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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 month

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Blanche (Yandere Oc)

tw: depiction of abuse, stalking, heavy gore, violence, captivity, torture, human excrement, like really gross stuff, lots of words 4.5k

"Oh, why, hello my darling dove." You approached the man with the kindest, deep blue eyes you have ever seen. He sets his notebook and pen down on the table nearby. He stood up from his garden chair and opened his arms wide as he smiled, his sweet, downturned eyes closing into crescents. The corner of his eyes and mouth wrinkled in genuine happiness upon seeing you.

You hugged him, allowing his gorgeous, tight curls to brush against your arms. You wonder how he could maintain such Rapunzel-esque hair that reaches the back of his knees, especially when it's deceptively short. You remember unraveling one of his curls, to find out that it's twice as long than it originally presented itself as. If it was straightened, it would be pooling around his feet like a massive flood.

"How are you, my sweet? Did you have a wonderful day?" He asked, his voice honeyed and at a higher pitch than how he usually talks to others. His long, natural nails gently raked through your hair, while you played with his pitch-black but streaked with the lightest of grey strands.

You told him that you were thirsty, and you asked if he had anything for you to drink.

"Of course, my beloved flower. Come, let me lead you to my kitchen." You removed yourself from him as he wrapped his fingers around your hand. The man picked his cane up that was resting on the side of his chair. He then hummed a happy tune to himself as he leisurely walked away from his resting spot in the garden, bringing you along with him.

You peered up at the tall, loving man. You always thought that he had a peculiar sense of fashion, especially in this modern day. He looks like someone straight out of the romantic era, around the 1800s. The man, who you know as Blanche, would never be seen without his dark brown waistcoat, a tailcoat of a similar color, white frilly cravat, and long beige trousers. Likewise, he brings his antique, wooden cane wherever he goes.

You don't think you have ever seen him wear anything else other than his polished leather shoes and black garden boots. You certainly never seen slippers around his cottage home.

"Here you go, my darling." He handed you a cup of fresh juice. "I just squeezed them this morning. I can only hope to have my oranges as sweet as you, but I believe it should at least taste decent." Blanche caressed the side of your face as you drank, kissing the top of your head.

Once you're done, you grin and thank him earnestly. He simply nuzzled his charming Greek nose against yours. "You're very welcome, my dear dove."

You like how calm he is, it's evident in the way he speaks; he speaks slowly and softly as if there wasn't a single rush in the world, perhaps sometimes it's frustrating that it takes him an eternity to finish a sentence, but living in a reality where the fast and the furious is greatly rewarded, Blanche is a nice escape for you. Especially when you're exhausted and anxious.

His movements too, remind you of a carefree snail. He takes his time doing anything ever. You watched him pour himself some juice for himself in the same cup, you would have done it in half the time he took to do so.

"My light, are you hungry?" He asked before taking a sip of juice. You said yes, you're a bit famished after making that long trek into the forest to find his home, you just came right after your classes too. "That's wonderful. I just made a blueberry pie today." He walked to the kitchen window, where you saw a delicious, golden brown pie slowly cooling. Blanche picked it up and set it down on the chipped, dining table.

"How was school, my dear?" Asked Blanche as he opened his drawers and cupboards agonizingly slowly to find the appropriate cutlery for you and him.

You reminded him that you're studying in university, He seemed to ignore that. So you continued, telling him that it was exhausting and boring, you wished that your lecturers would be a bit more entertaining in teaching the materials.

"That's quite a shame." He cut a slice and placed it on a ceramic saucer with painted floral patterns on it. Blanche gently sets it in front of you, putting a small dessert fork on the same plate.

You then went on to tell him the good news: the creep who has been trying to get into your pants for the past few days must have given up because you didn't see him around anymore.

"That's nice, dear." He smiled, gathering a couple of serviettes from a drawer nearby and setting it on the table.

You dug in as always, the man smiled at you, feeling his heart swell in glee as you enjoyed his baking.

He gave himself a slice too and sat in front of you. Then, you asked him about his day.

"Oh, the usual. Deary and dull before you come along and fill it with such vibrant colors. I'm so happy that you're visiting me today, I was lonely." He replied, cutting the slice into small pieces first.

The way you met Blanche was somewhat bizarre, but you're glad that you met him. he's the comfort that you need in this world. You would always go to him when things get tough, he will tell you that everything is going to be okay; and you would only believe him, no one else.

You met him online, there was this website where people from all walks of life visit to make friends. You initially used it to date or do one-night stands to try and fill the void in your life, but you end up finding sweet, old Blanche. You find it humorous and sad that his own profile described him as a very lonely and eccentric middle-aged man, who is looking for someone to love. He didn't specify what type of love he is seeking, but he expressed his displeasure and sadness towards previous online 'friends' of his taking advantage of his kindness and desperation to have a companion- stealing his money, robbing his house and even beating him up numerous times because he was perceived as this weak, old man.

You felt your heartstrings being tugged at as you read the words, he was really begging whoever was making those numerous fake accounts to stop harassing him. Apparently, some younger folks thought it was funny to cyber bully him, reveal private information online, send him death threats, and send him disgusting, gut-wrenching hate messages just because he wasn't as well versed in the internet as the others.

Luckily, one day, they just stopped. Ceasing all torment towards the kind man. No one knew what happened, but from that day on, no one tried to talk to him anymore. It's all radio silence.

Until you came along and decided to give it a try. It takes him a good amount of time to type a string of text, but it's always meaningful, poetic, and beautiful. He sends paragraphs as if he's writing a letter to be sent through a carrier pigeon.

The first time you met Blanche, you were filled to the brim with anxiety. Shaking and gnawing on your fingers as you take the bus to the cafe you and him were supposed to meet. This isn't someone who's the same age as you, he is much older and you feel... Weird. There isn't anything wrong with seeking friendships with him because you're an adult, you know what you're doing.

But it's so... Different. You don't know what to expect.

You definitely didn't expect the instant warmth that brought your panic and anxiousness to an all time low. Something about his vibes, his looks and the way he carried himself was so soothing. He didn't have to say anything, all he did was look your way and gave you such a genial wave along with a toothy smile.

The afternoon went swimmingly, it wasn't awkward at all; it was as if you were talking with a close, guardian-like family member. You were comfortable, maybe a bit too comfortable because you realized you overshared after you went back home. You really didn't have to tell him about your stomach problems you're suffering at the moment in such detail.

The next time you met up with Blanche, he gave you a wooden box filled with teabags of his homegrown herbs. He claimed it will help cure your condition as long as you drink it.

You didn't really believe him, thinking he's just some old fart who practices pseudoscience and most likely doesn't agree with the use of vaccines. But you decided to brew some of his tea anyways, since he seems so excited to share you a part of his world.

To your surprise and embarrassment, it got rid of the symptoms. You're no longer bloated on most days and you feel great.

Now, you would just describe to him whatever is plaguing you; it could be insomnia, a common cold, or even your crippling mental health crises. Blanche would always have something growing on his land that would cure it.

That is where you learned that he lives in a cottage, in the middle of a forest. His garden is extensive, planting all sorts of trees, shrubs, shoots and flowers. He has the greenest thumb you have ever seen. You once gave him a pot of succulents which you thought were dead, due to your failure to water it at all. Blanche looked positively horrified at the condition of the poor plant in the beginning, but he assured you that it's okay, he can help it.

You were confused, you gave it to him because you thought he would use the clay pot. But instead, he returned it to you with its planty resident healthy and plump. You knew it was the same one because it looked exactly like how you first bought it.

Blanche gave you a handwritten card of instructions on how to take care of your new, leafy friend. You tried your best to follow it, but ultimately, you gave it back to him. It now rests on the windowsill beside his bed.

Your friendship with him grew as months went by. He would have you in his cottage, you would have him in your shared dorm. To which, he prefers not to step foot into the biohazardous student kitchen. That's why, you're usually visiting him, instead the other way round.

Blanche is lovely to have in your life. Whenever you visit him, you will always leave with a week's worth of groceries; mostly vegetables and fruits that happily grew on his plot of soil. But also, there would be containers upon containers of ready-to-eat meals he cooked prior to your visit.

You became healthier and your grades went up, thanks to the convenience of his delicious cooking. Although they're mostly vegetarian since he's almost solely using produce from his back yard, it's still so tasty even the average carnivore would scarf it down without hesitance.

You're also convinced whatever he adds into his meals are making you smarter. You get to focus on your classes better and you could retain much more information than before. He would excitedly tell you all about the strange and whimsical spices he added into your dish, describing what chemical compounds might be the culprit in helping you form more brain cells.

Aside from planting, he would crochet, knit or sew. And he would churn out items fast. It was so jarring to see his hands move like the insides of a racecar motor when you could fit five eye blinks in one of his own. He was the person who crocheted your laptop bag, your favourite winter and summer top, knitted your beanie, your comfiest pair of socks and your snow gloves.

Whenever there is a rip or tear in your clothes, even if the shoulder straps of your bag fell off, you could simply bring it over to his cottage and he would return it good as new. Being friends with Blanche allowed you to save up a substantial amount of money, you would then use it to buy him a new smartphone. It may not be the most luxurious, but it's definitely worlds away from the yellowed brick phone with a numerical pad he owns.

You think it is time for him to transition into the modern world, and you care for him enough to bust a hole in your already very empty university student wallet to help him. The next thing on your agenda was to buy him a new computer or laptop because he is using one that is ridiculously thick and cuboid; with a terrible screen resolution. It took him half an hour just to access the internet.

He was over the moon upon gifting it to him. To the point of tears, he was indescribably happy. You were worried as to why he was on his knees, hugging you close to him as he sobbed loudly on your shoulder. Initially, you thought you triggered something traumatic or did something to offend him, but Blanche assured you that wasn't the case.

Only after he calmed himself down, prepared a teapot of his homemade tea blend for the two of you, did he explain:

You are his one true friend, who consistently showed up for Blanche, cared for him, showed interest in his character, never hit him, and did not try to swindle money off him. It was surprising and melancholic, to say the least, that this was the only gift he ever received out of love and kindness; without the other party wanting anything in return. It was so nice for once to have someone around who isn't only after his wealth or free labor.

You didn't get how the world could be so cruel to such a kind spirit. It made you angry how he was badly mistreated in the past, but he simply smiled and told you that everyone must move on. Blanche has you, and that is all that matters to him.

You still weren't satisfied. You asked if he had gone to the police, told their parents, told their workplace- anything! They can't just get away without any repercussions, it makes your blood boil and heartache for your friend.

Blanche merely smiled, albeit ominously. He told you not to fret over them, as they eventually "Got what they deserved." He didn't elaborate on that further, you simply assumed that he said what he said due to his overly forgiving nature and not wanting you to worry about his torment.

It wasn't easy teaching him how to use the smartphone, though. Every little thing, he would call you using his rotary phone on how to use it; "Hello, darling. This is Blanche speaking, Could you please come over sometime this afternoon to guide me through the steps on how to surf the interweb on this lovely gadget you gifted me? I seem to have forgotten how to do so."

You think he's just using that as an excuse to hang out with you. Because there is no way he would forget how to tap on a couple of things after the 16th time.

You did ask him about his family. Blanche would tilt his head to the side and give you a saddened smile. Before telling you about how his parents weren't good people, he ran away from home and didn't know the fate of his other siblings. Because of his background and peculiar personality, he found it hard to create lasting bonds as they would always wound up abandoning him or abusing him. He said that he must be excreting some sort of pheromone that attracts people like these.

But he held no ill will towards them, as they "got what they deserved". You brushed that off again as Blanche being too nice to the cruel world.

You're concerned, though. It really seems like you're his only ally. He is definitely clingier now that the friendship has deepened. You're worried that you're going to have to say "no" to some of his requests to have your presence here as he grows more and more unbearable, it's definitely going to break his heart.

"My rose?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon feeling Blanche's fingers gently pushing your hair back. You're now back to the present, where you and he are comfortable with light skin-ship, you also liked how he would call you all these pet names. It made you feel so fluttery inside.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem to be distracted with something." He cupped your cheeks and inspected your face further. His eyebrows were knitted in concern.

You said that you were fine, just thinking about your daily obligations and how you should get going soon.

He frowned. "Must you go?" He whispered. "I'm so lonely out here. Please stay for a while longer."

You can't because you have a work shift starting soon. Plus, you have to complete that assignment that you're putting off because you were too busy accompanying Blanche in his isolated Cottage with the world's worst internet connection.

He sighed, looking miserable. "Please wait for a few minutes, I have something for you." Blanche stood up and made his way upstairs.

You watch him ascend the stairs with one hand on the handrails, and the other on his cane. You think that this might be an extremely dangerous lifestyle for a man like him to live, what if he trips and falls? He wouldn't be able to call for help, especially when phone reception out here is atrocious.

You continued eating your slice of blueberry pie, even taking another slice from the dish for yourself. You knew Blanche wouldn't mind, and you knew that he was going to make you bring the entire thing home anyway.

He came back down a few minutes later, holding a brown envelope. Immediately, you went on to reject it. You already knew what was in there and you didn't feel comfortable accepting it.

"Please, I insist, my love." He tried slipping it into your bag, but you wrestled it away from your belongings. You said that you have no use for it, you can make your own money.

For the past few weeks, he has been giving you regular allowances. It isn't anything to scoff at either, it's always one grand per envelope. Now you can see why there were so many people who tried to siphon as much funds out of Blanche as possible.

"I have no doubt in my heart that you are capable, but I... I'd like to buy your time, please." He clasped his hands around yours, bringing your fingers to his soft lips. "I want to spend more time with you, I want you to stay longer. Will you do that for me, my love?"

You paused, it was hard to say no to those big, pleading eyes of his. But you have to, even if you don't necessarily have to work with Blanche's financial help, you still need to put in effort in your studies to not fail.

So with a heavy chest, you said no. You promised that you would visit him again very soon, you just need to get your assignments out of the way and you will be golden.

His shoulders sagged in defeat as he softly whimpered under his breath.

"Alright." He muttered, before reviving the loving smile on his lips.

He opened his arms, to which you gladly threw yourself in. He laughed, picking you up and pressing kisses against your cheek. Blanche tenderly twirled you around, letting your legs dangle in the air as you too giggled. You rubbed your face against his frilly cravat, also enjoying the feeling of his lips on the crown of your head.

Blanche is now alone in his garden. His lips were pressed in a thin straight line. You left a few minutes ago with his personal cart filled with his fresh produce for the week. And also the remaining blueberry pie that is stashed away in a container for convenience. He hopes that the eggs he gave you are enough to last until your next visit, his chickens are producing a bit less than usual.

He picked up his pen and notebook he left on the garden table earlier. Blanche then tucked the cane under his arm before marching away without wasting any time. Without you witnessing, Blanche actually moves scarily quick, his graceful agility allows him to traverse the span of his garden speedily without damaging any of his crops.

Blanche walked deeper and deeper into the foilage until the sunlight could barely be seen through the dense vegetation.

Eventually, he reached a dilapidated wooden shed. Blanche stood right in front of the door with a heavy lock and took out his golden stopwatch from his breast pocket. The male noted the time before writing it down in his notebook.

He kept them away, Blanche then fished out a key, along with a hairband from another pocket in his trousers. His lower eyelid twitched as he tied his voluptuous hair into a large, very messy bun. But at least it's not going to interfere too much with what he's about to do.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open using his shoulder, it was hard to move it as the hinges had rusted to a considerable degree. Blanche dusted his sleeve off before taking out his notebook again, noting that he had to replace its parts soon.

Finally, he kept everything back in his pockets. Blanche tightened his fists in anger as pathetic muffled screaming and wailing reached his ears.

"Oh, be quiet, will you?" He snarked, a complete 180° from the Blanche that you're used to. Luckily, you're not here to see it.

He turned around to see your harasser. Completely naked and covered in bloody, infected lacerations. His face and body were blue from bruises and other injuries. He was gagged using his own clothes that were cut up by Blanche. His victim couldn't escape if he wanted to, as he was tightly bound by metal chains that were cutting circulation around his wrists and ankles.

There was rot, maggots, blood, and excretory products all around him as the bodies of Blanche's ex-friends decomposed around the creep. He was squirming in his own puddle of urine and vomit, as Blanche has kept him there since yesterday, right after you went home from your last class.

He is used to the smell of death. He worked with natural fertilizers, after all.

Blanche took long strides towards his trembling form, which only shook even more the closer he got.

He lets out a shout when Blanche strikes him using the end of his cane, the force is so strong that it instantly breaks the skin on his head, making him bleed profusely.

Blanche's eyelids twitched even more, he suddenly discarded his cane before pulling out two brass knuckles from his left pant pocket. He hastily puts them on before throwing powerful punches against his current, human punching bag.

Cracks, screams, and crunches resonated throughout the small space as Blanche let out all his frustrations on him. All his hatred towards the world, his anguish, and misery of not being around you, all of it- your harasser has to bear. Just because he chose the wrong person to mess with.

Blood, spit, and other fluids splattered on his once pristine clothing, dying his cravat red.

"Fucking disgrace." He mumbled as he managed to beat the man to a pulp, striking him hard and long enough to expose the broken bones to the stagnant air. Blanche continued scraping the flesh off his bone using the brass, there is an easier way to extract his bones, but he would very much rather use this method to relieve him of his rage. And, this delivers the maximum amount of pain and fear into your offender, a justified punishment for him, for disturbing Blanche's precious flower's peace.

Sweat beads down Blanche's forehead as he went on whaling on the unconscious, deformed mass that was starting to lose heat. Ichor pooled around his shoes, mixing with the other foul fluids around him.

Once he has managed to liquefy his flesh from his repeated, rapid pummeling, Blanche dug his bare fingers into the gory heap to extract the bones, gathering them in his arms and not caring that he has dirtied himself greatly.

He grunted as he ripped the bones from its weakened ligaments, spraying scarlet all over the already viscera-covered walls.

Blanche panted as he stood up straight, one arm holding his yield, the other hand taking out his once clean pocketwatch, now he's soiling it with bloodied fingerprints.

Five hours. Five whole hours of brutalization to pacify Blanche from his sorrow of watching you cut your visit short, due to some silly little assignments. He shook his head, he could have used all that time doing something else, but he needed to take care of this bastard anyway.

Now that he's not as upset, he took his time documenting whatever he did in his notebook which is equally covered in biohazardous grime.

He then turned around, and picked up his cane, not bothering to face the mutilated, unrecognizable mass of meat behind him one last time. Blanche was already thinking about what to do next as he locked the shed up, the previous bloodied fingerprints on the pad were washed away by the rain a few days prior.

He lets his mind wander to you, thinking about what you're doing right now. Blanche knows there is zero chance of you calling or contacting him through the phone because he knows that you're now at this stupid house party instead of working on your assignment like you told him.

Blanche isn't as tech-illiterate as you think. He is also not that gullible, he knows more than you believe or could ever imagine.

He wishes that you would be a bit more truthful towards him. But as of now, he's content with the amount and quality of bones he managed to harvest.

He made the long walk back to his cottage in the dark, his eyes already adapted to the darkness from decades of 'gardening' at night.

Blanche was mentally calculating the amount of time and heat needed to dehydrate the bones, to make them into bonemeal for his chickens. He suspected that they weren't producing as many eggs as usual because their calcium count was low, so the shell wouldn't be developing properly.

But thoughts of you kept interrupting his head. Blanche would smile, looking forward to your next visit. He would definitely have enough eggs for you by then.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Blanche #ngl idk if i should make it platonic or romantic #but i guess this old man is my first platonic yandere #well maybe its in the same vein of yandere older brother #where the love is pretty dubious??#i too would like to sex the old man

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