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Red Wedding

Sanzu x reader

Description: Look at this fanart.

Content: Dark Content, Blood, Not super descriptive gore (decapitation + massacre), Sanzu in a wedding dress, Yandere, Reader is gn

Word Count: 680

Note: Minors + Ageless blogs dni, the title is a Game of Thrones reference

You knew the moment you heard the screams that your white fairytale dream was destroyed.

The screams echoed through the venue, like angels vocalizing your walk down to the altar. The closer you got to the doors, the quieter the angels were, the screams slowly synchronizing into nothing. The blurry shadows outside the windows, outside the venue, wouldn’t help you. They were there to prevent the help.

One last scream, the most agonizing, the most bloody scream, and you opened the doors.

Decorating the once golden room were white banners, crystalline chandeliers, white rows of seats. The purest room to make your eternal vows of love, now all bleached in red. Bodies lie slumped on both sides of the venue, deep cuts in some and lethal bullet wounds in others. None of them moving, no more songs for them to sing.

On the altar, the butchered, headless body of your never-to-be husband topples off and onto the ground below. Deep, crimson liquid spurts from the cut, a puddle slowly pooling underneath the headless, tux-dressed body.

Your mouth stays quiet, words unable to form- a scream unable to rip through your vocal cords. Your eyes were only able to adjust to the massacre slowly.

Demented snickering echos through the room, an off-beat, high-pitched tung at violin strings, but a horrible sound that fits perfectly for this scene. Your eyes, decorated with golden shine, flick over to the perpetrator.

His cotton candy hair is styled as it usually is, some red blending in with the pink. His skin is bathed in the gore of your blood family and soon-to-be family-in-laws. In the whites of his eye, spots of blood are spreading around his blue eyes. A wide grin on his face, the diamond scars stretching.

Sanzu’s wearing a dress, a white dress drenched in blood. It’s the exact same white dress like the one you currently wear. The same embroidery, the same stitches- just soaked in a ruby shower.

“Our wedding really is as perfect as you promised, right?” Sanzu takes the head of your fiancee and places it in both of his hands, like his own bouquet of flowers.

“We should wear matching dresses!”

Sanzu’s eyebrow raises at you, blue eyes sending you a judgemental stare. You were mindlessly and quietly running your hands through his white, long hair when you suddenly burst out with that statement.

You let out a small laugh at his look and continue playing with his hair. “I mean at our wedding. I think we’d both look pretty in a wedding dress.”

Sanzu scoffs, pushes you away from him, and makes way to any other room you aren’t in. You let out a loud laugh and call after him. “Wait, Haru! Come back! It’d be the perfect wedding! I promise!”

“Haru…” Your voice is quiet, but it still echos, becoming another instrument in the massacre choir.

Sanzu lets go of the man’s head, allowing it to roll all the way down to the bottom of your dress, your white now red. You don’t flinch, stuck in a trance of your old lover.

Sanzu shortly follows after the head, making his way to you in his own gown. He stops in front of you, not stepping beyond the head in between yours and his feet. He takes your hands, which are shockingly still, into his own.

“You promised- just consider it the start of your vows to love and cherish me.” His tone was gentle in the most violent way, the most gentle he had ever been. “I’ll start with my vows, yeah?”

You mindlessly nodded, suddenly feeling a stickiness on your hands, hands Sanzu held with his own. His hands that had killed everyone in the venue, hands that butchered the head lying between the two of you.

“I vow never to let you go, to keep you safe from everyone-” he leaned towards you, his lips brushing by your cheek “-and to kill anyone who tries to take you away from me again.”

In the distance, crows replace the doves and screech their own melody.

#tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #sanzu x reader #yandere sanzu #tw:yandere #tw:gore #tw:blood #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #woo.dc

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Remorse

Hanma x reader

Description: Hanma can’t feel remorse for you.

Content: Fluff in an angsty way, Angst undertones, Mentions of blood and beating people up, Reader is gender neutral (let me know if you see anything indicating reader isn’t gender neutral)

Word Count: 1083 words

Note: Minors dni (even if this is sfw)

Everyone is just another punching bag for Hanma to hit. Another tool to use, another thing to manipulate, another thing at his disposal. The only person he’d consider at an equal footing as him was Kisaki, but still. Everyone is for him to use as he pleases.

Hanma’s hands are so often bloody and bruised. He enjoys punching and hitting people often, beating them till they’re on the verge of death, eyes pleading with him to stop because their mouth is swollen and filled with blood. He doesn’t listen; he’ll just shut their eyes up with “sin” and “punishment.” He’ll do the same to the next person and all the people after without any remorse.

Even when you take his cold hands into yours, scolding him and crying, he has no remorse.

You wash out the grime off his hands; your tears go down the drain with the water from the faucet. You got out the first aid kit under your bed; you cursed at him. You tell him you wish he stopped, that he just felt something other than the violent urge to hurt everyone. As you toss bloody napkins into the trash bin, you ask him why?

Hanma doesn’t feel normal with you. Normal is the urge to watch someone cower beneath him, have people bend to his will and fists. Normal isn’t staring at you with no violent grudge against you, no desire to knock your teeth out. Normal isn’t wanting you to live.

Sometimes Hanma leaves when you’re done patching him up, and you look at him leaving through your window with teary eyes. He doesn’t look back. He rides off on his bike, and you close your window, drawing out the sounds from outside. Hanma wishes you’d always leave that window closed.

Sometimes, Hanma stays.

You leave the room to grab some water, and Hanma glances at the open window. He can hear the leaves rustling, an owl speaking, and the distant honks of cars. He was so used to being the noise, the distant yells in the dead of night or the revving of engines, that he barely got to hear everything else. Hanma lies head onto your pillow, both hands resting on his stomach, and stares at your star-filled ceiling.

You’ve kept those stars up for years, too lazy to take them down. Hanma can remember the first time he saw them, the first time he came to you. You were sleeping, the lights were off, and your ceiling was glowing. He banged at your window, calling for you, and you jolted awake at the loud noises. You turned the lights on, the stars no more, and rushed the bloodied boy inside.

You should’ve left the window closed, Hanma thinks. You should’ve ignored him and let the stars continue to shine.

“You’re still here.” You stand at the door, a glass of water in your hand. You put the glass onto the bedside table. “I’ll get you some water-”

“No.” Hanma grabs your wrist, preventing you from leaving. “I’ll just drink from your cup. Lie down.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and you shook your wrist in his grasp. “Just drink from your own cup, you freak, let me-”

“Lie down with me.” His grip on your wrist loosens, but he still holds it.

You sigh in annoyance but do as he says. You walk around to the other side of your bed, the side nearest to the window, and lie down on your side. You take a pillow and hug it and opt to look down at your bed sheets rather than Hanma. Hanma stays in the same position, one of his hands now lying near the small crevice in your bed.

The dip in the middle of your bed, it’s where the two small mattresses meet to make your bed bigger. You were meant to buy a bigger mattress rather than stick with the two twins, but you eventually forgot about it. The window that never closes, the stars that are still up, and the mattresses you still sleep on, you seem to not care about the minor things. Or at least the things Hanma cares about.

Hanma doesn’t care if his own life is on the verge of death if it’s all for the blood-rushing feeling of pure ecstasy, but he cares about you and all the things you don’t care about. He doesn’t spend nights looking up at the stars wishing for another life, but he looks up at your glow-in-the-dark stickers wishing for the day you leave the window closed. He’s wishing for the day you stop asking him why because you know the answer. You just want him to say it.

When you ask him why, there are a million tiny questions behind it, but he knows the one you want to be answered. Why do you keep coming back?

Hanma turns off the lamp, the stars coming alive and the moon’s light reaching through the window. The stars glow a pale green, and the moon shines blue. Hanma’s eyes are filled with speckles of green, and the ghostly blue glow illuminates your back. The light isn’t enough for either of you to see each other, only the silhouettes of each other.

Hanma feels your fingers brush against his hand in the crevice where the two mattresses meet. Your fingertips stay there, just barely touching him, but he feels you shake. You bury your head into your pillow, snuffing out the sobs coming out of you.

Hanma’s lack of remorse will always stay with him. Even as you sob, he can’t feel guilty. He has the urge to comfort you, to care for you, but not out of guilt. His urge to love you is from the strange, abnormal feeling that overtakes his heart when he’s with you. His love for you is the one flaw compared to his constant blood-lust.

But there is no remorse, not when you let him in. Not when you leave the window open for him. Not when you can leave him so easily, but choose to heal his wounds.

Hanma’s hand reaches towards your fingers, and his own fingers curl around yours. His knuckles sting as he moves his fingers, but he ignores the pain. Your hand is warmer than the blood that stains his skin, and as long as you’ll take him, he’ll never stop going to you. But when the day comes, he’ll gladly become accustomed to the cold outside your window.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #hanma x reader #hanma shuuji x reader