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#yandere kafka
yandere-romanticaa · 11 months
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Inspired by this post by @187-mg.
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Hiding in the crowd was not necessarily his cup of tea but there were no alternative options for Blade. His disguises were just good enough in order to pass off as a regular civilian and follow you around. Blade scoffed as irritation clouded his mind. Why was he doing this, wasting his time with you? How the mighty have fallen. To think that someone so ordinary, so plain, could ever catch the attention of someone so strong? Suddenly as if on cue, his cellphone buzzed in his hand.
"How's my little baby doing?"
Speak of the devil.
Kafka had him follow you around like crazy and practically forced him to take as many pictures of you as humanly possible and if he didn't send enough according to her Blade would never hear the end of it. He sometimes wondered if it would be just easier to kill you, to snuff the life out of you and be done with it.
He never expected to fall under your spell as well.
Maybe... Maybe you really were worth keeping an eye on. Perhaps he could see why Kafka was so enamoured with you. You had your cute sides and you were amusing to simply observe. Blade started to get sloppy over time and would make a comment that would tip Kafka off.
"Don't tell me you've fallen head over heels Bladie.~"
Ugh, he could practically hear the sound of her teasing voice the moment that message popped up. He would get angry but would never outright deny anything, further proving Kafka's point. She didn't seem to mind.
Simply watching you though wasn't good enough for him. One day, you would be in his arms.
One day.
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lustlovehart · 1 month
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Caught In Her Web
A/n: I love women
Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka
Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss
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———
Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.
"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."
At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.
"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"
"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."
"Cut it out."
"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"
You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.
You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.
The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.
She has that effect on people you assume.
Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.
"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"
"I'm not gonna look at you."
Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.
"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."
"I doubt you'd give me a choice."
"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."
You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.
You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.
"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."
You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.
"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"
"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."
"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"
"Was that not obvious?"
"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."
"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."
"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."
"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"
"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.
You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.
"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"
The more you think, 3 hours left till what?
"Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."
Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.
"You don't, but I wish you did."
Keep... Date... As long... Possible...
She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.
"How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.
"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."
Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.
"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.
The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...
"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"
Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?
1 hour left.
"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."
"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.
"I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.
Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.
"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.
"Boom."
Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.
"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."
------
A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.
It's not beating. Your hearts not working.
"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.
She's familar.
"Do you remember me?"
"..."
She waits.
"Do you like me?"
“I…”
She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.
“Who are you?”
——
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wishluc · 11 months
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Can I request a yandre blade and kafka silently in a tug of war for the readers attention (btw the reader is a stellaron hunter being chill like silver wolf)
I adore them Ahhhhh Blade's characterisation is based purely off my impression of him :O
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With Kafka seated so close to you, you were surprised that nobody had contacted the authorities yet. The three of you were treated like any other customer in the quaint restaurant, despite your companions having their faces plastered all over Starskiff Haven, and you had yet to be approached by furious soldiers or, if your luck had finally run out, the General himself.
Though you think that if anyone were to attempt to apprehend Kafka, it would make for quite the spectacle. You can already picture the unconcerned expression she'd have, her lips still smiling, her gaze piercing, and her form completely relaxed, and the words she would say to the poor fool—laced with just a hint of mock surprise—before making her way out of the building. At least they'd be alive; if Blade were to get involved...well, you were just glad that his unsettling presence was enough to ward off any justice-driven warrior.
Starwatcher Avenue was gorgeous, without a doubt. In the short time you had been there, you had fallen in love with the bustling streets and the lovely cuisine, though most of your days so far were spent hidden away and waiting for Blade. Despite this, you were really looking forward to leave the Flagship, the anxiety that followed you with being associated with two wanted criminals too much to bear. At least back on your ship, you could easily evade the authorities sent after the Stellaron Hunters.
Kafka, however, was clearly in no rush. She lounged around most of the time, sometimes taking you out for a meal or to go shopping, and appeared to have no worries regarding her status. Even though Blade had regrouped with you, she was still insistent on staying, attempting to placate your troubled heart with sweet, whispered promises and firm assurances. Today's trip was also her way of proving to you that you were in no danger, and you almost believed her.
But you recently realized that living in constant fear of being arrested was nothing compared to the troubles awaiting you. It could be much worse. It could be staying with Blade.
You could...manage, with Kafka. She was unpredictable, at times, but you could rest assured that she'd never put you in harm's way. She never told you what she was planning, forcing you to rely on her cunning words, but you were familiar enough with her by now to know what she expected, and how to appease her. You could play into her desires, smile at her clever quips and lean into her possessive hold, and she would find delight in it all, even though she was aware of your intentions. She liked your little schemes, though it was no use plotting against her—Kafka was always a step ahead, always prepared to pull you back to her side and remind you of just who she was.
Blade, however, was a complete enigma to you.
You weren't very familiar with the other Hunter, having spent most of your time being lugged around by Kafka, but even the little time you spent with him had already convinced you that there was something frightening about him. You think it might be his dark eyes, seemingly seeing through your every action, which, coupled with his habit of staring at you, never failed to unnerve you. Your first encounter with him, too, left you shaking—you'd never forget the sensation of cool metal pressing against your skin, his sharp gaze locked on you with the slightest curl of his lips. You could never tell what he wanted from you.
He had smiled at you when you were tasked with wrapping new bandages around his hand shortly after his escape, and asked if you came all the way to the Xianzhou Luofu just to see him (You remember the sound of his laughter when you turned to look at Kafka in response, and you remember how something inside you stirred at the mesmerising sight). But he had yet to pull you into his arms, or smother you with affectionate words and thinly veiled threats, and you weren't quite sure what to make of him. You could only hope that his interest in you was short lived—it was tiring enough to keep Kafka placated.
"Open up, darling," Kafka's smooth voice breaks you out of your trance.
She holds a silver spoon out, a small piece of the pudding she ordered balancing carefully on it. You quickly obey, letting her feed you despite the shame that lingered when you notice Blade's curious gaze directed at you.
"Why aren't you that well behaved for me?" You freeze at Blade's remark, the dessert in your mouth suddenly tasting like sand.
Kafka chuckles, putting down the spoon in favor for placing her hand on your cheek. She gently directs you to face Blade, the man regarding you with blatant fascination.
"Why, Bladie?" Kafka's gloved fingers trace your bottom lip, "Are you jealous?"
"You're always so stiff around me," he muses, "but here you are, acting as the perfect pet for her."
"That's because we are well acquainted," you catch a wicked glint In Kafka's eyes, "It's not an act," she taps at your cheek, "is it?"
You shake your head silently, and Kafka's smile widens. Blade's displeasure is obvious in the slight frown on his face and the glare focused at where Kafka's touching you, and you start to regret picking sides.
"How cruel."
You lean back into your seat, suddenly feeling suffocated by the tense air that enveloped the table. For a moment, you swear you catch the slightest twitch of Blade's lips, but you're immediately distracted by Kafka's displeased frown.
You clear your throat in an attempt to dissipate the tension, "When will we be returning?"
"We still have matters to conclude here," Blade informs you.
Your heart sinks, but you try your hardest to hide your disappointment, "I thought we were only here for..." You glance at him, "for Blade?"
Kafka's hand had found its way to your thigh while your attention was elsewhere, her fingers splayed over your clothes, "We need to wait for the Express crew, my dear. You can be patient a little while longer, no?"
You nod, and watch as she takes a bite of the pudding for herself, the spoon in her mouth for a moment too long before she placed it down again. You turn to look outside the window instead, not wanting to meet her gaze after that display, and instead catch sight of a familiar tall figure. Around him are multiple guards in uniform, and you can already see passersby begin to whisper amongst themselves while surveying the scene. You're reminded of the posters drawn in red ink, and the fate awaiting you if you get caught. They'd want to interrogate you, wouldn't they? To your side, Kafka stands up, carefully placing her coat over her shoulders before glancing down at you with her hand outstretched. A part of you wishes you could be as composed as her by everything, but her lack of concern came from a place of confidence, in her own ability and Elios' plan. You have neither—all you can trust in is your companions. You take her hand and get up, forcing yourself to hide your growing fear. Kafka strolls out of the exit, and you follow suit, making your way out of the building and back into the streets of Starwatcher Avenue. You don't look back to see where Blade is, assuming he had disappeared into the crowd already.
As the usual protocol in situations like this, you separate from Kafka (She has insisted, before, that you never leave her side regardless of the circumstances, but you know better than to comply), and start to find your own way back to your hideout, but as you make your way down the large staircase, a hand brushes against the small of your back and a figure appears beside you. If he noticed the way you stiffened up at his touch, Blade didn't comment on it, simply falling into step with you, as though he was always there.
"This way," he instructs, moving you towards an inconspicuous alleyway between some stalls. You don't want to follow him, but with the looming threat behind you, you can't afford to attract any more attention to yourself, so you let his hand rest on you and follow his lead.
"Don't be afraid," he whispers, lips brushing against your ear, "nobody uses this path. This way, we'll have plenty of time to get...acquainted"
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all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)
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yanderehsr · 8 months
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Hi, could I request a reader that confesses to yandere then runs away in embarresment, you can choose anyone you want
Of course, hope you'll enjoy😄
Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour
Ayato: He has this smile on his face the entire time you are trying to confess, he think this is adorable, it makes him think that all the years of manipulation and sabotaging other peoples chances was worth it.
You don't get very far running away, Ayato probably predicted this outcome and had already put an arm around your waist before you can even try to run. Everything was going just like he planned, now he just needs to convince you to marry him and everything will be perfect.
"You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say that, now let's talk about marriage"
Itto: He is just so happy when he hears you confessing to him, he starts to imagine the future and all that will come, he gets so lost in his fantasies that he doesn't realise that you ran away.
When Itto snaps out of it and he notices you aren't there he panics, he is running around the entirety of Inazuma to find you, he didn't even get a chance to say yes. After he finally finds you again be ready to get a bear hug as he accept your confession. Oh he will never let you go now, not now and not ever.
"Nope, no running away again, you are MY girl now so there is no need to be embarrassed"
Kafka: She listens to the entire confession with her regular smile on her face, it's a bit softer cus she knows what you are trying to say. She interrupts you a couple of times just to see you blush and try to get your bearings back together.
Kafka lets you run away afterwards, one game of cat and mouse wouldn't hurt, she finds you pretty quickly so she can accept your confession. She makes it pretty clear that you are hers now, so no more running away from her, ok.
"It was good you confessed this soon, if you waited any longer I might have had to... do something drastic"
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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months
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Demon Fire.
Yan Kafka x F Reader x Yan Blade.
Synopsis: Where is this train going?
Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and manipulation.
Word Count: 1k.
*~*~*~*
“Which seat do you want, darling?” Kafka asks, her thumb still making circles over your own.
Her hair is half put up in a ponytail as usual, the rest flowing down the sides of her face. She only held her purse, which held only her wallet, her phone, snacks, water, and pictures of you with her and Blade. Blade pulls her suitcase, as well as yours and his, through the narrow gap between the seat rows, with his bag noticeably smaller compared to Kafka's and yours.
You point to the one closest to the window, and Kafka smiles. “That one.”
She nods, and Blade begins to put the luggage in the cabinet above, being silent all the while you and Kafka sit down.
“Neither of you have told me where we are going.” You say as Kafka puts her head on your shoulder.
“Be patient, my dear girl. You will find out soon. You’ll love it, I promise. Bladie and I spent a lot of time searching for a place to celebrate.”
You ask what you are all celebrating, and she continues.
“Do not fret, it will only be a few hours before we reach our destination. We’ll just cuddle for now, and chat. There are also movies to watch and sights to see out the window. Both the ride there and where we are going is going to be so relaxing for all of us. You have my word. Or my honor. Whichever you prefer, dear.” You stop paying attention to her words halfway through, and when she realizes this she pecks your cheek. “Though I suspect you think that neither of them exist.”
“Maybe.” As the train begins its journey, you gaze out the window, murmuring to yourself. Like a well-rehearsed performance or clockwork, an array of colorful flowers and plants glide past, each one swiftly replaced by another. Before you know it, the vibrant beauty of spring and the whispers of Kafka lull you to sleep.
The landscape was a surprise, yet not entirely, as it lay in a remote location devoid of human presence except for the occupants of the cabin nestled at the foot of the verdant hill. The vast expanse was a haven of blossoms, grass, and foliage, enough to supply a lifetime's worth of adornments for a spring festival. Every imaginable flower and plant seemed to find a home here. In the nearby lake, crystal clear waters mirrored the mountain's grandeur, while tranquil sea bass and carp glided serenely beneath the surface.
Nestled beside the solitary cottage stood a windmill, its weathered blades casting a gentle shadow. Atop the one aimed towards the heavens, doves perched, unharmed, indicating the absence of predator birds in this vicinity. The setting appeared idyllic, yet a lingering unease persisted within. Despite the hours that have passed, questions lingered in your mind; what is the purpose behind Blade and Kafka bringing you to this place, and what are they commemorating?
Kafka is the one who guides you, as always, holding your hand gently and pulling you along as she chatters away. Blade, as always, simply watches from behind you two like a shadow.
It is Blade that opens the door to the cottage, his face still stoic, as Kafka wraps one of her arms around your waist. You have adorned yourself in the attire she adores, a lacy, ebony dress accompanied by sheer black stockings and elegant flats. Much to your misfortune, according to her, Blade doesn’t hate this outfit either.
Even though Blade was the one to open the door, it is you who is forced to step in first, and it is you who is forced to sit down first at the little wooden circular table surrounded by three chairs.
“You still haven’t told me what this is about, Kafka.” Despite your curiosity, you don’t dare to raise one of your eyebrows.
“Yes, yes. Let us just rest for a moment. I’m tired.”
“...Okay. It’s just… you’ve kept me in the dark for the past few days about this trip, so…”
Kafka lets out an exaggerated sigh before sitting down as well with a thump, pressing her thumb and forefinger against her temple, gently massaging in circular motions. She is acting like she was the one who carried all of the luggage, and not Blade, who is still putting your suitcases down in the corner. “Come on, love… I’m tired, take pity on poor little old me.”
“...”
Finally, Blade sits down in the last chair. You’re not surprised by his silence anymore.
“...” In his customary manner, he rests his hands on his lap, maintaining a polite sitting posture. Unchanging, his countenance remains impassive; it is difficult to recall a single instance where a smile has graced his face, except for those dreadful moments when he is mara-struck.
“Sigh. Bladie, which suitcase did you put the peaches in? Was it [First]’s? I’m craving one.” If you were Blade, you would have rolled your eyes. “Really badly. Almost as much as I crave our dearest. I’ll get it myself.”
“...[First]’s.”
In a split second, Kafka's wearied expression transforms into a radiant grin as she stands up and walks toward your suitcase leaning against the wall.
Kafka's gaze freezes time as he rummages through your luggage, searching for the bag of peaches. As Blade utters his words, his voice retains its roughness, yet it carries a touch of tenderness.
“...Do you like this place, [First]?” He asks, looking at you. You think he is trying to put on a small smile, from the way his lips are slightly curved upward, but it does not comfort you as intended. “We picked this place for you.”
“But why?”
As ironic as it may seem, it is always Blade you ask questions to because at least he gives straightforward answers.
“Didn’t Kafka tell you?” For once, Blade seems confused. Was he not paying attention every time you asked? “It’s your birthday, isn’t it? ...Did you not know that?”
“...Well, I’m not exactly always given access to calendars…”
“...Fair.”
You hear Kafka's mischievous laughter from the corner.
“...But happy birthday regardless, [First].”
Once more, his smile achieves the opposite of its intended effect.
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morphodae · 2 months
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Fragility
Yandere!Kafka x Fem!Reader
wc: ~1k words cw: manipulative themes, yandere, sad times all around, slightly suggestive (nothing happens, kafka is just flirty and touchy lol) a/n: butterflies have always resonated with me so peep the symbolism I added, also if you know about the meaning behind Ball Peonies in HSR, kudos to you ;) inspired by this post
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Life has many forms of entertainment, yet never enough time to indulge in the splendorous display that each corner of the galaxy can offer you. As a child, you reveled in the entertainment that your own mind provided. As such, you never did enjoy playing with toys much. Lonely, dusty dolls laid untouched, the latest models that were limited edition and inspired by the trendiest media of your time – also left in the wayside.
To many, your lack of interest was skewed as ungratefulness.
To you, that was a sliver of vanity to pride yourself in. After all, nothing could ever erode the endless possibilities of the mind, no, not even age. Your mind was your own and no one could hope to take it from you.
It isn’t long before the object of your disdain stands in the doorway before you. She never could stay away from you for very long.
“You really should smile more, you know. Frown lines would ruin that cute face of yours,” she drawls out. A sharpened nail traces the edge of your cheekbone, lightly trailing down until it reaches the junction of your jawline and erratic pulse in your neck.
A warning, it seems. A deliciously dangerous, intoxicating warning that beckoned you in a never-ending push and pull dynamic. Kafka was always a master of that game. No matter how often you tried to read her, to outsmart her, to play into her hands and exhaust her options, your efforts never bore any fruit. In a way, Kafka admired the duality of your spirit, and found it endlessly cute. 
Fragility would always be the most beautiful thing to her.
“...but all beautiful things have one thing in common: they are fragile. The more fragile something is, the rarer it is. Maybe that’s what makes its mere existence so precious.”
As such, you get flashbacks of your first encounter with her on Belebog; long before you knew her true nature, long before you knew what she was capable of. You were, after all, a simple floral assistant that droned throughout your days. Yet, the monotony was always comforting. It kept you grounded in life, in a world that never seemed to change. Almost like the fairytale books you read as a child.
When you had met Kafka, she was captivating in the most severe sense; her mere presence drew in everyone around her. You’d never seen her before, never had her as a customer, yet her unmistakable charm drew you right into her carefully woven web. 
Her cute, fragile, little butterfly.
You never imagined that the skincare she gifted you was created from your own flowers; ingredients that contained a calming, drowsy effect. No wonder you were so compliant and limp. You were the one who sold her those flowers in the first place. Your naivety was your own undoing. You had no one to blame but yourself. Especially not when the woman inches closer, careful to close and lock the door behind her; hiding you away from the rest of the ship’s crew, from the rest of the galaxy.
Vast distance turns into closeness and suddenly, the flowers that used to be your favorite; sitting so pretty on the nightstand of your room – became repulsive. Kafka continued to use them on you, to keep you compliant. Yet, at the end of the day, you let her.
Kafka sits you both down on the bed, sprawling your legs out in front of her and situating herself so that her back may be flush with the steely wall of the ship’s room. Her nimble arms wrap around you, her pointed chin digs into your shoulder and she sighs in content. 
“A smart move,” she begins, “watching me.” Her grip around you tightens by a fraction. “You managed to figure out that the key card I carried was specific to my genetic code and that I was the only one able to unlock your room and others.” A poisonous kiss to your cheekbone. “You also managed to sneak a lock of my hair and find a fingerprint to recreate my genetic code in a futile attempt to escape. Heh, amusing but – we all know how that played out, right, my darling?”
Of course you remembered. Kafka switched the cards, changed the key codes, and reset all main codes so that you’d get caught before finding an escape. She’d anticipated everything and beat you at your own child’s game.
Kafka sighs and inhales the natural scent of your shampoo: her personal taste in shampoo that she forced you to use. “The ball peonies are growing well, aren’t they?”
You force a lump down your throat and nod meekly. Kafka turns you gently to face her, swirling lavender hues tracing the features of your eyes down to your lips.
“We should stay like this a while. Would you mind if I kissed you, sweetheart?”
A beat of silence. You hardly want to look at her, let alone answer this predatory captor holding you so closely.
“I need your permission. I need your words before I do anything.”
“You may.” Kafka stares deep into your eyes, scouring your expression with scrutiny before letting out a tiny chuckle.
“That’s my good girl. My sweet butterfly,” she leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Now, lay down and let me take care of you.”
You allow her, boneless as you are; who are you to fight back anymore? Should you? Would your family want you to? Before you know it, a tear dribbles down your cheek and onto your jaw, falling and evaporating silently. Kafka kisses the spot on your upper neck where the tear remained while you stare up at the icy ceiling of your room. Wandering hands of hers were not felt, the chill of the room left you numb once your bare skin was visible.
Ball peonies were no longer your favorite flower.
ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ
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mubabee · 3 days
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I’m in love with the idea of Kafka going absolutely insane in such a eery way.(on some gojo timing)
I wanna write for this because I’ve been daydreaming about this ONE scenario 😩
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yandere-sins · 8 months
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Mixed Feelings (Yandere!Kafka x Reader x Yandere!Blade)
Honestly? I got side-tracked while writing my Yan!Himeko/Welt x Reader. Insted I wrote this. Found out Kafka is easier to write than I initially thought. I like Blade but he keeps dying in my team, so he deserves some softness. Bon appetit!
Fandom: Honkai Star Rail  Pairings: Yandere!Kafka x GN!Reader x Yandere!Blade   Warnings: Yandere, Dub-/Non-Con touches/kisses, Hints at kidnapping/owning reader, Soft yandere, Possessiveness, Obsession, Infatuation, Sexual innuendos, It's not stated but there is a small implication that reader is taller than Kafka but not taller than Blade
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Kafka should have been offended at the sight of you sitting on Blade’s lap, but for some reason, she really couldn’t bring herself to it.
She should have been upset and angry at you for being quiet and obedient to someone who wasn’t Kafka. She should have been fuming as she watched him run his hand down your arm, his eyes following the touch with wonder reflected in it, and gripping it tightly when you tried to pull away. But then Blade reconsidered, forced himself to be gentle when you flinched. He had you propped on his leg, only your tiptoes reaching the floor as you sat stiff like a board, your back straighter than a blade, but Kafka had never seen him quite so calm, and neither you. Usually, you’d throw your hands in her face or try to crawl away when she wanted to do similar things with you, but there was something different about how you let Bladie treat you.
It ticked her off and intrigued her just as much at the same time.
It was painfully obvious, but neither of you knew what to make of the other. You were looking at each other equally as perplexed as Kafka felt as she watched you interact. It was strange because she felt like she wanted to say something, never too shy to speak up, tease, and defend you. But this time, she wanted to see what would happen if she kept still. You were both explosive in different ways, and she had the lighter to escalate this moment. Yet, she snuffed out the flame, watching, surprised that Blade hadn’t noticed her yet. Surprised about how deeply in thought he must have been to ignore a possible threat like her, seething beneath her curiosity.
The looks you gave each other were equally as surprising as they were confusing. Kafka knew you. No matter how much you liked to deny it, wanting to stay an enigma before her all-seeing eyes, she knew you better than anyone. You were scared. You braved yourself with your straight posture and gritted teeth, but you were scared of Blade, who had only been ordered to look after you while Kafka went to fetch you a drink. It didn’t help that she had kept you to herself until now, so you didn't know the strange man she left you with; didn't know that Kafka’s 'friends' were equally as crazy as she was—if not more. 
However Blade had managed to wrangle you into this position was unexplainable, her little rascal almost subservient now, sitting on his lap and letting his arm support you. But Kafka had to admit that Bladie could be unnerving, and it seemed that once he caught you, he had taken your moody self over completely. But even more of an enigma, perhaps, was the man awkwardly dragging his fingers over yours, trying to gain a hold on you while you dug your nails into your thighs, refusing him that pleasure.
Kafka had seen so many emotions in Blade’s eyes throughout the years. Numbness, mostly. But also anger and ecstasy. So seeing the smallest sparks of affection in his formally dead gaze, adoration, and longing swirling in the mad red, was new to even her. He was like a completely different person, though no less deadly so, Kafka was sure. It was just unusual for him to latch on to anyone, and her heart shrunk in bitterness, knowing it was for her darling.
Blade was her ‘friend’. At least he was someone she could bear keeping by her side. So seeing the hints of infatuation as he looked at you, jealousy began to bubble up in her. Kafka didn’t want him to grow fond of the one person she only wanted to herself, not being someone who liked to share what she felt was profoundly hers. There was a moment of hope for her poor heart, though, your eyes flitting over to her nervously, widening as you found her standing in the door frame holding a sweet, colorful drink for you, two straws sticking out of it. 
“Ka- Kafka!” you gasped, realizing your own predicament of being seen like this. You might argue and whine, but Kafka had installed a good portion of fear inside you, and you instinctively knew this was not a good look for you. But as you tried to jump up, Blade gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him and catching you off-guard, forcing out a most adorable “Ouf!” from your lips while your body collapsed in his arms. 
“My, my. If looks could kill,” Kafka chuckled, the smile playing on her lips never reaching her eyes as she returned Blade’s glare. Stepping down the few steps into the room, Kafka was undeterred as she made her way over to the both of you. Compared to you, she didn’t fear Blade. Why would she? Kafka knew he would do nothing to upset her. Handing you the glass, you didn’t bother refusing her kindness like usually, a mix of shame and fear forcing you into compliance. You took what she gave you—a delightful change in your attitude for once—and Kafka ran her gloved fingers down to your wrist, wrapping them around it before giving it a light tug. 
Immediately, you got on your feet, not needing her to tell you twice. Bladie’s arms slit off you defeatedly as he grumbled under his breath, averting his eyes from the sight of Kafka bringing you against her, with it being her arm now wrapped around you possessively, reminding her fellow Hunter who you belonged to.
“Thank you for watching my precious darling, Bladie. I hope you two played nice with each other while I was gone.”
“Nothing happened,” you mumbled, pouting at the insinuation that you two had been on a childish playdate. Kafka relished in the sight of your wary attempt to defy her, yet you were too scared to look at her and tell her to her face. Lucky for you, you were adorable—and it had obviously been Blade who bent you to his will, not you trying to cozy up to him. She could appreciate that, deep down, you knew who you belonged to, not even trying to soften up someone else to get what you wanted or make her jealous on purpose. 
It wouldn’t have worked anyway, considering it was Blade we’re talking about. 
“Really appreciate it,” she instead told him, watching his expression grow more glum with every time she addressed him, his eye twitching as he looked at her. 
“No problem,” he said, almost a little too monotone. Suspiciously composed. His calmness seemed almost too forced. He couldn't fool her. After all, Kafka knew him better than anyone. But Blade merely got up from his seat, walking past both of you, and with a hunch itching inside her, Kafka looked after him, watching as he stepped out of the room. You twisted further away in her hold, trying to make yourself smaller than you were and avoiding drawing more of Blade’s attention as he passed by you, and she clicked her tongue, feeling offended that he frightened you so. Kafka would have to look you over for bruises so she could be sure, but it seemed like Blade had left quite the impression on you and your subconscious mind. A space that should have been occupied with Kafka and the fear as well as desire you felt for her.
To her delight, she was right to look after Blade. His hand gripped the doorframe, fingers tapping discontentedly against the wood as his movements halted. Any normal person would have missed the glance from the corner of Blade's eyes, first at you, then crossing Kafka’s, the light from outside the room bright and hurtful as it blinded her. And yet, she knew he’d hesitate but needed to see it with her own two eyes so she could confirm her suspicions. Even when he retreated without another second delay, hurry in his step as it echoed down the corridor, Kafka was sure now, the tell-tale signs glaringly obvious.
“Seems Bladie likes you,” she teased, fingers digging into your waist and pulling you flush against her, chest to chest. You took a nervous sip from one of the two straws, avoiding all eye contact. “I don’t mind you two becoming friends, you know?”
“He’s weird,” you mumbled while hiding behind another sip of your drink. “We’re not friends.”
“Now, now, you’re being rude to my friend. Try to get along with him, okay? He seems to really like you.”
You glanced down at her suspiciously. You were wary of her pushing you towards this connection. Wary, she was testing you, or maybe you were wary because you really didn't want to get closer to Blade. The latter amused her as much as it pleased her. “Don’t wanna…”
Kafka couldn’t help but chuckle at your childish antics. You loved trying to gain her sympathy, especially when you were scared, and she loved every last part of your easily readable personality. Even when you hated her, you knew better than to get on her bad side, and Kafka was weak to your pacification attempts. At the very least, you were thinking of her in everything you did, and she was proud of her little manipulator for pulling at her heartstrings with more ease than even her Spirit Whisper could make you compliant and cuddly. 
“It’s fine—really,” she reassured you in a gentle voice, feeling your body relax a little in her arms, even if you were still oh-so wary of her. Raising herself to her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to the corner of your mouth, startling you. However, in the dawn of still being scared of having done something to upset her, you merely huffed, turning your head away. 
Kafka wondered how you’d behave, knowing who was still standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall next to the door and listening to the conversation, having come back on quiet soles after his exit. Would you cower? Hide behind her? Apologize for being rude to Blade? Poor Bladie’s heart must have been broken all over again, yet he hadn’t left even after you called him weird.
“I don’t mind,” Kafka reiterated, pinching your cheek until you faced her again, her chance to get a proper kiss from the lips she loved so much. Sweetness spread between you two as she tasted the drink on your tongue, a surprised gasp escaping you as she bit down on the pliable muscle. The sound was enough to ruffle some feathers outside the door, the faint sound of clothes moving as Blade finally took his leave for good, unable to endure what he thought was going to happen next. 
Kafka grinned. 
She had a sudden desire to take you to the room next to Bladie’s, making you whimper and scream to give him an earful of the person he was infatuated with, destroying his idea of you and teasing his broken heart to see just how far he was willing to go to mend it this time. It was a doomed experiment, but it gave Kafka the satisfaction of getting revenge on the person who carelessly laid their hands on what belonged only to her.
“I don’t care what you two do while I’m gone. But I hope you always remember whose arms you go back to once you're done having fun, Darling.”
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bellaofthevalley · 9 months
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Stellaron Hunters: Singing Dove
Content warning: yandere themes, polyamorous relationship, reader is gender-neutral.
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It starts with a chase. 
It always starts with a chase. 
You run through the cold, deep snow. Dried leaves and twigs hiding under the snowy blanket crunch beneath your boots, and the little cracking noises they cause makes you want to cry painful, heaving sobs that shake through your frame. 
The moon hangs high in the sky, your singular source of light. You are so deep within this frozen wasteland, not even Belebog's lights show on the horizon. 
A perfect place for them to hunt you. But hunt truly is too kind of a word; a prey has at least a singular, sliver chance of survival. You are merely a toy between their clutches, ever so often placed in a new playground for their amusement, but at the end- 
You will be back with them. It is, after all, part of the script. Always, always, always- 
You stumble and fall on your hands and knees with a painful gasp, foot catching within viney branches that dig into your boots and pants. You'd been running so much, for so long, you hadn't even realised just how out of breath your poor lungs were. 
In, and out. In, and out. In, and out.
You take in one, last big breath before finally looking back to get your foot out of the vines and hopefully, with the mercy of Qlipoth the Preservation and any Aeon that will listen, escape from this hellhole- 
Only to meet two red piercing eyes staring at you from such darkness, not even the moon could disperse it. Peering, watching, waiting. 
"No!" The frightened scream tears itself out of your throat, and your lack of breath and aching foot are forgotten entirely. In the distance, among the flying crows and skittering spiders, you heard the tinkling laugh of a woman.
Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous. Everything is dangerous-
He tells you everything is dangerous as he sharpens a sword, cracks going through its cold blade like broken glass. His voice is low, but his eyes are staring straight at you. Gazing, scrutinizing, waiting. 
How many days, weeks, and months have you spent with them now? With him? You know his past by now, something he'd confided in you in the lonely, dead hours of the night, where you craved interaction even from someone like him. When he would crave interaction from you, would seek you out and hoard your time with the excuse that Kafka demanded he needed you to heal him and soothe his mara-struck mind with your singing, nimble fingers unwillingly going through his hair. 
Everything is dangerous, Bǎo bèi. You will stay here with us.
She tells you everything is dangerous without telling you. You are on her lap, so shamefully naked and exposed yet she lounges against the tub as if the world is her oyster to pick, hands on your waist and nails slightly dragging against your skin until there are raised goosebumps trailing up your body. 
It might as well be her world to rule. 
You will not leave, my darling. She says with the softest laugh, burying her pretty face in your tender throat and kissing your skin. Her perfume still clings to her skin, leaving your mind hazy and muddled- all thoughts of your burning homeland they took you from washing away until all you can think of is her, her, her. She's a devil and a devil hunter; she is a spider that has spun into a web you can see neither the start nor end of, demands your songs as if you, your songs and voice all belong to her. 
Everything is dangerous, my lovely. You will not leave, not now nor ever.
You run and run, boots so torn every twig and rock digs into your delicate skin. You are crying, too, stumbling against trees and branches. The noise that comes out of your throat is half-sob, half-prayer. Mercy, oh Aeon, grant me mercy. 
You speed past the forest. It does not matter where you are, only that you leave. There are so many snapping noises, but all of it is from your running so you- you are sure you are safe- 
No more trees, and the lights from Belebog now shine like the very stars of hope. So close now, and freedom tastes so unbelievably sweet on your tongue. You reach a hand out- 
And fall down again, staring up at the star-less sky with wide eyes and a frantic heart. 
No twig or branch made you fall. 
Spider webs did. 
The moon is so beautiful.
"The moon is so beautiful, isn't it, my darling?" 
Kafka looks down on you, kneeling down by your side. Her pretty eyes gleam in the encroaching darkness, mouth stretched into a small smile that is anything but kind. 
Yet her touch is so very gentle when she cups your face, wipes away the lone tear trickling down your cheek. She is even gentler when she leans down to kiss the corner of your lips, this time tasting your second tear. 
It makes her sigh, so awfully fond. The spider web clings to your body, crawling up your limbs. You are unaware of Blade slowly coming out of the woods, your focus entirely on Kafka. 
"You tried your very best," she croons, voice low and soft. Her smile widens, thumb swiping across your chapped lips, smoothing out the furrowed lines between your brows. "But it wasn't enough, was it? It will never be enough, either. But, oh, how beautiful you looked as you ran and ran, so fully convinced you even had a small chance of success… like a frightened rabbit. Isn't that right, Bladie?" 
Blade's silence is unsurprising, and you are glad for it as you finally descend into sobs, turning your head away from her even as her hand chases your face. All of it… was just an illusion? All of it? 
"Carry them, Bladie." Kafka orders, chuckling. She plays with your hair for a few seconds, humming before she kisses you, kisses under your lashes, one last time and gets up. "Carry them home, where they belong." 
 It ends with you back in their arms. 
It always ends with you back in their arms. 
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Masterlist.
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jifanjiang0710 · 9 months
Text
Dinner with the Stellaron Hunters
yandere kafka x reader x yandere blade
“SILVER WOLF!”
Your fists start to hurt from all the pounding. She’s locked her door again. “Time for dinner!” She can definitely hear you. Whether she responds or not is her choice.
“Boss fight!” She yells back.
“Come downstairs quickly!” Scurrying down the flight of stairs, you stop at Blade’s room. An ominous reddish glow is emitting from under the door, reeking of death… or is it your imagination? You raise your hand to knock, before a voice from behind sends chills down your spine.
“What are you doing?”
Turning to meet his scowling visage, ever-unchanging (SW likened him to an NPC), you see Blade glaring down at you, and neither of you speak.
“…dinnertime.”
He slinks off.
You groan irritably. You do everything in this house. Thankfully, Kafka is already at the table.
After a quick scan of the seating, you heave a sigh of relief. There is a seat at the table between Kafka and Blade. Thank the aeons. As you head for the spot, Silver Wolf plops herself down onto the chair in all her glory, eyes not leaving the handheld console. You stare dumbfounded for a minute, partly at the audacity, the rest a growing conflict arising from within you.
The most vexing decision of the night: sitting next to Kafka, or Blade. Only one party can be sated, and the other will then shower you with the fruits of their displeasure for the rest of the night. Tread lightly in this delicate situation.
Choose Kafka, who lets her fingers glide up your thighs, particularly when you are drinking; who whispers vile things in your ear as you try to focus instead on the noises from Silver Wolf’s console; who sometimes holds a spoon to your mouth and expects you to say ahh...
Or choose Blade, who barely tries to hide his growing fascination with you at this point; whose fiery eyes bore into you carrying a heavy sort of intensity that cannot be described; who you know has no qualms about cornering Kafka’s favourite pet and finding out just what makes you so special to her.
The purple-haired woman notices your hesitance, chuckling breathily. She takes the initiative to beckon you over, with a single curl of her fingers. You trot towards her, deeming her, just for tonight, the lesser of two evils. Then you catch sight of his gaze. It’s a warning and a threat, all expressed within a single flash of the eyes.
“What’s wrong, little one?”
“I- I….” You feel yourself starting to sweat at this minor conundrum. How can you defy a direct order from Kafka?
She sighs, evidently disappointed at your lack of decisiveness. “Oh, go on. I’m sure Bladie deserves you for just one night, with how long he has been eyeing up what’s mine.”
The tension builds, and you bite your tongue. That sentence was biting, indirectly instigating another cold war between both hunters. So, gathering up stray remnants of courage you take a seat next to him.
The atmosphere is even more strained.
“Ah…how is your hand?” You direct the question to the man sitting beside you, glare turning less pointed. “Has it healed?”
“Yeah,” SW says suddenly, accusatory. “How is your hand?”
He sighs, irked. “Still healing. Isn’t it obvious?” For it was still wrapped in bandages.
“Blade, our supply of bandages is depleting. The others need them too. Is it really necessary to cover your torso?” He can very well heal himself should the need arise, and any pretense on his part is to avoid having to game with Silver Wolf. Blade ignores you, as if you’d committed a crime against him personally.
Kafka is unusually quiet.
You chide Silver Wolf to finish off her broccoli.
“Oh dear. Little one?”
Her sudden shift of attention to you makes you jump. “Yes, Kafka?”
“Will you be a dear and run off to fetch a cloth for me? I seem to have spilt some soup onto my lap.”
Blade watches intently as you fuss over her, asking whether there are burns, if she is alright, and run off to pour another bowl for her.
His fists clench, tightening around the bowl. “That was intentional.”
“What an astute observation, Bladie. And do you keep your uninjured hand bandaged so my little one may continue clouding their pretty little head with concern for you?”
“They do not enjoy being toyed with, treated like the fragile doll you make them to be.”
“And they don’t seem to like treading on eggshells whenever you are in the vicinity either, or stared down in the way a rabid beast would reserve for its prey.”
“You think you are almighty, Kafka-”
“Oh, but I am. Everything I orchestrate, as I predict, shall come to fruition.”
“Just because you claim control over me, you will not be the most powerful, nor the most infallible. You know just as well as I do, Kafka, and even you cannot deny it. [Name] would be better off anywhere but with you.”
“And if Elio were to say otherwise? Will you continue deluding yourself in such pitiful manner?”
A sharp noise of a crack emanates as the bowl chips under his grip. “…very well.” Blade says, after a second of contemplation. He looks up at the woman opposite of him, the intensity of his gaze like piercing wind, “Let us ask Elio.”
Kafka does not answer, but the slight stiffen of her lower lip speaks volumes. She crosses her arms.
“Listen, Bladie-”
“Enough! Kafka, what did I say about commanding Blade? And Blade, that’s the third one you’ve broken this month. Please be more careful.” The two tear their gazes away from each other.
“My mistake, little one,” Kafka responds breathily, as though this matter were of minimal importance to her.
“I think I cut my finger from the shard,” says Blade.
You turn towards him, raising an eyebrow. He clears his throat, trying to appear innocuous. “…it hurts.”
“Do you need a bandage? You seem to have an abundance of it.” A petty remark by that woman, intent on having your attention solely focused on her.
He meets your eyes. “It still hurts.” On the surface, what with his deadpan expression, it sounds like a command, an order to tend to me. You hear it for what it really is, a plea for attention.
“Aw, fine. Give me your hand. Where does it hurt?”
Kafka’s turn to watch on as you examine his (supposedly) injured finger. You feel an odd sensation of impending doom…
“May I be excused?” Without giving you time to respond, the young gamer stands, tossing her plate into the sink and scampering upstairs once again. You look down and see that your own bowl has been piled suspiciously high with vegetables.
This girl… You sigh, but do not protest this time.
For the night, the Stellaron hunters disperse.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On a more wholesome note:
His phone buzzes. Fumbling a bit with the home screen, he swipes. It’s a message from Kafka.
That Woman: Kys
She receives a reply in return.
Bladie: One day I will.
‘I can only eagerly await that day’
‘As will I.’
‘You’re lying, Bladie~’
‘What.’
‘You no longer want to die, do you?’
‘Good night.’
‘Ah, don’t chicken out. They make you, for the first time in a long time, want to live. I can tell. You’re intrigued.’ ‘…’ ‘Hello?!’ ‘Leaving me on read again?’
He sets the phone down, sighing deeply.
The window shutters are half closed, swaying gently in the breeze. There is a dim starlight scattering the night sky. It reminds him of a home he had lost a long time ago. The wind picks up, blowing away a stray strand of hair off his shoulder.
He does not know how he got there, but his shadow looms over your room door. After some hesitation, he knocks.
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yandere-romanticaa · 5 months
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The very concept of fear, while not liked amongst living creatures, is still very much necessary. After all, if you see a predator coming straight towards you, the correct thing to do is either run or hide. If you try to fight it the chances of actually living to tell the tale are slim to none.
That same concept does not apply to Kafka.
Frankly, she does not understand that dreadful feeling. She has heard people describing it as ice creeping up your spine and taking over your body while increasing your pulse, forcing you to move but your body never seems to cooperate.
In turn, that is one of the reasons why she joined the Stellaron Hunters.
Elio had plans, great plans. And Kafka was following them to a T.
But the universe likes to play games. And her new favorite thing to play with became you.
The woman took a morbid interest in you, just something silly to toy with to pass the time. She adored dressing you up and even going as far to do your makeup, her own personal little doll. She would have you cling onto her arm as her jacket was sprawled across your shoulders, marking you successfully as her own. She liked that, Kafka realized. Her smell clinging to your own, marring it with her endless desire. The way in which she would touch you sent shivers down your spine - gentle but cruel, the woman was a walking contradiction.
That was how she spent most of her free time, with you by her side. Those times were blissful and sweet, like a delicate candy just waiting to be unwrapped and made to be enjoyed.
Nothing stays the same though. Be it good or bad.
And Kafka needed to be reminded of that fact.
There she stood, for the first time ever frozen in her spot. Monsters were crawling everywhere, their sharp teeth and loud howls forcing ripples through the air as they sensed fresh blood, your blood. And there you were, on the ground, wounded, alone.
Scared.
Was this fear? Was this the feeling Kafka was aspiring to have?
She was not sure whether or not she wanted to congratulate herself on a job well done or to sink deep into the ground.
People described fear in many different ways and she realized that in that moment, everyone was correct in their own way. It was both ice and frost, darkness and confusion.
A brutal realization that no matter how powerful, you were human. She was human.
Kafka felt her heart swell a little at that thought. Perhaps you were more than just a toy. Why else was she pulling her weapons and slaughtering the hungry beasts which stood in her way?
All she could focus on was you. The way in which you shook like a small leaf - small, defenceless. Weak. You needed Kafka by your side.
The Stellaron Hunter approached you carefully, specks of blood staining her crisp white shirt as she outstretched her hand towards you in a gentleman like fashion. You took it and without warning, she pressed you close to her body. Kafka held you tightly as her purple eyes glimmered with madness and wonder.
You needed her, that much was true.
But, perhaps, she needed you just as much.
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sahsrau
Kafka
it was a feeling unlike any other, it was not the fear she had been desiring for so long, but something far greater. It was like a divine force was watching over her, guiding her, appearing suddenly as she began to move through the space station.
Then it spoke, praising her as she used her ultimate, an otherworldly, yet comforting voice. It speaks up a few more time as it guides her to her goal. She allows it to choose which vessel will be used and it's name, Stelle. Once it's formed, she puts the stellaron inside of the vessel, then...
...it's gone. The feeling is gone and the force has attached itself to the vessel. A shame, really, there was nothing remotely comparable to that feeling and she has no idea what it truly was. No matter, she still has a script to follow and there was no mention of that feeling within it, so there was no need to pursue.
And yet, she still craved it deeply
----
She found herself exploring the xianzhou luofu, yet nobody seemed to acknowledged her presence outside of combat, nor did they seem to see those who fought beside her in combat. A strange group, a member of the masked fools, a martial artist with a robotic arm, a suspicious merchant, and herself.
It all goes against Elio's script, but she can't seem to bring herself to care. That feeling and that divine force has returned, and it guides her, it keeps making her stronger, it's making them all stronger. The voice has charmed her and she can't bring herself to care about anything else in that moment, she want's that divine feeling to remain.
----
"Finally, Argenti's build is done, now i got to change my team around"
For a brief moment, she was unsure what the voice meant by that, but only a moment, then it was all ripped away.
The feeling was gone, the divine force was gone, the voice was gone. All that remained were memories.
She found herself where the script said she was supposed to be, her head containing memories of herself both doing as the script command and fighting with that divine force, as though she had been in both places at once. Was any of it real? Which one had actually occurred? Had they both? Nothing about it made sense, but it didn't have to, she got to experience that feeling again with no consequence, that was all that mattered.
And now, no matter the questions it raised, she craved to experience it all again.
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harmonysanreads · 1 year
Text
You tell Yandere!Kafka about how she's insane, how wrong this all is, how she shouldn't do the things she does for you, how unhealthy her feelings for you are, how she's hurting innocent people, how screwed up this whole arrangement is—she holds a speck of dust to say that is how much she cares, and then blows it away.
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yanderehsr · 10 months
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Good Day.. I had this thought in my head all day and I wanted to hear your take on it: Yandere platonic stellaron hunters (Blade Kafka and silverwolf) over a toddler reader. Maybe Elio foresaw Reader being vital to their future plans. Of course Elio just dumps the reader to kafka and they’re all inexperienced with taking care of an actually baby so chaos ensues. I thought of a scenario for each character:
Blade looking for vengeance and just being very blood thirsty but Toddler reader just gives him puppy dog eyes and he just melts:
Blade: All must pay the pric..
Toddler Reader: Dada (does a spit bubble)
Blade(looking shock forgetting for a moment about his vengeance): Can you.. did you just.. can you repeat that..
Silverwolf tired of babysitting toddler reader and listening to baby shark all day long. She gets a genius idea
Silverwolf(hacking the herta space station just to play baby shark throughout the station): If I have to suffer this I’m taking Herta with me!
Toddler Reader(tries to sing baby shark)
Herta: Just shut it all down! (Slowly loosing her mind)
Kafka irresponsibly have toddler reader attach to a baby carrier with headphones on as she goes to the luofu for her mission.
(Kafka shooting at everyone with her guns):
(Reader just chilling on her baby carrier as she listen to Cocomelon)
(Cloud Knights shocked to see a baby on kafka): She kidnaps babies too?!!!
-Sorry for the long request, I just had to get it out of my head. Thanks for reading and I hope you can give me your take on this dysfunctional family.
No need to apologize, and finally Silver Wolf is requested🥰
Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour
Out of the three it is only Kafka that wants to raise a child, she finds you cute and that is all it takes for her to be interested, she takes you everywhere she goes, to any mission. Of course she wouldn't take you out to a fight, she doesn't want you hurt.
Silver Wolf takes a bit longer to warm up to you, she is awkward, she doesn't really open up to other people. She tries to play video games with you, it doesn't go well. Herta amd Screwllum are surprised when there is a baby with Silver Wolf in the simulated universe
Blade takes the longest, he doesn't want to raise you, but he grows attached and that is enough to make him grow obsessed, he takes you everywhere, it has started a fight or two between him and Kafka about who gets to have you. He even takes you to his battles, he is confident that he can protect you.
Just don't try and leave them when you grow up, they have frown to attached to you, they might not even let Elio use you to whatever you were supposed to do.
"Awwww, look at them, they are just so cute"
"Keep your hands off, it's my turn to watch them"
"Let's just go, they can continue the fight without us"
There we go, three chaotic caretakers, and I love them all three🥰
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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months
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The End.
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Yan Kafka x F Reader.
Synopsis: Kafka always sits in the front row, despite being part of the show herself.
Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, thoughts of violence, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.
Word Count: 1k.
Ten Songs Like This Piece:
Breezeblocks by alt-J
Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich (feat. The Dixie String Quartet)
Swan Lake by HAUSER
Claus by Los Tres
Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray
Lie by BTS
She’s My Collar by Gorillaz (feat. Kali Uchis)
Cha Cha by Freddie Dredd
Michelle by Sir Chloe
MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) - SATAN’S EXTENDED VERSION by Lil Nas X
*~*~*~*
The roses are wilting.
It was destiny, fate. Such pretty things never last forever, after all, even if the entire universe wished otherwise. One way or another, they are meant to fall, like how the sun drops below where anyone can see it, being replaced with the moon, and vice versa. They fall deep, deeper than hell itself, and no one can pick them back up, unless one would be inclined to make a pact with the devil himself, doing horrendous things in his name. But Kafka has already committed such sins, so why deny doing so any longer? It is who she is. It is who you are, to be entangled in her lies and be forced to dance and to sing and to act.
With two gloved hands, she picks up the vase, spilling out the moldy water and the dying roses, the roses she got for you after you sang so well at the opera house, looking so beautiful, into the trash can underneath your makeup vanity, where little clumps of hair and emptied products always meet their end.
She’ll get you a new bouquet later. A new vase too. Perhaps instead of white roses you would like red ones instead? Kafka knows that this vase is cheap too, from one of your fellow divas, whose high notes are not as high as yours and her costumes not as elaborate or as elegant as yours.
“I honestly don’t see why you even try to befriend any of them, darling. They are all envious harpies. They can’t hold a candle to anything you do.”
You are not here, but Kafka’s mouth always has a mind of its own, so it spins lies even when your delicate, lovely ears are not in the general vicinity. Not that she minds it. But yours is what she is quite more so than trifles with, because yours is carefully controlled by her and her alone, and you, as always, don’t get a say. It’s a sort of hypocrisy, Kafka thinks, but she doesn't mind that either.
If she has to, she’ll even sew your mouth shut, your ears shut, your eyes shut, if that is what it takes for you to stay with her. She doubts it would ever come to that, though, because you are always too fragile and too trusting to tell the difference between an Iago and a Desdemona. But the latter role would much better suit you, her little flower, her princess.
You are so precious, but also a treasure prying eyes will always want to touch and see and hear. Kafka would, in all honesty, love to cut their hands and tongues off, if it did not ruin the carefully crafted image she made just for you. Maybe later, though, when all the stage lights are off.
“Lady Macbeth, hmm?” She murmurs.
She disagrees with the role you were given entirely. But, you were not one to stand up for yourself, so Kafka let it go. 
“You really ought to leave this business soon, dearest.” Kafka looks around, her arms crossed, not impressed with the room you were given in the slightest. “You can always just come with me.” She meant it. “Imagine all the sights you would see. All the food you would eat. All the gifts I would be so happy to give you. All the hugs and kisses you would receive from me. Everything… just think about it.”
She could imagine it herself. It is not hard, really, for the mind to reject all sense of logic and bow down to the whim of what is known as human emotions, mortal joys, woes, desires, wants, and needs. She could imagine sitting you on her lap as the ship jumps to the next world she will have to visit, telling you stories of the past, present, and future, as you look on with amazement. You don’t do that anymore, now. She would do anything to see it come back. She would steal a crown and place it on your head, though you having the genuine article does not make you any stronger. If anything, perhaps it would make you weaker to her whims.
“Imagine that…” She sighs, closing her eyes as she smiles. “We can go to Penacony. Your dreams would come true there if I cannot make them true myself. You can sleep on beds worth more than this entire opera house. If only you would let me. I know it would make you happy. I know it would make me happy. So why wouldn’t it make you?”
She would listen to your ultimate pains, and your ultimate wishes, and act accordingly. She loved you. You will too, again. It is only a matter of time, isn’t it? Yes, Kafka thinks, it is fate. 
Kafka always sits in the front row of the theater.
It does not matter whether or not she purchased the tickets for it, the seat, or the show soon to come to fruition. No one dares talk back to her, even security. She finds comfort in that. No one gets in the way of her having the chance to see you. Better yet, no one else sits in the front row when she is present.
So, she watches, one of her legs crossed over the other, her eyes never blinking. During interludes she likes to adjust her makeup accordingly, painting on another shade of crimson to her lips. Art comes in many forms, after all.
Kafka told you that once. As always, you listened dutifully as she taught you to be.
She taught you many things, not just that. She taught you how to read constellations. She helped you learn her vocabulary in the books she gave you, often long fairytales or poems. She preferred it that way when you used to be so eager to have someone be friendly to you and not want to simply use you for their own amusement, not wanting to throw you out of the opera house altogether.
The opera house may rot after it goes up in flames, in the future, if things go her way as it always does, but she’ll stay to watch it all, to take you in as you cry and as she shushes you. She’ll be happy. Maybe you will be too, for her. It matters how good your performance is, if you even want to act anymore, after all.
The lights dim, and she shows her pearl-white teeth as she grins.
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limerenceheart · 7 months
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Hello Jade! May I please request yandere!Blade with a f!stellaron hunter!reader who's ironically helpful and polite to people despite the criminal records? Like if you don't see her criminal records people would've thought that she's a model citizen.
Thank you and have a nice day/night!
hello! i wrote this in third person since it is blade's reaction to y/n rather than vice versa.
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blade never liked being around you.
others percept your mannerism as natural but knowing your true identity couldn't help but remind him of kafka's persona.
almost like you have copied and pasted her with your own personal touch, kafka managed to always be alluring but you managed to become the girl next door.
a woman that anyone would trust.
so blade couldn't help but to turn another cheek to the whole thing out of pure disinterest because he couldn't stop you from doing whatever. you were a stellaron hunter, your mentor were kafka, not him.
but he couldn't help but wonder why anyone would play a charade like that considering the amount of energy required, you never targeted anyone specify like the wealthy or the good looking.
what were you playing at?
so on a fateful day, when blade was stuck to babysit you, the man couldn't help but ask.
"oh, their reaction is more interesting when you show their true colours to them."
blade became stiff for a second, wondering if he have misheard the statement but when he glanced back to still see you casually inhaling a vape confirmed everything.
it was not a fidget of his imagination.
"don't you agree? blade."
the question along with the ring of smoke that you exhaled in his direction sent a chill down his back.
were you more of a threat than kafka?
but why did he care?
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