(troupe Member Of Your Choice) Reacting To A Cheating Accusation

(troupe member of your choice) reacting to a cheating accusation

“this is all a game to you isnt it?”

decided to do this request with machi! <333

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, thoughts of kidnapping the reader, manipulation, stalking, and implied violence (not on the reader).

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

If there was one word you could use to describe the expression on Machi’s face, it would be nothing more or less than slight horror.

It’s ever so subtle, like how an astrologer would count the stars and find one missing, or find another new one that went unnoticed in the moments before it, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed then, in the past, or the present or the future. But you have learned to read Machi, have learned from how messy her hairstyles were to tell how annoyed she felt at your neighbors, have learned from what hoodie she was wearing to tell how much she spent on gifts for you. Most of all, you have learned how to differentiate the different shades of blue her eyes can change into, become, simply from how the sun hits or from how tired she is. You can read her, but can she read you?

When two mirrors face each other, what does one of them see?

What does the other one see? Will they see themselves, or one another?

When you look into Machi’s eyes, her eyes stare back at you too, don’t they?

“...What?” She’s confused, caught off guard perhaps, at your question, from how she crosses her arms in a defensive stance to counteract the glare from your eyes.

“That friend of yours, Pakunoda… she’s with you a lot.” You don’t want to accuse your girlfriend of anything, but with how secretive she can be sometimes confrontation is the best solution.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’ve also… been avoiding me.”

“Have not.”

“You have!” You blurt out, hugging yourself even tighter as you continue to weep. “If you don’t like me anymore, just say so! She’s prettier and wealthier and obviously is a much better fit for-”

“[First], please calm down.”

Machi simply notes that your insecurities are getting the better of you again.

But why?

Then, everything she has seen today while following you to work clicks into her mind, this breakdown of yours being the final missing piece in this puzzle. It’s definitive.

An investigation of sorts, to see which clues fit in what order.

A familiar face comes into her imagination. Two, actually.

Then… the number goes up all the way to twelve.

But the two original ones stay under bright light, while the others are cast in shadow.

The green-haired girl from your job, the one that always seems to pick on you, and Chrollo.

Her boss speaks first. Even in her mind, a landscape that is supposed to be only hers, he always seems to be the early bird, putting a few words in before anyone else could.

Machi, I think you are too merciful to obstacles. Continuing to be that way will only slow you down even more.

She thinks on those words. 

Impulses spread around her like a mist. Impulses she has kept down for so long for your sake, your happiness, whether that be putting pills in your food when you visit her or slicing the throat of that man who catcalls both of you whenever you walk by him at that park you like frequenting when the weather is warm.

Then that girl’s voice comes into her ears, and the mist looks red and sticks to her palms and stinks.

You’re such a low score. That girlfriend of yours can do much better.

The urge, as dark as blood, for Machi to tear everyone who has ever crossed you limb from limb.

“...I’ll be back.” She turns around, walking toward your apartment door, the needles in her jacket pocket feeling even colder in her hands. “We can talk about this later, alright? Just please calm down.”

“...Don’t break up with me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She interrupts, gripping the doorknob so tightly she must focus on something else entirely to prevent her from breaking it.

“B-But then where are you going? If I’m not a good girlfriend just s-”

“Sh.” 

You sniffle. At the sight and sound, she is reminded of Pakunoda taking care of her when she was so young, crying and pulling on her sleeves, begging her to not leave her too. Those memories are bitter, most days, but sometimes they are all she can hold on to, to prevent herself from falling apart.

“Machi… you aren’t leaving me?”

“No. Never.”

“Then where are you going?”

She doesn’t answer.

You choose not to pry anymore, but the anxiety still gnaws at you from within.

Perhaps for a different reason. This gut feeling… It's horrifying. 

But you don’t know where this feeling came from. At least not yet, or maybe not ever, if Machi continues to have it her way.

I just read a final wish and it made me cry, you’re really good at writing

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭

i may actually make a continuation of a final wish… but that’s for when my brain/google docs makes enough space for it. there’s a line… it’ll have to wait, unfortunately 😔. a line out of disneyland/disneyworld FPRBDPEBDODJ

maybe sometime next month or so… that is, if i don’t hyperfixate on the storyline again. neurodiversity can work in mysterious ways, often more times than not. i may also continue that never let me down again concept for yan nanami… but it may be much longer than it was supposed to be!

i’ve also had this sorta concept in my brain for a little while now about a sort of scream au with yan gojo and yan geto scaring the shit out of their darling as all their friends die in quite gruesome ways. whenever the darling thinks they have the culprit at hand, their life takes yet another unexpected turn. ‘tis the way of life, i suppose.

there is also something in the works for yan geto and a curse darling… but it’s still in the very early stages rn!

thanks once again! 🫶🏼

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WHAT THE FUCK…..

300 FOLLOWERS? insane..... bamboozled.....

it hasn't even been a month and this blog has already gained more than a hundred than i last checked...... THANK YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!! from the bottom of my heart! each and every one of you i wanna hug and thank and bake pastries for! genuinely!

as of now to celebrate this milestone, requests are now open! they will be open until march 9th! please don't miss the deadline if you want to request something. otherwise, you'll have to wait until the next event...

i will start doing said requests after i'm done writing this yan gojo and yan geto fic..... it's so long, RIP my sanity.... but it's worth it for hot rich crazy men.

thank you all again!!! <3333333

labyrinth.

bold – yandere.

italic – concept.

regular – non-yandere.

bold and red – favorite characters, more likely to get longer fics.

purple - bullet formatted.

*~*~*~*

jareth.

(to be added)

There’s a Certain Slant of Light.

Yan (Soulmate) Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: Something is different. But what could it be?

Warnings: Yandere themes, the reader is unwillingly a Spider and from Meteor City, mentions of religion/religious imagery, implied drugging, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

i’ve been seeing a lot of chrollo being paired with a phantom troupe member reader and i just think that the concept is very interesting! :D

credits for og art piece here!

*~*~*~*

Your sword, while having the ability to stab and slice just about anything, is still by far the most frail weapon at your disposal. It is a slight sadness that fills Chrollo’s mind, then, once he realizes this. The feeling is small, minuscule, just like most of the other emotions Chrollo’s heart cannot beat with, the blood that flows through his veins frozen with the concept of what he wants to be. He feels next to nothing as if he were a walking corpse, a prisoner who has just been released from the deepest depths of hell, not once being able to see twinkling eyes and shining stars. Light is a concept unknown to people like him, and people like you, foreign, as alien as a coup made of peasants storming a palace larger than ten of their villages combined. 

Your two true weapons are your lips calling out his name, and the thin red string that connects your little finger and your fate to his thumb and his future. Despite the thread being wispier than that of paper, it has a will stronger than one forged in diamonds and never had to be a carbon crystal to be so. Chrollo is thankful for it, more so than he is for most things that he would rather leave in the past. It has linked you two together for so long and has been the key for chaining down your animosity towards him whenever he had gone too far. All he had to do was tug, and you would be right back wherever he had placed you. But even diamonds can shatter when a love made in a less-than-fortunate childhood turns more and more into hate.

This entire act is like a balancing beam. He must not be too loud, but also not be too quiet. He must always have cards up his sleeve for any potential mishaps down the line. Inside one hand is the key to your freedom, but inside the other is the key to a false route to such fantasies, the trap of reality. Even Chrollo does not know which is which, for he is a dreamer himself at heart.

“Good morning, sir,” It is a rare sight, you yawning, your posture nowhere near how put together it usually is. “How are you today, sir?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“I must have been quite exhausted last night; my apologies, sir.”

“I told you if you ever wanted to take a break here, you are more than welcome to.”

“I’ve always declined such an offer for a reason, sir.”

“Just as I’ve always told you that you may call me just Chrollo for a reason, [First]. I think I haven't heard you say my name without an honorific since we were both still children if my memory serves correctly.”

“...”

The provocation of the past seems to hurt you more than him it seems, from how you flinch at the word children, and from how he smiles at your discomfort. 

“We are not with the rest of the Troupe right now, it is quite alright if you want to relive prior times, wouldn’t you say?” He asks, and with his eyes appearing to look back at his books, he sees yours darting around the room, looking for an escape route.

They move left, to the tables at the back of the sitting room which hold lamps and framed photos and paintings. Then right, to the fireplace and the large but still solitary couch, covered with leather and embroideries. Then up, to the crackless and spotless white ceiling, and then down, to the wooden rosewood planks of the floor.

“I saw a book in your satchel. Crime and Punishment, hmm?”

“Yes. Please do not say how ironic it is, sir.”

“Very well.”

To you, perhaps the room feels deathly still. To him, it feels like the scene right before the climax. Slow, steady, full of tension and dread. Though Chrollo will never let the curtains that cover your very soul close ever again. It would not be hard to get them to open up again, you have known each other for so long after all, but regardless he needs you to stay within the palm of his hand forevermore. Only then will he be able to feel something so warm and soft once more.

Oh, how he wishes that he could open the floor below you and trap you there. But he cannot. At least not yet.

“...Where is my bag?” At your question, Chrollo pulls his thumb towards him, and you move accordingly. “It is not in the room.” You continue, your eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to resist. “Sir?”

Desperation. Then a hand raise and a pause.

“Stolen treasure from the last meeting.” Chrollo begins curtly. “A contact list full of people I have not permitted you to speak to. Keys to a car that is not mine.” He proceeds to say. “Tell me, [First], what is all of this, hmm?”

Something akin to a mix of a horrified chuckle and a choking sound emerges from your throat as if his hands were squeezing and squeezing until you burst. He sets the book he was reading down, and without his hands covering both the front and back of it, you see the title, the synopsis.

“Crime and Punishment, hmm?” He repeats, and for the first time in what must be a few years, he sees you terrified, shaking, and near to tears. “A clever way to code your plan.” Chrollo crosses his legs. “By the way, it is an hour or so past sunset by now.” He hears a small gasp from you. “You missed your flight a long time ago, sweet thing.”

“...I… I…”

“You were planning on leaving us, weren’t you?” When you don’t answer, instead looking straight towards the door, he raises his thumb again. “I know you never wanted to join the Troupe, per se, but still… this hurts.” He pulls and pulls, and being forced to be a puppet for the umpteenth time since the soulmate string has appeared in Chrollo’s vision, you are placed where he wants you to be. 

Close to him.

Talk That Talk.

Dan Heng x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Dan Heng has no idea how you can talk so much.

Word Count: 500.

*~*~*~*

You two are at it yet again.

Dan Heng does not know how to feel about you chatting it up for the fourth time this evening with March. He was not annoyed by it, no. But he is not entirely thrilled either. Dan Heng has never been one to have much intrapersonal intelligence when it comes to his emotions, so at this prospect, he is not surprised. He expected it. It is what he does best, after all, predicting what is to come and never getting too off course.

Mr. Yang stands up from his armchair, grasping his cane as he takes a few steps forward towards him, slowly, calmly, the little creaking sounds of the Astral Express’s floors somehow being comforting to Dan Heng. “Something wrong? They won’t bite your head off if you join their conversation, you know.”

The voice is whispered but still fills Dan Heng’s mind with something akin to deja vu. He can hear someone saying similar reassuring prospects to him along with a clattering noise of wine glasses touching each other as there is cheering from both others and himself.

He doesn’t remember the moment exactly, though, as much as he tries, despite closing his eyes and attempting to see forgotten memories of the past that were cast into shadow long ago. Eventually, he gives up, opening them once more to see you and March still conversing, but something is different, he notes. A small box is in your hands, covered in teal wrapping paper and knotted with white and black ribbon. When did that happen?

He has been trapped in his thoughts for far, far too long, he thinks.

Mr. Yang even went back to reading his book in his armchair, his cane looking like it had been leaning against the table for at least five minutes. Himeko is pouring freshly ground coffee beans into her French press, the press in question being emptied by you and March a few moments earlier. Dan Heng stops himself from sighing. At least he knows where all of your energy comes from.

He takes the words of Mr. Yang and that unknown person to heart. “I believe in you.”

He has to remind himself that both of them are genuine. They do believe in him, so much more than he believes in himself. It isn’t a hard thing to do, but regardless, it is still something significant. 

So, finally gathering the courage to do so, he walks towards you two. To his surprise and March’s giggling, you bow your head as you present him with the wrapped box, looking down to the floor with your cheeks a light pink.

“Took you long enough, silly! They’ve been waiting forever for you to show! I was getting tired of playing Miss Notice Me…”

He does not know what to say, so he starts stuttering. So do you.

“S-Stop it, March!” You both exclaim.

…This entire time, you were trying to give a gift to him?

From different corners, all eyeing the situation, Welt, Himeko, and Pom-Pom all grin.