•°. * -> All Of The Works Below Are Rated 18+ And Have Nsfw Content Unless Labeled Otherwise. Please

Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around. 

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question. 

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying. 

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon. 

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out. 

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom. 

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!” 

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in. 

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed. 

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow. 

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home. 

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent. 

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent. 

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection. 

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: Coming Soon

Fuck this was good, it’s a 5* star meal yall

Yan Cheater + Cheater Reader

Yan Cheaters are funny lemme try-

Yan Cheater who sees their darling dearest out on the town alone. You should be with them, but they'll fix that shortly. You're the person of their dreams and after so many failed relationships they're happy to find the right one. On their way over, their entire world crumbles as you're seen hugging and chatting up some random with a closeness you've never showed them. The unfamiliar face slings an arm around your shoulder as you walk off together - laughing as if you were without guilt.

You heartless bitch. How could you? After they'd give you their heart - their everything. Fine, fuck you - they could do the same thing. After crying through the night and crying their eyes they hit up a past fling to forget all about you; aggravated that all they can think of as the look at their partner is features that remind them of you. They ignore your calls, block you on everything, and have the time of their life with whoever's available... And looks like you.

The first time you saw them with someone else you turned tail and ran, saving your tears for a better time and person. Good - run off. You know what you did. They won't chase you - no matter how red their heart bleeds after seeing you after so long. You meet again at a party a mutual friend left in the dark was throwing. You, for closure - them, looking for a new body to take home. They couldn't even hide their disgust as you stomped up to them, two lockets in hand.

"What the hell did I do to you...."

They scoff. Trying to play innocent? "You know what you did."

"No! No I don't! You ghost me for weeks and never seem to be home when I try to talk to you, but the second I see you, you have your arm around somebody else. As far I remember, we were happy together. What did I do to you to deserve this?!"

"Hm... I think it was roughly a month ago. You and that little whore you met outside that coffee shop that just opened."

"Coffee shop?... Wha-" Your eyes widen. Unable to control your anger, you slap them across the face so hard the blow rattles in their teeth. They clutch their jaw. You little-

"That was my cousin, asshole!"

You toss the necklaces to the ground, two sets of initials engraved on their fronts.

"You didn't even bother to ask me about it before you ran off. If you really loved me, you wouldn't say something instead of jumping to conclusions. I knew dating you was a mistake. You spineless coward."

Their tongue feels heavy, likely cut on their teeth from your blow - bleeding; just like the heart they thought they lost. In a way - they truly had.

"Couldn't get a refund since they were custom" You spit on the fallen jewelry as you turn your back to them. "Happy Anniversary."

They fall to their knees, crawling after you as you fall into the crowd - grabbing your ankle. "No, baby. Please, baby - I fucked up bad, I know, but I can make this up to you. Sweetheart please - I'll delete everyone in my phone right now, even my parents. You'll be the only one. You're all I need. Baby, see? I'm doing it - look. Look at me - I'm sorry. Angel? Honey? D- don't leave me... DON'T LEAVE ME."

You have to change your phone number the very next day from all the calls you receive from the burner phones they purchased that same night to speak their part. Jobs too - as they stand outside and harass customers since your boss refused to let them in by your own wishes - accusing everyone of trying to take you away from them. You return home one day to find your front door unlocked and before you can realize the danger you step inside - your ex waiting with a carbon copy of every gift you threw out and wearing everything you ever gave them.

"Darling... I'm wearing that shirt you bought me last Christmas. I honestly thought it was hideous - but...it came from you. I'm wearing that hoodie you thought you lost too. I lied because I wanted to have something that smells like you to keep. It doesn't smell much like you anymore. Only my tears. I'm sorry - I won't ever lie to you again. You're perfect. My sweet angel. Please...give me a second chance. I don't know what I'll do if you don't."

jimsonweed

@meo-eiru's Micah

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

Silence regathers for a quick moment as Micah haphazardly waits for her to finish and fill him in with the time elapsed since her last confession, until he at last recognizes the disembodied voice. His chin changes place with the cheek on his palm as he casts a sideways glance to the latticed window, sparing the effort to withdraw his elbow from its seat on the sill. Through the gaps of the screen and his feathery, pale eyelashes, he manages to make out the curve of a head tilted over prayer hands, their fingertips grazing the hairline.

"Let the Lord know what weighs on your conscience, child."

He hears her shuffle from one knee to the next as she kneels, and a note to remind the custodian to replace the fraying carpet flickers in his mind. He extends and relaxes the muscles of his calves and in his ankles, just enough to stop his legs from falling asleep within the cramped space of the confessional booth. Although his pristine church was far from detoriating, having subsisted off ample donations over the years, stick him in the booth long enough and he sometimes has half the mind of tearing out the structure from the floorboards himself like a tooth from its maw.

"I caught myself asleep while caring for the courtyard today— I immediately snapped myself out of it and was able to finish with my chores, but I fear this incident arrived too close after the nuns' last reprimand of me. They have took a notice of my idleness as well."

The choice of 'nuns' instead of 'sisters' is the only thing that stands out to him from the rather bland admission. He suspects that that lack of familiarity she addresses them with would be the final extent to which she would express, likely subconsciously anyway, any discontent she harbored with the nuns' maltreatment of her.

When he opened that particular letter bidding him to permit their daughter to take her vows, he too felt a bit of mild surprise, but that dissipated as quickly it had came. Detachment over worldly affairs and petty gossip alike aside, he did not anticipate the extent to which curiousity over her pedigree would cement into controversy for the rest of the convent.

But then again, perhaps that was lack of foresight on his part, since controversy was what her family was mired in. It was not the first or the last instance that their prominent surname was uttered about in hushed tones, but the one that did them in was when a certain head priest and nun left in dishonor from the very churchdoors that separated his convent from the rest of the world. Although the guilty party in question was from a generation that seized to have survivors quite a while ago, as it would turn out she would remain as their legacy in the eyes of the less charitable. While her family became a generous benefactor for his church over the years and was now at least formally under its good grace, it still stood amongst the community the impression that charity was the only virtue that they partook in, wontingly circumventing every other.

"Have you any trouble sleeping at night?" he treads, subtly leading her to break the anonymity the booth is supposed to afford. Although he had intervened to replace the meagre room and board that the sisters had provided her, he would not be the least bit surprised if they were still somehow behind her restless nights. Once he had seen her atop a wobbling ladder as she shakily dusted the cornices of the sanctuary, and believed it was a foolhardy attempt she had herself contrived to gain the approval of the convent. However, when he got her to step down to safety she informed him that it was basically the sisters' idea to risk stumbling onto her neck with no one to watch her in case of such an accident. Not only that, but it turned to be only an instance in a laundry list of Herculean labors that they shelved for the girl. He understood that the nuns would naturally require novices to prove themselves, but this mild hazing had long run its course, if it even could still be called that. From all accounts, she was a rather plain girl, and her arrival at the convent did not dissuade that impression he had of her at all. The nuns on the other hand seemed to insist that she was a 'spoiled princess who needed to be taught a lesson or two', a conclusion they arrived at long before she did.

"Not at all," she responds, "I find the nights here to be quite peaceful and quiet. I guess it is on account of indulging in both that I've started sleeping later."

A plain answer from a rather plain girl.

"There is one other thing I suppose."

Micah makes a non-commital hum. Truthfully he usually acts much more engagingly with his parishioners and convent no matter how mind-numbingly insipid the interactions are, masterfully cajoling them to air out their grievances and guilts under his confidence, as his duty dictates. That and her being the member of family of particularly influential parishioners should really press him into wearing his best face, even with the latticed barrier between the both of them. There is something about her, though, that makes him comfortable with withdrawing such airs. If she has nothing critical to say of the nuns, he rationalizes, then his current conduct would likely not cause him to withdraw from her favor either.

"I fear that I may also be too attached to worldly possessions. I find myself often missing a personal effect I had to give up when I arrived at the convent."

He wonders if it is the silver spoon the nuns were so keen in finding on your person.

"Ah," he half-remembers. "The toy stereoscope with the moths?"

"Oh- yes," she affirms, and he hears her hands slide up and down along the skirt of her habit before meeting each other again. His cassock begins to feel itchy. "I had had it since I was a kid. I liked to- to flip between the images. Of the moths." He hears the gears shifting in her brain as she figures, yes, of course, the personal effects would eventually makes its way into the hands of the head priest, who had a vested interest in all who come to his convent to take their vows. He straightens his spine as his arms fall to his side, and resists the urge to crack his knuckles. His mind blanks on what to follow up with, and hers apparently as well, and this quiet disturbs him more than it should as his predictable inclination for the upperhand in any conversation and its flow rears its head again; perhaps it is more surprising that it had laid dormant for any amount of time. The awkward silence that follows causes him regret the breach of impersonal formalities that he was responsible for encouraging in the first place.

"The garden is especially beautiful at nighttime this time of year," she ushers out the hush that had fallen.

He hums again.

"It's lovely all day long, but the moths wake up in the evening and after which you can really see them out and about. They're especially attracted by the flowers— the groundskeeper mentioned that you're particularly careful with caring and choosing for which get planted."

"Do you have a favorite?" he abruptly asks. The waning daylight finds its way through the perforations in the door of the confessional booth, and he watches dust dance with each other before putting his palm in front of his eyes, resting his index finger across his browbone. Despite his interest in florticulture, seasonal allergies the one ailment he was invincible against since birth, that question is one he seldom broached with others. When he was much younger, he entertained the idea that you could tell a lot about a person's psychology by their preference in flowers, only to discover that oftentimes this choice was guided by the same mindlessness that usually governed the rest of their passive life. Still, he patiently waits as she pauses in contemplation.

"A feathered thorn, maybe."

His brow momentarily knits in confusion under his hand.

Oh.

She is referring to a moth.

"Thank you," he says, though he is not what for, perhaps belatedly acknowledging the compliment she gave to his garden.

"Of course, Father."

Another pause.

"Your penance is two Hail Marys, one Our Father."

"Thank you, Father."

Micah peers down on the overturned earth where a datura had once made itself home. Cold apathy wraps itself around his heart, as he remembers the detachment his father offhandedly addressed with what had once been his mother's garden. Micah's garden. The so-called queerness of flowers and foliage that were too busy resting when it came to greet daytime visitors, but awake just in time to welcome unwanted ones. Micah having to shed unnecessary externalities while he prepared to enter seminary, was reaching that age where he would become a man. He recalls his own response of selective muteness, knowing distinctly the position of a boy of twelve and his personal thoughts within the household.

He shuts his eyes, and a hand tightens around a rosary, a thumb running along a ceramic bead.

His voidlike pupils emerge from that violent blink, and he walks back into the house with placid movements, soundlessly closing the door behind him. He tears off his scarf as if it was moth-eaten.

His mother's face when she caught him pressing his chafed fingers on the delicate petals of a morning glory, careful to not tear away at them.

Micah's hair might appear endlessly soft to the touch, but it is anything but. The strands are so thick, that if one was not deliberate enough when handling them a few would inevitably pierce the skin. One of the earliest responsibilities he bestowed on himself was learning to do his own hair, sparing his mother's hands from the splinter-like cuts that would occur whilst braiding or trimming it. He could still perceive the smack of her palm against the back of his head when he ran his inflamed fingers along the stained glass windows of the church for relief. When she had startled him by calling his name as he caressed the morning glory, he instinctively expected a similar reprimand, even an echo of his father's lectures on becoming a man. As he looked up at her face with his knees digging into the ground, the only thing beating down on him was his mother's smile.

When he was smaller it was not abundantly clear to him the connection between her concern for his sickly health and her devotion to the church. Much to his father's chagrin, his mother spared his early childhood from both hard work and hard play on account of his frail constitution. Even leisurely explorations of the outside world in daylight remained scant, his pale skin and white eyelashes rebelling against the sun which punished his insolence with rashes from its heat and migraines from its brightness. The attendance of mass, however, as well as the receiving of blessings from any priest that she could seize the attention of, was an exception, and a non-negotiable one at that. Prayer, was his constant companion that formed the monotony of his life which replaced both childhood friends and the daily sunrises, save for Sunday mornings when his mother would wake him up early to attend church and catch a glimpse of bored neighborhood kids who he could not exchange a word with as they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes listening to the priests speak. So when she woke him up again at around the same time the following day, the sun still hibernating as late winter only had just began to converge with early spring, he confronted the task of cleaning the courtyard of weeds and dead leaves without question and with a vigor out of place in the frigid landscape.

Lamb's ears. Vervain. Moonflowers. Four o' clocks. Artemesia. Angel's trumpet.

Their names would have to press into his memory for quite a while before their faces could. If they pressed on a bit harder, he supposes, he would have figured out his mother's design a bit earlier. Nonetheless, underneath the watch of his widebrimmed hat, his early mornings and then his evenings too were preoccupied with watering and pruning and fertilizing, constant monitoring in general, so much so that short term changes animated him more than long term prospects would. The stems for arms and leaves for fingers that extended themselves to the sky, the vines that groped their way up trelisses and across walls. The buds which had tentatively peeked out like the head of a turtle from its shell after a long winter. These were all rewards in themselves.

It felt in some way that not only his mother, but the world, was imparting a mystery on him and that he was also a part of.

The lamb's ears would be the first to bloom, in the late spring.

Well not quite.

Micah was disappointed when his mother had informed him that despite the inexorable spread of its creeping stems as they took root in the claylike soil, it would only start to flower in its second year. She had comforted him though by reminding him of its name and that its silvery leaves are the primary reason for its residence in the gardens in which it presides, as was the case with the Artemesia that would actually blossom that mid-summer.

Further respite was that the angel's trumpets that his mother had been caring for for the past nearly five years would finally bloom in the coming months during that very same time. Micah had not even been aware that the nightshade was capable of producing flowers, and once or twice had silently questioned of such an inconspicuous plant in the garden, the sole one at that time, which also needed to be brought home inside every winter. Once he had asked his mother if she liked it because it was mentioned somewhere in the bible, and she only laughed at him although he had broached the topic in complete seriousness.

The vervain and moonflowers ended up being the first to bloom, and in tandem. He had been awoken from a nap at a call for dinner when he had decided to check the garden first, and discovered that the buds of each plant had simultaneously burst open. His heart had swelled at the sight of the bubbles of tiny purple trumpets and the giant rounded white stars swaying in the evening breeze. When his mother had come out to see what was taking him so long to set the table, she practically had to pry him away, making him rub his hands on her apron on account of the latter's poison.

When he did make it to the dinnertable after thoroughly washing his hands, he could barely contain his excitement at the new developments. Although children were raised to be seen and not heard in his household, with little restraint he waxed about the garden and repeatedly asked his mother when he could expect the rest of the blossoms. It was a conversation between mother and son mostly, as his father remained characteristically quiet after he had said grace. It seemed for the most part that he silently approved of the manual labor his son was undertaking, having spent most of his boyhood without physical exertion.

His excitement dulcified into satisfaction for the time being so he had slept well and without break that night, but when he returned that following morning to the garden, he was startled to see that while the vervain still undulated in the wind like bubbles of sea foam, the moonflower had closed up shop as quickly as she had arrived. When he scuttered back home to find his mother and tell her that something had happened to the moonflowers, a look of confusion laid on her face before blithe composure returned at his description. She briefly chastised him on his lack of discernment, because if he could not at least recall that she had already mentioned it to him, he could surmise from the name that the plant prefered moonlight over the sun. He flushes at his previous panic, as he belatedly remembers her alluding that the flower only bloomed at night; him, being mistaken that the blossoms burst forth from the buds during a particular evening, then continuously blooming for the next few months.

In June the clock would finally strike four. Their architecture was that of the poisonous moonflowers though on a smaller scale, but much more colorful, as if someone took a paintbrush to make streaks of magenta across their white and yellow basecoats. It also would bloom later in the day, though a bit earlier than dusk, and his mother joked if he needed an exact reminder of when. The humidity of the season's evening pronounced its otherwise delicate smell, until it had become synonymous with summer nights for him.

The advent of the artemesia and the angel's trumpet in mid-August would complete this party of parioshioners that would attend Micah's midnight mass. Tiny, yellow clusters abutting the lobed, white fuzzed leaves reminded him of wreaths of winterberries, the sweet, fruity quality of the flowers marrying with the camphorous, sagelike aroma of the foliage. His mother's long-awaited nightshade on the other hand was beyond comparison, hanging downwards like a sunset-colored bell that would only ring at dusk, or a trumpet directed at a headstone to awake the dead. It seemed either that the third time was a charm, or he required the whole before he could understand the unity of its parts, but was his mother's moon garden, at any point, truly incomplete? On moonless nights when the silvery foliage would glow a little dimmer? Before a moth with tea-stained wings, the same color as blood dried on strands of white hair, would stir from its slumber to visit one September evening, and have its final rest on the arbor of a clock? At every midnight mass that did happen to take place, because the lamb's ear would be cut down prematurely, without any blooms?

Unfinished, maybe, but not incomplete.

OOPS, SEEMS LIKE YOU LOST

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — after eagerly participating in a game, which albedo lost in the end, you‘re here to give him what he deserves.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 1.4k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, gn! reader

It all started so lovingly, in midst a summer day, the both of you simply enjoying a game together, drinking some tea and appreciating each others company if it wasn’t for a certain thought playing across your thoughts again.

speaking of that, once you got the rather intriguing idea, —while playing cards with albedo—, you figured: what if you challenge him and if he loses the game against you, he's obliged to do whatever you want him to do, for one whole night. Hmm, you were humming to yourself and weren't certain if he'd really say yes to that little thought of yours.

It's not as if he wasn't open to new things, —you knew that wasn't the case—, but still, would he simply just trust you like that? Short answer: yes, yes he would. It's been hours now since Albedo lost the game (three times), you were so goddamn good at. Not to mention that prior to your little play game you did ask him if he was okay with practically giving himself to you if he loses.

"yes, I trust you wholeheartedly." was his reply in such a nice tone, if only he knew what you wanted to try out tonight, which he certainly will manage to figure out later once you have him spread over the bed, his hands turning into fists and grabbing hard onto the bedsheets underneath the both of you.

You're denying him of yet another orgasm, "you're doing so well, love." saying that with a wink, you cooed against the shell of his ear. Albedo was far gone at this point, finding it hard to breathe as past tears stained his blushed cheeks and complimented his fucked out face so nicely, — he’s imagining how it would feel to cum on your hands right now—, truly, what a sight to behold.

you weren't done with him yet though, because you wanted to make him cum, you really did. There's just this one technique of yours you'd love to try out tonight, a little something you knew would result in him unraveling completely in front of you. "baby." he's whining, twisting and turning as he felt you touch his abused cock again, lazily stroking it for him.

"Hmm." you just hummed your answer, far too into your thoughts on what you were going to do next, "do you want to cum, baby?" you wouldn't dare to ask him that right now, —he thought to himself—, he's been waiting to cum for ages after all! "yes." his chest rising and falling heavily while his heart beat times faster than a normal amount. After feeling you gradually pick up on pace he let out a defeated sigh, beaming his eyes at you and archons were they adorable, too cute to be true almost. "Please." whining and wiping away the corners of his eyes to get rid of the blur, "yes please."

"of course, you know i love you." you tapped his thigh lightly to signal him that it was about time he could surely release now. Simply stroking him harder and pumping his cock with your hand. Albedo, —who was swallowing down a whimper—, arched his back to feel your touch even more and meet your movements halfway, biting back a whine when he felt a new climax building deep inside his gut and threatening to break again. "don't deny me of any pleasure." he's forcing himself to look at you, "please." directly reaching over to hold your wrist with his hand but you swatted it away regardless.

"oh!" you suddenly exclaimed, a dark undertone accompanying it, "you mean like this?" suddenly stopping fisting his cock completely, —hand still holding onto him—. "no no no." he's so sweet and desperate right now, you wanted to relish in that much longer but you really didn't have anymore time until he'd lose his climax completely.

"you lost three times." approaching him so your lips would be against his face now, gaze meeting his pathetic own. Your warm breath brought shivers down his spine when he swallowed hard, couldn‘t recognize the last time you were this dominant with him. You're beginning to pump him again, —faster now—, so he won't be able to lose his orgasm, "Please!" he's chanting that particular word over and over, —still confused on what you were doing— and in hopes you'd see his desperate state.

"three times." your hand gesture coming to an end again, grabbing tight against his abused tip but completely holding still. "fuck." groaning and spatting almost, while his hand finally got a hold of your wrist, the grip around it harsh.

he was trying to pump himself with your hand now but you were more than delighted to rip his hand away another time. "two." you told him when increasing the fisting of his cock again, this time faster than prior. "Ah. fuck. fuck." his back was arching violently now, head thrown back and mouth agape as albedo's arms looped around your body to desperately hold against something, anything would do now, really.

it was way too much, couldn't even feel his lower half anymore. His knees shaking and an almost downright pornographic expression written all across his skin. Fuck, he was so fucked out it was almost silly, you never saw him that way and wondered if he ever wants to try this another time. Lets hope he won‘t actually punish you someday for your little stunt tonight.

"how are you feeling?" you shyly asked, batting your eyelashes at him while your fist grabbed stronger against his tip to keep his orgasm deep inside his gut.

ypu waited a few seconds for him to reply but albedo simply wasn't able to anymore, at this point he was just a panting moaning mess, desperately holding against you to make him cum, unconsciously rutting against your hand that had him in a tight grip again.

he would flutter his eyes open every now and then to look at you through under his wet lashes, biting down onto his quivering lip in the process, "aw." your mouth finding their way next to his face again, "you've been so good." your sentence barely a whisper, "here's your reward.", licking and sucking roughly on his earlobe as a starter while he could obviously feel the big grin displayed on your face, "one."

now, coming to an end, you increased your pace to your limits, squeezing him tighter as you followed his movements, meeting his weak pathetic rutting halfway.

"yes." he's chanting again, "yes, yes." a pathetic smile turned visible across his abused lips, which he had chewed on countless times before. Albedo lolled his head back to the side, hazy expression and resting against your warmth while you were working so hard right now to please him.

"i’m so close." he looked up at you, his eyes half-lidded and fucked out, mouth parted with whiny groans escaping his lips. You started fucking his length stronger and harder, tightening around him and twisting your fist whenever you'd feel his tip brush against your hand.

"a-archons, fuck." he managed to spit out, a combination of skin on skin echoing through the room while his groaning was loud against your ear, albedo's hands desperately clawing on your skin as he could feel the knot deep inside of him break.

your gaze fell to his cock that was twitching violently now, thick sprouts of white coating your whole hand as he threw his head back, eyes scrunched shut with small tears running down his cheeks, finally emptying his balls to their limits. A moment later his body collapsed into the sweat stained sheets, breathing and moaning out the most angelic sounds. He was in his afterglow glory now, skin shining from all the sweat that was decorating his body almost downright pornographically.

albedo was still sensitive though, the second you turned back to lick off his juices from both your hand and his cock, he couldn't help it but jerk against you.

but that didn't really matter anymore, he could rest now and you didn‘t mind. "you did so good baby." you exclaimed breathlessly yourself, lovingly slurping on his seed and making sure to taste and swallow everything he gave you. All he could do now was nod weakly, mind threatening to blank out but he didn‘t care because he finally came all over your hand, just like he imagined it.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

I AM IN LOVE (not my usual to-go but very hotly written 😘)

hihi ! can u write for loner / incel stepbrother x m reader ? (subbot)

mhmm!!! tw;; stepcest, genuine creep character; hentai mentions; masturbation, noncon, incel step-brother, bttm male reader, minors, ageless blogs dni!!

incels; who define themselves as unable to get a romantic or sexual partner despite desiring one. yeah, sure. that was him alright - your older step-brother... nineteen, turning twenty, and you - eighteen, turning nineteen... a one year age difference, making him all jittery... he does admire you, he does! he-he's sorry he doesnt show it... he's sorry he doesnt show how badly he wants to communicate - to talk to you, to learn about you... sorry he's such a disgusting freakish loser, even. he was so excited to meet you, to be a brother after having no siblings ... finally, getting the little brother he's always wanted.

step brother... whos a genuine gross fucking weirdo. wondering how you would ever get along with this guy... he was already introverted; barely making any sort of conversation with you - its harder now that youre living together, forced to have rooms next to each other with a conjoining bathroom... you were reluctant. this guy had no idea what personal space was - getting all close as he brushes his teeth next to you every other night... but still, silent as ever... so very careful to hide certain disgusting figures of busty anime characters and toys - fleshlights and - just because hes so experimental!!! - ( already fucking himself with a fleshjack, moaning out ur name accompanied by little bro )

often masturbating in his dark little hobbit hole to brocon hentai - fantasizing that it was you calling for your big brother rather than the animated character on his monitor so unashamed...

whining to himself, voice muted as he slowly strokes along his cock - why is he so undesirable to women? and... why not have sex with the next best thing? his new little step brother... he knows hes awkward, and he knows damn well that you dont share the same interests... and he never wouldve thought it would have come to this - but here you are... in his little fantasy, bouncing on his cock and calling him big brother...

often merely jerking off to the sounds of you simply taking a shower - a shared bathroom connected between your rooms... but now - t-to stand in the corner of your room, admiring the way the moonlight hits your face, lightening your features and giving him even more room to work with - languidly stroking his cock and quieting his grunts and moans with one of your dirty shirts he found in the bathroom hamper - secretly hoping that you do wake up, that you see him masturbating to the sight of you and that you whine at how gross your big brother is - f-fuck-! painting his hand with his thick opalescent cum, cleaning it up in a huff with your shirt and taking it with him to the bathroom where he entered so sneakily...

before finally taking what hes always wanted from you!! after... listening in from the bathroom; your desperate mewls and attempts to cum - he intervenes, shoving the door open and you exclaim his name in shock - covering yourself upㅡ"d-dont call me that," he exhales shakily, climbing over you so quickly - giving you no time to react as he continues grumbling as he easily flips you on your belly and holds your wrists behind your back - ignoring your struggle to buck him off - "c-call me big brother..."

and... sitting on the edge of your bed after shucking off the rest of your clothes - cock bobbing up and down as he bounces you along his prick, your wrists restrained behind your back and being so helpless for ur big bro ,,, "y-yeah, thats right... little brother... how does big bro's cock feel inside you, huh?" mumbling a specific line from his disgusting pornos, not as embarrassed as he should be as he fucks you full of his cum rather too quickly...

⋆ ˚ ｡⋆୨୧˚ Masterlist 1 ˚୨୧⋆｡ ˚

Yandere oc ages

Yandere sizes

Yandere heights

Yandere pretty boy introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Description Drawing

Yandere jock introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Yandere roommate introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Yandere pervert introduction

Part 1

Description

Yandere victim introduction

Yandere stripper introduction

Yandere octopus introduction

Yandere bunnyboy introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Yandere streamer introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Drawing 1

Yandere mean prince introduction

Part 1

Yandere masochist introduction

Part 1 Part 2

Yandere gangster introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Yandere cupid introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Yandere zoo introduction

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Yandere aquarium introduction

Part 1

Yandere vampire introduction

Part 1

Yandere council president introduction

Yandere best friend introduction

Yandere immortal introduction

Yandere monster introduction

Yandere playboy introduction

Yandere dogboy introduction

Yandere catboy introduction

Yandere foxboy introduction

Yandere actor introduction

Part 1

Yandere harpy introduction

Part 1

Yandere incubus introduction

Part 1

Yandere nerd introduction

Part 1

Yandere robot introduction

Part 1

Yandere cute prince introduction

Yandere merman introduction

Part 1

Wind’s Destiny

PAIRINGS: yandere childhoodbestfriend!kazuha x reader

TAGS: noncon, full nelson, fingering, creampie, mirror sex, breeding, insecure reader, implied fem!chubby!reader, childhood friends to lovers, forced marriage au, brat!reader, kinda mean!reader, manipulative!kazuha, reader has self-esteem issues and is afraid to get pregnant, kaedahara ‘just the tip’ kazuha

WORDS: 3.5k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: this is for @miniatureneckpandamug​ who won first place on my milestone raffle! thank you for giving me such a big brain prompt that i got carried away, i honestly loved writing this. this is for my big girls and kazuha fuckers out there, come get y’alls food!

Kaedahara Kazuha’s return shocked everybody.

After the widespread news of successfully stopping the Musou no Hitotachi, he became a hero to Inazuma and your hometown’s pride. It’s hard not to reminisce childhood memories when he’s the talk of the town; that big cherry blossom tree in your uncle’s courtyard was where both of you would chase finches when the sun rose and rest under the shade as the sun sets. He was a mere boy when he left to train as a samurai, and now he’s grown to his features and became a formidable young man known for his swordsmanship and artistic poetry.

The future of the Kaedahara Clan is now on his palm. And with the rise of a clan, a new heir shall come.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest announces, and for a second, you hold your breath– until Kazuha gently lifts up your veil and seals your fate with a kiss.

Keep reading

Oh, but as much I hate those feminism-hating, men submitting trad-wives on social media, you just know a yandere would eat it the fuck up.

Like those misogynistic, tate fuckers? The gymbros? The so-called alpha males? They're lovestruck by a pretty little housewife who loves God and prances around the house in modest, yet cute clothes. They think she's adorable, makes them want to just protect her.

A reader like that, would give them a bad case of cuteness aggression. Probably for the best, honestly.

It's funny. Almost hilarious. Because a yandere like that would be so easy to manipulate. For a while, let's just entertain the idea of a trad-wife reader being two-faced. On the surface level, she's a pure, innocent little thing who just wants to stay home vacuuming and tidying up the house for her husband. But deep down.. she's really just playing it safe, you know?

I mean, she doesn't really want this life, per say. Her husband thinks it's in his nature to be dominant and doesn't believe in the government or vaccinating. To some degrees, it's bearable, but then he starts talking about how raw milk is the way to go and how his future children would surely be home-schooled.

And frankly, well, you start to think he's quite idiotic.

It was an arranged marriage. And while you were raised to be a traditional, submissive homemaker, you start to realise that this isn't what you wanted. Not what you'll ever want.

So from there? It's all manipulation and playing coy.

Just smile and bake him sweet pies. Live in to the chauvinistic fantasy he has fragmented and feed into his ego.

Now would you get spoiled? Realistically, no. But if it's a yandere? Hell, yes.

Only the most gorgeous diamonds for you, dear wife. And pretty ass dresses. If that isn't how usually dress... better change your style.

Coo into his ear as he comes home from a long day of work; rub his shoulders and press soft kisses to his jaw; call him your strong, dependable husband who you'd love forever.

1, 2, 3.. anddd, he's putty in your hands.

Tell him you'll take care of his children as he lavishes you in luxury. That new house by the seaside you wanted? Done. He'd prefer living in the countryside instead, but oh well. You're the future mother of his kids, of course you deserve the best.

And of course, discreetly continue to take your birth control pills.

First time reblogging, kinda nervous.. But the creator demanded it so here we go.. Great story btw!

Life no. 7 - [pt.1]

genshin x sagau!bard!reader

tw: brief mention of death

—

A performer, a traveler, a bard. How peculiar you have become.

[prologue] - [next]

—

You kicked your feet back and forth from your perch atop a merchant’s carriage, grinning as you caught your first few glimpses of the city of Mondstadt. It shone in the center of Cider Lake like a crown, the many windmills chugging along, blades pushed by the invisible hand of the wind.

“Having fun, huh,” the carriage driver chuckled, grinning at your clear excitement, “You’re a kätzlein, aren’t ya? You from here?”

“Nope,” you chirped, “I get it from my mom, I think. I’m actually from Snezhnaya.”

The driver whistled in surprise.

“Snezhnaya! You’re real far from home!”

You nodded, admiring the way the wind blew through the grass. You weren’t lying about not being from Mondstadt, at least. The anemo vision on your hip glowed beautifully in the sun, the blank vision next to it dull and cloudy.

Your Snezhnayan anemo vision was courtesy of your double, but the blank one…well, that was a much longer story.

Not one you were willing to think about now.

“Should I play some music? We’ll be there in a song or two’s time, I’m sure.”

“Oh, please do,” the driver said, grinning gratefully, “you know your music is always well appreciated.”

With that, you opened your fiddle’s intricate wooden case, lifting it gently from the velvet-lined box. It had cost you a small fortune back in Sumeru, having been brought there from Fontaine, but it was worth it.

You played a few notes as a test, but everything seemed to be in tune. With that, you held the fiddle up and began to play a cheery working song.

The whole world seemed to pause to listen as you played, the notes carried far and wide by the wind. You never had the musical talent on earth that you did now. You assumed that Teyvat itself guided your hands and your voice, teaching you the fiddle in a matter of days and aiding your voice where you would usually falter.

The driver began whistling to the tune. The horses, encouraged by your playing, seemed less exhausted. The hilichurls and slimes nearby followed your caravan for a short while before going back to their homes, drawn forth and pacified by your music.

You had learned to channel your magic after all, it seemed, through singing and the playing of instruments.

…

It took exactly three songs to reach the city, not two like you had thought.

…

You thanked the driver, as well as the merchant, for agreeing to take you along with them, before leaving the group and beginning to wander around the city of the wind.

The people of Mondstadt were quite friendly. Less so when they noticed your vision and realized where you were from, but still welcoming to an extent. It was only fair, considering that the vast majority of Snezhnayans in the city were part of the Fatui, but still uncalled for.

After wandering the city for quite a bit of time, you made your way back to the fountain in the center of the city. You smiled to the young girl who was tossing coins into the water, setting down your things, resting your hat upside down on the ground by your feet, and once again opening up your case.

The intricate appearance of the violin case, as well as the instrument itself, drew attention from a few passerby. You breathed deeply, soothing your nerves, before beginning to play.

It became clear to you that you shouldn’t have worried at all about playing in the middle of the town plaza.

Your playing was as beautiful as always.

The song carried throughout the plaza, drawing the attention of most everyone nearby. The pigeons nearby settled on the buildings closest to you, leaning forward to hear better. The flowers growing in the windows and balconies of the buildings nearby seemed to sway to the music, perking up and almost seeming to grow faster. Quite a few people slowed down too, listening appreciatively and occasionally dropping some mora into your hat.

As you performed, you thought back to your first visit to Mondstadt.

It was much less pleasant, to say the least.

You had been chased out of the city within thirty minutes. The guards were probably weighing the pros and cons of running through the large crowd with their weapons drawn, but clearly they had made up their minds pretty quickly.

You had gone with them at first. You were more than willing to comply with them in the beginning, hoping that there was just some sort of misunderstanding. Once you realized just how much danger you were in, though, you ran.

You had gone to Liyue next, then Inazuma, then you passed through Liyue again and made your way to Sumeru.

Where, of course, you had almost died, and here you were now.

Minus half of your hand, sadly, but you were still alive, at the very least.

You flexed your wooden fingers, continuing to play your fiddle. Considering the money that had been tossed into your hat, you would most likely be able to find somewhere to stay the night within the city. You might even be able to afford a nice meal for yourself.

You continued to play until one of the other bards in the city chased you off, as the fountain was apparently ‘his’ spot to play. Still, you probably needed a break anyways, so there weren’t any hard feelings.

You made your way over to Good Hunter, ordering a plate of Sticky Honey Roast and sitting down. It was far too much food to eat by yourself, especially considering your shrunken stomach, but you managed regardless.

You sat there for a while afterwards, trying to plan what to do next.

Goth Hotel was fully booked by the Fatui, you recalled, so you wouldn’t be able to stay there. You could always camp outside of the city, but you would prefer to spend the night under a roof with running water, so that was out.

Unable to recall anywhere to stay from your encyclopedic memory of the lore of Teyvat, you decided to go to the Angel’s Share and ask around there.

…

The drunks at the Angel’s Share, unfortunately enough, were much less welcoming than the general public. One glance at the vision on your hip and they would ignore you for the rest of the night, occasionally glowering at you from across the tavern.

You were quite certain that you had Diluc’s hatred for the Fatui to blame for that. After all, it would only make sense that people who agreed with his sentiments would flock to the place.

Your fluffy ears twitched sadly, your tail drooping. You would have to yell at your double later for not only giving you a Snezhnayan vision, but also for giving you cat ears. It was humiliating.

You sat down at the bar, getting a drink for yourself and planning your next move. Sure, you could camp outside the city and return in the day for money, but you had been camping in the wilderness for weeks at this point, and you were quite tired of it. Maybe there was another hotel somewhere nearby..?

“Aha,” someone called, interrupting your thoughts. You turned, only to see…

Mona..?

“Just as I thought,” she said, a proud smile on her face, “I knew you would be here. Your arrival was written in the stars.”

You blanked. Mona, Mona… of course you recognized her, you could recognize any of the playable characters, but you didn’t know all too much about her. She was an astrologist, and you had seen memes about her being broke, but other than that? Nothing. You didn’t know what to expect.

“Ah, hello,” you greeted her nervously, tail flicking back and forth, “who might you be?”

“I,” she started, puffing up in pride, “am Astrologist Mona Megistus, but you may call me Mona. Of course, you already know that.”

Oh, she knew.

You gave her your best pleading look, silently begging her to shut up and go somewhere more private to talk.

She either didn’t notice, or she actively ignored you.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, and I’m sure that you feel the same way,” she continued on, “I’m certain that with our abilities combined, we—”

“Oh, you’re a fan of my music?”

You stared at her with desperation clear in your eyes. Just play along, you screamed internally at her, please just play along so I don’t die.

“Uh—yes..?”

You smiled warmly at her, grasping her hands in yours while quickly building a role to play in your head.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet a fan! I didn’t expect to have any yet, since I’ve only just started performing!”

She nodded, clearly trying to act natural. Luckily nearly everyone in the tavern was drunk already, and wouldn’t notice more subtle expressions.

“Yes, I…I like your work quite a bit. I’d like to discuss it with you, actually, but I fear it might be a bit too rowdy in here.”

Oh thank gods, you thought, trying not to visibly deflate in relief, thank whatever gods are out there.

“Sure! Do you have any place in mind?”

“Oh…” Mona paused awkwardly, trying to think of something, “how about…we just…take a walk around the city? It’s quite beautiful when the sun starts to set.”

You nodded, following her out of the crowded tavern and into the city streets. The two of you entered a small empty alleyway as soon as you could.

You sighed in relief, heart beating heavily as you leaned against one of the alley walls.

“Oh my god, I thought I was going to die,” you whimpered out, breathing deeply, “please never do that again.”

“But…no one would ever dare to harm you, Your Grace,” Mona said, staring at you in confusion, “is that why you decided to take up a glamour to hide your true form as well?”

“Did you ever hear about the impostor?”

“Ah—of course!” She puffed up in self-importance, “everyone heard about them, the mortal who dared to steal the face of a god. You ordered the Archons to hunt them down and punish them for their crimes.”

“Mona,” you said, your voice somewhat strained, “that was me. The person who says they’re the creator—they’re lying. They almost got me murdered.”

Mona stared at you in disbelief.

The city of Mondstadt truly was beautiful today. The setting sun painted the buildings and the clouds in shades of yellow and red, the chatter of the crowds almost musical if you listened closely.

A gust of wind blew through the alleyway, blowing Mona’s hair into her face. But how could the wind be so gentle, so soft, now that she knew what had happened?

The astrologists originated from a friend of the original Creator. They had taught their friend everything that they knew about the stars, laying bare the secrets of the universe in front of their eyes.

Forever indebted to the Creator for their teachings, the astrologists had a sacred duty to protect the Creator and all of their creations, no matter the cost.

There were tales of astrologists who had parted seas, crumbled mountains, calmed tempests, all in the name of the Creator and their people.

Mona had failed in her sacred duty. Spectacularly.

“Hey—wait, are you—no, stop crying! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you—”

Mona pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapped around you with all of her strength. Muffled sobs came from her shaking form.

Reluctantly, uncertainly, you wrapped your arms around her, stroking her back in a way you hoped was comforting.

“I failed you,” she gasped out. It seemed like the only thing she could say, repeating it over and over.

“Hey—no, you didn’t fail me, I—you didn’t even know! It’s okay!”

She shook her head, utterly despondent.

“I…I cannot go on knowing this, knowing I have so horribly failed in my duties. Please, punish me in whatever way you see fit. I would die in order to pay this debt.”

“That—I can’t do that, I—,” you paused for a moment, thinking to yourself, “actually, I can think of something.”

Pulling away from you, she stared at the cobbled floor at your feet, nodding silently.

“I…well, this is embarrassing, but I don’t exactly have a place to stay since all the hotels are full,” you said sheepishly, scratching at the back of your head. Mona looked up at you expectantly.

“Do you think…I might be able to stay with you..?”

—

Notes: Yaurssss,,,,,,, more writing,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, inshallah I hope u enjoyed

Maybe I’ll make a playlist for this fic too, who knows lmao 👀 also fun fact! This fic’s original name was Tiny Mirrors, named after a song by AJJ. Also, the reader is kätzlein as a further reference to the fic’s current namesake.

I got bored so i thought i might share some stuff… please dont stalk my likes