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draconic-desire · 1 month

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A Dance With the Dragon IV — Escape

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] Part IV — You are here]

After four hundred years, the chance for escape finally presents itself—what will you choose?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, brief mentions of NSFW thoughts and past events, feral dragon Neuvillette

Your opportunity for escape came on a gray and dismal day.

The past week had been particularly grueling for the Chief Justice—or so he had panted into your ear while he pinned you to the bed, skin slick with sweat and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

You’d initially took it as a thinly veiled excuse for the dragon to lash out, for him to lay claim to you once again, but you soon noticed his focus actually wavering. Just enough for it to slip his mind to tell your Melusine guards (or guides, as Neuvillette would insist) not to bring you to his office for your regular afternoon tea with him. Furina had insisted on his last-minute presence at the meeting between her and certain Snezhnayan diplomats, and his unwavering sense of responsibility to Fontaine prevented him from rejecting the order.

That was how you found yourself sitting alone in his office.

You were quite confused. Neuvillette never skipped tea with you. In fact, as the busiest man in Fontaine, he insisted on it. It was a new development, one he thought might bring the two of you closer and outside of a purely domestic setting.

You’d be grateful for the change of scenery if you didn’t end up bent over his desk half the time.

In the beginning you had fought him on it, but as time in his captivity stretched on you soon realized this was one of the only chances allotted to you beyond your shared abode, especially now that the Opera was off limits. You even got to chat with the Melusines who acted as your sweet, naive guards. They reminded you of Carole and your previous life, a bittersweet memory that you held onto like a fleeting dream.

Now, you couldn’t help but start to fidget in your seat. When one minute became two, and two became five, and five became ten, you couldn’t help the anxious tapping of your nails against his desk. Where was he? Had something happened to him? You knew the Chief Justice would never commit a crime, but the notion of him imprisoned forever in the Fortress or Meropide was one that brought you comfort during your unrequited relationship.

Particularly on nights he would remind you of whose sentence you were under, whose wife and mate you were.

Pushing both hands against the desk, you rose to your feet and stormed towards the door. You wouldn’t sit idly to stew in your own thoughts. You raised a fist, preparing to knock harshly to alert any Melusine or the Iudex himself whose inhuman perspectives misinterpreted this as some sort of sick joke—

Except the slightest force sent the door ajar, presenting you with an empty hallway.

It was unlocked.

You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate. It invaded your senses, your hearing, your feeling, until it drowned out all of your thoughts but one.

You could leave.

The absence of any other individual was unheard of. Logically, it didn’t make sense; there should have been a guard if Neuvillette expected to be late, or others working in the main office if they hadn’t been dismissed for break as usual (though you knew it was only to spare them of any ungentlemanly sounds that might be coming from his office after you entered).

It was then you realized: Neuvillette had made a mistake.

You didn’t spare a single glance back as you strode out the doors of the Palais Mermonia and onto the streets of Fontaine.

Navigating your way out of the Court was easier than expected. Although there was no mistaking who you were when Neuvillette dragged you out in public—whom else’s waist would he retain an iron grip on throughout an entire opera if not his loving partner—without him by your side, you appeared like any other resident.

Obtaining Mora for the ferry ride to Sumeru was also a breeze. You had no moral objections to pocketing a few coins from unsuspecting citizens along the docks. Why would you, when you had been serving a lifetime sentence of imprisonment anyway?

The ship wasn’t anything fancy and was mostly filled with traveling salesmen and local fishermen, but after centuries of being doted on and monitored constantly, you savored the feeling of being normal, of feigning the role of a traveling merchant. You truly never thought that pretending to be an average worker would feel so freeing.

Suddenly, the skin of your arm began to crawl, feeling like a thousand pinpricks were digging their claws under your skin. You hissed at the sharp pain, gasping at the brief flash of your draconic tattoo, and then…nothing. You could almost always feel it, but it seems that upon crossing a certain distance the leviathan decided to lie dormant. You thanked Barbados for your luck; in your certainty of escaping, you hadn’t even thought of the physical tie between you and Neuvillette.

As the boat pulled out of the dock, relief washed over you like the serenity after a storm. After months of the Iudex, the supposed upholder of Justice, violating every rule against you, you were finally free.

As you watched Fontaine’s massive cliffs fade into the waves, you briefly mourned your choice to leave your Hydro Vision behind; however, you reasoned that the risk in going back for it and wasting precious time was too great. Not to mention the fact that you were sure you’d never get away with slipping it out of Neuvillette’s grasp, and you certainly didn’t want to squander this chance by running back into his arms. Although you knew the rumors of what happened to bearers who lost their Visions, you were willing to take your chances if it meant securing your freedom.

A sudden splash against your cheek jerked you from your thoughts. Upon looking up, you found the previously azure sky to have darkened. Rain began steadily falling, soon fully soaking your frilly dress (another insistence of Neuvillette’s, that you always wear dresses for teatime…never again!). Thunder rolled across the waters, bringing a taste of pain, anger, and betrayal with it.

Ah, so he’s realized your absence. Good—let him rage. Let him experience the heartbreak of losing what you hold most dear.

Maybe that will serve as his atonement for his sins against you.

You noticed then that, like your draconic captor, you too were crying. Though not of sadness—no, yours were tears of joy.

~*~

Although you had originally planned to journey back to your homeland in the City of Wind—not that you had anyone left there to return to, it was more for your own comfort—you found Sumeru to be to your liking. It was Fontaine’s foil—hot, dry, intellectually driven yet full of untamed wilderness. Full of real, thriving flora and fauna that cold, inorganic meka could never match.

The presence of the Akademiya and Port Ormos even offered you a line to continue your photography and research. Due to the dark room Neuvillette had installed in the library, your skills with a camera hadn’t grown too rusty over the centuries. Now, you finally were able to photograph your true passions again—nature, the water, the animals around you. Their harmony and beauty together, their freedom.

It may seem as if you hadn’t gotten far, but with how vast the Nation of Wisdom was, you felt safe to start anew. For the first time in four hundred years, you felt at home.

Three months had passed since your escape, with no indication that the Iudex was on your trail. After enrolling in the Akademiya (which had required you to change your name, since posing as a four hundred year old would probably not go over well), you even found a group of fellow students that you worked and resided with in the city. You were still careful, of course—you never traveled alone, avoided looking flashy in public, and even altered your look by cutting your hair to suit the arid climate.

That is, until you weren’t.

Your advisor appointed you to join an exclusive research project on the wildlife transition along the Sumeru/Fontaine border. Having experience with Fontaine’s biology, you were the clear candidate. Your initial trepidation almost won out, but you finally conceded at the encouragement of your peers. You’d even be traveling with your advisor and two of your roommates, so you chalked your nerves up to not having set foot in the direction of Fontaine in months. After all, you’d been meaning to explore the desert and its ecology—you just needed to take the plunge and face your fears.

Water was a rarity in the desert, after all.

Which is why, as your party was ascending the final dunes of the Desert of Hadramaveth, you believed the tall, blue-adorned figure approaching was a mirage. A result of dehydration after days of travel in these harsh conditions, a trick of the mind—

“Of all the places you could have escaped to, was it necessary to choose such a dry and barren place as this?” The last part was mumbled under his breath, his tone taking on a low growl, “I cannot help but feel that you bringing me here is some form of an assassination attempt…”

At the sound of his voice, just as deep and commanding as you remembered, your entire being came to a standstill. You despised how you had been conditioned for that tone to send a pangs of trepidation to your core.

Yet despite the Chief Justice’s presence right before you, a part of your brain refused to process it. He was the Hydro dragon, for Archon’s sake. What in all of Teyvat could drag him to the farthest place from the sea?

You, apparently.

At your silence, Neuvillette’s lips tightened. His expression was near unreadable, but you recognized the tumultuous mix of anger and longing storming under that stoic facade.

The other members of your group appeared confused and uneasy. Apparently Neuvillette’s reputation preceded him, even outside of Fontaine, for the common mumbling you picked up on was speculations of his role here.

“Is that the Chief Justice of Fontaine?” a professor whispered to your advisor nervously. “What is he doing here? Surely none of us have offended the court…” Her eyes flickered to you briefly. Due to the nature of the research, it was common knowledge among the group that you were the one with connections to Fontaine.

Said Justice took a step towards you, spurring you to take a larger step back. You knew running wasn’t an option, but you reasoned that he couldn’t just take you clawing and spitting for all your colleagues to witness. No, he would have to convince them of your guilt before he could act.

Well, two could play at that game; you lived with Neuvillette long enough to learn some of his ticks and tells, especially when it came to you. This would be a game of negotiation, a chess match of wits. Neuvillette’s intellect was near unmatched, but if you played your cards right, you could win.

The tide that is Fontaine’s Iudex may one day sweep you under his control, but it is not this day.

“Madame (L/n), by the authority of the Court of Fontaine and the Nation of Justice, I hereby place you under my custody for immediate detainment.”

Or not.

A few of the researchers around you gasped, tittering about your supposed false identity. The professor from earlier backed away from you with a sneer. Looking around, you noted that even your friends were eyeing you warily like some stranger.

All logic left you at the dragon’s announcement. The terror gripping your heart was replaced by blinding, bubbling rage. You would not concede to the man who took everything from you and would take it all again, washing away the life you had built again like a house of sand.

You practically hissed in response. Now this was familiar. “Under what charges?”

Lifting his cane, Neuvillette summoned a levitating tome from which he read, “Multiple accounts of theft, use of a fraudulent identity, desertion in court to be tried for said charges, and emotional damages to the residents of Fontaine affected by your careless and selfish actions.”

You scoffed, your lip curling in a snarl. “And I suppose that last ‘charge’ applies specifically to you?”

The draconic man merely narrowed his piercing purple eyes. Unlike your own, Neuvillette’s demeanor did not falter. He wanted you to lash out, to validate the accusations against you in front of the Sumerian researchers. His objective was solely to retrieve you—quelling your anger would come later.

The day you left Fontaine, Neuvillette had felt a piece of his soul shatter.

He could feel the very moment you crossed the border, when the draconic bond between mates and lovers was severed. It was a guillotine to his head, a rope around his neck, a bullet to his temple. Pain, raw and agonizing, enveloped his very being. The dragon beneath his skin raged, begging Neuvillette to fly to you and sink his claws so deep you could never leave again. The all-consuming panic over your loss, over your safety now that you were outside of his sight, had threatened to rise up and smother him, to drown him and sweep the fractured pieces away until he was nothing.

It had rained for weeks straight, so much so that the citizens of Fontaine brought back the old adage—Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.

As much as he wanted, needed to find you, the Chief Justice could not simply abandon his post and his people. Going against his very nature, he quelled the dragon and settled on deploying Gardemeks to Sumeru and Liyue to search for you. It had been easy enough to program them with your photo and statement of your status as a fugitive. Surely you couldn’t have gotten any farther than the regions bordering Fontaine, and if so, the mekas would signal your location to him in no time.

So, after weeks on end of the Garde failing to locate you, Neuvillette’s anxiety swelled from a shower to a tempest, a storm of violent wind and flurrying emotion. He found himself in the library he had built you, clawed fingers clutching his face with labored breaths. Black danced across his vision.

Was he not enough for you? Had he not given you anything and everything you could desire? Had he not kept his mate safe?

Why did you abandon me, (Y/n)?

When he had come to, the room was in tatters, the carpet shredded with claw marks and the walls smoldering with blue energy.

Neuvillette decided then that he could not wait any longer.

Tracking you only fueled the dragon. It could sense you, the pull of your tattoo awakening with each step Neuvillette took to close the gap. It was one mate beckoning another, like the pull of the moon on the tide. Your light guided him straight into your path.

And when Neuvillette finally saw your figure, illuminated by the hottest desert sun, he had nearly fallen to his knees and wept in relief. You were so beautiful, yet the look of terror on your face ripped his soul apart all over again. Even now, even here, you wanted to reject him. Could you not see how far he would travel for you, how long his reach would extend just to keep you safe?

In that moment, the dragon roared, and Neuvillette listened.

After seemingly endless hours, days, and months to think about the reasons you left him, he realized that he must have been too lenient with you. He practically was the law in Fontaine, yet he had dismissed your transgressions time and time again, thinking your outbursts were simply a temporary response to your new life with him. Yes, the transition had been sudden and the charges against you quite ridiculous, but he truly believed you would fall for him as he did you.

He would tolerate your backlash no more. No longer would he spoil you with gifts, hoping, praying to every member of the Seven just for you to smile at him. Never again would he sigh in defeat when you spurned his touch, leaving him to fuck his hand to the mere idea of you initiating physical intimacy.

No, just like any other criminal in Fontaine, you would have to be imprisoned until you learned your place—in your case, by his side. And he would be lying if he said the idea of punishing you for your offenses, for leaving him, didn’t cause his cock to twitch in anticipation.

The dragon demanded to be satisfied, and it would have its fill.

“We have numerous reports of you stealing Mora from unsuspecting individuals, as well as the testimony from the ship’s captain that you claimed to be a merchant immigrating to Sumeru. Then, of course, comes the addition consequences for violating the authority of the court by leaving Fontaine. The latter makes you a fugitive.”

“That’s insane! I only had to commit those so-called ‘crimes’ because you—”

“Ah, so you plead guilty.”

You blanched. No, not this again. He was riling you up, making you fumble with your argument like a child, just like your initial confrontation with him in the Opera Epiclese. But that was how he viewed you, wasn’t it? His centuries of experience would always trump your own.

“You know that’s not what I meant—

The sound of your advisor clearing his throat momentarily saved you. “Sir, with all due respect, we do not know whomever this Miss (L/n) you are referring to. This young lady here is Miss (Fake name), and she is one of my finest students. I highly doubt she is the one to have committed these acts.”

Neuvillete’s eyes flashed dangerously towards the researcher. He loomed over your advisor, casting them in shadow. “Shall I arrest you as well for conspiring with a criminal?”

You never thought silence could be so deafening.

The Iudex released a huff. “I didn’t think so.” With a flick of his hand, your wrists became bound together with bands of pure hydro. Your protestations did nothing to deter him as he motioned forward, causing you to be forcibly dragged forwards by an invisible force. You were no stranger to this procedure; Neuvillette had used his powers on you more than once in bed. Now that he had his hydro around you, he held all the authority.

Without the ability to control your movements, you tumbled into Neuvillette’s broad chest. To the others it appeared as if he were securing your bindings, but you shivered as he buried his nose in your hair. Softly, in a voice only meant for you, he sighed, “Oh, how I dreamed of this moment, my darling (Y/n). A valiant effort, to be sure, though your pursuit was always in vain. There is nowhere in all of Teyvat I won’t find you.” His hand ran down the length of your arm, where you knew your draconic tattoo was once more glowing under your tunic. “You are marked as mine, my wife. My mate.”

You jerked your head away despite his scent invading your being. “I will never stop running from you, husband,” you growled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dissolving into the Primordial Sea is preferable to lifetime with you.”

To your surprise, a low chuckle escaped the Chief Justice’s lips. “I think you’ll soon find that I can be quite persuasive.” He stood to his full height, face reverting to his usually stoicism. “I shall be taking my leave with the prisoner, then. If any of you wish to object to this ruling, you may submit a false claim report to the Court, and I will attend to it personally.”

Glancing around at your peers, those you believed to be your friends and colleagues, you knew that none of them would fight for you. News of your detainment would be spread through the Akademiya, forever tarnishing your reputation. It was over, and Neuvillette had emerged victorious once again.

The Iudex motioned you forward with a tip of his cane and an ominous spark in his eyes. “Come, my beloved. Let us return home.”

#yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #neuvillette #yandere genshin impact #yandere #dragon neuvillette #escape #Yandere escape #run away #fontaine #sumeru #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere imagines

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merakiui · 25 days

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RABU.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, brief nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied murder/death, implied cannibalism, pregnancy, obsession note - i chatted with @heyyy11 and we discussed noodle shop owner jade!! :D this fic is the result of our thoughts. additionally, it's inspired by maretu's "binomi" and lyrics featured are from mitski's "me and my husband."

i. i steal a few breaths from the world for a minute. and then i’ll be nothing forever. and all of my memories and all of the things i have seen will be gone. with my eyes, with my body, with me.

There’s a pot of perpetual stew sitting on the stove.

It fills the small shop with savory scents, enthralling all who catch its delicious aroma on the air. Your husband of twenty years tends to it every now and then, lifting the lid to stir through its contents with a large wooden spoon. Regulars stop by for a fix of his food and comment much the same thing each time: “That husband of yours sure loves his stew.”

“Oh, he can’t get enough,” you would always reply, giggling at their observations.

You would then scrawl their usual orders in your notepad and they’d give you a knowing look. Still so infatuated even though two decades have passed—aren’t you the sweetest? But you can’t help it. Your husband is everything: affectionate, attentive, a masterful chef…

His forever single twin brother often groused that Jade got all the good fortune. “Y’know, if you’re ever tired of Jade, I’m here for ya,” he’d say, leaning over the counter with a sleazy smirk. “Shrimpy’s free to visit whenever she wants. My arms are always open.”

And Jade would smile tightly at him, brush him away with his broom, all while saying, “I’m afraid the shop’s closed now. You’ll have to come back tomorrow, Floyd.”

He acts in jest. Mostly.

Shortly after your wedding, on your first night as newlyweds, the two of you made a compromise. Jade wanted a family; you weren’t ready to start one. And so, in order to work through this dispute, you came to an agreement: He would be in charge of the prep work for the noodle shop he intended to open—a metaphorical child more than anything. In return, you would take orders and chat with customers. A fair deal, one you thought was attractive in its own right. Jade, ever so patient and understanding, lounged beside you in bed, gesturing towards the ceiling as if attempting to spell out the vision before your very eyes. He spoke so eagerly of his dreams. It warmed your heart.

Naturally, just as passionately, you would support him in his every endeavor.

“What do you think of this name? Rabu Rabu Ramen.”

You rolled over on your side, snuggling closer. You couldn’t snuff the overwhelming elation and tenderness that wrapped itself around you whenever you looked at him. And he was all yours—your husband to love forever, to grow old with, to experience life’s highs and lows together. Your wedding night was just the beginning of what would surely be a riveting romance.

“It’s silly.”

“It’s lovey-dovey.”

“If you like it, I like it.”

“Truly?”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Absolutely.”

It wasn’t long before fantasy bled into reality. The both of you found a quaint spot in a quiet neighborhood. It was more hole-in-the-wall than you would’ve liked, but Jade didn’t seem to mind. Sometimes tourists stumbled in, commenting that they would’ve missed it had they not ventured down the narrow path. Jade liked that aspect. It was secretive, peaceful, off the beaten track…

By the end of your first year running the shop, plenty of praise had spread throughout the neighborhood. You learned the locals’ names and faces quickly, committing each to your memory as if there might be an exam later on. They thought you were the cutest, the way you’d take charge of the front while your husband worked diligently in the back. Grandmothers adored you, and they made sure to point out the obvious at every opportunity.

“Omago-san, it’s too quiet in here! You’re still so young. Plenty of time for a family. Tell that husband of yours to get busy!”

You could only offer an awkward smile. “Maybe one day.”

When that ‘one day’ would be, you couldn’t say.

It’s become something of a widely-held belief that Jade can’t make a single bad dish. Everything on the menu is scrumptious. From the homemade noodles to the variety of broths to the additional ingredients, each prepared by Jade’s adroit hand, it’s a feast for the ravenous.

Sometimes customers ask for recommendations, and if you aren’t careful you’ll end up fawning over every dish.

“It’s all so amazing, but I like my ramen with bone broth. My husband makes it better than I do.”

It was true. You couldn’t possibly replicate Jade’s skill in the kitchen. At the very least, when it comes to tea, you’re on an even playing field.

“Just what’s his secret anyway?”

To that question, you could only offer a shrug. “Maybe it’s love?”

Jade told you it was a family recipe—a cherished secret passed through the generations. You thought he’d confess at some point now that you’ve been part of the family for so long, but he’s yet to do so. It hurt at first. You’re married! Family! Jade is smooth about the entire thing, promising to tell you one day, easing all of your worries with sugared sentiments. You’re impatient and oh-so-curious, but you force yourself to wait for his sake.

It must be a special secret.

The pot on the stove is an heirloom. It’s old, yet reliable and sturdy. Jade’s mother gifted it to him in the wake of your engagement. Sometimes you think he treasures it more than anything. He’s always hovering near it, having forbidden you from lifting the lid, lest you unintentionally tamper with whatever it is he’s cooking. It smells hearty like meat stew most days, and according to Jade the process is long.

You linger near the stove. A tiny taste wouldn’t hurt, right? After all, Jade cooks things in excess to cure what appears to be an interminable hunger.

But then someone pokes their head inside the shop, calling out a greeting. You move to the front just as Jade returns from the storage room, carrying a crate of vegetables. That taste will have to wait.

Detective Azul Ashengrotto lowers onto a stool at the counter and heaves an exhausted sigh.

“If it isn’t Azul! What brings you here? Tired of the big city?”

Weary hues flick over your face. He manages a smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, (Name). You’re still as energetic as ever.”

“You know it. Every day’s sunny over here.” You rest your elbows on the counter and hum. “Although it’s been awfully slow today.”

“I envy you.” He lifts his hat off of his head to card a hand through tousled hair. Now that you’re looking at him, he seems to have lost some weight. His face is thinner. His eye sockets appear hollow, heavy with shadows. “They’re running me ragged over there. Too many cases. Not enough answers.”

“You ought to take better care of your health.”

“I am—will. I plan to as soon as I wrap up this current case.”

“What’s it about? If you can tell me, that is.”

“A young man went missing near the port. They think he might’ve fallen in and drowned. His wallet was brought up from the seabed, but they haven’t recovered his body yet.”

“How unfortunate… I’m sure his family’s distraught.”

Azul drags a hand down his face and sighs again. “A mess.”

“My, my. It’s been some time since I’ve heard that familiar sigh.”

Lowering his arm, Azul fixes him with a sardonic grin. “How kind of you to join us. I was starting to wonder where you were hiding.”

Jade hums and adjusts his bandana. “Forever confined to the kitchen. My wife is eating for two now.”

A minute ticks by before the realization flashes on Azul’s face. He looks between the both of you, stunned.

“Oh, you’ve—wow. I wasn’t expecting… Ahem. Congratulations.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s talking about his stomach. I’m not pregnant.”

Azul’s countenance shifts through a catalogue of emotions before landing on a scowl. “To think I actually believed you for a moment. I rescind my congratulations.”

“My poor hara, endlessly empty without your sweet sentiments to fill it.”

“And my hara is telling me that you’re going to starve our guest if you keep being silly.” Clicking your tongue at him, you turn your much softer stare on Azul. “The usual, right?”

“Oh, thank you, but I ate before I came. I only intended to stop in and say hello since I was in the area. I really should be leaving now that—”

“Nonsense! You’re already here and Jade has nothing better to do. You should go back on a full stomach.”

“Indeed. A delicious bowl of tonkotsu ramen has your name on it,” Jade adds from his place in the kitchen. “And I do so love busying these idle hands of mine. Should they remain idle, I fear the devil may just find work for them…”

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You look so withered, Zuzu. You’ll feel better after a hot meal. I promise!”

The platonic affection twined through the nickname catches him by surprise. Huffing, his cheeks colored pink, he stuffs his hat on his head to veil the darkening blush. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

“Yay!” You clap your hands together. “I’ll get started on tea.”

You weren’t going to give him much of a choice. Azul probably knows this by now, well-acquainted with your proclivity to play caretaker.

“This winter is particularly brutal,” he comments after you’ve fetched him a cup. It’s more of a change in subject than an observation. He shudders and burrows further into the warmth provided by his coat. “The worst time to die.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Winter is full of mistakes. Drunken mishaps at night, in which the victim slips on ice and falls into the sea… Sometimes we miss them, and so they aren’t found or retrieved until they start to float to the surface after everything thaws. I can’t begin to imagine how painful that must be—to not know where your loved one has disappeared to, only to find them just as the winter frost melts away to usher in spring.”

“Oh, that’s horrible!” You set the kettle down, and Azul watches steamy tendrils curl up towards the ceiling. “Does it ever scare you—the things you find?”

“I’ve seen so much it’s difficult to know what real fear even is.”

“Ah.” You glance over your shoulder at Jade as he opens the lid on the pot of stew. Your eyes drift over towards Azul once more. “You work hard. You deserve a break after your next case.”

“I could sleep forever when that day comes.”

“Retirement isn’t too far, is it, Ojiisan?”

Azul chokes around his breath. “Do I really look so old? Oh, my heart… If these sleepless nights don’t kill me, that assumption certainly will.”

You giggle. “Sorry, sorry. I meant to say you look as spry as ever.”

“You’re too happy to hammer nails into my coffin.”

“I do it with love. It’s our secret ingredient, you know!”

“So I’ve heard.”

The rest of your conversation stalls out. You wipe the counter with a fresh rag in hopes of giving yourself something to do while Azul reads through the newspaper and sips at his tea. You watch him in your peripheral vision. Is he taking care of himself? It doesn’t look like it, but you’ve known Azul long enough to be familiar with his level of responsible efficiency. Maybe this particular case has him in the trenches.

Just how hard are they working him over there?

As his friend you worry. In fact, you worry yourself sick. Every time he visits he’s in poor shape. Though he masks it with confidence, you can see the toll life is taking on him.

“Have you ever wanted to get married, Azul?”

“If I find the right person, sure.”

“But?”

“But, seeing as that has yet to happen, I have no interest in pursuing something that might waste my time and money. Emotions are exhausting, even more so when invested in something like romance. It’s better to put them towards something that will yield solid results. Like work, for example.”

“That outlook is so frigid! Don’t you wanna fall in love?”

“Love isn’t going to crack these cases,” he grumbles at the paper.

Jade appears at the little window cut into the wall. “Someone sounds like a love killer.”

“I’m only being realistic.” Azul scoffs. “Besides, you have no right to speak as a married man.”

“Envy is a wicked vice. I’ll gladly help you overcome it.”

You take the bowl of tonkotsu ramen from Jade and set it in front of Azul. “Okay, enough of that. Let him enjoy his meal in peace.”

“But I haven’t yet had my fill of fun.”

You reach through the horizontal window to gently tug on Jade’s ear. He rumbles with laughter. “Don’t bully the guests.”

“Why, I would never, my dearest.”

Azul watches this back-and-forth with a forlorn longing in his pale blues. Wordlessly, he sinks his soup spoon into the broth and lifts the noodles between his chopsticks. He eats with such zest it makes you wonder if this is his first meal of the day. Sensing your stare, he attempts to pace himself.

You smile sadly. He looks like he needs this.

“As always, it’s delicious,” he says once he’s made a sizable dent in the portion.

Jade basks in the praise. “I’m pleased you enjoy it.”

“But… Well.” The ghost of a frown settles on his weathered features. “The broth tastes different. You must’ve used a new seasoning. Or perhaps this is an expensive cut of pork? Whatever it is, it’s different. Not bad, mind you. I’m sure if it were anyone else it would’ve been difficult to catch.”

“Is this the impressive power of Detective Ashengrotto’s taste buds at work?” you joke, to which Azul flashes you a proud grin that’s more teeth than lip.

“Well, I have been using ingredients with better qualities as of late… I’m not very fond of serving cheap products to honored guests.”

“Isn’t my Jade so considerate? He’s too cute.” You stand up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “He even grows some of the vegetables himself. Green onions and mushrooms and the like.”

“Ah, of course. How could I forget that dubious green thumb of yours?” Azul muses, recalling the time in which Jade served him a new dish in exchange for valid critique. He had conveniently neglected to inform Azul that it contained mushrooms, something he has eaten plenty of in the time that he’s known you and Jade. So many that all varieties have been spoiled for him. “In any case, what’s the secret ingredient? Imported pork? Some sort of flavor that’s seeped in when left to simmer? No, not that… It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t place it!”

Jade chuckles. “There is no secret. It’s just love.”

Azul pokes around the bowl with his chopsticks, his eyes narrowed with an intense scrutiny. “I can recognize every other flavor. The meat, the green onions, the egg, the noodles… And I can parse the broth well enough. There’s just something else—a hint of something I’ve never tasted before. This profile is missing from my gastronomic lexicon.”

You tilt your head, puzzled. “Well, it’s the same broth, isn’t it?”

The both of you turn to Jade for his input. He nods. “My recipe and method haven’t changed.”

“So it’s still the same as before?” Azul’s nose wrinkles. “Strange. I was certain there was a taste of something more…”

Before he can dwell on it any longer, the radio at his hip crackles to life: “Sir, you’re needed at the port. We’ve got something you should see. Over.”

Azul detaches it from his belt and lifts it to his mouth. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t touch anything if you can help it. Out.” Releasing the button, he deflates briefly and then addresses you and Jade next. “It was wonderful seeing you again, but I’m afraid I must cut my visit short.”

“Then we won’t keep you.”

He moves to pull money from his wallet, but you stop him.

“On the house. You deserve it.”

Despite your generous offer, he still places the exact amount on the counter. “You won’t make profit if you’re giving food away for free.”

“Wha—but you’re a friend!”

“That makes it even worse. It’s not very fair to favor me to this extent.”

“Azuuul, don’t be so stubborn! You did this last time, too.”

“I surmise it will be much the same next time he graces us with his presence,” Jade says, eyeing you sympathetically.

“Ugh. Really… If you won’t let us treat you, at least promise you’ll take better care of yourself. No more skipping meals. Get a full eight hours. Prioritize yourself, too, okay?”

Azul starts for the door, so you miss the way he flusters up to his ears. They’re all very valid concerns, of course, but then he’s never been able to swallow the embarrassment that accompanies being unduly fussed over.

“I’ll do what I can,” he says instead and steps outside into the snowy afternoon.

You fold your arms over your chest and huff noisily. “What are we going to do with him? He’s in bad health and he still insists on being difficult. Must he faint before he realizes it?”

Jade emerges from the kitchen, sliding easily behind the counter where you stand. An amused glint shimmers in two-toned eyes. “I suppose we can only hope he’ll fix his bad habits sooner rather than later.”

“If only there were two of me… That way one could tend to the shop alongside you and the other could help him with his work.”

Jade embraces you firmly. With a giggle, you crane your neck to look at him.

“Two is much too troublesome.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have you all to myself.” His lips curve into a practiced pout. “What if (Name) Number Two finds Detective Ashengrotto more desirable than her own husband?”

You reach up to pinch his cheek in light scolding. “You know that would never happen.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“I would never. If I did, that wouldn’t be the real me. I love you too much.” You twirl out of his arms to collect the dirty dishes. “Hey, since he’s no longer here, what was really in Azul’s ramen?”

“I haven’t the faintest inkling, my dear. I used the same ingredients I always do. Perhaps he was tasting something that wasn’t actually there?”

“Maybe… He looked pretty tired, Jade.” You peer at your reflection in the broth. “I wonder if he’ll be okay.”

“I’m sure he will.” Jade follows you into the tiny, compact kitchen. “You do know his penchant for smoking has worsened. I fear his sense of taste may be compromised from so many cigarettes. That, and age. Oh, but these are merely my own theories. He might have caught flavors of a love he’s never known before on those ruined taste buds of his.”

“Ah, right. Because everything you make is filled with love.”

“Not everything. There’s still something I’ve yet to fill with my love.”

He presses himself against you, his hands settling on your waist. You roll your eyes at his very obvious flirting.

“I’m assuming that something is actually a someone?”

“Indeed. And she’s standing right in front of me.”

His arms snake around your front so that you’re effectively trapped between him and the countertop. His hands close around your breasts to grope you through your shirt. You shiver against him when his fingers brush against the precise area of where your nipples are. It’s when he pinches both between his thumb and index that you finally shut the faucet off, surrendering to his touch instead of the dishes piled in the basin.

“At least close the front. What if someone walks in?”

“Unlikely,” he murmurs, his lips hot on your neck. His fingers slip under your shirt to undo the clasp of your bra. “It’s slow today. We can manage.”

You brace yourself at the sink and gasp when he grinds against your ass. “T-Ten minutes.”

“Only ten?”

“Would you prefer five? Your mouth is so smart today.”

“My love, I need only seconds to unravel you. You’re quite easy.”

You bark out a sharp laugh. “I’m not the one with the hard-on, my darling.”

“You’re too alluring, even in uniform. So beautiful, always and forever, my sweet wife.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of dirty dish duty.”

“How cold… You rival the snow outside.”

You shift slightly to face him, offering him an impish grin. “I’d hate for my Jade to freeze. Let’s warm up together, all right?”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

And all the while, your voices filling the kitchen in unison, bodies pressed close, the pot continues to simmer on the stove.

ii. and i am the idiot with the painted face. in the corner, taking up space. but when he walks in, i am loved, i am loved.

“Can I ask you something, Floyd?”

“What’s up?” he answers around a mouthful of udon. A few strands hang out from between his lips, and he slurps them up in a motion so fluid it leaves you impressed. As for the mess he makes… Not so much.

“What’s the secret thing that’s been passed through your family?”

Floyd blinks at you, lost. “The secret thing?”

“It’s some ingredient or flavor or…whatever that Jade says is a family secret. I have no idea what it is. He won’t tell me no matter how many times I ask.”

“Ohhh, you’re talkin’ about Mama’s pot, right? That thing’s been in our family forever. She gave it to Jade cuz I didn’t want it.” Floyd points with his chopsticks, playfully accusatory. “What? You into cookware now? I can getcha somethin’ if ya want.”

“What’s this about cookware?” Jade asks, poking his head inside. He looks warm and comfortable in his nagagi and haori, a pleasant sight for your eyes, but the broom clutched in his hands tells a threatening tale.

Ignoring the fact that he so clearly eavesdropped, you wave him forwards so that you can straighten his scarf. Jade props the broom against the doorway before striding closer. He leans into your touch with a smug smile, which is shamelessly directed at his brother.

“Oh, you’re freezing! Let me fix you a cup of tea. You’ll catch your death if you spend any longer sweeping out there.”

“Thank you, my dear. I fear the chill is rather paralyzing…”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “He’s fine. Nothin’ he can’t handle.”

“I might just die.”

His dramatics don’t faze Floyd, but they do draw a chuckle from you. “We can’t have that.” You duck into the kitchen and return minutes later with a warm cup of chai. “Floyd was just telling me about your mother’s pot.”

“Was he now?”

“Only cuz Shrimpy asked.”

Jade blows at the steamy beverage to cool it before bringing it to his lips for a sampling. He hums his approval. “It’s quite special.”

Floyd slumps against the counter. “Whatever. It’s boring!”

“I suppose there isn’t much to discuss regarding an old pot.”

“Nothing we haven’t already mentioned.”

“Speaking of that… You thinkin’ about closin’ up the shop for the holidays? Pops’s been on my ass. He and Mama want you to visit.”

Jade gazes at you, but you’re already looking at him. “Should we?” you ask. “I’m not opposed. I just know you like running things here.”

“Not like you’re gonna get crazy business on Christmas.”

“No, but there are a fair amount of regulars who might stop by.”

“We should visit your parents, Jade. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, listen to Shrimpy. Mama’s been missin’ ya.” Floyd shovels more noodles in his mouth. “And afterwards we can all do somethin’ fun on New Year’s Eve.”

“That sounds great! Let’s do it!”

“S’no fun spendin’ the holidays workin’ yourself into the ground.”

“Exactly. Your brother makes a good point. What do you say, Jade? We’ll make the trip to see your parents and then come back in time for New Year’s Eve.”

Jade smiles, approving of the idea. “In that case, I should call Mother so she knows when to expect us.” Taking a final sip from his tea, he rises from his seat and disappears into the kitchen. Seconds later, you hear soft footfalls on the floor above.

“You really don’t know?”

Floyd shrugs. “No idea. The only thing that kinda fits the whole secret ingredient vibe is Mama’s pot. That’s been passed through the family. Other than that? I’ve got nothing.”

“Well… Yeah, that’s true. Maybe it really is nothing.”

Floyd laughs. “This sure means a lot to ya.”

“Of course it does! We’ve been married for two decades and I still don’t know what this ‘family secret’ is. Decades, Floyd! Surely he would’ve told me by now.”

“Is it really that important?”

“It is to me.” You gaze sidelong at the broom and inhale a steadying breath. “It feels like I’m not a part of the family if he won’t tell me something as simple as this. You’d think twenty years qualifies you as—”

“Hey, you’re always gonna be family to me.” Floyd’s hand reaches to cover yours. He hesitates and instead grabs another napkin. “Jade’s just bein’ a hard-ass. Gets it from our old man.”

“Do you think this ‘family secret’ is real?”

“Who knows? I’m sure he’ll fess up once he gets tired of playing this game.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my Jade. He’s really too much sometimes.” You shake your head and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, though. That part about me being family. It… It means a lot.”

“It’s the truth.” Floyd sets his chopsticks and chirirenge down, lifting the bowl to drink what’s left of the broth. He whistles, supremely satisfied, and slouches on the stool. “You ever need anything—doesn’t matter what it is or how much trouble you think it might be—just gimme a call. I’ll be there to help.”

“Thanks. A-Again. Truly.”

Floyd flashes you a toothy smile. “Don’t mention it.”

You collect his bowl, intending to bring it to the sink, but Floyd’s next words stop you in your tracks.

“Hey, Jade’s got that pot on, yeah?”

“The pot? Oh, yes, the pot! What about it?”

“Has it been stirred lately? You gotta do that once in a while, right?”

Your nerves, which had previously been pulled taut, smooth out. He’s referring to cooking. Nothing else. Just cooking.

“I’ll do that. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Mhm! Smells yummy, by the way.”

“Doesn’t it? Jade’s food is amazing.”

“Mine’s pretty killer, too. You gotta come over and try some.”

“If you’re cooking for me, you’ll have to cook for Jade as well.” You giggle to yourself as you cross into the kitchen, only for the laughter to stick in your throat.

Jade stands at the stove. He lowers the lid onto the pot and sets the wooden spoon aside. He was so quiet you hardly noticed him. How long has he been there? When did he return from upstairs?

“Oh, good timing! Floyd and I were just saying the pot needed to be stirred.”

Jade smiles and takes Floyd’s empty bowl from you. “Did we all have a collective thought just now?”

“Ooh, like telepathy?”

“Wouldn’t that be shocking? Three-way telepathy.”

You watch Jade set the bowl beside the others in need of washing. “That would be so noisy! Three times as many thoughts… I wouldn’t be able to hear myself think.”

“It’d be like watchin’ a show about the two of you,” Floyd pipes up from the front.

“Thankfully, that will never happen.” Jade guides you back out. You peer over your shoulder at the pot. “What a relief our minds aren’t connected. I don’t think I’d enjoy a stray listening in on our private affairs.”

You slap his arm gently. “Floyd’s not a stray!”

“Might as well be since it feels like he’s kickin’ me to the curb. So mean.”

“Not at all. I’m just making a distinction clear.” Jade’s smile is razored, his words catty. “You’re always welcome to visit so long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hands off the Shrimpy. I gotcha.” Floyd pops up from his seat and stretches. It seems as if all of Jade’s remarks, each born from petty possessiveness, roll off his shoulders. “I’m not gonna steal her from you if that’s what’s got you so worked up.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried.”

Floyd’s once easygoing expression sours. “You’re beggin’ for cement shoes, ain’tcha?”

Jade feigns offense, placing his hands over your ears even though it’s a pointless gesture. “For my own blood to threaten me in front of my sweet pearl… It brings tears to my eyes.”

“All right, all right! I’m goin.’ Geez.” Floyd struts out the door, not wanting to be manually shooed out by Jade and his beloved broom. “And don’t forget about New Year’s Eve!”

You wave farewell until he’s vanished out of sight. Only then do you turn to address your husband. “You ought to be nicer to him. He’s your brother.”

“I was. Very nice, in fact.”

“Really? How?”

“I didn’t charge him for the meal.”

iii. me and my husband, we’re doing better. it’s always been just him and me together. so i bet all i have on that furrowed brow. and at least in this lifetime we’re sticking together. me and my husband, we’re sticking together.

Everyone thought the odds were significantly slimmer than that of younger women—impossible by your standards—but somehow you’re pregnant at forty-four. You suspected it when you missed your period and then, just days prior, woke up with a terrible bout of morning sickness.

Standing in the bathroom, staring at the positive test like it’s a relic from Atlantis, you pinch yourself. Hard. It stings, and with this your disbelief mellows into something astonished.

Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

And this time you’re ready for a family. You’re ready to raise a child. Somewhat. Amidst every positive emotion there's anxiety and fear, and they reign so tyrannical that you almost forget you’re meant to be excited. Tamping down insecurity, you turn the test over in your hands.

I’ve got to tell Jade.

But before that you think back on the timeline in an effort to pinpoint the fateful day. After mapping it out for a brief while, you arrive at what’s possibly the least romantic way to conceive a child. Going at it raw and reckless in the kitchen, bent over a sink filled with dirty dishes and pressed against the wall… At least it was in a place both of you treasure.

Not the worst place, you think. I guess it doesn’t have to be a typical rose-petals-on-the-floor situation.

You’re practically vibrating out of your skin when you tiptoe out of the bathroom. Jade’s already downstairs. You can hear him humming as he works to open the shop. Hastily, you change into your work clothes and stuff the test in your pocket.

Jade’s notorious for his surprises, but it’s never been easy to return the favor. You mull over this facet of his character as you skip down the stairs. How can you shock him with this good news when he makes it so difficult? It’s as if he’s always two steps ahead, expecting the unexpected before it can even happen.

Jade brightens when you walk into the kitchen. He meets you halfway, lifting your hand to his lips. “Good morning. How did you sleep, my pearl?”

You squeeze his hand. “Like the dead.”

He chuckles. “I’m pleased it was so restful.”

You glance at the pot then and an idea sprouts. “Is there anything else that needs to get done? Is the front opened?”

“Just about. I need to prep a few more things here and then—”

“I can do it! It’s just stocking up on what’s low, right? That’s not very hard.”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” You claim the spot he had once been standing in. He was in the process of filling a container with chopped green onions before you came down. “Go on and open the front. I’ve got things handled here.”

“I do so adore you.”

“I adore you more.”

“I adore you most.” He beams and stalks off through the doorway.

Now left to your own devices, you move to the sink and turn on the water to wash your hands. If all goes according to plan, you’ll open the lid, pretend something’s wrong with its contents, and when Jade comes over to investigate you’ll act as if you’ve pulled the positive test from the pot. It’s a harmless surprise. You’re sure he won’t be expecting it, especially since he’s the one who does all of the cooking.

After confirming Jade’s still busy with the front, you creep over to the stove. That infamous pot awaits. You slide your hand into an oven mitt and grab hold of the lid, lifting it slowly. You’re immediately hit with the delicious scent of bone broth, so fragrant it almost has you salivating.

Focus! I can eat after the big reveal.

You open your mouth to call Jade over and then pause.

Has he stirred it yet? It looks a little… No, it’s definitely murky. Is bone broth supposed to be this dark? Maybe I just need to stir it.

You lower the wooden spoon into the broth and, scraping along the sides and bottom, mix expertly. The bones knock into each other from the disturbance, and you inhale deeply. It reminds you of the tonkotsu ramen Azul fancies so much. You could go for a bowl right now.

You’re about to take the spoon out and cover the pot when something floats to the surface. Without meaning to, you recall Azul’s words from last month: Sometimes we miss them, and so they aren’t found or retrieved until they start to float to the surface after everything thaws. Curiously, you scoop the object up onto the spoon. Broth spills over into the pot and then you see it.

A finger.

A human finger.

What the fuck is a finger doing in Jade’s pot?

The nail has been plucked off and the skin is sagging away, turned to pliable mush from sitting in the pot for so long, but it is undoubtedly a finger.

A very real, very human finger.

Bile slithers up your throat with thick, acidic fingers.

Fingers.

There’s another one and then another. Three fingers. You poke around in the broth, dreading what else you might see. You don’t want to find a full set of ten. Anything but that. You count five and that’s all you can stomach before you’re shakily covering the pot with the lid. You set the spoon and oven mitt down next, your mind reeling.

You want to vomit.

You’re about to vomit.

You’re going to—

“(Name)?”

You whirl to look at him. Your husband. He stands in the doorway, a dark look on his face. You can’t describe the emotion, or lack thereof. It’s more of a shadow. An oppressive shadow. An intimidating shadow. A shadow that seems to say: You’ve seen too much.

“J-Jade!” How long has he been standing there? How much does he know? “Sorry. I… I felt sick just now. I think I should…rest a bit more.”

The gloom fades away into perfect placidity. “My, my. That’s not good.” He takes a step towards you and pauses when you jerk away. “Is everything all right?”

“Y-Yes, of course! I’m just…not feeling it today…or something.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” His eyes slide towards the stovetop. “I do so dislike getting into disagreements with you. So to avoid that I’ll ask once and only once. What did you see in the pot?”

Your spine stiffens, straight and still as a board, and you hang your head guiltily. “I… I’m sorry. I saw… W-Well, I don’t want to believe it. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding or a mistake of some kind. It’s just that—um… I… I saw…”

Fingers. Human fingers!

“I saw what I think is y-your secret ingredient. The thing—” your voice cracks, and you swallow thickly to push rising bile back— “Azul tasted that day…” “And that secret ingredient is…”

Tears brim and spill over in silent, horror-struck waterfalls. You risk a glance at your husband, and a wobbly smile pulls your lips apart.

“Love.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade #yandere jade x reader

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katelynnwrites · 1 month

Text

Wondering If I Dodged A Bullet (Or Just Lost The Love Of My Life) | Laura Freigang

warnings: angst and my round and round in circles writing

word count: 2897

summary: laura leaves penn state for frankfurt, another way to put it would be that you and your girlfriend break up because she leaves penn state for frankfurt

a/n: i struggled so hard to complete this and it ended up being far from my best work but it is what it is 🙃

You are eighteen years old when your world changes forever.

It happens in the form of a blonde striker named Laura.

Her eyes captivate you the second you meet them. They’re the same colour as the ocean on a stormy day and possess the same ever shifting qualities.

She’s all confidence on the pitch and yet oh so shy when off it.

When your college coach introduces you to her, you know it is inevitable that you fall for her.

You have all your lucky stars to thank that she falls for you too.

******

It is one month into your relationship with Laura that you learn she loves back scratches.

You discover it entirely by accident, having mindlessly run your fingers across her shirt covered back while she was studying.

The happy sigh she let out had been a soft one but you’d picked up on it immediately.

It’s still early in your relationship but Laura has always been open about her body to you so it’s only with mild hesitation that you tentatively slide your hand up under her shirt, to gently scratch your nails on her bare skin.

The German girl groans immediately. It’s a sound of contentment and you adore the way she melts onto your bed.

She’d come over to study and you suspect, to complain about her upcoming psychology test.

Your girlfriend is awfully smart, being more than capable of keeping up her grades while still being a regular starter for your football team

You suppose that attaining a sports scholarship to study in Penn State should have given you an idea of just how driven she can be.

Laura’s a year older and thus, a year ahead of you. She has way more course material than you and her compromise for making sure she is able to finish her work and still spend time with you, is doing her work in your room. Often with her head in your lap.

You giggle at her protests the moment you stop giving her back scratches.

‘Schatz please don’t stop.’ She begs.

Her ocean coloured eyes have this beseeching look in them, the one that you are never able to refuse.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ You laugh, resuming your previous actions, much to the blonde’s delight.

******

One hundred and twenty one days into dating Laura, you learn that there is nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

Your girlfriend is a big all or nothing individual, that particular characteristic drawing you to her in the first place.

The German forward gives everything she has on the pitch, absolutely one hundred percent of herself regardless of the minute or the opponent.

It just didn’t occur to you that she would bring that into your relationship.

From using the little stove in the dormitory kitchen to make your favourite breakfast on game days, to carrying your bag for you after trainings, Laura is simply committed to you.

You don’t know how else to put it.

She is just an anything for my person kind of girl.

You’re beyond grateful to be her person.

The striker is stepping up her game now, video calling you from her hotel room in Germany, just so she can wish you good morning.

There is a significant time difference between Pennsylvania and Frankfurt but your girlfriend makes it work.

The blonde sets an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night, just to call you for a few minutes right when she knows you will be getting up for your classes.

‘Good morning schatz.’ She whispers, taking in the early morning sun that is lighting up your room when you pick up her call.

‘I’d say good morning too but I think wishing you goodnight makes more sense.’ You tease.

Your girlfriend giggles, ‘I’ll take anything you want to wish me. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’

You’re glad for the poor lighting because Laura’s words make your cheeks turn a bright red.

‘Lau? You did not have to wake up just to say good morning to me. Rest is important for you.’

‘I know. But I wanted to.’ She says softly, adoration filling her voice.

‘Lau?’ You ask again, staring hard at your phone screen to make her out in her hotel room.

It is dark but you manage to, the weak glow of her own phone screen helping you do so.

She is tucked into her sheets, messy blonde hair strewn all over her pillow as she giggles, ‘Yes schatz?’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’ She breathes, a small smile playing on her lips.

Every time Germany has a training camp for their youth teams, Laura flies back to her home country to participate.

Each time, you miss her more.

Her absence is sorely felt and you’ve taken to dropping her off and picking her up at the airport just so you don’t have to miss her any longer than you have to.

‘I’ll see you at the airport in two days?’

‘Count on it.’ You promise and you blow each other a kiss before hanging up.

******

Six months into your relationship with the German player is when you find out that she has a penchant for stealing your clothes.

You have been wondering where certain items of your clothing have disappeared to and unbeknown to you, Laura has been hiding them away in her room.

Hoarding might actually be a more accurate term.

Despite how clingy you can be to your girlfriend and she to you, you don’t spend every night together.

When you do, it’s nearly always in your room because your bed is slightly bigger than hers.

It is a sore point with the blonde and she often jokingly complains that it is unfair of Penn State to give their star forward such a small bed.

Today is one of the few times you are in her room and the first time you are alone in it.

Laura’s late in meeting you and you know your girlfriend well enough to be sure that it’s because she has got a bunch of questions for her lecturer.

So you had used the spare key she had given you when you were just friends, before you’d even started dating, to let yourself into her room because standing outside it alone had been too awkward. You know she won’t mind anyway.

Tired from the day’s early morning practice, you flop down on her bed and dump your bag down at the side of it.

You absentmindedly shift her pillow to get more comfortable, only to find something beside it.

As you stare at the piece of clothing, you realise that it’s one of your missing shirts.

Lying back down, you find another of your missing shirts tucked under the other side of her pillow.

You are very confused now, beginning to wonder if you have been forgetful enough to leave not just one but two of your shirts behind, the last time you stayed over in her dorm room.

But if you were, then why hasn’t the blonde returned the shirts to you? Or said anything?

Thankfully, you hear Laura’s key in the door so you don’t have to worry about it for long.

‘Hey schatz.’ She greets cheerfully, flinging her bag onto the floor carelessly and sprawling herself on top of you.

‘Lau!’ You exclaim and she laughs.

Her hands cup your face gently and she presses a brief kiss onto your lips.

‘Hi.’ You giggle, after readily reciprocating her affectionate gesture.

‘Hi.’ She breathes.

Your girlfriend buries her face into the side of your neck, leaving more intimate kisses there.

You groan at the touch of her lips on your skin. It gives you butterflies inside but you can’t let it distract you now.

‘Laura…Laura?’

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t slow.

‘Why have you got my shirts in your bed? Did I leave them here?’

The German girl freezes.

‘Lau?’ You prompt, reaching out to hold her hand reassuringly.

Her cheeks are rapidly turning a bright pink and she stammers, ‘I-I didn’t mean for you to find out about that…you’re going to think I’m so silly.’

You plant a little kiss on her forehead and gently tease, ‘I already think you’re silly, in the best of ways.’

Laura smiles and then shyly admits, ‘You didn’t leave them here. I kinda stole them from you because I love sleeping with your familiar smell. You always smell so good and something about it just calms me down.’

You stare at her in stunned silence.

Long enough that Laura begins to look uncertain.

Then you blurt out, ‘I love you.’

Your girlfriend lets out a small gasp, her pretty eyes shining as she whispers, ‘I love you too.’

It’s the first ‘I love you’ for the both of you and you cannot put into words how much it means.

Laura seems to be thinking along the same lines because she traces your cheekbone lightly, the action filled with adoration.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ She murmurs, in between peppering your face with kisses.

‘Love you too Laura. So much, even if you do keep stealing my shirts.’

The blonde smiles and confesses, ‘Can’t help it. I bring a bunch with me to every national camp too.’

Before meeting the German girl, you didn’t know it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.

But as it is with Laura, you discover so many firsts.

You hope that you discover many lasts too because you want what you have with her to be forever.

Fervently, you hope that Laura Freigang is the girl you have your last first kiss with.

******

Forty five weeks of dating Laura and you decide that she is the love of your life.

Maybe it’s the good morning and good night kisses, or the way she so obviously cherishes every moment she has with you. It could even be the way she smiles.

The corners of her lips tip upwards and her eyes light up each and every time she does so.

Your girlfriend’s brother says that Laura’s smile is different when it is directed at you. He claims that it is special and you are inclined to agree.

Laura herself is special to you. Boundlessly so.

She has a new found habit of sliding her hand up and under your shirt whenever you fall asleep together.

The blonde striker craves skin to skin contact with you, loves the peace it gives her.

After your girlfriend admits why she keeps your shirts beside her pillow, you offer her a better solution.

Instead of your shirts, she can have you.

Laura takes you up on that immediately and her assigned dorm room practically becomes a storage room for her belongings.

She is always in your room because she spends every night there now.

It’s one of her favourite things to curl up beside you and rhythmically match her breaths to yours.

You are warm and oh so real, unlike the often cold material of your shirts.

The German girl can be possessive and it shows in how she holds you close, even as she sleeps.

Laura presses you into her, her palm resting flat on your back and you love it.

It has you feeling safe and wanted, two things that your girlfriend has never failed to make you feel.

You know that you are right, she is the love of your life.

******

Three hundred and sixty five days of being Laura’s and Laura being yours is when she gives you a necklace for your anniversary.

It is a simple piece of jewellery, a small heart shaped locket hanging on a delicate silver chain.

‘Do you like it?’ She anxiously asks, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

Admiring the gift, you breathe, ‘I love it.’

Gently, you kiss her to convey just how grateful you are. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her hands cupping your face instinctively.

When you pull away, you softly speak, ‘Thank you schatz. Will you help me put it on please?’

The striker grins brightly, ‘Of course.’

She makes quick work of clasping it around your neck as you hold your hair up.

Glancing at the mirror, you play with the locket and Laura prompts, ‘Open it.’

You feel a tiny latch you hadn’t noticed earlier just as she says so.

The locket opens when you press down on it and you gasp as you see the photo of your girlfriend sharing a kiss with you in it.

You pull Laura into a different kiss, deepening it to show her just how much you love her present.

‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’ You murmur, in between the kisses you keep pressing onto her lips.

Laura lets out a pleased sigh, intertwining her fingers with yours and promising, ‘I love you too.’

You squeeze her hand in yours but can’t take your eyes off the locket.

‘Schatz, this is really beautiful.’

Your girlfriend cheekily but honestly admits, ‘Like you.’

Then she laughs at the blush that rapidly appears on your cheeks, affectionately brushing her lips across your forehead.

******

Laura’s locket never leaves its place, around your neck.

Not even when you are nineteen and the blonde, twenty, the two of you unsure where your relationship is going.

The striker has got an offer from 1. FFC Frankfurt and she knows that taking it will be the best move for her career. You know it too.

It is just your fear of what happens now that makes you anxious.

You love your girlfriend, adore her so. She’s only been yours for slightly more than a year but she is the love of your life. You don’t know what you would do without her.

Your day starts with Laura’s good morning kisses, you eat breakfast together, walk each other to classes when able to, study together, go for training sessions with one another and share goodnight kisses when it is time to sleep.

For a lack of a better way to put it, you do not remember how to live your life without her. You don’t you if you can and that may be codependent of you but it is the truth.

From the way the blonde is fidgeting with her rings, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘I-I don’t want to leave you.’ She quietly admits.

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. And I love you too but you have to do this schatz.’

Laura’s voice is pained when she echoes your earlier words, ‘I know.’

Touching your necklace carefully, you begin to unlatch it.

The German girl inhales sharply.

‘Don’t.’

Her ocean coloured eyes are welling with tears when she covers your hands with hers.

‘Keep it. I gave it to you. It’s yours. Please, it’s meant for you.’

‘But Lau-’

Her words are fierce as she insists, ‘No! We’re not over, you and I.’

Your smile is wistful and cautious when you look up at her.

‘Laura you don’t know that. You don’t know if any club will want to take me, let alone one in Germany. The chances of me ending up in Frankfurt with you are slim if at all possible.’

The forward’s frown intensifies, ‘Don’t say that. You don’t know that.’

As much as you want it not to be, your tone is one of resignation, ‘Schatz…’

Your dorm room feels stifling in a way it never has before and even though Laura is sitting right beside you, on your bed, she feels so far away that she might as well already be in Frankfurt.

The blonde is staring at you speechlessly and you take her hand in yours.

Holding her hand is familiar and an intimate gesture…one that you know you will not have for much longer.

‘I love you. No matter how much time passes, part of me is always going to love you. But you need to stop thinking about me. About us…and move on. You are going to do so good with Frankfurt. You are brilliant Lau, please show them exactly how talented you are.’

Your words are barely audible but you mean it. You have never meant anything more. It’s with your whole heart, your breaking heart, that you tell them to the German girl.

Laura’s tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shaking slightly when you break your heart for good with the next two sentences out of your mouth.

‘I’m your biggest fan. That’s never going to change, it will just have to be from a distance now.’

******

Maybe it was stupid of you to let the love of your life go. But you needed to, needed to learn how to live on your own and let her be a star, halfway around the world.

In a way, you dodge a bullet too because as painful as it is, you learn. Without the striker leaving, you never would have learnt.

And for Laura who has been looking sad in all the nicest places and wanting to call your name until you come back home, it pays off.

Because some years later, as crazy as it is, you are in a German cab and telling the driver where the blonde’s place is.

You’re on your way back home to her, with her locket still around your neck.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso #dfb frauen #gerwnt #eintracht frankfurt frauen #katelynnwrites

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heartsforhavik · 4 months

Note

Hey can I request yandere x gn reader, you can choose the chatacter from mk1 please. Where the yandere is obviously obsessed, but in the 'i live you so much, you can do nothing wring, i would die for you' kind of way? They absolutely adore the reader and would do anything. The reader tell them to cook and clean and suddenly they are the perfect house-husband. No matter what

yandere reptile/syzoth x reader hcs

warnings: slight angst, toxic relationship, slight mentions of violence, obsessiveness, ooc syzoth, regular yandere tendencies yk

summary: just some hcs of yandere syzoth being absolutely down bad for (gender neutral) reader

a/n: anon… you literally read my mind we are the same person. i see you i hear you i feel you. anyways my inbox is full of yandere reqs, i’m very sorry to anyone who has had their request sitting in my inbox for a while, i will get to all of them eventually i promise!! also this was kinda sad oopsies

after the loss of his family, syzoth thought there was nothing to live for anymore. sure, he became empress mileena's emissary, but he could be easily replaced. why should he continue to live if he doesn't have anything driving him to get up every morning?

every day he felt as if his life was just a cold, dark void. every day he'd hear empty, half-hearted apologies for his past. every day was the same, as he woke up every morning hoping for something new, something exciting, something to dig him out of the hole his life was in. but no matter how much he longed it would come, it never did. as if it never would.

at least that's what he thought, until he met you.

you were so kind... so helpful... so empathetic. you never hated him for being zaterran, you were so patient, and you were so understanding when you listened to his problems.

and then syzoth became completely attached to you. he saw you as an angel that saved him at the lowest point in his life. it's like he was searching for an answer for why he was still alive, and he was granted one. it was you.

he would do anything for you. you were the love of his life. the second you even call out his name, he's running up to you and asking if you need anything. you filled the empty void in the heart he forgot he had.

syzoth desperately wants you to like him as well. (he knows you probably won't ever love him the same way he loves you, but he can live with that.) he would always watch you carefully and any signs of your likes and dislikes are engraved in his brain. he would mold himself to embody what you desire, in hopes that he can be perfect for you, in hopes that he can gain your love and validation. even if he has to change many features of himself to win your heart forever, then so be it.

his loyalty to you will never falter, even if you do something terrible and unforgivable. he becomes entirely oblivious to any morally ambiguous actions you may commit. he firmly believes that whatever you do must be okay, so he goes along with it without a second thought, defending you from anyone who says otherwise. there are a lot of disgusting things that he would excuse if you were to do it. because you're his beloved, surely you can do no wrong?

sometimes he ends up feeling extremely conflicted with himself if you ever actually did anything unspeakable. because he thought it was wrong all his life, but you just did it. so it must be okay, right?

syzoth often gives you little gifts and trinkets that he randomly finds. if he sees something he think you would like, he would immediately grab it and present it to you like an offering. even though most of them are quite amusing, since he doesn't exactly know what makes something a good gift or not. but he believes it's the thought that counts, so he gives you anything he hopes would please you.

but sometimes, syzoth gets so desperate for your approval and attention, that he unintentionally gets himself hurt. but he doesn't mind. he would risk his life if it meant he got to see you smile at him.

he doesn't have a very clear image of his future with you. just as long as he gets to be with you. whether he does all the work, or he gets to live life right by your side as your equal, or even if he has must be behind you in your shadow. as long as you let him see you. as long as he can be there with you. but he would understand if you had a different view of your future together.

if you want syzoth to become a househusband, he'll learn to cook and clean for you. he may not be good at first, but he's trying. he'll try to find out how to make human food that you can enjoy. he'll practice cleaning until your living space is spotless and his arms fall off if he has to. if you want him to be the breadwinner, he'll take the role very seriously and he'll work as hard as he can so you can enjoy your life and he can come home to you every day. he doesn't care what he has to do. he'll do anything to please you.

syzoth knows better than to think that he is deserving of your love and kindness. the fact that you even let him be in the same vicinity as you is something that he is grateful for every day. even though he knows he isn't worthy of your affection, he still strives to gain it every day. at least a small glance in his direction would set his body on fire and make him feel complete bliss. however, he doesn't care about his feelings since you are still his first priority. so he understands if you wish to not even look at him. it would hurt him and he would sulk about it for a while, but he understands nonetheless.

when it comes to his competition, he does not consider murder. the thought appears in his head, but he ultimately knows that you probably would not be very pleased with him if he were to eliminate anyone pining for your affection in that manner. instead of doing anything about it, he simply becomes insecure. he would ask if you still loved him. he would plan to be even clingier than he usually is, and unintentionally guilt trip you into staying with him. he knows he looks pathetic, but if syzoth had to look like a fool in front of anyone, it would be you.

however, he knows he does not have any control over you. if you wished to get rid of him and move on to someone else, he would willingly accept it. but even though he accepts your judgement, he would end up doing something he can never come back from. so you probably should not leave him.

you became his whole reason for living. he believes he lives to please you. and he gains pleasure from *your* pleasure. if you ever think he is sick of catering to your needs and following you around like a lost puppy, he would be quite offended. he would instantly work towards making sure you never questioned his affections again. he doesn't get his feelings hurt often, but he just wants you to always feel secure in your relationship. so if you doubted him, he would just work harder to please you.

syzoth thinks you are the only thing left in the world that is pure. you are the only person that can truly make him happier than ever after all his pain. he almost became used to the tragedy and loss in his life as if it was his destiny. he was convinced there would no longer be happiness in his life. but you give him a reason to wake up every morning. you are all he thinks about in the afternoon. you are all he wants to see and embrace as he drifts to sleep at night.

he is glad he no longer has to have nightmares every night about all that he lost, and he instead dreams of you. he no longer has to be fearing his life every second of the day, instead he spends that time thinking of how to please you. syzoth loves you very much. he worships you. he appreciates you. no matter what. let him give you his heart, his soul, his body. he's all yours, and you may do whatever you want with him. he is at your service.

#mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #syzoth #syzoth x reader #reptile x reader #reptile mk #mk1 reptile #syzoth mortal kombat #yandere syzoth #sub yandere #yandere mortal kombat

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

Note

nsfw where y/n accidentally eats an aphrodisiac but zoro doesn't understand what's going on and he just wants to train in peace (but in the end he gives in please)

ahh so sorry this took forever, ty ty for your patience 😊💛 i do love disrupting zoro's peace with nonsense & i had fun writing it; i hope you enjoy <3

2.7k words, fem reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+, mdni; a bit of angst, there's some fluff if you pretend that zoro not choking her is fluff, smut shenanigans; feat. zoro being a lil mean (he's a petty bitch when he's jealous im sry), reader being dense and pouty and ridiculous, a wild sanji appears! other cute things like: pussy slapping, oral (f receiving), fingering, yk the vibes.

the last thing you remember, is a small, obnoxious voice in the back of your head saying don’t do it; but the thing is, once you’re told not to do something, you feel that much more inclined to see it all through. it’s sound logic in your opinion, one that you employ whenever — and, more importantly, wherever — you can.

except this time around, you fuck up in a slightly irreparable way.

from an outdated catalog, you order what you assume is an herbal tea to help with sea sickness among other various ailments. and while you can’t exactly pronounce or read most of the names on the ingredients list, you assume that it will be remotely harmless. it’s tea, after all. so, imagine your surprise — once the water is boiled, once the bag has been steeped, once the hot liquid settles in your stomach — when it feels like everything has stared to slow down around you. something shifts inside of you, suddenly it feels as if your body’s been transformed into a gelatinous thing, your organs bouncing against one another, your legs nearly give out when you try to stand up.

naturally, you feel a little off.

it starts again with a small itch underneath your skin; no matter what you do, no matter where you scratch, the itch remains — spreading all over your body, making you wholly too sensitive to touch, which is a fucking shame as your crew mates are always touching one another in some way. you’re not exempt from that, although today you do your best to keep your distance, finding it rather difficult to let anyone’s touch linger for longer than a moment. in the middle of the day, during your quest to avoid your crew mates, you run into sanji — or collide more like — and he reaches out to steady you, as if it’s a regular occurrence for him. which, it is, but that’s not the damn point right now.

you’re in the middle of a crisis.

he grips your shoulders firmly, lips set into a straight line as he checks you over; once he’s satisfied, his playfulness comes back. “where are you running off to?” you choke out a small laugh, one that makes you look less panicked and more like your usual self. he has absolutely no idea that you really do need to run away from him, and you maybe feel a little bad that you’re lying to him — however, in your defense, you’re certain that if you don’t find a way to alleviate that bothersome ache in between your legs, you’ll riot. now, normally, that extreme way of thinking would be cause for concern, but given the circumstances, you’ll forgive yourself for this transgression.

sanji raises a brow at the way you can’t seem to stop fidgeting, your snap your fingers quietly, almost as if you’re trying to ground yourself. he’s unsure why you would feel the need to do that, but he doesn’t press the issue. “i haven’t seen you all day.” his words are harmless, you know that, but he carefully drizzles them onto your skin — slow-moving, honeyed, potentially life-ruining — and they bring an inescapable heat to your body. your self-preservation is practically nonexistent right now; and you know that if you’re not careful, you’ll cross a line and may not survive in the end.

you’re sure this must be some punishment for a crime you committed in a previous life, because it makes absolutely no sense why his hands sliding down your arms makes you want to—

“nowhere,” you blurt out suddenly, cheeks deeply flushed as you shimmy out of his hold, “i’ll… talk to you later.” your words are rushed and jumbled, but you’re beyond caring; you work your legs as fast as you can, hoping sanji won’t think to follow after you. if you had better sense, you wouldn’t have drank the tea without properly investigating it first; but you’re foolish, so very, damn foolish.

something hot rolls over you, making it difficult to think straight; without realizing, your feet take you to the very last person you should be around right now.

everyone knows that when zoro’s training, he’s not to be bothered unless absolutely necessary; yet there you are, disrupting his focus. typical. you pop up behind him breathless, throat dry, chest heaving as if you can’t quite catch your breath — everything about you is clumsy and loud, so he sighs when he turns around to face you.

“what is it?”

you blink slowly and absently lick your lips; his question lingers in the air and circles around you — a solemn vulture, ready to tend to the dead. while normally a lush, vibrant place, your mind goes blank. zoro narrows his eye at you and your newfound silence. it’s suspicious, really — you’re a chatterbox, one that he constantly tells to shut up, albeit this is mostly done out of affection from him — so he’s unsure if this is a trick on your part, but he refuses to participate.

“make it quick, i need to get back to training.”

despite knowing that he really does want you to hurry up, you can’t bring yourself to say anything. not out of fear of upsetting him, but because you’re not sure how he’d react to you telling him the truth. clenching your teeth, you consider your options, rocking a bit on your heels as you look around; again, he thinks you’re being strange and refuses to beat around the damn bush any longer.

“spit it out,” he says gruffly, annoyance buzzing around inside of him. he’s trying to remain as patient as he can, but you’re taking too long and if he lets you have your way, he’ll be standing there all day waiting.

“okay, okay,” you squeak, voice lowering as if you’re afraid of someone hearing you, “there’s something wrong with me.” the words tumble out of your mouth faster than you can manage, making you stutter over them, further confusing the thick-skulled swordsman before you. his frown deepens, and he prompts you to repeat yourself. slowly.

it's his turn to blink at you stupidly. “why would you drink it without knowing what it would do—”

you let out a strangled noise, frustration piling onto your chest the more you talk about this. “i get it, i messed up, can you just help me out?” the flush hasn’t left your cheeks if anything it burns so badly that you refuse to keep eye contact. because the longer you stand near him, the more you struggle with keeping your hands to yourself; the longer he looks at you, the more you want him to see all of you. with a sigh, you explain all of the things that happened to you — in detail, since he insisted and you’re too wound up to fight him on it — which leads him to understand that the tea you drank contained an aphrodisiac of sorts.

why else would the idiot cook even seem remotely interesting to you if that wasn’t the case?

it’s not out of jealousy, he tells himself as he places his swords down carefully; but maybe a part of him likes that you came to him instead of anyone else. he refuses to give it a name and won’t think about this any harder than he already has; he has a feeling that if he lets it fester, it’ll turn him into a lovesick fool — like sanji — and there’s no coming back from that.

somewhere in between his sly smiles and teasing comments, zoro’s presses you against the wall, mouth every bit as sinful as it is disrespectful when he drops a playful kiss on your lips. he’s testing the waters — to see how much you can take before you implode; unfortunately, his experiment is short-lived, you’re already pulling him back, annoyed with his games. you almost tell him to fuck off, but you need him — and you refuse to keep on suffering like this by yourself. your lips are on his rather quickly, soft and eager, tongue flicking against his bottom lip before slipping inside of his mouth.

kissing zoro is a risky endeavor; it’s all-consuming, dizzying, and electrifying at the same damn time. if anyone were to ask you what year or century it was, you wouldn’t have an answer for them. not one that makes any sense, at least. when he slips a hand into your shorts, you turn into putty. your panties soaked, arousal clinging to your skin when he pulls the fabric aside. you should feel mortified at the startled cry you let out when he strokes down your slit, fingers thick and rough, hips rolling forward as you try to tell him to hurry it up. he chuckles at your impatience, which only makes him want to tease you more, but he understands that you’re in a precarious situation — one he’s set on solving right away.

“i know,” he says against your ear, goosebumps prancing along your arms when his fingers rub circles on your pussy, “don’t worry, i’ve got you.” you want to ask him what he means by that, but by the time the question forms in your head and travels to your mouth, zoro’s pulled off your shorts and panties before boldly thrusting his fingers inside of you. with trembling legs, you cling onto his shoulders, press your face against his chest as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your tight hole. the moan you let out is loud enough to rouse the dead —which only encourages zoro to pump his thick fingers faster. he enjoys the way you can’t stop whimpering, and the way that you squeeze around his fingers; that level of desperation arouses him, but he ignores the growing bulge in his pants to take care of you first.

something tells you to keep your voice down, but with how fast zoro’s fingers are fucking you, it’s damn near impossible. and when you place a hand over your mouth to silence yourself, he slaps your pussy in retaliation. you stare at him incredulously, stumbling over your words, hating the way your hips bucked from the force of the slap. zoro, in turn, gives you a dark look, one that fizzles out whatever smartass remark you were ready to give him.

you’re not sure what possesses you, but when he thrusts his fingers back inside of your pussy, thumb rubbing firm circles around your throbbing clit, your head spins, making you say something ridiculous. “s-sanji would’ve nev—” he swallows the rest of your words when he kisses you roughly, teeth tugging on your plump lip. his tongue is commanding, stroking yours with such familiarity that you have to remind yourself that this is real. the kiss is more sensual than necessary, making you forget your point altogether. he knows the only reason why you mentioned the cook is to rile him up, and while it did work, he refuses to let any it fuel his jealousy. he has things to do today, after all.

“if you wanted the damn cook so bad, why did you come to me?” his voice is gravelly and husky, a dangerous combination for you given your current state. you want to tell him that you don’t want sanji, that you want him, but you’re also quite childish and petty at the most inconvenient times. you know, you know, you know. you’ll work on it one day. possibly. he doesn’t expect an answer out of you, especially when he drags his tongue down the length of your neck, nipping and biting your soft skin. you know that once he’s through with you, you won’t be able to face the others for a while.

by the time he inserts a third finger, your skin is littered with dark red marks and his hand is coated in your slick arousal; it trickles slowly with some of your wetness spilling onto his wrist. and since he’s so damn chivalrous, he holds you steady as you thrash against him, hips bucking wildly as you moan his name loudly. you’d forgotten that you were committed to keeping quiet, but with zoro you tend to be louder than necessary. he loves it though; his smirk is proof enough. he pulls his fingers away, much to your disappointment; you pout, grab onto his arms, and ask him why. grinning slyly, he tells you to watch your mouth and kneels before you.

zoro grabs your leg and drapes it over his shoulder, his tongue running flat along your slit, giving your pussy a long lick before dipping inside. you thread your fingers through his short, messy hair, grab the strands roughly, moaning louder, breath coming out in shallow puffs as he devours your pussy. you’ve never known zoro to be a messy eater in general, but the way he messily slurps and licks, flicking his tongue against your clit hard, making you tense and shriek. you’re sure everyone’s heard you by now, but you’ve lost the capacity to care — not while zoro’s eating your pussy like it’s the only meal he’ll consume for a long time. he should probably ease up, and almost considers it until he remembers that you brought up sanji and what he wouldn’t or would do with you.

he slips a finger inside of your needy hole as his tongue circles around your clit. you know you won’t last longer at this rate — it’s a miracle you lasted this long anyway — but he starts sucking on your clit hard and you lose the remainder of your sanity. the orgasm claims most of your life, and your voice is incredibly hoarse by the end of it. zoro works you through the orgasm, finger pumping in and out swiftly, his tongue flicking your clit repeatedly, which only prolongs things. your wetness drips onto his chin, some of it landing on the floor. you’re so embarrassed by it all — by the shameless way you rode his face, by how needy he makes you feel without even trying — and you’d hide your face if zoro wasn’t so busy ruining your life.

“zoro,” you say softly, feeling weak but you still manage to yank on his hair hard enough to catch his attention. when he finally does pull back, he takes a breath and licks your arousal from his lips. he knows that sooner or later he’ll have to take care of his erection — it presses against the front of his pants painfully, and it takes everything in him to just walk away from you — but he’s not done training and he’s wasted enough time as is. you know you shouldn’t ask for more, but the desire to seek him out later grows stronger by the minute. you watch him for a moment, admire the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his arms, until you remember that you’re half-naked and that anyone can come in and see you like that.

your embarrassment nearly triples as you trip over yourself trying to get dressed again; your hands shake and your legs can barely hold you up, but you can’t let him see just how much he affects you. you whisper a soft, thank you before taking off. you still feel his lips and hands on your body, and you feel like you’re being burned alive. despite finally finding relief, a different ache plagues you, crawls around your lower abdomen and throbs so much that you decide to sleep the rest of the day away.

with his back turned, he can pretend that he’s composed, even though he’s everything but — he knows there’s no way he can go back to training after he had his fingers and mouth in your cunt. if he were the poetic sort, he’d say it was the highlight of his month, but thankfully he’s not. still, it doesn’t stop him from looking over his shoulder, watching the way you scurry off, hips swaying, ass even more appealing the longer he stares at it. when you’re finally out of sight, he lets out a defeated sigh, internally berating himself for getting too carried away. if he had more discipline, he’d have been able to resist you more — or, that’s the lie he’s going to tell himself until he starts believing it.

#fic request #one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro smut #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro is a menace 2 society *sues him*

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literary-illuminati · 20 days

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2024 Book Review #16 – The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

I grabbed this on a recommendation I now forget the specifics of, but which I am incredibly glad I listened to. Not a perfect book, but a beautiful one. It really does immerse you in a capital-w Weird setting in a way I haven’t gotten to enjoy in a while, and might the best in years at really weaving it in with a sense of the mundane and the bathetic. Pacing and character development and plot are a little all over the place, but still a great read.

The story follows Fetter, the only child of the Perfect and Kind, anointed messiah of the Path Above. His mother tears his shadow off of him at birth, and forever after he must choose to remain tethered to the earth and not float away into infinity. He is raised from birth as a tool to take vengeance on his father by committing each of his five unforgivable sins – culminating, of course, in holy patricide. His childhood is spent in indoctrination and murders – and oh, he’s also the only one he knows who can see the monstrous devils who share the world with humanity.

So anyway, all that gives him a lot to talk about in therapy.

The actual book follows Fetters’ life as an aimless young adult in the city of Luriat, with its layers of impenetrable government and byzantine system of castes and races inherited from successive colonizers, its regular pogroms and plagues, and its tendency for any doors left closed and unwatched for too long to instantaneously become permanently shut portals to Somewhere. Over the course of the book, he is dragged into a revolutionary conspiracy, learns his father is coming to the city, learns deep metaphysical secrets, is a pretty terrible boyfriend, becomes a suicide bomber, and learns to fly.

To start with the negative, the pacing of the plot is...okay, maybe not bad, but it’s really not trying for the things I’d expect it to. A whole act of the narrative is spent meandering through an absurd purgatory of refugee/prison/quarantine camps Fetter has been consigned to. Lovely writing, thematically important, does eat up a lot of page count which then leads to rest of the book being things happening very quickly one after the other with very little in the way of buildup or reflection. Time is enjoyably spent just detailing the experience of Fetter’s day to day life, but much of the supporting cast feel more like plot (or thematic) devices than characters. The book ends with the protagonist loudly reciting the big lesson he’s learned from the events of the book. So yeah, less than perfect book. Still, I found all the sins very easy to forgive.

As mentioned, this was the first fantasy book I’ve read in a while that felt properly fantastical, like it was created from first principles rather than being the latest in a hoary old lineage stretching back generations. Which might be complete bullshit, I don’t know – not like I’ve read a great deal of other South Asian fantasy to compare it to – but it worked for me. A big part of which is how very modern it is. This is a secondary world with prophets and plague-bearing anti-gods, forgotten timelines whose ghosts leak into the world, and a whole plethora of almost- and not-quite- messiahs. And also one with cellphones and UN-administered refugee camps, labyrinthine bureaucratic politics and scandals over inappropriate allocation of imported medical devices. It all feels like a reflection of the present and its own concerns rather than the thousandth-generation pastiche much of the genre does, I suppose – which is something I really did appreciate.

The world of the book – or, at least, the little slice of it the story is concerned with. There’s clearly grander and stranger things happening off in the distance – is one intensely concerned with caste and class, race and religion and breeding. Luriat is weighed down with the architecture and high culture of successive waves of colonialism, and its elites organize and govern the population according to a syncretic mix of all of their ideological castoffs. Politics – and in particular the use of plague and quarantine on one hand and sectarian pogroms on the other to control the populace – is pretty key to the whole book. It’s also just about entirely beyond Fetter. Not that he’s dumb, just that he’s apolitical, in the sense of treating government like an inexorable and inevitable fact of life to be worked with/around or avoided, not something you can understand or change. Which makes for fun reading as there’s clearly a whole Les Mis thing happening like 0.5 degrees to the left of the book’s plot.

Anyway, I’m still sad Pipra didn’t get more screentime, and the whole ending feels almost comically rushed, but absolutely a worthwhile read.

#book review #the saint of bright doors #vajra chandrasekera #sff

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

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Tourniquet - Chapter Four

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The Things She Carried

She hadn’t seen him in years.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. God, she wanted to so badly. She wanted to run into his arms, bury her face in his chest and fall asleep. She wanted to wake up next to him, count each freckle in the golden light of dawn. She wanted it all, she wanted him.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to track him down, drive across the miles and land at his doorstep. She couldn’t imagine facing him after so long away, couldn’t bear the thought that he’d cast her away like some old trinket destined for the bin.

She couldn’t risk it. She was road-weary and drained to the point of constant pain. Every muscle ached; every bone felt hollow and brittle. She was exhausted in her soul. She was done.

Late at night she would lie awake and stare at whatever ceiling was overhead replaying her life, her choices good and bad.

Maybe things would be different if she had run away with him when they were kids. Maybe she should have crossed the little stream sooner, hidden with him in the tall grass until they could escape and disappear forever. Would life be so different? Would they be together? Alive? Would the world still be turning if not for the sacrifices he’d made?

What about the sacrifices she’d made? What about all the days she spent alone, holding herself as blood seeped through her fingers? All the times she dropped everything to be there for him, all the days she spent worrying, all the nights she spent giving him whatever he needed whenever he needed it. Would anyone even remember her when she was gone? Would he?

Fuck him. He ruined one of the most important moments in her life. He stole her chance to say goodbye. While she reeled from his kiss, tried to make sense of his affection, the only other man she had ever loved had died.

He died and she wasn’t there. He died knowing she wasn’t around.

Fuck him for that. Fuck him for sleepless nights on the phone calming him down, listening to every trial and tribulation of his life. Fuck him for miles spent rushing to his side to wrap her heart around his wounds, staunch the flow.

Fuck him for every kiss.

Fuck him for every touch.

For every fucking moment.

The boy with the green eyes.

Roswell, New Mexico, 2015.

A string of murders of suspicious nature led older residents to announce that the aliens had returned to take revenge on the naysayers and folks there only to make a buck on the sacred landing spot.

Y/N hadn’t been able to resist such a ridiculous scene and spent a week there investigating.

In the end, they were just regular old murders committed by a regular old crazy person. No demons, no ghosts, and certainly no aliens were to be found.

With nowhere else to be, she hung around the desert for a few more days, enjoying the sun and the dry air.

She almost didn’t answer the phone when it rang, but curiosity had brought her to New Mexico in the first place, so there was no reason to deny its hold.

Luckily, it wasn’t him.

It was Sam.

“Well, if it isn’t baby boy Winchester.” She laid back on the hood of her car and kicked up a knee.

“Hey, Y/N.”

He sounded terrible. Lack of sleep or too much stress, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t know Sam as well. Hadn’t studied him as closely, hadn’t learned every tick of speech, the meaning behind every subtle sigh.

Still, he didn’t sound great.

“What’s going on, Sam?”

He hesitated, swallowed hard, shifted the phone to his other ear. “I hate to ask you, I know you’re… Well, you’ve got your own thing going on, but-”

Her eyes closed, her stomach churned.

“Is he OK?” She couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice and she hated it.

Sam cleared his throat. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Shit.”

Last she’d heard through the grapevine, Dean had died, again, and come back as a demon. She didn’t get a call back then, so for Sam to ask for help now- it was bad.

“I think he’d, uh… really like to see you.”

The eleven-hour drive seemed endless, but it gave her time to think.

No matter what she did, he would always be a part of her. No matter how far she ran, tried to hide, he would always win out in the end. It was useless to fight it, stupid to even try.

Sam had given her directions to their place and Y/N stood outside of what looked to be an industrial hobbit hole.

She leaned on her car and stared at the hill. There was still time to turn tail and hit the highway. He’d never even know she had been there.

She fiddled with the chain around her neck, sucked on the metal pendant. It was warmed from her body heat though she always believed it got hotter when he was close.

“Damn it, Y/N/N, just go in…” She groaned and turned away, too scared to go inside. Scared or mad, she didn’t know which.

Just as she put one foot in the car, the big doors opened and Sam appeared.

He was tall and tired, with a shadow on his jaw and worry in his eyes. She wondered vaguely if she had ever seen Sam without that crease in his aura, if he’d ever been truly calm and happy.

“You gonna come in or-”

She sighed and shut the door. “How’d you know I was here?”

He shrugged and gave her a mischievous look. “I may have been tracking your phone.”

“What! Sam…”

He smiled and then pushed at the door, holding it open for her.

“You coming?”

“Well, it’d be stupid to run away now.”

She followed him into the hobbit hole and through another, heavier door. The first room was basically a dark hallway, four steps down from the outer doors and a few paces to the next. The walls were old concrete and the light was dim. She held no hope for nicer things to come.

She was very wrong.

Her little gasp echoed when she walked through the second door. The cave-like entry gave way to an expansive room that took her breath away. A wrought iron balcony met intricate stairs that wound down forever. The room below was set up with a large, map-covered table that glowed, antique computers and machines that looked as if they were sourced from a 1950’s horror movie.

Clasping the rail, Y/N leaned over a bit, trying to comprehend the size of everything but her head hurt. She looked back at Sam and shook her head, eyes wide with awe.

“You live here?”

Sam nodded and shrugged. He smiled at her wild wonder and stood beside her at the railing. “There’s more. It’s, uh- it’s a really big place.”

“Tell me you have a bowling alley or an arcade hiding somewhere in here.”

He laughed. “No, but we do have a tv. Well, I do. In my room.”

Y/N whistled, mockingly impressed. “Wow. Real rockin’ bachelor pad, Sam.”

He licked his lips and looked down at his hands. His knuckles were pale, fingers cold against the metal. “Yeah, well, we don’t get many visitors.”

She covered his hand with hers and squeezed gently. “Wanna show me the rest?”

The Men of Letters Bunker was just as impressive as he made it sound. They toured the halls while Sam explained how they came to be there, speaking candidly about his grandfather’s reappearance and how strange it was to finally have a real place to call home.

She listened to every word, now and then offering a kind word or an interested hum. Her mind was reeling at the enormity of the Bunker. She ran her fingers over the dips between the tiles on the walls, listened carefully to how Sam’s voice echoed off of the cathedral ceilings and back again. She counted their steps, tried to construct a map in her mind so that she could find her way back to the front door, but the path was full of turns and every corridor looked the same as the last. The numbers on the doors changed, however, but they weren’t in any order that she could define.

They stopped in front of door number eleven, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. His gaze narrowed on the gap between the door and the jam. The light inside was on, but he knew Dean wasn’t there.

“This is his room?” she asked, wanting to push her way inside but afraid to pry.

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

She placed her hand on the door and closed her eyes. She wanted to go in and wait for him, be laid out on the bed like some porn star when he walked in, but she knew better.

The kitchen was impressive in an old restaurant that had never been upgraded kinda way, but the pantry was pitiful. Thankfully, there were a few eggs in the fridge and a half of a loaf of white bread on the shelf. Sam left her to it and she got to work making an utter mess of the counter and stove.

She didn’t expect him back soon and he hadn’t expected to see her at all.

“Y/N?”

Her entire being tensed when she heard his voice and she took a breath, closed her eyes, and turned around. Spatula dripping in her hand, she screwed up a smile.

“Surprise.”

Every emotion imaginable flowed over his freckled face and Y/N waited for him to process before saying another word. Green eyes worked her over, lingering on the smudge on her cheek and the mess on her shirt.

Finally, he smiled.

“Nice surprise.”

Her body relaxed. “Is it?”

“Of course.”

Dean rushed forward, rounding the giant stainless steel island, and scooped her up into a hug.

Relief trickled down her spine and she wrapped her arms around him, pushed her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like whiskey and sleepless nights.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He whispered into her shoulder and held on a little tighter.

He was big and strong, solid and safe. She melted into him; listened for the comforting, steady beat of his heart.

The necklace burned into her chest and she smiled.

After a minute, she pushed at his shoulders but he refused to let her go.

“You’re gonna make me burn your toast!”

He stood up straight and held her arms. “Toast? You’re making a real big mess for toast.”

She squirmed out of his grip and turned back to the stove. “It’s French.”

They sat at the little table in the corner and drowned the snack in maple syrup and butter.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at him. His face was thin; his beard slowly sneaking out of captivity. His eyes were dark, lined with red, and he held himself differently, as if every second was painful, as if he was having trouble sitting still.

He was staring just as hard, shocked that she was there after being gone for so long.

“Your hair’s different,” he said around a mouthful of French toast.

She cocked her head and ran a hand through her locks. “I guess,” she laughed. “It’s been a while since I cut it. Probably should.”

Dean shook his head gently. “Nah. I like it.”

It wasn’t even really a compliment but she took it as one. Her stomach flipped and she hated herself for enjoying such a tiny amount of attention. She was older now, wiser, stronger. She didn’t need his approval or his affection.

“Thanks.”

“This is…nice. Thank you for cooking.”

Y/N laughed and choked down a corner. “It’s terrible and you know it.”

Dean shrugged and took another forkful to his lips. “It ain’t that bad.” He shoveled it in and then cringed, plucked a crunchy bit from his tongue. “I… think there’s shell in this one.”

She grinned. “I’m surprised there’s not more, actually. You know I’m a shitty cook.”

He laughed. “Always have been.”

“It’s kinda my thing.”

A strange moment passed between them like an autumn breeze. The air was warm but the wind was too harsh, chilling their cheeks. Y/N looked away, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands up the sides. Dean swallowed and sat back; knife and fork in his fists beside the plate.

“So, how ya been?”

Y/N looked around, pretending to inspect the kitchen walls, but only trying to buy herself time to think up an answer.

“Oh, you know me, Dean. Another day, another highway, another monster to kill.”

He licked a drop of syrup from his lip. “Musta been busy.”

She nodded. “Yeah, pretty busy.”

“Too busy to answer a text? Pick up the phone now and then?”

Her guts churned. “Dean, it’s not like that…”

He slumped forward, set his forearms on the table. “Oh, it’s like that. You vanished, Y/N/N.”

His tone was biting and she shivered.

“Dean-”

“You just took off. No goodbye, nothing.”

Anger was brewing inside and her leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. “Dean.”

“We burned him. Without you.”

Something inside of her shattered. The words cut through her like a scythe; his tone burned like salt in the sliced flesh. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and tried to push it all aside.

“You left,” he seethed, upper lip trembling and exposing his tiny canine teeth. She always thought they looked like fangs, always loved the way they scraped across her throat. “We burned him and you weren’t there. I- we needed you and you left. You ran away to God knows where and that was it. We needed you, Y/N. I… I needed you.”

With fists balled, she stood up, spun away from the table. She bit her tongue so hard she was sure her mouth would fill with blood.

Dean laughed sarcastically. “Yeah. Walk away again. That’s awesome.”

Her spine twitched. Nails dug into her palms.

She tasted blood.

“So fucking good at walking away when people need you.”

She snapped.

“Excuse me?”

Her spin around was so fast, her hands slammed onto the table so hard that Dean startled and dropped his utensils. Unconsciously, he sat back, putting as much distance between him and the lioness he’d just unleashed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her words curled but there was no question. She was giving him a speck of a chance to apologize before she truly exploded. “Well… are you?”

Dean sucked his teeth, crossed his arms, sat forward. He met her gaze head on. His nostrils flared.

“You left,” he said again, slowly, venomously.

Y/N pulled in a deep breath but instead of calming her, it only added to the fire. “You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean.”

He shook his head, confused. “Huh?”

“You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean,” she said again, injecting as much slashing accusation into her voice as she could. “You never do. You expect me to show up whenever you want me, drop whatever I’m doing to come meet you somewhere so you can fuck your frustrations out on me then kick me out of bed in the morning. Do you know how many bruises I have from tripping over the curb when you drive away? How many nights I’ve stayed awake worrying about you? Praying for you? Not to mention all the nights I had to stay on the phone with you while you blubbered on about this and that, and your brother, and your angel, and your destiny. Do you know how much of my life I’ve spent waiting on a fucking phone call from you? How many days I’ve wasted just hoping you’d ask to see me? You can’t imagine it. You wouldn’t. Because you don’t care.”

Anger and guilt flooded his face. He swung his legs around from under the table and stood up, towering over her with a puffed chest and searing eyes.

“You think I don’t care about you?” He hunched his shoulders, leaning down to let it all sink in. “Is that really what you think?”

She took a step closer. She wouldn’t back down no matter his size or the angry fire pulsing off of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah, Dean,” she said sharply. “It is. Because it’s fucking true. You don’t give a shit about me, you never have. I’m just a goddamned Band-Aid for you. Something you put on when you’ve got a booboo and then rip off and toss away. And the one time I needed you. The one fucking time…”

Dean was seeing red; his blood was boiling and brightening his pallid face.

“When? When the fuck did you need me so badly!”

She grit her teeth, showed her fangs for once. “He was my father, Dean.”

He scoffed. “No. He wasn’t.”

“Fuck you for saying that! He was my father the same as, if not more so than he was yours and he died while I was in the dark wondering how I could help you. You! You fucked me up in that hospital room and then you left me alone to deal with it. And he died while I was in there! He died and I wasn’t there because I was dealing with you!”

Dean straightened, but he didn’t move to speak. He only absorbed her ire and let it burn inside of him.

“Always dealing with you! My whole goddamned life revolves around Dean Winchester! And you know what I got for all the care and time and worry I poured into you? Nothing. I get fucking nothing. I have never been so lost as when he died and you… You didn’t ask me to stay. Didn’t… didn’t check on me. The only calls I got were from you begging me to help with Sam and to meet you in Oswego for a fucking booty call. That’s all I am to you. I’m your fucking whore.”

He huffed, chewed his lip. “That is not true!”

She wouldn’t stop, couldn’t. The simple act of raising her voice, of confronting him after everything had opened a tap that she couldn’t close.

“And you spent a whole goddamned fucking year with her. A year! I didn’t even know if you were alive, dead, nothing. You promised to call me. You swore. And nothing. You went to her. You- did you even think of me? Did you even think, ‘oh, maybe I’ll go be with Y/N for a while’? Well? Did you?”

His eyes closed. “No, Y/N. I didn’t.”

“I have given you years of my life and you’ve just… Fuck, I don’t even know if you take me for granted or if you don’t even notice if I’m around or not. I honestly don’t know.”

She turned away, exhausted and aching.

She couldn’t see the way he rubbed at the curse on his arm, didn’t notice the rage glowing in his eyes. She didn’t feel the danger because she never felt it around him. She could scream all she wanted, but she knew Dean wouldn’t hurt her.

“If you hate me so goddamn much, why are you even here? Huh? What, did Sammy call you? Tell you I wasn’t doin’ so well?”

Each word snapped at her like kitchen shears and Y/N spun back around.

“Fuck you, Dean.”

As tears fell, she raised her right hand, ready to slap him hard; show him she wasn’t fooling around.

The Mark swelled on his arm and shot demonic power into his veins.

Dean grabbed her wrist before she made contact with his cheek and took two steps forward, forcing her backwards into the wall. He slammed her hand onto the plaster and followed suit with her left hand. She gasped, scared but daring him, and he sneered down at her.

“Don’t. Fucking. Ever. Hit me.”

The Mark glowed beside her head and she looked from it to him, stuck and devastated.

“Do you hear me!”

Strength pulsed through him and Dean lifted her away from the wall only to crush her back into it.

Her eyes blurred, her head ached; her ears rang.

“Dean-”

“You think you know anything about me? You don’t know what I’ve been through! You haven’t been around!”

His grip tightened on her wrists and she felt the bone in the right twist.

“Dean! You’re hurting me!”

It seemed he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t let the anger dim. His breath came out in heavy pants through tight lips and clenched teeth; his eyes were like lasers targeting her arteries and setting him up for the kill.

“Dean!”

Another tear trekked down her cheek and it caught his attention.

Dean blinked quickly, clearing his head, and then backed away. He dropped her hands and covered his face, turned his back on her.

Y/N couldn’t move.

Silence filled the room and their heads. Guilt ravaged their bodies.

Her knees gave out and she slid down the wall, slumped to the floor.

When she could finally speak, her voice was small and pathetic and she hated herself even more.

“I… I’m sorry, Dean.”

Calmer now, Dean turned to find her in a heap on the floor and sank down as well. “Don’t be sorry, Y/N/N. I… fuck. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and sat up straight, kicked her knees up to her chest.

He crawled to her, tried to lay a hand on her knee, but she flinched away.

“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N let out a hard breath and let her shoulders fall. She trusted him. She didn’t trust that thing on his arm.

She nodded toward it. “Is it really bad?”

He rolled up his sleeve and showed off his brand. Curious and horrified, she unfurled herself and leaned in, running a careful finger across the Mark. The flesh was hot, the skin raised and rough. She covered it with her hand and looked up into his face.

“I can’t take it much more,” he whispered. “It’s gonna take over and I don’t wanna go back there.”

Her heart hurt. “You don’t have to let it take you. You’re strong. You’re so fucking strong, Dean. So brave. So good.”

He smiled softly and bent over; kissed her hand.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

She sniffed back the tears and reached for him.

“I coulda just kept my mouth shut,” she confessed.

Dean lay his head on her shoulder and tugged her close. “No. You shouldn’t have to. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“You don’t have to be better, Dean.” She turned inwards and pressed her lips to his ear. “You just have to be you.”

His arms closed a little tighter, he breathed a little slower.

“I really don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She sighed and rubbed at the nape of his neck.

“Shut up, Dean.”

Tourniquet Tags:

@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303 @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean/reader #dean/you #angst #series #tourniquet

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haileyywrites · 1 year

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-> Some time ago a certain wanderer made his way to Sumeru where he fell in love and settled down in a way, but his past comes calling and he chose to answer...

-> Heavy spoilers for 3.3 Archon Quest!! This fic does not fully follow the story and events of the actual game! Reader has no gender! Some sad undertones but mostly fluffy!

He had done it. He had managed to erase himself from history, yet it barely if at all changed anything. He still experienced suffering and saw death come to claim those he cared about, yet in the end - he didn't regret it. He got to remember them fondly instead of with hatred and with memories of betrayal. Even if it wasn't technically him but another incarnation of him, another part of him. They were still his memories.

The only regrettable thing was you. The Wanderer had met you some time ago in Sumeru after the kind merchant saved him from the storm. As a thank you he would work for him while reluctantly accepting small amounts of mora as payment. You weren't particularly outstanding amongst other citizens of Sumeru, yet you still caught his attention everytime you came to the Grand Bazaar. Whether it was for shopping or to watch the theater, you would often be spending time there.

You would even come there to eat lunch on your free time or during your lunch breaks, so you were a regular sight to him. He wasn't outright looking for you or at you, but he noticed these things. Eventually he worked up the courage to approach you and you accepted his company with a bright smile. For a moment he could have sworn he felt a heart beating in his chest...

It took a long time for him to trust you enough to fully let you in and be fully himself, but you waited patiently for him and encouraged him to do so at his own pace. Somehow you never pushed him past his boundaries or caused him to hesitate trusting you once he started to. He was truly grateful to have met you, to have loved you and to have you love him in return - even if just briefly. Every part of life just became better and happier with you by his side.

But Wanderer was not the only him or the "true" him. He wasn't even sure who he truly was or what the "true" him was supposed to be like anymore, but that was for him to figure out. You had fallen in love with Wanderer and not this incarnation him, it would be cruel to hide his true self or the truth itself from you and pretend nothing had changed when infact - everything had changed. The Wanderer had even made the traveler promise to make himself tell the truth to you.

But he kept backing out from it... How could he tell you of all people he was a terrible person who tried and almost succeeded in usurping Sumeru from its rightful deity - the Archon you loved and worshipped. Not to mention all the countless atrocities he committed while he was one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. He physically felt unable to make himself tell you the truth despite his frankness and own need for the cold hard truth. He just didn't want to break your heart...

You had made him soft - despite never actually knowing him, but he knew you. The memories he shared with you were not his to keep, but he was glad he could. He didn't have many happy memories, but those you shared with the Wanderer were nice... Would your perspective change about him once you knew the truth? Of course it would, and some part of him didn't want that. He had been selfish for long time now, but never quite this selfish.

He didn't want you to stop loving him - no matter if it was just a version of him that didn't exist anymore you had fallen for. He didn't want you to stop smiling at him the way you did or stop looking at him with those bright and starry eyes of yours. But, you deserved nothing but the truth about him, no matter how ugly the truth truly was. Perhaps it would be better if you grew to hate or resent him...

“Come on, you can't keep staring at them from afar like this forever! You have to tell them the truth!” Paimon sighed in frustration.

It had been quite a few days since he had gained his memories back, yet he still hadn't made it even close to telling you about it. You were surely torn with worry for him, it had been a normal day before the traveler had shown up with something important to show him - he didn't have time to write a note for you then. You had been pacing around inside and outside for the last few days he'd been gone. He doubted the truth would ease your hurt, but he had to tell it.

“I know! Quit bugging me! I'd hate to disappoint Kusanali by doing something to make you shut up.” He growled at her.

“Eek!” Paimon quickly flew behind the traveler for protection.

“She's right you know. You need to do it for them.” The traveler motioned towards you.

Wanderer glared at them before huffing and getting up, “I will.”

His steps were quick and confident, yet the closer he got the less so they became. His fingers began to fidget with his clothing in an attempt to calm his ever growing nerves as a nervous sweat began dripping down his forehead. He was glad you were looking elsewhere as he walked towards you, he didn't know what he would do if you were looking at him right now... Yet as soon as that thought entered his head you turned to face him.

Relief washed over your features as you spotted the familiar foreigly clothed man with the large hat. You began hurrying towards him as a smile formed on your face. He stopped in his tracks yet you ran into his arms and held him tightly in your warm embrace. His arms remained in the air, unsure whether he should hold you back or push you away - he could barely think when you held him so warmly and lovingly. He simply let you hug him until you eventually chose let go.

“Where have you been? I've been worried sick for you! You just didn't return home and you left no note or anything to warn me...” Tears had formed in your eyes by now.

He could do nothing but watch as more and more gathered in them as you looked at him with such sad eyes and a worried expression. He knew what the Wanderer you knew would have done - he would have caressed your face and wiped your tears while telling you that everything will be okay. He longed to do the same, but he didn't deserve to do that to you... He was only here to tell you the truth.

“It's complicated, but please hear me out.” His face was serious, which made you reflect it.

“Is everything okay?” You asked.

“I'm... not sure.” He tried looking away from your worried expression, but you stopped him by gently cupping his cheek.

“I'm here for you. Whatever this is about, we'll work through this.” Your words were so genuine it hurt him even more to have to tell you the truth.

He didn't even know where to start... There was so much that needed to be said, that needed to be told to you. He wanted to curse himself for choosing to accept his real memories back - especially knowing it would mean that version of him would be gone forever and that meant he would forever lose you. What a fool. Also for the fact that he left the burden of telling you about it to him.

Your hand lowered from his cheek to intertwine your fingers with his as you waited patiently for him to start. Your presence radiated comfort and holding your hand helpped ground him to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath before beginning to tell you the truth about him and everything he did - every last relevant detail included. Nothing was sugarcoated or twisted to white lies to make himself seem better than he was. No, you got the cold hard truth.

You remained mostly stoick while he talked, but your hand would occasionally squeeze his in reassurance. Your eyes held sympathy for him the times he had suffered and for the people he had made suffer, but you didn't say a word as you continued to listen until he had finished. Even when he did, you continued to sit by his side with your hand in his. The sun had begun painting the horizon red while setting when he was done telling you everything.

“And that's about it...” He sighed, it was refreshing in a way.

“I see...” You simply replied.

The silence that followed was incredibly awkward, but you still holding his hand felt very comforting. You were deep in thought as you began processing and going through everything you had just been told. As crazy and unbelievable as it sounded, you did believe every word he had said. Somehow it made sense in a strange and otherwise unexplainable way. Your heart grieved silently knowing this person was technically not the man you had fallen in love with and that he was forever gone, but you physically couldn't as here he was before you in the flesh...

“I believe you. Thank you for telling me this, thank you for trusting me.” You smiled weakly.

“This wasn't about trust. He wanted you to know the truth and you deserve to.” He curtly responded.

“Even still. It would have been quite easy to just forget about me and not bother telling me at all, yet you did.” He wasn't that different from him after all...

He hummed in response, but did not say anything. His eyes fell onto your still joined hands, his thumb began running over your knuckles as if out of instinct. He didn't want to let go of your hand, it felt so right in his somehow. He turned his gaze towards the setting sun in the horizon as his mind flooded with questions about the future. What was next then? What was he supposed to do now? Was this the last time he would see or talk to you? Would you even want to see or talk to him again? The mere thought felt...

“So, will you be needing a friend?” You smiled at him.

“Me? A friend?” He scoffed and turned to look at you.

“Yes. Wanderer thought you were worth it to lose himself completely, so I'd like to know what kind of person you are.” You stared directly into his beautiful eyes that widened slightly.

There was another silence, but this time it was him who was processing your words as you patiently waited for his reply. It seems you were a fool as well then. After everything he told you, including every terrible detail or deed - you still sat beside him smiling while holding his hand in yours and asking to be his friend... But perhaps what he needed in his life right now was a fool like you. Though he didn't deserve you the least bit, he would still accept your offer.

“Fine.” His cheeks heated up into a light red as he squeezed your hand like you had done to him before.

Your smile only grew from his words, “So, do you have a name I could call you by?”

A/N: I can't get over this update - it's everything! I have been working in this ever since a played through it and I hope this doesn't dissapoint! Likes and or reblogs are always appreciated <3

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quaranmine · 5 months

Text

ranking fire lookouts i visited last week

i didn't expect to see like...any on this trip. most of them snuck up on me LOL and yet we were able to find FIVE of them! who knew all I had to do was go to national forests in a different state? here there are ranked from highest to lowest

1. The Probable Federal Crime

this one was the coolest! i climbed this one! It's 100 ft with a 7'x7' cab up top. It was in service until 1987 but it still serves as a radio repeater. There are several buildings at the bottom, one of which clearly had the sound of machinery behind the door. It had signs of recent maintenance even though it has been decomissioned. It had spectacular views, with no towns or human settlements visible in any direction:

2. Rich Mountain Lookout

I could have broken into this one but I did not. I withheld my desire to commit a crime. My dad mocked me for not crawling under the fence LOL. This one has a proper catwalk and was possibly a live-in one. A whole family lived here in the 20s when it was first built, but this version is a replacement from the 50s, so I have no idea what it looked like before them. It is approximately the height AND style I have been imagining in my AU so I was delighted to see it. It is slightly taller than the one in the Firewatch game, but a remarkably similar design other than being steel instead of wood.

3. Devil's Knob Lookout

Not in good repair at all. Missing the ladder at the bottom and the final flight of stairs. We saw two deer. My dad climbed it anyway because he's an idiot

4. The Occupied State One

we spotted this one from the main road and turned down the next side road to hunt it down. We ended up driving along the wildest road of FANCY vacation houses, mostly still under construction. A few of these houses had the steepest driveways I've ever encountered in my entire life. Eventually we found the correct turn off for the lookout, drove straight past the no trespassing sign with confidence, only to immediately turn around because there was a guy there despite it being the holiday. Later I learned this is one of the few still in operation in the state. Unsure why it might be manned in November since there is a lower risk of wildfire in fall/winter, but it is in operation so maybe that guy was working.

Bonus:

the tire shop pulled this out of our tire the next day after we went poking around the vacation home construction site. miraculously this did not ruin the tire and they didn't charge us for a patch!

5. Supposed Former State Forestry Lookout

This one has basically no workspace up top and I'm interested (mildly suspicious) of its history since it seemed out of the ordinary. Clearly it was used as an observation tower but as a regular, everyday job? unclear

Also, I had to break into this one too. I jumped the fence. This was because the quarter-fed turnstile did not work. It was $1 per person but we put $4 into it and it only started turning once. Then it stopped turning immediately and briefly trapped me in the middle of that metal cage. Fortunately it turns freely in the opposite direction so I could escape and was not, in fact, trapped forever in its bars. Although the moment it stopped did put the fear of God in me a little before I realize I could still get out. Thus I did not feel bad for climbing the fence. We actually overpaid.

Bonus:

devil's head lookout, you are still #1 in my heart

#i need a tag for when i'm just being insane about a particular topic #i guess i'll throw it in my #hc_firewatch_au #tag even though it's not directly related. it's. research i suppose LOL

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Penalty Box— Quinn Hughes Edition (Part Fifteen)

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous: fourteen

next: sixteen

i high key hate this one but i might be overthinking it

FRIDAY, MARCH 31ST

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, and 8,749 others

yourusername welcome to my postgames penalty box update show: quinny edition! my favorite hughes and yours (not sorry jack) (a little sorry lukey moosey) is now at five games since his last penalty!

during quinn’s 30:16 minutes of ice time (don’t worry, we’re napping next time i see him) he got one assist on petey’s goal and kicked some serious butt tonight in my opinion!! all without a penalty! he did, however, draw a penalty against the flames’ andrew mangiapane because he was TRIPPED!! rip quinny in that second :( but he was resurrected to continue with his over 30 minute night! (pretty sure he died again after)

before i go, i want to call attention to the fact that tonight was the canucks’ yearly pride night! their jerseys were beautiful and each patch was extremely thought out, and i loved the addition of the butterflies for mental health! quinn’s words about the night were something that truly lit a flame in the hearts of the lgbtq+ community, and that’s something that won’t be forgotten.

i love you with everything i have, quinn💙

p.s. congrats to aidan mcdonough on his first nhl career goal!! your smile is contagious, kid! never stop!

tagged _quinnhughes and amcdonough

view all 377 comments

_quinnhughes this end to this one was sweet, i have to admit. i love you, too, my favorite (honorary) hughes!

yourusername REALLY?!?! I HAVE TO GET A TROPHY MADE!!! THIS IS SUCH AND HONOR

trevorzegras she took my laptop to make a trophy and this is your fault, quintin

jackhughes i’m telling mom!

elblue6 @/jackhughes y/n is also my favorite hughes! ❤️

yourusername @/elblue6 TWO TROPHIES!!!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras i’m so sorry

user1 thank you quinn! love, a gay💙

trevorzegras i can’t be mean on pride night— congratulations, quinn on five games since your last penalty! i’ll return to my regular programming sunday

yourusername that’s my boy!! i love you!!

_quinnhughes (always) thanks, z!

trevorzegras @/yourusername your best friend has called you out

yourusername I’M SO SORRY, Z BABY! I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS

trevorzegras @/yourusername i love you, forever🧡

user2 my favorite ally

user3 heartbreaking loss. homophobic at best.

amcdonough thank you, y/n! quinn talks very highly of you so i can’t wait to meet you!

yourusername you’re so very welcome, kiddo<3 (@_quinnhughes you SAP)

_quinnhughes @/yourusername i have a notes page of the things you say about all of us when you’re clingy drunk

jackhughes @_quinnhughes i think that makes you more of a sap

amcdonough i’m so sorry

yourusername @/amcdonough welcome to the shit show

user4 we lost hronek due to injury and quinn is back to unreasonable ice times😭

jackhughes THAT’S MY FAVORITE BIG BROTHER! (am i at least your favorite soulmate?)

yourusername (no)

_quinnhughes you’re my favorite middle child!

jackhughes @_quinnhughes what an honor!

jackhughes @/yourusername (ihy)

yourusername @/jackhughes (good <3)

lhughes_06 THAT’S MY FAVORITE BIG BROTHER!! (am i at least your favorite son?)

yourusername (yes but don’t tell ethan or z)

trevorzegras (i’m okay with this)

jackhughes HEY!

_quinnhughes thanks moose!

edwards.73 (HEY!)

yourusername (@/edwards.73 you’re my favorite future devil!)

lhughes_06 (HEY!)

yourusername i think i’ve made some mistakes

_quinnhughes @/yourusername you think? i know.

user5 i support huggy right, but more importantly i support huggy wrongs! but he didn’t commit wrongs, so i have to support petey and tito’s!

edwards.73 I WANNA BE MORE INVOLVED!! CONGRATS QUINN ON FIVE GAMES WITHOUT A PENALTY!

_quinnhughes thank you, eddy!

lhughes_06 fomo alert

yourusername @/lhughes_06 cringey alert

jackhughes welcome to the shit show, son!

edwards.73 @/jackhughes thanks, dad!

user6 #quinnforcaptain

#penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes insta edit #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #jack hughes #vancouver canucks #ethan edwards #hughes brothers #umich #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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hekateinhell · 16 days

Note

Having Marius on Monday is perfect for his personality. I like the idea of Marius being a straight laced 'every single Monday' like clockwork (I almost typed cock work-) type of regular. Have you considered putting Santino on Sunday? :3 A little bit of religious play, Armand calls him Father and he binds his hands with a reinforced rosary, mayhaps? Edging? Because orgasms are sinful? Some soft humiliation because Armand is into his punishments when he ought to be crying/repenting?

Just an idea!

I love the idea so far. If you have any other thoughts on this, I'd love to hear whatever else you're adding.

asksjshs COCK WORK.

yes, yes he is both those things. and yeah that's exactly how I was picturing it! he's meticulous in his routine; he is always there at 4:30pm on the dot. he doesn't know either or not armand sees anyone else on mondays but he's committed to being his first customer of the week, every week!

I did think about santino sundays tbh lol both for the religious angle and the alliteration, but I really wanted to end armand's work week with daniel 🥺

there will definitely be religious kink all up in there with santino though! the flagellation and deprivation were inspired by the more culty catholic organizations that tend to go with the extreme stuff like the "mortification of the flesh" 🫢 it sounds kinky but uh... it's really quite something irl.

SANTINO HAVING A HARD ON FOR ARMAND'S TEARS THOUGH??? anon you're a visionary oh my god I'm- 🫢🥹🥵🫣 it's so CoD flavored! it's perfect!

so far I don't really have much else yet, I'm thinking riccardo and denis are armand's coworkers but they won't have a huge presence here. and of course allesandra is the manager!

thank you I'm so glad you like the idea! I've been wanting to write it forever, but there's a lot of aspects about it that I find intimidating because like certain characters I've never written before and is this really the way I want to start? 😅 but I do love rambling about fic on main and workshopping some stuff as a community, plus I think I speak for more than just myself when I say that as a fic writer it's super motivating to actually go and write when you know that people are already interested in your silly little ideas! 🤧💕

#excellent santino food where is aunteat #you ask and hekate answers #armand/marius #armand/santino #vc

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fbfh · 1 year

Text

Tate Langdon dating hcs

wc: 1.4k

warnings/content: discussions of yandere behavior and how tate differs from that, general obsessive/codependant tendancies bc it's tate, optional creative arts!reader

pairing: Tate x gn reader (no pronouns/gendered descriptions)

a/n: tate is a babyboy who needs to be kissed on his forehead right fucking now yes I know what he did I'm not taking criticism on this. also I just posted this by accident and had to completely delete and reformat it so if you saw that no you didn't

EDIT: I finished coven and realized I used a gif of Kyle and Zoe instead of Tate and Violet which has now been fixed. I cannot keep these blonde boys straight.

Okay so I don’t even want call this a yandere fic bc this is just about Tate in the source material so I don’t want to label him a full out yandere

But like

He kind of is

The other reason I don’t necessarily want to give him the yandere label is bc most of the time (from what I’ve read at least) yanderes usually don’t have their darling’s best interest at heart/can be okay with them being hurt or in danger

That shit would NEVER fly with Tate

I wrote a whole drabble about this but I know a lot of people have said Tate would kill you so you can be in the house with him forever

Yandere!Tate, yes

Regular Tate?? Hell no!!

There’s an element of selflessness that Tate possesses that gives him an important distinction from the yandere archetype

Because a lot of times yanderes want their darlings all for themselves

They want to be their darling’s only one, which can manifest in very selfish motivations

But Tate?????

Tate cares about your feelings more than his

And he’s proved this by acting selflessly for your benefit over and over

Even when there is literally zero chance for him to get anything out of it

He doesn’t care

Because his motivations regarding you are genuinely selfless

You are his priority, point blank period

Because Tate is…. Very dedicated

The thing with him is that when he latches onto you

He’s on for eternity

Not just for life bc he’s kind of an immortal ghost

He’ll be with you until you decide you don’t want him there anymore

And even then

He’s still going to love you just as much as he does now forever

Like he’s really not one to halfass anything

Especially how he feels about someone

Because he usually either doesn’t give a fuck about them or cares too much

He cares too much about pleasing all the women in the house

He cares too much about trying to make Nora happy, gain her approval and praise

And then there’s you

He either doesn’t give a fuck about someone, cares too much, or in your case, might end up deeply obsessed with and dogmatically devoted to you

Which he is

Honestly all it took was a few days before his heart was in your hands

You probably didn’t even realize for a while just how into you he is

But by the time he’s openly confessing his love for you

By the time he’s telling you that he would never let anyone or anything hurt you

That he cares about your feelings more than his

That he’s never felt this way about someone before

You have a pretty good idea of where he’s at

He doesn’t hide his feelings from you after that, he doesn’t think he could if he tried

Tate is hopelessly devoted to you

There’s no other way to describe it

We know he’s clingy

We know he’s affectionate

We know he’s a switchy bottom with raging mommy issues

We’ve established that

And you could tell all of that since you met him

But when he really lays his heart at your feet

When he really finds himself fully committed to you

That’s when all that in theory becomes in practice

When days go by and he’s glued to your side the whole time

Even just lingering nearby while you’re brushing your teeth or making food

That’s when you realize that he really really just likes being your lapdog

He loves it

He loves when you give him casual affection, he loves when you rest your hand on his back or brush hair out of his eyes

And he fucking loves when you use him as a reward or break from other tasks you have to do

Every time your little study timer goes off, you drop what you’re doing and run right over to pull him in for a kiss

He’s already thrown his arms around you

You just make out for like ten minutes until you have to start studying again

If it’s not for something super important he absolutely will try to distract you by kissing your neck and squeezing your waist

If it is super important or a subject you struggle in, he’ll help you study

He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, but he will

Because he knows how important this is to you

So he’ll pull away and start reading you flashcards

And like

He’ll be happy to do it

He won’t complain or be upset

He won’t have anything else he’d rather be doing

Tate Langdon took “if he wanted to he would” and fucking ran with it

Oh my god

And god help you if you do anything artistic or creative

Because as soon as he finds out that you’re an artist or a writer or an actor or musician or singer or dancer or sewist

Or literally anything else

It will once again alter his brain chemistry

The second you start showing him your art or writing or songs

It fucking changes him

The weight and significance of the renaissance and every major artistic movement and cultural moment ever influenced by the arts is now residing in you

That’s how he feels

He takes one look at what you do and he gets it

He never really cared until now

But jesus fucking christ everything you do needs to be in a museum

Sometimes you see him just staring at your art or rereading your writing and poetry or flipping through your sketchbooks

Watching videos of you in musicals or plays or dance recitals

Because when he sees the world the way you do

Whatever medium that might be through

Everything makes sense

He understands it, and he feels understood

He feels like you’re talking to him through your art

He feels a sense of peace, tranquility

If you think he couldn’t put you up on an even higher pedestal

Surprise

Not only are you the greatest person in the world

But you’re also an artistic genius

There’s this deep sense of like

Privilege he feels to see everything you’re creating right now

Even just your diary entries, the way you shape words, the flow of your stream of consciousness is so beautiful

He watches you so much more closely now, seeing the way you dance in your everyday movements

The way you channel and portray characters so flawlessly when you’re telling him about your day and the drama that happened at school

He could spend days looking through the boxes and albums of photos you’ve taken

He probably has

Because there’s no way to be closer to you than taking in these organic, raw forms of passion and self expression

He can’t get enough of it

Tate is dedicated to you

Not only as your boyfriend

But as your number one fan

Even if you’re not as creative

He still believes you have the best taste of anyone he’s ever met hands down

The books you like, the shows and movies you watch together

Even your music taste

Tate hasn’t liked a single song that’s been released after 1994

Until you handed him a pair of headphones and said you think he’ll like this

You sat him down and listened to the entirety of the black parade by my chemical romance

The whole album

And it changed his whole worldview

Yet again, one move and you’ve altered his brain chemistry

Even with other stuff he wouldn’t normally like

He likes it because you like it

He’ll watch Love Island and 90 Day Fiance with you for hours and love every minute of it

He loves feeling close to you, he loves that you want to share things you enjoy with him

He especially loves after a while when you’re starting to get kind of sleepy

Because you look so soft and adorable like that

But also because he knows he can put his head in your lap and you’ll play with his hair

You’ll run your fingers through his soft hair and scratch his back

And he feels so close to you

Which is all he ever wants

It’s always going to be you you you

And right now, he has exactly what he wants

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon headcanons #ahs #ahs x reader #ahs headcanons #been listening to judas by lady gaga on repeat bc of him #i think he'd like that #hes totally the type to get really happy when you wear his shirts or if someone notices a hickey or if he gets a song stuck in your head #probably something by nirvana #but yeah general leaving his mark on you stuff????#makes him go awooga awooga

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