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lavandulawrites · 8 months ago

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Yandere Vampire Men

Yandere vampire Boothill x reader, yandere Dino (he’s already a vampire haha) x reader, yandere vampire L, yandere vampire Pantalone x reader, yandere vampire Ranpo x reader, yandere vampire Vyn x reader (all separate)

Fandoms: Honkai Star Rail, Delico’s Nursery, Bungo Stray Dogs, Death Note, Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis

Just some random thoughts. First time I’ve written for Vyn (AAAAAA)

Masterlist

Warnings: possession, manipulation, blood, biting, stalking, abducting

Word count: 1204

Boothill

When you first met the cowboy, you were in awe of his razor sharp teeth. His many stories were flashy just like his teeth, if only more. He always managed to make you laugh and you quickly fell in love with the handsome cowboy.

When he had you pressed against the wall with his lips mere centimetres away from the pulsing vain in your neck, he finally revealed the truth. He was a vampire and he craved your blood.

However it didn’t take long before Boothill learned that his desire for your love was far greater than his blood thirst.

He visited your little bar every time he had the time. He was so friendly towards you, but so very intimidating towards everyone who gave you any type of attention. His jealousy quickly became clear.

When you walk in on him boring his teeth into the neck of a friendly regular, you screamed as loud as your lungs let you. Boothill quickly dropped the man before he licked his lips. With bloodstained teeth he tried to calm you down. As you cradled you in his arms it became clear to him; he needs to protect you. He is sure you will enjoy travelling with him. He can afford all comfortable hotel rooms from the bounties he claims. He can’t wait to travel with you for eternity. Whether you want to or not is irrelevant.

Dino

The nobleman was as stern as he was busy. He met you at a ball which he attended solely because of his noble duties.

You were intimidated by the tall gloomy vampire as he towered over you. He didn’t say much at first, seemingly content with just dancing in silence.

Said silence was however broken when he told you his former wife had just left him and that he was told he should find a new wife (his son needs a mother after all). You didn’t say much to his statement, as he didn’t seem pleased with the whole wife-situation.

When you both had retreated to the balcony for some fresh air he told you that you were the perfect candidate. You were taken aback by his words. He had then scoffed and said that you were remarkable in senses he couldn’t quite describe.

The wedding had been beautiful. You would have enjoyed it had it not been for the changes in Dino’s behaviour. His touched were lingering and his gaze harsh and intense. You knew very well that humans and vampires were different in a lot of ways, but his actions became more and more confusing.

It was sudden and almost unexpected when you found yourself waking up in a locked room. It didn’t take you long to realise that banging on the door had no effect. He later told you that you were the only woman he had ever lived and that he would never let you leave. You were to be his for all eternity.

The lazy detective licked some cream of his fingers as his eyes bored into yours. He smirked slightly at your nervousness.

He was working on a case when he met you. You were nothing special, only an assistant of the police chief, but on L’s eyes you were everything.

He found it humorous how a genius like him could fall in love with someone as ordinary as you. Even though your intelligence and skills were ordinary, your beauty was something else’s.

It didn’t help that the mere smell of your blood was enough to drive him insane. L had always prided himself on being a collected individual, but when faced with you, his composure ravelled before him.

With a pill slipped onto your sweet tea, it was no hassle with bringing you home to his penthouse. He spent his free time with you. Either sharing some sweet cakes, sipping on your blood, cuddling or all. He knows naivety is a dangerous trait, so he doesn’t feel bad for abducting you in the slightest.

Pantalone

The black haired vampire never seem to get enough riches. Throughout his many years he has collected the finest jewels and the soft silk, but something is missing.

No matter what he buys, nothing can fill the gaping hole within his soul.

When he hires you as an assistant he can feel his hole closing. You’re the one. He needs you like humans need air.

It won’t take long before you find yourself trapped inside the four walls of a lavish bedroom that is perfectly decorated to your tastes. How does he know what you like?

He dresses you in the finest gowns as he makes sure your every need it tended to (except your need for freedom). As he drinks your sweet blood, he swears that you will never be in any harms way. He will take care of you and love you till the end of time.

Ranpo

The playful vampire is extremely unpredictable, but given his laziness he often came off as rather non-hostile.

When he saw you for the first time in one of his favourite bakeries, he just knew he needed you. So he follows you.

Your sent us so very intoxicating he can’t help but follow you around. You’re extremely naive and never look over your shoulder. It’s pitiful.

He quickly managed to tangle himself into your everyday life. He always show up at the bakery you work at and entertain you with stories of the many cases he has solved. You are completely oblivious to the obsession that’s brewing within the black haired man.

A day after a tough case, he finally snaps. He knows he will never get caught so he lures you with sweet words with a certain playfulness. He locks the door behind you as you take in his flat. Before you know it he has his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Sharp fangs sink into your neck as he gently strokes your hair. He will take good care of you. He is the greatest after all.

Vyn

Vyn’s desire for human knowledge reaches far deeper than most can even phantom to comprehend. As a psychiatrist he is able to satisfy some of his thirst for knowledge.

When he gets you as a patient his entire world turns upside down. For the first time in his long life he is not in control of his emotions.

You’re so beautiful and so very human. He finds himself counting down to when your appointments are. His heart aches when you tell him about all your struggles and he swears to himself that he will do anything it takes to make you feel better.

When you tell him that a coworker of yours has made your days worse by snarky comments, he sees red. He quickly adverts your attention from the pencil that just snapped in his clutching hand.

It takes months for him to decide he can’t take it anymore. He needs to protect you, both from vampires and from humans. He keeps you in his lavish house and he spoils you. He bites you so carefully as if he’s afraid you will break like a porcelain doll. And who knows? Maybe you will.

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aioironwaterfilter · 29 days ago

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abroaddream · 2 years ago

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moralesmilesanhour · 10 months ago

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mad props! 05

summary: you learn a couple new things about Miles as you fall into your new study routine. wc: 1.1k start from the beginning prev next a/n: probs won't update regularly if i'm being transparent but i gotta wrap the story up! so expect more in the coming weeks probably. and before you ask no this does not mean i'm returning to writing reader insert i am just finishing what i started bc i feel like i owe it to my audience ! much love <3

The auditorium was empty during lunchtime, which meant that no one was there to spectate as the sound of your voice echoed through the rows of unoccupied seats. You were working on one of the numbers from the second act.

“It’s not up to me…Just let me be…Legally–”

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You sighed, not needing to look up to know who it was.

“Have you come to take me away?” you asked dryly as you descended down the steps and trudged over to where Miles stood in the middle of the aisle with a smug look on his face.

“You can finish your song, if you want.”

You brushed right past him towards the double doors.

“Stop pretending to be nice.”

Essentially being a teacher’s assistant, Miles had elevator privileges that removed the hassle of climbing up five flights of stairs to reach Mr. Sanchez’s classroom, making it the most (and perhaps the only) pleasant part of the experience.

Sanchez was digging into a bowl of salad when the two of you arrived.

“Ah! Buenas tardes,” he greeted hastily through a mouthful of lettuce. “Thank you for being on time.”

You shoved past Miles and rushed over to the professor’s desk.

“I just have to make up for last week’s missing homework and a couple quizzes, right?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also–”

“Can I just do that at home, then? All due respect, but I really don’t need a partner to–”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand to stop you. “You also have some gaps in understanding when it comes to grammatical concepts such as presente and futuro, missing assignments notwithstanding. You’ll go over those with Miles first before making up last Friday’s quiz independently. Comprende?”

You visibly deflated where you stood. To tell the truth, the different tenses were never your strong suit, but you were able to get away with that with flawless vocabulary memorization and verb conjugation (in the present tense, of course). Now? Not so much.

“Comprende,” you groaned before turning away to grab a seat.

Miles had already taken a chair and pulled it up to one of the desks in the front, and was sitting on it backwards with his notebook in front of him.

“Ready, partner?” he said with a wide, mocking grin. He knew you couldn’t tell him to shut up in front of Sanchez.

You rolled your eyes and sat down with a slump.

“Let’s get it over with.”

He opened his notebook and flipped through a few messy pages before landing on a blank sheet. Sloppily ripping it free from its binding, he took out a Sharpie (which he uncapped with his teeth) and began to draw a line down the middle.

“What are you doing?”

He began writing a series of words down either side of the line.

“Helping you.”

Miles slid the piece of paper towards you.

It was a verb conjugation chart, labeled ‘Past Tense’ in his strange handwriting that made no distinction between upper and lower-case letters.

“I’m gonna give you a sentence, and you repeat it back to me in the past tense. Then we’re gonna do the same thing in futuro.”

You sulked, “How come you don’t have to memorize anything? You said you don’t even study.”

He gave you a blank, ‘are-you-stupid’ look.

“I speak Spanish.”

“No duh, I mean in every other class. You know the whole periodic table front-to-back.”

“Huh? Oh, photographic memory. I only need to read something once,” he tapped his forehead, “then it’s locked in.”

Stunned, you could do nothing but lean back in your chair and slowly shake your head.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

The rest of that week had you repeating the same song and dance of trudging into Sanchez’s classroom and running drills with Miles and his impromptu conjugation charts. For every wrong answer, Miles made an incredibly irritating sound that was meant to imitate a game show buzzer, which forced you to pay more attention to minimize how often you had to hear it.

You hated to admit it, but at some point you began to retain the tenses with more ease than before and noticed a steady increase in your quiz grades as a result.

Thursday after school saw you arrive at an empty auditorium, thirty minutes before rehearsal. Any normal student would spend this extra time studying or doing homework, but you had seen enough flashcards and charts to last you a lifetime. Instead, you pulled out your highlighted copy of the sheet music for ‘Chip on My Shoulder’ and began rehearsing as a one-man ensemble.

Your singing today felt more difficult than usual; the lyrics suddenly felt heavy on your tongue, the notes coming out strained and forced. In the middle of a line, the double doors swung open just as your voice cracked.

“Damn, were you lip-syncing this whole time? You sound rough.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course it had to be him.

Miles sounded nearly out-of-breath as he strolled past you, his uniform rumpled shirt and un-tucked, as if he’d just put it on. The band-aid on his forehead was joined by another, more colorful one on his cheek.

“As if you could do better,” you scoffed as you watched him toss his bag onto an empty chair two seats away from where you sat.

He looked up with a mischievous grin.

“I could.”

“Oh?” You smirked and shoved the sheet music into his face. “Try it, then.”

Miles squinted at it before pushing it away.

“Pfft, this song is lightwork. I don’t need that.”

“Alright, then recite your lines. I’ll start,” you inhaled deeply and held up the lyrics. “ ‘You came out here–’”

“‘To follow a man? Harvard Law was part of that plan? Man, what rich, romantic planet are you from?’”

Startled by his near-perfect pitch, you stuttered, lowering the sheet of paper a bit to give Miles an odd look.

He continued, “ ‘Instead of lying outside by the pool, you stalk some guy to an Ivy League School’...et cetera.”

You blinked in utter disbelief. Miles’ voice had a tone as clear as a bell, and flawless diction to match. If he had auditioned, he would’ve been a shoe-in.

“...Huh. You sing? Like, actually?”

He shrugged, “I used to lead the choir at church, but not anymore.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah followed by a handful of tech kids began trickling into the auditorium.

“Oh, sweet, you guys are early!” Sarah nodded, making two check marks on her clipboard as her bag hung off of one shoulder. “Miles, d’you wanna help figure out the lighting situation for the show? Josh said you were good with color.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“You’re amazing, dude. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten those sets done without you.”

“All in a day’s work!”

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales fic #atsv fic #atsv #moralesanhour

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cxsmiicc · 3 months ago

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dead broke and broken hearted - dragons pov

unfinished and i dont plan on finishing it (at least anytime soon im crazy busy) but @hahnspoetry wanted it so here u go bestie

1.1k, goes with the other pov which is buried somewhere on here or on my ao3, direct link to story in title

wlw, lesbian sex, vaginal fingering, false identity, a shoe breaks that def happened, mistress kink sort of, rough sex, grinding (copied these from the other pov so may not be fully accurate)

Muscles you didn’t even know you had ached as you trudged back to the inn, feet scarcely leaving the ground and shoulders dropping lower with every step, exhaustion set deep into your bones. The dreary building was hardly anyones dream home, but at least it was warm. And the rent was… negotiable. Passing through the gate with no hassle thanks to the late hour, you sped up somewhat at the sight of a flicker in your window. It was too steady to be coming from one of the handheld lanterns the local looters favoured, yet too faint for someone to be waiting to talk to you. That left one option, and the thought had you slowing back down again, conserving what little energy you had left.

One black leather boot crunched into the gravel harder than it should’ve and you saw the sole peel away from the rest of the shoe, cursing loudly and earning a filthy look from a washerwoman working overtime. If tonight went as hoped, a new pair would be easily obtained. You finally reached the door after what felt like an age of walking, pausing to take a breath before pushing hard on the wood and biting back a grin at the sight awaiting you.

The landlord, or landlady rather, was exquisite. Especially in her current state, so clearly through with the days work yet letting it show rather than taking the minute required to run a brush through her hair. No, she knew what drove you crazy by now and ensured that it was all she showed to you. Ever so slightly unkempt, what remaining clothes she wore crumpled and long dark hair flying madly about her face, she lounged against the stack of pillows on your bed armed with a smirk that loosened your corset ties then and there. Beautiful beyond comprehension.

“You put in for an extra week.”

Reaching down to remove your now broken boots, you let her voice wash over you, accent so different from your own and intoxicating in its allure. Tugging one ankle free, you tipped your head back to ask her, “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Mmmm, shouldn’t be,” she reached up, both stretching and giving you time to think, “Provided you continue being so timely with payments.”

Both feet now free, you tossed the useless shoes aside and made your way to the bed.

“I wouldn’t dream of being late, my lady,” You told her, punctuating the address with a sickening smile, honey laced with cyanide.

“Enough of these games.”

Even while you were a ways away from the bed, some invisible force drove you forward until her lips found yours. Her kiss was violent, explosive, and you needed it more than the air you so sorely missed. Somehow you wound up pressed against the sheets, Selene atop you with her hands desperately working at the many fastenings of your outfit. The kiss finally broke when she dragged your shirt over your head, corset lying underneath you with every pin undone.

“How you do that so fast I will never understand, it takes me years to get in and out of it.”

The smirk was back as she moved onto the lower portion of your dress, made easier by the lack of petticoats.

“I’d be more than happy to assist, but I fear I’d be reluctant to see it put back on.”

Skirts now around your ankles, she could see precisely how much her words affected you and simply groaned at the visible wet patch on your underthings and dragged them off of you. Now that you were bare and at her mercy, she moved to straddle you before pausing and panning her fingertips over your sides, admiring all that was hers. For you were hers, that much was never in doubt. Everything there was about your body, she knew, and every instrument possible of pleasing you she was a maestro of.

Getting restless, you went to grab her hands, beg her to do something, but she caught onto the attempt and pinned you down, leaning over you as she did so, raven hair tickling your chest.

“No. You will wait, and if I decide that you deserve it you shall get something, but not before I am sated. Do you understand?”

Your voice caught in your throat before you managed to get the words out. “Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I understand, nothing for me until you’re satisfied mistress.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, she began shedding her own clothes, a much faster affair than ridding you of yours, simply pulling her dress over her head and tearing one simple underskirt away. A clever shift of her hips later and her dripping entrance was hovering over your waiting mouth. It seemed she craved you as much as you did her. She said the things she did for a reason after all, and cumming in your mouth appeared to be her raison d’être.

Wasting no time, you wrapped your arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, maintaining the pressure you knew she needed as your tongue began its work. Roughly circling her clit, you focused on the sounds she was making above you and moved accordingly, switching down to let her ride you when the rolling of her hips became too much, delighting in the wicked noises and near fall when you sucked hard. This rhythm continued until she was naught but instinct, rocking against your mouth as she gripped your upper arm desperately, silently signalling her satisfaction even as her cum was still gushing down your cheeks.

Ever so slightly out of breath she asked, “Mmmmm, do you think you deserve your turn?”

Your voice was muffled under her as you replied, “Not up to me.”

“Oh you are good for me aren’t you,” she said as she slid down to press her lips to yours again, moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue as she pushed her own to meet it.

All too soon she was moving on, leaving you breathless and quivering with need as her teeth sunk into the soft juncture of your neck, tongue darting out to soothe the sting even while she did it again and again, creating marks that would surely be seen for weeks. Somehow you never doubted that this was precisely her intention, letting Cairhien know that your body was hers to do with what she wished, when she wished it. Each time she went lower and lower, until she hit your chest and sparks flew behind your eyes as she started there, ruining the delicate skin with her bites yet still you relished it. Her hands darted up to pay attention to your other side while her tongue occupied one nipple, pulling and flicking at your breast until your breathing was just right, as though she were tuning an instrument.

#wheel of time #lanfear #natasha o'keeffe #ao3 #the wheel of time #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #lanfear fanfic #lanfear fic #lanfear x reader #lanfear x dragon #wheel of time fic #wheel of time fanfic #wot fanfic #wot on prime #selene #selene wot

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inkpot909 · 5 months ago

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Staying Over at Rohan Kishibe’s House for the First Time Headcanons

↳ Takes place after Kira escapes from the Duwang gang and assumes another identity. Reader hinted to be a stand user. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve recently started the live action Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan show; I adore it. I’m rather biased towards his character, finding him wildly entertaining. But Araki, man, I get you. I hope y’all enjoy! <3

Warning(s): Canon-typical danger; mentions of Kira’s crimes and the threat he imposes.

You’ve only been going out with Rohan Kishibe for a month or two.

When the manga artist took a month’s long hiatus from publishing- due to a rather unfortunate scuffle with one Josuke Higashitaka -you’d been by his side nearly day and night. Considering the state his body was in, you couldn’t help but fuss over him all throughout his recovery.

The first couple of days, Rohan was bitter and insisted his own independence.

He claimed he ‘doesn’t need anyone's help,’ but his protests ultimately fell on deaf ears. You made it clear you weren’t budging; proving to be just as stubborn as he is.

A handful of days into the new routine, he grew quiet.

And to your credit, you didn’t bat much of an eye at that. If you were at all curious over the change in his behavior, you kept that to yourself. Keeping any questions inside as you continued to dote on him. He… found that he really appreciated that.

And after some consideration, the free time allowing him to ponder, he better understood just how much he appreciates you. Wrapping his head around it… he would’ve grown annoyed at the trouble if it weren’t for his fondness for you.

Eventually, after the first week, it seemed to you that he suddenly started silently accepting your help out of the blue.

There was no pushing back against the assistance anymore.

Rohan needed to take the time off from writing or drawing, liking it or not. Having specifically your company to fill the time… well, he could’ve done worse (His exact words).

Whether or not Rohan had the beating coming didn’t once cross your mind; only your concern over his well-being plagued your thoughts. It’s something that came so naturally to you; the feelings you harbor for the mangaka not as much of a hassle for you to digest.

That said, neither did the possibility of him taking any note of your kindness reach your train of thought. At first, you figured him saying any variation of ‘thank you’ was just politeness.

Even less… your deeper affection for him is another thing you figured would go unaddressed.

Regardless of your surprise, the time spent together proved to be the final push the both of you needed to make things official.

He was direct, almost blunt, when asking you about your feelings for him. Eyes focused on you, falling expectantly silent as he waited for an answer.

When did he notice? How long had he been sitting on asking you about it? You could only guess.

But the relationship that formed that day was more than enough for you to be thankful you’d been completely honest with him.

It’s… rather unfortunate a relationship blossomed during such a dark time for the quiet town of Morioh. Koichi, Josuke, and Okuyasu shared the same sentiment on the matter.

Fast forward a handful of weeks later and tragedy struck once more. The killer had taken action against a middle schooler; his devilish nature clearly knowing no bounds.

Although you didn’t know the boy personally, just the thought of this illusive killer taking a young life so completely without hint or warning… it quickly sent shivers down your spine.

After meeting with the other stand users in town, the lump in your throat only became thicker. Your stomach swirling, and palms growing clammy.

The little crowd dissipated, and you walked away from the gathering with Rohan at your side.

The two of you remained silent; too much on both of your minds to speak.

Your gaze stayed fixated on the concrete sidewalk. Each crack or indent from lifetimes of personalities meeting it’s support… and possibility being used by him. Your feet potentially using a route the killar has utilized at least once in all his time in Morioh.

That possibility makes another chill roll down your spine.

You would’ve thought yourself to be paranoid if it weren’t the reality you were living. Succumbing to your darkest thoughts and a level of anxiety that somehow kept your body moving forward on auto-pilot.

At least, that was until the mangaka walking beside you finally spoke up, not even glancing your way as he did so.

“You should stay at my place for the time being,” he had told you in a frank tone, “Your stand still hasn’t fully materialized like mine or the others. If the killer were to track you down, you’d likely be at a huge disadvantage. You’re staying with me.”

If it were coming from anyone else, you’d consider slapping them due to the nerve of it.

But this is Rohan... and reading into his actions has become second nature to you at this point.

You considered his earlier quietness; what you could discern from a quick glance minutes ago. His eyes sharp with thought, and the usually comfortable silence uncharacteristically thick with tension.

His decisive tone didn’t come as a surprise, but the commanding structure and choice of his words got the gears in your mind turning.

Rohan’s reasoning was sound, sure, but a man like him only ever speaks with purpose. He means every word that pools from his lips. And the knowledge of how he behaves in less extreme situations implicitly reveals his true feelings on the matter:

He was worried.

The killer’s ability to murder right underneath everyone’s noses became real that day. Even with the previous killings, it didn’t strike the same chord until one of your own had been lost. No one is untouchable, and that strikes fear.

In short, the killer is dangerous... and likely knows people are out looking for him.

Rohan would never speak a word of it, but that reality struck unease even into him. If not maybe for his own sake, but for yours.

And it manifests exactly as you would expect. It could easily be left unnoticed, but you know him better than to miss such a thing.

Rohan’s motivation was clear in no time at all. The town just lost another child to this monster. Hell if he’s going to let you to slip right from underneath his nose.

Coupled with that overwhelming weight, as well as his own personal habits, don’t expect staying over at his place to feel all that domestic as soon as you cross through the front door.

Rohan cares about you, of course, but that’s not going to stop him from making a beeline to his office the moment he’s inside.

His home is familiar, no doubt, but provides no ease with him locked up inside his workroom.

There isn’t a single noise behind the closed door, letting your mind trick yourself into believing you’re alone.

The bare walls and simple furniture don’t assist much either, even with art hung up on display here and there. Only glimpses of personal touch.

As soon as the killer is dealt with, you resolve to press him about decorating more.

Hours pass your very first day there, and the only time you ever see him is when he grabbed a little box of leftovers from the refrigerator for dinner. Only focused on satisfying his body’s need for food, he hadn’t said a passing word.

You knew better than to expect it anyway.

Instead, he simply warmed the food up in an expensive-looking microwave a room away, and was already working on shoving it impatiently in his mouth while walking right back upstairs...

How long has it been since then? you wonder, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

You’ve sat yourself on Rohan's welcoming couch, distracting yourself with late night television. The couch itself is a dull color with nice cushions, but lacking in the household-to-household personality only developed from frequent use. A blanket is lazily wrapped around your shoulders, and the TV screen gently illuminates your face. Your eyes gloss over the images that flash at you, seeing but not registering a single thing.

There’s no helping it. A child died today; the killer slick and tactful enough not to leave a single trace behind.

You turn away from the screen in quiet defeat, gaze wandering out a window in the living room. The sun has long vanished beneath the horizon, the darkness outside not allowing you to view much of anything.

Your eyelids are fighting to stay open despite your mind’s business.

A part of you was hoping Rohan would’ve come out of his study by now, but that’s proven to be wishful thinking. Honestly… I should know better than to assume that, you think to yourself.

The current situation has undoubtedly given him a lot to ponder; a lot to write down.

Staring back towards at his living room TV once more, you give no honest effort in trying to paying attention. The sitcom provides no escape, no relief. It’s nothing real, after all. Just a fantasy fabricated by some executive. The constant laugh tracks grating on the eardrums. The volume is low, but it still disrupts regardless.

Alas, nothing else of such promising whimsy is on.

Your fingertips curl, grasping at the blanket around your shoulders. The soft surface stresses in your tight hold. You bite your lower lip in consideration, so hard you have to cut it out less you accidentally cut any skin.

The show takes a sudden pause to provide a few minutes of advertisements. Images of impossibly tempting pizza and seafood flicker on the screen, price tags proudly displayed and narrations enthusiastically going on about how ‘worth it’ the food is. Your lips tighten, and eyebrows furrow. You’re not hungry, so the images do nothing but annoy.

Still, you do anything to ensure you’re still awake for just a little while longer. A necessary factor in the decision your mind finally screamed at you to just follow through with.

Go say goodnight to Rohan, and just go to freaking bed already.

Moving carefully slow, you work on shutting down the TV and peeling yourself from the couch. You swear the process takes minutes at a time, though you don’t check the clock hanging on the wall to confirm. You’d have to squint in order to properly digest it in the dark lighting; why extend the effort?

Mentally saying goodbye to the living room with a final glance, your feet scrape the wooden flooring to move your body towards the stairs ascending to the second floor.

You’re cautious of making any noise while walking steadily closer to his study, keenly aware of your boyfriend’s need for peace and quiet.

Stopping right in front of the closed door, you take in a deep breath before knocking as lightly as you can muster. Knowing full-well he’d have heard it, you don’t wait for a response before entering.

It’s a privilege you gladly wear on your sleeve.

“Rohan…?” you gingerly call, poking your head into the room.

It’s dimly lit inside, only his desk lamp illuminating whatever it is he’s hunched over. No sunlight is present outside, yet the shades are drawn anyway.

There’s a brief pause before he turns his body around in his chair, looking at you with a raised brow. “What do you need?” he asks.

The tone of his voice is a soft reflection of a gentle atmosphere present in the air. Much more welcoming than the walk earlier. That said, there’s impatience laced in his tone- something that he never cares to hide.

You smile, thankful of his subtle movements.

Sure, he doesn’t like being interrupted by anyone. But even Koichi would be met with a harsh word or two at an interruption.

But you’re different. A familiar and welcome presence. If it weren’t getting so late, he may have offered you to look at what he’s been working on. It’s a fact that either feeds right into your ego or is too flustering to ponder further.

Maybe somewhere in between.

“I was just going to head to bed… I wanted to say goodnight and-” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “-I’m also wondering where I should sleep is all. You’ve got a lot of empty rooms, so I just wanted to make sure-“

“Just sleep in my bed,” he cuts you off, the tone of his voice completely serious.

“I-… your…” you hesitate, taken aback by his bluntness. Rohan is truly something else; causing you to short-circuit with five simple words. “But where will you sleep?”

God, I sound ridiculous, you think.

A chuckle escapes his lips, turning to look down at his desk once more. You hear a distant scraping noise, evidence that he’s started drawing again.

“You know we’re dating, right? I’m still going to work for a while longer. But I’ll join you in bed later.” He tells you, leaning his head back momentarily as if this conversation is a tad bit pointless to him. Still, he adds with a sigh, “But of course, if that would cause you discomfort, then feel free to take the guest bedroom across from mine.”

You shake your head slowly, even though he’s no longer looking at you. Stay in a different room? No way. His sigh tells you he finds that idea undesirable as well.

“I’ll stay with you. I wouldn’t want to be alone tonight anyways. Goodnight then… make sure you get some rest, Rohan,” you say, voice considerably gentler than before.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he responds. “And since you’re telling me to do so… then I’ll consider it.”

You can hear the smile in his voice.

He was just so… upfront about it.

Your eyes stay widened even as you shut his office door. Standing completely still right outside his work space for a full minute before daring to peer down the hallway leading to the master bedroom.

His bedroom… the one he so casually welcomed you to join him in.

That warms your chest for the first time in hours. The smallest amount of comfort is provided just seeing him again. Remembering, oh right, he’s in the same space as you.

But the added prospect of sleeping at his side… that manages to pull your mind away from Morioh’s affliction.

How could you hope to refuse a suggestion like that?

You begin to make your way to the room, but your feet do not drag this time around.

If Rohan said it’s okay, then it really is. There’s no need to doubt yourself when he’s invited you so clearly; he’d be offended if you didn’t take his word for it.

Inside the bedroom is neat and clean.

A little bare, granted, but there is some more artwork hung up on the wall- evidentially an unsurprising consistent in his home. There’s a mirror above a large wooden dresser as well- a photo of his parents sitting on top of the mahogany surface.

The dresser itself is a little redundant, considering a walk-in closet across the room. Or maybe it’s perfectly reasonable. You hardly ever see Rohan wearing the same outfit twice.

The door itself is left thoughtlessly open, the darkness within the confined space making your stomach churn. No windows present inside, it’s the purest void in the home.

You make your way to it in just a couple quick steps, and shut it with a frown on your face.

The door’s soft click shut causes a huff to leave your nostrils, as if you’d just saved yourself from something life-threatening.

The only other notable object in the room, aside from two nightstands, is a large bed.

It’s the only thing within eye-shot not meticulously put together. Sheets and blankets left on the mattress without being remade.

The pillows on one half of the bed still indented from daily use. The sheets themselves are silk, and similarly to the pillows on the same side, the imprint of your boyfriend’s body rolling out it earlier that day is still visible.

He clearly doesn’t spend much time in his bedroom.

You still find yourself hoping the bed smells like him regardless. Silence undercut with the sounds of you discarding the clothes you’d worn that day. They stink of sweat, a reminder of how nervous you’d gotten just before dinner time.

Your sleeping clothes, luckily, hold no such memory. Comfortable and encouraging sleep; just what you needed.

And Lord, you were right about the sheets smelling like Rohan.

Laying down on the unused side of the mattress, you are overwhelmed by a lovely mix of his favorite cologne and his natural scent. You’re ashamed to have taken in a couple deep breaths the moment you make yourself comfortable.

After one of the most frightful days of your entire life, you couldn’t think of a better end to it.

Rohan clearly doesn’t cheap out on his own bed set either, much to your delight. The comforter is engulfing and enough to lull your occupied mind into shifting gears.

Now, your only lamenting over just how truly tired you feel. And the silk sheets almost make you feel envious of your boyfriend. Almost.

It would if it weren’t for the simple fact that maybe... just maybe staying over will become a regular occurrence.

Situation called for everyone to look out for one another, but the barrier has been broken regardless. And it’s a pleasant thing to ponder during the last few minutes of your day.

Staying with Rohan. In his own space. A habit lasting long after the killer is gone and dealt with.

Even in the dark, new space, you cannot help but smile. Your eyes finally flutter shut, but the groggy joy displayed doesn’t falter.

Rohan’s casual attitude over you sleeping in the same bed as him makes you believe it really might become a regular occurrence. At least… he likely wouldn’t turn you down asking to stay over for a night (Not that you’ve ever asked before).

The future of your relationship eclipses your fear just long enough to allow for genuine rest.

Already fallen asleep by the time he retreats to the bedroom after hours of non-stop work, Rohan himself slips into the room quietly a few minutes past midnight.

Observing your peaceful form sleeping in his own bed fills him with a sort of pride he only ever used to associate with his writing.

Not that he’d ever directly admit to such a thing. He’s with you after all, and that clearly depicts how he feels.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Because regardless… he still finds himself contemplating you while he changes his clothes.

Your understanding of just his actions and the subtle inflections in his expressions is something to be admired.

Hell, you are someone to be admired in general. Pictures of you sprinkled in his sketchbook, an eager desperation to capture what he sees on the page.

He figures he could study you for hours at a time if you let him.

Just a couple months into being official and you’ve already proven yourself to be the loyal partner he always hoped to find, however deep down that desire may had been kept.

Deep down.... he ponders, slipping into bed next to you. Turning his head in your direction, he stares shamelessly while thinking.

Rohan’s own hopes lie in learning how to properly express himself to you.

So accommodating yourself... it makes him want to commit to giving you a fulfilling relationship. It’s a feeling he’s recently gotten around to fully understanding, but one that in the shadows of a gloomy night... he silently embraces.

Just the same as him physically reaching out an arm to embrace you, just before resigning himself to a deep sleep...

When you finally wake, Rohan has already gotten up and left you to sleep in peace. Late to rest, early to rise.

What catches your immediate attention, though, is the smell of coffee brewing in the floor below you. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t bother changing just yet before pulling yourself from the mattress. The wooden flooring chills the pads of your feet, but it does nothing to hinder your journey out of his bedroom.

Walking silently down the hall, that smell only hits your nostrils harder. Warm and fresh… you sigh, I can feel myself waking up already.

And if the scent of coffee doesn't do the trick, turning a corner to spot Rohan sipping out of a cup held in his hand at the dining room table certainly does.

His hair is still a bit ruffled from sleep, along with the notable absence of any color variation of headband. A robe lazily holds onto his shoulders, loosely tied around his waist to stay in place. His expression is neutral, face pointed down to the newspaper held in his other hand.

Those familiar green eyes flicker up at you when you enter. Although you tread lightly around his home, any noise around him is hardly ever missed.

“Good morning, Y/n,” he greets you gently, setting down his newspaper. It’s only when he examines you does it cross your mind that you quite literally rolled out of bed, and likely look like it too. An amused expression reaches his face as he adds, “Slept well?”

“Yes... I did,” you confirm, touching the ends of your hair. Only for it to drop a moment later; under his observation your only met with warmth. Prompting you to approach the table instead of growing anxious.

You don’t sit down, but you can more clearly examine the details of his face from your position.

“Your bed is very comfortable,” you go on with a smile. “I’m almost jealous.”

He chuckles at your last statement, his smirk shifting to a more genuine smile. Followed by a nod and hum of approval. Rohan takes a moment to take a sip from his cup of coffee, and you give him that moment patiently.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, “I do my best to get my eight hours, after all.”

Being someone so meticulous over environment, his response confirms your suspicion that he takes a special care in where he sleeps. Your smile grows wider.

“You think that means I just need to sleep over in order to get my full eight hours?”

Rohan lets out a scoff at that, the sound hiding a laugh at your eager question. “For me, dear. Not for you. You could sleep on the damn floor for all I care.”

“Now, Rohan-“

“But the theory is certainly worth a try,” he cuts you off, that easy smile still on his face. A mischievous gleam flickering in his eyes.

Oh.

“Then we ought to… your bed is really lovely. I’d hate to waste the opportunity,” you reply, picking up what he was putting down. Your tone turns cheeky as you add, “Plus, getting to sleep next to you… well, that’s cool too, I guess.”

“Just cool? You guess? Sleeping beside me?” he scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee. “I made extra coffee, by the way. Go grab yourself a cup; you clearly need it.”

You laugh at his words, glancing over to the coffee pot still sitting patiently on the stove. It’s tempting to go and do as he suggested right away.

Noting to do so in a moment, you turn back to Rohan and ask, “You’re going to be working most of the day today, I assume?"

“Yes,” he nods, “But I can spare some time in the morning.”

You could just faint.

Once again, you know full well there's no one else he'd be willing to spend extra time lounging about in the morning for other than you.

Sensing the joy his words send you, he tilts his head toward the counter. His eyebrows raising as if to say, ‘I’m not going to ask you again.’

A single night to adjust, and staying over at his place is everything you hoped for.

His hospitality... others may not think it, but Rohan is quite fair. He speaks to you directly, welcoming you to join him in whatever he’s doing if he isn’t burying himself in his work.

Most notably, he’ll want you to help him do any of his research. Or rather, he’d like to info dump while skimming through books in or outside the home.

It’s one of several ways he opens his mind to you.

He’ll make extra coffee for you in the morning, sure, but he’s also insistent on making you dinner- depending how sucked into working he gets.

If you take initiative and cook a meal for the both of you, he won’t let it happen again no matter how grateful he may be. You’re still his guest, after all. Better a host treats their guest (He wants to show off for you).

He’ll take you out with him during his non-work-related errands as well.

Rohan doesn’t explicitly tell you why, but it seems to make mundane tasks much easier for him to endure. He isn’t scowling the entire time if you’re there, at least.

All and all, he hopes this will become a habit as much as you do. Expressing that he likes having you there with him in his own special way.

#johnny’s work #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #rohan kishibe #rohan kishibe x reader #fluff #manga #anime #jjba part 4 #fanfiction #writing #headcanons

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