#this is merely a observation i made that i found quite interesting

[picnokinesis]

Thoughts on Different Types of Representation in Doctor Who (and how fandom responds to it)

So I watched Rogue last night and - okay first, oh my days, absolutely ADORED it, this is definitely my favourite episode of this season, it was just so much FUN and it hooked me right from the start. And then the queerness! I was actually thinking to myself whilst watching it how wonderful it was because it felt like a queer story in a way that wasn't like, showboating about how progressive it was? [editorial aside: this is not comparing it to anything in particular, just a general observation]. The characters were just queer, within this wild and wonderful sci-fi story, but also their queerness wasn't the Only Character Trait they had and their story didn't resolve around their queerness, but their queerness was crucial to the plot in a way that was just lovely to see - and as a writer myself, it's personally the way I love to see our stories being told.

But then I made the mistake of going into the tag - always a foolish thing to do, because for some reason everyone loves to praise this era by criticising the previous era (as if it hasn't been criticised enough...like we know most of y'all hate Chris Chibnall for committing no worse crimes than Moffat and RTD before him...we know). And I found a couple of folks talking about how this episode alone did more for queer representation than the entirety of thirteen's era, whiiiiich at first really Peeved Me Off - like didn't these people understand how important Yaz's arc (especially Eve of the Daleks) was to a LOT of people? But then I was like 'well actually this is interesting', right? Because I think there's two very different kinds of representation going on here - and they're both very important in different ways, but one tends to get lauded as brilliant rep and one always gets put down as not good enough, or even bad rep. And what's the main difference? Whether the characters have a gay kiss or not.

So I just thought I'd share some of my thoughts and feelings on this, and why I think both these kinds of rep are equally important! To be clear from the get-go though - this is definitely not me ragging on anyone who likes more about one than the other (in fact, I think everyone likes one more than the other). This is merely a personal essay about it and the frustrations that comes when people in general do lift one up over the other. I'm gonna put it under the cut though, because it might get a bit long!

So, back when Eve of the Daleks aired, I remember having a lot of conversations about the representation in that episode - in particular with a very good friend of mine, who is a lesbian. And we realised that when it came to rep, we both actually wanted pretty different things. I'm aroace and genderfluid, and so a lot of what I saw in how thirteen was written - especially in terms of her gender (or lack thereof), and also her apparent lack of attraction (at least, in how I read it) was just incredibly affirming to me. I've never EVER seen a character on screen that I could see myself in both in terms of sexuality and gender. Whereas my friend saw things quite differently - thirteen was a lesbian, and they wanted to see that kiss between these two characters, because for them too, it was so rare to see that, and, in their words, they wanted to have their cake and eat it too. And we both realised that the reason that queer representation can feel so intense and important is, simply, because there isn't enough of it. We're all desperately reaching for the same small portion - and none of it is ever going to please everyone, or resonate with everyone. The stakes are too high.

So then, when there wasn't this dramatic romantic ending to Yaz's story, when there was no queer kiss, I was very sad for my friend, who didn't get that representation, but so painfully relieved for myself - because I got mine. So then it sucked a lot to see a lot of people getting really angry that this wasn't queer representation, that this was even homophobic - I even had someone tell me that aromantic representation in this regard was always going to be homophobic, because no-one would ever write it to be aro rep, and would instead only ever write it to avoid writing a gay kiss. And the thing that got me the most was that, REGARDLESS of whether they kissed or not, regardless of how you read either of the characters, there was one thing that was certain:

Yaz was queer. In text. Her emotional plotline centred around her realising that she was attracted to the Doctor (who was presenting as a woman - although, again, I don't think she really identified as such). The fact that she and the Doctor didn't get together by the end does not erase that fact.

They didn't kiss - but so what? Are queer people only queer when they're kissing someone of the same gender, or having gay sex? Are queer people not queer in their day to day lives, when they're not doing any of those things? Are queer people not queer when they're not dating? Are queer people not queer when they're trans, when they're ace, when they're aro, when their queerness doesn't resolve around attraction to the same gender?

And, to be honest, I think a lot of my feelings around this stem from the sort of exclusionist rhetoric that we saw a LOT of towards the ace/aro community back in 2012 that we still see now, that we're seeing towards the trans community now, that we're still seeing towards bi people, for pete's sake. It's this in-community infighting, pushing each other down to try and get up to the top, to keep all the "resources" for "the people who really need it", and it causes a serious amount of harm - but the truth is (and to bring this back to doctor who) that it all comes back to what me and my friend were discussing. We're all scared, all desperate to be seen - and when we are seen, it's the most incredible experience and the idea of losing that (or having someone else undermine it) feels inexpressibly awful. Having the thirteenth doctor...I suddenly realised this is what all the straight cis white dudes get all the time. She was like me, and that was indescribable. And then losing her - and having RTD not even be able to have a man wear her clothes because he was too worried about what the tabloids would say to be able to show a gnc person on tv...and then constantly described her as The Woman Doctor for the next entire episode - that hurt. A lot.

I've spoken to other friends who felt so seen in the character of Yaz - those people who realised they were queer later in life, those who fall in love with people and it doesn't end up going anywhere, those who don't get the whirlwind queer romances that people often call 'good representation'. Myself and many of my aspec friends have felt so seen in thirteen's almost entirely romance-less arc, and myself and my trans/genderqueer friends felt very seen in the way that thirteen's character would have been exactly the same if she'd been a man - the only difference was how the other characters around her interacted with her. Gender was something that happened to her. And when I watch episodes like Rogue, even though I don't relate to that representation, I just feel overwhelmed with joy because I know how important it will be to others that I care about. I think my sadness then comes from the fact that the way Thirteen and Yaz were written are just as important to me and many people that I know, but because they didn't kiss, it's not considered queer enough. Am I not queer enough, then? Are my friends not queer enough?

We need more episodes like Rogue, like The Parting of Ways, like Praxeus, like The Doctor Falls, because they are unquestionably and unapologetically queer, in a way that can't be avoided. We also need more episodes like Eve of the Daleks, like The Haunting of the Villa Diodati, like the rest of thirteen's era where the representation is an undercurrent throughout the whole story - but also undeniable, in a way that Yaz's story arc is, even if it doesn't end in a kiss, even if it doesn't end neatly and happily. Personally, I definitely would love to see more stories focused on aromanticism and on transness (especially ones that are written by trans people for trans people, rather than by cis people for cis people), but that's probably going to be down to people like me and other writers that I know actually getting into the script writing industry - and that depends on the people who are already there letting us in. One thing that I've always appreciated about Chibnall is that, after leaving Doctor Who, he began a programme for training up new showrunners with ITV, because: "showrunners are the gatekeepers and too many of the gatekeepers look like me."

Anyway, I probably have more thoughts that I've forgotten, but that's generally the gist of it. I think the more we fight over whether rep is 'good' or 'bad', relating to whether we see ourselves in it or not (rather than 'is this genuinely harmful or unhelpful', which I think is a more crucial question) the more the waters get muddied. We have different needs and wants, and no single episode is going to represent every facet of our community. But each episode, each story like this is a step in the right direction - and even rep that isn't perfect (I have thoughts about The Star Beast, for example) is still extremely positive and important, and definitely something that should be celebrated, even as we keep looking to the future for what we would like to see done differently, done better. And some day, I hope, there'll be so much queer rep, it'll be so normal, that those stakes won't feel so high anymore. It won't feel like everything hangs on how a certain show or storyline or episode is written. We'll all be seen. And that will be absolutely fantastic.

#taka rambles #doctor who #fifteenth doctor #doctor who spoilers #dw rogue #ncuti gatwa #the doctor #fifteen #lgbt+ #queer #so to be clear BOTH KINDS OF REP ARE IMPORTANT BOTH ARE GOOD #WE NEED BOTH #and some people will like one more than the other #the issue I have is when people act like one kind is lesser #anyway!! #really REALLY loved this episode #i also have a lot of thoughts about like...queer characters being mentioned in the background? #I think that's cool and important but it's frustrating when that's the only rep we get #half formed characters in the background who get mentioned once #i think fundamentally that the aro/ace/trans/genderqueer crowd (sweeping generalisation incoming) #need different things to the wlw/mlm crowd #which is not a bad thing until people start acting like one is more important than the other #they're both important! #and in fact there are people who fall into both categories so SKSKS

[tschulijulesjulie]

I do have two upcoming exams in two and three days respectively so naturally i spend all my time thinking about Radskier (as you do). Those circumstances let me to a thought which will not leave my mind, and i'd love to here more opinions on it. (sorry, long post incoming)

Before i start, a little disclaimer: I haven't read the books nor played the game, so what im about to say is only and purely based on and referring to the show.

So, I'm not sure how everyone else feels about Radovid, but it actually took me some time for him to grow on me. And this is partially because i had envisioned him differently, especially after seeing Hugh Skinner being cast.

So my first thought seeing him on screen was literally "what's this wet cat looking man?"

Those didn’t quite fit, but i couldn't put a finger on what's my actual association was. So I ignored it. The man and the ship grew on me, and so I've spent quite some time watching fan-edits of Radskier on YT these past days (side note: i need MORE, there aren't enough out there!)

One of those videos feature The Calling from TAD's lates album ruin and when Madeleine sang about that fox, it hit me. THAT was my initial association!!!

I mean, just LOOK at him, he's so fox-coded?! the hair(-colour), his red coat, the FURR!!! And thats only the visual resemblance. I can't help but also notice parallels in his characterisation and with what personality traits foxes are usually associated.

all of those traits we have also already seen in - or can assume for - Radovid.

He's intelligent (and tries to hide it), as Jaskier so perfectly points out for us. He's sly, and deceptive. Cunning, and determined - and charming. We might also assume that he has at least some cruel tendencies from the way he's portrayed in the games...

But now, whats REALLY interesting is looking from this perspective at the Geralt/Radovid comparison, which Jaskier so cleverly opened with his hammer-spoon-metaphor.

Because more than Radovid, Geralt even is canonly referred to as "White Wolf" (which a friend of mine so cleverly pointed out might have been Jaskiers invention!)

This is not only because he is from the school of wolf witchers and has white-ish hair. He's tall, muscular, grumpy looking, fast, a hunter and so on.

But he's also characterised that way!

He might be the lone wolf, but he cares for nothing more than his pack and will protect them at all cost.

Both animals are canines, but theyre characterised as differently as possible. Both are predators but but their way of hunting couldn't be more different.

Now, coming back to the witcher and those two characters, it's easy to assume this character design of Radovid wasn't a coincidence.

In a way they're parallels when it comes to Jaskier, both fighting for his heart loyalty.

Geralt is a hammer, a wolf, secure in his ways, stubborn, but not always right.

Radovid is a spoon, a knife, a fox, with tricks up his sleeve and a mind like a maze.

#this isn't me trying to bash Radovid btw #he's an amazing character and i cannot wait to discover more of his depths #AND him and Jaskier are so an interesting ship?!?! #the tension #the looming doom!! #delicious! #this is merely a observation i made that i found quite interesting #and wanted to share #radovid #radskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher s03

[throwaway-yandere]

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered. 

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline— 

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty. 

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

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[bosbas]

Chapter 9: I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, colin being incredibly down bad it's insane, Penelope DOES NOT have feelings for colin in this, the bridgertons being tapped in as fuck

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: this one wrote itself basically. so enjoy! happy weekend and a big smooch

June 6, 1816 – It seems that one Mr. Nigel Berbrooke has returned after an extended unexplained absence. He was spotted at the gentleman's club last night, though only for a very short time. This author heard that Mr. Berbrooke was asked to leave only an hour into his appearance due to a particularly aggressive threat he made toward Simon Basset. It’s safe to say that he has been uninvited from the Duke’s ball this evening, and perhaps from the rest of the social season’s events as well, depending on how lenient the Duke and Duchess of Hastings decide to be. 

However, information regarding his whereabouts for the past month is scarce, and this author lacks any reputable sources about what the man has been up to while away from London. But rest assured, dear readers, that any information I receive will be relayed through this very column.

Colin looked nervously at his reflection for what seemed like the hundredth time, adjusting his cravat ever so slightly. He sighed in frustration, accepting the fact that his appearance wouldn’t look quite right no matter what he did. 

Tonight was Daphne’s ball, and he knew for a fact that you would be in attendance. As much as he was trying to convince himself that this ball was no different, he knew it wasn’t going to be the same. Not after his talk with Anthony. There were some concerningly similar aspects between Kate and Anthony and his friendship– could he even call it a friendship? –with you, and Colin was not too hard-headed to be able to admit that. 

But he didn’t want to scare you off. As much as he liked you, he knew you were skittish after everything that happened with Lord Barlow. Besides, Colin didn’t even know if you liked him, too, or if you considered all of this as just an attempt to make you look desirable to other candidates. 

Frankly, Colin wasn’t even sure he could convince you to ever marry him. Maybe just being friends, or whatever it was the two of you had now, would suffice. Truthfully, he would take anything. 

Tonight, he just wanted a dance. And perhaps a chat, too. 

Based on the past few times Colin had spoken with you, he had concluded that you might be his favorite person in the ton to talk to. The mere thought of speaking with you tonight stirred excitement in his stomach. Every time you engaged in conversation, he found himself utterly captivated, forgetting everything else around him. What's more, you seemed genuinely interested in his what he had to say, a rarity among the ton. For the first time, he felt truly understood, and he hoped desperately that you reciprocated his sentiment. 

“You look fine,” assured Eloise. “Now can we please go? We’ll never hear the end of it from Daphne if we’re late!” 

Colin grumbled in annoyance but begrudgingly made his way to the carriage. In truth, he'd do just about anything to be near you. Even if he didn’t immediately dance with you– knowing full well you would be flocked by hordes of gentlemen wanting your hand in marriage– he still liked to simply… observe you. How your eyes crinkled shut when you laughed, the way you nervously bit your lip when someone you didn’t particularly like asked you to dance, the way you fiddled with your gloves when you were itching to get out of a conversation.

Bloody hell, Colin thought, maybe he did have feelings for you. Well, not love, that would be absurd. But certainly something more than the petty rivalry that had consumed your interactions for weeks on end. It was a sobering realization, especially after relentlessly antagonizing you for the better part of seven weeks.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about you that Colin barely noticed once the carriage had arrived at Daphne and Simon’s residence.

“Colin, darling, is anything the matter?” his mother inquired, tapping him on the arm and gently leading him toward his sister’s home.

“No, no, sorry. Everything’s alright, just got a bit distracted there,” he smiled back. 

Christ, he had to get a grip. You’d be put off immediately if you saw how he was acting now. He smoothed his coat down as he entered the ballroom, eyes immediately searching for you in the crowd.

He quickly spotted you speaking to a man he’d never seen before with Isabelle and Carlos by your side. Damn, thought. He’d have to wait to ask you to dance. 

But it was no bother. In the meantime, he attended to his duties as the most beloved Bridgerton. He sought out his sister and Simon to thank them for hosting the ball, of course, and danced with Penelope Featherington. 

Yet his focus stayed on you. He found himself glancing over to where you were every few minutes, just needing reassurance that you were still there. And also because he quite liked looking at you in general.  

Colin shook his head, bringing his attention back to Penelope. He had to remind himself to pull himself together. Even though Colin had spoken to Anthony, you had no reason to believe anything was different between you two. And it wasn’t. Everything was the same. It was only Colin who had changed. Who wanted something different, something more. 

“What’s on your mind?” asked Penelope after she noticed Colin’s drifting attention.

“Ah, nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Does Lady Montclair look particularly… subdued tonight, do you think?”

“Y/N?” Penelope clarified, looking over at where you were standing next to Louis. 

“Oh heavens, don’t look now!” Colin whispered, panicked. “She’ll see us both looking and know we were talking about her.”

Penelope laughed in disbelief. “Could it be? That my dear friend Colin Bridgerton is finally falling for someone? Have you truly found roots in England? Is that why you’ve stayed for so long this season?”

Colin could only smile bashfully. She had never seen him quite like this. And though it was unusual, it was fairly endearing to see him so flustered over a girl.

“Well, go talk to her, then. What are you doing dancing with me?”

“Penelope, I dance with you at every ball. I can go speak with her after. And don’t tell anyone! I’m not even sure if she likes me.”

“Very well then,” relented Penelope, but Colin did not miss the knowing smile she sent him.

After the dance concluded, Colin chatted with his brothers for a few minutes before making his way over to you and Louis, wanting to avoid seeming overly eager. But once he started walking toward you, your head shot up, as if you could tell that he was getting nearer. 

Your eyes met for a split second, but you immediately turned your head away, choosing instead to look at your gloved hands, which were fidgeting nervously. Colin frowned in confusion at your reaction, but continued walking, thinking that perhaps you had seen someone else behind him. 

As he reached your side, he saw you chewing anxiously on your lip and his frown deepened. But he pushed through. This was what he wanted, after all. You were what he wanted. 

“Lady Montclair,” he bowed. “Would you care for a dance tonight?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his lips as he reached for the dance card on your wrist.

But you pulled your hand away abruptly, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” was your curt response. 

Colin’s confusion morphed into frustration. What was the matter with you?

“That’s alright, I understand if you want to save space on your dance card for more…serious suitors,” he cringed as he heard himself speak. But at the end of the day, he was well aware that you were looking for a titled gentleman to be your husband. “We could take a turn about the ballroom and chat for a bit,” he offered, looking at you hopefully once again.

You finally met his eyes, and he could tell you were searching for something as you looked at him, a pained look on your face.

“No, thank you,” you repeated firmly, an edge to your voice. 

Colin rolled his eyes. This was so typical of you. You let him in for about three seconds and then went back to keeping him at arm’s length for whatever unknown reason.

“Are we really back to doing this?” asked Colin, exasperated. “I thought we were friends, at the very least.”

Your spine was suddenly rigid, and a fury ignited in your eyes. “We were never friends, Mr. Bridgerton,” you ground out. “You were simply doing Eloise a favor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone else I must dance with.”

Your voice was cold and uncaring, and Colin was slapped with a reminder of how things used to be as you sidestepped him to go toward the other side of the ballroom. 

Three steps into your journey, it was clear that there wasn’t actually anyone waiting to dance with you, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you were so desperate to get away. Even at the peak of your hatred toward him, you were always open to verbally sparring. 

Colin turned around to Louis, shooting him a questioning look. But your brother could only shrug. Who knew what went on in the depths of your brain? Louis had noticed you had been slightly on edge ever since you returned from Hyde Park with your sisters yesterday afternoon, but he wasn’t expecting you to be this hostile, especially after getting along so well with Colin.

Feeling his desire to speak with you outweigh his pride, Colin turned back and grabbed your hand, turning you to face him. “If what you want is to go back to arguing, I’m happy to do that,” he said, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of going back to how things were.

He sounded positively pathetic. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping this fragile dynamic alive, keeping you near him. If Anthony and Kate could do it, couldn’t the two of you?

You seemed on the brink of tears, but your voice held an unspeakable fury. “What I want is for you to leave. Me. Alone,” you emphasized each word with a pointed jab at his chest. “Please,” you whispered, your voice faltering. “I do not wish to dance with you, or to chat with you, or even to be near you at all. Good night.”

With that, you pivoted away, heading towards the refreshment table, tears welling in your eyes. And Colin was left standing there, hand lingering over the spot on his chest you had prodded.

He felt a familiar anger rising through him. It didn’t matter that you were the only person in the world who understood him. It didn’t matter that you were completely beautiful and incredibly smart, either. And it certainly didn’t matter that he’d fallen for you. Because you still hated him. And he was a fool to ever think things could be different.

Colin was rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you smile and greet some gentleman or other. He flinched as he saw the man kiss the back of your hand, and watched, seething, as he led you to the dance floor. 

Deciding he needed something stronger than lemonade, Colin turned around and grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in one go. He couldn’t believe you didn’t think he was your friend. What the hell else could you call it?

He spotted Eloise and Penelope chatting close by and stomped over to them. He was sure he looked like Gregory after a fight with Hyacinth, pouting with his arms crossed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“I thought you were going to talk to Y/N,” said Penelope, confused to see him back so soon. 

Colin shot her a murderous look. “She wants nothing to do with me, apparently. She said the only reason I talked to her was out of a favor to Eloise.”

Eloise coughed awkwardly. “Well, didn’t you?”

“No!” shot back Colin defensively. “Not entirely, at least. I don’t know. I need to leave.” 

You were still dancing with the unnamed man, and Colin was very much still seething as he watched the pair of you twirl around and smile at one another. 

Usually, it was frustrating to watch you dance with other people because you were never like that with him. But this well and truly hurt. It hurt to see you like this when he knew, now for a fact, that he could never have that with you again. 

“I need to leave,” he repeated. He couldn’t bear to watch you do this all night.

Snatching another glass of champagne and downing that one, too, he bid his goodbyes to Penelope and Eloise and made his way across the ballroom to the exit.

“Are you leaving already, darling? You’ve barely been here an hour,” Colin heard next to him as a hand reached out for his elbow. 

Turning around, he faced his mother, who looked like she was in the middle of a conversation with Anthony and Benedict. 

Colin nodded. “I’m sorry, mother. I just can’t. I can’t stay,” he responded, voice breaking as he glanced back toward you again. 

Seeing you lean to whisper something in your suitor’s ear, he slumped forward, practically feeling physical pain at the sight. 

“I must go,” Colin said firmly, giving his mother a quick squeeze and rushing to the door. 

Violet nodded, bewildered, and followed where Colin’s gaze had been. Finding you dancing with Lord Norcliffe, Violet sent a knowing look to Benedict and Anthony. 

“I suppose Hyacinth was right,” she said sympathetically.

“And don’t you dare tell her! It’ll get to her head,” responded Benedict. 

---

“The Bridgertons will be in attendance tonight,” your mother informed you carefully as you sat in the carriage on the way to yet another ball. 

“And by the Bridgertons you mean…”

“She means Colin, yes,” answered Jacques, earning a stifled laugh from his wife, Chiara. 

Ever since they’d been back and learned of your intense hatred for Colin, Jacques had not been able to stop making a mockery of it. Usually, you were quite agreeable, and it was rare that you found yourself at odds with someone who wasn’t your sibling, so this seemingly unprompted hatred was quite amusing to your brother. 

You groaned and glared at him. “No one asked you to come tonight, you know. In fact, no one asked you to come to England at all! You could have stayed in Tuscany, and I would have been much happier.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to tease you about this,” answered Jacques, completely unbothered by your biting tone. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled in response, only slightly comforted by Chiara’s apologetic smile as she softly scolded her husband.

It had been four days since your run-in with Nigel, and three since you saw Colin at Daphne’s ball, and the thought of seeing him again made you feel sick. It was already bad enough that he was disgusting and had no respect for you, but it was made infinitely worse by the fact that you had let yourself grow to care for him. In a friendly way, of course. You could never have married him, anyway. But it was still embarrassing that you fell into his charming trap and thought that you could become something more than a conquest for him.

“Be nice,” your mother whispered in warning as you approached the Bridgertons. 

You shrugged her off, not needing a reminder. You had been brought up to be the perfect lady. You weren’t about to forget yourself now. You refused to give Colin that power. 

You greeted the family warmly until you got to Colin. “Mr. Bridgerton,” you said, giving him a curt nod.

Not waiting for a response, you moved to stand away from him as you looked out at the crowd. Perhaps you would find a gentleman who was actually enjoyable to talk to, though your chances seemed slim. 

Colin shifted uncomfortably on his feet, watching you intently. It seemed that your behavior at Daphne’s ball hadn’t been a fluke, after all. He ground his teeth in annoyance, growing increasingly irritated by the fact that you were just standing there.

Why weren’t you doing anything? It was infuriating. Perhaps it would have been less infuriating if it were anyone else, but it seemed like anything you did was particularly vexing to him.

Making his way over to you, he stopped beside you. Wanting to slip back into the comfort of your tumultuous dynamic, Colin took a shot at your attire. “I see the modiste-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice shaking, barely above a whisper, and your gaze locked ahead of you. 

Colin was taken aback. You had never, in all the time that he had known you, backed down from an argument. It seemed that you just… didn’t want him around at all. You hated him enough that you didn’t want to be near him. And in any way that mattered, it was worse than when you were antagonizing him.

“I’m sorry,” Colin said desperately. “I didn’t mean- Look, can we please talk? Just quickly, I just want-”

But you didn’t even let him finish. “There’s nothing to say.”

Colin scoffed, a futile attempt to hide how hurt he was really feeling. “What do you mean there isn’t anything to say? I have things to say, at least. Just talk to me.”

You finally turned to face him, feeling your stomach drop as you looked at his desperate eyes searching yours for an answer. 

“Let me rephrase. I do not wish to speak with you, in any capacity, now or any time in the future. I do not care to hear what you have to say, Mr. Bridgerton, and I would appreciate it if you could respect that, though I know that’s not usually in your nature.”

Colin could only sputter, staring at you in disbelief as you walked away. He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as you reached a man he didn’t know, but whom you’d danced with at Daphne’s Ball. 

He had to have done something wrong. Colin hadn’t the slightest clue what, but you obviously had something against him, and it clearly wasn’t just you being silly. 

He swore under his breath. You were impossible. Not even Eloise knew why you hated him! How on earth was he supposed to know how to fix this when you refused to speak with him? It was almost easier when all you did was hurl insults at him and step on his feet as he poured lemonade down your dress.

Over on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Colin, mentally scolding yourself every time you did. This was not how you were supposed to be acting toward the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you.

The only reason you were dancing with Lord Norcliffe now was because he had not arrived in London until after your whole debacle with Lord Barlow. You supposed he could have heard what happened from someone else, but he was safer than the rest of the men of the ton, you thought grimly. It would’ve helped if he was interesting to talk to, or even nice to look at, but you supposed you couldn’t be very selective.

Curtsying and thanking Lord Norcliffe for the dance, you made a beeline toward Carlos and Philippe across the room. 

“You look like you don’t want to be here,” commented your brother, amused. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Astute observation, Philippe.”

Carlos laughed and gave you a comforting pat on the head. “But what happened to your season in England? I thought you were excited to be here?”

“My mother and father were certainly excited,” you mused, taking Philippe’s lemonade and drinking from it. 

Seeing their confused looks, you briefly explained your encounter with Nigel Berbrooke, and they suddenly became very concerned. 

“Ce connard! Il est où? Je vai le tuer,” growled Philippe under his breath, not wanting the rest of the ton to hear his threat (That asshole! Where is he? I’m going to kill him).

“Philippe, it’s alright,” you assured him, glancing over at Carlos and seeing that he, too, had understood your brother’s words despite not speaking French. “I believe Simon Basset took care of him at White’s a few days ago.”

“That’s just as well, or I’d have done it myself,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You can just come to Spain next year, cariño,” Carlos said warmly.

You smiled up at your brother-in-law, silently thanking him for the offer even though you knew your parents would never allow it. 

Colin watched enviously as you had a conversation with your older brother and your older sister’s husband. He wished he could talk to you again. Even if nothing got resolved between you, he liked to hear your voice. He loved how stubborn you were and how frustrated you got when you forgot the English word for something. He just missed you, he supposed. 

Which is why, as Colin watched yet another man approach you and write their name on your dance card, he decided he couldn’t do this anymore. The watching, the waiting, the wanting. He couldn’t do any of it anymore. 

“I need to leave,” he said firmly.

Daphne, who had been standing beside him, turned to face him, startled. “Leave where?”

“India, Egypt, Morocco, back to Greece. I don’t care. I just need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?” asked Daphne, still confused. 

“You know why,” Colin responded flatly, giving her an unimpressed look. 

Daphne instinctively turned to look at you, laughing as the man you were dancing with whispered something to you. She turned to look back at her brother with a disappointed look.

“I can’t imagine leaving would be the best option.” 

“Why not?” Colin shot back. “What good can my presence possibly do?”

Daphne put a hand on her brother’s elbow, giving him a sympathetic look. However, her voice was firm. “You always leave when it gets hard, you know? You’re always the first out the door and onto a different continent. Why are you so scared of staying?”

Colin was stunned. He didn’t know his motives were that obvious. But he supposed it made sense for Daphne to know since she knew him better than most people.  

“I’m not scared of staying,” Colin insisted defensively. “I just think it’ll be better for everyone if I go.”

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. “And do what? What could you possibly be doing that is so important that you would abandon the woman you love?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Colin argued, his voice growing strained as he felt his chest getting tighter. “None of it matters. She doesn’t love me back. I could be down the street or in Brazil and she wouldn’t even notice. She clearly hates me and wants nothing to do with me, so why should I stay?”

Daphne crossed her arms, looking more than a little disappointed. “Well, I won’t be the one to stop you if you decide to go. But really think about whether you want to be the person who leaves time and again. Things could change. It's only been a few days since she's been like this.”

She had a point, but Colin was too upset to admit it. Daphne was right. He couldn’t just leave now. If anything, it would hurt him more than being near you with you not speaking to him. It was the strangest feeling, knowing you loved someone but feeling powerless to do anything about it. 

Colin knew he couldn’t continue like this. Perhaps he couldn’t leave, but he could certainly stay as far away as possible. 

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[missviviii]

HI!! I was thinking maybe a mizu x reader where the reader is kinda in the same boat as mizu where she has heterochromia where one eye is a bright green.

So one day whenever they're in a village or smth Ringo points out that she has the exact same type of glasses as mizu just pure black and so mizu gets kinda suspicious 🤨

and so they sorta stalk her to a point she notices them and confronts them, and from there I think could be determined by you!

(ik this is really specific and long so plz don't be afraid to just scrap it but I just thought it was an interesting idea!)

a/n: ooooh!! alright alright 🫶

.

“Your eyes..”

warning(s): swearing

summary: this samurai and his very..interesting companion seemed to be interested in you, stalking you to the point you got tired of it and confronted it. you didn’t expect to find an individual with similar problems to yourself.

——————————————————————————

You were a mere wanderer—or perhaps just a traveling archer who seeks revenge for those who had thrown you into a ditch, or perhaps your parent who had attempted to kill you as a child because you were a ‘monster’. That was the idea you had grown up with. One bright green eye and the other a different color. That’s why you wear the pure black glasses, to hide away your eyes.

One day, you were crossing through a village. You stood near a stand, buying some food while you kept your head down low. A simple cloak was draped over your shoulder and a pure black glasses hiding your eyes. Your bow hung around your shoulder while the bag of arrows you carried around was on your back. You thanked the food stall owner and dropped some money into his hand before quickly leaving. You didn’t got unnoticed by a certain samurai though, one with orange tinged glasses such as yourself and a very giddy companion.

“Master, look at them! Do you think they are like you?” Ringo pointed out as the two walked into the village. Mizu looked in the direction that he was pointing at, and she found you rather..suspicious. Pure black glasses? Hiding your eyes? An archer too. Mizu squinted her eyes, watching your figure trail off to the distance.

Mizu put her finger up to silence Ringo before she signaled for him to follow her. She stayed just far enough from you, stalking you from behind and observing your actions. As you were looking at a few little charms at a small stand, you noticed a stranger just lingering around you. You tilted your head to the side, wondering who this mysterious figure was and why they seemed to be following you for quite awhile now.

Perhaps it’s just a coincidence.. You told yourself as you began to move, walking away and keeping your head down low. But every time you think you’ve lost them, they keep reappearing near you. That samurai and his companion, what did they want?

Having enough of this little stalking thing, you ducked into an empty street then jumped up onto a wall, and made a leap onto the rooftop of some building. Just as you expected, Mizu and Ringo followed you.

“Huh, where could they have gone?” Mizu wondered to herself as she walked further into the empty street, which had long been abandoned by the locals of the village. Ringo began to hum, following after Mizu while she attempted to look around for you. You stared at the two from the top of the building, frowning.

Were these people sent to..kill you? It wouldn’t be the first time, but what the fuck did you do now?

You lifted up your bow, carefully aiming your arrow at the one with the orange-tinted glasses. Inhale You closed one eye and steadied your heart. Exhale You pulled the arrow back and carefully aimed for the person’s vital point.

Then you released it, allowing the arrow to soar down at the person with perfect accuracy and precision. Yet somehow the person detected it. And dodged it by an inch, allowing it to hit the wall behind them instead. Mizu draws her blade, looking up at the figure on the roof with the bow pointing right at her.

“You! What are you doing? Following me? Did someone send you?!” You yelled as she took a step back. You jumped down from the roof and landed on the ground, still pointing at the two with your arrow in a threatening manner.

“No, no, no! You’ve got it all wrong! You had the same glasses as my master and we thought you were a teeny bit inter—“ Ringo immediately shut his mouth when the arrow was pointed at him. Mizu groans, stepping in front of him and pointing her blade at you.

“Lower your bow. We have no intentions of killing you,” Mizu said calmly as she put her blade away then raised both her hands up, tilting her head to the side for you to do the same. “Curiosity, I suppose. I..haven’t seen someone like me before.”

What?

You lowered your bow and pulled your glasses over your head, revealing your different colored eyes. “You fucking decided to stalk me just so you could see why I’m wearing black glasses?” Huh, that was one of the most interesting things you’ve ever heard. Usually people stalked you just to catch a glimpse of this ‘monster’ wandering around and perhaps turn you in for some hefty reward.

Mizu looked in awe, lowering her hands slowly and staring at your eyes with such intent. You were..beautiful. You seemed so elegant and relaxed, and poised. You came from the same background as her, stuck in the same boat with the same treatment from everyone around you.

“Woah! Your eyes are so cool! What a pretty shade of greeen!!” Ringo loudly exclaimed as he looked at you. Mizu looked away, hiding her face away with her palm while she cleared her throat. “Oh yeah, what’s your name? My name is Ringo! You are just like my master, no? Except you have a bow! Which is reallly cool and—“

Mizu shut him up with a look before she looked back at you. You put on hand on your hip, looking at the two suspiciously. They seemed..nice, but are they? That guy seemed to be rather chatty and energetic, but the samurai was closed off it seems? Clad in a large hat, dark blue cloak, and a scarf around her neck. Mysterious.

“Mizu, my name is Mizu,” she quietly spoke as she took off her glasses, revealing her true eye color. You hummed, taking a step closer and leaning in reaaaal close to look at her eyes. They were pretty, clear as the pristine, cool water and just like the sky. You suddenly smiled, tilting your head to the side while you straightened out your posture.

“Your eyes are pretty, you know that? Clear as the sky and blue like sapphires,” you say casually, catching her off guard for a moment. You stuck out your hand for a handshake, patiently waiting for her to take it. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

“Huh..I suppose we could make it work. Your eyes are nice too.”

——————————————————————————

a/n: hxjsnskzbsjw not me finishing this when my eyes are about to give up on me <3

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #i wanna write #send me asks #writing #ask answered #ask and answer #sorry it took so long #writing fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing for fun #x reader #asks open #pls be patient with me

[fawnpires]

hihii idk if ur requests are open but I'd like 2 kindly question for a konig x hyperfem! reader?? just konig falling in love with cutesy fm reader -🎀

୨୧ — anon, you’ve just blessed me with creating the concept of college!könig + hyperfem!reader together as a pair.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ -> COLLEGE AU, hyperfem + fem!reader, college!könig, undertones of pining, strangers to lovers, dumbification, size difference, oral sex [fem. receiving], mutual loss of virginity, messy sex, tons of manhandling, usage of pet names.

There's something about him that appeals to no other girl; he's around a year or two older in comparison to you – a kept-to-himself, socially bordered-off type of guy, barely knows how to communicate with others, barely knows how to converse with girls at that.

Hell, you don't even think you've seen him up until now, – excluding the classes you have with him – perched up in some corner of a borderline sketchy frat party, spread-legged on the couch and stiff as ever with a red solo cup cupped in his equally tense fist. Not his kind-of environment. Not the sort to be here. Makes you wonder where he'd much rather be right now.

You're smitten by him, as early as those feelings sound and fully embedded itself in your head. But who were you to deny them about a guy like him? – a lean, tall structure with just a sufficient amount of softness and toughened muscles around the edges, the kindest hues of blue gracing the formations of his eyes, and that nearly dreamy shade of pale-sandy that his shaggy hair and light stubble takes on.

And you don’t have the faintest clue how, but you would never expect to end up on that couch, the bared skin of your thigh beneath the pleats of your little mini-skirt rubbing up against the coarse fabric of his jeans. although it’s probably the alcohol, or the closely intimate atmosphere of the party, but either way, you had no doubts that his mere presence was to have you hooked onto him. (save for the innocent school-girl crush that you'd never owned up to until right about now.)

"König, right?" you asked, striking up benevolent conversation all while giving him a timid yet sweet smile plastered against the puffiness of your glossed-over lips. 

The moment you had first made your way over here and politely invited yourself directly next to him, it left him paralyzed, constricted in his own body to some extent. He couldn't deny your beauty as much as you found his own; a bit ditsy in all the right places appearance-wise, but possessing your own personal fashion sense which he found quite endearing. Little pale-pink ribbons he had always observed you wearing around campus and during classes somewhere in your hair, a variety of mini-skirts and dresses, or the occasional crop top and a track-suit. The cliché feminine kind. 

This particular exchange seems to pique his interests. He comes across as oddly indulged in you, eyes discreetly alight than usual.

“Mhm. I know you,” he nodded, a delicate gruff-ness lingering in his tone. “you’ve become a common sight to me, not to sound strange, but I'm sure we have most classes together.” 

“Not strange at all. Though, I barely see you around outside of classes.” 

“Yeah, I figured. just not the partying-type, it’s a mystery as to how I ended up here.” 

You snorted. “The frats are my best guess, complete assholes. Must’ve gotten to your head about letting loose, stupefying yourself… somethin’ like that.” 

He chuckles, ending it in a brief dragged-out sigh, sincere and throaty, his lips left agape. 

“You know, they may not be entirely wrong,” he ponders aloud, eyeing your doe gaze before aimlessly staring ahead. “there’s no harm in loosening up every now and then – but still, I fear the farthest I can go is alcohol.” 

“No girls?” you remark teasingly, tilting your head like a curious puppy. “That’s hard to believe.” 

The tease of a compliment causes him to roll his eyes in a light-hearted manner, his head sloping back down to stare down at you as he’s left with a raised eyebrow – along with a small, stupid-plastered grin smudged across his semi-thinned lips. Focused. strange, charming, loser of a man he was. It was probably just the alcohol really enhancing on his actions and speech, but who was he to not take advantage of such abilities? 

In some subconscious portion between his assumed temporary self-confidence and original, reserved and sweetheart-of-a-man self; an arm reached around the expanse of your back, keeping you close to him in a fragile way of handling you. His hand had itself in your hair, lightly toying with the satin material of your ribbons in the most tender way possible. 

There’s evident potential amidst the both of you – he knows it, and you know it. 

“Not so hard to believe when I'm talking to one right now.” he comments, blinking at you with a subtle smirk. “I've never told you or anyone this but… god, you’re a beauty.”

His flirtations were kept sweetened, innocent and a tad shy still. He's pleasant enough to converse with rather than fraternities. They weren’t much of empaths, just insufferable pains in the asses. Turning girls into their insignificant wet dreams. At least König beat the poorly-set expectations of getting together with a man like that as a last resort out of you, a chance at more ideal circumstances. 

You found yourself enamored with the guy the second you walked into this party – gaping over at him through the corners of your eyes across the room, across campus, – and now, without a train of moral thinking in your head,  you’ve got yourself in the same position like every other girl at a college party; settled in some handsome stranger’s lap, and making out with him your life depends on it. The last thing you remembered was the way his words in the form of a compliment came to you, before you had your legs rested on each side of his spread legs and large hands caging gently at your waist. 

It’s an ambiguity as to how quickly your body molds into his, ridges and curves sculpting as if they were familiar to one another, almost like they were predestined to attach like a hidden prophecy. His kisses are a far cry from how you initially expected them to be. (unfortunately rough, messy, just like how you’d seen your friends get it on with their boyfriends.) 

A heavy hand palms at the back of your head while the other is left at one side of your hip – the cushion of his lips meeting yours with a lenient, mutual desperation. You barely know anything about him, yet here you are caught in this trance of letting him take guidance in this, all you’re doing is pursuing in whatever he does. Your arms wrap around his neck, chest rising and falling against his as the intimacy of the kiss begins to naturally register in your brain. He had you in the palm of his hand, clearly. 

You’re so deeply in savoring the exhilarating taste of him that it was beyond your realizations he’s up and lifting you off of his lap, instead leading you on with only both of your arms clinging to one of his own – leaning onto him in a love-drunk predicament. You could’ve sworn he was looking down at you with the most adoration you’ve ever seen on a man’s face, nothing surprising when he was being the right amount of considerate to accompany you back to your own dorm – to lose his heart’s worth and devotion to. He had such a pure heart, virtuous even. That is, until you’re at the foot of your door, and you’re unlocking it without a realistic thought in mind – were you really this yearnful? – lacing fingers with a foreign individual, breaths lost in a slight stagger until you’re swinging the door wide open and stumbling inside along with him. 

It’s when your legs wrap around the dips of his hips, and your arms once more caging in framing his neck, you definitely knew that this was something beyond casual. He ghosts kisses against the course of your jaw, trailing down to your neck, a hungering fluctuation. Your head is leaned backwards, body held in the confines of his towering-self and the solid wall; truthfully, it was a reality of euphoric suffocation with his hand gently resting around your neck and the whole situation with him and the wall, fingers resting on the skin for some stability rather than the purpose of choking you out. 

In all of his honesty, he doesn’t know where he’s obtained this abrupt ability to turn such a pretty girl into a melted pile of mush in his hands, considering his substantial lack of experience. However, he couldn’t deny putting it to good use. 

With a share of his hoarse huffs and your choked-up intoxicated sighs, he rounds the corner of your living room area and nearly trips over the threshold of the bedroom bringing you into it. You project your gaze onto his face – and bizarrely, find that you are unable to stifle a smile at the sheer sight of him, girlish and one possessing the aspects of authentic love, a rosy color blooming across your facial features. He cups the softness of your ass beneath the stretched material over your skirt, chuckling beneath his breath at the show of flusteredness occupying your face. He pecks chastely at your forehead before laying you down in the center of your mattress, hunched over, affectionately trailing his lips across the stretch of your shoulders and collarbones. He's gentle, stroking at the outlines of your sides soothingly, getting your heart-rate spiking and the blood in your veins pulsating, reveling in a newer warmth. 

“You might just be the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he says to you in a hushed voice, palming at the dough-like flesh of your breasts through your top and bra before shedding them off of your chest. He stares dumb-founded at the caused nudity, his eyes downcast and a slight bob in his adam’s apple. “you must really like me a lot to let me do this to you, huh, prinzessin?” 

You bit the region of your lower lip, teeth sinking into the kiss-swollen rawness while you nodded your head, eyelashes fluttering up at him. “Like you so much, König. I…” you swallowed, brushing the back of your hand against the contours of his face. “I think you’re the sweetest guy in the world.” you finish breathily, eyes half-lidded in a sensual-ardent craze. 

He kisses your knuckles, and then the area beneath. “Yeah? I've got a bunch of feelings about you too.” König says, his hands now finding their way to the edges of your skirt and pulling the piece of fabric down to discard on the floor next to your bed.

“Really?” you respond with a ditsy little smile. 

A small smile creases his lips. “Of course I do. How do you think we’ve even managed to end up like this in the first place?” he says, “Feelings and a beautiful girl do have their tolls on a man.” 

And there is when those carved, rugged hands of his do the most predictable; fingertips over lace and hooked into the waistband, dragging down that last article of modesty down and giving him a full worth’s perspective of the girl he had longed after, and not so shamefully, fell in love with in a single night. Desperation is put at the forefront of his mind from this point and on – since the manner of which he plants his knees into the mattress and nestles himself in between the spread of your legs that now rested curled and caging around his hips was something truly explicit in nature. 

Calloused fingers slip between your thighs within a matter of a few seconds, the pads of his fingertips massaging from your clit and right to the center of your puffy folds, glossed over with copious amounts of your slick. Your benefit of bringing him right back to your dorm room, a man with an eagerness to pull an orgasm out of such an angel of a girl. 

König has that terminal objective in mind as he observes the way your lashes flutter over your lash-line, his index and middle finger extended  – pressing against your clit and moving with just enough pressure to draw a few gasps and softened mewls from your lips. You’re left writhing on the sheets, hips elevated off of the bed due to the sensual arch of your back, and panting out his name so pathetically your own voice was far from recognizable; like you would lose all genuine sanity if he wouldn’t just get straight to the point.

To your luck, he doesn’t hesitate – because he to is way too pent-up, and in some dire need of simulation – and disengages his fingers away from your pulsating cunt just to lock your legs in two muscular biceps, his head finding its own heaven right there in between your squeezing thighs wrapped around his head. Drills his tongue into your silken walls and gives you the blissful sensation of being stuffed full with just that. He’s only ever seen this in the casual porno here and there, sure, but the real thing was something distinctly new to him; made him feel like not a beginner, but more on the side of heavy experience on knowing how to coax a pretty cunt to open up for him. 

You feel his stubble graze over your sensitivity, and the curved ridge of his nose bumping right up against your clit additionally. A union near impossible for your cunt to not squeeze around his tongue that was so expertly getting you stupefied for him in all the right ways – it was overwhelming in some sense, but you would surely not be lying if it you said that König, withdrawn and mannered-craze, had definitely ruined you for any other man on sexual terms. 

“Doing good up there so far, engel?” he asks, a slight growl to his accent with the muffle of his mouth stuffed of you. 

“Yes! just… don’t stop, please,” you manage to whisper back breathily, fingers lacing and gently tugging through the now-unkempt bits of his hair. “feels so good.” 

Your mouth is left open, head slanted back, and your doe eyes now hooded-over as you gazed down at where his broad, large figure had resided. His tongue fills you up, plunging in back-and-forth motions until the messy combination of his spit and your arousal began to make a soaking mess right between your thighs, drooling down your skin and collecting in a small pool underneath you in a lewd sight. He’s got you quite literally trapped between this bordering exhilaration of his euphoric ministrations and his rooted physicality below you. 

He’s rather sloppy with how he’s eating you out, lips kissing at your folds in a near-disgusting-erotic implication of making out with them. You feel the warmth of his breath against you; the coarseness of his stubble simultaneously pressing there. He drags the muscle of his tongue over your clit repeatedly, his gaze fully focused on the overwhelming neediness that was slowly beginning to dissipate your natural consciousness. At this point, his cock was straining up through his boxers and the suffocating fabric of his jeans – albeit his belt being undone and his pants pulled down to only his hip-bones in a poor attempt of getting them off. 

On your end, you were submerged in the hands of his treatment. Your glistening, doe eyes glazed over with arousal and the small bits of wetness gracing the lengths of your lashes. Your lips are kiss-swollen and tinted a faint blush-red, lip gloss smeared at the corners and difficult to really make-out if it was really product or the residue of his own saliva from his sensual, hungry kisses. Your hands rest on top of his that were keeping your thighs parted – that is, until he fully registers your touch and instead keeps a gentle hold on both of your hands amidst the intimate scenario. Large fingers laced with your manicured ones, his thumbs drawing small circles into the forms of your knuckles poking out while his sweaty palms lovingly press up against yours. 

König’s going down on you like his life depends on it, some excessive lapping and kissing, over and over again. one of his hands release from yours, two of his fingers nudging their way into you beside his tongue – a stuttering in your breathing patterns to accompany the fucked-out expression of your pretty, ruined face sleeked with sweat. You’re fully convinced that was the peak of your euphoria, cunt squeezing so firmly around his tongue and fingers pumping without pause, hitting that sensitive spot of nerves. it was a requited sentiment – his rigid cock aching to be freed from their denim confines, your cunt dripping out of neediness and warmth – and you both knew it, though not verbally expressed, that you needed one another to really get down to being the pinnacles of each other’s deepest physical wants. perfectly-timed. 

It's not long before you succumb to his doings, hips lifting off the mattress a few inches and squirming against him, hand tightening to his as your mouth locks in a momentary position of being hung open, and nearly all the possible sounds of an orgasmic reverie pulling from your throat. König kisses against your folds, more delicately this time, then grazing his lips up to your pelvic bone and worshipping the skin there. Slow and sensual. A tender contact to contrast the aftershocks of your release you were still inevitably riding out at the moment. Your cunt flexes around his remaining digits one last time, before softening and releasing; he takes this as a sign, hesitantly pulling out with a coarse sigh. 

He sits on his heels, durable hands easily maneuvering your body to his chest and sitting you up against the nude sturdiness of himself. “You put on quite a show, don’t you?” he muses, kissing the side of your head with the smoothest of pecks. 

You arch your back into him, entire head mentally stimulated on all of him. “Where'd you learn how to do that?” you question, mildly-dumbfounded and wallowing in his sexual expertise, dexterity. 

“That's for me to know, and you to find out, meine liebe.” he teases to you, rubbing the tip of his nose against your scalding cheek. 

You huff out, rolling your eyes. Cheeky. “Then… enough chat and let me ‘find out’.” you bit your lower lip at him enticingly, sore cunt almost-instinctively rubbing up against the erected, center portion of his jeans and staining the fabric with the pearl-esque mess of your arousal. A whine, docile and lenient, comes from you at the grasp of understanding what you were doing. König’s aware, too. None of you were a cut above. An orchestration of deep groans and much more higher, feminine sounds of an equal intoxicating high. The denim deepens in its color, thanks to that pretty little thing at the core of your legs painting all over it. 

König’s a big man, and a strong one at that. (for a nerd like him, he’s awfully muscular. has he got a side hustle? it really makes you wonder.) So, what kind of a man would he be to deny giving you just one more fuck? A genuine one, one that could really make you fall head over heels for him and have your little heart beating for him days after this night. 

He can just see it in your dolly little eyes, lashes batting at him while you were sat, naked, grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat, waiting for him to just do something. Anything at all. Before he knows it, he’s almost immediately giving into you, hands ridding the rest of his clothes and fishing out his fat cock from the last remnants of material. 

His cock smacks against the lower region of his abdomen once released. Bulky and heavy. In this state of a longing, aphrodisiac-like crave, the veins adorning him are more prominent, the blunt head leaking of an abundant quantity of pre-cum and decorating his subtly-tanned skin. The sight has you flushing and sent straight to a mindset of dumbification, some place where you’re pliant and completely in love with all of him; his seraphic body of masculinity seemingly crafted by the gods themselves, the profuse amount of worship he held for you. It’s almost comical how fast it’s taken you to fall for him in such little time. 

There’s so little to do now except to take you in position, give you the satisfaction of an unconditional, non-negotiable fuck out of reverence. You’re given an eyeful of him once he turns you around, bending you over to linger above a disheveled bed – a safe haven made up of a messed, cum-stained mattress. He’s seductive, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be all vulnerable for him right now; fucked-over with the case of an ample heart, and an ache in your pussy – is this really the effect of a hunky-loser austrian had on you? No complaints. The guy’s sultry in his own way. 

He's as tall as always behind you, even on his knees. menacing, gentle bastard. His hands find a purchase on either sides of your bare hips, fingers molding into the flesh. A place carved out just for him. Sturdy hips attach to the fullness of your ass, sweat-on-sweat; has you whining beneath your breath like a sniveling dog, especially when the lips of your puffy cunt cushion the length of his cock as he slides in between yours folds  – collecting slick, an audible squelch from the mess reverberating through your heated ears. The flushed head taps against your swollen clit before gliding into you with precision. Your back automatically forces itself into a deeper arch to push back against him, arms encased to one of your pillows to which you muffled your incoherent pleasure-made sounds. 

Your once-stubborn pussy, now so well-trained to be compliant for him, took in his shallow thrusts. Not much, but what was there to expect? A rough fuck wasn’t your thing – and a majority of campus’s male population wouldn’t even put a girl’s vulnerability during intimacy in the forefronts of their minds – so you were thankful for him. 

“Christ, you’re huge.” you nearly sob out in a whimper, with the divergence of a dumbified, slack grin on your ruined lips. 

He grunts, “Takes a little to get used to, eh?” the smack of a kiss lands against the face of your right shoulder. “You doing okay? Could always eat you out again, y’know… doesn’t hurt to.” 

“Yeah – yeah. I’m fine,” a small gasp leaves you, unfamiliar with something so foreign filling your guts up at such a pace. “fuck what I feel, god, just fuck me.” 

He rubs the sides of your hips with his thumbs, stilling within you, and slightly hunching over in position – the chiseled and softened fat of his torso rubbing up against your sheen, curved back, his hands falling from their grace at your hips and instead settling between the crevices of your smaller-in-size fingers. They lace like ribbon through eyelets, fingertips pressing down intently at the tops of your palms, and his head plummeting to the curve of your shoulder to your neck where he conceals his face with ease. 

His thrusts are no longer those of a gentle, bonafide lover, but instead restored with something more starved – like he’ll die a poor man if he doesn’t modify your insides into the shape of him. 

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, engel.” lips pucker and latch onto your neck for gentle caresses, “You needed this, can see it in – Scheiß – those little eyes. “ 

“Mmph – yeah.” you croak out, throat hung out and dry. Sandpaper for a throat. 

“Smart girl. you love me, huh?” König forces you into a deeper arch, coercing that love right out. No oral communication needed. He collapses further ove you and takes the angle of your chin, tilting it in a fragile-hold from the pillow as he holds it up – right enough to meet his dilated, enveloped-of-eyelids gaze. so he takes advantage of this posture and kisses you and shares the taste of him, licking you, worshipping you, tongues overlapping one another right about to define the proximity; pistoning, widened hips and a malleable receiver. 

Then you do the sluttiest thing a girl like you has ever done – grind your hips back onto the canvas of his crotch, his single hand holding you tight against him, rubbing intermittently across your lower stomach when he shifts all his of his focus onto his calculated motions and the way your cunt drips onto him. Down the length of him all, and discarded below to the sheets. 

He's so explicitly hard he could feel it all around him, his muscles, his throbbing head, and you’re no better, squeezing him so tightly that he’s suffocated. The good type of suffocation, one that makes you feel like you’re all blissed out. It’s one whole mass of flesh and intimate rapture. He thrusts harder, squeezes harder, and you continue to grind back onto him – the cycle continues, dragging on and on, and you’re aware this is no longer some hook-up – it’s gotten way too intimate now to be classified as such. 

A string of higher-pitched yes, yes, yeses! are spoken like a prayer from you and your unable-to-be-shut mouth. And then, because he can’t really help himself anymore, he wraps his arms around your full torso and presses into you more, thrusting and thrusting to the point where he’s too psychologically stimulated on sex, fucking you, desperate, adoring, each motion enhanced with the softcore-aggressive, dragging, shoving, capture of this fragile body of yours. The pressure’s a give-and-take situation on you and him. 

You;re inclined to a drawn-out call of his name as he drives all mustered force right into you, nails clutching crescents to the surface of stained linen, and your cunt coating him in that same wetness that’s been drooling down your legs. 

König mutters a gruff fucking take it, prinzessin, before just one single plundering thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm so suddenly, so harshly, occurring out of you, a fervent gushing erupting. Man’s first one-on-one orgasm, and he’s just so managed to make you squirt. A madman, surely. Even he thinks it’s unreal – something straight out of his PC monitors, out of the porn websites he’s browsed when his hormones were on a high every other day; he’s a degenerate turned man-of-his-dreams. 

A soft cry is perceived from you as he grinds his hips once more, cock kissing sweetly up to your cervix, his pelvis rubbing into your pubic bone – and you mewl, orgasm dragging itself so needlessly that another surge of fluid spurts from you, painting his abdomen in an array of glistening transparence. He won’t stop, you think. 

That is, until he’s feeling all sensitive in his lower abdomen, sharp and tangible by a sensual inebriation. He pulls out – avoiding the next-few-days-consequence of knocking some poor girl up –  and cums across your folds, spewing lines; hot, scorchingly hot. “You’re something else,” he says, totally out of breath, exuding heat and sweating, rivulets tainting his skin of moisture. 

He’s an accomplished man now.

“So hard to believe you were a virgin before this.” you said, rolling onto your back, the side of your face smushed into a pillow, the quivering of your body signifying the aftermath of his relentlessness still existent. He’s laid down next to you on another pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling with an opened, heated mouth. 

“Porn’s pretty accessible, not that hard to pick up on some skills.” 

“Oh, you’re a perv,” you say, half-jokingly. “But what’s new? Can’t expect an innocent man anymore. Clean slate and all.” 

“It’s a fucked-up world, schatz. You’re just a little, eh… stupid, oblivious, when it comes to the male gender.” he shrugs. 

You smack him blithely on the bicep, a mock-irked expression to the ceiling. “You’re all sickos, that’s why,” you shoot back, “and I’m just a proper lady. I don’t indulge in such things.” 

“Proper lady my ass. You look the part, but anyone can see past those sweet ribbons and beady eyes of yours – minxy piece of work you are.” 

You pout. “You’re mean.” 

He turns his head to the side. “It’s all honesty,” he says, sitting up to the headboard and stretching out his aching shoulders. “And if you’re ever in the mood again, I’ve got my practice, and I can say – I’m not that bad at this whole ‘screwing’ thing.” 

Sighing, you rest your cheek on his slick thigh. “You make it sound like you’re just another campus-fuck offer,” you giggle sweetly, “What did I really do to you, König?”

"Nothing, nothing at all,” he responds, brushing your disheveled hair and making the poor attempts at adjusting your little girlish ribbons to their original state. “Other than having the most prettiest little thing at my disposal, nothing.”

© FAWNPIRES 2024 — AN EXPLICIT, MULTIFANDOM BLOG. copying, translating, or claiming any of my works is prohibited.

#.୨୧ fleur's writing. #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #konig x reader #könig smut #konig smut #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty smut #female reader

[tulipsforvin]

✦ A LOVE THAT MELTS ALL

✧ william james moriarty x fem!reader

✧ summary: he's insecure of his scar but he has you. short fluff.

IT WAS THE NIGHT AFTER HIS RETURN; exactly three years later. the lit candle was dim, barely illuminating the bedroom that you and william shared and overall casted a hue of dull orange throughout the room.

you're situated on your heels between his legs on the bed, palms flat against the matress beneath and in the slight gap between your body and his own. william's back, which was already resting against the headboard of the bed, pushes itself even further back against it when you push your face upwards to him.

you're close. too close. he swallows hard, and you watch the prominent adam's apple on his neck bob.

“..darling? is something the matter?” he looks down at you. his voice is soft, confused and uncertain all at the same time. you're staring too hard at him to merely brush it off as 'observing'. applying that word here would be too much of an understatement.

“may i ask what you're wearing the eyepatch for?” your head tilts by the slightest degree, curious.

right.

right. william lets out a breathy exhale.

he hadn't told you about that part yet. with all the emotions and feelings upon his return, he really hadn't found the time to tell you. and quite frankly—he really didn't want to tell you. but he does anyway.

“i.. obtained a scar during my fall.” he clears his throat. “from the westminster bridge.” he watches as your expression turns into one of sincere sympathy. he hadn't even realised he was nuzzling his cheek against your outstretched palm, holding his face.

until you say the words: “can i see it?”

william freezes. you can only watch as his face dissolves into one of panic, widened eyes and a dry throat that he tries to rid of by gulping thickly. “i.. i think it would be in our best interests if i don't show you, and that you don't see it either.”

“but why?”

“why..?” he repeats weakly. why, you ask? it is because you're going to find me hideous. it is because i have done all that i possibly can for as long as i have known you so that you may see me as my best self and that revealing this ugly, disgusting mark on my face now would ruin it all.

“i'm afraid cannot show it to you. it is not a pretty sight.” he scrunches his face slightly and turns his face away from you, as if unsettled by the very idea.

“you must think of me a fool if you think that i care about aesthetics over my lover, liam.” you tell him, sighing with the back of your fingers caressing his cheek. he flinches. “if it's made you what you are right now, then isn't that more beautiful than anything else? you don't have to be perfect to be beautiful, you know.”

“i...” but he cannot seem to refute. nor find any reason to. your words would have made him cry, had he not felt so uncomfortable. “(name)..”

you smile subtly. “but at the end of the day, it depends on you whether you want to show it to me. i won't force you, nor will i let anybody else force you either.” you make an effort to pull back but the blond suddenly pulls you back right in.

a yelp from you in surprise at the sudden tug from him and you're crashing against his chest. both of his hands wrap around your wrists gently. “no, no. you're right, i.. it would be better if i show you it now than procastinate any further. i most likely would not be able to gather the courage if i'm any later.”

his hands fall to his sides, allowing you to do as you please. allowing you to lift off his eyepatch. your eyes crease at the corners while your lips form into a smile. “yeah.” you say. “thank you for being brave.”

your fingers are cautious and gentle on him as one hand rests on his cheek while the other goes behind of his head to unlace the string holding it together.

his breath hitches. a pull from your finger at the string and the eyepatch flutters down onto his lap.

on his left eye is a healed scar. scar tissue, to be exact. the eye colour, which previously used to be a vibrant and a lovely shade of red seems to have lost it's colour as well. the silence lingers in the air. william's fidgeting now, but trying to make an effort not to show it. his face has, once again, dipped away from you. he's embarrassed, face tinged with a light pink. he's biting the inside of his cheek, anxious.

“liam..” you breathe out after a long while. “you're beautiful.” he shakes his head, unconvinced.

william turns to peek at you. “lying to me now would be cruel. i can understand if you find me disgusti—”

then why the long pause? he thinks to himself but does not say it. my love, are you grossed out by me?

but the truth was far, far from his thoughts.

you palms press against his chest as you push yourself up and in an instant, your lips are pressed softly, gently over his eyelid. he flinches sharply.

“(name)—?” he's surprised. baffled.

“i will say it to as many times as you need to hear it, william. you're beautiful. you're beautiful. you're beautiful. you're beautiful.” you pull back, smile at him, give his cheek a slight squeeze and watch as his face—no, his entire being almost melt into a puddle.

his hands, those warm hands and his slender fingers wrap around your waist, tread upwards by the slightest until they find place over your ribcage with the uttermost softness. and he pulls you in.

“i love you.” you mumble silently against him. he doesn't do much but press his lips against yours, gentle and warm against your own. eyes closed, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching.

your eyelids flutter open to a william, flushed and eyes shimmering, looking at you with the most happiest of grins—as if you plucked the stars from the night sky for him. “i love you too. most ardently.”

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x y/n #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader

[mysumeow]

warnings: afab genitalia, gn pronouns. lyney's a switch here.

drabble

a/n: i expanded from this idea i had yesterday about lyney deliberately hiding his cat ears and tail. i know theres a more reasonable explanation, maybe lynette and lyney are half siblings or someting idk. but for now, its free real estate. also, the pending drafts i have since may are side eyeing me.

To render the flirty and chatty magician Lyney speechless is a sight few people get to see.

And there he was, on his back, on the floor, with you straddling his hips, as your attempt at avoiding his fall was futile.

"I didn’t expect you to take me up on my offer," he was referring to, mere seconds ago, when you asked what flavor his chapstick was, and he playfully answered, 'why don’t you try it yourself’ as he licked his lips with a sultry look in his eyes. "My, aren’t you a brave one,"

However, you were more perplexed by something else. To be precise, the cat ears that sprouted from his head.

He noticed your prolonged stare at somewhere else other than his eyes, to which he inquired: "What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"I didn’t know you had cat ears," you observed and helped him stand up.

A shiver ran down his body when your fingers made contact with his sensitive ears. His face grew warmer the longer you stroked them.

He felt himself harden at your attention and, bashfully, tried to divert it somewhere else by changing the conversation.

"Why do you hide them?" you weren’t having any of that. "You look cute,"

"For the sake of the performance, of course. One cat person on stage is interesting enough, but having two of the same makes it less special. That’s how I see it, at least."

Even though you had a different opinion on his take, you didn’t budge on it.

"You appear to be oddly into this aspect of my physique. Had I known sooner, I would’ve shown them to—" he cut himself off before a whine escaped his mouth at the sensation of you stroking his tail with feather-like touches. "S-Stop that, ah—!" you blew air onto his ear, as you pressed your palm on the obvious stiffness concealed under his clothes.

Even though he did want you to go on, he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of being teased and played with. This was quite new to him.

"If we’re going to do something, we must hurry up, yes? I have a performance in about half an hour."

"I can work with that, seeing as having your cute tail and ears caressed enhances your arousal," you noted with the same teasing tone he usually used on you when the roles were reversed. You kissed his cheek and moved back up again to kiss his ear too. "Ooh, I wonder what would happen if I did this," you sang playfully, and your free hand rubbed the tip of his other ear.

Despite his efforts to cover his sounds and control his squirming, every now and then he would jolt whenever you found a weak spot.

"You sure know how to keep people’s eyes on you," you slipped a finger under the harness on his thigh and pulled it. The harness wasn’t skin-tight, so when you released the material, it didn’t deliver the snapping sound you were looking forward to.

You were having fun, and so was he. Regardless, the need to regain his control grew stronger, and he grabbed your wrist to lead you to sit on his lap.

"And with minimum effort, so do you. I hope you had fun riling me up," he said as he slid his hand under your clothes, gloved fingers coming into contact with your dripping arousal. "My cat-like attributes may place me in a vulnerable state, but I also know your weak spots,"

#genshin smut #lyney smut #/ᐠ - ˕ -マ .. smut

[particular-one]

oh, i was raised on little light.

synopsis. 5 times that blade listed every reason why he can never be with someone like you, and the 1 time you proved him wrong. pairing. blade x gn! reader cw. hurt/comfort, a lil angsty on blade's part with brief mentions of blade's insistence on dying, implicit spoilers about blade's lore in general author's note. i have been itching to write a 5+1 fic for the longest time now....i was listening to northern attitude and it reminded me of blade so bad. hello blade nation i know i understand why he’s so angst-ridden appealing to write for 🙁

when blade met you for the first time, everything in him knew you would be different from the rest of the group. you were the newest addition to the stellaron hunters, whom elio took a great fascination towards — why so, he never figured out, but this landed you in the same ranks as him, kafka and silverwolf.

you easily found a friend in both kafka and silverwolf; blade knew that much because he had watched as you indulged in kafka's innate interest in beauty despite the clear confusion in your eyes. he had seen how you would chat with silverwolf about the latest games that she's invested most of her time into.

but he would merely observe you; if, in any way, you had tried to interact with him, he would brush you off with a cold shoulder, never responding to your rather inquisitive words about him.

he didn't understand why you wanted to know so much about him, nor did he expect to be greeted with the same smile and greeting despite constantly keeping you at arm's length.

that was when he knew that you were too nice for your own good, but most of all, you were too nice to someone like him, who'd push you away even when every inch of his soul did not want to.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the second time was when you had accidentally found out about his despondency with immortality's curse and in turn, everything that blade had wanted to hide from you.

when you had approached him about it, blade immediately went on the defensive and angrily asked you to stay away from him. he didn't — couldn't bear to see the hurt in your eyes when he snapped at you, thus, the stellaron hunter turned his back on you and fled. which had exactly been the source of the never ending spiral of thoughts that was slowly consuming every fibre of his being.

he's done it now. he's blown any chance that he could form anything meaningful in this ruined life of his.

he had not noticed your presence in the common room, until you made a clanging noise that was the result of two porcelain cups making contact. blade was startled to see you here, especially when he had just uttered those spiteful words to you. he stood up to take his leave, when you called his name.

even the way you said his name had a gentle tenderness to it; he hated how melodious your voice had sounded, hated how he watched as you gingerly set down two porcelain tea cups filled with jasmine tea, one quite noticeably for him, hated how you took the seat in front of him and told him that you were sorry, and that if he ever needed someone to talk to, that you would always be there for him.

but most of all, he hated how his heart rose at your promise, and how much he clung to your words since that night. all the while fully knowing that he could never subject you to being intertwined with the likes of him.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the third time was much more of a painful wakeup call — quite literally. blade had always prided himself in diving straight first into battle without a single thought, desperate to die and get on with it. this mission was no different, but now you had been watching over him and ready to provide support if needed.

today's battle was much more vicious than his usual ones, but blade had always enjoyed the thrill of fighting. it had been the uncertainty of whether it would finally be his time that allured the stellaron hunter.

but… things had gone quite differently today. for the first time, blade was not seething in his obsession to die when he had seen you valiantly fight off the enemies that had threatened to overwhelm him. ha, as if they could.

he had not noticed that one was charging straight at him with his spear raised, and for a split second could quite literally see his long life flash before his eyes just as he narrowly avoided a fatal injury if it weren’t for the fact that you shouted for his name.

"stay still. i still need to bandage your side." your voice had inevitably brought him back to reality, just as you wiped off the last of his injuries with a warm towel. you had insisted on patching up his wounds yourself, and even when blade had told you that it would just magically heal by himself, he learned that day that it was rather hard to say no to you when you pleaded.

also, he could barely say no when he saw how you were radiating in concern and worry for him. not to mention how your eyes had gleamed like stars in the sky, but that was besides the point.

at the touch of your hand, blade suddenly winced at the contact. you immediately retracted your hand and mumbled an apology, but blade could see that your eyes was moving towards where he covered up the scars he's accumulated for fighting for over a century.

"are you wondering about my scars?" you seemed rather surprised at his question, but most likely due to the sudden indulgence to what you had been obviously looking at.

you slowly nodded. "do they still hurt?"

"not anymore." not any more than his painstaking wish to be free from the shackles of immortality.

you had started to set down the alcohol and bandages on the floor just as blade averted his gaze from you. the silence that proceeded was rather deafening, even for someone like blade who would rather sit in uncomfortable silence than deal with something intimate.

which was ... quite the contradiction to what he had previously allowed you to do, but you had slowly become the exception to many things in his life.

"there, all done. don't be too reckless next time, okay?" you smiled at your handiwork, and even if blade couldn't exactly benefit from whatever you had just done, he somehow felt a thousand times better than he's ever felt in a century. a flicker of a smile could unmistakably be seen in his features, and whether you had caught that or not, he saw you grinning all the same.

on a normal day, blade would have found himself grumbling about losing yet another chance at death, but instead, here he was, smiling at you.

the thought of dying at last had evidently crossed his mind more than once, but never did the thought of dying for someone else. blade very well knew that he could never be that selfless; maybe he had been once upon a time, but that had only costed him the sweet liberation of death.

and yet, the fact that he feels that greatly for you was enough to keep him up the rest of the night, the image of your blinding smile forever seared in his mind.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the fourth time these thoughts had started to creep up to him again was when the both of you coincidentally crossed paths at an ungodly hour, that you had the bright idea to go gaze at the stars together.

the thought of doing something together made his heart clench, but blade, against his better judgement, allowed you to take his hand in yours as you searched for the perfect spot to watch the stars from from their location.

the skies were clear that night, as if the universe had anticipated that two sleepless beings would be standing at the dock and watch the stars align before their very eyes. with a watchful eye, he stared as you could hardly contain your own excitement. "look, look! there's the brightest star — oh, i never thought we could get such a proximate view from here!" you kept flailing your hand everywhere and he wondered where exactly you had found that energy.

that was when he realized you had never let go of his hand, and instinctively, blade found himself clenching your hand in an attempt to let go. noticeably, your gaze flicked towards him, a momentary glance but the emotion it held in it was enough to send a chill down his spine. he could feel your grip on his hand loosen slightly, but blade didn't want to be a fool any longer.

something in him told him to keep holding onto you, as his fingers interlocked with your hand and held it firmly. blade could hear your breath hitch at his sudden gesture, but naturally, you just smiled and squeezed his hand back.

oh, how your smile had always made his heart ache.

"beautiful, isn't it?" you whispered under your breath, as your eyes were now fixed on the sky above the both of you. the world felt dangerously quiet, but he did not mind the fleeting peace it gave him. blade simply hummed in approval, his mind lost in the moment but he never found the urge to peel his eyes away from you.

to him, you were the brightest star that night and how he foolishly hoped that you’d never get tired of shining your light on him.

“yes, it is.” but foolish dreamers could never get what they want.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

the fifth time was the last time, the time where blade had fully convinced himself that he could not possibly get involved with someone as great as you.

you were sitting across from him as you shared another cup of tea with him. blade could vividly remember the first time he had done this with you like it had only happened yesterday. still, it had been months since then — but you still haven't changed at all.

"is there something in your cup?" blade hadn't realized that his gaze became fixed on the porcelain cup that you handed to him minutes ago, that he barely even touched it. "no. it’s nothing.”

whether you had sensed his avoidance or not, you didn’t comment on it further. blade ended up taking a sip of his tea just as you were fiddling with the detailed carvings on your cup. now, it was probably his turn to sense that you had been avoiding something. “is there something on your mind?”

you looked up at him suddenly, no doubt wondering if blade had just said what he said — not that blade was particularly good at providing a form of care like you did, but his silence had always made him a good listener.

“you know, i really appreciate that you’re spending time with me.” you started, as blade watched your fingers graze over your cup for the millionth time, a habit that you had often done when you were nervous. how he knew that was something he’ll take to the grave.

blade didn’t say a word, only resorting to taking another sip from his tea. what was there to say? that he felt the same but a million times more in magnitude? it would be uncharacteristic of him to admit something that embarrassing. maybe, it had been his lack of response, that you continued to talk.

“sorry, i know you would prefer much quieter companions,” you spoke with a suppressed laugh, the same distinct chuckle that blade could recognise even from a mile away. “truthfully, i thought you even disliked me.”

it was his turn to be perplexed, as blade looked up to meet your gaze that was … on him. you sheepishly smiled at the sudden confession, before you took a big gulp of your tea. his head was spinning, and maybe it had been something in the tea, but blade could feel his tongue loosen with the many things he had been holding back. “i did. i do.”

a twinge of hurt crossed your eyes for a moment, before you casted your eyes downward. “oh.”

“i hated how nice you are,” he blurted out. “i hated how you would look at me with a great deal of concern in your eyes like i am someone to be pitied.”

“i hated how you’d still try to be there and talk to me, even when i had pushed you away before.”

“i hated how you are able to read me like the back of your hand. i hated how you could easily make me feel safe with your smile.” blade had wanted to stop talking, but the words kept going.

“i hated how gently you would tend to my scars, how your eyes would sparkle at the mention of something you love and how downright mesmerizing it is for me.” he watched as your eyes widened, before they were plunged in a tirade of emotions that were no doubt a result to his words.

he wasn’t finished yet, though.

“but most of all, i hated how whenever i’m around you, or even think about you, dying is the last thing i’d ever wish for.”

the uncomfortable silence settled in between them again, save for the whirring of the machines that blade was suddenly grateful for. he couldn’t bear to even look up at you, lest he’d see the hurt in your eyes again. “blade...”

“sorry. that was very unbecoming of me. i can go.”

“blade...” he took the last gulp of his tea before bringing the cup down with a clang. “thank you. for the tea, as always—”

“blade.” he looked up to finally meet your gaze that was only a breath away from him, before he could feel your hand gently cradling his cheek before you leaned your forehead against his.

oh. oh. you didn’t say anything more but still singlehandedly calmed his largest worries with just a simple gesture.

“you know, you could have just told me you liked me a lot.” typically, the cheeky and teasing tone in your voice would make him groan, but only this time, he allowed himself to smile. “also, what did you mean by the tea?”

now he was confused. “didn’t you give me tea?” you shook your head. “what the hell was that then?”

you could hardly suppress a grin. “you said you wanted rice wine one time, so …” so that’s why all those words spilled out of him … a groan escaped blade just as you laughed at his mishap, but not that he completely regretted it.

he knew that no matter what he did, he could never deserve someone like you — but he would choose to die for you a million times, that much was certain.

but for now, blade could most definitely contend for choosing to live for you instead.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

#blade x reader #blade honkai #hsr blade #blade x y/n #blade x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade hsr #hsr x you #hsr #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail scenarios #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail blade #hsr fluff #5 + 1 fic #honkai star rail fic #honkai star rail oneshots #blade angst #blade fluff #hsr angst #hsr fanfic #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr x y/n #star rail x y/n #·˚ * 🔭 carlyle writes

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

17. 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽

From that moment on, (Y/n) clung to the new arrivant. While Dorian was relieved to know his partner had gotten over his initial dislike for the girl, he wondered what had been the catalyst for this change. The other day, the child had another nightmare. In the middle of the day, she had entered their room and made a beeline for Killian's coffin. The dark haired vampire had comforted her, while Dorian had smiled at the sight fondly. He preferred not to dwell too much on the cause of this positive outcome ; it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they said. Everything was good; everyone was in their place. It was almost perfect.

The girl would turn twelve in two weeks and the next blood moon would be a week after that. He knew Killian probably still planned to leave, but Dorian knew the other vampire well. His dear companion was so predictable. His compassion would make him stay. For their girl. He wouldn’t leave her. The blond just had to find a way to make him stay until the girl's turning.

He gazed out one of the study's windows and observed the silhouette riding on a horse outside in the night. He smiled, resting his chin on his hand as he followed Killian's path with his eyes. The dark haired vampire had always been one for the outdoors, even as a human. He had fascinated Dorian, and still did to this day. He could still vividly remember their first meeting, a memory that would never leave him.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

Humans, Dorian found, were quite interesting beings; they had this way of living — always in motion — that baffled him. Despite the specter of impermanence hanging over them, humans embraced life with a tenacity that Dorian found intriguing. They indulged in pleasures, sought out joys, and painted their existence with vibrant hues of experiences. It was a paradox that resonated with him on a profound level — the knowledge of an eventual end, yet an unwavering commitment to savoring every fleeting moment. It made him wonder if he had acted the same way once. 

There was a time, one or two forevers ago, when he too had been part of this vibrant dance of life. He had been human, a mere mortal swept up in the currents of time. He didn't remember much of his time as a human; his turning had erased most of his memories. Disappeared in an ember, a burned tableau turned to ashes dissolving in the wind of eternal change, leaving behind a void where his mortal past once thrived. He had started anew as a blank canvas; his own sire abandoning him carelessly only days following his turning.

"Tell me more about yourself, Monsieur de Beauvoir," a voice pierced through his contemplations, and he turned to regard the lady who had initiated the inquiry. Despite his charming smile, her name had already slipped through the crevices of his recollection.

"I am sure there are more interesting discussions than listening to the stories of a man such as myself, milady," he responded in a melodious voice.

The human giggled, as if that had been the funniest joke she had heard. "You are too humble, Duke de Beauvoir," she gushed. "What brought a Frenchman such as yourself to England ?" The lady asked, stepping closer.

 "I merely wished for a change of scenery," he replied vaguely, his tone carrying an air of mystery that only fueled the lady's curiosity.

The lady's words, laced with a hint of flirtation and delivered in a sultry voice, hung in the air like a delicate perfume, enveloping the space between them. "A great reason to make new acquaintances," she insinuated, her gaze locked with Dorian's, her proximity closing the gap between them.

In response, Dorian allowed a playful glint to flicker in his eyes, acknowledging the unspoken invitation. He was always willing to be entertained. He considered the possibility of continuing their exchange in a quieter corner of the palace, away from the prying eyes and curious gazes of the other attendants.

"A great way indeed," added a new person who inserted himself into the conversation, "Charlotte, why don't you introduce me to this fine gentleman ?" 

Dorian, accustomed to the art of captivating an audience, turned around with practiced grace, ready to unleash his signature charming smile. The voice that had interrupted their conversation had piqued his interest, and he welcomed the attention with a subtle anticipation. Among vampires, pride was a prevailing trait, and Dorian, in particular, relished the spotlight. The knowledge that others hung on his every word, that he could control the narrative and reveal only what he wished, provided him with an exhilarating rush.

As he prepared to unveil his charismatic persona, Dorian's poised demeanor faltered ever so slightly at the sight before him. Long wavy auburn hair lazily gracing his shoulders; sharp yet beautiful features and striking hazel eyes. Truly, a sight to behold. True beauty was something hard to come across, yet here it presented itself to him, in such unforeseen circumstances. The mortal put an arm protectively around the lady’s shoulders and Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure of their bond.

"Brother," Charlotte greeted with warmth, introducing the mysterious man at her side. "This is Duke Dorian de Beauvoir."

Dorian inclined his head with a polite acknowledgment, his charming smile remaining intact. "Bonsoir, it is a pleasure to meet you," he trailed off, trying to catch the name of the stranger.

"Killian," he supplied. "Killian Ambrose-Hart."

"Ambrose," he mused inwardly. An ancient name, steeped in history, meaning Immortal. Everlasting. The serendipity of the encounter was not lost on Dorian. His lips curled up. This must have been fated. Dorian's eyes, still retaining their playful gleam, lingered on Killian for a moment longer. 

"Why don't you join us," the blond suggested, gesturing at an empty seat at their table.

"Brother, sir de Beauvoir is from France," Charlotte informed him. "He was about to tell me more about himself."

"Nothing quite interesting, I'm afraid," he responded a bit dismissively, turning his attention back on the brother who had sat down reluctantly. "London is grand and lively, nothing like what I am used to from France. I would need someone to show me around to get accustomed to the new scenery."

When the other didn't seem to get the hint, the conversation continued, the sister trying to get Dorian's attention while he had been ensnared by the unsuspecting brother. The siblings eventually departed and the blond was left bitter.

Now that Dorian knew he existed, no other man would suffice. The heart wanted what it wanted, and his ? Well, his wanted this elusive human.

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

"Are you almost done ?" (Y/n)'s modulated voice brought him back to reality.

His eyes landed on her, adorning a magnificent rose red dress that complimented her complexion. She posed on a black chair, elegant and youthful. He looked back at his tableau.

His first and last human portrait of her. Her skin still glowed with colorful warm hues, her eyes lacked any hint of red and her teeth were dull compared to that of vampires. He rarely captured life, but he was willing to make an exception for his child. Soon she would be different. For the better, but nonetheless different.

He wondered how she would react to her turning. He would ensure it would be as painless as he possibly could. This would certainly be a night to remember, and perhaps even the first she would remember. Dorian wondered if like him, she would be among the few who lost their memory of their human life following their turning. He hoped she would. Starting anew with her would be the greatest gift that could be given to him. He could educate and mold her properly; no pesky memories of her parents and her peasant life. She would only know him and Killian.

He turned back towards her. "Not yet, doll," he answered and chuckled as she sighed. "Be patient— and smile."

"Do you often paint ?" She asked, perhaps trying to make the time pass faster.

"For as long as I can remember," he answered. A talent he must had retained from his human life, he supposed. "All paintings on display on this floor were made by me."

"Really ?" She turned around, pointing at one portrait of him and Killian in the room. "Even this one ?"

"Indeed," he confirmed with a smile, then added: "Stop moving, doll."

"Isn't it easier to bring in a painter to paint you and him together ?" (Y/n) asked, settling back into place.

"We tried," he acknowledged, "but we found mine always turned out better."

Painters had this ability of picking up small details most didn't see. Teeth too white, fangs too sharp, skin taking a deathly color. They saw too much. They showed too much. They accentuated it all too much, peeling away the carefully crafted façade created by them. Presenting what wasn’t meant to be shown ; what they didn’t want to be shown.

"They really are pretty," she complimented.

"Thank you," he smiled. "We are almost done."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #unhealthy relationships #toxic relationship #stockholm syndrome

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: after having received an owl from Sebastian asking to meet, you prepare for an adventure but are pleasantly surprised by something else.

note :: requests are wide open

“I see my owl reached you well.”

“I came as soon as I could, are you alright?” Your jogging slowed as you reached Sebastian. With the lack of details in his note, you assumed had the worst.

Sebastian had sensed this and made a mental note to specify no danger next time, if there was to be a next time. “Yes, everything’s alright. Don’t worry.”

You puffed a relived sigh. “Oh thank Merlin.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you.” This was not a good start.

“So, what did you need me for?” You returned.

“Well,” he stood straight. “I thought I’d show you something rather interesting.”

“Right.” Cautiously, you retrieved your wand. Sebastian had only chuckled. He really needed to spend more time with you without imminent danger nearby.

“Lumos.” As Sebastian’s wand tip brightened, four candles drifted into sight.

“A charm?” You questioned, to which Sebastian shrugged playfully.

“We’ll just have to find out, I suppose.” His tone left no absence of trickery and you found yourself cautiously smiling. What was he up to? “Ladies first.” He gestured forward.

Lifting a brow at him, you casted lumos and stepped ahead. The candles began to drift and you gave Sebastian another look before following them.

The two of you walked in silence. You keenly aware of your surroundings and watching for possible danger whilst Sebastian watched your back, literally. He watched your hair bounce and your school coat lift in the wind. He was notorious for being unable to keep his eyes off you.

As you turned the last corner, more candles joined the four you had followed. They had rested over two white garden chairs and a table. The small flames delicately washed the area with light. It was utterly romantic.

“Sebas-?”

He’d already approached the chair and table, pulling out one seat and nodding for you to sit in it. You did and he sat adjacent to you. “Now, I know this isn’t quite a meal, but I managed to snatch these from the kitchen.” From a pocket within his cloak, Sebastian retrieved two muffins, sliding one to you.

“I don’t- thank you. I don’t quite- what is this?” You flustered.

“I thought I’d do something nice. For you.” He shifted. “Since you’ve been such a help to me, and Anne.”

“Oh, Sebastian.”

“And I figured it was about time I took you somewhere with no tombs or caves.”

You weren’t sure exactly how to respond. A simple ‘thank you’ didn’t do justice to the excited burning you felt in your chest. You couldn’t just say ‘thank you’ not after he’d gone to all this trouble! “Thank you.” You squeaked. Looking down at the muffin he’d given you and began to pick off small bits, eating them.

“I suppose this would be a better time than any to catch up. So, what have you been up to?”

“Just keeping up really. Finishing extra assignments and whatnot. I’ve recently been getting friendlier with some beasts, thanks to Poppy.”

“She’s quite the personality, isn’t she?” Sebastian commented.

“Yes, she’s very sweet.” You smiled to yourself, thinking of the brunette. “What of you? Making any friends other Ominus and I?”

“Was that a criticism?” Sebastian smirked.

“Merely a observation.” You shrugged playfully.

“Unfortunately not. I’m afraid the two of you take up too much of my time. If I made another friend, I’m sure they’d be horribly neglected.” You laughed and Sebastian brightened at the sight.

“I suppose if getting this kind of treatment means you having less friends, I’ll just have to keep you all to myself.”

“You could.” Sebastian returned. You choked on a bit of muffin.

“Pardon?”

“You could, have me all to yourself I mean. More often.” He repeated.

“Is that so?”

“It is indeed.” Sebastian leaned further down the table, viewing you with excitement.

“Sebastian, I know you didn’t take me out here merely as a thanks for my efforts.” You leaned forward too. “Care to tell me why we’re really here?”

“If you must know.” Sebastian began, tone giving way to a loving mischievousness. “I suppose I’ve got something of a confession.”

Oh dear. Here it comes. You sat up, preparing yourself. I’ll say yes, you thought.

“Will you- be my partner for the duelling championship tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yes I- what?”

Sebastian could only laugh. You felt your cheeks become hot and a wave of embarrassment hit you. Suddenly, it wasn’t so cold anymore.

You excused yourself from the table and stood. Sebastian followed quickly. “Oh come now, I was only joking.”

“Sebastian.” You sighed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You could hear his smile. Cautiously, his hand pressed into your lower back, then hooked your hips, bringing you into him. “I’ll make it up to you. How about we do this again?”

Oh how good it felt to be strung along by Sebastian. Just waiting for his fated confession. A sort of cat and mouse. Truthfully you knew of one another’s desire for the other but the chase was just too fun for Sebastian to ever settle down.

“Alright.” You caved.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy

[emsgwenstan]

Unending, undone.

Larissa Weems x fem reader. (Angst)

Words: 2k?

Warnings: angst, delusions, unrequited love.

Note: I hate this. one of my wips I need to get rid of, I didn’t want to delete the entire thing, I really couldn’t be bothered to edit and make it better. Anyway- hopefully it’s kinda enjoyable, apologies in advance I wrote this like 7 months ago.

———

It was the weekend and as of that, yourself, Larissa, vlad and the elderly library lady from nevermore were chaperoning the students that wanted to go into Jericho. Before the kids got off the bus it was made clear once again that they will all be departing at 3:30pm and if not accounted for find your own way back to the school and expect consequences.

all departed off the bus to do their own things, old mrs Byrnes to the local library, vlad to the sports and recreation shop, Larissa entered the wethervain and you opted to stroll the streets.

After about two hours of walking in the bone chilling autumn air, you decide to cross the street to take refuge in the weathervane, hoping Larissa is willing to have you as company if she’s still in there, you hadn't seen her since she walked into the café. Reaching the door her silver hair caught your attention, Larissa was sat at her usual booth close to the back almost tucked away, your gaze was strictly on her, eyebrows slightly furrowed eyes glued to a spot out side, but the small twitch of her lips made her seem to be deep in thought. after working with Larissa for a long period of time you found yourself observing her closely, admiring her from afar, knowing, understanding what makes her happy or mad, keeping a mask was enough to fool others but to you, she was like an open book.

Entering, you walked up to the counter, ordered and paid. Turning to face her, she still hadn’t moved, her shoulders rigged and back straight, statue looking. You waltz over, placing your phone and purse on the table in hopes it breaks her trans like state with a simple. “Hey.” It doesn’t. You took to squatting down and wrapping you hand gently around her gloved wrist that was nursing a cup of black coffee, Larissa let out a small gasp turning to face who ever it was that startled her, only to look down a bit to find you.

“Oh how rude of me I didn’t realise you were there, apologies.” She said softly with a forced smile. You didn’t respond, merely giving her a look of concern, the longer she peered into your eyes the more she knew what you were trying to say. “How could I be so daft to think she couldn’t see right through me?” She thought.

“Do you want me to sit across you or beside you?” You asked standing, sounding maybe a little to stern, however when it comes to the people you deeply care about only seriousness and attentiveness are needed plus a ton of comfort. Larissa shifted over in the seat to make room for you and took to peering back out into the town.

"two large hot chocolates?" the waiter asked slipping the cups gently onto the table. You whipped your head around to him. "yes! thank you so much." you said feeling a little reprieved having to take your eyes away from Larissa, although her interest was piqued at the words 'hot' and 'chocolate'. "oh um would you mind taking this one please?" you asked him, whilst dragging the coffee from Larissa grasp. "yeah no worries, enjoy ladies." he said before returning behind the counter.

Larissa was giving you the biggest look, at this point. “I wasn’t fini-“. She began. “No.” You simply said cutting her off. “The amount of sips you took from the time of me being here, to the lack of steam, means you have had the same cup for quite some time, so you have most definitely finished dearest. Not to mention it was straight black coffee, very unlike you.” You stated proudly, whilst pushing her a cup and pulling one towards yourself.

Watching her hesitantly take a drink, not wanting you to see her defeat, you smirked in victory. Sitting in silence for a while you noticed her demeanour shift, reverting back to her former melancholy state. You took to laying your hand on her thigh and tilting your head in a concerned way. Larissa was unfazed by the action, however still hyper aware of you touch.

Stroking your thumb over her exposed knee, “come, we only have ten minutes.” She blinked a few times to settle back into the air of reality before downing the remanence of her drink. You scooted out of the booth and offered a hand to Larissa, you could feel the warmth radiating from her soft leather gloves. Once standing, she habitably smooths down her dress, you take ahold of her upper arm and waltz out of the cafe and towards the bus.

Doing a head count of all the students that re-entered the vehicle you usher vlad and help mrs Byrnes, before resting your hand on the small of Larissa’s back to help her get in, not that she couldn’t do it herself of course, but you felt the need to gently coax her out of her mind and try getting her to focus until she was back at the school.

With all the children off and back on campus, you were the last ones off I the bus. “I’ll take you to your room.” You said, reaching for her hand. Instantly though, she dodged your grasp only to looked at you as if you tried to burn her, confused you took a step back thing you overstepped. After a moment of awkward silence you spoke. “I’ll uh.. I’ll just go and leave you to it.” You said turning to walk away, your face bright red from embarrassment.

Although you must have taken only about three steps until you felt a warm ungloved hand and fingers threaded through your own and another wrapped around your elbow. Stopping, you peered into her eyes trying to figure out what she’s trying to say, but instead of asking you resumed walking with her attached to you.

Reaching her quarters, she let herself inside only to turn around and see you didn’t follow her. Popping her head back out the door to see you walking back to your own room. “Y/n?” She questioned. You turned back to gaze at her. “What are you doing? Did… you want to come in?” She said softly. “I just thought that- well… you? I?” You stuttered not really knowing what you thought. Larissa left the doorway making a b-line for you. “Would you like to come in? I assumed you would come with me.” She started, sounding confident but gradually became more timid.

Nodding as a yes you both walked separately into her home. Your eyes widen in awe at her living decor, all pieces, trinkets and art were the embodiment of Larissa. She was amused at your staring, pointing out a couple of artists to the paintings you seamed fixated on. Your amazement wasn’t just about the objects themselves more the fact that Larissa and yourself have very similar tastes, however she can afford to buy the finer things in life.

Everything was gawked at, Larissa took note of how you shared the same interests. “Y/n? Do you happen to like shoes?….designer shoes?” She asked your face dropped. “Yes! I do.” She smiled and told you to follow her. You entered what seemed to be her very own room and walk in closet. It was beautiful and organised, she bent down and pulled out a few shoe boxes. “I have these brought over from London every couple of months and I haven’t gotten to sending them back, there the wrong sizes, I think they may fit you.” She said. “Really!… I mean no.” You said trying hard not to be overzealous.

She pulled out a pair of black heals. Ones you’ve had your eye on for years and there they were in her grasp. “Here try them on.” She pleaded. “I mustn’t.” You said “sit.” She commanded taking a hold of your shoe and pulling it off putting it on herself. “There perfect. You may have all of them.” She said. “No, Larissa I can’t.” You said. “Either you take them or I’ll find a way to put them in your room.” She said. Giving in you thanked her and you understand how much they cost and will take care of each one.

After a while of sitting on the floor she lay down with her eyes fluttering. “How about I put you to bed hmmm?” You asked. Larissa looked at her watch. “It’s only five.” You placed the shoes back in there boxes and stacked them on top of each other. “Yes but your exhausted, if you like I’ll come back later and bring some food?” You wondered taking a hold of her elbows as she held onto the insides of yours. Larissa didn’t answer, she merely smiled and walked out into her room and paced to a beautiful tall chested draws and pulled out a navy satin sleep set.

You stood awkwardly in the closet doorway as you watched her ‘should I go back and rearrange the shoes or?…’ you thought, not knowing if you should just leave to give her privacy or what. Larissa tossed the set on her ridiculously large and lavish bed and turned to you. “Y/n would you mind unzipping my dress, I just have trouble reaching behind.” She asked. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at her request, your strong, stern and hopeful front melting away.

You reached up and grabbed her zip dragging it down the expanse of her back, her bra clasp came into view as well as the freckles that littered her skin that you hadn’t seen before. Your hands lingered a little to long and Larissa slowly turned to face you. “I know, someone like me not being able to reach is quite sporadic isn’t it.” She blushed ducking her head. “Not at all, not everyone is as flexible as others, I know I’m certainly not.” You said with a chuckle.

Larissa smiled and moved her hand to her shoulder to peal the material away, slow enough for it to be your queue to leave if need be. That you did, you turned on your heals and made your way back into the walk-in robe to peer at her other belongings.

“You can come back.” She spoke softly, if it were you, you’d probably yell it for some reason even if it’s unnecessary. “Larissa?” You asked, walking to her bed pulling back the covers for her, she plopped on the bed taking out her earrings and removing the rest of her jewellery. “Mmm?” She hummed in acknowledgment. You busied yourself with pulling out the pins in her hair and for once you weren’t the first one to relies how intimate the whole afternoon has been.

“Do you think you could tell me what’s going on in your mind.” You asked concentrating on her hair, trying hard not to pull or hurt. Larissa let out a sigh as if she was dreading the question. “I’m just… not myself today. I’ve been thinking of the past a little to much lately and things I should have done and what things I could have done differently, unhealthy I know but that’s all.” She said in a low velvety voice. “I see. You know I’m here to listen to anything you have to say, I support you and care very much about your wellbeing, no matter how laughable that sounds.” You said.

Larissa raised her chin and looked up through her lashes at your face. A doting, sweet expression graced your face. “Thank you, darling.” She whispered. “Lay down, I’ll draw the curtains and I’ll go ok.” You pulled the covers up over her body to get warm.

With the curtains drawn and all things done, you made your way back to Larissa’s side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut as you dipped beside her, larissa looked peaceful and relaxed, it’s a little foreign being so close to larissa in her own home and in her most vulnerable state. You couldn’t manage to tear your eyes away from her soft lips and gorgeous free hair, until you relised her pyjamas had slightly fallen down her shoulder. More freckles adorned her pale skin, had you been aware of her lingering gaze you wouldn’t had stared for so long with out a word.

“What’s the matter?” She asked. “Oh! Nothing, I… sorry I was just, admiring.” You confessed. Your skin turned red once again, you could have just lied but what the use in not telling her how utterly beautiful she is. “Admiring?” She asked with a little smile. “Yes. Your just so…” you began. “A curiosity.” She whispered with her eyes turning sad and seemingly hurt. “No not at all, your beautiful, stunning, exquisite even.” You grinned down at her seeing the way her eyes sparkle at your words.

“Oh.” She said clearly not ready for you to say such wonderful things to her. ‘I love you’. You thought. For the longest time you had been alone and so had Larissa, it feels like your saving each other from drowning in loneliness, a life raft for one another. Her expression changed to complete confusion with wide eyes. “What?” You asked. “You-just…. Did you just say I love you.” She asked almost out of breath. ‘No. No fucking way I just did that.’ Without thinking you shot up and ran to the door and left without so much as a peep.

“Wait-no! Please, I, y/n!” Larissa shouted clambering off and out of the bed, she ripped out her dressing gown and slipped on a pair of flats within 30 seconds and sprinted to your quarters through passage ways to avoid potential eyes. Arriving, she knocked on the door relentlessly to no avail, only to find that the door was unlocked. Stepping in the room cautiously she found you curled in bed with multiple layers of bedding covering your shaking body. Larissa took it upon herself to remove her shoes and gown before fighting you to let go of your vice grip on the blankets, you were laying on your stomach with your face pressed into the pillows. Larissa sunk down into the bed slipping beside you re-covering you both with the covers before she turned on her side and wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you flush to her, front to front.

You hid your head in your hands against her breasts wishing your were invisible. “Y/n. I need you to look at me for what I’m about to say.” She asked, earning a whimper of refusal from you. So she did what was necessary, Larissa grasped your hands prying them away from your face to be met with a wet mess of a face, your eyes open and involuntarily you mouth twitches into a small smile just by looking at her, but faded when you remember what just happened revoking your sight and shutting your eyes again. “Look at me love.” She asked, cupping your cheek using the backs of her fingers to wipe away the tears.

You took a deep breath and looked at her again. “Y/n..” she started. “I love you to.” She said running her fingers through your hair. You stared at her and waited for her to continue. “You asked me what I was thinking about today and I told you I wasn’t feeling like myself… but the truth is, I was watching you for a while this morning, admiring. But I relised that you could never want me. You could never possibly feel the same. Then when you walked in I started to think about previous relationships I’ve had and how terrible they turned out.”

You couldn’t believe it, Larissa Weems, your boss and friend, the most elegant and graceful woman you had ever met loves you. “I-I…” you stuttered , but being unable to conjure words the only option was to show her how you feel. You moved your hands to her face and slowly moved up, each others breath’s mingling, noses and lips lightly brushing, you pull back just to look into her eyes silently asking if it were ok. Larissa crashed her lips onto yours, passionate and strong but oh so loving.

Or at least that's what you wished would of happened if she hadn't let you go back to you quarters when you arrived back at the school. if only Larissa had caught up to you when you turned to leave her, if only she threaded her fingers through your own and stopped you. The small imaginary scenarios are what keeps your mind active but heart heavy, you wouldn't be laying in bed sobbing dreaming of such delusional things, but i suppose we cant all get the ones we love in the end right?

______

its been a week since your little awkward incident and both yourself and Larissa have been avoiding each other like the plague, although every night Larissa walks past your quarters to get back to her own, trying to have enough courage to just ask if your ok, but never does, not until she heard struggled breaths and choked sobs emanating from within your room. it was quiet late, very late in fact, almost ten past three in the morning.

she stood outside your door with her back resting on the architrave. "i don't know what I'm supposed to do, i mean i look so stupid crying over a woman i know doesn't want me, why would she? i give her no reason for her to be interested in me, I'm nothing, no one, but is it so wrong to be in love with Larissa?" you asked talking to no one in particular out your window. Larissa's pursed lips pried open in disbelief at your words.

she turned and and without hesitation knocked, wanting- needing to see you, needing your eyes to look at her, needing to be close, not caring who or what you were talking to. after a brief moment you swung open the door with furrowed brows until you saw her, your face dropped at her appearance.

standing there in silence her eyes seemed to tell you something you couldn't understand. Larissa brushed past you and welcomed herself into your room, confused, you closed the door to face her. "I'm afraid I've been quite the asshole." she said. "pardon?" you asked. “I’m sorry y/n, it’s been hard avoiding you and if you would let me… I’d like to apologise and hopefully we can work on this.” She said gesturing between the two of you.

You stood planted to the ground until you took small steps towards her and embraced her in a hug as an acceptance. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now but I only wish to help, please don’t push me away. Even though you don’t feel the same way about me, assuming you just heard, then that’s ok.” You said pulling away from her looking into Larissa’s sad eyes. “I think I can love you, I will learn to, I have to learn how to love again first y/n, but I won’t push you away I’ll try to keep you close I promise.”

At that you lead her out to your balcony and sat down watching the stars soaking in this new kind of relationship, whether it will eventuate into something more then a friendship doesn’t matter because at the end of the day Larissa knows you will always be there, the cards are now resting in her hands, not all expectations are met, not every story ends happily, but for now it’s just the two of you, no one else and you will forever be bonded, now we will never know.

@sabraaabra

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #gwenchrist(ie) #larissa x reader #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

[ctheathy]

Yandere Miles “Nine” Prower Headcanons

Nine x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author’s note : Here’s the Nine hcs I promised!! Hope you enjoy these little double trouble posts <3<3

The original post with yandere Miles [Where Was My Hero?] + Similarities ➷

Nine/Reader [Romantic//Platonic]

+Slight WWMH Tails x Reader in bonus section [Romantic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs ⚠️ :

Fiercely overprotective behaviour • Slight anger issues • Severe trust issues • Slight delusional mindset • Anxiety • Jealousy • Emotional dependency • Descriptions of bullying • Nine is somewhat snappy

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Nine is a mobian who grew up mainly reclusive throughout his life until you decided to come around. Having dealt with severe bullying alongside the obvious loneliness through the years having caused in quite the instinctive distrust, and the amount of time he’s kept himself isolated in his underground workshop not helping with his antisocial behaviour in the slightest. No matter how the two of you would have met, it’s likely going to start off with you finding yourself intrigued by the nine-tailed presence. Perhaps you are a naturally doting individual, felt mesmerised by the uniqueness of the extra metallic tails, found his aura lure you in, or something else completely; But whatever is was, something you hadn’t realised is that this had caused in unintentional staring, unknowingly pushing attention onto the fox. And Nine, being the rather defensive spirit he is, would immediately assume the worst and take offense to this; resulting in you being cruelly confronted and perhaps even attacked, demanding answers for the unwanted observation. But the harmless intend you had behind your interest was quite literally the last thing he would have expected to occur.

The yellow furred fox has lacked normal interaction for a very long time, so when you start to compliment him to no end, he feels a slight sense of awkwardness, not used to the tender gestures you offered and praise slipping off’ another’s tongue so easily. It made him feel different... yet it somehow gave him a sense of closure with your words in particular. Which was surprising to him to say the least, especially as it had almost made him forget he was literal seconds away from clawing your face open with the metal tips of his tails. He knew he had met oddballs before, but you truly took it to a whole nother level. Though trust still wouldn’t be the exact wording to describe his current state right at that time, as he obviously still holds his suspicions, but your comments had certainly shut him up for a while. He would clam up and just stare at you wide eyed as you excitedly circled your way around him, not knowing what on Mobius to do about this situation. But little did he know that this would be the mere start of a dangerous soft spot starting to develop.

Though you had gotten out of harm’s way at first meeting, unfortunately for your case, this has not stopped him from continuously trying to push you away at first hand; he still thinks you’re weird... Rarely anybody had gone out of their ways to even speak to him if it wasn’t for harassment reasons, much less pamper him like you do-! He’d likely remain to add in on snarky comments, hoping it could scare you off one way or another. But even something that caught up with him over time was the realisation that despite your affectionate demeanour being quite the irritation to him at times, for some damned reason he just couldn’t dare to lay a finger on you with harmful intend. When questioned, he’d often just end up telling you and perhaps even himself that it’s purely due to the fact that you lack fighting experience and are rather delicate for your kind, giving him the opportunity to indirectly insult you once again, even if he realistically just can’t get himself to hurt you.

Another awkward one when it comes to your doting nature, but unaware of the emotional attachment that is slowly starting to form within his own mind. He’d find the growing fixation with you to be strange and uncanny to him, most likely behaving fairly cold torwards you in response, trying to reason with himself. He knows he’s more than capable taking care of himself, so why does he legit feel as if he’s dying when lacking your presence? Even his companionship with Sonic paled in comparison to what he felt torwards you. Over time he’d start noticing how much more numb he operates when you’re not around. Even when including subjects that would usually excite the fox, it’s almost as if it lost all meaning to him. It honestly being a surprise to even him how quickly attached he had gotten

For a certain while, he would even just put the blame on you for creating these changes in him so frequently; feeling as if he could have kept all his focus on a future surrounding his mechanical work until you and your mesmerising tactics came around. But this wouldn’t exactly stick with him for long, cause in the end he would really just put the accountability on himself for not escaping these sentiments while he had the chance, realising it to be irrational to blame you for something out of your control now. Even at this rate, finding himself at a dead end right about now, it really just results in a switch being flipped around inside of him; a little bit of hope wanting to give these said alliances one single try to work out for the both of you.

At first the fascination with you happened to be nothing but guilt-free, it even having been considerable as wholesome in a way. He’d especially invite you over to his workshop a lot, seeming to be incredibly thrilled telling you all about everything he’s learned over the years and show you the latest inventions he’s been working on. It almost had felt as if these moments in particular were slowly starting to recover the inner child of his that he’s lost track off a long time ago. But something you didn’t know about was the unwell side to this that also just so happened to be in growth. You’d find yourself spending more and more time in his workshop, weirdly after Nine had decided upon giving you an one hour talk on why the place was more trustable than any other out there; lecturing you without true purpose and trying to get his said conclusions across. You cannot remember when you’ve last seen the outside world, but you trust Nine. Surely you could take his word for anything ... Right?

He would be especially starved for your praise and appreciation, finding himself melting right on the spot when even just a simple compliment gets tossed his way. When being an individual who is gentle with their wording, he really takes everything that leaves your mouth to heart; but there remains a risky segment to this. Just due to how accustomed he can get to your encouragement, he can easily be put in a state of fraught when the amount of it has been too little for his liking. This also being the exact little push in making him contribute in acts that could potentially be considered as dangerous for as long as it catches your attention. He also gets severely apprehensive and rather uneasy when you need to leave his workplace for personal reasons; his anxiety being very much capable to be pushed torwards a full-on panic attack in no time. This would likely end up in him questioning the point behind their wanted leave and instead offering to do the job for them, which would eerily sound more like a demand than anything else. When the offer is insisted, however; he’ll still go with you, no questions asked, being fearful for your welfare and literally snarling at those who even dare getting too close.

If danger were to fall on you, he would absolutely lose his mind. He’s already naturally protective of those who earned his approval, and he truly expects himself to be ready for anything that could be causing them potential harm; so when a hit still does manage to strike you, it makes him feel distraught and genuinely terrified for once in a while. He believes himself to be pathetic in a way, failing in your safety despite having made a strict promise to himself to keep your fragile self in high priority. He also tends to become extremely discomposed when something like this manages to happen, which would be somewhat surprising to say the least, as he’s usually pretty collected of himself. In a scenario like this he would get on the paranoid side when it comes to your welfare; literally demanding you to remain in Sonic’s eyesight while he takes care of the little nuisance... Despite the connection that’s grown between the two, he wouldn’t even trust Sonic much when it comes to your sake, but it would have to do for now. He’d for sure go out of his way to hunt down whoever the fool was that decided to inflict harm upon you, may that be in secretive or through whatever means; he will get them to be at his mercy and he will make them pay for their unjustified actions. Not giving much care torwards his own physical self and energy levels when it comes to that; avenging you through pure wrath just to prove himself to you.

Despite the aggression tendencies he may experience from time to time, he certainly isn’t one to harm his darling in any way possible. The least that could happen is a screaming outbreak being shown and him acting somewhat snappy torwards you for a day or so, but even these are extremely rare experiences; only really happening if you continuously push his buttons and try to get on his nerves by will. And even so, he just couldn’t get himself to remain mad at you

As mentioned before, other than his overprotective demeanour, Nine honestly just makes himself out to be rather cool and perhaps even cold torwards his darling at first hand, despite it under the surface being much closer to the complete opposite. This also includes in not realising how much it could actually affect both the relationship between one another and perhaps even the darling themselves if they just so happen to be a sensitive soul. But even that little facade of his gets crumbled into bits real fast when one small tiny hunch of you wanting to leave finds itself into the picture. When given the hint that you want a break, he becomes a mess. In a sense of recollection, Nine would overextend himself and work himself to exhaustion in order to get you to come back with him. This often ending up in fighting everything and anyone to obtain items as a peace offering, believing apologies by word to be far too insignificant.

May that not work? He might already just be on the mere verge of snapping himself. He almost becomes a whole nother mobian when out in this state, his emotions and his true instability starting to show. He feels a dreadful sense of desperation, one he absolutely doesn’t wish to remind himself of; but at this stage, he’d honestly take anything as long as it could prevent your leave. He would hunt you down, literally feeling as if he’s on his knees at this point. Overwhelming his darling with the unsanitary desperation lingering in his eyes as his broken tone burns its way through their ear canal, all while practically being pinned to a nearby wall. And when having them cornered like this, he doesn’t even give his darling a way to respond torwards the situation to begin with. Because as much as he wants to deny it, he wouldn’t even take a no as an answer anymore; giving them absolutely zero opportunity to make the choices of their own will and putting an end to the entire conflict finding himself in your arms, despite how you would’ve had a clear expression of both disapproval and discomfort plastered on your face. Honestly making you wonder whenever he truly wasn’t aware of your squirming form under his touch or if was his selfishness who simply made him uncaring torwards it.

Neither of the two being too far out of reach fromout your perspective.

Bonus section #2 : Differences

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To understand the changes they have between one another, it’s important to take note of the one thing that sets them apart from eachother in the first place. It’s accurate the particular state was caused by Sonic not being there for them when they needed it most, but the actual difference between the two would be their eventual responses torwards the mistreatment they’ve faced; ultimately Nine started fighting back all by himself, while for Miles’s case ... he literally snapped. Their current positions in their timelines would hold quite the difference as well; Miles’ mental state being the more unfavourable one out of the two, and having even worsened so as the years went on, while Nine’s weaker side would include his emotional state.

While Miles was closer to wanting to prove his worth to the world in the end, Nine would rather be captivated by the idea of getting back the youth he never had, returning those connections in his life that he’s always lacked. His desperation levels also lingering a lot higher than those of Miles do. But despite this, which may even come by surprise; out of the two, I can still see Nine being the more stable one, genuinely wanting to keep himself on proper levels of behaviour stability and the severity of poor choice making being a whole lot less. Unlike Miles, he knows and understands the differences between wrong and right; and though these could sometimes be infringed due to his emotions taking a toll on him, he deserves a whole lot more credit on atleast trying to keep himself restrained in instability matters. A negative part on his side, however, is how much more dependent emotionally he can become on a darling who holds a sweet demeanour torwards him. Though being one who tends to be calm and mature for his age, due to him having lacked a responsible role model growing up, I can also see him becoming reliant on his darling’s decisions and personal view on things, making him even more vulnerable torwards his obsession.

While Miles would usually just be one to showcase the roots of his thoughts and emotions without a speck of shame or reconsideration noticeable in there, Nine would definitely be the one who’s a whole lot more closeted with how he truly feels. He’s just been hurt so many times that it’s rather become a strong habit for self protection more than anything else, it being no doubt that he has major trust issues to work on. Though right at the same time, both remain to put a lot of faith in their darling, but for different reasons. Nine’s high hopes laying torwards the beliefs that his darling won’t just betray and leave him behind with the reliance he has on them, while Miles’ complexity rather being his trust that his darling shall be able to purify the unfair planet, much like he believes that they did to him.

An important opportunity Miles never got was much like with Sonic, Nine would specifically offer you the creation of a world with just the two of you, except this time it would very much be by will. A place where he’ll finally be happy and given the freedom he never had, one where absolutely nobody can seperate the both of you or bring your life into any considered danger. One where he could completely put his fate into your bare hands. A place better than New Yoke City or even Green Hill or any other universe could ever be-! No matter how long the both of you would have moved on from past occurrences surrounding the Prism Shard, Nine remains to be on edge ever since, as he surely doesn’t trust any dimension out there to be good enough for your sake. The only suggestion seeming to be acceptable to him being a world created from his own hands, truly believing you to desire the exact same thing.

Making him not understand why the tears keep rolling down your cheeks in acknowledgement to his masterwork.

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#yandere sonic prime #yandere tails #yandere nine #miles nine prower #tails nine #nine x reader #yandere tails x reader #yandere sonic the hedgehog #sonic x reader #sonic prime

[silverdune]

this siren song is not your calling | c.sn

"you were supposed to be no different.."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: fantasy/horror

character(s): choi san (ft. you as a seafarer)

tags: siren!san, seafarer!reader, captain!reader, ships, ocean, san has a tail (merpeople), scales and webbed fingers, angst, one cuss, mild gore

word count: 879

summary: choi san is a proud siren, one who has been watching and waiting to capture you for a while. but when he finally tries, something strange occurs..

a/n: ik this is quite short, i just thought of this concept the other day and wanted to write it; lmk if you're interested in an expansion? i'm up for writing more if you want to see more :)

He thought he had had you wrapped up from day one.

That's what he likes to believe anyway.

Choi San was a proud siren, chest in the air without a single thought paid to the hearts that became his trophies. Every sailor that attempted to parry his advances found themselves beneath the depths of his ocean plinth and the beating organ in their rib cage became another plaque on his figurative wall.

You were supposed to be no different.

Your ship had passed by many times, and he had taken note of your schedule once he caught on to how often you would take this exact route. Once San learned you were the captain, just from observation alone, a smirk appeared on his face. You would be his first.

When your ship passed through this waters for the dozenth time, he clambered forth onto his rock and waited for your approach. His pupils shifted to daggers, much like the shape of his teeth, his webbed fingers shimmering against the moonlight as water trickled down his hands.

He had done this so many times before; San had laughed to himself as he watched your ship glide across the waters. This was going to be easy.

Pushing himself up over the rock, he licked his lips a few times, ready to sing the song that he had rehearsed many times for this occasion. No one else would hear this song - this was for you and you alone.

Opening his mouth wide, a whistling cry sprung from his larynx, causing the ocean around him to ripple within an inch of its life. You could mistake the effect for a major thunderstorm or tornado, a testament to the sheer power in his lungs and voice.

Your ship continued to sail as if unaffected by the song. San thought to himself that in mere seconds you would be veering towards him, completely bound to his will and unable to escape. He was beyond excited to add your heart to his collection.

And yet, you sailed on by, remaining undeterred, and to that, he stopped.

His lips almost quivered as they sealed shut. He shuddered against the rock, disturbed by the fact that nothing had come of this attempt to allure you.

Glancing up, his cerulean eyes burning like an eel in the murkiest depths, he screamed again, but it wasn't so melodic as it was mangled in his defeat.

San had failed to enrapture you. He had failed to take your heart.

A loss so cruel it sent his boneless body back to the water.

But San did not intend to give up. He was going to have your heart, one way or another.

The next time you appeared, he did the same thing again, but this time made his presence better known. He was unmistakable, his tail a brilliant forest green, his shoulders brandishing well kept scales of a burgundy hue.

San glared across the waters, watching and waiting for your ship to be within reach. When he saw you take to the bow and hold a telescope to one eye, he opened his mouth to sing once again.

That was when you pointed your telescope directly at him.

Through the telescope, you spotted the siren on the rock, and upon closer inspection, dropped the telescope overboard and into the sea.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed. You almost threw yourself over trying to grab it, and just about managed to with your legs halfway in the air. The balustrade was nearly piercing your skin with how hard you were holding on, and the blood rushed to your head in seconds.

San shut his mouth and shot up, back completely straight. His eyes grew wide when he saw you.. and for some reason, he felt an urge to do something.

All caution, thought and sense was thrown out the window when he dived into the ocean and swam at great speed towards your ship. The second he got to you, he popped out from beneath the surface of the water and looked up at you.

Your jaw dropped.

As did his own.

No, no, no..

San did not have time to think about this. He brought a hand out of the water, splayed his fingers, then pushed his palm out, which sent you flying backwards over the railing and onto the deck of your ship.

The landing was sudden and unpleasant. The telescope was still firmly in your grasp. Your crew was rushing over to help.

Every voice blurred and melded into one big cacophony of noise.

The only thing you could see in your mind was the siren.

What was more horrifying was that.. you knew him.

San..

San didn't even return to his rock. He instead disappeared to the cavern where he often resided when he wasn't taking in the sun or the sights of his potential targets.

The tears were plain to see, even in the water.

Your name looped incessantly in his head even as he willed it to leave him be. Your face was now the only picture and it made him scream into the ether.

Now he understood why you did not respond. His siren song could not have persuaded you.

For your heart had already been his once before.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san scenarios #san imagines #san x reader #words.(ave) #fic: this siren song

[udretlnea]

In the Court of the Creator

Prompts: Inspired by Minecraft!Reader by @fandomshenanigans​, Wardens in the Chasm idea by @mists-reading-nook​ & Alt!+OG!Reader by @questionotmystopit​

Summary: You are brought before the Divine Creator after getting caught in the Chasm. However, before your fate is sealed they suddenly take an interest in your appearance, but why?

A/N: Originally there was supposed to be a two-page short comic serving as the introduction, but during the creative process I realized that 1) I was staying up too late that I simply couldn’t get my body to cooperate in drawing it, and 2) the end result was…not ideal to me; thus I had to scrap it and go ahead with just the story. If you’re wondering what I was doing…yeah it was all of that planning, writing, and internal discussion. Anyway, here’s the piece I was able to finally write and I hope you all enjoy it! (Normally I keep their gender ambiguous, but I really, really wanna write a male reader. Oh, and there’s that 100-follower event I’m cooking...my, I’m gonna be quite busy!)

TW: Precision F-word strike.

Words: 2.3 k

Proofread by: @soleillunne​

It was cold inside the lifeless, marble halls of Celestia. Your wrists were beginning to chafe with how tight the cuffs were; you tried to rub them together to try to loosen them, but it was in vain. Defeated, you merely continued trudging ahead of your captor.

“Keep moving,” a dignified female voice behind you ordered. You suppressed an eye roll. “We’ll be inside the throne room shortly. There, the Creator of Teyvat will judge you, imposter.”

There were those words again. Creator. Imposter. Words that you were familiar with after hearing them countless times ever since you found yourself trapped here with no way back home. How many times did you recite a prayer to this God of Gods hoping for some miracle to show you a way back? How many times did you catch people throwing you dirty looks, muttering about you being gifted for looking like their god; they stopped after you decided to wear a blindfold. Only the truly envious ones had the gall to call you an imposter.

You didn't care about that. You just wanted to sell your potions and find a way back to your beloved Minecraft world.

“Halt! We’ve arrived.” Your recollection is interrupted by the sudden command. You shake your head.  Your eyebrows raised at the impossibly huge set of doors. On either side were some kind of giant robots with a single menacing orange eye. They were adorned with miniature white tree branches on their shoulders. Both of them peered down at you as if silently judging your sins.

Your jailer stepped towards them; she was a tall female with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and wore a navy coat-no, that’s called a tailcoat. She made a salute to the robot closest to her; it made a rumbling noise before it signaled to the other one. They both turned and pushed open the doors. The hinges groaned like phantoms singing in an opera.

“Alright, let’s go,” said Ponytail.

The throne room was sparsely decorated, but the translucent floor that resembled the night sky made up for that. You instinctively looked up and couldn't help but lower your jaw in awe; up in the ceiling was a painting of a humongous figure draped in a white cloak with gold accents. There were stars on and around the body. Their arms were outstretched like they were expecting a hug.

You looked forward and felt your breath hitch. In the distance was a hooded figure sitting on a throne with two others standing on either side. Behind it was the open sky; there were no windows, meaning one could jump from there and fall from a great height. 

Okay, that’s enough intrusive thoughts.

You got close enough that you observed the people standing in front of the throne. To your left was a young woman with antlers and salmon-pink shoulder-length hair. She wore a dark red and black crop top and skirt; she had bright teal eyes with ovoid pupils. To your right was a tall beautiful woman with short hair with blue accents at the end; she wore a dark bodysuit with silver accents and a white fur coat draped over her back. A rather shiny bracelet was on her right wrist.

In her hand was your staff; it was a green metallic stick with a small cylinder protruding from the top with an orange square block inserted in between. They stared at you two as you stopped in front of them.

“As per protocol, I will begin listing off the crimes the guilty party has committed.” Antlers said with neutrality. She opened a scroll she was holding and cleared her throat. “According to eyewitness reports, you have been selling dangerous items to civilians with powerful effects without a legal permit. Furthermore, you entered a highly dangerous and closed-off area in Liyue, witnessed a highly confidential location, and put the lives of several miners in danger.” 

You felt some measure of indignancy swell within you. “Hey come on! It’s not my fault I spawned a Deep Dark biome. My staff was broken and I needed components to fix it. When I heard of a mine just west of Liyue, I didn’t realize it was closed off. Furthermore, my staff…went haywire because of some weird energy down there that infected it which ended up creating that biome.” 

“There were a couple Millileth stationed there. Was it not obvious?” Blue stated coldly.

“Of-of course, but I was worried about the consequences if I didn’t fix my staff,” you sigh inwardly. You lick your lips. “And I didn’t know those miners were there. Also, if they ran into a strange new area without any common sense, then that’s on them not me.” 

“So you admit to being in the Chasm, but you do not deny that you were selling contraband?” Antlers recounted in a controlled voice.

“I didn’t know how things operated in Liyue! I keep telling you that I’m not from here!” You were starting to feel a headache coming on, and the conversation hadn’t lasted five minutes!  “Besides, I only sold to those who were desperate AND rich enough to buy my wares. Also, I only gave some potions of instant healing to those who brought their sick family members; I would never give potions that could harm anyone, I’m not a bad guy!”

Antlers opened her mouth, but a noise beside her made her pause. 

Blue hummed. “Your staff. It is most peculiar. I’ve never seen Thaumaturgy like this before. Spill. Who are you, truly? Being some ordinary person with the creator’s face is one thing, but having access to dangerous magic as this is another.”

“If I told you, would you let me go?” You asked hotly.

“Depends on a number of factors like if this correlates to Abyssal magic, but in reality you’ll probably get a lighter sentence like a lifetime sentence in jail. It’s a much better alternative than getting executed, if you like enclosed spaces that is.”

“Wow. That’s so generous of you. Let me think about-no,” you said flatly. There was no telling what Minecraft logic would do here when something as basic as the elements were used for practical use.

“Hm. A shame. It appears we’re gonna have to execute you after all.” You feel hands behind you grip your shoulders. You try to throw Ponytail off, but blue glowing ropes suddenly spawned and wrapped your legs and arms. 

This…couldn’t be it! You had a home to get back to, a cat to pet and feed! So many projects would be unrealized if you died here!

“Hold.” A new voice spoke up. It took you a second to realize it was the figure on the throne. They snapped their fingers and pointed at Blue, then at you. Blue nodded and the bracelet on her right glowed; the ropes on your body disappeared and Ponytail released her grip on you. 

The creator stepped down from their throne towards you. You try to back away, but Ponytail puts a hand on your shoulder and you pause; you do your best not to tremble at how this all-powerful being was looking at you despite not seeing their eyes.

“Look at me.” They say commandingly in an ethereal and firm tone. You do. And in genuine awe. The power this being was radiating was so immense that it was almost suffocating. You felt as if you were an ant, and the more you scrutinized this person, the more you slowly realized your place.

Wait a minute, something’s not right. you think to yourself. You leaned forward so that you could see under his hood somewhat better. You could make out some of their features, and if you squinted you could’ve sworn they looked familiar. Huh, is it me or does this person look like me…! Oh. No way. 

You suppress a growing sense of unease building up in your stomach. Your eyebrows comically raise themselves, and to your amusement so do the creator’s.

‘What the heck?’ you both mouth simultaneously. Whether through interest or impulse, the creator stepped down from their throne and stood in front of you. You stood straight. Slowly, the creator reached for their hood; it fell from their head. A chorus of gasps filled the room with one of them being your own. Nobody dared to breathe, fearful that it could break the moment.

Staring back at you was your own face, even down to the jawline. You open your mouth.

“What the fuck?”

///

After much discussion that took all day, it was declared by the creator that you would be staying with them under house arrest; you would be supervised by some handpicked acolytes all day. At night, the creator themself would look after you. Luckily, the idea seemed to satisfy the acolytes and no more questions about you were thrown; time would tell if this new protocol needed more polishing.

It was night, and currently, you were sitting in the garden watching a swarm of crystalflies float about. They were pretty to look at already, but they glowed so mesmerizingly at night. You took a deep breath and sighed peacefully.

Then, you felt a presence beside you. You turned your head. It was the creator- you They had their hood off; their hair was long, jet black, and tied in a ponytail. They possessed dark purple eyes with slit pupils; tiny white dots danced in their iris like twinkling stars. Two strands of hair rested on either side of their shoulders. They rested their hands in their lap.                                                                                                                              

“Hey, you got room for one more?” You simply shrug, uncaring for another presence, but happy that you had company. After another pause, they spoke again. “You…good?”

“Oh yeah, I avoided being thrown into a dark cell and left to rot. Or worse. I’m actually grateful we came up with that story about me being your sibling,” you told him. 

“Of course! I’m not so arrogant as to believe that I’m the only version in this multiverse to exist. There have to be others like me out there, and those who weren’t so lucky to be gifted godlike powers the moment they teleported here.” Creator!You looked at you with sudden curiosity. “How did you get here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah, that. Well, you see I was trying to build a portal to the Aether-wait, do you know what Minecraft is?” When they nod you snapped your fingers. “I kept experimenting with different blocks using my command block until I got one working. And being the genius that I was, I decided to test it out myself. I didn’t realize it was a one-way trip until the portal behind me immediately closed. The rest is history.”

“I see…it must be terrifying being in an unknown world having to learn how things work.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. The slimes are so different from back home. I miss how square everything used to be.” 

“Er, apologies for bringing down the mood. That was not my intention.” You wave them off understandingly. They clear their throat, eager to change the subject. “Anyway, have you been keeping up with the news from the multiverse?”

You shake your head. “No. I mean, I didn’t know one could do that.”

“I have my ways of checking, and I encourage you to read up. Knowledge is power after all. I can show you some tomorrow.” They smile and cross their arms. However, it quickly turned upside down. “Apparently, someone went and stole multiple universes from this multiverse.”

“...You mean, someone stole multiple different versions of Teyvat…?” Creator!You nodded. That’s unbelievable! Did you happen to catch how many they took?”

“If I recall correctly, it was exactly 168. Luckily, after a while, they were all put back in their places.”

“Is that number significant?” They shrug before dropping the subject entirely.

The conversation pauses for a moment as the two of you find something else to discuss.

Creator!You huffed. “By the way, what…what should I call you? Because it’s going to be confusing if someone calls for one of us when we’re in the same room. Plus, the ancient manuscripts already refer to ME when it uses our name.” 

You laugh excitedly. “Aw man, I was waiting for this moment! I’ve always wanted to change my name to Yu, like Y-U.”

“That sounds adequate, but you’re gonna need a surname too,” said Creator!You. “What about…Nakayama?”

“Nakayama Yu…it has a nice ring to it. I like it! Alright, I’m gonna use that!”

They made an approving noise. “I’m pleased you like it so much. So…you wanna shake hands to, I don’t know, make it official?”

“Sure!” You stuck out an open hand. “I’m Nakayama Yu. It’s a pleasure to meet you, me!”

“Likewise!” They took it and you both shook firmly. You give a breathy chuckle.

It was nighttime, but the air wasn’t cold. You instinctively rubbed at your wrists, as if double-checking there weren’t any cuffs. You chatted away with yourself until you felt sleepy; you went to your guest room, immediately flopped on the bed, and started snoring.

#sagau #genshin self aware #yelan sagau #genshin imagines #yanfei sagau #self aware genshin #jean sagau #genshin fanfic

[snzhrchy]

Hello!

Can I request a dr. Stone hyuga x reader. Like she's pretty shy at first so no one takes notice of her, but secretly she's a closet perv who drools about hyuuga's muscles. He takes notice and starts to get interested in her. Sorry if this is weirdly said, It's my first time requesting something! Thank you for ur time and I love your writing.

shameful.

hyoga akatsuki x perv!reader

synopsis; you find yourself attracted towards the man who tried to kill you and that causes him to be intrigued by you too. taglist; lmk if u wanna be on it <3 warnings; smut (implied at the end) + masturbation notes; loved writing this !! im so down horrendous for this man like i need him to ruin me..

— your first meeting with hyoga was very... interesting, to say the least. in short, he burned down your village without any mercy. however, he did get his punishment in the end as he was now a prisoner in the kingdom of science--being forced to spend his days behind bars for the heinous crimes he had committed.

— that's also when you had the misfortune of meeting him. senku wasn't an evil man--far from it so because of that, he wanted to make ishigami village's prisons a little but more habitable and he chose you for the job! it wasn't exactly a job as you were merely just providing food to him and the other prisoner but...

— during this task was when you first met and got to see him, properly. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t attracted to him from the moment you laid your eyes upon him. he was, quite literally, the most attractive man you had ever seen. sure, you had your fair share of muscular men from all over japan however, there was something about hyoga that drew you towards him.

— which was probably why you were so very enthusiastic about this job you’d been assigned. since you hardly ever spoke to anyone, no one ever guessed that you had done the unthinkable and managed to become infatuated with hyoga--the man who was responsible for destroying your entire village but he wasn’t that dangerous now, though.

— however, you hardly ever interacted with him, whether it was on the perseus or back at the village; he barely paid any attention to you while you were head over heels for him. you did not attempt initiate any conversation with him either--you'd rather just admire him from a far. it was hard not to with the way he carried himself. no matter how strenous of a task you were performing, if he were in that room, that task would be long forgotten as your eyes would be fixated on him.

— your eyes would travel to his silver, silky hair, imagining what it'd be like to run your hand through them (and pull on them) then they'd traavel to his chest and your eyes would admire his perfectly built body and how well his abs adorned his abdomen and then his thighs and...

— hyoga wasn't stupid--far from it; he was quite literally one of the most intelligent and observant people ever. and unlike everyone, he noticed. he noticed how your eyes would always stare at his figure. even though you tried to be subtle, he was very aware of the effect he had on you. he found it amusing and peculiar as well; how could someone who he tried to murder possibly like him…? sure, he was used to attention from the opposite sex but he hadn’t gotten any after his depetrification—and he surely didn’t get any attention from villagers here.

— this intrigued hyoga. he found this entire thing amusing and liked receiving this type of attention. to know that he had someone—an ishigami villager at that—wrapped around his finger made him joyous. he could surely use this to his favour.

— and he did! once aboard the perseus; on one faithful night, he was just taking a mere stroll across the ship, admiring the changed landscape when he heard you whispering his name.

— he found it odd but as he got closer to the source of the sound, he realised that you were touching yourself while thinking of him. hyoga was aware that you were terribly infatuated with him but this pleased him (and certainly gave him an ego boost.) to think that someone was touching themselves while thinking of him… yes, it was certainly pleasant.

— no matter how much hyoga tried to control himself, he couldn’t help but get hard over listening to you mumble his name over and over again. he wondered what you’d look like if you were under him.

— eventually, that night, hyoga allowed his emotions to take over and he ended up finally fulfilling your desires.

— let’s just say it didn’t end there and hyoga ended up using you as his personal stress reliever from there on out.

#dr stone imagines #dr stone x reader #dr stone hyoga #dr stone #dcst x reader #dcst imagines #dcst #hyoga akatsuki #hyoga #hyoga akatsuki x reader #hyoga akatsuki imagines #akatsuki hyoga #hyoga x reader #hyoga imagines