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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Well Directed.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commisioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Arlecchino x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Biting/Blood, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Dehumanization.

Arlecchino greeted you the way she always did – through touch.

Despite everything, you had to admit Arlecchino’s ability to dampen her footsteps, to muffle her breathing, to somehow disguise the weight of her state and heat of her unnaturally warm body and the very fact of her own existence was undeniably impressive – even more so when she managed to hide herself from someone like you, someone so preoccupied with knowing the exact position of every actor as soon as they stepped onto your stage. Your first hint that she was coming to see you was the feeling of her talons on the dip of your shoulder, drifting upward to the curve of your neck, then the sight of her reflection in the mirror of your vanity, appearing as if she’d always been there, as if your eyes hadn’t been fixed to the door of your dressing room since locked yourself behind it, content to spend your intermission in peaceful seclusion. You’d planned to use what little free time you had to clear your head and prepare yourself properly for the rest of the night, but as always, she was there to make sure your mind would be filled with only thoughts of her. If Arlecchino had it her way, there was a good chance you’d never be able to think about anything else.

When you tried to stand, crumbling under the reflex to put any amount of distance between you and her, Arlecchino’s hand rose to your throat, catching you just under the chin and burying her claws in each corner of your jaw. Immediately, you went still, and she rewarded you with an airy chuckle, a tilted head. “Good puppet,” she praised, loosening her hold on you with the assurance that you’d learned your lesson quickly. “You were brilliant out there. Truly, the rest of the production is paler for having to stand in comparison to you.”

You wished you could’ve preened, could’ve basked her praise the same way you did when one of your performances caught the eye of a particularly flattering columnist, when you overheard one of your costars gushing about how proud they were to be working with someone of your renowned. Instead, all her words – no matter how kind, no matter how adoring – ever seemed to do was send a chill down your spine, to make you regret ever auditioning in the first place. Could her praise be considered sincere, if you knew she wouldn’t remember a single line you delivered a few minutes after the curtains closed? Could you take her compliments as anything but blatant condescension, if you knew the only reason she’d sat through your performance at all was to admire her newest toy?

But, you couldn’t say that out loud, so you only bowed your head, settling onto the stool of your vanity as you attempted to find your voice. “It was only the first act,” you mumbled, eventually. “And my scenes were hardly anything noteworthy. My character doesn’t really find their footing until the climax.”

“I disagree. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She didn’t have to tell you that. You’d felt stare prying into you every time you were on stage, and if it hadn’t been for the blinding lights, you were sure you would’ve been able to see her in the dead-center of the first row, grinning wildly as she watched you put on a show she’d already attended half a dozen times since opening night. If she actually bothered to pay attention, you were sure she would have the script memorized, by now. “Although, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t wearing my last gift. What if I lost track of you up there, dear?”

Her last ‘gift’. Your heart skipped a beat at the reminder. It’d been a gaudy thing – a rose-shaped breastpin, crafted with tens of hundreds of pinprick rubies and lined with a frame of pure obsidian. She’d let one of her masked soldiers make the delivery, but her note had been clear enough. You were supposed to wear the awful thing during your next performance, in front of a crowd of hundreds. You’d crushed it under your heel before your anger could turn into mortification. The dread had only taken root as you cleaned up the broken pieces and began to imagine how Arlecchino might react to your ungratefulness. She could weather most things, but such blatant disobedient had never gotten you more than a bruised cheek, rope-burnt wrists, and a few days spent in the guestroom of her manor.

“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried, but the costuming department overruled me.” You let your eyes fall to the ground, playing sheepish. As if you were genuinely apologetic. As if any part of you regretted not being able to wear her claim on you in front of half the population of Fontaine. “You know how it is. Everything has to be approved by the director, lest a misplaced prop lead the audience to the wrong conclusion.”

She hummed, letting her hand fall to the low collar of your top. It was far from the most risqué costume you’d ever worn, but the plunging neckline suddenly left you feeling more exposed than you would’ve liked. “Give me a name.”

You stiffened. “…excuse me?”

“Who made the call? Give me a name and I’ll take care of the rest.” Her pitch-black claws ran over your collarbone, playing with the idea of breaking the skin. You already knew that the ghost of her drifting affection would linger for seconds, minutes, hours after she was gone, when you were left alone with her voice still ringing in your ears. It was more than likely that you’d spend the second act performing under the careful supervision of her phantom touch. “If it’s the director, don’t bite your tongue. The show can go on without that bumbling idiot.”

“No, I—” The threat was clear, direct. She’d made similar promises before – when the man behind the counter of her preferred bakery called you by your name as you hung from her arm, when one of her subordinates seemed just a little too excited to attend one of your shows. In her ideal world, you’d be little more than a ballerina twirling in one of her music boxes; there to smile and dance when she desired to see you and locked away from prying eyes when she did not. You’d do nothing but giggle and laugh and bend to her whims, too happy in her gilded cage to ever throw yourself at the bars. “I’m sorry,” you said, again, and this time you tried to mean it. “I… I lied to you, earlier. I damaged it this morning while trying to put it on, and—” A pause, a laugh. “Archons, I’m so embarrassed. I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you know I was so thoughtless with one of your presents.”

It was far from your best work. Your speech was too stilted, your tone too dire for the occasion, your body language too stiff to convey much of anything beyond the simple hope that she would believe you. You would’ve been mortified to let anything so visibly improvised make it in front of a real audience, but Arlecchino was far from a critic. Her grin – as unwavering as it was monstrous – softened, her sadism partially sated by your complete, unabashed submission. Her hand fell away from you completely, and you beamed, letting your heart soar at the thought that she’d finally found some scrap of empathy for you.

Of course, your elation was quickly punished. It always caught you off guard – just how fast she was, just how strong she was, just how much she enjoyed reminding you of exactly why she could afford to be so self-indulgent when it came to her ever-growing collection of pretty little things. One moment, you were smiling at her reflection, and the next, the mirror had been shattered into more pieces than you could ever be able to count, anything it might’ve once shown distorted beyond all recognition. An intricate web of hairline fractures stretched outward from the point where her fist connected with the glass, but she regarded the devastation with little more than a slight hum, a sleeve dragged over her bleeding knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to apologize.” The sound of her heels against tile, the feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist. “You know how I get when I’m upset.”

Upset. You could’ve laughed, if you hadn’t forgotten how to use your lungs. You could’ve cried, if you weren’t too scared to move. If your unresponsiveness bothered her, if she noticed you hadn’t blinked since she lashed out, your paralysis wasn’t deemed worthy of her concern. Instead, she only pulled you against her chest, letting her chin rest on the dip of your shoulder. “You’re special, you know. I don’t lose my temper for every little actor who thinks they can get away with being so…” Her claws skirted over your side, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of your costume. “Unappreciative. That’s a good word for it, isn’t it? You’ve always been the more eloquent one, between the two of us.”

Multiple temptations surfaced in you all at once. Part of you wanted to cry, to beg for her forgiveness, to promise you’d never be so selfish and so stupid again if she’d only let you go unharmed tonight. Another more rebellious faction screamed at you to run, to try in vain to hide yourself away from such an obvious predator, unwilling to acknowledge how many times you’d tried that before and how many times it hadn’t worked. And yet, neither impulse overwhelmed you, in the end. Arlecchino’s training took control and you left you speaking hollowly, the words finding your way to your tongue before your conscious mind could so much as realize that you’d opened your mouth. “Unappreciative, my lord. I’ve been unappreciative.” Then, leaning against her, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”

“Good little thing,” she said, by way of an answer. Her grin was the widest it’d ever been. “My perfect little puppet.”

This time, you were able to find a note of joy in her praise, to seek comfort in the fact that her faux-affection meant you wouldn’t be the next thing crushed under her rage. That happiness was only partially dampened by the weight of her lips against your shoulder, then drifting upward, latching onto the tender patch of flesh just below your jugular. Her teeth, like her fingertips, were sharpened to fine points, each able to pierce your skin with all the thought it would’ve taken her to swat a fly out of the air, to pluck a wildflower from its patch. You felt warm blood trickle past her lips and down your collarbone, let a low whimper slip past your grit teeth as she dug that much deeper, as she carelessly tore through everything she touched. When you shifted, attempting to relieve a fraction of the pressure on your throat, of the burning ache just underneath your skin, her hands clamped down around your hips, her hold on you tightening and dragging you that much closer to her chest, that much deeper into her embrace.

By the time she pulled away, there was a dark ring of bruising carved into the side of your neck, emphasized by the bright red stain of her lipstick against your skin, the trail of crimson dripping down your chest and pooling above your collarbone. You weren’t able to stop yourself, cursing as you scrambled for something on your vanity table that you could use to limit the damage, but Arlecchino stopped you, taking up either of your wrists and forcing your arms to your sides. “Trying to hurt my feelings again?” She ran her tongue up the side of your throat, adding a vulgar smear to the mess she’d made of you. “Leave it as it is – I want you wearing my mark for the rest of your performance. And, if someone tries to stop you, tell them I’m the only one you’ll be taking direction from, from now on.”

You were too stunned to respond, too mortified to blink. Somewhere in the distance, a stagehand called five minutes to curtain, and Arlecchino let out a breathy laugh. With no small amount of hesitancy, she detangled herself from you, making her way to the door of the dressing room, the space now too contaminated to be called your own.

As her fingertips grazed the knob, her glanced back to you, her eyes meeting yours in the shattered remains of your mirror. You could’ve sworn you could still see the faint tint of your blood on her teeth as the corner of her lips tugged upward and something buried deep, deep inside of you withered and died.

“I’ll be watching, dearest.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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physalian · 4 months

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Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall, or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”

#writing advice #character design #writing tips #writing resources #exposition #writing tools #writing a book

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themissinghand · 10 months

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Genshin Impact: Queen's Guard Dog [1]

Part 2!

Summary: In which you are Tsaritsa’s closest retainer and servant, the one who is at the Queen’s beck and call.

You are Brighella, the Queen’s Guard Dog.

Or, the Harbingers treat you a bit differently.

Pairing: Tartaglia, Arlecchino, Pantalone, Il Dottore x GN! Reader

Note: Okay. The Foutaine Trailer though? I simply had to write something for Harbingers.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

To Tartaglia, you are a mysterious shadow.

You weren’t a Harbinger, but your status makes you one, if not higher.

Like a shadow, you appear and disappear with an elegance that matches Her Majesty. But unlike Her Majesty, your heart has not frozen from the truth of the world.

As such, you would appear more human at times.

Which was why Tartaglia would dare to ever approach you when he first became a Harbinger, and actively seek you out whenever he could.

He wanted to fight against you, but he never had the opportunity.

Yet, who knew he would be the one approached by you.

“Brighella. It’s been a while.”

“Brighella, how have you been?” You smiled in response and nodded in acknowledgement.

“La Signora, Tartaglia. Her Majesty has bestowed me your mission.” Your voice was quite relaxed, almost sing-song as you pulled out a scroll.

In an instant, Tartaglia and Signora knelt on one knee and bowed their heads, your were Her Majesty’s proxy and your words should be treated as if they came from Her Majesty herself.

“Go to Liyue, and take Morax’s Gnosis.”

“We will obey your order!” They both chorused and stood up. You nod in approval before the scroll evaporates in midair.

“Good. That is all.” La Signora immediately left without looking back at all. Typical.

“Brighella.” Tartaglia called out, making the Guard Dog perk up.

“Care for a spar? Help me warm up before I fight Morax.” He proposed, watching you with his challenging eyes.

Slowly, a dangerous smirk rose to your face, making him excited too.

But to his disappointment, you quickly returned to your composure.

“Perhaps when you rise in rank, dear youngest.” You reached out with one hand and ruffled his hair.

Tartaglia widens his eyes in surprise, but he takes full advantage of it by leaning forward and enjoying the attention from such a high entity like yourself.

“Then, I look forward to your success.” Before you left, he had grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

“Of course, Your Highness.”

To Arlecchino, you are a deceptive actor.

You are a shapeshifter, one that could be adapted to whatever the needs of the scenario might be, to any circumstance or play.

The world is your stage, and with each performance, you unveil a new face, assuming countless aliases to deceive those around you. You don’t discriminate in who you fool, so long as it brings joy to you.

But Arlecchino could see through your intricate web of deception, and easily pinpoint you in the crowd. While others may fall prey to your cruel manipulations, she remains untangled, resistant to your deceptive allure.

“Brighella, stop with your disgusting act.” She says with her stoic expression, but you know she’s hiding her amusement.

“Then why do you clap? Dear Arlecchino?”

In a world of illusions and falsehoods, Arlecchino is the one who understands the craft of acting, the art of transformation.

“Ha. Don’t get ahead of yourself Brighella, Your act is nothing more than a distraction, all that’s left for you is pity for your worthless act.” She approaches in strides, easily reaching you in a matter of seconds.

She raises your chin with a finger and stares into your eyes.

It’s dangerous but thrilling. This game you two play.

“Cut the crap, tell me what you’re here for.” Authoritarian as always, some things never change.

You responded to her move with your own, bringing a strand of her hair to your lips.

(Who will fall first?)

“It’s showtime my dear Knave. Her Majesty expects a good show.” Both pulled away with their masks thrown aside. Arlecchino bowed deeply.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

To Pantalone, you are an unsatiated dog.

Money slips through your fingers effortlessly, as if you give it little thought. Perhaps this lavishness is merely a facade, a clever act to hide your true cunning nature.

Pantalone, however, sees the duality within you. He witnesses your unwavering devotion towards Tsaritsa, but beneath that surface, he also sees your selfish motives, your relentless pursuit of personal gain at the cost of others.

You are shrewd as you are “kind”. You are greedy, just as you are “generous”.

But Pantalone can’t say such things about you, when he’s the same, or when he’s fully enjoying the benefits of your “generosity”.

“Brighella, to what do I owe the pleasure of the Queen’s Guard dog?”

“Oh dear Pantalone, it’s that time of the year again.” Though you had your usual smile on your lips, you stood upright and expectant.

The yearly report requires a thorough checkup of all Harbingers’s work, accomplishments and progress since the previous year. This will then be reported to Her Majesty for her discretion.

“Of course, let me show you around.” Pantalone offered a hand, which you took graciously as he led you around the Central Bank of Snezhnaya, reporting every single thing that needed to be heard.

As always, he expected your arrival and your purpose, and had always prepared ahead to ensure nothing but perfection and luxury reached your eyes.

After all, your eyes are Her Majesty’s eyes. What you see is what She will see.

So why do such pests have to exist and make a mistake in front of your presence?

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness! Please spare me!” A little rat dare spill wine on you?

Before you said anything, Pantalone covered your eyes with his gloved hands. A quick shuffle of feet and a muffled cry before it slowly faded into nothing but silence. When Pantalone uncovered your eyes, the employee was out of your sight.

“Your Highness, please come this way. I will get you a change of clothes immediately.”

“Be sure to ‘take care’ of the little servant. After all, it was just one mistake.” You advised, when suddenly a few employees rushed forward to take care of you.

Pantalone didn’t need to be told twice, it was what he intended after all. With a subtle bow and a glint in his eyes, he responded with the utmost courtesy.

“Your Highness, I promise you will never see that servant again.”

To Il Dottore, you are an ancient antique, a relic from a bygone era. An ageless monster as rumours would say, as time seems to be nothing to you.

Throughout the years, Il Dottore has seen you in action.

Where you are a masterful liar, and an inveterate schemer. If a plan fails, you have a magnificent ability to weave the situation in your favour and make it the fault of others. But such an occasion is a rarity, where Dottore had only seen once in his life.

After all, you are meticulous and calculating underneath your charming facade.

From a sinner to an innocent, Dottore marveled at how you manipulated the scene at a moment’s notice.

But that was not what caught his attention.

It was your seemingly timeless existence that has remained unfazed for a long long time by Her Majesty’s side. Your existence has never been confirmed and he had always wanted to be the first to discover.

To him, you are an enigma, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

So when you arrived in his lab to congratulate him on achieving a higher rank, he was thoroughly pleased.

“To think Your Highness would be personally here to congratulate me and deliver me such good news from Her Majesty, I am honoured.” Dottore grins as he bows before you.

“You have shown your skills worthy of Her Majesty’s praise, as such, you may ask for a reward.”

“Oh, any reward? Is this from yourself, Your Highness?” A sly smile rose to his lips.

When Brighella nodded, Dottore immediately extended a hand.

“I would like a sample of your blood, Your Highness.”

“Oh?” You had a knowing and sly expression on your face.

“Yes, that is all I need.” A beat of silence, before you placed your hand in his.

“Then, I will fulfill your curiosity.” Dottore had never been happier.

With your approval, he obtained your blood sample without any problems and immediately began formulating experiments in his head.

Not before gently placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your elbow, where your blood was taken out.

“Your Highness, I promise to bring you results.”

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tnt-kokoo · 1 month

Text

My showgirl

pairing: Rin Itoshi × fem!reader

summary: You're a theater girl in the late 1800's. In that time you got quite famous and young girls started seeing you as their 'role model' as for guys started to fell inlove with you. Your charms manage to gather the attention from the one and only Rin Itoshi.

warnings: non I think

Walking into the theater, he saw lots of people in their expensive growns. Rin himself even dressed nice. But that's that's to expect if you wnat to visit the theater and even more if you wnat to go to a show with the new upcoming star, Y/n L/n.

Just hearing the name slip through the lips of people made others fall for you but seeing you live was something so different. It felt like the most loving memory someone could have. Imagining you being with them and embracing the viewers into a seductive warmth.

But the dark haired boy told himself that people were making a way too big drama about it and just let their 'inner poet' out. It made the boy gag and look at them with disgust filling his face.

Now paying for the entry ticket, his family, which includes himself as well as his parenst and even his brother, walked towards their seats on the upper rows. From there it might be a bit harder to see or hear the performance but atleast it wasn't as bad as having to fight to get a good look at you like in the lower rows.

The lights dimmed as the big red curtains opened slowly. The lights started to shine in the middle of the stage and that's where you stood.

Seeing you made Rins heart clench as his eyes widened and looked at your beauty. Your whole persona looked like the beauty of the first snow fall of the year, the way it was so cold, yet so welcoming and lovable.

Watching the show continue, he realized people weren't lying and you were, infact the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

After the show you and your colleagues all held eachothers hand and bow down to the crowd watching. With a big and loud applause the curtains began closing as Rin hoped they would stay open a bit longer so he could look at you again. Yet, to his luck they weren't going to open again just for him.

As others, as well as the Itoshi family begann leaving, Rin couldn't help but stay in his seat a bit longer, dreaming of you.

"What are you waiting for, Rin?" The cold voice effects his brother woke him up momentarily and he stood up to follow. Outside in the big hall of the theater, the crowd of the rich families were talking with eachother in the finest dresses caressing the grounds. The laughter made the atmosphere more comfortable, but Rin wasn't attentive. He only wanted to see you one last time.

Somehow, his wish was heard as the actors of the play (you included) walked out with different clothes. You looked eternal to the point that even the whitest of snow couldn't beat your bright aura. The young boy couldn't help but be amazed when he heard your giggle. So he started to walk towards you without thinking for once, no one seemed to notice him except for his brother who noticed the way his face softened when he saw you.

So standing infront of you, you looked in his way, waiting for him to say why he came.

....

"Can.. Can I help you?" you said in an unsure voice while laughing in a nervous manner. But who wouldn't be nervous if a tall guy just came and stared at you without saying anything?

Acknowledging what he did, he started by apologizing, followed with a "I saw your show, it was good- you were good." He said with his ears now bright red.

"Thank you...," you said as ypu looked around "want to follow me to a more quiet place?" you asked.

Smiling you held out your hand to him and when he put his hand in your soft ones, he knew he was damned for.

____________________________________________

ᯓᝰ: I have ao many drafts but I find no motivation and I gotta study French for my final exams 😭🙏

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x y/n #itoshi rin x y/n

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jamneuromain · 1 month

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ari + chest hair + purring like a cat

Thank you dear Hoe Fairy<3

Damn! Ari with his chest hair... a hell of a combination that I can't resist

I present to you:

Lazy Morning

Warning: Dub-con (since they are married); Actor!Ari Levinson, somno, oral (mentioned just a little), fingering, p in v, fluff and smut.

W/C: ~1.5K

A/N: ...shit I totally forgot about the chest hair part

A Work in Progress Masterlist

"And the Oscar goes to -" The host paused dramatically, before opening the envelop in his hand and pulling out the sheet of paper that contained the name of the winner for tonight.

"-Ari Levinson, from The Feud!"

The first action, out of sheer surprise, was to look into your soft eyes. Ari saw you gasp and cover your mouth in shock, when your eyes dampened in happiness.

He headed to the stage after kissing and hugging you, shaking hands along the way.

"... I want to thank the director Frank Adler, and our team for making The Feud to happen." He choked on his words, on your name, tears rolled heavy beneath his eyelids, "And to my beautiful wife. You mean the world to me. I love you."

...

Your wet mouth engulfed him inch by inch. Words were a slur of moaning coming out of his lips.

"F-Fuck, honey-"

His cock reached the back of your throat. So soft. So warm.

"Feels good, baby?" You whispered in your sultry voice, "Come down my throat. I want to taste you..."

His hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you down on his cock. Pushing you down until he was fully seated in your mouth. Until he was on the verge of exploding-.

The sun peeked through the window and the slim creek of the curtains, landing on his skin.

Among the soft incessant buzz of his phone, the faintest of stirring of you in his arms, and the sun, he woke up from slumber.

It took him a moment to recall his memories from last night. Last night was a combination of alcohol, chatting up, and tiring ceremonies.

Right. Ceremony. The Oscar.

Ari scratched his bearded chin. He might have a little problem distinguishing reality from his dream.

The ceremony and the speech, that he remembered. But the fact that you were fully clothed in pyjamas reminded him that the blurry vision he just had - the one where you took him in your mouth - was a dream.

He sighed softly into the back of your neck. The afterparty lasted until three in the morning, and both of you had been too tired to do anything besides getting ready for bed in the early hours. Which led to the fact that he was hard as fuck, and there was nothing he could do about it while you were still sleeping.

You were practically glowing in your sleep, which could be the sun kissing your skin, but still, glowing, peaceful, and he could not believe his luck, marrying you and spending the rest of his life with you.

... on second thought, maybe there was something he could do about it while you were sleeping.

Ari shamelessly slipped his hand beneath your sleeping shorts, prying it down in slow motion, until it was pulled to your knees. His fingers danced around your entrance, carefully rubbing your pussy lips and capturing your clit between his fingers.

You let out a small whine in your sleep, your back pressed to his front a little tighter.

Slick began to gather at his fingertips as he continued his motion of rubbing circles at your most sensitive parts. Ari couldn't help himself but murmur by your ears. He knew you couldn't hear in your dreams, but that didn't stop him from whispering, "So wet for me, honey. I bet you want this as much as I do, yeah?"

As if you could hear him, your walls convulsed and your thighs tightened, before your knee moved higher up on the bed, as if you were granting him access in your sleep.

"Honey..." He murmured, his gaze unwavering, landing on your slick-coated pussy, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're awake and wanting. Such a pretty invitation for me, won't you say?"

He pumped his shaft with the slick on his fingers. The tip slowly sunk itself into your velvety walls, as he grunted due to the tightness.

"Fuck, honey, fuck." Ari panted into your neck. His lips pressed into your soft and smooth skin, trailing his kiss to the point where your neck met your shoulder.

You mewled, clawing his arm that circled your waist, moaning in your sleep: "Ari..."

"Yes, honey, I'm right - umph - here." Ari pushed himself all the way in, his legs wedged between your knees, forcing them to open wide as he bottomed out.

"Ari...?" Your eyelashes batted before blinking your eyes open. Half of your consciousness still drowning in the peaceful sleep you had, and the other half bathing in the wet dream - the wet reality where you woke up with the twisted coil of desire burning in your guts.

The thought of your husband taking you in your sleep only added fuel to the fire. You can feel your pussy clenched down hard on his thick cock when his slow but hard thrust hurt your cervix in the most delicious way possible.

A throaty moan was pushed out of your lips when another thrust rearranged your insides. Your hand clung to the iron clad he had to your waist, preventing yourself from slamming into the headboard.

"Love you so much, honey," He groaned loudly as your body responded to him by moving along the rhythm he set. The filthy squelch as your dripping pussy took all of him in hungrily, pounding the life out of you.

You chanted his name like a prayer when he had you come on his cock, when his cum pumped into you, coating your walls with his spend.

Catching your breath and your mind gradually, your fingers intertwined with his, before turning your head and looking his way: "For a second, I thought it was my birthday."

Ari huffed out a laugh. His beard scratched your jaw as he kissed every inch of your skin he could reach. With the morning sex as a wake-up call, he sure could turn this into a habit for your mutual celebrations. A small smile crept up his lips as he spoke, "I think we have some left-over pie in the fridge, 'course we could make it your birthday."

His phone buzzed again, making him curse under his breath.

"Take it." You teased him softly, tapping your knuckle on his chest, "Otherwise the headline tomorrow would be The Disappearance of Oscar-winner Ari Levinson."

Ari reached his long arm to grab his phone. Scamming through the messages and phone calls, he picked a few to answer briefly before tossing his phone aside, burying his face into your neck, and inhaling deeply.

In a few hours, he would have an interview with Variety, and later iMDb. After that, he would be shipped off to Norway via airplane for his new movie which still needed a few weeks in a god-forsaken forest. While you too had your work later tonight, he couldn't help but ask, "Can you stay with me before I go?"

"Sure." You combed through his hair with your fingers. He grew his hair and beard for his new caveman movie in Norway, and now he was fuzzy all over. Sometimes you wonder whether you have a man for your husband, or that he is merely a werebear that loves to pin you under with his weight, "how much time do we have before you go?"

"My flight takes off at 4:45pm." He grumbled into your neck, "Four, five hours...? When are you needed for work?"

You turned to look at him, "Five-ish."

"Good." His hand splayed possessively over your stomach, "That means we can spend some more time on..." He squeezed your tummy suggestively, "celebration."

You could practically imagine him wiggling his eyebrows as he said so. Chuckling, you placed his hands where they needed to be - your spine, "Celebration should wait," you laid comfortably on your stomach, "someone isn't getting any celebration until they fix my waist - bending me around and all that."

Ari sighed in defeat and started working on the stiff muscles on your back - the fact that he did bend your legs in your sleeping form left him speechless and somewhat embarrassed for springing out on you.

With his magical hands doing their best, it was not long until you started humming in content, and his dick twitched in excitement.

His hands began to descend lower and lower, closer to your ass every time he massaged your back.

"You know, I think the massage would perform one hundred percent if you take your sleeping shirt off." His hand glided dangerously close to your core, before shifting his position and muttering by your ear.

"God, you're awful." A breathy groan left your lips as the knots on your back untwined.

"Too bad, you're not going anywhere," Ari lowered himself to kiss your bare back - this smooth bastard had just flipped your sleeping shirt upwards to grant himself better access, "Mrs. Levinson."

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fluff #Actor!Ari Levinson #Entertainment AU #the red sea diving resort #ari levinson smut #ari levinson

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fictional-magic · 1 month

Text

by the glue,

coquette!singer!reader x actor!sirius black

summary: after a long parting, he's finally stuck to you after a year.

you stand on the stage, adrenaline rushing, but not too much because it's habitual to you now. you're still happy about how many people stand and singalong to your feelings poured out as songs. you decided to wear a long white skirt with mid-ruffles, and a bubblegum pink top which had the name of your latest album (the one you will be singing in a few minutes) with bold dark pink letters. you have satin pink ribbons braided in your hair, tied like small bows near the ends of your hair.

your mic goes on and you start talking first, the princess-y smile comes naturally with your playful conversations with the fans. the first track is a sweet one, with light flirting and about being attached to someone like glue in love. you sit on the edge of the stage for this one, dangling your legs and occasionally pointing your mic at the fans who probably know the lyrics better than you.

don't forget to kiss me, or else you'll have to miss me i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue, aren't you?'

words flow out like sweetness from you, pouring until you're painted in smiles and rainbows. as you sing, you remember him. the one you wrote this song about. you both were practically inseparable in uni, and the high school sweethearts too. it feels wrong to reminisce like you're 50 when it's really only been two years since college, but it feels like a really long time since then. it's not a good feeling to have to be mature and all grown up suddenly. and he helped you through that transition.

you remember and miss a very very handsome, beautiful, cute, and every-word-under-that-umbrella man. you haven't met him since a year, and it's neither of your fault. he's busy, and you're busy. you text almost 3 times a week, and call each other on the weekends, but seeing his face and being able to touch and feel him was a long-lost dream of yours.

if he were here, maybe your smile would be more realistic and happier, maybe your days would be brighter, and nights more sleep-providing. but he's not, so you toss and turn in your bed, and panic the next morning about what to wear.

he's almost never done with his shootings, and your recording sessions seem endless to the both of you. when he's doing interviews, you're at home. when you're doing concerts, he's at home. it's exhausting and almost impossible to find timings where the both of you are unoccupied.

no, silly, focus on singing!

you come back to the matearilistic worls and start genuinely thinking about the soft notes you hit while you're humming. your earpiece tickles your ear a bit just then, while you're walking on the stage like frolicking through a huge field with daisies and peonies around. your manager's voice pops in through the small device, "black's here. he's standing backstage!" and even your manager sounds excited to know you won't be so sad anymore. the song ends with a last hum, and with an apologetic voice, you murmur into the mic,

"i'm so sorry everyone, i have to leave for just a moment, i'll be back in a few minutes, i promise!" and you do manage to hear a few groans and chants of your name while you run backstage after keeping the mic on a random stand.

you shout, "sirius? are you here?" you're still quite unsure if you're manager's saying the truth. she has been known to play a few mean pranks every now and then. "sirius?" you say again, hope laced around your voice.

"hi!" he whispers as he warps his arms around you from behind in the dark, dimly lit backstage. you can still figure out from his clothes' feel, that he's wearing something leather.

"sirius!" your voice hold a giddyness, and you smile bright enough to light up the entire place for sirius. you hug him tightly as tears run down your face, happy or sad you aren't sure.

"missed you so much siri, you have no idea."

"hey, you should really go back onstage." he says, with a light kiss on your forehead.

"we'll catch up after a while yeah? fuck, wanted to see you so bad, doll." he kisses you on the lips now, and you wrap your hands around his neck instinctively as he reaches for your waist. it feels oh so wonderful to explore the lips and mouth of the man you've been thinking about for a whole year. and, just like that, you're stuck together lke glue again, rest of the world be damned.

#sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius black angst #sirius black x y/n #the marauders #mauraders #maurauders era #the marauders era #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black smut #sirius black imagine

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drewharrisonwriter · 9 months

Text

Is that alright?

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Singer Reader

Summary: You are a musical guest in The Graham Norton Show on an episode that also features your ex-boyfriend, Henry Cavill. You play your latest single that you've written when you were 18 and in love with Henry.

A/N: Implied previous relationship. I don't think there are any more warnings, except the delusional situation that I've concocted. LOL This is based on the song Is That Alright? by Lady Gaga from The Star Is Born movie.

Check out my fic masterlist.

As the stage lights dimmed, the audience of The Graham Norton Show erupted in applause, eagerly anticipating the next musical guest. The cameras panned to the artist nervously waiting in the wings. You took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight, gently sitting down on the chair and placing your hands on the ivory keys.

With grace and confidence, you began playing your latest single which took you nearly 10 years to release. A song you've written when you were so deeply in love with the love of your life, Henry Cavill.

As you began to sing, your voice resonated with a depth of emotion that captivated everyone in the room.

youtube

When the last note faded into silence, the applause was thunderous.

You took a gracious bow and went over to the red couch where the guests for the night were all on their feet, applauding as well and congratulating you on your heartfelt performance.

Henry, being a guest as well that night, caught your eye as he extended a hand to shake yours. You gave him a warm smile as you shook his hand.

"Y/N, that was absolutely stunning." Graham began when the greetings and applause were over. "This single is truly heartbreakingly beautiful. Tell us about it!" He asked enthusiastically.

You glanced at Graham, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. This was the question you were both expecting and dreading.

"Thank you, Graham." You began nervously.

It wasn't that it was your first ever TV guesting, but it is the first time you were sharing the screen with your now excessively famous ex, Henry Cavill. Talking about the song you wrote about your relationship with him nearly ten years ago is a bit embarrassing on your end.

"Yes, 'Is That Alright?' is a very personal song for me. I actually wrote it when I was 18 years old, so like almost ten years ago when I was deeply in love with someone who meant the world to me."

The audience watched intently, unaware of the connection between you and the other guest on the show, Henry Cavill. But Henry, caught off guard by your revelation, nearly choked on his Martini but tried to play it cool as he waited for you to continue.

"Ten years?!" Graham exclaimed a little exaggeratedly. "Why did it take you that long to release this gem?"

You laughed a little, hoping you looked cool and calm enough.

"The long answer or the short answer?" You joked and everyone laughed.

Even Henry was laughing, you were always funny, and he was amazed you were able to preserve your humor and wit despite the nerve-wracking fame you've garnered over the years.

"How long will the long answer take?" Graham quipped.

"However long it takes the crew to give me five shots of tequila." The studio erupted with laughter, Graham was laughing behind the cards in his hands.

"No, I'm sorry." You began, "Okay. So for real, this song holds immense significance to me, it’s a sort of love letter, you see… and these are the words I wanted to let the person I wrote it for know but I never had the chance to.”

You saw Henry bit his lower lip and look down on the drink in his hand.

"Why weren’t you able to give this ‘love letter’ to them?” One of the guests asked as you were drinking.

“He broke up with me.” You said shyly and laughter ensued once again.

“How old were you again when you wrote this?” One of the older guests on the couch asked, an actor, that you can’t remember the name of but looks an awful lot like Nearly Headless Nick from Harry Potter.

"Just 18. I was so young when I wrote it..."

"You were binge drinking at 18, you were not THAT young," Graham said in jest and everyone laughed once again.

You chuckled along with the audience, appreciating Graham's lightheartedness amidst the delicate subject. From your peripherals, you saw that Henry was looking in your direction, he was laughing, too.

The conversation flowed, everyone on the couch asked their question or complimented your latest single, except for Henry. Graham, noticing how awfully quiet he was, asked, “And Henry, how do you find Y/N’s latest single?”

You felt a lump form in your throat, you did your best to swallow your drink and as Graham asked Henry.

Henry chuckled, looking down at his drink a bit before looking at you and saying: “It’s beautiful.”

“Awfully unfeeling.” Graham quipped with a fake whisper and eye roll and laughter ensued once again.

You laughed at Graham’s remark, too and thanked Henry.

When the show ended, you made your way backstage to hurriedly gather your things when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned to find Henry standing at the door of your dressing room. “Hi…” He said softly. You said a quiet hello and asked him to come in.

“I’m so sorry, but…” He began as you zipped your bag. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

You straightened up and faced Henry, blinking fast trying to absorb what he just asked.

“Uh…just go back to the hotel and that’s it. Order room service, maybe.” You answered honestly, feeling your face turn warm in slight embarrassment for your lack of fun plans for the night.

He chuckled lightly, “May I interest you with a Pint?”

You might have stared at him a little too long before answering, because you saw him lightly cock his head to the side. “Uhm… sure.” You managed to say, finally.

“Perfect. Meet you outside in 10 minutes?” He said with a huge smile, and you only nodded in reply. You watched him walk out the dressing room, the smile never leaving his face.

You were a bit shocked.

It’s been nearly a decade since you’ve last seen or spoken to Henry. But the last few minutes… they didn’t feel like much time passed. You sat down and breathed, you can do this…

It’s just Henry.

TBC...

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x singer reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you

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a-random-weeb · 5 months

Note

Hii can I request yandere fyodor with a fem reader who’s a Broadway actor so almost every night he makes her sing for him so reader escapes only for him to show up in one of the readers musicals in the crowd while smirking at her

i know like nothing about Broadway. I know I'm 19, I know I'm supposed to be knowledgeable, but I never paid enough attention to this kind of stuff. I know basically what it is, I'm not 5 (That sounds so suspicious I promise I am above the age of 5, and am 100% a fellow Homo sapien just trust me) , just don't yell at me if I get a fact wrong or something, I tried my best 😭

Idk why I always get carried away with how dark I make Fyodor in my writing, so... enjoy whatever this is

Warnings: murder, stalking (ig), Yandere themes, r*pe mentions, forced cannibalism he's really ooc, idk what else

〰⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆✿₊ ⊹𖦹⋆〰

This is a bad idea. You know it's a bad idea. He could find you but... this is the first time you've felt happy in forever. The rush of adrenaline as you sing and dance across the stage, it's too good, too addicting. Plus, it's not like he's here... Right? There's no way! Don't be silly! You escaped 3 months ago, there's no way he could have found you! Well, actually, you are a big actor, you guess this was a really bad idea.

As you bow to close off your performance with the rest of your fellow actors, but the moment glance out at the crowd, your eyes widden in horror. Deep within the crowd, you spot him. How- why- huh? Your heart drops in your stomach and you feel like you could throw up at any moment. You don't know how you maintain the huge, now fake smile spread across your face as you take on final bow and exit the stage.

You attempt to exit the place unnoticed, keeping your hood up in case he is still in the area. You look around, taking note of all your surroundings. Well, apparently everything accept what's infront of you because you bumped right into a guy. Stumbling backwards, you pay no mind to your flimsy hood falling down as you stutter apologies. Your whole face fills with hate, shock, horror, anger, everything, as you stare up at the man before you.

"It's perfectly fine, Myshka." The dark haired man looks down at you with a cunning smile. You stumble backwards, but he pulls you in by your waist. "Try to run and I shoot you, ok?" He chuckles maniacally. You're whole body freezes, you desperately try to scream, move, tell him off, anything! But all that comes out is a quiet whimper. He gently lifts a cloth to your mouth and everything goes dark...

You groan, your head aching and your heart pounding as your eyes flutter open. You freeze as you realize you're in a place you think of as hell. Fyodors punishment room. Sometimes it's sexual, sometimes it's just torture. The sexual ones are better, sure, it's r*pe, and he's sadistic, doesn't let you come and cuts you. But his torture punishments are much, much worse.

He enters the room with the most shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Tears stream down your face as you notice that in his hands lays the head of your brother.

"Hey~ You ran away for a few months, and that really hurt mwy fweelings!" He mocks, "Now it's my turn for some revenge~ now sing those cute little songs you sang in broadway, and maybe I won't shove your brothers remains down your throat!"

You sing and sing for hours, even getting you to dance. Eventually, you start to lose your voice, and that's when his face darkens.

"It's only been 4 hours. How are you losing your voice?" He glares, and the room goes silent for a minute. His sigh breaks the quiet, as he shoves one of your brothers eye balls in your mouth. You feel disgusted as he makes you bite down, the texture disturbingly mushy and chewy. He shoves the other eye in your mouth as you cry, his eyes lighting up in sadistic glee.

"Next time, it'll be your sister. Then your father, then your mother. Oh, but don't worry, that'll only happen if you try to run again!" He chuckles in mock sympathy. "Now, you'll be eating the rest of him if you act up, now, why don't you go get some rest? You did great on Broadway, I'm sure you're tired!" He says like he didn't just make you a cannibale. You sit on the floor, still trying to process everything. You regret ever running away, and now you sit on the cold, hard floor belonging to the man you hate the most... Fyodor Dostoevsky.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x you #bsd fluff #BSD dark #Dark content #Tw Yandere #Yandere Fyodor #Yandere Fyodor x reader #BSD Fyodor #Bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fyodor #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader

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zedif-y · 8 months

Text

“So,” Joel says. “D’you think Tango would talk to me if I broke the bow again?”

Which, obviously, is a joke. Obviously. He’s a blummin’ actor, for goodness sake. He can handle an audience of one.

Even if that audience is Tango. And also– not quite an audience, is it, when you’re just two people having a conversation–

Grian pauses, looking up from where he's been checking Joel’s outfit, one hand tracing a seam. "Joel," He replies, deadpan. "You are not breaking another prop just ‘cuz you're bad at talking to people."

Joel bristles, oi! “I’m not bad at–!”

"Then talk to him like a normal person!" Grian retorts, rolling his eyes. He focuses his attention back on the costume, "Pretty sure he'll notice and chew you out for it anyway. I'm doing you a favor by telling you this, really." Joel scoffs.

He’s choosing not to reply to that, by the way. It’s a choice.

Joel lets Grian do his thing, double-checking his costume until Joel’s arms grow tired of staying up, pinning stuff into place and calling Cleo over for makeup stuff. Joel lets his mind drift, letting Grian lead him in front of a vanity mirror– Ah, look. His handsome face.

Joel studies his reflection for a moment, turning his head this way and that. And just before Grian leaves–

“…Would he really get mad?”

Grian pauses in the doorway, “Huh?” He frowns for a moment, squinting, then sighs. “Yes, Joel. You’re not that cute.”

“Oi!”

Grian lets the door shut with a click, his cackling muffled as he goes. That little…

Joel huffs, glowering at his reflection.

“Not that cute,” He grumbles. “I’m plenty cute. The cutest.”

Someone knocks on the door. Cleo pokes their head in, “Hey, Joel.”

“Hey,” He hasn’t stopped glaring at his reflection. “Don’t ask about Grian.”

Cleo lets herself in, “Wasn’t going to,” She says simply. “Now stop sulking and let me do your makeup.”

With great effort, (not really) Joel relaxes his face, his features smoothing out.

He looks good, is the thing. No matter what Grian has to say. Joel looks– good. Attractive. Drop-dead gor– whatever. The point is, he’s handsome, and he could woo whoever he wanted. Definitely.

(He thinks of Tango, gold-spun hair catching the stage lights, red eyes dark as wine.)

…Probably.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Ugh, he’s gonna be thinking about that all day, won’t he?

Stupid Grian.

—

(“Cleo,” Joel starts. “Am I hot?”

The brush on his face stops.

“The fuck?”)

—

He breaks the prop again.

In his defense, it was still mostly an accident. Mostly.

"How."

Joel squirms a little under Tango's gaze, hoo boy.

He holds up the broken prop bow, "Ehh, the uh. The thing is, I keep, like, using too much strength on it?" He grins, straightening his back. "You know, 'cuz I'm so strong and stuff. Happens uh, all the time, you know?” At Tango’s silence, he tacks on, “…It's annoying."

Tango raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Joel's grin goes lopsided, withering under the look.

"I– uh," He thins his lips, runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. "...Sorry?"

Tango’s tail sways a little behind him, His arms are crossed, just. Looking at him.

Okay, Joel thinks, palms starting to sweat. Maybe Grian was right.

“You realize I’m not even a props guy, right?” Tango asks. Joel swallows. “Official title’s set designer.”

Joel is so fucked.

“I knew that,” Joel manages, still clutching the damn prop. “Just– you helped me fix it last time.”

And the time before that. And, also, the time before that.

…Joel’s sweating up a damn storm over here.

Eventually, Tango sighs.

"C'mere, I've got something for ya."

Joel's eyebrows leap up. He follows Tango as he leads him deeper backstage, past costume racks and other stage tech-y stuff– none of which Joel can make heads or tails of.

His mind races with questions, half of his brain going why is he leading me all the way back here while the other half is really trying not to ogle at Tango’s–

"There it is," Tango says, jolting him out of his thoughts. He scoops up what looks like a small toolkit, holds it out to Joel. "Here, for the next time you manage to break that poor bow again."

Joel opens his mouth, closes it again. He just stands there, dumbfounded and cheeks burning with shame, "I don't know how to–"

"You've seen me do it like five times, haven't you?" Tango asks, teasing. Joel's going to die. "You're a big boy, you can do it."

What'd he just call me, "Right," Joel squeaks, "That's– Right. Yeah."

He reaches out to grab it–

But Tango pulls it back, his grin growing wider.

"Wha–?"

Tango tilts his head, "There are better ways to get my attention, you know."

Joel's heart leaps into his throat.

He’s so fucked–!

It must show on his face, too, because then Tango laughs and it would've been a win if it weren't at him– "I'm serious, man! You didn't have to do all that stuff– You thought I wouldn’t notice?"

Tango shakes his head, gives Joel the toolkit. He closes Joel’s hand around it with his own.

Joel's breath hitches in his throat– Tango’s touch burns but in a good way, like sunlight on skin, like–

"It's not like you needed help getting my attention, anyway."

If this were a movie, Joel thinks this is where he’d hear a record scratch.

Hold on. Rewind. What?

Tango looks surprised, “Did you really not know?”

“I–” Joel closes his mouth. He’s trying to form words, honest, Tango’s hand is just so warm– “Would you believe me if I said I knew?”

Tango laughs, (Again! Joel’s mind crows.) “It wouldn’t be your best performance, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Answer’s no, then,” Joel replies, strangled. A pause. “No as in, I didn’t know– oh gosh, I hope I’m reading this right–”

Tango’s hand falls away, amusement twinkling in his red eyes. Joel tries to remember how to breath.

Tango’s lips pull up into a smile, “You know, you’re way different off-stage.”

Ouch. “Sorry to disappoint,” Joel blurts out, a faint sting in his chest. Tango’s eyes go wide.

“That’s not what I meant!” His tail lashes in panic, “You’re– you’re a completely different person on-stage, you know? Which I get is the point, you’re amazing, just…”

Joel blinks. Is his brain melting out of his ears? It feels like his brain is melting out of his ears.

It echoes in his head, you’re amazing.

A faint red dusts Tango’s cheeks, “…I think I kind of prefer the real deal.”

“Oh,” Joel says, voice faint. Tango’s blush deepens.

“I just made this weird, didn’t I–”

Joel’s brain kicks into gear, finally, “D’you wanna go out some time?” He asks. His hands shake, just a little. “Cuz I think you’re bloody brilliant, Tango, so if you’re gonna be saying stuff like that,” He swallows. “You better at least let me take you out to coffee.”

Tango’s grin is blinding, “Only if you promise to stop breaking props.”

Joel laughs, a giddy rush in his chest.

“I promise.”

(At the back of his mind– Take that, Grian!)

—

Somehow, somewhere, Grian just sneezed.

#ryan's writing #joeltek #joel smallishbeans #tangotek #tango tek #trafficshipping #trafficship #trafficshipblr #trafficblr #mcyt #mcyt au #idk . another au be upon ye (probably not gonna continue this tho)#grian #hes an important character. trust #not tagging cleo bc theyre there for 2 seconds

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just-null-cult · 7 months

Text

i've always wanted to try out this trend! i didnt think i drew him that different. i was wrong. very wrong.

hes so baby girl in my style what the fuck. oh i know, i was just drawing what gege meant to draw. dw, i got his telepathic brainwaves 👍

[time lapse + my headcanons for Noritoshi's appearance under the cut]

some headcanons i have while drawing him are semi obvious while others are bc i like it ahehahhaheha

cupid's bow lips! this was semi inspired by Mizuki Umetsu, the actor for Noritoshi in the jjk stage play! hes so. pretty. perfect guy for the role imo! i was captivated therefore my views changed.

longer hair! the thought that his bangs(? are the same length, or longer, as the rest of his hair is nice.. it also makes his inevitable haircut much more refreshing! i also just like long hair and its a fucking waste not to do whatever the i want.

thicker brows and visible eyelashes! i naturally draw thicker eyebrows because it looks pretty, but the eyelashes is so fucking canon bro. dont even fight me on this, you'll lose. i read a fic about Noritoshi where it said he took good care of himself and his appearance inspired jealousy. that fucked me up man, so now i draw him as beautiful as i can.

monolids! I've looked through the manga and i think its highly implied that Noritoshi has monolids? yk those lines in between the eye and eyebrow, he doesnt have them in the manga. i thought it was because of the expressions he had, but no. the others have them, except geto! so geto also having monolids is so fr in my head. i like that feature abt him.

loose hairs! the hairs that i draw on his face. they make him look so cute and a bit more relaxed. he's not trying to be perfect nor have a single strand out of place. he's just a bit more at ease... though if there's something important he has to go through, he sharpens up. becomes.. stiffer?

I UNINTENTIONALLY MADE HIS CHEST LOOK A BIT BIGGER IN MY STYLE AND I WANT TO APOLOGIZE, BUT I'D BE A LIAR. DOES THIS COUNT AS A HEADCANON??? I JUST THINK... SINCE. YK. HES AN ARCHER. AND DOES TRAINING. AND COMBAT. AND DOES ALL THOSE HIGH JUMPS... HIS CHEST. ITD BE A BIT BIGGER FOR HIS STATURE.. omfg. that'd imply that his legs are fucking insane. and his arms too, since he has to pull back all those arrows so quickly.. oh my fuck. this. this is a revelation. what are you hiding under those robes noritoshi...???? one day.. one day we'll see...

oh my fucking god i forgot that i wrote shit while drawing. please ignore my fucking stupid writings AND THE STUPID ASS THING IN THE MIDDLE I FORGOT ABT WHILE DRAWING..

#kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #dawg my pc is so old. this drawing kept killing it off every few hrs #but nothing will stop my preaching of the gospel #ALSO I DIDNT SAY BUT DRAWING IN THE FUCKING ANIME STYLE WAS SO FUCKING TOUGH???#LIKE I FEEL LIKE IT LOOKS HALF ASSED BUT I DIDNT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO.#I STRUGGLED HARD BRO #FUCK #but i also learned a lot while doing it so it was hella fun #ahaha..... his lips are cupid's bow.. meaning his words are cupid's arrows.... meaning he could make you fall so hard istg #and hes an archer..... ahhaha... a nickname you could give him is cupid. ahahah. thatd be so cute. ahahaha <- insane #also me explaining fucking eyelid lines was spectacular. wheres my teaching license #AND I CANT FUCKING WAIT FOR THE STAGE PLAY DAWG. noritoshi's clothes flowy and in action..... im gonna study and fawn the FUCK out of that #as for the time lapse. ignore how i ignored the guidelines. why the fuck do i do that. bc im a cult leader thats why. dont question me #AND I APOLOGIZE FOR MY REVELATION AT THE END THERE. IM A DEGENERATE AT HEART. BUT I MUST REMAIN CLEAN. IF NOT TUMBLR GODS WILL KILL OUR CUL #but like i said i can be suggestive. heh. heh.#peep how i said [blank under the cut] heh. wow im such an online person.#oh how cool of me

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sehodreams · 5 months

Note

Plus size idol has a bad attitude and a chip on her shoulder because she made it in an industry where the odds are against her. She’s the kind of idol who proudly thinks “I got on this stage because of talent, not because of daddy’s money (Anton), plastic surgery (Wonbin), or steroids (Sungchan)”

Dark please.

Hi, sorry for taking so long, I had to change my phone that suddenly DIED and then I wrote one but didn't like it, I hope this one is a bit better, I struggled a bit with my words idk why, but I hope you like it!

BITCH

TW and tags: foursome, dark!idol!Anton, dark!idol!Sungchan and dark!idol!Wonbin x idol!plus size!reader, a bit of cum eating, cum play, no p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), noncon, a touch of choking (like always), munch!Anton, god Idk what else please if you don't like dark content don't read.

WC: 4.9k sorry again

They didn't know how to describe their relationship with you, you were just... Such a bitch.

They tried to be on your good side, knowing how much influence you had on the industry.

You were an excellent artist, a good writer and singer, even a good actor, but God, they hated you so much.

They didn't believe the others when they told them to be careful with you, how could you ever do something wrong to them? You had those cute cheeks and that sweet smile on cameras, you treated your staff good and even directors loved you, so punctual and organized, always doing your best.

But with them, you would critic every little mistake they did.

First you had to share a waiting room out of the blue, theirs had a problem with the plugs and they needed to get their hair done, so they went to yours. You smiled when their manager talked to you, "oh don't worry, it's always a pleasure for me to be helpful!" Their manager got charmed by you instantly, thanking you many times before they could go in.

It was a chaotic day, having to get ready even faster than normal, everyone walking around and moving things, when suddenly they heard a crash.

Everyone looked at it, Wonbin had pushed a flower pot by accident and it got all your fan letters wet. You looked at it surprised, not knowing what to say, and Wonbin's ears got red instantly, embarrassed to the core. He bowed many times, apologizing, and you stopped him with your hand. "Accidents happen" you smiled.

All of them got up their seats and apologized at the same time. Their manager ran to ask for a hairdryer to one stylist that had gone out.

When you and the boys were alone, in silence, you spoke again. "Fucking rookies" you spat. All of them looked at you surprised by your tone. Your whole face had changed, your sweet camera smile nowhere to be found.

"We're really sorry" Shotaro, as the eldest, apologized again.

"Shut up, I don't want to heard any of you anymore, I'm tired of all your obnoxious voices" you were sitting in front of them. All of them standing with their heads down. "Do you think I'm a joke? Why did you think you could all run around as if it was your playground?"

They could feel the heat coming out of you, your voice making them feel small, tiny, as if they were nothing.

Their manager came back and started to dry the letters, you smiled and told him to not mind, they were just paper, they'd get dry on their own. "She's such a good person" the manager said later, hopeful eyes filled with emotion, touched by your kindness. They didn't dare to say what happened, just nodding.

Their second meeting was even worse. Anton's father was in the same show with you and they saw you on TV talking with him. "Please take care of him when you see him" he smiled, the exact same eyes that their maknae had. You replied immediately "oh please don't worry, I've met him already, he's such a sweet and respectful boy, I can see how much effort you've put into making him a great person" it had to be an accident what happened last time, you talked so good about one of their members on tv, caring and soft words were the only things that came out of you, maybe it was just a bad day, they thought.

When they met you in another program they knocked your door, everyone with their best smiles and a bouquet to apologize for what happened last time. One member of your staff opened the door, they could see you inside wearing a pretty pink gown, getting your hair done to the presentation in a couple of hours.

You lifted your eyes from your phone and looked to them. "Can you leave us alone a second?" You asked your staff, all of them left, leaving you alone. Maybe you would apologize to them too, right? "What did I tell you last time? I can see you're all stupid enough to come and bother me again" your glossy lips said smoothly, as if you were singing. They couldn't help but look at you, pink robe showing your legs, your hair up, neck naked, and your honey lips moving, spitting harsh words like a praise. "I guess you have no idea how to respect your seniors, you're lucky I'm a good one, but don't ever come here unannounced again, and this is my last warning, the next time I'll fucking kill you"

They left the flowers and went back to their room. No one said anything, but they all thought the same thing, "bitch".

When the show finished and they were leaving they saw some cleaning ladies pushing trash carts, their flowers showing on top of one, over a bunch of plastic bottles and makeup wipes.

At least they agreed on one thing, to never bother you again. However, what they didn't expect was the collaboration the company arranged with a couple of singers, you being one of them.

You'd be on one of their tracks that you'd write and produce.

Anton, Sungchan and Wonbin were the choosen ones, the others exhaled, feeling grateful to not being paired with you, and feeling sorry for the boys that would work with you.

They talked a lot about it, how would they behave in front of you, not talking unless they were asked to, not contradicting you and not even maintaining eye contact with you for too long, anything to work in peace and finish the job as fast as possible.

They couldn't deny how good of an artist you were, all your songs hits and your fandom making noise every time you arrived to shows.

It was unusual for a girl like you to be an idol, a big girl, your face was quite slim, but your thick legs and full chest always caught attention. Still, you were loved by many and they respected that.

And they liked it too.

"Hi boys, is such a pleasure to work with you, I hope we get a hit!" You laughed and raised your hand, cheering for them. Their manager smiled, wiped for you, while they smiled shyly, afraid of shifting the energy in the room if they weren't careful.

You all went to the recording room, alone there, you sat on the only chair, claiming your position, and they had to sit on the little couch behind you. You showed them your notes and told them your ideas for the song, a love song like usual. They nodded and agreed to everything you said.

If you said the sky was green and the grass blue, they would go along with you.

"I thought you were stupid only in front of me, but it seems you're like that all the time" you said after half an hour being together. They couldn't nod this time. "You're so useless, I don't know why would they make me work with you, some fucking rookies" you walked to grab your bag and pulled a box of cigarettes, everyone focus on your figure walking, appreciating your bubbly ass that showed through your yoga leggings and oversized t-shirt that tried to covered it but rolled over it. Then, when they saw you put the cigarette between your lips and search for a lighter, they looked at each other. It was prohibited to smoke there, but how could they defy you? "I'm sick of everyone disrespecting me, I got here after so much, you have no idea what I've been through to get here" you laughed sourly, "well, of course you don't know about it, I got here because of talent, not because of daddy’s money, plastic surgery, or steroids" the room started to get hot, their faces couldn't hide the irritation anymore, they perfectly knew who were you referring with your words but preferred to stay silent, biting their own tongue "and yet I feel like they continue laughing at me, making me their favorite joke" you slowly exhaled the smoke, not directing your eyes to them, as if you were talking to yourself.

They were exhausted, exhausted of you insulting them, critiquing them for everything, and doing their best to not snap.

"You really have no shame" Wonbin broke the silence after a long minute. "Talking like that, acting like big shit, and I guess that's why everybody laughs at you, trying to act big when you're just a fat bitch" he stood up and walked to you, the other two looked at him alarmed, shocked by the outburst. You, sitting, crossed your legs and exhaled a long line of smoke, maintaining eye contact with the talking boy, with a blank expression.

He smirked, seeing you sitting down there you were only a common girl, without no one on your side, and he felt like he could do anything to you. You felt that, you saw it on his face, you could recognize that expression anywhere, conceited, power hungry, resented. Then, he suddenly felt his hand burning, quickly moving it away. The other two jumped and walked to him, checking the mark your cigarette had left on his pale hand.

"What is wrong with you?!" Anton asked, shocked with your impulse. "You hurt him!"

Sungchan grabbed a cold water bottle from the mini fridge and pressed it against the burn spot. When he moved it away Wonbin checked his hand better, there was a small red spot getting darker because of the ash. He inspected it for a long time, too astonished, then after not much thinking he walked to the door and pressed the secure. The other two followed him with their eyes, holding their breath, waiting for what was gonna happen next.

You didn't waver, set on not appearing weak in front of those three rookies.

"I think you forgot something" he talked, hand on the door handle "You, at the end of the day, are just one girl, and we'll always be stronger than you" he turned his face to you, ears red again, but not from embarrassment this time, from rage.

You, in that exact moment, knew you'd get hurt too.

You gave him a sided smile, "do whatever you want, I'll fucking end your careers after I get out of here"

You saw the younger one put himself between Wonbin and you, as a wall, protecting you. "Hyung, let's talk about this, don't do anything careless" he tried to stop him, the other gave you a glance and then moved his attention to the taller one. "We can get on serious problems"

"We're already on serious problems, it doesn't matter what we do now, she's gonna talk around, we can say goodbye to any deal now" Sungchan, who remained on one side, finally talked.

"You too? What the hell are you thinking?" Anton didn't know what to do, he was displeased too, but going so far hadn't crossed his mind.

"I think this bitch needs a lesson, if we don't give it to her now, she's gonna continue acting like this with others" he grabbed Anton's shoulders and made him turn to you, you were still on your place, frowning, not having were to go, expecting the younger one to help you escape, but when Wonbin whispered to his ear, you knew it was over "look at her, she's not regretful at all, and if we don't do it now, someone else is gonna do it later"

Anton agreed with that, someone was gonna teach you a lesson at some point, and it better be them, right?

When Anton's eyes wandered around your body, hips and thighs bigger on that chair, chest so full it was slightly spilling over your bra, he decided this was a job they had to do.

The job he wanted to do.

Sungchan saw the conviction on Anton's eyes, and when his lips slightly parted, the two older boys smiled. "You can have the first taste" Wonbin pushed him closer to you.

A chill ran down your legs, "move, now" you stood up and ordered the younger one. The three of them were in front of you, all of them taller, you had to lift your head to look at them in the eyes, you had never felt so small in your life. When they saw you there, cornered, eyes up and hands shaking, with the same fucking bossy expression, as if you had any power there, they snickered.

Wonbin nodded to Sungchan, who instantly understood what the other wanted. The two of them caught your arms and made you sit on your chair again. Anton was in front of you, still doubting, not knowing what to do.

"Stop right now! Let me go!" You demanded and squirmed, trying to get yourself free.

"Don't move so much, it's gonna happen you want it or not, no one is gonna help you, there are no cameras here to not leak content, and the whole room is soundproof" you felt yourself get weaker with Wonbin's words, your lips started to quiver and your eyes tried to soften the youngest so he could help you. You looked at him with your most helpless eyes, pleading for help. He sighed, and you saw his face change, desire starting to show on it.

"Come on, you need to pacify her now, if you don't she'll be all feisty later" Sungchan laughed. Wonbin knew he'd need a little help, so he lifted your t-shirt and pulled down your bra, your full tits bounced with the rough movement and the maknae's eyes couldn't leave you, tongue wetting his lips. You were about to scream when Wonbin made you bite your shirt to maintain it up, and then he covered your mouth so you wouldn't spit it. Sungchan decided to move to the back of the chair, grabbing both your arms with one hand.

Your full chest was there, in front of their eyes. Your tits were perfect for all of them, so big and full, your nipples were bigger than what they had ever seen, but they still liked them, all round and calling for them to get a taste.

Sadly, the two older ones needed the youngest to be on board, so he'd have the privilege of the first taste.

Anton kneeled in front of you, his big hands went first to your waist, to see how much he could hold, and then they started to roam up, holding the weight of your tits with his hands before he gave you a look. You didn't move, your eyes were getting a bit wet, but you tried to keep an stoic aspect, strong as always. He didn't waste any more time and gave them a good lick, moaning to himself. They felt so good on his tongue his eyebrows frown. They were soft, easy to handle, and he had to enjoy it as much as he could.

He kept licking them, his tongue playing with one of your nipples while one of his hands molded the other, pinching your little bud every now and then. He played with both of them like that for a good time, making you feel more and more wet with time, you still felt bad, kind of sick of the way he seemed to enjoy it so much, making eye contact until you couldn't and decided to lift your gaze.

Big error, you saw the expression on the visual boy, smiling, proud of his member working you so well, and felt worse.

You shook your head and tried to kick him to get away, but the young boy was so strong he pushed his weight into your thighs so you didn't interrupt his activity.

"Come on, do something else, we don't have all day" Sungchan talked behind you. Anton found the strength he needed to pull apart from your tits and touched your thighs, watching you with a drunk expression. Your nipples were hard, glistening with his saliva, begging to receive more attention, but he couldn't monopolize you.

"Pull down her pants" Anton, after Wonbin ordered him, started to pull down your pants and your panties, slowly, trying to see as much of you as he could to remember it later. Your soft and thick thighs showed a couple of marks because of their size, but he followed the way they pushed against the velvet seat and thought how good they would feel around his face.

And your pussy, god, so plump and wet, he made you open your legs, lifting one over the chair arm, and saw your sweet pussy shine, like honey pouring down, he thought, wanting to taste you.

"Can I..." Anton mumbled.

"Do it" Wonbin encouraged him. Anton didn't need more, he opened your lips with his fingers and saw how precious you looked down there, then he pressed his flat tongue onto your clit, eyes closed and almost rolling of how good you tasted.

He slurped, the wet sounds echoing in the room made everything more dirty and the two other boys felt their tips tingle, dying for their turn.

"Shit, she's dripping" Sungchan said, the sound of your pussy was so dirty his head started to get numb, and when you let your head fell because of the stimulation, looking up and catching each others eyes, he couldn't resist it and with his free hand squeezed your tit. He wanted to kiss you, push his tongue into your mouth, but you were still biting your shirt. You squirmed, overstimulated with his little touches over your sensitive nipples and the other boy eating the life out of you.

"Are you gonna be a good girl now?" Wonbin asked on your side, you moved your eyes to him and nodded, not being able to talk because of the shirt he made you bit. "Good" he let your mouth free and stripped your t-shirt off.

You felt the cold air touch your naked body and slightly shivered.

You screamed, a clear and loud "Fuck you". Wonbin slapped you, shaking your whole body. You stayed there, mute, feeling your cheek sting, and decided to just stay silent from that moment on. You couldn't afford to get hurt, you had job to do later, and tomorrow, and the next day. The boy slurping your juices hadn't even noticed the other hurt you, too concentrated on his dessert.

"Can I kiss her now?" Sungchan asked, polite and eager, after seeing you cry in silence, but calm. Wonbin nodded and Sungchan grabbed your chin to make your head fall again and kiss you, softly at first, then deeper. Your tongue felt like velvet against his, soft and wet, smooth, like the seat you were dripping on. He couldn't contain himself anymore, he stopped kissing you and pulled down his zipper and his underwear, just enough for his dick to bounce in front of your face, moving his hand up and down his member. Your lipgloss was smudged around your mouth and you looked up to him with dull eyes, death, and distracted with the boy between your legs, trying to contain the sounds that wanted to escape, you couldn't let them know how much stimulated you were.

You were so close, your hole started to beg for something to fill it, but of course you'd never say it. You're eyes were unfocused and, after a couple of minutes containing them, pretty moans started to leave your lips. "Wait, wait, please" you begged, with your singing voice, it sounded like an echo, music to their ears.

You didn't want to cum, you couldn't get more humiliated, not more.

"Move" Wonbin pushed Anton's head away of you. You sighed, glad the boy helped you resist. You were wrong, he pushed Anton to occupy that spot, eating you even harder, with his thumb poking your entrance.

"That's not fair, I wanted her to cum on my mouth" Anton protested and tried to push the older boy "I deserve her orgasm"

"Shut up, you were about to cum faster than her" Sungchan laughed, still jerking off in front of your face. The image of your dumb face and open lips making those sounds was enough to drive him crazy.

"Hyung please let me, I'll let you put your dick first, I swear" Anton pleaded. Wonbin didn't want to, but he had a soft spot for the youngest, so he moved away and let him finish you. Your hands were free now, hanging yourself on your seat, trying to calm yourself, but when the boy pushed his face onto your entrance you had to grab something else, so you grabbed his hair, hard, wanting to hurt him as much as they hurt you.

It had the opposite effect. Your pussy dripping, with your hands pulling his hair, made him insane. He rubbed his dick against your free leg, and when your hands painfully pulled his hair with force and your pussy spammed around Wonbin's fingers, he came. While he was cumming he didn't stop slurping, drinking your orgasm like a thirsty man.

Sungchan moved his dick to your lips, touching it with the tip. You were still drunk on the feeling, trying to recollect yourself, when Sungchan decided it was a good idea to cum on your face. His cum fell onto your lips, and he moved it around your mouth, smearing it over the rest of your lipgloss.

"You have two options, what do you want to do, do you want me to fuck your pussy or to fuck your mouth?" Wonbin said putting his hand around your neck, making you look at him in the eyes. Sungchan had decided to sit on the couch to recover, and Anton on the floor, next to you and caressing your thigh, also trying to catch his breath, but focusing more in his fingers drawing on your skin.

You didn't want to choose, the cum on your mouth tasted like shit and your legs hurt, you only wanted it to end and go home, but you could see in the eyes of the boys that they wanted a lot more of you.

Tears started to flow out of your eyes, one by one, falling down your eyes, which made Wonbin smile more, giving you a peck on the lips Sungchan had dirtied with his orgasm.

"I want to go, please, I'm tired" you cried. Anton's hand got tighter on your leg and Wonbin's hand too, around your throat. You wanted to cough, not being able to breath.

"She's been good, I think she deserves a kiss and to go home" Anton said with a sweet tone, low.

"Well, I think she deserves one more orgasm" Sungchan smiled at you, proud of his work.

"You both say that because you got to cum, but what about me?" Wonbin was defensive, his hand kept squeezen your throat and your eyes burned.

"Then you can use her mouth, but not her hole, if one fuckes her, everyone fucks her, deal?" Sungchan said with authority. Wonbin scoffed at the sudden lider.

"You've heard him, you have no option now" Wonbin was quickly to pull down his underwear, the time was running out and they had an schedule after their session with you. What would happen next? They didn't care. They knew, when they saw the fear in your eyes, that you'd never talk about this. Three rookies fucking you? Who would believe you? Were you trying to brag around that you fucked those gorgeous men?

His grip around your neck got loose. You coughed and he let you catch your breath. He knew you'd need that air when he was fucking your mouth, because he was going to fuck it properly, like a bitch like you deserved.

He made you kneel in front of him, grabbing your arm and pushing you to the floor. It hurt your knees, you made a painful noise and Anton side-eyed him, not liking how he treated you. "Don't do that again, those are not the kind of marks we should leave on her" Anton, on your side, held your hair with care and moved it out of your face so you could be more comfortable.

"Why do you care so much how we treat her?" Sungchan bluffed.

"She's mine too, and I like to take care of my things" he cleaned your tears with his thumbs, caressing your chin and giving you a look full of love. He smiled at you, not showing his teeth, but sweet enough to make you warm.

And you hated that.

"Anton-ah, help me, please" you sobbed. He nodded.

"Of course honey, one more orgasm, right?" He answered, making you cry harder.

"Now say ahh" Wonbin grabbed your hair and made you sit back in your knees. You had to hold yourself with one hand behind you, your tummy and thick thighs completely showing. You were almost completely naked, only your usual expensive jewelry on your neck and wrist.

Those golden jewels look so good on you, all naked and glowing. Your face was sweaty and had cum around your mouth, filthy, contrasting with your gold necklace with a little heart around your throat.

Wonbin licked his lips and pushed the tip of his cock in front of you. You had no option than to leave a little kiss on it, closing your eyes to not look at him.

He had a pretty cock, pink with a red tip, as if even it was angry and trying to break you. You licked it as much as you could, covering the left part of it with your pretty hand with the bracelet tingling.

Anton held your hair to help you, and when he moved his eyes down your chest to your thighs he couldn't help but pay attention to your pretty tummy, a little pouch over your chubby and pretty pussy. His free hand started to touch your clit, gently at first, but then, second by second, he started to want more, and at some point, when Wonbin pushed your mouth over his whole dick, tired of your lame work, he pushed two fingers inside you, distracting you. "You're doing such a good job" he praised you.

Sungchan got enough, he situated behind you again, pushing his cock to your lower back and kissing your cheek and pinching both nipples between his fingers. "Cum one more time, just one more" he begged.

It was too much, you wanted to cream but your mouth was busy with Wonbin's cock. Your eyes cried and cried, and muffled sounds stayed on your mouth.

After minutes that seemed to never end, when Wonbin was about to cum, he pushed your head out of his cock, jerking in front of you. You couldn't think, shaking with Anton's fingers inside you and the tension forming in your stomach.

"Stop!" You tried to remove his fingers out of you, feeling something close. A strong orgasm, the strongest you've ever had on your life.

Sungchan, still rubbing his dick with your back, left your tits alone and grabbed your waist, making you fuck yourself against Anton's fingers.

You yelled after a minute, coming hard as never. A liquid poured over Anton's hand and leaked to the floor wood, making a little pod. At the same time Sungchan came over your back, and Wonbin over your beautiful chest, with white drops falling all around, one drop over your heart necklace.

You shook and fell onto Sungchan's arms. He held you, giving you a soft kiss on your temple. "Good girl" he appreciated.

You closed your eyes, about to pass out, trying to breath normally again, but opened them again after you felt a sting on your chest, almost near your collarbone, hissing of pain. "This is a gift, so you never forget what happens if you don't behave" Wonbin kissed your cheek. He had burned you with a different cigarette, one he had just smoked.

Anton pushed his hand away. "I told you to not hurt her" he was mad with Wonbin's action, hugging your side and giving you a kiss on your other cheek to comfort you.

You cried and hugged the youngest, big and warm, comforting you like a little girl.

Anton and Sungchan helped you to get dressed. Your thighs were a mess and they were looking for something to help you get clean when they heard knocking over the door.

The three of them looked at each other alarmed, it was impossible to hide you or the mess they had done.

Wonbin decided to give face and make the people on the other side of the door leave. He opened it, trusting the other two to cover you.

Eunseok was there, looking a bit tired. "We have to go, manager says that..." He looked inside the room. It was impossible to not understand what happened, the smell of sex and orgasms was too strong, and the boys were glowing, clearly satisfied.

You stood up and ran to the door, not leaving time enough for the bigger boys to hide you. "Get me out of here, now!" You demanded. You weren't wearing pants and he could see how fucked you were, hair dirty and smelly, face smeared of gloss and what he recognized as semen.

"What the- what have you done?!" He was terrified, holding your hands inside his. You threw yourself into his arms, shaking, "Really guys? Without me?"

All the boys in the room smiled with the cry that came out of you.

Such a bitch, they thought.

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #dark!riize #dark!wonbin #riize smut #dark riize #dark!anton #dark!sungchan #PLEASE READ TW

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nikolliver · 1 month

Text

Princess or Prince, You are still Royalty

The show kept going like usual.

Script followed perfectly, none of the actors tripped at their feet, no buzzy noisy phones in the middle of the crowd.

Nothing was out of place. Except for one little detail that tormented their systems the entire performance.

In the middle of the children at the front seats, a glum purple bow remained still watching the show.

Something was wrong.

Karma was never that quiet.

“You look tired.” Geppetto asked while tapping Nana’s shoulder with a small frown.

“I’m always tired.” Nana mumbled.

“More tired than usual.” His frown grew.

The old lady sits at one of the chairs near the stage with a sigh. “Just my son failing at trying to change things for better.” She rubs her forehead. Geppetto sits at the chair on her left.

“What did he do this time?” Geppetto rolled his eyes, this is not the first time Nana was stressed by his own son. His glasses caught a small yellow spot near the bright stage playing with a plush of Moon. Their movements were reticent than usual. Karma lifted their head to stare up at Geppetto. The sparkle in their eyes were weak, they couldn’t hide it.

Geppetto tilted his head and Karma mimicked. As the lights of the stage slowly went dark, metal clicks and soft bells moved behind the curtain, a silhouette crawled to the backstage entrance. Karma’s eyes followed the dark figure while hopping slightly on their feet, hesitant.

“Hey!” Geppetto called, Karma turns in a flinch to Geppetto. “I’ll be here talking with your nana; You can play with Moon while we talk.” He speaks with a serene smile.

Karma’s expression shined with thrill. Their feet swift dragging themselves towards the backstage door almost tripping on the way.

Nana glances up at her grandchild with an exhausted smile as they ran.

Karma drifted at the hallway and found themselves starring to a dark path. The backstage was consumed by the dark, the cutout settings and props were barely visible for Karma. All they could recognize in the dark was a hanger, some makeup chairs… A dim blue-Ish smoke in the air.

A tall ominous figure lurked at the dark right in front of the hallway Karma was. The bells hanged on its body and hat jiggled with its movements as it stood on its feet, dim white lights from its eyes as it turned to glance down at Karma, its arms glowing a dim weak blue. His faceplate spins once, twice. His hat didn’t fall from his head somehow, as always, the bell on his hat jiggling with the spinning. The static grin on his face was merely visible by the reflection of his eyes in the dark.

He was just shrimping there… menacingly.

Karma lets out a snicker, causing Moon’s posture to perk up. He lurks in the dark sideways, luring as a trail of blue smoke follows his hand as he walks. Soft snickers crackling from his voice box. The child hops towards the backstage following the blue smoke trail which emanated a dim glow in the dark for them to follow. The sounds of metal clicks in the dark mixed with the sound of the jiggling bells helped the child with their locomotion in the dark.

Moon was hanged in his wire, “swimming” around and pushing makeup chairs here and there. Karma just watched the trail of smoke from Moon’s hand as he swings himself smoothly in the air. The lunar animatronic sets up a small sun-themed makeup mirror on the small table, right next to a makeup kit stage-themed and S.T.A.F.F bots stands with accessories, the lights were dim enough for Karma to see their reflection and for Moon to stay near it. He pushes a small chair towards Karma with bright purple glowing from his arms and cheeks LEDs lights. Karma ‘fancily’ sits on the chair and makes a pose with a smug, placing the Moon plush on their lap. Moon chuckles as he pushes the chair to the makeup set up. He adjusts the chair to the size of the table and swings away to the darkness.

Moon returns on a chair, stomach on the seat with legs above his head, mimicking a ‘swimming’ motion with his arms while spinning around Karma. Both the child and the animatronic chuckle in pure cheer. He extends his hand towards Karma’s plush of himself, which the child handles it for him. Moon smoothly pushes himself next to the mirror on the table, he sits the plush next to it and opens the makeup kit, theatrically presenting all the options for Karma. Lipsticks, blushes, eyeliners, a phenomenal treasure for theater kids.

Both of them exchange glances as they rub their hands like little giggling menaces, Moon wiggling his feet on the air. Karma analyzes the makeup kit, tilting their head and raising an eyebrow.

“Purple, please!” The child points at the purple blush. Moon nods, he snaps his fingers with a blue smoke and a brush falls on his hand. With his other hand, the animatronic presses a metallic finger against Karma’s bow on their head, gently lifting their head slightly upwards. He taps the brush on the blush color that Karma had chosen and carefully passes the brush against Karma’s right cheek. The child giggles. “It tickles…!” They chirp. Moon snickers as he spins his faceplate.

As he keeps brushing Karma’s face, his movements get slower as he brings the brush to the blush kit. He stares at the brush for a long second and then side-eyes Karma. The child shows a poker face… And sticks their tongue out. His head twitches to the side once, twice. His LED’s turning into his debut blue.

“You’re upset.” Moon intoned.

Karma blinks at Moon’s words. They look at their surroundings consumed by the dark and then back to Moon. “…I’m not.” Karma replied. “I’m fine, Moon!” They completed.

The answer they got from Moon was a still glare, tapping Karma’s bow slightly, his feet brought to the wire on his back, his expression was its usual static grin, but Karma could tell that Moon was narrowing his eyes at them.

“Tiny, tiny…” Moon muttered.

Karma side-eyes to their sides. “… Yes Moonman?”

“Feeling down?”

“No Moonman…”

“Telling lies?”

“No Moonman!”

“Gimme your nose.” Moon reaches a finger towards Karma’s face.

“No!” Karma squeaks, pushing Moon’s hand away.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” The lunatic wiggles his fingers up and down as he giggles.

Karma chuckles as they push Moon’s hand. “No! You already have a nose!”

“I’m making a collection.” Moon brushes the brush on Karma’s face, causing squeaky chuckles from the tickles.

They keep with the tickles and giggles until Karma slaps the brush from Moon’s hand. “Moon!” Karma hissed. Moon flinches with the chair away, pulling his feet to his shoulders, he freezes and pulls his hands back from them as his LEDs turn into bright white. An annoyed pout on Karma’s lips turns to a mournful face. “…Sorry.” They turn their head to the side.

Moon stood still for a moment as his lights slowly change to his usual blue, he looked at the brush on the floor and back to Karma. He stretches his arm to pick up the brush and places it on the table. He stares at the sad child for a second and takes the Moon plush from the table. The lunar one brings the plush closer to the child. “… talk?” He whispered.

Karma turned their head to see the plush slightly tilted to the side. They look at Moon, his whole arm was stretched holding the plush.

…Karma takes the plush to their hands. “Okay.” They nod at Moon.

Moon spins his legs, contorting himself on the chair, in a blink of an eye, he’s now sitting upright, clicking with excitement. For any human to do this without breaking a single part from their body is almost impossible to imagine, yet such a casual habit for this lunatic animatronic. He shrimps as he pushes himself with the chair near Karma, pulling another type of brush from the makeup kit. “Eyeshadow?” Moon tilts his head to the side.

Karma nods with a soft smile. “Yellow, please!”

Moon spins his faceplate and taps the brush on the eyeshadow color. He gently pushes Karma’s forehead upwards. “Close your eyes.” The moon whispers softly. The child obeys and close their eyelids, snickering as the brush slides softly against their face. “And tell the Moonman what happened.”

Karma peeks for a second, but Moon pokes their nose slightly indicating for them to not open their eyes as he passes the eyeshadow. “So, uh…” The child jiggles the plush hat. “My dad is trying to give me a new mom.”

Moon freezes as he takes the brush away from their face. Long seconds of silence and Karma peeks opening one eye to see a looming lunar animatronic with dead fish eyes staring at the void. His LEDs merge from purple to red. “… Moon?” The child calls. His faceplate ticks and tocks, spinning slowly like a clock. His LEDs returns to blue as his eyes turn down to Karma as his faceplate turns upside down, so he might be looking upwards?... The sounds of the bell on his hat as he corrects his faceplate distract the child from the thoughts.

“… Apologies.” Moon sighed. “Sun just had a seizure in here.”

“Pfft-” Karma covers their mouth with the plush.

Moon wiggles the brush close to Karma’s face and they close their eyelids.

“New mom…” Moon mumbles. “Did he find any?” He tilts his head.

“This is the third woman that dumps on him.”

Moon snickers as his LEDs turn into a brighter blue, the brush flinched slightly on his hand. Karma chirps with the tickling brush on their face. “Have you liked any?” Moon presses their forehead.

The child remains thoughtful for a moment. “…Not really.” Moon pulls the brush away and Karma opens their eyes.

“Were any of them naughty?” Moon tilts his head to the sides, analyzing his work.

“I think...?” Karma cuts their shrug with a blink. “Wait, no. Only two of them were evil.”

Moon hums as he pulls the S.T.A.F.F bots stands with the accessories nearby. His LEDs turning into darker blue. “What had them done?” He spins the bots slowly for Karma to analyze the accessories.

“The first one dumped on my dad after she found a weird magazine about woman that my dad had hidden under his side of the mattress.” Karma points at a green hairclip. “That one.”

Moon freezes, LEDs turning into a green-Ish tone, only moving his hand to take the clip and side-eyes Karma. “Being sunny nosy?” An audible grin on his voice box.

Karma giggles. “Nana told me to keep an eye on my dad~” They hum as Moon carefully places the hairclip on their… well, hair.

“Did you…” Moon paused. “Checked the magazine?”

Karma shook their head. “Nope, just saw the cape.” The turn their head to the mirror. “There was a woman with a weird bikini on it.”

Moon shrinks awkwardly, the green on his LEDs getting stronger. “…Don’t look inside magazines like that.” He spins the S.T.A.F.F bots.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Karma pats the moon plush. “The next one was worse.”

“What had she done?” Moon stretches his neck frontwards.

Karma points at a white necklace, a frown forming on their expression. “She was a true witch…” They shrink on their shoulders. “She almost ruined my crawly parade!” They exclaim with bitterness.

A raspy gasp comes from Moon’s voice box. “No no…” He shook his head, his blue turning into red.

“I almost lost one of my froggies!” The child almost jumps on their seat.

Moon brings his hand to his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh no no…”

Karma crosses their arms. “That one was an evil witch…” They mumble.

“Evil evil…” Moon takes the white necklace near Karma, whose sit upright on their seat. He smoothly places it around Karma’s neck. The child tilts their head on the mirror. The lunar one tilts his head to the side, glancing down patiently.

“…And the last one?” Moon hushed. Karma’s frown turns to discommodity, their head turn down to their feet, kicking the air weakly.

“…” Silence from the child. Moon leans down to his side, turning his faceplate upside down. “… She tried to dress me as a… ‘boy’.” Karma whispers.

Moon smoothly straightens his posture on his seat, the red changed into a withered green. His eyes locked down on Karma’s face in a long minute of silence. He could feel the bow on their head wither with their sadness. Oh, how much they hated to see Karma like that.

“…” The animatronic followed the silence along. “… do you feel like a boy?” Moon rests his elbow on his knee.

“…So.” Karma hugs the moon plush. “I… Technically ‘am’ a boy… At least that’s what everyone tells me.” They frown. “But… I don’t know…”

Moon leans his head closer. “…Your name?” He spins his faceplate.

“Here’s the thing. I have a ‘boy’ name.” Karma gestures with their fingers. “My dad gave me and I hate that name…” They hiss. “’Karma’ is the name that I like best, but everyone treats it like a nickname for me. So, they don’t take it so seriously.” They hold the moon plush to face them. “Only my mom and Nana actually understand that… I’m not sure if I want to stay as a boy or not.” The child holds the plush by its hands.

Moon drums his fingers on his chin and knee. “…Feel like a girl?”

“I don’t know…” They murmur.

“You can be both…” He tilts his head to the side. “You can be neither.” He tilts to the other.

“Ughhh.” Karma groans as they sink on the chair. “I don’t know…” They drop the plush on their face.

Moon clicks. He gently pushes the plush from their face to it fall on their lap. The animatronic carefully pats the child’s head. “No need to hurry.” Moon spoke softly.

Karma looks up to Moon and holds one of his long metal fingers with both of their hands. His hand turns to hold their tiny hands on his large palm, Karma sits straight on their seat and starts tapping their hands on Moon’s palm.

“You know…” The child speaks. “Despite all of that… I still like dressing up as a princess.” They place the plush hand on Moon’s palm.

“You are still a princess.” Moon replies. “Girl or not.” He closes his fingers glowing purple, holding gently the small hands, he pats the child with his other hand.

“I like dresses though…”

“So do I.”

“You’re an animatronic, it doesn’t count.”

…Moon rests his hand on Karma’s head for a minute, his dead fish eyes freeze as his head lifts upwards. “…” He opens his hand, letting go from the smaller hands. “Brb.” Moon is yanked by his wire to the darkness above. Karma looks up just to listen metal clicks and bells giggling away.

Now even a minute and Moon returns doing a somersault, rolling like an armadillo. He sits next to Karma like a dog with an old paper on his teeth, but spinning his faceplate. The child can’t help but laugh when Moon leans the paper to Karma.

On the paper there was a doodle of a ‘sun king’ and a ‘moon queen’. Karma can recognize Geppetto’s art style from any time, he had shown them multiple of his concept arts. The child looked at Moon and then the paper, for each turn their eyes seemed to get brighter and brighter.

“YOU WERE A QUEEN??” Karma exclaimed jumping on their seat, the plush almost fell but Moon picked it before it could hit the floor.

Moon replies with a giggle as his LED’s turn into pink. “Maybe maybe…” He scratches his faceplate with a finger. He places the plush back to Karma’s side.

Karma wiggled their feet in ecstasy as they stare at the paper. And they stop. “Wait a minute…” Their expression remains thoughtful. “… Did Geppetto made that choice or it was you?” The child tilts their head to Moon.

Moon drums his fingers on his faceplate, his eyes turn to the side.

The papers on the table, the sound of his fingers on the keyboard, that numb feeling weighting in its entire metal shell, the dusty rust in its joints. The old man said a single word, causing it to grip the table in front of the rusty animatronic. There were other people in the room, he flinched and backed away. How much it hated to be called like that, now finally aware of its own code. The old man didn’t scream like the others. He wasn’t running from the animatronic. He was… reassuring it? The people told him to run, but he didn’t. He finally called the animatronic. “Moonman”. Still with affliction. It stared for a long minute… It returned to its seat. It was enough.

“… He listened.” Moon looks down at Karma. The child blinks and handed back the paper to the animatronic, which slid the paper under his hat.

“You know what?” Karma held the plush. “It kind of makes sense that Sun was supposed to be a king before.” The child side-eyes with a smug.

“A flamboyant stuck up for sure.” Moon audibly grins in his voice box. Karma snickers along with the lunatic animatronic. “He’s now bonking me in here.” The child then crackles.

Karma makes a grabby motion towards Moon, which holds gently the child on his metal arms glowing bright purple. The small one bumps the plush against Moon’s face. “You guys are the best.” Karma giggles. “You two have some sort of a ‘mom and dad’ dynamic, I don’t know…”

The child’s words made Moon freeze in an instant. His LEDs flashed into white.

“Does that make Eclipse like, your child or something?” Karma obliviously asks while playing with the plush on their hands. They look up to Moon completely static while staring at nothing, fourth wall break style.

He looks down at Karma. Pats their head. And brings the child’s feet back to the ground. “Geppetto and Nana are done talking. Go.”

“…Okay.” Karma nods while removing the hairclip and necklace, handling it to Moon. “And Moon…” The lunar one clicks. “Thanks for that… And it was really fun!” The small one smiles at the animatronic.

“Your happiness is my only goal.” Moon bows at Karma like a gentleman, and the child bows back.

The voice of the old lady echoed through the corridor. The child skips to the bright exit of the room. Moon simply observes the child drifting away.

…He stared at his metal palm, the LED’s turning off. He wiggled his fingers, focusing on the clicking sounds.

Their small hand was growing. The child is getting older. Would he be able to easily carry them once they grow up? Would he follow up with their age?...

…

Moon clenches his fist. The wire hooked on his back and he is yanked to the dark above.

#niko niko writes #geppetto au #the daycare attendant #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca fanart #dca fandom #dca au #dca moon #fnaf daycare attendant #writing #dca fic #dca fanfic #dca fnaf

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