Giyuu directs you all to Urokodaki. During your journey Tanjiro holds your hand, until the demon attack and Nezuko kills it. Once they arrive at Urokodaki, Tanjiro comes to the conclusion that your safety comes above all else. He’s training to be a demon slayer, and Nezuko is a demon; but you? You’re their baby sibling, the only one left. They can’t lose you.

•Much to your protest, Tanjiro forbids you to become a demon slayer and makes you stay with Urokodaki when he isn’t there. Due to the danger he faces on missions, Tanjiro decides that you should remain with Urokodaki. And as much as it hurts him to leave you, and separate you and Nezuko, it has to be done. No amount of pleading or begging will change his mind.

•With Urokodaki, you find some semblance of peace. You miss your siblings, truly, but you enjoy the sense of freedom you found here. But that doesn’t last long because you’re reunited with them during the events of rehabilitation training arc, curtesy of Giyuu.

•Tanjiro and Nezuko are ecstatic to see you again! They’ve missed you so much. And you’re happy to see them too, of course. It’s just that, they’ve changed a little.

•Nezuko clings to you, constantly hugging you and patting your head. She will start sobbing if you try to leave her. And Tanjiro is no help considering he’s just as attached. You love them, you really do, but you need personal space.

•They’re also insanely protective, you’re barely allowed outside of Butterfly Manor when they’re there. You can just go outside for five minutes and they’ll be on your case. Nezuko will be wailing and cuddling you tightly while Tanjiro will scold you for leaving without them. What if you had gotten hurt or worse?! They’d never be able to live with themselves!

•Tanjiro wants nothing more for you to be happy, but your safety takes priority. Plus, you’ve got him and Nezuko and they’re all you’ll ever need. So just be good and let them take care of you.

YANDERE PLATONIC TENGEN AND HIS WIVES TW: Yandere, Possessive Behaviour, Injuries, Mild Gore(?), Violence

You probably drew Tengen’s attention first and foremost. How? You’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you were going about your day when the massive, flamboyant Sound Hashira crashed into your life.

You were awestruck, I mean how couldn’t you be? You’ve just barely reached the rank of Kanato, and before you stands a Hashira, one of the strongest members the corps!

Tengen doesn’t understand his feelings right away, denying his new-found obsession for you. He only insists on you going with you on every mission, spending every single minute possible with you because of how flamboyant you are.

But his jealousy flares every time you gush about Rengoku’s strength, or Shinobu’s intelligence.

He’s the one who recognized your flamboyant potential. He’s the one who improved your swordsmanship skills. He’s the one who raised you to the rank of Hinoe with just two months of training.

Still unable to recognize his growing obsession with you, he finds the solution to all his problems, you can just become his Tsukago! His and his alone. And of course, you’re elated. Not just because of the promotion, but rather because Tengen thinks you’re worthy enough to become his successor.

And obviously, as his only successor, you should meet his wives. Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru all adore you. You’re just the sweetest thing, aren’t you? All flustered with the attention they’re giving you. So humble too! Adamantly denying your skills. You got to where you are because of Tengen, only because of his training were you ae to accomplish all that you have.

Tengen’s heart swells with pride watching you with his family, you and his family. It is perfect and flamboyant, because you are with him and you are safe until suddenly you aren’t. Until suddenly you’re on your first mission together as his Tsukago, and it’s harder than anything you’ve ever faced.

It’s perfect until one of the many demons that swarm you endlessly manages to land a hit. And suddenly, you’re in his arms bleeding. There’s so much blood, your blood. He gently cradles your body in his arms, trembling with anger at your pitiful form. In a blind fit of rage, Tengen slaughtered the remaining demons.

He angrily demanded the Kakushi to give you the best treatment possible, as your breathing became slower and steadier.

Tengen has Shinobu treat you, and he remains by your side along with his wives until you finally regain consciousness. Immediately, everyone sprang to action, Suma began sobbing tears of joy, Makio shouts alternate between demanding for a doctor and questioning your condition frantically, Hinatsuru attempts to soothe you, reaching to place a placating hand on your shoulder.

All of this overwhelms you, which is noticed by Tengen, who orders his wives out of the hospital room. Tengen manages to calm you down and explains your condition. You’ve been injured, badly. He says Shinobu orders at least two months bed rest. You try to sit up to protest, but the pain sears through you at the sudden moment. Begrudgingly, you agree.

Tengen remains by your side, caring for you, and when he can’t, his wives are more than happy to step up. Soon, the realization dawns on Tengen that he likes you being like this. A little baby who relies on him and his wives, on their papa and mamas. The delusional gears begin to turn, and his protective instincts are driven to a high.

After two months pass, you’re still being babied by Tengen and his wives, despite you feeling fine. And it’s not that you’re ungrateful for their care, but you want to go out on missions again, you want to do your job. But Hinatsuru shuts down all talk of being better by masterfully changing the topic of your conversation. Makio always scolds you, albeit gently, because don’t you recall the severe pain you felt? And Suma is by far the worst, she begins bawling at the thought of you being potentially in danger. So really, you have no other choice but to ask Tengen.

“No.”

“No?” You repeat dumbly, baffled by the audacity he held.

“Yes, no. I forbid you from going on missions.” Tengen declares, leaving you speechless.

He forbids you?! Who does he think he is? Sure, you’re grateful for all his and his wives help, but that doesn’t mean he can just forbid you from going on missions. You’re a member of the corps, just like he is. And while you may not be a Hashira, you are certainly skilled. Besides, what’s the point in all his training just to not go on missions anymore?

“You are my flamboyant Tsukago,” Tengen says, “and as your flamboyant master, you must respect me and my decisions.”

You felt mild anger surge through you at the implication of you not respecting him. All you have felt since you meet the swordsman was respect and admiration. You honed your skills so you could fight alongside him and be a worthy successor.

“I do respect you!” You protest. “But you trained me so I could be your successor, the next Sound Hashira!”

Tengen gives an irritated sigh. Your stubbornness was flamboyant, but rather troubling.

Huffing, you turn to leave, “This is my job, so I’m going to get my next mission, no matter what you say!”

Tengen lets out a soft sigh once more, before swiftly landing a hit to back of your neck. He silently catches you and holds you in his arms. If only you could be a little less difficult. Don’t get him wrong, he loves your flamboyant spirit, but he just can’t let you get hurt again. And you were correct, being a demon slayer was your job, but not anymore. You won’t need a job. You’re a baby, his baby. So he and his wives will take care of you. As he glances down at you, slumped in his arms, a serene look on your face. Yes, he assured himself, this is what you needed.