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amarias-yandere-blog · 5 months

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Love you in red

Yan!Blade X reader

As usual, thanks to Myla for reading my insanity and helping out

Request: Vampire yandere Blade x reader

Holy hell this took forever I am so sorry

You groaned, looking at the text that Himeko had sent you earlier.

“Hey, Y/n, I wish I could go with you to the blood bank today, but it's getting late and I have some projects to finish… I'm sorry! I hope it goes well!”

You sighed. Yes, it was late, and Himeko was very much a night owl. Your shift had been postponed for an extra hour, and just because of that, you were now running late for your appointment at the blood bank and you were tired as heck. So, because of your tardiness, you were at the bank at around 8:30 PM. Yes, late for a blood bank, unrealistically so- but apparently one of their workers ran the thing by himself at night. You were gonna meet him, so…

“Y/n, right?” A deep, annoyed voice asked as they came into the room. “I'm Blade. I’ll be… assisting you today.” He introduced, looking rather unenthusiastic. You honestly didn't feel like he should be working here.

After all, he had thick, blue hair tied into a loose bun that threatened to escape its hairband at any moment. Deep, scarlet eyes stared into yours, and he was intimidatingly tall. And he had an ethereal confidence to him, like he knew that he couldn't be harmed.

“Hi, Blade.” You managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

“Come on, let's get this done.” He encouraged, taking a pair of gloves out of the boxes mounted on the wall behind him. You nodded in agreement, following him to the chairs and sitting down as you always did. He took an alcohol wipe, rubbing it against your inner elbow. “...Ready?”

He placed the needle against your skin, not even bothering to look for the vein.

___

When the girl nodded calmly, Blade sighed softly, watching her. She seemed unbothered by the relatively empty space, and even more so with his presence. He looked at her reflection in the window, disinterestedly, sighing before putting the needle in her arm. The girl winced slightly at the pinch, but she was quiet as her eyes followed where her blood sucked into the bag.

He took a deep breath at the scent that wafted from her new wound, almost overwhelmed by it. The girl looked at Blade curiously, a flicker of concern in her eyes. He shook his head, calming himself down with a pinch of his arm. It did almost nothing physically, but it was enough to keep him from jumping on the girl.

“You ok..?” Y/n asked softly. “You look a little pale.” Hah, the irony of her words.

“I'm fine. Sometimes this just happens.” He dismissed the question with a shrug, staring at where her blood pooled into the bag. It smelled intoxicating to him. But he remained calm, silently eyeing the dripping vein as he pondered what could've caused him to lose his cool like that.

Perhaps it was that he hadn't eaten a good meal in a bit… he would have to steal some from the bank tonight. That's why he worked there, after all. But that didn't explain his sudden desire to drink from the girl who sat in front of him, laying in the chair with her eyes closed. He hadn't had such desires before… not two hundred years, perhaps.

He hadn't had a live drinking in a similar amount of time, give or take fifty years. Perhaps that was why. No, Blade shook his head once more, pulling the needle from the girl's arm. Her blood was different, unique. It smelled so sweet, like chocolate, but it looked healthy…

He had to force himself to stay still as he wrapped her arm in a bandage, huffing. “There, you're done. I'll schedule you three weeks from now, as usual?”

“Make it two. I'm going on vacation that week.” Y/n smiled brightly. “Thank you for doing such a good job, and a wonderful service.” She nodded before turning around to leave, her purse bouncing around her hip as she headed to where several drinks and granola bars were laid on the table. She grabbed an apple juice and a classic granola bar before waving and walking out.

He sighed, beginning to clean up the mess that was left behind. He paused, looking at the needle that had been in her skin moments before. Several drops of blood beaded on the metal, looking absolutely delectable in the dim light. He groaned, giving into his desire and his need, licking up the drops before disposing of the needle.

To call it tasty would be an understatement. It tasted like the ichor of gods, and while he didn't know what the blood of the gods tasted like, he did know that Y/n’s blood was probably really damn close. He wanted more. He needed more, both on a satisfactory basis and a factual need. He somehow knew that this would happen- he drew exactly an ounce extra of her blood, not nearly enough to harm her or make her feel any sicker than she normally would after getting her blood drawn, but enough to feed him.

His fangs were already sinking downwards in anticipation- a normal reaction to a feeding, but still awkward, especially as he had the bag slowly drained of that one ounce. Two more weeks before he could hopefully get another taste of the delectable flavor that sang on his tongue, dying his teeth a reddish tint. He flicked his tongue over his lips to get a final taste of the girl's blood… Y/n’s blood.

He hoped that he could actually wait that long.

~*~

“Oh, not again~!” You groaned, running into the clinic as several of the phlebotomists started leaving the blood bank. One of them was your favorite phlebotomist to work with, a redhead named Kafka, who looked at you with an amused smile.

“Y/n, you're running late~” she teased gently as Blade came into the clinic, his white coat draped over his arm and his hair flowing in the breeze. “Hey Bladie~ you have your first patient of the day~”

“I can see that, Kafka. Go to one of the chairs- I'll be with you after I'm finished getting ready.” He told you, unblinking as he walked to the back.

“Oh, don't worry, Bladie~ I’ll keep her company.” Kafka smiled, waving him off. She suddenly neared your ear, holding your waist close to her. “Listen to me. Be careful around Bladie. In fact, don't stick around him any longer than you have to.”

“Why?” You whispered, feeling a rush of blood in your cheeks.

“The last girl who was close to him had her heart eaten out.” Kafka whispered. You weren't sure if she was joking. You were never sure what she was thinking about, especially with her empty pink eyes that practically glowed in the evening light. But she probably meant that the girl had gotten her heart broken, in her strange way. After all, she was… well, Kafka. “It's your choice to listen to my warnings or not, of course. See ya~ and have a good vacation.” Kafka blew a kiss before walking away.

You sighed, shrugging off her words and walking to the waiting room. It was a sweet and simple area, with pristine side tables and warm colored walls. The atmosphere was calming- one that was often necessary for people.

You shivered, noticing the cold for the first time in a while. Usually, you at least had a jacket or someone close.

But this time, it was only you. Your eyes flicked to the groups that were still recovering from their blood being drawn. Newcomers, most definitely. Especially the younger girl- she held a hand to her head, whimpering slightly as she tried to get her balance back. The poor girl really had it hard.

That was when the familiar indigo-haired man came into the room, snapping his rubber gloves and following your gaze to the group of women. “Get that woman an apple juice or something. She shouldn't have had her blood drawn in the first place, dammit.” He muttered that last part to himself, though you did manage to catch his muttering. He sighed.

“Sorry for the wait.” He apologized, looking at the equipment in disgust. You followed his gaze, feeling your stomach flop at the sight of dried blood on one of the tubs. “Goddamn- SAMPO!” The man practically screamed as he quickly pulled the tub out of the set up, moving to the back, where you could hear faint accusations of neglect.

~*~

Finally he came back. His red eyes were practically slits as he cleaned the equipment. You watched him with interest, and his eyes flickered to your own. “So… where's your vacation?”

“Hmm? I'm going to Teyvat.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not many have.” After that, Blade let out a hum and pulled your arm to the chair’s. He took a deep breath, as if he'd had a horrible day and was attempting to calm down.

“Are you wearing perfume?” He suddenly inquired, looking at you with his flame-like pupils, staring into the very depths of your soul.

“No? I sometimes use a scented lotion and I showered before I came here but… that's it.” You explained nervously, thinking back to Kafka's words.

“Hmm. Well, you smell nice.” Blade sounded more apathetic than genuine, and he was quick to push the needle in your arm. Once again, he didn't even have to look for a vein. Silence filled the room. Another volunteer came in, Blade went over to them, did the same routine as he did you, and then walked back over. “How do you feel?” He sounded bored, more than anything.

You looked up from your phone, your screensaver of no importance- your latest anime interest, really. “I'm fine.” You answered calmly as he pulled the needle away, sighing and cleaning it with a alcohol wipe.

He took the needle out and placed it on the table, placing a cotton ball on the arm and holding it in place with some bandages of your favorite color. Might as well make it fun, right?

“You're done. You know the drill. Have a good night.” Blade waved you off, cleaning the equipment and then redoing his hair, some of his long strands having fallen out of his hazardous bun. You watched him for a little bit, curious. He seemed to be aware of your gaze, looking over with vermillion eyes that flickered like candlelight.

“Something wrong?”

With a squeak, you shake your head, quickly turning to go grab a juice box and leaving, glancing back to see Blade staring at you- no, at the bandage on your arm.

~*~

There was a group of young adults in the blood bank, obviously intoxicated and rowdy as Blade glared at them, undisturbed by their presence. Blade grabs one of the girls, who yelps unexpectedly and the group yells at him, following him outside of the blood bank and abandoning her outside. She stumbles, landing on the ground on all fours.

Blade sighs as he removes the drunken group from the scene, careful to not wound them, but still keeping them at bay from the blood bank- and yourself. You watch with wide eyes as one of the men in the group swings, only to be forced back out, and the doors locked.

“Uh… is that a smart idea?” You ask, looking at the locked doors with a frown. Blade’s eyes drone into your own, and then he goes to the back, leaving you to look at the group of drunk people outside, clearly upset and angry, pacing outside. Nervous, you back away, looking at where Blade had left. He’s there again, holding two shastas in his hand, looking at you expectantly as he holds one out.

“They’ll get impatient and leave.” Blade promises after a moment, shaking the soda to encourage you further. You reach out, grabbing the soda hesitantly, looking at it with a slight frown, looking at the can for any indication that it was tampered with. But, you don't see anything, and the can lets out a satisfying hiss as you open it.

“Will anyone come tonight?” You ask, flinching at the crash of a rock against reinforced glass. There's no cracks, but they do remind you of your presence.

Blade looks at the group before sighing, pulling your body into the rest area. He says nothing, sitting against the wall, eyes closed and breathing deeply through his nose, popping his soda to take a drink. “...Blood thieves.”

“Huh?”

“People like to come to the bank and try to steal the blood. They figure they can get a good buck from it.” Blade explains, thrumming his fingers against the wall before sighing, turning to silence, resting his hand on his forearm as he took a sip of his soda. There is silence for a moment, and then you get the urge to pee, so you go to the bathroom in the blood bank, seeing that the group is still there, and one man is making out with a woman.

You decide not to ponder the sight, looking away. And then you go to your business before going back to where Blade's perched against the wall, his eyes watching you as you sit down, drinking the shasta in one gulp, slamming the can down after a moment. You're tired and frustrated, and now you're stuck in a blood bank with the least talkative person in history.

At least he doesn't make a deal out of your seeming frustration. He doesn't say anything, but you notice his lips quirk, as though he's amused by the situation. You don't ask, letting silence fall on the room, looking at your phone for a while. As the minutes pass, you begin to feel your eye's drooping, exhausted from work and the stress of everything going on in your life. A hand touching your neck is the last thing you're aware of.

~*~

When you awoke, you felt soft fingers slowly moving over your chest, shoulders, down your back and across your waist, all while warm breathing brushed on your neck. You feel unable to move your wrists, as if bound. With a little whine, you try to pull yourself up, only to stumble back down as you realize the binding has your hands behind your back. “Good night, dear…” A familiar voice whispered to you, pulling into your vision. “How do you feel?” Blade asked, fangs peeking from his lips. His voice is less soft, his eyes far away from reality. Its like you're being eyed by a wolf.

“...What the hell are you?” You whispered, shivering at his slow, cold touch.

“...A vampire, dear.” He muttered, pushing your hair away from your neck to stare at it. “Don't worry… I don't bleed my prey dry… that's just a waste of food.” Blade chuckled darkly, his hand pulling your hair back to get a better view of your neck. “Besides… you're the tastiest girl I've ever come across. In all my years… I've never tasted blood so sweet, so… special.” He sighed out, sitting on your lap and pushing his lips against your neck, grazing his teeth against your delicate skin. You whimper at the sensation, feeling his sharp teeth drag down your neck.

“S-stop…” You whispered to him, pushing him away. He grabs your hair, pushing you further against the wall , eyes slitting in displeasure.

“... I promise that I will take care of you. I want you, after all… for a lot of reasons. And… I'm told that the first feeding is always the best. You will enjoy this.” He assured you with a laugh, moving his attention back towards your neck. “I haven't had a live feeding in so long… perhaps 200 years? You damn humans are so sensitive… if only you could just give yourselves to us like in those movies… Why do you romanticize my kind anyway?” He mused against your burning skin.

“B-Blade… ple-” You cut yourself off from your words as pain filled your body. Blade had sunk his teeth into your neck, and you felt hot blood dripping down your skin. A sickly sucking sound filled the air as you felt your body relinquish its control… you could only hear the sound of him sucking, see his indigo hair, and feel your body limp in his arms.

He smirked, pushing closer to your body, pulling away to let out a pleased gasp. “You are truly exquisite… I will have to be careful… or this need will make you die.” Blade mumbled as he licked the wound he'd left behind. “Ah- I almost forgot… You can't move, right? You’ll get used to the venom. After all, it's not meant for regular use…” Blade smiled at you, pulling your shirt to look at the wound he caused. He gently puts his hand on the bite wound, stopping the bleeding for a moment, and then he puts cloth bandages over the bite, watching the rough cloth soak up your blood.

“V-venom?” You repeat.

“...Yes. You are feeling its effects now. It keeps you from moving, protesting. It will coagulate your body and keep it from death, I've seen it. But…” He stares, showing his teeth as his nostrils flare. His lips quirk once again, and he lifts his body up, leaving you quivering on the floor, unable to move. You watch him through bleary eyes as he licks his hand clean, looking back to normal as the light shines through a covered window, casting eerie light over you.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere blog #amaria writes #yandere imagines #x reader #ask #x blade #hsr blade x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honaki star rail #yandere honkai star rail #yandere blade x reader #yandere blade #female reader

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amarias-yandere-blog · 5 months

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Omg you have such a pretty name (or blog name if it's not your real name) I love it it seems very familiar to me lmao

Ahaha, thank you! Funny enough, it's not my real name, but I absolutely love it. In greek, (spelled Amariah btw) it means Moon. And jewish spellings, though they are masculine names, Amaria means "Chosen by God" if I remember right.

So, yeah, now you know 🥰

#amaria talks #amaria ramble #anon asks

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amarias-yandere-blog · 5 months

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I have too many ideas and all of them are Blade x readers and I am autistic

#amaria's basement #amaria ramble

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amarias-yandere-blog · 5 months

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Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule.

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on.

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on.

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you.

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time.

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead.

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out.

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?”

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums.

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.”

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.”

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.”

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.”

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.”

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife.

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet.

“I’ll take your input into—”

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.”

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity.

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling.

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock.

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise.

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another.

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?”

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment.

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time.

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work.

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside.

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.”

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter.

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…”

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.”

A white ring forms around his pupils.

“You… will?”

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?”

The ring goes from opaque to solid.

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself.

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web.

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume.

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold.

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.

The taut link between you falters.

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket).

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).

Until it snaps.

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator.

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure.

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one?

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal.

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out.

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer.

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“Don’t bother,” is all he says.

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it.

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you.

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.”

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress.

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities.

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving?

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern.

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon.

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face.

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.”

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force.

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt.

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.”

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed.

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife.

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss.

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo

“Absolutely not!”

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed.

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried.

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?”

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.”

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.”

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.”

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse.

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.”

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.”

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.”

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.”

“Try 70%.”

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t.

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.”

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels.

“What does this intel cost me?”

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?”

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.”

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness?

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.”

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.”

…

“What?”

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications.

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end.

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.”

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.”

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent.

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you.

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?”

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less.

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony.

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall.

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.”

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again.

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.”

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest.

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…”

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent.

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.”

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts.

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.”

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.”

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path.

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?”

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.”

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain.

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue.

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.”

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point.

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.”

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.”

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed.

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.”

Your eye twitches.

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space.

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative.

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist.

Your heart stutters.

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide.

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble.

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then.

You will the thought away.

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself.

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…”

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away.

You find yourself leaning in closer.

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance:

"Show me what it's like to die."

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #Amaria recommends

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amarias-yandere-blog · 8 months

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Are you okay with taking HSR requests?

Absolutely! Feel free to ask away~!

#amaria answers #ask #you can really send me any request and I will at least consider it

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amarias-yandere-blog · 8 months

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"Run if you can, Darling. I will find you even among the galaxy."

-Yandere!Blade x Reader (Honkai Star Rail)

-‼️Warnings include: murder, forced affection, manhandling, physical violence, unreciprocated contact, other general yandere themes‼️

Special thanks to Myla on my discord server for reading and commenting on any mistakes for me!

Please: reblog with proper tags

You do not remember when you met him. You don't remember how. But you do remember why: a goddamn coffee shop. Craving something that would be able to keep you awake long enough to finish your rough draft for college, you headed out at one in the morning. A man with a beanie, a face mask, and sunglasses caught your attention as you ordered.

And as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

You were like a beacon in the darkest night- a wonderful drop of color in the grayest walls and dark navy seas. He grew curious about you, a seemingly innocent and tired person who was little more than a drop in the ocean of people he'd met.

But the way you walked up to him with the sweetest smile and that tired, but determined voice- oh, perhaps he had been stricken with a far more powerful disease than mara. Or perhaps he'd mistaken your curiosity for a bit of affection. All he knew was that your eyes held an innocent look in them.

Call him a sadist. Because he wanted to take that innocence for his own.

The second meeting was in the nearby library. You chalked it up to coincidence. He chalked it up to meticulous research, preparation, and an obsession to see your innocent light once again.

Things eventually developed. You fell for him. He was rather quiet, but he looked at you like no one else did in a long time. At least, from what you could see above the dark-rimmed sunglasses he wore.

The first time you actually saw his face was in an alleyway. You had accidentally run into some thugs. He was far more aggressive than you thought he needed to be, but his vermilion eyes and the way his lips were pushed into a thin, unamused line were... well, you could not lie. They were captivating.

The thugs, bleeding from his curious black sword riddled with golden cracks, ran as he walked towards you- towering over you with one hand still on his blade and the other resting on the wall behind you.

"That was foolish of you, Y/n," he scolded before bending down, stealing your precious lips for his own. His eyes never left your form as you gasped in shock at his boldness. And he only grew bolder- pushing your face up so that he had a better angle to steal your breath.

Your savior had completely taken you for his own. And you were fine with that, grabbing a hold of his neck for support as he took everything he could. It was like a dark ocean had enveloped your warm light at that moment, though you didn't know it.

That point on, he would disappear from your sight for weeks, if not months. Sometimes he would come to your door covered in blood but without a scratch on his body.

It was during one of those days when he had disappeared without a trace that you figured out who he was. You learned his name.

Blade. Stellaron Hunter. Dangerous. It was recommended that you run if you saw him. That night in the alleyway became crystal clear to you. He was so skilled with the sword. He could have killed those people. No- you realized with a tear running from your face that he had. They hadn't run away. They had bled out and died while he covered your eyes from the sight using his body.

Slowly taking away your innocence. Your light. Claiming your love for himself. His vermilion eyes were a flag- all too deep and clear and that is why he hid them from you for so long.

In a panic, you decided to take the initiative and move as far away as possible. You quit your job, you moved across the world, you even threw your phone away at the drop of a dime. You were scared. And rightly so. Perhaps you would have escaped from his gaze if you had learned this from the first time you saw his face.

But it was just far too late now.

When you got out of the house, it was quiet in the apartment you shared with three other people. Two girls, one guy, and you. When you came into the living room, you were met with a gorey sight. A man stood tall, his sword hugged tight against his chest as he closed his eyes and waited patiently for a new chapter to start.

Bodies lay scattered across the room, their blood dripping from the ceiling and the walls, soaking the floor, the couch- but not a drop was on him. There was a cruel, cold wind blowing through the room.

"Bad choice, Y/n." The man suddenly spoke, all too aware of your sweet presence in the room. "Now three people have paid your price." He opened his eyes to glare at you, the sword disappearing from his grip. His hands made a wide gesture, as though inviting you to hug him. But instead, you stepped away.

"G-get away from me, Blade." You tried to sound confident. His lips curled into a smile before he put a hand on his head, laughing darkly at your puny display.

"Run." One word. One sentence and your heart dropped. "Run as fast as you can, little one, and try to escape from my heart and mind- you won't. Even if you fly to the end of the stars you will never outrun me. I will always catch you. So run, little one, give me a chase!"

His words set something inside of you off. You sprinted, slamming open doors and running down stairs with no particular purpose in mind- no destination. Just. Run.

As you ran down flights of stairs, you could hear the maniacal laughter from Blade. He sounded as though he was in no rush. You had, after all, gone to a place where he was unknown and unrecognized as a killer. He was playing the long game- letting you tire yourself out as you dashed across streets and down nasty roads, passing through large swaths of crowds and even going through narrow lanes in a rush to lose him.

But you burned out. You felt your knees get weak and your bare feet turned sore and red from the run. You gasped for air, holding your chest and resting against a wall as you took in deep gulps of air that fueled your run.

Your throat burned from the dryness of the air, and your lungs struggled to keep up with the demand you gave them.

"Is that the best you can do?" Blade asked with a laugh as he walked closer towards you. Even your effort to shake him off was in vain. You gulped down saliva and turned to run again- but your feet faltered, betrayed you. You slipped on your own blood, landing on your chest with a small shriek as loud footsteps clapped down the alley.

"Poor thing. So weak, so innocent and tired that they can't even run away." Blade mocked, pulling you up by the wrist.

He pushed you into the wall, forcing your body to move in such a way that you leaned against him, looking at him with fear in your eyes. His hands roamed, across your arms and down to your hips before pulling your head in such a way that he could once again steal your breath.

But this time around you didn't want it. You tried to pull away, kicking at his knees and pulling his arms away from your body. You elbowed him and screamed and scratched his face with your nails as you bit his tongue in self defense.

He released you for only a moment, turning you back around and pushing you up against the wall, one of his hands on your wrists to keep them above your head. The other slapped your face, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed against each other.

You watched in horror as the scratches healed in seconds, and he stuck out his tongue to prove that your damage had been far less than 'temporary'. He smirked.

"Any more cute attempts at fighting back?" He asked, shoving his face into your personal space, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your arms were growing numb now. You trembled. "I guess not. Looks like the chase is over, Darling. Now..." he leaned into you, whispered in your ear with a smile on his face. His free hand pinned your hips into the wall. "You are all mine."

And then he kissed your ear, his lips dragging across your face until they met your mouth. "Kiss me." He snarled. "Be a good little pet for me."

You never graduated from that college.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere blog #amaria writes #yandere imagines #x reader #blade x you #blade x reader #blade honkai #hsr blade #hsr #hsr yandere #hsr blade x reader #yandere blade #hsr x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #pet names #Amaria's Basement

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