Yandere!Gale X Reader Please Don't Read This If You Are Uncomfortable With The Yandere! Tw: Obsessive

Yandere Jinshi x chaotic reader

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy, persecution Enjoy reading! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Everything highlighted in purple is Jinshi’s thoughts.

You constantly forget to bow to important figures, trip over your own feet, ask awkward questions... and laugh just a little too loudly. “They keep breaking protocol. I remember every mistake they make, yet somehow... I don’t feel annoyed.”

He finds himself listening for your footsteps. When you're in the corridor — he knows. When you're not — he knows that too. He's started noticing even when you're late by just a few minutes. “I should be focusing on the reports. Where are they? Who’s delayed them? Why don’t I know?”

Sometimes you leave little things behind in his office — a handkerchief, a ribbon, a feather. He keeps them. All of them. Hides them in his desk drawer. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he opens it just to look. “Their scent is almost gone. I should ask them for another handkerchief. Or... make them forget they ever left it here. That way, it’ll be mine.”

His jealousy is subtle. Almost invisible. You laugh with someone else. Thank another man for helping you. Bow just a little lower than usual. Jinshi only smiles. “I’ll remember his face. His name. His position. If he ever hurts them... or if they look at him too often...”

Sometimes you bring him strange snacks: “Try it, you’ll like it!” He doesn’t know where you find them. He doesn’t usually eat food like that — too unusual. But he accepts. Eats every last crumb. “Too sweet. But... if it’s from them, I’ll get used to it. I'll teach my body to crave their taste.”

“You're too perfect. It must be so boring. No chaos in your life at all,” you say with a laugh. “You are my chaos. And you don’t even realize how deeply you’ve already taken root in my life. All that’s left is to convince you to stay.”

Jinshi isn’t watching you. Of course not. He’s merely checking on the state of the garden. As always.

The fact that you happen to be there at the same time — a coincidence. Just like how he knows exactly who you're speaking to, what you're saying, and for how long. The physician needed help gathering herbs. Out of everyone in the inner courtyard, he chose you.

Laughter. Light and clear, like bells in the spring breeze. He loves your laughter. Usually.

Right now — he does not.

Right now, he wants to crush that sound in the throat of the one who drew it out.

Jinshi smiles. He approaches silently.

"Ah, you're here. How fortunate," he says, as if he hadn’t heard their entire conversation.

He doesn't spare the physician a glance. His eyes are only on you.

"I came for you. There's something… important."

You look up at him. Embarrassed. Offering a shy, awkward smile. But you follow, ready to do almost anything he asks. Because here, his word is law.

You belong to this place. To the harem. To his order. To his care. To his gaze. If anyone dares reach for you — they must be ready to lose a hand.

Jinshi gestures for you to go ahead. Once you've disappeared around the corner, he finally turns to the physician still frozen in place.

"In the future, please… delegate such tasks elsewhere." His smile remains flawless. "They are responsible for other, far more important duties. I'm sure you understand. After all, you seem to be a very busy man yourself."

And if not — Jinshi will make sure he becomes one

and in return you give hell : death! geto suguru x f!reader

"death is certain, but killing doesn't have to be ugly."

DARK CONTENT, MDNI ༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚ alternative universe, no sex, stalking, blackmail, manipulation, jealousy, envy, obsession, yandere themes, noncon foreplay, possessiveness, major character death, deadly sickness, pet names (little one, my love, beautiful), reader is a nurse for context — 3.5k words

summary: inspired by the fairytale death's messengers, you find a man, wounded beyond mortal comprehension, at your doorstep and nurse him back to health.

a/n: part of @ljubimaya's 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁

It all begins with a stranger laying at your doorstep, looking on the verge of death. 

His body is umoving, wrapped in the kind of silence that only the most severe of injuries can bring. A man cloaked in black, fallen to the ground as though the world had dealt him its harshest blow. His long, dark hair clings to his skin, sticky with sweat and grime. His face,  pale and sharp like the edge of a knife, is twist in pain.

Something about him seems out of this world, and yet, he looks so very human in his pain. Truth be told, all you yearn for is a warm bath after your draining nightshift, but instead there is another stray cat at your doorstep—desperate for the tender care of your hands. 

The people in your town are not only used to your kindness, they even take advantage of it—which is exactly why this man had been left at your door in the dead of night. 

You can’t refuse. It is in your kind-hearted nature to try, to heal, to save.

Kneeling beside him, you brush damp strands of his long, dark hair from his face, revealing features so flawless they seem carved by ancient stone masters. Despite his seeming strength—broad shoulders, a body hardened by something far beyond mere labour—he looks fragile. A strange dichotomy. 

“Hey,” you murmur, with your shaking fingers reaching for his ice-cold hand. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes hold an eerie emptiness as they flutter open to meet your curious ones. Their colour, rare as musgravite jewels, only alienate the man further. Subconsciously, you lean in, searching the depth of his dark stare, yet he was the one who found answers: Deciphering your entire life story with one glance alone.

“Help me,” he whispers, his voice rough yet strangely melodic. He tries to sit up, but slumps back down with a low groan. “Who did this to you?” you asked carefully , curiously. His injuries are unlike any you have ever seen before, the cuts too deep, the bruises too dark. He gives a low chuckle which quickly turns into a cough. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, little one.” Despite the sharp edges of his situation, he sounds oddly amused.

“I…” You looked around helplessly. “Allow me,” you start a sentence you leave unfinished, the pain you are about to cause something you can’t prepare him for either way as you muster up the strength to help him rise to his feet.

His lips curl into a faint smirk, entertained by this adorable little mortal trying her best to help him. “You’re braver than you look.” Yet a wince quickly follows his mockery once you slip an arm under his shoulders to help him up. His body is heavy against yours, lean and strong but cold as ice. 

It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders once he finally rests on your couch.

─── ♱

For days, he stays in your little haven. Basking in your tender care as you nurse him through the worst of it, never daring to ask questions. Something tells you it is best not to find out certain details of the world.

However, it is difficult to ignore the way his presence lingers in the room, like something else, something darker. The air seems colder around him, the shadows in the room longer and sharper. 

But you ignore it all. After all, he needs you.

Eventually, you come to know his name—Suguru, he said, though it rolled off his tongue with a strange weight that made you think it wasn’t the whole truth. He speaks little about himself, and when he does, his words carry an air of melancholy, as if he was recounting memories from a lifetime far from yours.

And yet, as you press a damp cloth to his forehead, your eyes lingering a moment too long on the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his jaw, you couldn’t deny there was more to this. A pull, as if his very presence beckoned you closer.

You can’t help but notice the strength in his body, the way his muscles flex beneath his skin when he moves, the quiet beauty in his features when he sleeps. 

In those tranquil moments, you find yourself watching him more than you should. There is an unexpected grace to him. It’s impossible not to stare at his full lashes or his ebon hair spilling over his shoulders.

But there is more to him. He carries an aura that makes the air feel heavier, making your skin prickle with unease. You tell yourself it was the mystery of him, the way he seems to exist just outside the realm of normalcy.

─── ♱

When he finally recovers enough to leave, he hesitates on your doorway, his tall frame casting a large shadow over you. “Do you know who I am?” he asks, his tone low and solemn.

You know his name. But it doesn’t appear to be of importance at that moment. So you shake your head, hesitating momentarily before you speak. “No. Does it matter?”

His lips curl into a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He takes you by surprise the moment his cold lips linger against your forehead, fingertips encasing your chin to peer into your gentle eyes one more time. “I am Death,” he says simply. “The end of all things. The one who comes for every soul.”

You stare at him, your mind scrambling to process his words. The nervous chuckle escaping you is a reaction Geto is already used to. 

“That’s… not funny.”

“I am not joking.”

The look in his eyes tells you is earnest. Upon which your body subconsciously shifts into flight mode, with small steps taken backwards and away from the man you come to care for. “If you’re Death, then why are you here? Why did you need my help?”

For the first time his expression softens, just a fraction. “I was careless. Even Death is not invincible.”

You can‘t seem to find a reply for his nonsense.

“You saved me,” he continues, “and for that, I owe you a debt. I cannot undo what I am, but I can promise you this: I will not take you prematurely, and notwithout warning. When your time comes, I will send my messengers first, to prepare you.”

There was no kindness in his voice, no warmth. It was a statement, a fact, nothing more.

You nod slowly, though you’re not even sure why you offer him as much. You thought much of Geto, but didn’t expect him to be mentally unstable.

That day, he left his first curse with you. A small, deformed creature clinging to your shoulder, allowing Death to keep an eye on his chosen one.

─── ♱

Months passed, the seasons cycle through and the strange encounter becomes a brushed away dream. But the memory of his touch—cold and consuming—lingers. Even as you return to your life, throwing yourself back into work, an eeriness remains, like something shares your life force and weighs you down. 

You try to distract yourself from the growing discomfort, attempt to focus on healing others and ignoring the strange pull that lingers inside your chest.

But Death did not forget you.

When spring gives way to summer for a third time, you meet him—a kind man, with soft eyes and a gentle touch, someone who brings you comfort in the simplicity of his affection. He holds your hand with care, kisses your forehead with a tenderness that soothes any ache. His words, though few, are always full of warmth. 

It feels like a reward for the care you give to others, for your patience and your love. Maybe this was your chance at true happiness. 

And for a while, you allow yourself to be happy. You allow yourself to believe that maybe there can be a future with him, a simple life. With your new love, you feel safe, content. His touch is warm, reassuring, and his presence a balm to your soul.

It drives Death to madness. 

His jealousy surges through his very being, twisting the air around him until it becomes suffocating. How can you moved on so easily? Why are you giving his gift away to another man? You belong to him. 

Maybe promises are made to be broken, Suguru concludes, as his sanity boils away while witnessing you giving yourself to another.

Death knows no surrender. From that night on, he is there, always just out of sight. You catch glimpses of him in reflections, feel his presence in the cold that settles around you in the dead of night. He doesn’t speak, but you know it is him. 

Death. 

Watching. 

Waiting.

He has been patient enough. It is time for you to come to him, to remember who you are truly meant to be with. 

He sends a second curse. A cough. Harmless at first, just a light tickle in your throat, nothing alarming. So you dismiss it, believing it is simply a sign of the summer heat or the impeding change of the seasons. But as the days pass it grows worse. You find yourself coughing more, unable to breathe properly, your chest tightening with each passing hour as though something was pressing down on your lungs. 

It isn’t a cold. It isn’t something you can just sleep off. Something is wrong.

“Do you love him?” 

A deep voice often asks in your dreams. The question rings in your memory over and over again. Something about the tone was eerily familiar yet unknown all at once.

The sensation of someone watching you—the same suffocating, chilling presence you have tried so hard to forget—returns. Creeping into your life, even as you fight it with all your strength. 

He stalks you at night, a shadow that seems to grow stronger with every passing day. His jealousy consumes him, his need for you becoming a twisted obsession. And even while your lover comes to you, offering comfort and warmth, Suguru is there, lurking in the background, claiming you in ways that no mortal can ever comprehend.

You begin to distance yourself from your fiance, afraid that the illness might be contagious. Retreating into the silence of your home, shielding society from your misery, you isolate yourself. 

The cough, now violent, rackes your body.

By autumn, a third curse has joined. A fever that seeps into your veins, leaving you bedridden on your worst days. You visited doctors, tried medication, but nothing seems to help. Your body grows weaker, your once-bright eyes dull through exhaustion and pain.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape it.

You can’t escape him.

You wake in the middle of the night to find him standing at the foot of your bed, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. “Are you truly here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, only tilting his head, as if studying you. His presence is suffocating, a reminder of the mortality you can’t escape. You hate him for it, and yet, part of you longs for the man you once cared for, the man who looked so vulnerable in your arms.

"You’re unwell, aren’t you?" His voice is smooth, deep, exactly like the one that haunts your memory.

You nod hesitantly. “I’ve been sick for weeks… I’m not sure what’s going on.”

His smile deepens in faux-compassion, an expression that makes your blood run cold. "I can help with that, my dear."

Though, before you can respond, he disappears, lost in the shadows. But his words linger in your mind like a curse. 

─── ♱

Your final scene begins.

By now you are barely hanging on. The fever consumes you, leaving you delirious and weak.The wish of experiencing another Christmas seems like an impossible dream, your apartment is a cold, abandoned place. A mirror of your body, devoid of any love and comfort. 

And as you lie there, weak and frail, your mind begins to fill with dreams—no, not dreams, not anymore.

Death visits uninvited, when you are too weak to stop him. Night after night, you awake to the feeling of a cold touch on your skin, a whisper in your ear sweet like poison, the unmistakable presence of Suguru. His lips brush against your neck, his hands caress your fevered body, and all the while, his voice murmurs in that low, dangerous tone.

"My love... my beautiful, fragile love. Soon, I will no longer be a shadow to you. Soon our flesh shall embrace and we shall be as one.”

It drives you insane. You want to scream, want to beg him to leave you in peace, but the words won’t come. Instead, you awake again, breathless and panicked, the sensation of his touch lingering on your skin like a phantom ache.

Whenever your frantic eyes search the room, you find no sign of him. No shadow, no dark figure standing by your bed. And yet, you can feel him. He is there, in your bones, chilling you to your very core.

The cough that started in summer leads to your grand finale in the depth of winter, when the world grows cold and lifeless.

The night before Christmas, the fever burns like wildfire. Each breath feels like a battle, your body wracked with shivers that no blanket may calm. In your hopelessness, you think of him—the man you once nursed back to health. Death. And in your fevered delirium, you curse him.

That’s when he returns.

The air grows still, unnaturally so. Shadows gather, thick and impenetrable, until they shape into a figure at the edge of your bed. Him.

“My love,” he nearly purrs, his voice laced with something dark and possessive. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating, you can’t help but shrink back into your bed.

“You should have known better than to entertain another,” Death muses, his tone soft, almost sweet, yet dipped in venom. “Did you think I would not see? Did you think I would let another have you?”

Tears dance along your lash line, your head shakes softly from left to right until you feel dizzy. “I didn’t... I wasn’t… You promised me—”

“Shh.” He is beside you now, his cold fingers brushing against your burning cheek. “It doesn’t matter, my dear. You’re mine. You always have been.” 

The chill of his touch feels like relief, one that you can’t refuse but lean into and yet it sends a shiver of fear through you. His gaze lingers on you, drinking in your frailty, the way your body trembles, the way your chest heaves with laboured breaths. It is as though every part of you—the sickness, the weakness—was a testament to his power over you.

You make him feel mighty.

He leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath against your face. His lips curve into a wicked smile, that when you come to realise that he is overjoyed. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. This very moment is Death’s personal heaven.

"I’ve waited so long," Suguru whispers, his voice low and dripping with dark affection. "So long to see you this way, fragile, weak… yearning for me."

His lips press to your neck, icy and unrelenting, stealing the warmth from your skin with each display of affection. His hands claim every inch of you that monkey dared to taint with his mortal hands. 

The tension between you and Suguru grows unbearable. You want to fight him off, want to yell at him, want to break free, but every time you try, his strength overwhelms you. 

He is Death, after all, and you are nothing.

"Please," you gasp, voice weakening beneath his kisses. "I don’t want to die. Not yet."

"You’re already dying, darling," he whispers in return. "But don’t worry. I’ll be with you. Every step of the way." His thumb traces your jawline, wiping away a tear you haven’t realised had fallen. You were already drowning in the cold pull of him, in the overpowering grip of death. 

Life has no meaning, but your death shall.

Your body can no longer fight, can no longer resist him. Weak hands try to paw him away, yet to Death it was but a featherlight caress against his chest—enticing, pitiful.

The cold seeps through your figure as he finds refuge between your thighs, to press his groin against your near-lifeless form. His kisses are unrelenting, reaching down to the valley of your breasts with a tenderness that sends chills down your spine. His hands roam, claim, tear at you with an icy grip as he holds you firmly beneath him. 

"You look so beautiful, my love," Suguru praises in deep satisfaction, his voice softer now, almost affectionate. "So close to me," a sighed moan vibrates against your skin as terror grips you tighter upon the realisation of something hard grinding against your stiff body.

“You called for me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice a cruel mockery of tenderness. “And I  listened to your command. Now I’ll take you with me-” he pants, clearly strained from shamelessly moving against you. 

Tears run free as you stare up at him, his smile tender and twisted all at once. “Please,” you whispered. “Don’t.”

He grasps your wrist in his hold, keeping you wide open while his face hovers dangerously close to yours, black strands cascading like curtains as his figure dwarves yours. 

“Have I not sent you one messenger after another?” he seethes with terrible hunger. “Did the cough not render your mortal body weak? Did not fever come and strike you, and shake you, and throw you down? Did you not feel a heavy burden on your shoulder the moment I left? During the night, did you not lie there beside me already, begging for me to come to you?”

He releases you from his bruising grip, his fingertips trace the shape of your lips instead. “You are mine,” he said, his voice a dark promise. “Now and forever.”

His presence is suffocating, his touch commanding, and as his hand slid down to your chest, his fingers digging into your skin, you feel something inside you break.

His lips hover over your neck, just above where the pulse still weakly beats. "This is my love," he murmurs. You can feel the cold of his breath against your skin, a prelude to the final moment. Tears won’t stop streaming down your face, strained cries escape your dry lips and through it all, Suguru whispers nothing but his sick testament of devotion into your skin.

The words hit you like a hammer. "Shh," he cooed. "It’s time." In an instant, his lips press against your skin. Your vision blurs as his kisses continue, the weight of your body dragging you down.

With a deep, longing kiss, Suguru steals your life force: allowing the cold to fill your very being. 

It is unbearable.

As though your body is being turned to ice from the inside out, each kiss a freezing touch that steals the warmth from your blood, the fire of your soul. Your body goes limp as the last of your strength slips away. His kisses trail down across your chest, each one leaving an imprint of icy darkness that consumes you. 

And in that very moment, you feel the coldest, deepest part of him—pressing against your lips, stealing the last of your breath. Your body grows still, your pulse fades, and then, just as everything seems to fall into darkness—there is a sudden, jarring pull. Something inside you is being torn away, your very essence ripped from your body.

Your soul is leaving you. No, Death forces it to leave.

It turns into an orb—a pale, glowing sphere that hovers before him. His eyes gleam with victory, a sickened joy in his expression, as he reaches out, slowly, almost lovingly, to take it. Cradling you in his palm like his most prized possession.

With a swift motion you’re gone. Swallowed whole, consumed entirely as Suguru licks his lips.

You are his. All of you. For eternity.

His eyes fall shut for a moment, savouring the feeling of you—now part of him. He had claimed you in the most intimate way possible, and you would never be free again.

"Forever," he whispers, his voice filled with dark pleasure. "You’re mine. My beautiful, fragile pet. Forever."

Suguru sits back on your bed, a triumphant sigh ringing into the silence. He waited so long for this, for the day when you would finally be his. Now, he can feel you inside him, feel the warmth of your soul, your essence, your pain eternally bonded to him.

He can’t wait to let you out for your future play dates.

And as your empty body lies before him, still and cold, Suguru smiles—sick, twisted, and overjoyed. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lips. “Even in death,” he finalises, before crashing his lips into yours one more time.

Forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

Druids are the most cunning in the camp. They often turn into animals. You can't resist cuddling their cute little faces. They get nose kisses and ear scratches. Sometimes you let them sleep next to you. Everyone else in the camp looks with envy at the arrogant predators who are constantly taking you away.

(Gale will not give up until he has turned over all the libraries of the world in search of a potion or spell that turns a person into an animal. Perhaps he will forget to find a way to get back in advance. But as long as you scratch his cat ears, he won't complain )

Oh God. I love him

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy (nothing special anymore)

Part one, Part two

The Letter

"New day – new achievements," you thought as you stepped into the pharmacy at the start of the day. Maomao greeted you. Jinshi and Gaoshun were there as well. You flashed a sly smile at everyone present. Today, you were going to do something that would change your friends' lives forever.

The presence of the harem overseer today was nothing unusual. Once again, Maomao was assisting him with an investigation. You didn't bother with the details. Their cases usually involved deaths and had a rather gloomy air about them.

Maomao was silently jotting down notes when Jinshi, who had been watching her, decided to break the silence. "Are you always this serious?" he asked with a faint smirk.

You perked up your ears.

"Unlike some people, I prefer to work rather than waste time on idle chatter," Maomao replied without looking up.

Jinshi chuckled. "Maybe you should finally try taking a break? They say it helps keep you from going insane with your own thoughts," he mused before shifting his attention to you and winking. Your breath hitched. He smugly thought himself charming for managing to fluster you without even trying.

But you weren’t thinking about him at all. You were busy coming up with a name for the kitten they would surely get once they ended up together.

"Better to go mad from thoughts than from stupidity."

You barely hold back a laugh, covering your face with the wide sleeve of your robe. Watching them is better than any romance novel all the harem girls are obsessed with these days.

Maomao notices your strange expression. She’s about to ask if you’re feeling alright but gets distracted by a servant entering the pharmacy. Not the one you had secretly made arrangements with the day before. But in his hands is the letter.

So, everything should be fine… Right?

No.

He hands the letter to you. The letter that was meant for Maomao.

"This is for you," the servant says obligingly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, alarmed, trying to send him a desperate signal with your twitching eye in a Morse code that has yet to be invented.

But the man nods coolly, shoves the letter into your hand, and leaves—abandoning you to the hell of your own making.

"It must be something important," Maomao says, setting her work aside as she approaches you with interest.

"Oh. No. I'm sure it's something silly," you laugh nervously, trying to hide the letter. But Jinshi gently—yet insistently—plucks it from your grasp.

"I shall read it!" he declares grandly and begins reciting the love letter aloud.

You are utterly mortified, wishing you could burn to ashes on the spot.

"…You have captured my heart."

Jinshi finishes with far less enthusiasm than he started.

"An anonymous love confession," Maomao summarizes dryly.

"Who wrote this?!" Jinshi exclaims, unusually agitated.

"Why are you so flustered?" Maomao glares at him from under her lashes, looking as if she's already considering which poison could take him out without raising suspicion. "Were you planning to confess yourself?"

"I just want to know who dared to write this to my— I mean, our… dear acquaintance," Jinshi barely corrects himself, too upset to choose his words carefully.

"It’s probably just a mistake," you blurt out in panic. Because if Maomao decides that this letter was meant for you from Jinshi… your days are numbered.

"This could be a conspiracy," Maomao concludes, finding her own logic perfectly reasonable.

"A conspiracy?!"

"Yes. To lure them into a meeting and rob them. Or interrogate them. She's connected to you, after all."

At this point, Gaoshun decides to step in.

"I still think… it's just a letter."

You're this close to bursting into tears. Here he is—your savior, the most reasonable of men. But, of course, no one except you is paying him any attention.

"We should interrogate that servant."

"We’ll wait for the sender to reveal themselves."

"NO ONE is going to reveal themselves! Because this was obviously not meant for me!" you shout at them in pure desperation.

The two paranoid lunatics finally fall silent. But not for long.

"Fine. But I’m still going to keep an eye on you. For your own safety," Jinshi says, reaching out in an attempt to touch your face.

A loud slap echoes through the pharmacy. Maomao has smacked his hand away. You feel your soul leave your body.

"Watch over them? What are you, some kind of pervert? I will be watching you—to make sure you don’t do anything stupid," she declares, wrapping her arms around you protectively, shielding you from the dangerous man.

"Enough!" Gaoshun’s patience finally snaps.

This time, the sheer authority in his voice forces the pair to pay attention. The room settles into silence.

"I’ll take the letter to confirm whether it was truly delivered to the right place. You all—get back to work. We don’t have all day, Master Jinshi."

Before leaving, Gaoshun casts a disapproving look your way.

You realize—he knows. You don’t have to worry. He’s got your back. But that doesn’t make you feel any less mortified. You should get him a gift to thank him for the trouble. Maybe then, the emperor will take pity on you and have you executed for something.

"Haha… funny how these things happen," you laugh nervously.

Neither Maomao nor Jinshi are willing to let you go just yet. They seat themselves beside you, one on each side, and begrudgingly return to work.

"The letter idea wasn’t so great after all," you admit to yourself in silent defeat.

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: possessive behavior, eunuch-related themes, stupid funny youth ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Part one, Part two

Misunderstanding

It was nearing lunchtime. Maomao finally decided to take a break. She set the box down on the table, wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, and glanced around in search of you. You were nearby, carefully arranging ingredients in their proper places. She wanted to call out to you to invite you to eat together, but she didn’t get the chance.

The front door swung open, and Jinshi glided in as gracefully as a butterfly, with his indispensable assistant at his side. To Maomao’s displeasure, the eunuch immediately captured your attention. You greeted the men politely, offering them a gentle smile. Maomao clenched her teeth so hard it felt like they might crack.

Maomao liked working in the pharmacy. She enjoyed handling medicines and having space for her poison experiments. She liked being useful, even though she rarely said so out loud. To her surprise, she also liked her apprentice. Curious and diligent, you had grown on her more than she cared to admit.

From the very beginning, you showed remarkable determination in your desire to learn her craft. Like her, you wanted to be useful to the imperial court. You wanted to ease Maomao’s workload, something you once admitted to her. You paid close attention to her every word, absorbing knowledge and striving to remember it for future use. Since you arrived at the palace, you had come a long way—transforming from a timid, frightened slave who couldn’t even write into a charming pharmacy assistant whom Maomao could already trust to manage a full day of work on your own. She was proud of you.

But, like any blossoming flower, you started attracting all sorts of insects.

Unfortunately, you weren’t only admired by Maomao. Lately, Jinshi had been visiting the pharmacy suspiciously often. At some point during your brief interactions, the eunuch-pervert (in Maomao’s one and only opinion, of course) had taken a liking to your delightful reactions. You were sweet and kind to him but didn’t swoon over his charm like every other girl (and not only girls) in the palace—excluding Maomao herself, who felt like vomiting every time he turned on his so-called charm.

He kept coming back again and again (though he could’ve easily assigned such trivial matters to any servant!) and flirted with you unbearably long—at least, as much as his status allowed (which, according to dear Maomao, was obscenely too much). Sometimes he grew bold enough to touch your shoulders or your hair (How dare he?), and—worst of all—he made you laugh. A lot.

Maomao snapped out of her thoughts and, deciding for now not to throw a book at the eunuch, smoothly slipped between the two of you, greeting the visitors in a (she tried) friendly manner.

“You’re here again, Lord Jinshi. Could it be that you’ve fallen ill? The sick are supposed to stay in bed and not get up.”

“Oh, not at all, dear Maomao. I’m here merely for a consultation,” Jinshi replied, ignoring the sly remark with his usual refined grace.

“With such burning enthusiasm for consultations, be careful—your manly virtue might awaken again,” Maomao fired back, choosing an especially sharp comment to jab at Jinshi and subtly remind you that he could never be a proper husband, so there was no point in even considering him as one.

“If that is fate’s will, then perhaps I’m destined for another purpose,” Jinshi responded lightly, as always unfazed by her mockery, casting a brief glance in your direction. Maomao’s eye almost twitched.

“But then you’d be dismissed from service. The entire harem would mourn such a loss. You’re of great value to us. If that ever happens, I’m ready to secretly prepare a special decoction just for you,” Maomao said with polite courtesy, omitting the fact that, instead of a decoction, she’d much rather put a hammer to good use. Perhaps to knock something else off the eunuch—like his head.

You watch their bickering closely. Your heart skips a beat with a sudden realization. You bring a hand to your mouth and whisper softly:

“Oh. They’re… madly in love with each other. How did I not see it sooner?”

Gaoshun, standing nearby, became an unwitting witness to your conclusion—and couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He slowly turned his head, casting a shocked glance at you.

But you noticed nothing, too lost in your own fantasies.

Gaoshun let out a heavy sigh. These young people would drive him insane.

Adults: ¡young people today only they look at the physical!

young people today: the 3 geometric figures are so attractive 👉👈😳

Never thought shapes would be sexy.

Also we simped over the spec ops guys last year so???? 🤨🤨

I don't know why, but it made me laugh so loud

Ok so when did we all unianimously decide Shigaraki has a piss kink and why wasnt I invited to this council meeting?

Luka: - Rather, we need to hide before the villain notices us.

Y/n: -Great idea. Why don't the two of us hide in this cramped locker? Only you and me~

Y/n: (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

(What is it? This is a learning experiment!)

Please do not read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere!

Pairing: Yandere! Adrien Agreste x Reader, Yandere! Luka Couffaine x Reader, Yandere! Ladybug x Reader, Yandere! Marinette Dupen Chang x Reader

Gabriel: -Adrian, we need to talk seriously.

Adrien: "Oh no. He found out that I was running away to patrol. Or did he find cheese. How can I explain this? What if I got caught reincarnating as Chat Noir "

Gabriel: - What about the girl in your wardrobe? Why is she here and why is she bound?

Adrien: - Ah! Em... We are... conducting research work with her on the victims of the abduction. This is a learning experiment!

Gabriel: * looks intently *

Adrien: * sweats nervously *

Gabriel: - Okay. Don't Forget Your Chinese Lesson Today.

Adrien: * exhales with relief*

----

Y/n: - Luka is one of the calmest people. I don’t know what has to happen in order for he to become akumatized.

Somebody: * offends a y/n*

Luka: * acumatized*

----

Ladybug: - I should stop giving y/n the Miraculouses just because I like her. It's irresponsible. And I put her in danger.

Somebody: * acumatized *

Ladybug: -Y/n, take this Miracle Box.

Y/n: - Wait... Again?

----

Alya: - Did you just sneak a photo?

Marinette: -Of course not!

Alya: - You called me again as cover. Who are you following this time? Is that Adrien?

Marinette: * drops her bag with shaking hands. A bunch of pictures of the y/n fall out *

Alya: - Don't you think this is strange?

Marinette: -No...

Y/n: * walks in the park, unaware of anything *