Unreliable narrator with superiority complex anyone?
Not a single story about Nemo out there so I take fate in my own hands.
In which you are the third Dimoche sister and Nemo is your stepbrother.
One sided / Or is it? / A lot of back and forth / Nemo is miserable as ever / a lot of introspection / disgusting overthinking / seductress reader / or a creep, it's up to your perception my darling reader / platonic Sean x reader / slight Sean x reader
You know the kind of people that on top of being meek, they also love to drown in self pity? That's who Nemo is. So no, I don't feel sorry about someone's self-made misery <3
TW: Bullying, bully reader, power imbalance, stepcest, pseudo instest, manipulative reader, jealous reader
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"Ah, you got here earlier than everyone and now you wait on your own?"
You.
First thing that you did as you got down the stairs, was rushing to the living area where there was a mirror to go to and fix any 'messy' and unwanted imperfection. For the beautiful women, it is a matter of detail that stakes their image. Refreshing her whole by fixing stray hair and putting anew color on her lips. "What are you looking at? Are you looking for my sisters? Because they're not coming with the first carriage, they wanted to take a walk through the gardens first. Quite boring if you ask me. If I have to walk through those dull gardens one more time I'll voluntarily jump off the window."
Nemo was sitting on the armchair, watching quietly, he didn't seem intimidated by you anymore, but he looked at his feet as he usually does. He thought how someone so beautiful can be so cruel. When you finished speaking and it didn't seem like you had anything else to say Nemo took the hint that he should speak. "H-How are you?" His voice was soft and his nervousness was evident.
"Could be better. I haven't gone out in a while, so going to the church will be my event for this week."
He listened to your blasé complaint while observing you silently, noting your appearance, everything about you was incredibly beautiful, something given, since the triplets of the Dimoche manor were known for their outstanding beauty. With merely the colour of your hair and eyes differing from your sisters. He always stayed impressed for a moment before noticing your mocking smile. "I-I can't say the same." His voice was kept low at all times, he wasn't used to being around you. When you were around it wasn't for good, most often than not he felt intimidated, a result that came from years of bullying and degrading him to break out the grief that cane from your father's death and your ire towards Sylvia and her rascal sons that seemed to always have something in pocket for you and your sisters. "The church?" He asked curiously.
"You're coming too, aren't you? You must be the only one Sylvia still drags along. Today she wants everyone there whatsoever."
"I-I am, I don't know why she still takes me." He replied a little uncomfortable, but he had no choice, so he tried not to sound that way. "But... aren't you uncomfortable with the idea?"
You quirks an eyebrow at him through the living room's mirror, halting on fixing your hair and gloss. "Uncomfortable? Why, I am no demon to be uncomfortable in a church."
He flinched slightly, looking at you through the mirror, he didn't expect you to answer him like that. He thought it would be obvious why he asked. "I-In theory, no... but... " He had doubts about you, the church is a holy place, and you were... anything but holy...
"What?" Your voice drops an octave, along with your now down-turned tinted lips.
Nemo stares at you, still slightly intimidated by your tone of voice, you seemed angry, but he tried to answer anyway. "I... I mean. You don't seem..." A holy woman Those were the only words he could find to express what he really thought about you.
"I don't seem?" You turn slowly to face him forward, Nemo avoided making eye contact for a moment, but when you turned towards him, he couldn't. His eyes fell on your, your e/c hues look intimidating to him, even when you try to act in an innocent manner. He felt small in front of you. That gaze made him want to look down to the floor again. "... Like a good woman..." He muttered quietly.
Glossy downturned lip was replaced by a grin. An amused smile that held back either a scoff or a laughter. You walked over him, torso bending over his sitting form with your hands clasped behind your back.
"Not a good woman? Haha.. and what is a good woman to you?"
He can't help but get nervous by the proximity. He tries to get his words in order but he ends up stuttering from the suffocation he feels.
"W-well... a good woman is supposed to be... kind... compassionate, humble. They... they don't try to provoke others, don't act like they are superior..."
"Well, I suppose this is a reasonable image someone would have." You retreat your body, standing in front of him with a straight form instead. "And I'm none of that?"
The blonde doesn't answer for a few seconds as he looks up at the girl in front of him. She looked like an angel in his opinion, but her personality contradicted it, no matter how hard she tried to look and sound like an innocent young woman.
He looked back down, unable to maintain eye contact any longer, and spoke in a low voice. "You know you aren't..."
The smirk reappeared, this time as a side grin. "And who is all of that, in your eyes?"
Nemo's mind immediately went to Aida, as usual, but he was careful not to say her name in front of you for obvious reasons...
He glanced up for a moment before he replied.
"Well, there are... many people who are like that and... I could say A-Aisha too, I guess..."
"Ah, yes, Aisha is a humble woman. But is she compassionate?"
Nemo was surprised that you would keep picking on his mention of Aisha, but he was not surprised that you questioned her compassion. He contemplated for a moment, even though he didn't have to.
He tried to think of a way to answer without sounding like he was talking bad about her.
"... In..." His voice lowered as he spoke carefully. "her own way, she is."
"No. I don't think that you mean that." You still smiles at him, despite the mockery of it disappearing and instead giving way to understanding. "So." You clasps your hands together, having started a game only you are eager to play. "We are looking for a woman who is kind, compassionate, humble. Who does not provoke others and does not act superior. Who could that good woman be?"
Nemo frowned slightly, a knot formed in his stomach. He was already suspecting what the answer was. But still, he wasn't completely sure, so he tried to maintain his calm. He looked down at his lap, knowing where this was going. All this years and the girl... the woman, in front of him was still as unpredictable as ever in all the ways she found to torture him, yet he still knew not to provoke her ugly envious feelings to bloom more.
".... I don't know." The answer was more of a whisper from his lips.
"Ah...but you do know." You slightly bend over his form again, looking at him with that flaming, piercing gaze. "Why don't you say it out loud for me to hear?"
He could feel his heart start to beat faster when you got closer, eyes on him. For a moment, Nemo thought of what he could answer, avoiding his reply wasn't a possibility, so he tried to be as honest as possible.
"... I guess... I would be thinking of Aida..."
"Aida." Strangely enough you seem to genuinely agree, nodding your head, thought there is something grave in your voice when spelling your sister's name. "But!-" you unexpectedly spell the word with punctuation on the 'B' and 'T' "Is - she - humble?"
He could hear the grim in your voice, he could feel the cold sweat in his body. He was unsure whether to answer, but he knew he had to. The blonde man swallowed discreetly and tried to keep composure, but his voice trembled as he spoke.
"... No..."
"Therefore, we have three women, which, aside of their face, nothing else is alike one another. Three women with three wholly different personalities that none of them come as completely 'good' to you. So in conclusion. The kind of woman you are talking about, is quite rare. I suppose, you could find one in the imaginary scenes of frescoes or the holy books, such as the Bible."
A pregnant pause.
He couldn't deny what was just said because, deep down, he felt that there was some truth in your words. In the end, there was no such thing as a perfect woman, Nemo didn't know why he thought there would be. He felt defeated for a moment, but what could he say?
... He felt like a fool
"Y-yeah... I guess you're right...." He mumbled in a low tone.
"Nemo."
His body tensed up when at the call of his name. He instinctively braced himself for another taunt or something alike that.
"Yes?"
"What is a good man to you?" You sat on the sofa's hand, your legs apart from one another thought you didn't seem bothered by it, even while your skirt was now sticking on your slender form.
He was surprised by the sudden question. He knew you were trying to provoke or expose him like you just did, but he decided to keep his composure and answer without looking so nervous. Nemo swallowed discreetly and began to speak, listing the main characteristics as he looked at you.
"... A-A good men is... kind, hardworking, honest. Humble, compassionate"
"Mm" The girl scrunches at her chin, "and do you think you are a good man?"
Nemo looks at a point on the floor, avoiding eye contact for a moment before replying. He muttered softly, a hint of insecurity in his voice.
"... I don't know"
"Ah, but you are all that... aside from hard working. But I suppose your painting hobby could count as a form of hard work."
You watched as he couldn't help but smile sheepishly. It was weird for him to hear you say something like that, without mockery or irony. He wasn't sure if it was being sincere or not, but he tried to take it that way.
"Yeah... I guess it is in some way..."
He noticed your half-successful attempt to hide your smile behind your elegant hand, he found this sight quite captivating. Staring for a few moments, taking in your features and your amused expression, his eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds, but he quickly looked away, trying to keep a composure. It was difficult not to notice your natural seductive beauty, yet he scolded himself in his mind for appreciating it so much.
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It was a busy Sunday for all. All masters of the Dimoche manor showed to the liturgy that followed in the morning. Sean had shown up late as he liked to make an impression wherever he went, even if that was a holy place.
However even when he gave his present, he did not pray. He never did. He merely held his hands behind his back the way a sinner would.
Sean had already gotten scolded by his mother for not having come with them, now that he was here, his eyes were searching for either silver or h/c hair.
He had a smirk as his eyes met with e/c orbs.
The triplets, although they still looked alike even as they got older, had all different reactions when dealing with Sean. While Aida was swooning over Sean and Aisha was trying her best to not meet with him, keeping their relationship at that. The youngest was merely seeing a stepbrother in him, she would talk and try to approach him, but only to a point.
Sean let out a quiet hum, still watching the h/c intently. His expression was blank and his face was almost covered by the iridescent shadows of the windows' colorful glass. His arms still behind his back, he stepped towards the triplets who were standing from the chairs praying. "You're late Sean, what does Madame Sylvia have to say about this I wonder." There is no hold back from the smirk that has formed on your plush lips.
Sean let out a huff and returned the expression, crossing his arms in front of his chest while taking a few steps closer. "Madame Sylvia will have to get used to the fact that I have no interest in going to the church" His emerald green eyes peaked from underneath his eyelashes, as he stepped over, lanky form towering over yours.
You lean close to him too, near enough for what you whisper to be heard. "Me neither, but it isn't fair if your sisters come along while you stay back in the sanctuary of the manor's walls."
Sean mimics you, lowering his head so that he could whisper directly into your ear. His breath fanning over your skin as the tip of his nose almost touches over the lobe. "If you don't want to go to the church, then why are you here?" His voice was low and seductive, having a playful tilt rare for a man to own. Aida catched a glimpse of that, scrunching her eyebrows. "Hey what are you two saying?"
"Well, we were just talking. No need to be so concerned Aida."
"This is hardly the place. Please wait until we get home." Stepped in a voice from the right. The girl was keeping her head forward, directed solely at the chanting priest.
Sean sighed thought his smirk didn't falter.
"You worry too much Miss Aisha, I wasn't going to do anything to her."
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The Dimoche sisters stand over their seats at the back of the church. Nemo can't help but feel a sense of unease as he sees you clasping your hands together in prayer. He knows all too well how false and hoax you can be. He stands in the front pew with his elder brother and mother, trying to calm his nerves and focus on the mass instead.
But he feels it boring on his back. Your gaze on him, and he wonders if you had noticed him glance at Aida earlier. As it was common he feels uncomfortable under the intense gaze, and he looks back at you, trying to keep his expression stoic. Not wanting to show any weakness or reveal any of his feelings.
After a while, Sean had shown up, always last to make an entrance. He approaches the three Dimoche sisters and the blonde feels a flutter in his chest as he sees Sean talking to Aida... he can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He does turn his attention back to the priest, trying to keep his focus on the mass, but his mind keeps wandering back to those three girls at the back of the church.
Sean seemed to have transfer his attention to the youngest of the triplets, as he whispers something to you, your faces close together. He can't hear what the two are saying, but he can see that it's something that makes them both smile.
He clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white with the effort.
Nemo can't keep his eyes off the scene. He can't help but feel a sense of frustration and helplessness as he sees the pair whispering together, faces only inches apart. He doesn't understand it, why Sean would choose you over Aida, the kindest and most fair of the Dimoche sisters. Nemo knows he has no chance with Aida, but it still hurts to see her being ignored by Sean.
Nemo looks around the church, trying to find someone to distract himself from the scene unfolding before him. His eyes dart around the building, taking in the familiar faces of the townspeople, the religious decorations on the walls. He feels a sense of loneliness, isolated from everyone around him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and looks back at Sean and you... your faces still close together.
Why is he doing this to himself? He can't stop torturing himself with imagines of different possibilities in his head; he pictures Sean with Aida, the kind and refulgent sister, or you, the cruel and cunning one. Both scenarios bring up different feelings, each worse than the other. He feels a sense of jealousy and anger at the thought of Sean being with Aida, which was understandable by his point. But he also felt a sense of dread at the thought of him being with you. This was what he could not understand. He's lost in his thoughts, unsure of what he even wants anymore.
His mind races as he tries to figure out which possibility is worse. He can't decide, torn between his jealousy towards Sean getting close to Aida and the fear of Sean being close to you instead. He can't help but picture you together, whispering and giggling, and it fills him with a sense of helplessness. He knows he has no chance with either of the sisters, but the thought of them, one or another, being with Sean - or to be exact - any man in particular, causes an uncomfortable tight feeling in his chest.
Each one of the possible scenarios is worse than the other. However he can't decide which is worse: seeing Sean with Aida or you.
He takes a deep breath and forces himself to think clearly, trying to push aside his jealousy and insecurities. He does realize that it's not his place to decide who either of them should be with, and that it's not his business to meddle in their affairs.
Yet he looks back at his brother and you, faces ever close together, now to a point that they're almost touching, and he can feel his brows scrunch.
He sights deeply, feeling both frustrated and confused.
On the one hand, imagining the brunette with Aida feels like a dagger twisting in his heart, but on the other hand, imagining him with you feels like a punch in the gut.
He's torn, unable to decide which possibility would cause him more pain. He feels like he's trapped in a lose-lose situation, no matter what happens, he knows he'll be hurt either way.
How nice would it be, to stand in Sean's shoes. Unable to choose, just having to decide. It makes him wonder, if he had the chance, who would he choose? Would he choose Aida, the benign and lovely sister, or you, the ignorant yet charming one?
He knows he shouldn't even be thinking about this, but the question is planted in his mind now, and he can't seem to shake it off.
Nemo takes a deep breath and forces himself to think clearly and answer himself honestly. He knows that he should probably say Aida, the one he's had feelings for since he was a child, the kind and gentle one, whose beauty was both radiant and heavenly. But for some reason, he found himself saying something different this time.
He bites his lip, and then finally speaks.
He mutters your name, barely a whisper.
Said woman's eyes, seem stacked at something, somewhere, near Nemo. He first thinks you don't look anywhere in particular, until he notices your eyes being in reality kept on his clasped hands. Nemo feels a shiver run down his spine. He tries not to look back, but he can't help it. He glances up, and your eyes meet, just for a fraction of a second before he looks away again. He feels a flutter in his chest, and tries to push it down, ignoring the strange sensation.
You don't seem to hold any care for making him uncomfortable. You never did; sometimes even seeming rejoiced by it. This was one of these times, he realizes. The blonde feels that very gaze burning into him like a hot iron. He wants to look away, to ignore you, but he can't. He can feel his cheeks growing hotter and hotter as you stare at him.
But he can pretend. So he does. He pretends to be focused on the mass, but he knows, he knows that if he were to turn, those eyes would still be fixed on his hands that were clasped in prayer.
He tried to decipher the expression on your face. Although you looked relaxed, there was a certain hardness in your eyes, almost like you were studying him, taking in his every move and expression.
It makes him feel exposed, almost like the woman can see right through him. He feels like he's under a microscope, and he tries to keep his breathing steady and his face neutral, even though his heart is racing in his chest.
Once the prayer of the Sunday service comes to an end, everyone in the church makes the sign of the cross lastly before taking a line to take their Eucharist before leaving back to their matronly house.
Nemo takes a deep breath and follows the line, waiting his turn. His heart is still racing yet he tries to calm himself, reminding himself that it was just a mass and that he should focus on the communion with God and nothing else. Intertwined by his own inner turmoil, he didn't notice the way you were pushing your way through the crowd to get behind him in line, taking Aida's hand and instructing her to do the same with Aisha as you forcefully pulled them to the front. It wasn't until you were right behind him, your breath on his neck, that Nemo realized that presence. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the soft, melodic voice behind him. He could feel your warm breath on his neck and the subtle scent of your perfume surrounding him. He clenched his fists, trying to control his emotions. He knew he should try to create some distance between you, to break the spell that you have put on him. But he couldn't seem to move. It was as if your presence was a weight, pinning him in place.
His mind started to spin, his thoughts becoming muddled and confused. The combination of the heavy atmosphere, the lingering scent of incense and your intoxicating perfume was enough to drive him mad. He tried to focus on the task at hand, taking his turn to drink from the chalice, but all he could think about was you, standing right behind him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from your body.
Muscle memory came handy when his turn came and he did as he was taught, getting on one knee to genuflect before drinking from the holy grail, to reverence both the host and the cup. He closed his eyes, trying to push back the overwhelming feelings of having you so close. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, you would have disappeared, or that the moment of drinking the communion would help him regain some control over himself. But even with his eyes closed, he could still feel your presence like a ghost, haunting him, sending shivers.
When it was his stepsister's turn he turned distinctly, carefully watching you drink from the chalice, your lips touching the same spot his had on the calix. A strange, inexplicable feeling washed over him, as if by some strange twist of fate, he had been the last one to touch her mouth. The thought sent a surge of heat through his body, making his heart rate increase and his hands tremble.
He halted, waited with bated breath, trying to regain control of his emotions. She waited then, as her sisters also drank from the golden cup, the line slowly diminishing. Finally, the girls finished their duty, as if content by drinking, they all stepped away from the altar to make their way out of the church.
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Outside, by the faucet that run with holy water, you went to wash your hands, also taking a small box out of your skirt's inner pocket to uncover a tiny bar soap. "I don't think you're supposed to do that." Aisha went by your side, she didn't really care about the side glances, none of them did. But it was a matter of fact that she stated.
"It's alright, perhaps the holiness will help burn more germs."
There was your carriage, already waiting outside, with the coachman sitting patiently with the horse whip in hand, ready to use at any time you and your sisters decided to make your way back.
The brothers' carriage had not shown up yet and Nemo had tripped over a small cursed rock as he paced back and forth out of habit. His face flushed with embarrassment as he stumbled over, losing his balance and almost falling face-first onto the cobblestone path. He could hear the laughter of Aida and you behind him, your giggles tauntingly ringing in his ears.
He tried to compose himself, straightening his jacket and adjusting his hat. He could also feel Aisha's disapproving gaze on him, but couldn't bring himself to look at her, too ashamed of himself.
The girls merely passed him and got to their carriage, Aisha helping her sisters get in, upholding their hands with her own gloved one. As the girls climbed into the carriage, each one of them send a little sidelong glance his way, a few giggles slipping out of the two. He felt his cheeks burning with shame, knowing that you were laughing at his expense. He could almost hear the whispers and giggles in his ears as the carriage rode away, not sure whether it was his imagination this time or if you did in fact found it this amusing. He clenched his hands into fists, anger and humiliation building up inside him.
Aida's hand reached over you to close the curtain.
"Wait. We can get a little sun first." You halted her by enclosing your hand on her wrist. Aida retreated, sitting prudently back to her seat next of you, yet she didn't hold back her lips from pouting. It didn't matter; you got to hold Nemo's pitiful gaze for a while longer.
Across of you, as if mockingly Aisha's own curtain was already closed, making a blue shadow play on her gentle features.
As the three of you rode into the carriage, you had an unreadable expression, over the opened window, your manicured slender finger brushed over your lower lip, caressing it where it had previously touched the Holy Grail.
Once you got out of his view, the sun became quite unbearable, blinding your eyes and so you closed the curtain with a final swish of your hand.
"Here. Enough sun for today."
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