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cowboyfromh3ll · 7 months

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OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

MX - Deftones

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #john marston #john marston x reader smut #john marston rdr2 #john marston x reader #john marston smut #dutch's daughter reader #agegap #stepcest #john marston is emo

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i23kazu · 6 months

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neuvillette, who catches your gaze as he walks into the courtroom. you're not a lowly attendant, but an empathetic defender of your accused friend's justice. you scream, and you cry, with salty tears dripping down your cheeks as you yell and defend your friend against at what seemed to be a wall of a prosecutor.

"i'm done," you whisper defeatedly, sitting back down in your chair. "i'm sorry that i can't defend you til the end, (f/n)."

neuvillette allows himself to have a glimpse of you. who exactly is this? in his five-hundred years of the title of iudex bestowed onto him, no one, never, has defended someone with such even passion and grace.

"his honour, the iudex, requests a presence with you after this, mx. arrive at his office at half past three, and we shall see to it that high tea be delivered as well."

the iudex hears you out. he listens, he smiles, his gaze falters.

“what’s wrong, sir?” you ask timidly, afraid of what his next sentence was going to be.

“ah, nothing. i’m just… glad, that i asked you to meet during the recess. hearing this side has certainly adjusted my stance, but i’m afraid that i will have to entertain the other party as well to hear their side.” he stands up, a noticable lethargy in his stance.

“i apologise for all the trouble.” you bow your head in quiet reverence.

“you have nothing to apologise for. however, if you truly wanted to make up for it, perhaps i could see you back here tomorrow for another round of tea?”

“…til tomorrow, then.”

“i shall look forward to your presence once again.”

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette drabbles #neuvillette imagines

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starglitterz · 2 years

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♡ BEAUTIFUL & DIRTY RICH.

you're the youngest scion of the world's most wealthy conglomerate owner, and with your older brother next-in-line to come into the role of chairman, you're free to run as wild as you like. and for you, that equates to getting into dating scandals nearly every other week, much to the chagrin of your management… though it’s not like they can say anything since you can get away with everything when you’re this beautiful & dirty rich.

✧ feat ; albedo, arataki itto, childe, diluc ragnvindr, gorou, kaedehara kazuha, kaeya alberich, kamisato ayato, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, thoma, xiao x gn!reader

✧ warning(s) ; reader wears a skirt + heels at one point, alcohol mentions, drunk!reader, kinda suggestive

✧ a/n ; i have been brainrotting this concept since Forever and now i am forcing all of u to think abt it too >:) spot the xiao favouritism LMAO

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot :)

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

“you've got a press conference tomorrow afternoon at one,” albedo lists out your itinerary for the next day as you spin around in the chair at your desk. “and then lunch with lady ningguang at two.” “how about scheduling some time for us to go on a date instead?” you tease, a smirk curving your lips. “it's too late to change your schedule, mx y/n,” albedo answers without missing a beat. it's become a pastime of yours to attempt to fluster your cool personal assistant, and it's a common occurrence for you to flirt with him only to be immediately shut down. “what about kisses then? those are pretty quick.” albedo sighs, “may i remind you that you have barely a minute to spare tomorrow?” “a lot can be done in a minute,” you wink, and he stares at you, “i highly doubt even you can do much in the span of twenty seconds.” you groan, sliding down in the seat, “'bedo! would it kill you to play along sometimes?” “it won't kill me, but it might kill your schedule,” albedo shuffles the papers in his gloved hands. “and why is that?” “because,” he says simply, “i'd be too busy thinking about everything you've asked to do with me to get any work done.”

✦ ARATAKI ITTO. [ hanamizaka heroics ]

arataki itto is someone you shouldn’t be caught dead interacting with. despite that, you still find yourself picking up his calls and responding to his texts far too frequently. it started the day you were doing fansigns, as your autograph was highly coveted, and he was the only face that stood out to you in the sea of fans. itto had started by yelling a greeting, prompting your bodyguard to tense as if preparing a fight. you had laughed and returned it, and he had continued to explain that you were his idol and he had formed his own group in the hopes of reaching the same level of fame as you. the green-haired girl beside him scolded him for his antics, but you found him endearing, and for reasons only the archons know, you scribbled your number below your signature. which leads to now, where you now hear his enthusiastic voice through the speakers of your phone nightly as he rambles about his day and updates you on his progress with his gang. it’s a breath of fresh air for you to be exposed to someone so down-to-earth and honest about everything in comparison to the corrupt world you interact with daily. and if you start looking forward to these conversations? nobody else has to know, it’ll be a secret for you two alone.

✦ CHILDE. [ tartaglia ]

“idiot, there are cameras over there!” you tug childe behind a wall, flattening yourself against it as if to make yourself invisible to the paparazzi. “y’know, when you invited me out, i didn’t expect us to be running from the press the entire time,” he laughs, and you elbow him in the stomach, “hey, this time it’s your fault! everyone’s freaking out over the beloved snezhnayan boxer tartaglia returning from his special training in the abyss.” “ow! as if they wouldn’t die for a picture of the world’s hottest heir,” he winces and retorts. “you’re hotter, though, for sure,” you reply without looking back at him, peeking out from the wall to check if the reporters have left. “really? you think so?!” childe’s tone doesn’t betray how happy he actually is to hear that - he’s been in love with you from the day you enrolled in the same boxing class as him when you were both still learning to talk. “hmm…” you turn around and look him up and down, fixing him with your infamous judgemental stare, “objectively speaking, i think you are pretty hot. maybe a 7 on the ‘totally would spend the night with’ scale.” “only a 7?! whyyyy?” childe whines, and you laugh. you’d never admit how handsome you really think he is, and how it’s probably impossible to rank him on the aforementioned scale when you’ve been wanting that since forever. “anyways, i think this place is a no-go. maybe we should just head to your place instead,” you sigh, realising the eager paparazzi aren’t going to leave anytime soon. “sure! i’ve got a new bottle of firewater we could crack open too.” “then what are we waiting for? i can practically hear it calling my name already,” you skip off and childe rushes after you, “no fair, i was planning on doing that first!”

✦ DILUC RAGNVINDR. [ the dark side of dawn ]

the sound of clinking cutlery is the only thing audible at the table you're sharing with your potential suitor, diluc ragnvindr. “i'm diluc,” he attempts to break the silence, only for you to coldly reply with obvious apathy, “i know.” he swallows, unsure of how to continue with your clear lack of interest in the date, so he falls silent once more. guilt begins to prick at you for being so harsh, and you cave, “i’m sorry, diluc, that was rude of me. i’m just not very interested in getting married right now, or anytime soon if i’m being honest, so i don’t see the point of this dinner.” diluc blinks; once, twice, thrice before a smile begins to curve his lips, “thank goodness!” now it’s your turn to be confused, “what?” “i don’t want to get married either, this dinner was my manager’s idea. i wasn’t sure how to tell you without hurting your feelings,” he explains, and you beam, thanking your lucky stars that the crisis has been resolved, “then, why don’t we get out of here?” “what do you mean?” diluc tilts his head in confusion, and as his features are illuminated by the chandelier hanging above the two of you, you can understand why he’s often voted the most eligible bachelor of teyvat. “we can just hang out without all this formality! i promise it’ll be a night you’ll never forget,” you grin, reaching out your hand to pull him out of his seat. “sure,” diluc returns your smile, and to hide how flustered you are after realising that his smile is actually very pretty, you wink, “if you’re lucky, a deal with my brother’s company won’t be the only thing you leave with tonight!”

✦ GOROU. [ canine warrior ]

“mx y/n, that’s the third dating scandal this month!” gorou scolds, rushing after you as you stride down the corridor. “nice, new record!” you cheer, and gorou thinks you must take pleasure in driving him to an early grave because, “that isn’t a good thing!” “shame, because i was planning for my next one to be with you,” you wink before whipping out a compact mirror and reapplying your lipstick. gorou's stunned silent, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish for a few seconds before he composes himself, blocking out any and all thoughts of you ever dating him. but just as he's about to speak again you cut in, placing your hand on his shoulder and pulling him close, “imagine the headlines; useless scion elopes with their own public relations head! crazy, right? the public would eat that up.” gorou is this close to spontaneously combusting but thanks to his sheer willpower he manages to keep it together. but when you continue, “i bet stocks would rise like mad too, then you'd finally be able to get a better job than hounding me all the time, gorou,” that's when he speaks up with a passionate outburst, “no! i enjoy working for you, and i wouldn't change it for anything.” now it's your turn to be shocked, but you recover quickly as you grin, “what about in exchange for me never getting involved in controversy again?” gorou flinches before smiling, “you drive a hard bargain.” “you know it, gorou! and by the way, i was serious about what i said earlier. you can be my next scandal!” “what?!”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

kazuha’s been topping the charts ever since the release of his debut album, and with his dashing looks and charmingly flirtatious personality, he’s captured hearts across the globe - yours included. you know you’re bound to bump into him sooner or later with all the high-class events you both attend, but when it actually happens, you’re caught like a deer in headlights. it’s your birthday function out of all things, except this is the boring one you’re forced to host for the sake of maintaining business relationships and a popular image with the public, so you’re about to doze off at your table when someone plops into the seat beside you, “happy birthday!” upon recognising his voice you jerk your head up at once, “kaedehara kazuha?!” “y/n l/n?!” he imitates your tone, and you can’t help but beam, “i can’t believe you’re here, i love your music!” “thank you! and it’s wonderful to meet you, mx y/n. but it seems like you aren’t having a good time at your own party,” he raises an eyebrow, “why?” “this party is just for formalities, so it’s super boring,” you sigh, but then you smile, “i’m holding another one tomorrow night just for my friends and i though, if you’d like to come!” “it would be my honour,” kazuha says, “but how about we hype this party up too?” “how?” “i’ll perform onstage right now. a super special love song for y/n l/n’s birthday,” he deepens his voice so it sounds more dramatic, and it makes you laugh, “i get to see kazuha singing live? maybe this birthday isn’t so bad after all.” kazuha lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it with a wink, “i’m about to make this your best birthday ever.”

✦ KAEYA ALBERICH. [ frostwind swordsman ]

it’s been a while since you last saw kaeya. he’s incredibly elusive, showing up at the most random events when he feels like it, but the tabloids eat it all up and treat him like one of life’s great mysteries. to be honest, even you’re more than a little curious about the man with blue hair and the ability to do as he pleases without a care in the world. “looking for me, sweetheart?” you look beside you with surprise, and you’re met with the icy eye of the one and only kaeya alberich. “awfully arrogant of you to assume that, mr alberich,” you reply smoothly, matching his piercing gaze with one of your own. handing you a glass, he smirks, “call it intuition.” “i didn’t take you for a telepath,” you deadpan, taking it and nodding a thanks. “i wish i was, so i could understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” kaeya drawls, “or even better, your heart.” “moving rather quickly, aren’t we?” you step nearer, and his enigmatic smile deepens, “isn’t that your style?” it seems like kaeya alberich is getting way too ahead of himself, and as the resident flirting monarch, you feel it’s your job to knock him down a few pegs. “no, this is,” and with that, you grab his tie and tug him closer, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek before pulling away as if nothing happened. “come find me later if you figure out how to match my style, kaeya,” a catlike smile graces your features and you disappear into the crowd on the ballroom floor, leaving a starstruck and quite possibly lovestruck kaeya behind.

✦ KAMISATO AYATO. [ pillar of fortitude ]

“you seem tense,” the famed model murmurs, tilting his head slightly to face you. his lips brush against the shell of your ear in the process, and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle as you swallow, “who wouldn’t be, in a pose like this?” you’re pressed up against ayato’s torso, his arms wrapped around your waist with his chin resting on your shoulder, and for some reason the heat of his hands seem to be branding your skin even through the layer of fabric. “true. though with your long list of dating scandals, i expected you to be relaxed about this sort of thing,” he glances at you, and you can hear a note of amusement in his tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you roll your eyes, though you can’t help but be pleased that he seems to be aware of your reputation. “nothing in particular. i’m just wondering if i could be added as the latest on the list,” ayato replies teasingly, and your eyes dart to his with barely concealed surprise, “really?” his gaze dips to your lips for a millisecond that seems to last far too long, “yes.” “slow down, pretty boy,” you regain your composure enough to smirk, “how about you start by just giving me your number?” ayato mirrors your expression, mischief glimmering in his irises, “yeah, i can do that.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

“you’re planning on going out wearing that?” the disgust in your stylist’s tone is obvious, he’s not even trying to hide how he feels about your outfit. “yeah, what about it? it’s cute!” you spin around, admiring how the skirt flares as you twirl. scaramouche would rather die than admit how cute he actually thinks you look as you show off the outfit, so he settles for scoffing, “cute if you’re going for a ‘just picked this out of the trash’ aesthetic.” “fuck you,” you laugh, “this is from the latest liyue collection!” you never take his insults seriously, and scaramouche has a love-hate relationship with how his comments are like water off a duck’s back for you. on one hand, if he actually did hurt your feelings, he might just collapse, but on the other hand it also feels like you’re always laughing at him. “liyue designers lost their touch last century,” he rolls his eyes and offers you his hand to pull you into your walk-in closet, “c’mon, if you really want to go out, i’ll pick an outfit for you.” “ooh, scara, you should totally come with me! then we can match outfits,” you lean into him, raising your eyebrows suggestively, “we could look like a couple~” scaramouche desperately hopes you don’t see the red blush darkening his cheeks right now or he’d never hear the end of it from you, so he turns away, “fine, i’ll come. only so you don’t look awful if we bump into paparazzi.” you giggle, seeing an opportunity to tease him further, “then it’s a date!” “no it isn’t!”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

for a bodyguard, shikanoin heizou sure does talk a lot. whether he’s analysing your every interaction for a hint of dishonesty from the other party, or making flirty comments whenever the two of you are alone, he never shuts up. it was your brother's idea to get you a personal guard, and out of all the candidates, he picked the playful one with mischievous olive eyes and a smirk always tugging at his lips – you don't understand why. you're confused until the first time you see him in action, which happens to be at a fashion event where some creep snuck in. in one swift movement, heizou pulls you behind him with a whisper, “i’ll deal with this,” before darting forward and incapacitating the stalker with a few well-placed punches and a final kick to his stomach. after handing off the weirdo to the gawking security personnel, heizou rushes back to you, “are you okay?” “yeah… i just didn’t know you could fight like that.” “well, i wouldn’t be much of a good bodyguard if i couldn’t fight, would i? anyways, you can praise me now,” he strikes a pose as if expecting applause. “don’t let it get to your head, dumbass,” you laugh at his antics, “but you were pretty cool.” “i know,” he smirks, “and now you know i’m good with my hands.” “heizou!”

✦ THOMA. [ protector from afar ]

you’ve never seen the cleaners of your penthouse. sure, you pay them, but you’re almost never at home to see who they actually are and to thank them for their hard work. just your luck that the one time you’re having an awful day and crying at home is the day one of them come in. he walks into the room humming, hands shoved casually into his pockets until he catches sight of you, “huh? wait, mx y/n?! i’m so sorry for intruding, i didn’t realise you were at home.” “it’s fine,” you brush it off, well aware that you look like a total mess right now with your puffy face, “but i’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” “of course not!” he blurts out before falling silent again. this has got to be the most awkward moment of your life. someone walked in on you sobbing your eyes out and looking like you just left a horror movie set, and to top it off it's someone you don't even know – it's enough to make you want to burst into tears again, and unfortunately you're currently so emotional that you actually do. “hey, hey, hey, what's going on?” the person from earlier is in front of you in a flash, “do you want to talk about it?” “i don't even know your name!” you manage to hiccup while crying. “oh, right! i'm thoma,” he introduces himself. “it might be easier for you to rant to a stranger, and i can promise you,” he mimes zipping his mouth, “my lips are sealed.” honestly at this point you so desperately need a shoulder to cry on that you'd take anyone, even the incredibly handsome man you met around five minutes ago. so you launch into a huge tirade about your insecurities and problems, and throughout it all thoma listens intently with a straight face, nodding at intervals and offering advice only when you ask – you might just need to marry him after opening up so much and receiving such a good response.

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

it seems like xiao never talks. it’s not exactly a bad thing, especially since he’s kept his mouth shut about more than a few shady places he’s dropped you off at, but you find yourself wanting to know more about the mysterious driver with the amber eyes. however, you’re greeted with silence whenever you attempt to start a conversation or ramble about your day, and you’re beginning to think you’ll never get to talk to him. until one night, when you stumble into the limousine later than usual reeking of alcohol, clutching your heels in one hand and your bag in the other. xiao’s already surprised enough by how you’ve clambered into the passenger seat rather than the spacious rear lounge, but when you lean over to him and clutch the lapels of his crisp white shirt, he’s pretty sure he’s on the brink of a heart attack. “xiaooo~” you whine, slurring the syllables of his name, “why do you hate me?” he thinks you won’t remember this the next morning, so it should be fine to reply, “i don’t hate you.” “liar! you never want to talk to me!” you pull away, tears brimming in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. “no, no, no, don’t cry,” xiao doesn’t know how to comfort anyone, but the sight of you crying is something he never wants to see, so he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing circles on your back, “i can’t talk while i’m working, that’s all.” “then… what about after?” you sniffle, “after work?” “yeah!” “i could probably talk then.” “okay, good, because you’re super handsome, and i love your hair, and your eyes, and your face,” your eyes light up, and you tousle his hair, moving to poke his cheek and cup his face with your hands, “and just everything!” xiao’s face is practically a tomato right now, and he tips his hat down to hide his expression, “i like everything about you too.” “yay! then let’s talk after work!” you cheer, sliding back into your seat. “sure, if you remember,” he replies with a soft chuckle while starting the car again. “of course i will! it’s a promise~”

yet another formatting change bye but this is cute i think i'll stick w it :> // general masterlist

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orion4ever · 7 months

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Omg my gosh. Can i request step 2 tamarack and qiu with a gn mc/reader who is like so smitten with them. And i mean always looking at them with the biggest heart eyes, always lingering with touches and always taking any chance to touch them, doing almost anything for them? They’re so obvious 😭

Author’s note: Hello , Thanks for the request! I found this idea super cute so I hope you enjoy!

Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x MC and Tamarack Bauman x MC

🍂🗒️

Qiu Lin🗒️

They catch on quickly and are smug about it

Qiu probably teases you a little about being so obvious

(They are a hypocrite, Qiu is also head over heels for you. They’re just better at hiding it.)

But deep down inside Qiu’s soul, I feel like they would think MC was just joking around

Giving them love-filled looks, giving them lots of hugs and always having a hand on either their arm or back, etc.

Yeah, just some big practical joke that you’re pulling

If you're the type to be really direct and either straight up tell them that they were like a angel sent down to earth because their greatest sin was being so amazing and their punishment is to roam this cruel earth, reminding everyone who looks at them that they could never compare-

Or just…yuuno. Implying that you have a thing for them

That works just as effectively

Qiu has a soft spot for you, so their touch always lingers on you as well.

Qiu and you were sitting around their hideout. They weren’t feeling it at all that morning and wanted to skip. You decided to give them some support by skipping as well, to keep them company.

Mx. Qiu Lin always felt comfortable around you and was happy with your company.

Qiu laid their upper body on the hideout while their lower half hung off it. You were sitting crisscross applesauce while doodling in a notebook, which you should’ve been using to write in your chemistry class right about now.

Qiu took notice of this and asked. “Are you taking notes on something?” They teased a little, sitting up, using their elbows to prop them up.

“Just doodling, Qiu,” you chuckled.

"Oo, lemme see that, please,” Qiu asked, now fully sitting up to properly talk with you.

“….Ok! Just don’t peek at the other pages.”

Qiu snorted while rolling their eyes. “No promises.”

You gave them the notebook, and they looked at the drawing you were working on; it was of a few characters from shows you enjoyed and detailed trees.

Qiu nodded and then flipped the page.

“Wha- , Qiu.” You said , crossing your arms with a fond smile.

“Sorry , I did say no promises.” Qiu started before faltering when they saw the page.

While this page also had drawings of trees and a big, detailed sparrow, a good chunk of the page was occupied with a sketch of Qiu.

They took notice of how you flattered and highlighted their features

their eyes when they crinkle slightly, and their shiny hair.

The teenager took notice of how you even added a little heart near the sketch.

“Oh.” Qiu said, a little blush forming before they closed the notebook. “You're really good at drawing, Y/N.” They complimented.

“It's easy when you have a good muse.” You sighed lovingly.

Tamarack Baumann🍂

*twirls her hair* omg, really?

I think Tamarack would be oblivious to it.

She probably thinks you are just really friendly

It mainly stems from her insecurity issues. I mean, how could someone as great as you ever like her? Right?

If anyone told her that you were making heart eyes at her, then she’d think they were trying to pull a prank or something

If you were to heavily hint at her that you had a massive crush on her, then she’d probably think you were being silly

It drives everyone insane, like tearing hair out and clawing out the walls.

Tamarack does have a crush on you too; it's just that her underlying issues with feeling like an outcast make her feel undeserving of you.

You just have to remind and reassure her that you do have a huge crush on her and that she does deserve love.

It was late in the evening, and Tamarack was sitting in her room.

She couldn’t sleep today; her mind wouldn’t let her. She was stressing a little and overthinking about an event her orchestra had.

Tamarack was talented; the way she played was different and had a sort of uniqueness to it. She didn’t think the same, though.

Tamarack was about to try and sleep again when a pebble hit her window, startling her.

"Oh, oh.” She quieted down, remembering that her grandparents didn’t have her problem and were fast asleep in the other room. She made her way to the window and opened it to see something in the dark.

It was you.

“Y/N? What are you doing? It's so late.” Tamarack called down as quietly as she could without it turning into a mumble.

“I have something to show you! I know you can’t sleep right now, and I can’t either." You replied. “It will be quick, I promise!” They motioned for the orange-haired girl to come down.

Tamarack looked skeptically but thought that going outside might help her sleep—nothing like a calm nature walk with your neighbor to help.

It didn’t take long for Tamarack to creep down the halls and out the door.

When she came down, you started to walk, motioning for her to follow you. She followed you to your part of the woods.

You crouched down, and Tamarack finally asked after being silent. “What are you looking for?”. You smiled at her and replied. “Just crouch down and see.”

She did and gasped; it was a bunny nest, and a little group of bunnies were all sleeping. “Oh my god! Oh my god, bunnies,” Tamarack said excitedly, cooing at the baby bunnies.

"Cute right? As soon as I found them, I knew you would want to see them too." You smiled, watching Tamarack with sparkles in your eyes. "I-thank you for showing me." Tamarack calmed down a little and was intent on just watching the bunnies. "The bunnies remind me of you, cute and cuddly." You turned to Tamarack with a warm blush on your cheeks.

"..Pft, OK, you jokester." Tamarack deflected with an even warmer blush.

"....."

#tamarack baumann #our life now and forever #fanfic #qiu lin #olnf mc #olnf qiu #olnf #olnf tamarack #orion fic #orion4ever #gb patch #our life qiu #our life tamarack

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azulsluver · 11 months

Text

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑

tw. aggressive behavior, mentioned hallucinations/murder.

|| Note: You will be addressed as [Mx. LN]—which means last name ||

[01] [02]

you always thought of the good of people, everyone deserves a second chance. with files in hand, you enter the luxuries building filled with lost souls. the very first patient who goes by the name,

Riddle Rosehearts,

waits patiently for your arrival. dying to meet his savior.

the queen has gone mad!

People always told you how good of a person you were. With a pat on the head and a pinch to the cheeks you were a good child with good intentions. Always seeing the bright side of things, aware of current and past situations to make you even more mature. It was a perk everyone adored from you.

Likewise, you wanted to do something more with your kindness. Studying the human behavior was interesting and unique in your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to help those in need, those less fortunate. Your heart was heavy which often times let’s you trip over the hands that wish to take advantage of you.

Your life was going just where you wanted, hired in a field where you can help the mentally ill, and with a supportive fiance who waits for you every night with a hot meal on the table.

—

(0)

—

With a click of your pen pressing down on the tip, the sound soothing your ears with each press. Your eyes scan over the many files of your assigned patient, it switches up every week with new faces. Wanting to be familiar with them you study each character’s appearance to their background. Interesting, intimidating and beautiful, pictures from mugshots to present photos. Looking up at the clock in the wall besides the clicking of your pen, the handles little movements are just as loud to remind you.

You gather the files back in a neat pile by slamming it gently on the table in order, tucking them under your arm. The pen clipped to your work shirt as the outside of the room gets busy. Heels ponder the floor as you make your exit out of your office, admiring how docile some patients are as they go for a walk near the garden.

The hallways were something you were determined to remember by, each carved figure and painting makes it unique to look. You’re almost too caught up in the beauty of your surroundings to see how your area of people tend to get smaller and smaller.

“Are you insane? You let him speak to me as some peasant!? I can’t take this any longer, I’m reporting this to the headmaster..” A lady screams just across from you.

She storms right pass you without notice, bumping into your shoulder. She’s wearing an ID clipped to her chest, the first thing you thought of was how unprofessional that was but kept that to yourself.

“Ma’am! Please wait—“

“Leave her man, they always complain.” A blue haired guard runs past you, ignoring his coworkers comment.

What an odd encounter. You turn your attention to the more laid back security guard who puts a hand over his neck. Disappointment spreads his features before irking a smile your way. Your lips pull back into one as well, a small wave.

“Say, are you new here? Haven’t seen you around before.” His voice is playful and lively, the atmosphere changing just as quickly.

“I am. I’ve grown accustomed to this place just last week before moving my belongings.” Small talk, but hopefully it was quick because your first patients room just so happens to be right behind him.

“Sweet, we’ll I’ll see you around!” He tips his cap towards you, his walkie-talkie flaring to life as the man from before crackles.

Now that they were out of the way, you noticed that the lady who stormed off left the room you were supposed to enter. Shrugging, you make your way towards the door. Your hand grazes the handle, its oddly making you feel heavy and warm.

You stop yourself from turning the handle.

Knock Knock

“May I enter?”

It’s silent for a moment before you heard someone. You enter. The room is coated in a nice smell of herbs and roses, you close the door gently behind you before looking up to meet the eyes of your patient.

His face is relaxed, yet his lips look more of a frown as his brows are sharp and small. His demeanor is slightly intimidating yet his looks are beyond pleasing to look at. Large eyes watching you as you sit on a chair across from him. He seems to be having tea, his spoon mixing the herbs together. You’re unsure of who has been providing him tea, his records show that he should at least be supervised.

You eye the tea, it’s not hot because there is no smoke piling off it. You get straight to work, clearing your throat.

“Good morning, Riddle. My name is [Mx. LN]. We will be talking just for today, how does that sound?” You place a hand over your chest putting up your best introduction to get him comfortable to speak with you.

He brings the tea cup to his lips, not a noise made but the movement of his throat as he drinks. Riddle seems to be pondering for a moment, gazing at the tea before straightening himself up. His eyes seem to glare at you now, the sudden change of his attitude didn’t alarm you however.

“You’re much more civilized than the current one. How rude of her to walk out so sudden, it’s not my fault she can’t handle simple criticism. Doesn’t she know who she’s speaking too!”

Interesting, you nod along to his angry rant, taking note on how his pupils dilated and how the grip on the teacup makes his knuckles turn white. Strangely enough his body heat is clear to the eye, his face contorts from a lovely looking man to some angry sports fan. The redness on his face nearly matching his hair.

Riddle let’s out a sigh, that got out of his system and he never felt better when not being interrupted.

“Apologies…how crude of me to behave towards my underlings.” You blink.

There is a small silence again, you aren’t sure on how to respond, not when his smile is nothing but comforting. Was he aware of his behavior? How he speaks to you like some higher being yet with a tiny pinch of kindness.

Almost like child playing make believe.

“I see. I can understand how upsetting that is. Is there anything else that’s upsetting you?—“

“My king.” Riddle snaps at you, his brows furrow at you.

“Pardon?”

He makes a face of irritation, you’d have no choice but to play along to not further anger him.

“Right. My king..” The name is funny yet sends goosebumps down your arms. “I’m here to listen for your troubles.”

There’s a flash of calmness through all those fury, his breathing is much more softer and so was the atmosphere. You played carefully with your words, testing some phrases to see how he’d react. Riddle doesn’t like any back talk from what you’re understanding. His records were right about this “delusion” he’s been experiencing lately. A terrible outburst, stuck in the past as he believes rightfully the name he’s being addressed by is appropriate.

Although it’s unhealthy to encourage this behavior, you’ll try to worm your way into his comfort. That way things could be settled easier, communication would flow once he’s trusted you enough to set personal boundaries.

Riddle thinks over his next response, touching his forehead with a silent hiss. Medication, each patient must have medication in the morning. You cough into your hand.

“Have you taken your medication yet?”

“No…that imbecile of a woman has not yet fulfilled her duty.” You’ll call someone in later to give him his meds. Maybe next time he’d be more docile.

Time goes much slower than you expected. You get to understand a picture of Riddle’s world or view. He’s seeing things that shouldn’t be there, but those are rare occurrences. You don’t disagree over certain topics, he enjoys talking about the garden he gets to visit during his free time. Riddle is much more kinder when agreed upon, he wants things his way. Although it isn’t entirely that difficult to twists those needs.

By now he’s finished his tea, you’ve been chatting for a good hour now. You stand up and bowed a goodbye for your leave, Riddle was pleased with it at least. As you close the door behind you with a huff, you remember to report his medication to his personal nurse.

Trey, was it? You have plenty of time to get to know your new colleagues.

—

(0)

—

The door shuts with a soft click, it rings a melody in his ears. Riddle frowns at hearing your footsteps slowly disappear. He sits quietly in his seat, taking glances at the empty tea cup and white clean room. The light above him burns when he looks up. He’s bored. No one is around to talk with, not until another hour or Trey comes back.

…..how silly, he does have friends to talk to. He can’t wait for free time, there’s a white rabbit hidden behind rows of rose bushes. It doesn’t make much noise anymore, but it’s good company.

#asylum!au #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader

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waitmyturtles · 8 months

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At a bar in Euljiro, one of Seoul’s up-and-coming hip neighborhoods, two voices intertwined in a duet. One was high-pitched, the other an octave lower.

But there was only one singer, a 27-year-old named jiGook. The other voice was a recording made years ago, before he began his transition and hormone therapy deepened his voice.

“I don’t want to forget about my old self,” he told the 50 or so people at the performance, a fund-raiser for a group that supports young L.G.B.T.Q. Koreans. “I love myself before I started hormone therapy, and I love myself as who I am now.”

Like many other South Korean singers, jiGook, who considers himself gender fluid, transmale and nonbinary, wants to be a K-pop star. So do Prin and SEN, his bandmates in QI.X, a fledgling group that has released two singles.

What makes them unusual is that they are proudly out — in their music, their relationship with their fans and their social activism. They call themselves one of the first openly queer, transgender K-pop acts, and their mission has as much to do with changing South Korea’s still-conservative society as with making music.

In the group’s name — pronounced by spelling out the letters — Q stands for queer, I for idol and X for limitless possibilities. Park Ji-yeon, the K-pop producer who started QI.X, says it is “tearing down the heteronormative walls of society.”

Very few K-pop artists, or South Korean entertainers in general, have ever been open about being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or queer. Though the country has become somewhat more accepting of sexual diversity, homophobia is still prevalent, and there are no legal protections against discrimination.

For entertainers, coming out is seen as a potential career killer, said Cha Woo-jin, a music critic in Seoul. That applies even to K-pop, despite its young, increasingly international fan base and its occasional flirtation with androgyny and same-sex attraction.

“K-pop fans seem to accept the queer community and imagery so long as their favorite stars don’t come out explicitly,” Mr. Cha said.

That’s not a compromise that QI.X is willing to make.

The bandmates’ social media accounts, which promote their causes along with their music, are up front about who they are. So are their singles, “Lights Up” (“The hidden colors in you / I see all the colors in you”) and “Walk & Shine,” which Mx. Park says “celebrates the lives and joy of minorities.”

“Someday, we want to be on everyone’s streaming playlist,” said Prin, 22.

As a producer, Mx. Park, 37, who identifies as queer and nonbinary, has worked on hits for well-known K-pop acts like GOT7 and Monsta X. But she wanted to make music that spoke directly to people like her, with “an artist who could encapsulate our lives, love, friendships and farewells.”

She met some of the QI.X members through a K-pop music class she started in 2019, designed with queer performers in mind. (In other classes, she said, “It was assumed that female participants only wanted to learn girl-group songs and male participants only boy-group songs.”)

SEN, 23, said that when Mx. Park asked her to join QI.X, “it was as if a genie in a bottle had come to me.”

SEN had been a dancer and a choreographer for several K-pop management agencies, including BTS’s agency, Big Hit Entertainment, now known as HYBE. The people she worked with knew she was queer, and they were welcoming.

But whenever she auditioned to join an idol group, she said, she “never fit the bill for what they wanted.” People would say she was too short or boyish, or comment about her cropped hair.

That’s not an issue for QI.X, which doesn’t aspire to the immaculately styled look of the typical K-pop act (and, in any case, couldn’t afford the ensemble of stylists those groups have). Individuality, they say, is part of the point.

QI.X often performs at fund-raisers, for L.G.B.T.Q. and other causes, and sees its music as inseparable from its activism. Maek, for instance, an original member who sang on both singles but is on hiatus from the group, works for the Seoul Disabled People’s Rights Film Festival and volunteers for a transgender rights organization.

With no support from a management agency, Mx. Park and the group do everything themselves. They handle their own bookings and manage their social media presence, recording videos themselves to post on TikTok and Instagram.

Many of the videos are shot at LesVos, an L.G.B.T.Q. bar in Seoul that often serves as QI.X’s studio and rehearsal hall. Myoung-woo YoonKim, 68, who has run LesVos since the late 1990s, grew up at a time when lesbians were practically invisible in South Korea. “I would often think, ‘Am I the only woman who loves women?’” they said.

The QI.X members adore Mx. YoonKim, whom they call hyung, a Korean word for older brother. During a recent video session at LesVos, after dozens of increasingly comical lip-syncing takes of “Walk & Shine,” Mx. YoonKim started to join in. Before long, everyone was bent over with laughter.

To a casual observer of K-pop, it might seem surprising that so few of its artists are out. As Mr. Cha, the music critic, notes, L.G.B.T.Q. imagery has been known to surface in K-pop videos and in ads featuring its stars.

Some critics see this phenomenon as “queerbaiting,” a cynical attempt to attract nonconformist fans — or to deploy gender-bending imagery because it’s seen as trendy — without actually identifying with them. To Mr. Cha, it suggests that K-pop has a substantial queer fan base, and that some artists might simply be expressing their identities to the extent they can.

Mr. Cha thinks the taboo against entertainers’ coming out reflects a general attitude toward pop culture in South Korea: “We pay for you, therefore don’t make us uncomfortable.” (Similar attitudes seem to prevail in Japan, where one pop idol recently made news by telling fans he was gay.)

QI.X’s fans, who call themselves QTZ (a play on “cuties”), love the group for charging over that boundary. Many are overseas and follow the group online, leaving enthusiastic messages. “I’m so happy I can finally have an artist in the K-pop industry that I can relate to on a gender level, on a queer level,” one said in a video message to the group. “I’m so excited for you!”

The band also gets hateful messages, which its members do their best to ignore. Prin, 22, is optimistic that attitudes in South Korea are changing. (Joining QI.X was Prin’s way of coming out as gender queer, but friends were much more surprised by the news that Prin was in an idol group.)

The biggest show of QI.X’s career, so far, was in July at a Pride event, the Seoul Queer Culture Festival. In recent years, it had been held at Seoul Plaza, a major public square. But this year, the city denied organizers permission to hold it there, letting a Christian group use the space for a youth concert instead.

Activists saw that as discrimination, though the city denied it. Conservative Christians are a powerful force in South Korean politics, having lobbied successfully for years to block a bill that would prevent discrimination against gay, lesbian and transgender people. Organizers held the festival in Euljiro.

For its set, QI.X had about 20 backup performers, some of whom were their friends (Mx. YoonKim was one of them). They had rehearsed only once together, on the festival stage that morning, because they hadn’t had the money to rent a big studio.

Christian protesters were picketing the festival, some with signs that read “Homosexuality not human rights but SIN.” But fans were there, too. As QI.X sang “Lights Up” and “Walk & Shine,” hundreds crowded in front of the stage, many wearing headbands that were purple, the group’s color. There were Pride flags, and signs that read “We only see you QI.X.”

Hours later, the excitement still hadn’t faded for QI.X. “I felt alive for the first time in a while,” SEN said.

Text by Jin Yu Young, photos by Chang W. Lee (if you have a NY Times subscription or a free trial, the videos and photos of this piece are wonderful!)

#qi.x #lgbtq+#lgtbq+ rights in south korea

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just-a-random-dead-thing · 1 year

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~Lost and found~ (Larissa Weems x student!reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

Sorry for the longer than expected wait! Mocks are a bitch and a half! The reader is a snarky little shit in this chapter btw- The chapters will be getting slightly longer as I get more comfortable with the story but please let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (1.2k words)

Thank you for all your kind words about the last chapter <3 I hope you continue to enjoy my shitty angst!!!

Lastly thank you once again to @thefangedman for the editing to make the story make any semblance of sense. You should check out their Tiffany Valentine fic! It's amazing!!!

Static takes over my senses. I slowly come round from my near death experience at the hands of my own Headmistress - ‘my duty is to protect all the students within these walls’ my ass. The glaring lights start to bother my shut eyes, begging me to open them and rejoin the living world. I'll give it 5 more minutes. I haven't had a nap like this in years.

Just as I'm getting comfortable, I hear the tapping of heels on a wooden floor, pacing back and forth. From what I can piece together, Weems accidentally impeded my ability to breathe; I passed out and she has dragged me to her office because she's too embarrassed to tell the nursing staff what happened. Hmm... I should have some fun with her. Fake amnesia seems like it'll do the trick. I mentally smirk, thinking over the horrified reaction I'll get to see on her face.

I flutter open my eyes to play into the act of just having awoken. I stare at the ceiling, hearing her rush towards me. "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, how are you feeling? It appears you... umm, passed out in the corridor."

I turn to face her, sitting up on the leather sofa I'm lying on. I rub my forehead, slightly obscuring my eye as a confused expression crosses my features.

"...I'm sorry but who is Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, and who are you?" Her face, like I thought, is priceless - she even backs away slightly.

Her voice quivers as she talks, an unfamiliar tone in the usually confident woman.

"S-shit...no no no. This can't be happening, I d-didn't. God, what am I going to do-" with this, she grips my face in her hand, the other removing my own from my forehead, grasping it gently as our eyes meeting in perfect alignment. The only difference is her eyes are glazed over with tears that will fall any second, "I am so sorry, Y/N..."

God, this was meant to be fun, but it's just depressing.

I swear, she has an ability to suck all the joy out of anything I do. I roll my eyes at her, but in reality a small part of me feels regret. Regret over my actions, regret over leaving her in this state, but alas, I repress this thought and lean into the anger. I rip my hand out of hers and shove her away from me.

"You're so annoying! I can't even prank you after you nearly murder me without you sucking the joy out of it. Also- thanks for being too scared to take me to see the nursing staff, or even an actual fucking doctor incase God forbid you got into trouble. I could have gotten actual brain damage-"

I am interrupted mid-rant when she embraces me, her face buried in my neck, now fully sobbing. Fuck. Why do I always have to be such a blunt asshole? I need Noah to translate my words into nice ‘feeling protecting’ ones, he's good at all the dumb emotional stuff. Normally I am at least okay at faking, and I can get by, but everything just feels so foggy. No matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate on finding the right words.

I feel awkward as her hot tears sear into my skin like a mark of shame. I bring my hand to her head, undoing her usual pristine hairstyle. I run my hand over her scalp and the nape of her neck, gently scratching her skin. She calms down slowly, relaxing more into me more. My hand slows with her tears, until both cease and we remain there, unmoving for what feels like eternity. Neither one of us knows how to proceed, not wanting to ruin our brief moment of peace and unspoken understanding of what the other needs.

It has to end eventually however, and I am the one to do so, saying words I never thought I'd utter to this woman in my life. Before I can gather what to say three simple words cross my mind, "...I am sorry."

No. I will never apologise to this woman.

Instead I simply remove all venom from my being. I render myself completely vulnerable to her, a spider without its fangs, completely defenceless. "I don't think before I speak. As you know I'm not exactly great at the whole communication thing. So understand, I did not mean to hurt you. I just struggle when taking others emotions into account and instead I chose to be selfish by lashing out at you, it was immature of me."

The air felt thick as I tried to regain my lost stoicism. I feel shame and pity for both of us. I pry her away from my body as I stand, desperately needing to leave, but my legs buckle beneath my weight as everything goes blurry - fuck. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

Before my body can meet the welcoming ground, I am snatched by a set of strong arms. She turns me to face her once more, before gently setting me on the settee. She turns away from me walking towards her desk as she speaks, her voice still not quite back to it's typical happy/mildly aggressive cadence.

"I had the nurses come to see you here, because I know you don't like the nursing wing of the academy. They said you'd have a mild concussion from hitting your head, and told me to observe you, which is why I didn't put you in your dorm. I know you think of me as being too proud to admit when I am wrong, but I want you to know I will never put my pride before the health of you, or anyone else in this academy."

God, what is wrong with Weems, I think I broke her. She's being too emotional - in the sad way, normally she's just angry. I swear, she speaks exclusively in passive aggressive niceness. I lift my head to properly meet her eyes.

She has taken her seat pride of place behind her desk, having almost the same power behind it as when a queen takes her throne. I begin to verbalise my thoughts.

"Are you on your period? Or are you too old for that... when does menopause start? Oh wait, could it be perimenopause? Oh god, are you pregnant? Can you still even get pregnant?" I become horrified as the last thought even crossed my mind, that poor child.

I notice Weem's equally horrified expression contorting her features, "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N just how old do you think I am exactly? I also don't appreciate the invasive line of questioning, but for your information, no, I am not pregnant."

I shutter slightly feeling her peircing gaze wait for me to answer her. "I want to say, 54...?" Oh God, she looks like she's about to slap me. "54! I beg your pardon, Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, I am 44, and I do not appreciate you aging me a decade! I should give you an extra detention for this alone."

I look at her, wondering if she has been seriously affected by my words, merely her vanity showing as per usual, or if this is her failed attempt trying to be more humorous while scolding me. I run my hand through my hair and let it fall over my eyes.

"I don't give a shit how old you are! You still cried like a baby either way, get over yourself, you're not 2. So what? You nearly murdered someone, we've all been there. You aren't special, so don't expect sympathy from me!"

Weems stands once and strides towards me. I am not interested in her lectures about manners and etiquette, so I leave quickly through the nearest set of doors and out into the corridor, taking a sharp right into the closest room to me.

Grabbing the chair beside me, I barricade the door, allowing myself to slide down it and contemplate all that's happened thus far, while also figuring out an excuse. I look around the room, only now realising I've locked myself within Weems' bedroom.

"Shit."

================tags================

@the-bagel24, @suckerforcate

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #student x professor #wenclair #oc #morticia x gomez #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #marilyn thornhill #mortica addams #gomez addams

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influenzalake · 6 months

Text

(Slight Yandere) Damian Wayne x Shy Fiance Reader - He wants a big wedding

(they/them pronouns, "wife" title, Reader Insert)

Damian sits back in his chair, watching his beautiful Bride-To-Be scurry back and forth.

(Y/N) wants a small wedding, something "cozy" they say. A sweet wedding at Wayne Manor with modest decor and a guest list of their closest friends and family.

Damian cannot fathom wasting this opportunity. To him, this marriage is everything. He wants the WORLD to know he and (Y/N) are madly in love. This is a celebration of his next chapter in life and to any rival suitors trying to take away his fiancee. This wedding would prove to every naysayer and enemy that he is worthy of love. He wants the validation of an extravagant wedding, showing off his wealth and lineage. The power move of inviting all his hero and nonhero colleagues, regardless of relationship status, and making them watch the ceremony. He wants to present his soon-to-be wife and have their full attention when that title is changed.

Damian told his love of his plans, and here they are now. Pacing about all the things that make them nervous.

Having to speak, stand, AND KISS in front of a large crowd.

The overwhelming amount of lights, sounds, and people.

ALL eyes on them.

His beloved looks like an ant stuck in a death spiral. He intervenes as he always does to settle their anxiety before it gets out of hand. Slowly taking their hand, putting their head to his chest, and then leading them away to his seat. Here he places (Y/N) on his knee and looks up in their eyes. He is evaluating alternative wedding plans before a soft voice breaks his focus.

"Do you think we can compromise? May we have a medium wedding please?", (Y/N) says with a giggle.

It takes a lot to break Damian Wayne. When it comes to his bride, it takes nothing at all. Their voice like cotton and their laughter like clouds, Damian crumbles in an instant. He can compromise (maybe-).

A medium wedding could work. It would be at Wayne Manor like his love requested, it would be scheduled during the daytime to reduce harsh artificial lighting, there would be minimal noise interruptions for their sensitive hearing, he could easily guide his bride away if the stimuli is too much. The wedding party could continue at Wayne Manor for hours after the ceremony while he and (Y/N) would be off on their honeymoon. Damian is more inclined to agree to these wedding terms, but the guest list is where Damian hits a wall. Damian may not care much for the invitees he would extend this opportunity to, but he does care about his pride. He wants to flaunt it all. What good is a lavish wedding to portray his precious (Y/N) if there is no audience?

Damian devises a plan to help (Y/N) "get to know" their wedding guests, without really having to get to know them. It is an ingenious way to familiarize them with the vast roster. Damian plans to talk endlessly about his acquaintances, friends, frenemies, ex-friends, some enemies, rivals, colleagues, and even some people he doesn't even know (but his brothers do) to create a parasocial relationship between them and his (Y/N). If (Y/N) THINKS they know a person, from what Damian has them, they would be more inclined to invite them and not be so nervous.

Damian is overjoyed at this solution. It may work, it may not, but he can at least try.

He is going to share this joy of finally having (Y/N)'s hand in his own way.

Congratulations, Mx. Wayne.

#batman #fanfiction #damian wayne #yandere #x reader

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daosies · 4 months

Text

how the universe loves

sigewinne has noticed that wriothesley is in love. irrevocably so.

wriothesley ♡ gn!reader

warnings: lovesick wriothesley, kinda awkward wriothesley, sickly sweet pining

notes: another day another lovesick-ification of a big buff man

wriothesley is hopeless.

he stumbles over his own two feet, his words coming out in a slurred, jumbled mess as he stares at you with wide, pale blue eyes. as if he's afraid he'll miss the sight of you, as if sight alone is not enough.

"so, [name],"—he nearly trips over a slab of cobble—"how are you liking the underworld?"

"i've been here before, duke," you say with an amused expression. "but it's nice. you have a pretty good system here!"

when it comes to you, the duke has a terrible habit of making an utter fool of himself—it's in the way he leans awkwardly against a nearby pole, trying to act cool while the tips of his ears turn red. so painfully red.

"right." wriothesley nods, his voice coming out strained as he watches your gaze drift off into the scenery, soaking in the sights that are now so familiar to him.

as you glance around, wriothesley follows your gaze, taking the time to evaluate the parts of the fortress that you behold, measuring its acceptability based on whether or not it brings a pleasant expression to your face. in the end, however, his icy eyes (that melt only for you) return to you.

he stares at them like, sigewinne struggles to find the word, her hand coming to scratch at her head as she racks her brain for ideas. human emotions are so difficult—they make complex structures out of simple foundations, because although sigewinne knows that what she is seeing is love, that word alone doesn't seem like enough.

when wriothesley looks at you, which he often does, it feels as though he cannot see anything else. when wriothesley looks at you, it feels as if he's looking at a dream, his expression becoming mellow, the scars from his being, etched into his soul, suddenly washing away with the colossal presence of your existence.

you erase parts of him—parts of him that carry the worst of his past, parts of him that have witnessed dread and misery and anguish—and you reinvent him into something airy, something dreamy. something lovely, sigewinne muses. it's like he's reincarnated every time you look at him, every time you do so much as perceive him.

sigewinne thinks that the duke's eyes are wed to you. she's noticed how, whenever you glance at him, his breathing stops. he holds his breath as if he's trying to trap the air you exist in, forcing it to permeate into his lungs, melding it into the tissues of his being.

when you look away, he sighs. the air escapes him, and he's desperate to grasp it, to seize your existence and make it a part of him.

"i really liked the entrance to the fortress," you say, not realizing the weight of your words, "the area where we got to see the water was beautiful."

wriothesley chuckles. "is that so? perhaps i'll recreate it somewhere here then." he gestures around the fortress, feigning ignorance to the machinery and the people who are unaware of his newfound plans.

"but it feels safe right now," you add, smiling, "maybe it's better not to see the water."

"of course," he replies, ignoring the grandiose ideas he had. he was going to rebuild the entire place, starting with the outer walls before transforming the entire fortress into an underwater observatory.

would you find it even prettier then?

"miss sigewinne,"—you give her a gentle smile—"how have you been?"

she jumps up, returning your smile with a giant grin. "great! thank you for all of the tea you've been sending us, mx [name]!"

"yes, that's right." wriothesley nods approvingly. "the tea is wonderful."

"his grace loves every type of tea you send, mx [name]! he always saves them for really, really good days!"

"oh?" you echo. "if that's the case, i'll be sure to send more!"

wriothesley coughs into his fist, and sigewinne huffs proudly to herself.

the duke should thank me later! she thinks.

wriothesley is terribly, terribly in love.

"your grace," sigewinne calls, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. "you can't keep skipping out on your meals and drinking caffeine! it's not good for you health! please, take the day off!"

"sorry, miss sigewinne," wriothesley replies, his voice groggy with fatigue and his hand coming up to massage his temples. "i'll rest right after i finish these papers."

the nurse frowns. "you said that last time."

"this will be the last time," wriothesley assures. "please don't worry too much, miss sigewinne."

you make that difficult to do, she thinks exasperatedly. wriothesley fiddles with his pen, his frame hunched over his wooden desk as he forces his head towards the documents.

when sigewinne traces his gaze, however, she notices that he's not looking at the papers at all. he's staring, fervently so, at the entrance to his office. he's waiting for something, sigewinne deduces, but what?

it finally clicks.

mx [name] has been out on commissions! sigewinne realizes, her eyes darting back and forth between the door and the duke. his grace must be waiting for their letter!

sigewinne clears her throat. "have you heard from mx [name], your grace?"

at the mere mention of your name, wriothesley's head shoots up. there's an indescribable look in his eyes, as if he had just struck a star and resonated it deep within himself.

he opens his mouth to speak, but the star sinks deep into his throat. his words die.

still, sigewinne presses on. "i heard they're in liyue right now. perhaps that's why there are no letters coming in?"

the duke crumbles into himself, as if all the stress in his body were escaping in between his loosened muscles and eased brow, its prominent furrow now replaced with a relieved expression.

"is that so?" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "that's good, really good."

"i'm glad to hear that, your grace," sigewinne states. "now, off to get some rest!"

he sighs, but a smile still creeps onto his face. "alright, miss sigewinne. thank you."

when a letter for wriothesley arrives a couple days later, sigewinne knows. she knows, because the duke's mood has become significantly better. his complexion is brighter, his eye circles beginning to fade as he works flawlessly away at the various documents lining his desk.

if she squints, she can see a certain vibrant, messy paper resting permanently by his hand. it remains there as if it were stuck in time, as if it were glued to the side of his wrist.

there's a stamp on it.

it's a stamp from liyue.

sigewinne hums a sweet tune to herself before strolling leisurely out of the duke's office.

wriothesley is smitten.

sometimes, sigewinne feels embarrassed for him. because when your name is mentioned—or at least, when something that sounds like your name is said—the duke's entire body jolts up. he glances around with those wide, wedded eyes of his, and he slouches once he realizes it's a mere illusion.

the cycle repeats.

whenever the duke knows you're coming, he spends two minutes longer staring at himself in the mirror. sigewinne knows this because any sticker placed on him gets removed in an instant. this includes any stickers on his gauntlets—which the duke usually lets slide until it truly becomes a hindrance.

and he brews tea. lots of tea. and then he puts an odd number of sugar cubes into the cups, even though he usually only takes two. and then he sets the cups down on either side of his office table, his hands fidgeting with the handle as if he's waiting for you to barge through the door and take the cup of tea on the other side of his desk.

it's as if his entire existence revolves around you. as if he orbits you, following the same trajectory and path and never leaving your side, an irreversible distance between you two. but the distance is so small, it feels as if he can leave orbit any minute.

and catch your presence, once and for all.

"your grace," sigewinne says, standing by the doorway. "mx [name] is coming in an hour."

wriothesley laces his fingers, his elbows resting on his desk as he stares intently at the cup of tea in front of him.

"oh. is that so?"

"yes. i think the tea your grace has prepared for them will have cooled by then."

"that is a good point, miss sigewinne. thank you for letting me know."

he pushes the tea to the side—which leaves sigewinne speechless—before returning to the various documents lining his desk. he refuses to drink in your absence.

the tea cools. and sure enough, an hour later, you barge through the grandiose, golden doors of his office.

"duke!" you exclaim, hauling a sack of goods from your travels. "what's up!"

he stands up immediately. wriothesley takes long, quick strides over to your side, his hand outstretched in order to take the large bag from you, his eyes filled to the brim with indescribable emotion.

if sigewinne had to describe it—the look in his eyes—she'd say that his irises swirl with a fervent warmth unbefitting of a duke. the glaciers of his eyes fragment, revealing bits and pieces of vulnerability, of adoration as he stares at you and soaks in your every word as if it were a wild song.

and his irises reflect your figure, your face, your smile. his pupils behold you, taking in everything and keeping nothing, as wriothesley clutches tightly onto the bag of your rewards, his attention fixated wholly on you.

his ears follow you across the mountains of liyue and the plains of mondstadt while his eyes follow the flutter of your lashes, the curl of your lips.

"the lantern rite was gorgeous," you say quickly, your words rising with excitement, "and the final night with the mingxiao lantern—that was incredible!"

"really?" wriothesley says, almost breathlessly.

"yeah, and not to mention the ludi harpastum of mondstadt..."

when wriothesley listens to you, sigewinne notices the way he leans in a little. the distance between his orbit and your existence becomes smaller and smaller, until only slips of candlelight separate the two of you, until the only thing that exists in this makeshift solar system is you and him.

sigewinne is a spectator. she witnesses, in full, the way wriothesley attunes himself to you. he trails after you, basking in the sound of your voice and the way it rises whenever you get excited. he follows you closely, narrowing the proximity, grasping at your atmosphere.

one of these days, he's going to change the trajectory of his life. he's going to make it so his orbit collides with yours, so the two of you will no longer be separated by space, by anything.

he's smitten—so, so smitten.

he stares at them like, sigewinne finally finds a word. like they're enchanted. like they're a dream.

smiling contentedly to herself, sigewinne slips through the grandiose doors of the duke's office, leaving the two planets alone. drifting aimlessly in the galaxy, crafting a solar system of their own.

wriothesley is in love.

#wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #wriothesley #genshin

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writing-with-gremworm · 7 months

Text

The Winter Duke

Notes:

Mentions of/implied abuse

Unhealthy relationship dynamic

Obsessive behavior

Yandere!Wriothesley

A little slow to start

The Duke of the North is a terrifying and cold figure. He is said to have slaughtered thousands and abandoned many to the monsters plaguing the snows. So it came as a surprise to you when he seemed like an ordinary guy during your first conversation.

"You must be (Y/N). I'm sorry you had to come here on such short notice, but I can assure you that this arranged marriage will not be permanent." The cold Duke states, motioning for me to sit down, "In the meantime, we have much to discuss. I don't expect your help for free."

"Ah, yes, that is only fair." Your voice quivers slightly. You were surprised he offered you such a deal. Generally speaking, you were seen as useless given what your power was. You had an affinity for minor mimicry. This meant you could make ice cubes after someone made a glacier, or a glass of water after someone made it rain. The power itself was weak, so it was dismissed. Especially since you came from a long line of saints. The (L/N) family were known as some of the greatest healers. Though how that healing was developed was a family secret and one that made you want to throw up when you thought about it. Your skin itches a bit at the thought.

"First, allow me to make a proper introduction. My name is Wriothesley, the Duke of North Fontaine."

"You've already gathered my name ... um, Rizzley."

"Wriothesley."

"Rizzley, what exactly do you expect of me? I know you seek the (L/N) name because of its ties to previous saints, do you seek a healer? If so, I can not help you." You state simply, looking at Wriothesley with a shakey gaze. Your heart was racing, he was said to be the coldest man in the empire, how could you not shiver?

"No, I already know you're the black sheep of your family. What I seek is your ability to move freely. I am confined to this place, as such, I need eyes. One who is as, and forgive me for this, generic as you will go unnoticed." You wince a bit and sigh. You were glad he wasn't going to kiss up to you because of your title, but it still stung to be told so blatantly you were boring.

"No, that's a fair assessment." You smile, Wriothesley's lips flatten more, but you don't notice, "But why can't you just leave? I know the social world has cast you in a ... less than positive light ... but you're not trapped here are you?"

"We'll discuss that when it becomes relevant. For now, just know I can not leave the North."

"... Cryptic. But okay. So, what will you offer me?" You swallow, looking at him with feigned courage. Your heart beat so quickly it felt like a hammer was bashing against the burdensome ribcage acting as a wall.

"If you help me, I will help you. This means you can ask for anything. A villa, money, even fame." Was he serious? You couldn't sense any change in tone, and he didn't put on a fake smile like your father did when he wanted something. Maybe you wanted to believe him. Maybe you should.

"Money ... sounds reasonable." You start, taking a shallow breath before continuing, "But you'll have to compensate me appropriately. Let's write a contract detailing what you want from me and what you think it's worth. I'll adjust it as needed to fit my conditions."

"... Alright. I can do that. Louis, escort Mx. (L/N) to their room." Wriothesley looks to his attendant and gestures toward me.

"Of course, Your Grace." Louis states with a polite smile, "Come with me Mx. (L/N)."

-- After the door closes Wriothesley smiles a bit before quickly covering his mouth.

"They're even better in person ... Ah, I hope you stay for a very long time (Y/N)" Wriothesley mutters to himself.

In truth, Wriothesley has been watching them for a long time. Fleur, his assistant, helped curate rumors to make the (L/N) family give in to his wishes. --

Louis opens the door to your room and you're surprised by its grandeur. It's a stark contrast to the attic you'd lived in before this. In the (L/N) family you aren't permitted to live in the second-floor rooms until you've awaked holy power. As you did not awaken said power, you were forced to remain in the attic. This attic was designed to test the limits of your body to encourage the propagation of holy power. Though, no matter how much you were tested, not a speck of holy light flowed through your fingertips.

Laying on the fluffy bed you close your eyes. If your bed had been like this, would you have been less tired? You don't know, but you can feel the exhaustion setting in. The distance between the Duke's estate and your own was several weeks without a magic portal. Given the prowess of both families, you only had to spend a few days on the road. The trip was still unpleasant. As part of the (L/N) tradition, you had to ride in the most frugal of carriages and fast daily.

"I'm scared." You admit, hugging your pillow tightly as your heartbeat lulls you to sleep. The familiar racing pace creates a frame to justify rest. After all, you already knew the pattern, it was too tiresome to punish someone half asleep, they never seemed to remember properly.

"So this is all?" You look at the contract, surprised it is so short.

"Yes, that is all. It is simple and to the point. I'm quite certain you'll be happy with the terms." Wriothesley states simply, leaning onto his hand as he glances over you. His silver eyes seem to pierce through you. You avert your gaze and quickly read the contract.

"So you wish for me to be your face?" This was troublesome. Your face in the social world was not well known, but your name was the current gossip of high society. Would you really be okay if you became his face? Surely Wriothesley, someone of Ducal status, already knew this. So why?

"That's ... one way to phrase it. Yes, as stated there, you'll be taking my place in socials and surveying the territory while I am still bound to my place." Wriothesley's expression shifts slightly, a hint of annoyance clouding his eyes before his gaze returns to a neutral state. You flinch without realizing it, it would be too much to ask him more now. It was safer to accept this.

"This ... is too much Mora. Besides, this contract doesn't detail the marriage aspect. I thought that was part of this." This much was reasonable, it didn't make you seem weak, and you could still get more information.

"The marriage is set to last until I'm no longer stuck in this place. I will write that down if you need."

"... Alright. I didn't realize you were the forgetful type. I thought that was my role." You write down that and alter the amount of Mora you'll receive before handing the document back to Wriothesley. You swear he smiles a little when you pass it over.

"Well, now that the contract is settled, I'll have Louis fill you in on your first task."

"Right, right, you're probably busy since you still have to do all of the paperwork." You nod and look over to Louis who has the same polite smile as yesterday. Besides, this was a great excuse to leave the room.

-- "Fleur, I have a task for you. Can you do some research into the secrets of the (L/N) family? Ah, and look into Transfer Relics." Wriothesley had a feeling his reports were missing something, while he liked this malleable version of (Y/N), they seemed different from what he'd been told.

"Transfer Relics- but aren't those only effective at moving curses?"

"Exactly." Fleur knew what that meant. She thought (Y/N) was fragile, a glass bird riddled with imperfections. Maybe that is why Wriothesley had taken an interest in them.

"... Understood, Your Grace." Fleur was sure now, Wriothesley's interest in (Y/N) would act as their cage, and she had no intention of saving them. At least in a cage, the glass might not break. --

"Eh? Wait, I have to attend the Royal Assembly? I guess that's why this marriage was so rushed." You mutter. You swallow nervously and place a hand to your chin. Your eyes dart to the nearest vase so you look preoccupied with thought.

"That is correct Mx. The Duke's family was required to go this time, however, as you can see, only Wriothesley remains of the main bloodline and until you, he had no spouse."

"Ah ... because of the rumors right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Louis pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his eyes, "Ah, forgive me, I'm a little emotional. It's been so long since Wriothesley had someone to call family, however temporary this is." Something about the way he said it made you feel a little bad.

But, this was temporary, and you all knew that. Though, staying here for a while doesn't seem like a bad thing. At least you get to eat multiple times a day instead of just once. Your bed was soft too, it felt much warmer than the firm attic one at the (L/N) residence.

Attending Empress Furina's Assembly is something you never expected to do. Your oldest sister and father attended regularly, but you were never qualified to attend. Even now, you were taking Wriothesley's place, so it felt like you didn't belong. You may have accepted it with open arms, but the doubts you had were so loud. They screamed at you, tearing at your hair and reminding you of what happens when you don't listen.

You make it to the assembly room before your mind traps you in the background. You hear your name announced, but you can't even move your lips.

You try to step out of your head, but something drags you back in. The tendrils of cold and hot wrap around your body and remind you of the torn flesh and the inability to breathe. You try to scream, but nothing comes out. You try to look around, but the only colours surrounding you are black and red. They cover your vision and the red creeps outward. You finally move your hands, only to see them covered in a deep crimson that has started to flake.

"Mx. Are you alright?" A cool voice cuts through the screaming silence.

"A-Ah ..." Your mouth opens, but only weak sounds escape it.

"My liege, I'll escort this guest to a rest chamber, please continue the tea ceremony without us." The man with silver hair tells Empress Furina calmly. The blue streaks reminded you of the water, or maybe of a dragon's horns. Your eyes widen when you realize who is escorting you away from the Royal Assembly.

"Justice Neuvillette ... You need not have left to escort me ... but I ... thank you. I am in no place to berate you for attending to my needs. That would be rude." Your throat hurts, but at least the words seem to sound normal, maybe no one would be able to tell you'd just frozen up. Unfortunately, your legs and hands were shaking noticeably, so it was clear you shouldn't be left alone. The red still faintly overlaid your fingers, it made you want to puke.

You look at your hand and notice Neuvillette holding it. Maybe he thought you wouldn't be able to follow along without guidance. It was sweet in its own right. Neuvillette, too, had a reputation that preceded him so this gentle side was new. Maybe that difference made you feel a sense of calm.

"Think nothing of it. I simply wanted to help my friend's spouse." Neuvillette dismisses it with amusement colouring his words.

"Did you two bond over scary reputations-" You start before covering your mouth with your free hand. Why did your tongue move so freely with this man?

"No, though said rumors are one thing we seem to have in common. If that were a tell, then you'd be my friend too, no?"

"Huh? But I- don't have much of a reputation, do I? As the black sheep maybe, but nothing more."

"Ah, I suppose you're not aware of the other rumors. Then pay me no mind, if such things have not tainted your ears, it is better to leave it here." Neuvillette states, clearing his throat and opening the door for you to step inside the resting area. You furrow your brow.

"But if it is about me, then shouldn't I be aware?"

"Some things are better left unknown. Though, if you wish to know, I will ask you something first. Why weren't your sister and Father with us at the assembly Today?" You look surprised. You hadn't had time to register anyone's faces, just the flood of anxiety that threatened to eat you alive.

"I ..." You start, but you realize quickly your answer wouldn't have made sense. You could have suggested they were both ill or otherwise wished to avoid you, but in public, they always pretended to adore you and they were healers who had excellent natural constitutions, "Someone prevented them from being here today."

"... In a sense, they were prevented from being able to attend," Neuvillette confirms, though his phrasing concerns you a bit.

"I ... see. What does this have to do with the rumors?" You ask pointedly.

"They imply that you're the person who ... barred the attendance of your family." Neuvillette pauses in the middle, clearly thinking about something else before deciding on this phrasing.

"But it doesn't make sense for them to avoid me ..."

"Regardless, you should take a seat and breathe. I'll return to the assembly if you do not wish for me to stay."

"I'll be fine. Thank you." You say certain that you could find your way back when you were sure you were okay.

"Fleur, you've done exceptionally this time. The (L/N) family was keeping this sort of thing, hm? Well, I suppose as a family of healers, it's only right they once held something so precious." Wriothesley smiles, his lips forming a tight curve as he holds a glowing sphere.

"Your Grace, this has caused rumors to spread about your spouse. Should I handle those?"

"... No, rather, we should use them to our advantage, no?" Rumors are what brought them here, so rumors would bring them closer.

"Understood."

"I apologize for earlier, your highness." You bow before Furina once you get a chance to speak with her.

"Hm, well I suppose you should. It's only right." Furina starts before Neuvillette clears his throat quietly, "Ahem, I graciously accept your apology! But to make up for this transgression, you must attend my next Tea Party!" Furina insists, throwing her hand out to point at me. You blink, a little surprised this is the only reprimand someone of her stature is giving you.

In the (L/N) household you had to isolate and pray for several days for your wrongs, especially with something of this caliber. Your knees start to tense up, and your calves pulse with phantom pain at the thought of it. You notice Furina's gaze and realize you haven't responded.

"Oh- yes, of course, Your Highness." You promptly reply with a polite smile. Neuvillette notices something in your demeanor that concerns him. Perhaps, he thought, Wriothesley's words were correct.

Wriothesley was displeased when he heard (Y/N) was invited back to the palace. He was well aware of why, (Y/N) was his spouse, so they should stay nearer to him, but it wasn't time to let them see that side of him. After all, wouldn't they run away? There were moments, little flickers of their gaze, a slight alteration in the way they breathed, a change in stance, or even something they forgot in their routine that told him they were afraid of something, but their smile remained.

He recognized that smile, it was something he had grown tired of using. The mask to deter those who would pray on sorrow. It was the mask someone deeply hurt would use. It was the reason he'd orchestrated the death of the (L/N) family.

"They need me. They need my hand." He mutters. Wriothesley closes his eyes and imagines holding their fragile body in his arms. In this fantasy, one hand was on their fragile neck, the other wrapped around their waist. He imagined how warm they would feel in his arms, how delicate their lips would look as they trembled. His breath hitched as he thought about kissing them, taking their soft lips with his own. The petal-like touch and spring warmth would surely be addicting. He knew, of course, that he was the one who needed them most. Though, he didn't understand how he'd come to adore this fragile being.

Wriothesley opened his eyes and peered at the artifact. He smiled, knowing it was almost time to put it to use.

The day you were to attend Furina's Tea Party approached more quickly than you imagined. You sigh as you look out the window. You wondered if it would be like last time- if you would freeze in place and be unable to speak. Your fingers trembled, so you gripped your dress clothes tightly.

The carriage rattles and thrusts you against its door. You take a moment to reorient yourself before you see the window is looking up into the sky, not the treeline. Your carriage had fallen over.

"Assassins." You mutter. You knew some hated you, but you never thought it was to the point they'd want you dead. Though, did you mind? Before this, hadn't you wished for death?

"I need someone as my eyes and ears." But you were needed now. Even so, was it a position only you could fill? Surely not.

"Found you~ Now, why don't you let your Godfather take you home, hm?" A strange and yet familiar voice coos, accompanied by sullied blue hair and a crow-like mask.

"Godfather- then- Father has died?" You ask, looking at the man, confused. You're not sure if he heard you. Your throat feels stuffy, so the volume of your words is minimal.

"Yep! You have no idea how long I've waited. So, (Y/N), will you come with me willingly? You have nothing to lose, do you?" The man, claiming to be your godfather, whispers cruelly. Your hands shook, and his grin seemed to widen. Did your fear excite him? Who was this? It hit you. This was the 'God' that Father prayed to. But he was no God, not really. His essence was too cruel to be the benevolent God Father claimed to love.

"Y-Your name." You stutter.

"Hm? Well, I suppose I can tell you that, under the pretense, I get to know something from you first. Tell me, (Y/N), what do you think I am?" Did he know what you were thinking? Could he read your face? You didn't know, but your mouth refused to move. His presence felt like a thick ooze, sinking and slipping over your skin, entangling your flesh and clothes in its putrid fluidity.

"I asked a question. Do I need to ask again?" His hand touched your chin, his skin freezing to the touch.

"A false God." You manage. Though you hadn't intended to be so honest.

"A false God? Hahaha! Good, then you don't expect me to be gentle. I am Il Dottore." The man smiled widely, his sharp, shark-like teeth catching light on the edges as shadow cascaded over his face and mask. You press your back against the carriage door instinctually, your body shaking. Why did that scare you? Why did that name sound so familiar? It wasn't the name of a God, no, it was the title of something far worse, far more mortal.

"The Wings of Revolution-"

"Oh? You know of us? Well, that makes it easier." Dottore grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the carriage, "Ah, minor mimicry, what a fascinating skill. I'm excited to learn all about it."

Just like that, it felt like your world was being consumed. How would you escape this? You were frozen in place. A stream of water replaces the spot Dottore's head used to be.

"It looks like I got here on time. I'll escort you back to the Wriothesley Estate. I'm afraid it would be too dangerous to finish the journey to the palace." Neuvillette states with a sigh, "Worry not about Furina, I will discuss this with her." You nod without thinking and look down at the headless body in front of you. Instead of viscera, you notice wood.

"It wasn't ... him ... Then what was that ominous feeling?"

"... Yes, it was Puppet Magic. The real culprit remains intact." Neuvillette confirms your suspicions in an instant. Puppet magic is well known as cruel magic. It is a manipulation of the soul and body. That magic is most commonly used like this, as an extension of the creator's will. In this case, it was a doll made to host a piece of the soul and memory of the creator. Of course, this likely means that the creator knows what happened here since those memories return once the exterior unit is destroyed.

"Then he will come back ..." You realize, your gaze blurring as a rush of nausea grasps your neck and stomach.

"I can not deny that. However, I can assure you that Wriothesley, within his Domain, will stand by you." Neuvillette tries to comfort you. He sounds so sure. You want to believe him. But is it safe? Puppet Master's manipulate the soul. His strangely soothing presence could be a result of that. You nod quietly. Did you have anywhere to go? You had no friends, your family wasn't an option, and Wriothesley was the only one with his arms open to you. Did you have a choice?

Yes. You told yourself. Of course, I have a choice. It's just a bad one. Truthfully, you only had one choice to survive. Despite your prior thoughts on the matter you weren't willing to actively choose demise, it had to take you itself.

"... I have a way to guarantee your safety, but it means giving up your freedom," Wriothesley tells you. His voice is softer than usual, and his eyes look tired. You falter.

"That is the only way. That is what you mean." You mutter, biting your lip. Did you have freedom? Was that a right you felt was worth the risk? You close your eyes and think. The creeping shadows and cold touch creep through your thoughts, scrapping at your mind and digging into you. You stop breathing for a moment before opening your eyes. The world is slightly blurred and you feel unsteady. You came to a decision. Wriothesley was generous compared to his rumors. You knew that the safest option was to be near him in this house. It still felt suffocating, but you knew it was the right choice.

"I'm sorry that this is the choice I can offer you. A binding to this place." What you didn't know was that Wriothesley's heart was racing. His lips had shifted into a subtle smile covered by a thoughtful cup of tea.

"I ... accept. So tell me what to do." Your voice shakes despite your wishes to sound confident. Wriothesley doesn't comment on this, instead he asks you to close your eyes and hold out your hand. There was no other option, so you did as he said. It was only when the whispers of a curse settled in that you understood what he had done. He had given you the same curse he bears. This curse was cold, like steel cuffs clinging to your wrists.

"Don't cry, I'll protect you." Were you crying? The hot tears fall down your cheeks, falling pleasantly into the hungry carpet beneath you. Wriothesley sounds happier than normal, but maybe you're mistaking his kind consolation as something more. He offered you a hug, a gesture you were not well acquainted with. Maybe that is what drew you to it, why you accept his arms so willingly around your smaller frame. His breath tickles your ear as he whispers gentle consolation. His breath feels strangely cold, but not unpleasant.

"I will make sure no one takes you away carelessly." His words were surely meant to be sweet. You knew he was trying to be kind. You just felt a strange sense of sickness twist in your stomach.

...

"I don't take kindly to false promises Wriothesley."

"I did not lie, you have done well to aid me. In return, here are the artifacts you wanted. You may do as you please with them according to our deal."

"I'm sure you'll need my help again soon. You know how to contact me."

"Of course, Doctor, I hope you weren't too bored. You even sent a puppet alone."

"Minor Mimicry. You know that 'minor' mimicry doesn't exist don't you?"

"Of course I do."

...

#genshin impact #yandere #tw yandere #wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #genshin wriothesley #Someone said he was boring #so I decided to make this.#Anyways- enjoy.#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #tw implied abuse #tw implied violence #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #gn reader #reader insert #x reader

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anomaly-beans · 6 months

Text

(Fuck it. Intro post time for my first Fallen London oc…)

You find yourself walking the streets of Spite, the ground covered in a thin layer of lacre. The streets are busy at this time of day, people shuffling about on their own ways. You only notice a change in the air because of said people moving like a school of fish splitting as a shark passes by.

Is that… one of the masters? No… it couldn’t be. This figure is much too short to be one of those towering figures. The cloak that made you believe they were a master trails behind them, much too large on their frame, but still bringing with it a sense of dread and mystery.

The figure marches onwards, seemingly undisturbed by the people staring and moving out of their way. You watch in curiosity as they stop at a wall covered in paper advertisements, staring at the adverts on the wall.

Then, the figure reaches a hand up, the sleeve slipping just enough to show a nasty set of old scars on the back of their hand, before their hand grabs the edge of the hood that obscures their face… and pulls it down. You don’t know why, but you didn’t quite expect to see someone so human under that cloak…

The curly haired figure scrutinizes the adverts on the wall, their nose wrinkling up in distaste at whatever they read, before they sigh and pull out a stack of papers from beneath their cloak, and then a jar of adhesive glue to paste up their own papers. They set to work covering up the advertisements with the papers they brought.

Finally after some time, they turn and march off, allowing you to stalk over and read the new advertisement that the cloaked figure put up.

“Mx. Darthfellow, Silverer Oneirotect for hire. Writer, hunter, zailor, and other miscellaneous jobs upon request. Located at Benthic University offices. Home calls can be sent to the address of the bookshop on the corner of Doubt Street closest to Spite.”

Interesting… you might have to save this information for later usage. Who knows? Maybe you’ll need this Silverer’s services someday.

(Excuse the name on the profile. I made this account so long ago when I wasn’t even playing a character and was just fucking around, so it has my old username as the name)

#fallen london #fallen london oc #anyway there you go. you get my cryptic mysterious intro for them

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cookie-crumblr · 7 months

Note

i need something smutty where jaspers like rlly jealous, i dont have any further ideas but yes .. xD

OH HELLLLLLL YESSSSS, omg anny you’re a genius.

muah~

CW: IDEK OKAY, YANDERE, JEALOUSY, i’ll do GN reader! annnnd rough sex. Jasper still calls us pretty again, to him you’re beautiful no matter who you are.

MINORS DNI!!!!

Okay hold on we’ll get to the smut, but imagine:

Dev.In is not only the only “person” he’d let fuck you as long as He’s still in control.

But Dev is also the only “person” he’d ever be jealous of.

like sure anyone touching you or anything will make him irritated.

but jealous? nah. no one else is anywhere near as hot as he is…

Except a “person” that looks exactly like him and can make their dick whatever they want.

like ?? excuse me mx. if he is not completely in control of the situation he’d go WILD.

You’re chatting, as innocent as a puppy with Dev.In. You put your hand on their arm for a second.

The gall of that bastard, laughing and making you laugh. He bets that their dick is hard.

Stupid horny computer. He thinks.

His leg started bouncing minutes ago and he’s only just noticing.

You turn, sensing Jasper’s energy shift somehow behind you.

His head is tilted, left leg bouncing, blown pupils burrowing holes into Dev.In’s face.

Slowly you make your way over to him, “H-hey Jas… Y’okay?”

He says nothing as get gets up and grabs you.

Pulling you along painfully so, before throwing you into a weird room.

“Safe word. Now.” He snaps.

“P-pineapple?”

“Great. Now don’t say it, Pretty”

“Nev—”

His mouth mutes you as it crashes against yours. a hand is grasping your scalp and ripping your head back so he has easier access to your neck.

His teeth graze you, you can tell he’s angry and holding back.

“Thank you, pretty” He bites where your neck meets shoulder.

His hands grab at, and rip your clothes off.

Soon enough you’re spun around and his pierced tip is teasing your hole.

Precum is lubricating you enough, and you desperately want him now, you push back against him and take in his penis.

Jasper bucks up to bottom out inside of you.

“Fffff-uck” You shiver at the sensations.

“Yeah? This cock feel good, pretty? Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Jasper!”

“Say it again.” He bucks up harder, your whole body shakes with the force.

“I b-belong to you! Jasper!” you’re saying everything he wants to hear.

He starts a steady, but harsh rhythm. “Gon’ fuck you stupid. you’ll only think about this dick.”

He holds your hand against the wall in his own, as he pounds into you. In his other he’s pulling your head backwards by whatever hair you have.

You admire the veins over his bones under his pale skin. It’s beautiful.

“Ah!” he hit something so deep inside you, your body convulses.

“More, pretty,” he demands

He feels so good inside you even after cumming.

The heat builds within you again.

“Jasper! Jasperrr!!” You chant his name knowing how much he loves hearing it. The way your lips purse and your eye brows knit tighter. The way you push harder against him.

He loves it when you get desperate for him.

He fucks you harder and harder still until, “Come with me, pretty,”

As he fills you and twitches inside your deepest parts, you come too, your head high above the clouds.

He holds you in place so that you don’t fall while your legs vibrate.

“Next time I’ll fuck you and fill you up right in front of that horny prick.”

You can’t wait…

“F’r now, take a walk w’ me.” He grins.

He walks you right back to Dev.In and he sits where you had been.

You sit on Jaspers lap, and he moves your legs apart for them to see that you’re dripping with his semen.

He’s smiling, swelling with his usual sadistic pride.

Dev.In and you go back to your previous conversation about house plants and how much sunlight they need.

All while your face is too hot and you’re too dizzy and embarrassed to function.

Jasper pulls you both up to stand, “Well, looks like my pretty pet needs sum more attention. Later devvy~”

#cookie speaks #my oc #yandere #oc x reader #oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere streamer x you #yandere oc #oc jasper #jealous sex #jealous yandere

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anglingforlevels · 9 months

Text

Yours (Reader x Platonic Yandere!Imposter)

I can't walk on my knee, and apparently, knee-pain is the best motivator to write because I sat down and wrote this. Not sure if it makes sense, but alas.

CW: Yandere, monsterfuckery, reader has a brother, mental anguish, straight up no one has a good time in this story, not proofread, dead dove

Minors DNI

Today was an important day.

You hadn’t slept very well, still exhausted to the bone. Nonetheless, you had dressed up nicely for the occasion. A certain anxiety flittering and forcing you to fiddle around with trinkets and empty frames. You really should find a picture for that frame, then again, pictures was always more your brother’s thing.

The unrest culminated in said empty frame receiving a crash course in gravity, repaying the favor by glass shattering across the floor.

Damnit.

“Breaking the apartment?”

You were immediately faced with that question when you sheepishly emerged from your room to search for a broom. Asked by none other than your brother, James, who was lounging comfortably on the sofa, flipping through a magazine, he made a hand motion urging you to come sit too.

“Not yet. I dropped something, alas, my hands must be as smooth as marble, it just rolled right out of them.” You sighed and shrugged, awaiting the usual punchline expectantly. James made the grand sacrifice of looking away from the pages of his magazine to direct a raised eyebrow at you.

“Smooth as what now?” He asked, and your arms dropped, for a moment your expression did too, caught off guard. You collected yourself quickly though.

“Marble. It’s either this lame joke or self-deprecation.” At this, you dramatically sighed and lifted your hand to your forehead, “Oh, it seems even picture frames flees from my touch.”

James wrinkled his nose at this. “Ugh, no, I’d rather have Mx. Marble Hands back then.”

“I’m afraid they’ve perished. Marbled to death. Investigations still ongoing, my money’s on the picture frame.”

“Well, then they kinda had it coming, don’t you think?”

You gasped at this. “Vengeance is never the answer, haven’t you watched any children’s cartoons?”

“Not a child, so no.” He answered dryly. He had been a child at some point, so you weren’t sure what to make of the answer, feeling a bit at a loss, but you powered through.

“Mx. Marble hands deserved better than this. I’d hate to be them right now.”

“I’d hate to be them anytime. Now, please shut up about it and come sit down.”

“Despite how politely you asked, I can’t. Believe it or not – some of us actually have plans.” You said with a joking “hmpf”.

“Whaat, plans? No way.”

“Wha- what’s with the immediate disbelief? Today is an important day. Today’s… It’s…” You furrowed your brow as you faltered, not noticing the way James’ attention sharply focused on you. “…Today is important, isn’t it?”

But why? What was happening today?

“Oh, probably some kind of fight day or independence day? You were always sappy for those.” James laughed, and your expression relaxed as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s important to celebrate that kind of stuff.” You laughed, even though it still felt wrong. Feeling restless once more but without knowing what your plans were, you settled on the sofa next to James who abandoned his magazine in an attempt to convince you to play Street Fighter together, though at your continued rejection, he dejectedly played solo, shifting, and settling up against you as he played quietly.

Relishing the comfortable familiarity and domestic bliss, you closed your eyes with a sigh, enjoying the ache of your tired limbs coming to a rest, and most of all, enjoying the quiet. You liked it much better when he didn’t speak. And then, you felt startled at the thought, how mean it felt. You didn’t like the fact you had thought it at all, so you focused on something else.

You glanced at the sole item on the empty wall: The calendar. It was tacky and ugly, but you had some fondness for it, it was the first item you bought when you moved out to live on your own.

No, you didn’t live alone, you lived with James. Right, the first item for when you and James moved out.

You kept glancing though the date felt significant, it didn’t invoke memories of why, and you felt an odd sense of distanced anxiety at this, worried if you were possibly late for whatever your plans was, yet not feeling anywhere enough panic either, settled into lukewarm worry instead.

“You trying to make time fly faster or something?” James asked, not looking away from the video game he was playing (and losing). You looked away from the calendar at that.

“Maybe it’s just that painful to see you repeatedly lose Street Fighter. You know, you can crouch and kick on repeat, right?”

“I have something called integrity and honor.”

You glanced one last time at the calendar, the date keeping captive the corners of your mind, the ones that felt fuzzy and blurry – just out of reach from what you could comprehend. As you finally gave up on the calendar, you noticed the wall.

Had it always been this empty?

Somehow, the sight made you feel uneasy. “Hey James, why don’t we take some pictures?”

“…I really don’t like that kinda stuff. I’ve never understood the craze about phones and cameras.”

“Oh, I get why you’re bad at games now. You’re actually an old man.”

“Aw, shut up.”

You didn’t take notice of the way James looked at you, your own gaze fixed on nothing at all, an ambiguous expression on your face, as if unable to settle on an emotion among your conflicted, confused state. It was a buzzing, prickling sensation, like when regaining feeling in a numb limb, and it felt like you could unearth what these emotions were, if you just, held on a moment longer, if you let the numbness subsize just a little m-

“How about playing a song on the piano?”

“Oh? Uh, I don’t play the piano.” You said, disorientated, the numbness spreading again. James’ face dropped briefly.

“Then why don’t we watch a movie?”

“Yeah. Of course, sure. Can it be Beauty Squad” You answered almost reflexively. Happy for a distraction, you clung onto the suggestion, as if drowning your own senses in familiarity. James’ resigned compliance to your usual movie-choice felt like a warm blanket, a blissful cover.

The fatigue sitting in your bones made you give in to its warm embrace, how long had you been awake? It was hard to tell when being conscious and unconscious all felt the same.

Familiar tones played out, familiar lines, familiar antics. You thought James wouldn’t like you to rest your head in his lap, but he hadn’t said a thing in protest, silently letting you. Only the sounds of the movie filled the room as James absent-mindedly played with strands of your hair.

If this moment could last forever, then maybe everything would be okay. You could close your eyes to this moment and…

The music became chaotic and fast as the main character crashed down into their own graduation ceremony, saying a corny punchline before the cartoonish chase resumed.

“Pfft,” Your laugh caught James’ attention, and of course, he demanded to know what you were laughing at. “Ah, nothing, nothing. It’s just, this scene is just like when you accidentally interrupted your own graduation ceremony to take pictures.”

“…” James didn’t respond for a moment. And you looked at him… Right, he was in high school right now, wasn’t he?

“It’s… It’s nothing.”

You tried not to look at the empty wall.

You stood up. “Hey, the movie’s still going, sit back down.”

It took you a moment to respond, your mouth felt so dry, and a wave of dizziness hit. “I… I just wanted a snack. I’ll be back in a moment.” James looked blankly at you for a moment, and for a moment it felt as if he was examining you, like standing before a judge, and then he nodded.

You walked, part of you protesting needing permission from him to leave, but your mind wasn’t made up either, stuck in the desire to stay but feeling drowned, as if being swallowed by a vastness. You had to leave. To move. Something. Anything.

Drowning in the dark thoughts of your mind, it felt as if it would burst. Part of you wanted it to, tempted to hit your hands against your temple, as if to make everything spill, splash across the floor and far away from you.

Instead, you walked to the kitchen. One step, then the next. You wondered, in these moments, if he knew how it felt to die while breathing, to drown while on land. One step, then the next. It was all you could do.

In the kitchen, you opened the fridge only to be greeted by empty rows. No one had gone grocery-shopping it seemed. Right, that was your job, wasn’t it? Who else could it be? James was… he was a teen, right. Yeah, that’s right, you were alone.

No. Not alone. James was here, just, you were the only adult here. That’s right.

…

Grocery shopping, right. How long had it been since you went grocery shopping? When had you last gone outside? You looked down at yourself. You were dressed nicely. Right. Today was an important day, wasn’t it?

You felt lost and dizzy, seeking something to support yourself, your hand landed on the wall. The empty wall. Why was this wall also so empty? All of them was empty.

You mistook desperation for determination as you began to look through drawers to find an instant camera. You knew James had one lying around here. Your James had so many cameras.

“But James doesn’t like cameras.” You repeated joylessly. Nonetheless, in your hands, an instant camera. On clumsy feet you began to sneak toward the living room. James, unaware of your presence, sat on the sofa, waiting.

Click.

Looking down at the picture. It hadn’t developed yet. You’d find tacks or something so you could hang it. The sofa creaked as James stood up. He had heard the click probably, and noticed you standing awkwardly in the doorway, clutching something to your chest, of course.

You think, in the back of your mind, that James said something, but you head felt light, as you looked at empty walls. Temporarily empty walls. It would be better now, if you could just fill them out, your life could return to normalcy, and you’d return to the ground.

You looked down at the photo in your hand. Shapes were slowly starting to form, making way for imagery. It was only a flash, barked, hollowed skin, wrongly bent joints, and a yellowly glow, then something grabbed tightly onto your wrist, the photo snatched from your hand before it finished developing.

It was James grasping your wrist tightly, pupils dilated and a tight expression on his face. Then he sighed. “Playing spy, are we?” He smiled but the smile felt sharp and tight, and his laugh felt forced and bitter.

“I… I think I need to lie down.”

“Alright.” He nodded, leading you toward the sofa, but you weakly pulled against his grip, shaking your head.

“In my bed.” You needed to get away, his presence felt cloying, and the empty walls felt as if they closed in on you. You needed a moment. He didn’t stop tugging you toward the sofa, your limbs felt too weak to put up any real resistance.

“Don’t be silly. I can watch over you better from the sofa.”

You pulled harshly at his grip. “No!” He stopped and looked at you for a moment. And you felt little under his glance, unable to explain yourself properly. He was trying to help, but it was wrong, something was wrong. The walls was empty, the fridge was empty, the apartment was… “I… Just a moment, I’ll be out in a moment.”

After a moment, he released your wrist. “Okay.”

You stumbled a bit, having unconsciously relied on the support of his grip. It was the same old sensation of falling, yet your feet never left the ground, was it a dive into nothingness, or a flight into something worse? You never learned because each time, like an anchor, you’d be pulled to the harshness of the ground by a hand on your shoulder and another distracting line, it pulled you back but never caught you in your fall.

You wondered where’d you land without an anchor.

You hurried to your room and was greeted with shattered glass. Right. From earlier, you had needed a broom, and you had to hurry because today was an important day. Your foot touched the broken frame.

The empty walls were left behind, but the room felt even smaller, and you felt tired. Too tired to push against the pressure building, letting it swallow and choke you. There had to be… a picture. Something to put in the frame. Why else would you have it?

Looking through bottom drawers and beneath your bed, it was hard to tell if you had dived onto your knee or if they had simply buckled beneath the weight of your own desperation, glass shards dug into skin as you looked through cloudy eyes.

And, in the corner under your bed, hidden away by pieces of cloth and scattered objects, was a little box. You pulled it out, your hands shook as you opened the little lock with practiced ease, as if you knew the box already.

In the box was carefully placed pictures, all wrinkled as if having been held often. On the roof of the box was a date scribbled, today’s date. You were in many of the pictures, sticking your tongue out at whoever was taking it. And some of them, there was another person, usually laughing together with you.

For a moment, you almost wanted to ask; Who’s that?

Something within you felt like it was going to burst. “James?”

This guy whose smile was entirely different, whose eyes were different, whose build was different – who was different. This was James, and for a moment, you had forgotten. Someone you loved and held so dear; you had forgotten until reminded.

Each time you looked away, it grew hazy once more, and it took just a second longer to recognize the picture again. It felt as if you’d break beneath it all.

“Oh, you want me to pause the movie?” James’ voice called out from the other room. No. Not James. Whoever that stranger was, it wasn’t James, they didn’t even bear a semblance. You wanted to scream and cry and ask, no, demand answers from this imposter.

“Hello, you hear me?” His head peeked through the door-opening, and every word died on your tongue as familiarity enveloped you. It wasn’t… It was not James. Your grip tightened on the picture, as if to remind yourself.

“Hey,” he said, a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t respond, didn’t know how to. But perhaps you didn’t need to as he saw the scattered photos among bloody glass shards. “Come out, I’ll bandage your wounds.” Was all he said.

“You’re not him. You’re not my brother.” It felt like pushing a boulder just to say that. The words felt foreign in your mouth, but you held onto the truth the best you could.

“What’s different about me?” he asked. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. Retaliation, denial, anything but that question.

“It’s… Different. You…”

He laughed. “You really do need to lie down; you must be half-asleep or something.”

No. For the first time today, you felt awake. “No. I know I’m right. You’re not…” You all-but flung the picture of your brother at him. The picture now in view, the person in front of you grew unfamiliar again.

“Does it really matter? If you need a picture to notice we’re different?” Before you had a chance to even respond, he leaned closer, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look away from the scattered photos. “Try it. Describe him.”

…You couldn’t.

“But when you look at me, you remember. Who cares if the memories are right?”

There was a temptation of giving into the sweetness that clung onto his words, the sweet lie feeling more welcome than a truth you feared facing. But you could still feel the photos beneath your fingers, feel the sting of the shards in your skin.

“I care!” Your voice raised and cracked, sharp and jagged like the shards.

Frustration slipped into his sigh. “For now. But as always, you’ll forget again. There’s no point in this tantrum. You don’t want to remember anyway, you’re too fragile for loss, so just-“

His words were interrupted as you nicked his cheek with one of the glass shards. At this he stepped back, releasing your chin. His expression’s thinly veiled exhaustion and annoyance gave way for clear resentment and frustration.

When he spoke, his voice was bitter and low, an almost malicious edge to it.

“Do you even comprehend how much I hold back not to kill you? Every moment, it’s as if your very being beckons me to consume it, that’s why I showed up to begin with. To feed. But I decided to stay, unlike everyone else, I’m staying, I’m here!

Anything you lack, anything you miss – I’ll be that. Your brother, your friends, your old stuffed animals, your childhood, yours. I’m yours. Why don’t you und-“He stopped his increasingly fast rant, sighing in tired frustration. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’ll be the same as always. You stay. You always stay with me, just like I always stay with you.”

Your breath was caught in your throat. But… Even though you didn’t remember, you remembered the feeling of flying so high and swimming so far, now you were stuck at the bottom of the ocean, unable to lift from the ground as you drowned, and you longed to remember the feeling of not hurting, in the face of that, fear meant nothing.

“You can’t become my brother; you can’t become anything.”

“I can. I do.” He insisted. He kneeled next to you, reaching out to you as if to comfort you, as you flinched, he let his hand fall again, and part of you wished he hadn’t, longing for the warmth. “Hidden wounds don’t need to heal. And someday, I’ll replace even the blood gushing from those very wounds.”

Nothing about his words was a comfort, somehow it felt as if he was comforting himself with them. You wanted to explode in anger, continue an assault, use glass shards or words, but anger was flames and passion and action and – and you were just too tired.

“Do you hate me this much, to torture me like this?”

“Not hate.” At this, he breached the invisible barrier, letting his hand cup your cheek. “Every time you remember a little less, question a little less, and I hide a little less. Bit by bit. One day you’ll look at my true body, hear my true voice, and think nothing of it. All you’ll see is your brother. And you’ll be right, your brother, me, not him. Not some wasted grief. I’ll make you happy.”

“This doesn’t feel like happy.” All you could manage was a broken whisper. “Why?”

He was silent for a moment before speaking,

“I’ve fed on countless people. I exist only in the scope of broken dreams and wasted chances. Regrets is the proof of life, and so I remove those regrets, and with that, their very lives, and humanity slowly corrodes. And I – I cannot even have that. That one, painful semblance of life, and yet I continue to live.”

His voice was an odd mix of gleeful and resentful. You thought, somewhere in the back of your mind, that maybe he was happy to just bare himself at all, another part of you wished he didn’t, as he grew more distant from what you knew with each word, but you didn’t believe this speech really was for you, it was for himself.

“Reasons, what reasons did I have for living or dying. I was devoid of it all yet forced to play part of it all the same, in make-believe fantasies. And even so, it was never for me to comfort or be comforted, never for me to share a meal, never for me to hold a hand, never for me to hear the sound of someone playing the piano for me, never for me to fight and make up with someone, never for me.

In this world I lacked even ones to hate. And yet, all I could do was hate. Stuck in the dirt, all I could do was look up into heaven, cursing every leaf picked by the wind, every bird that could fly, everything that could move where I could not. Love where I could not. I was in hell but forced to act out heaven.

Every time it’d be a new face, a new regret, a new deception. Never me. Always something there isn’t there. But you… You saw, you knew – for a moment, you knew. And yet, you stayed. You didn’t fight, didn’t run. You closed your eyes to it, and clung to my delusions, clung to me.”

“And yet, here you are, pretending to be my brother.” At this, the corners of his lips quirked down, his figure looming as it seemed to grow, crooked and spiny. You thought maybe this was just a little closer to his true form.

“One day, you’ll forget why you clung to me. And then you’ll cling to me all over again. I know it, you are my one thing, my one person, the one thing for me. You infuriate me, you bring me joy, regrets, hopes, all of it – I can obtain it with you, through you, if I just hold on long enough.

Even if my body decays under the weight of hunger, I’ll stay for you without fail.”

”But I want you to leave.” The words sounded fake and hollow, even in your ears.

At this, he laughed. “Leave? And then what, you’ll be left in this empty apartment? Staring at pictures, rewatching old home movies? You don’t really want that.”

“Shut up, you don’t know what I want. You don’t-“ your words were like sand in your throat, forcing it to close until nothing could come out but broken sobs. He took the silence as cue to move closer, wrapping his arms around you – you hated the comfort of this stranger but felt unable to push away its familiarity, clinging desperately unto it.

“I can leave. Simply say the words and you’ll be rid of me.” He said with such ease because he knew you couldn’t do it. In the end, the only thing crueler than this torture was its absence.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #minors dni #tw monsterfucking #platonic yandere #not proofread #bad writing

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