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bunji-enthusiast · 3 months

Note

Hello! Glad you took some days to rest its always good to take a well deserved break!

This occur after reader saved dog day from those mini critters or in that area near the cell dog day was, you're free to chose!

Dog day reacting to waking up and seeing reader is no longer resting beside/near him like they were dpig a few hours ago and strts to think the worst things had happened, only to then find reader just sat down outside looking at a picture of the smilling critters

Take as much time you need to make this no need to rush!

Nostalgia.

Note || RAAAHH. Humans are cute, you are too you know?

WC || 940

Sypnosis || He thought the worst, yet it seemed to be disproved at the sight of you holding memories.

Nightmarish, garish and all around very bloody. He didn’t want to slow down, yet his body was screaming at him to slow down, but he couldn’t afford to stop. DogDay would die if he did, something was coming straight for him and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick around and find that out.

“Oh gods, you have to be kiddin’ me.” DogDay gasped, hands resting upon his knees as his breath felt strained and strangled all at the same time. He wasn’t prepared, less then ready to be dealing with this. DogDay’s body was on edge, whatever – whoever – was chasing him, getting closer with every second possible on the clock.

The clock ticked, ringing in his ears.

He was running out of time, he needed to jump and hide somewhere sufficient.

DogDay sighed once more, taking a deep breath and jumping into the masses of desecration and biting down on the iron metallic scent of blood and wafting metal of every vein and vent. He was overwhelmed with adrenaline and dizziness.

A roar resounded throughout the hallway, of which it had startled DogDay. He flinched, then began to run.

Running far and fast, as fast as he can. DogDay felt tormented, why was that? Why was he running? So much had happened, too many things he cannot remember. Suddenly he felt a shadowed claw wrap around his waist.

Was this it? He really was gonna die after he had succeeded in surviving so long, maybe this was his punishment for surviving, for everything.

No. No. No. NO!

DogDay jolted from where he laid, eyes adjusting to the location. He looked around to remember where he was, seeing the familiar desolate hallways and the small building he was in. An internal sigh escaped his method of silence, DogDay was okay, he was fine.

Save for the fact he had completely new legs now after such a long time, that was luckily all thanks to you of course.

Wait, where are you?

“Angel?” He spoke out, hoping to get a response. DogDay’s chest tightened, recurring memories that he had lamented coming back to torment him. What happened to you? Did you get hurt? Did CatNap take you?

Oh he sincerely needed to find out, DogDay would be damned if he lost someone again. Especially after the fact that you saved him, he hasn’t done enough in return for that action of genuine kindness and generosity. DogDay hurried around, looking around in every inch and every nook and cranny that he could find, “Sweetheart?” He coughed, wincing as he clutched his side as he still felt the aftereffects of all those wounds he sustained over a long period of time.

Finally he didn’t have to search anymore, seeing as how you were only outside, sitting against the wall as you clutched a strange picture that he couldn’t make out at his distance.

You turned, feeling his presence. Almost slightly, you flinched, seeing as how DogDay was clutching onto the doorway for support in standing. “DogDay, you're awake! Nice nap I assume?” To that, he shrugged, answering with an ambiguous tune, “Nice.. to put it simply I suppose.”

Then a strange and sudden awkwardness took over the atmosphere for a few pressing moments, deciding to break it he had spoken up again as he sat down beside you, “What’s that your holding Angel?” You held up the picture in a questioning manner, to which he had motioned yes, he was talking about that picture in particular.

“Dunno if you wanna go down memory lane for this.” You smile, half-heartedly transformed into a smirk. DogDay had groaned audibly, patting your head within a playful gesture. You bit the inside of your cheek, chewing on it for a minute before you finally decided to show him.

“These guys, I missed ‘em..” You recounted with a mournful tune. DogDay’s white pupils slid down, widening as if he was expressing emotion. You held no reaction whatsoever as you handed him the picture.

“Smiling Critters…”

He scoffed lightheartedly, not demeaning in any which way. DogDay was glad in a sense that you found a picture of them, their faces were something he had started to forget. You laid your head on his side, feeling the tiredness weigh down your bones.

“Apparently there is a saying that naps don’t help cause the soul is tired.” He perked up at this, interested at the sudden subject of the quote you brought up. DogDay felt inebriated, spiteful at the harsh memories, but in a sense of rejuvenation he had felt hopeful. “I guess, that puts an explanation to what I feel.” Deliberated senses of gas, metal and blood may be what remain, but there can be hope to search for.

“What makes you say this?” DogDay wondered, very interested in your inquisitive mind. You shrugged a little, very noticeable but amicable at best. “You ain’t at peace DogDay..”

His white pupils slid over to you, suddenly feeling exposed by this newfound sentiment. “Earlier I thought a noise I heard was a random one, but now I know that it was you. Having a nightmare.” You sighed, eyes closing as you felt guilt for not checking before.

DogDay felt himself smiling a little, a special recognition. “Nightmares are nightmares… I am just glad you aren’t hurt anyway.” You scoffed at him, elbowing into his side. To which he rubbed his side with an audible hey!

You giggle at him, letting your arms lay to rest, to which his own arms did too. For a moment, reflecting on the past doesn’t hurt too badly.

So as long you two aren’t lost anymore.

[Taglist: @everythingnicen0nnie ] {want to join the Taglist next time I post a writing piece? Let me know!}

#dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #dogday x reader #poppy playtime dogday

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ozzgin · 3 months

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Hai, beloved....❤️✨

I've liked your blog for a long time and I came here to make a request With the six Handsome Yokai, muehehe ~

With fem reader who is the wife of the Yokai (separately) and is a woman who turns out to be a beautiful and elegant Oni please...❤️💋

Of course! My apologies for the delay, it always takes some time to get back into the mood for a certain story. This will be a yokai harem week hopefully. :D I'm very glad you're still around, Strawberry. 💕

Yandere! Yokai Harem AU: Oni! Reader

Featuring the six demon boyfriends - now husbands! - and a female oni reader.

Content: female reader, monster romance

[Main Story] [Character Guide] [Boyfriend Headcanons]

Murasaki

Murasaki needs time to accustom himself to any change in the relationship. You've gotten so close that you now wear his wedding ring, but strangely enough, he will be somewhat distant and shy in the first month after marriage. Mind you, he married you specifically because he cannot envision his life without your presence in it. Yet every time he glances at you, his cheeks burn in embarrassment, and he quickly looks away with a huff. It feels different. You're as beautiful as always, except now you bear the title of his wife. It's an intimacy he's never experienced before, making him nervous. Murasaki does not like uncertainty. How do people get used to it? Additionally, he will be extra protective and particularly caustic towards potential threats. You've had to hold him back from slashing a mere passerby once. "What're you looking at a married woman for? The road is straight ahead, asshole!"

Kiritsubo

Kiritsubo has always been a clingy and affectionate partner and you didn't think it could get any worse. Then you got married. On one hand, it has certainly helped his struggle of feeling insecure and inadequate. Can you blame him? You're stunning, often catching the eye of demons and humans alike. It was difficult to imagine someone like you would be pleased to have him as a partner. Yet here you are by his side, wearing the ring he's given you to tie the knot. He couldn't be any happier. A newfound sense of pride has flooded his entire being. Perhaps he is meant to be yours, after all. On the other hand, he's glued to your side even more so than before. You're married, which means you're basically one, right? It means you can be even more intimate. "Oh, you're preparing a bath for us? I can't wait!"

Suma

"Beauty and the Beast" is a fitting comparison for your relationship with Suma, and not just appearance-wise. You're elegant and well-mannered, while the yokai man is, well...nonchalant is one way to describe it. He is loud, carefree, and unapologetically violent. He loves fighting almost as much as he loves you. In the eyes of most people, you're an unusual pair. Despite everything, Suma can be very gentle, especially when it comes to you. And if he does get too enthusiastic, you're thankfully not as frail as one would believe. You are a powerful oni, after all. He's the kind of guy that will shout "This is my wife" so the whole perimeter knows not to mess with you.

Yuugiri

Yuugiri might just be the perfect match for someone of your status. He is equally good-looking, with androgynous features and distinguished manners. A perfect, charming husband according to many. He knows exactly how to sweep you off your feet and loves to spoil you with compliments. The snake yokai is very proud to have you as his wife. The downside to this is that he can be extremely jealous. If he suspects someone is trying to flirt with you, know that he is already planning their demise. He'll flash you a confident smile while pondering ways to torment the bastard. Don't worry, he will be equally ruthless if someone tries to get close to him instead.

Sakaki

Ah, Sakaki. Your very own gloomy husband, plagued by doubt and fear. Once again, an intriguing pair to outsiders. The depressed, melancholic yokai and his gorgeous, bright oni wife. Yet this is the very reason the demon has fallen in love with you: you're the light in his darkness, the hope in his despair. He proposed to you in the way most expected of him: a ring in one hand, and a noose in the other. "It's you for eternity, or death. You may seal my fate." Life with him won't change much after tying the knot. Although he might get a little more confident now that you have made things official. "Excuse me, you're flirting with my tomb partner. We'll be sharing a coffin one day; you don't stand a chance."

Sekiya

Sekiya will take forever to propose to you, mostly out of fear. Despite your best attempts to reassure him of your love, he is still very much crippled by the fear of rejection. What if you say no? What if you change your mind at the very last moment? You're an alluring, charismatic oni that could easily find someone better than him. His chances are slim. Thankfully it will tone down once you're officially married. He might even come out of his shell and dare to be a little more assertive. "That's MY ring on her finger, j-just so you know", he'll warn, proudly. (It was a jewelry maker asking you what style you prefer)

#yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #oni reader #yokai x reader #monster romance #monster husband

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miserycanary · 10 days

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MISSION: LOVE KILL ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU.

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it.

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs.

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that.

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that!

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.”

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it.

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems.

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway.

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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yanxidarlings · 10 months

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YANDERE HP GOLDEN ERA: SLYTHERIN BOYS X DORMMATE READER

continuation of my previous post (i got caught up in getting out my anthony goldstein headcanons was it obvious). okay so full disclosure, i haven't read the fanfictions lorenzo and mattheo are from (i only read yandere is it obvious) (i see their faceclaims and cannot. exclude), so if i'm not portraying them correctly shout at me. but just for a moment, imagine having the 79-80 liner slytherin boys yandere for their dormmate? (okay there is a loophole i'll write for male readers/darlings if asked).

maybe they've known the reader/darling since childhood, and the sudden close proximity magnifies the possessive and obsessive tendencies they were developing towards the darling. or, the darling could suddenly get sorted into slytherin and now they have a roommate they did not expect to have. for the second scenario i don't think the darlings personality would matter much - either way, they're all apprehensive about this really cute kid they suddenly are dorming with.

maybe they give the reader a hard time at first (although this is only really likely to happen for a darling in a different house, or a muggleborn darling) but whoo boy if anyone else thinks of teasing the reader, they'll get hell from our dear slytherins here. actually, anyone who the reader pays mind to becomes a target of torment and bullying by draco and his gang. especially potter. please, reader, for potters own sanity and the good of the wizarding world, do not approach, think about or even look in the direction of harry. it ends in an ugly tantrum from draco, prolonged sarcasm from theodore, silence from blaise, aggression from mattheo and teasing from lorenzo. crabbe and goyle won't be carrying your books for you for the next week either.

when they get like this, it'll be the darling that'll have to make it up to them, or risk having it all drag out until one of them gets over it naturally.

GREGORY GOYLE & VINCENT CRABBE (cast josh herdman, jamie waylett):

they're all horribly possessive and jealous by default, but generally, crabbe and goyle are the easiest to deal with, they both have a soft spot for their darling, and are pretty used to being bossed around, the second choice and having to share. they're also the easiest to appease, putting food on crabbe's plate is enough to make him happy, and paying goyle any mind will go a long way.

they don't need constant attention (draco), validation (draco), and affection (draco), from their darling, and are content just being in their life.

BLAISE ZABINI (cast louis cordice):

after them, i honestly don't know who's worse. going in alphabetical order, blaise appears to be calm and uncaring when it comes to his darling, but do not be fooled, he's not going to sit back and let his darling get whisked away by the likes of a half blood (sorry mattheo), spolit daddy's boy (apologies draco), spolit mommy's boy (soz enzo) or someone who's one lab accident away from becoming a supervillain (blaise's words not mine theo).

blaise tolerates the rest of the slytherins for now, but if any of them think he'd ever fully agree to sharing with the likes of them, they are wrong. he fantasises about taking his darling away from the world after graduating, and probably has his mother trying to arrange a marriage the moment he decides they're his.

DRACO MALFOY (cast tom felton):

unlike blaise, draco is not even a little bit subtle about his possesiveness over his darling, he only see's the other slytherins as tools to ensure his darlings safety and happiness at hogwarts, and does not bother to pretend like he isn't planning to kidnap move the reader into malfoy manor the minute they graduate. actually, he couldn't wait that long.

he'll look for any opportunity to have the malfoy family gain custody of his darling. all the more better if his darling comes from a dysfunctional household. but either way, he'll make sure his family is all they have to turn to.

all i know about lorenzo is that he has mommy and daddy issues so i'll have to piggybank off that. he'll present himself as the 'sane' one, if his darling is complaining about the behaviour of the other slytherins, enzo wholeheartedly agree's with them "i don't know what's wrong with all of them - you sure you didn't slip any amortentia into their drinks?" he becomes a safe haven from the possessive obsession his dormmates seem to share for their darling.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE (fancast louis patridge):

lorenzo acts the most normal, but don't be fooled, he's just as obsessed as the rest of them. enzo is just better at hiding it. he too, frequently thinks about whisking them away, but is much less finite about it; holing his darling up in his house isn't the end goal. he could honestly live with sharing them with his fellow slytherins, but this is all assuming that the reader takes well to his attempts at becoming the 'sane one'.

if enzo isn't able to successfully befriend them, he'll have to settle for being the 'mean one'. teasing and humiliation follows his darling, as does he. it's not severe, but it's probably the push the reader needs to fall into deep depression and anxiety. so please, take the sane bait.

MATTHEO RIDDLE (fancast benjamin wadsworth):

mattheo doesn't exactly have a family reputation to uphold, blaise, draco, enzo and theo would want to keep up a respectable reputation, whatever that is in pureblood society, but mattheo? the dark lords son? he's entirely unhinged.

if lorenzo is the 'sane one', mattheo is the 'crazy one'.

he doesn't really care what his darling, or others, think of his behaviour. if he wants to spend time with them, he's going to. he'll pull them out of class, drag them away from the other slytherins, just to skip rocks in the black lake with them, or raid the kitchens. he doesn't really bother hiding his yandere tendencies, he'll actively tell his darling not to talk to certain people "because i said so" "stop asking questions", and will refuse to elaborate further. sometimes, there will be disturbing moments of honesty between him and his darling; he'll admit that he's obsessed with them, and threaten to attack people they pay attention to. and he'll tell them that they belong to him.

sometimes it's frightening and sometimes he'll come across as sweet. he is both predictable and unpredictable, which puts his darling at unease around him.

THEODORE NOTT (fancast lorenzo zurzolo):

theodore uses guilt to garner his darlings sympathy, all the more easier if they are childhood friends. he'll make sure they know about his harsh childhood, and make them feel responsible for his wellbeing. he's the only one to create a sense of dependency not built upon threats. out of all the slytherins, he gets to know his darling the best, he'll use guilt, emotional breakdowns and dark secrets to create a sense of obligation towards him.

theo is the most comforting of the slytherins to be around, he's quiet and the only one who they can spend time with without feeling much pressure. he demands the most of their attention, and is by far the most possessive. whilst i can see the other slytherins finding a way to deal with sharing their darling amonst themselves, if the rest don't back off eventually (stop dreaming theo) (they won't), he's the most inclined to just get rid of them - he can't stand it when his darling is around anyone but him, he wakes early to walk his darling to class just so they won't get caught up in the busy halls, where eyes can wonder and other people can have a chance to interact with his darling.

theodore pairs with them for every project, which leads to some ugly arguments between him and blaise, who only really get's his fill of his darling by sitting next to them in class. and draco, and mattheo and enzo and even goyle who was hoping the reader would help get him a good grade for once.

out of all of them, draco, goyle and blaise are the most patient. they want their darling to love them, not see them as monsters to flinch away from.

theodore, lorenzo and mattheo will take whatever they can get. lorenzo in particular doesn't want his darling to fear him but won't let them get away with trying to escape or disobedience. mattheo doesn't mind being the villain if he must be, but his heart clenches when his darling acts so obviously distrustful of him. theodore is the least patient, and if his darling starts to shy away from him, he snaps. at them, at the rest of the slytherin boys. but he's also easy to keep content, so long as his darling is always by his side.

similarly, blaise just enjoys being in the presence of his darling, and doesn't feel the need to cuddle up to them constantly like draco and enzo do. mattheo is a loose canon, and sometimes is fine being near them, other times he wants skin to skin contact 25/8.

they're hopeless at sharing, and only really get along for the sake of their darling. there are only really two ways this can end; theodore finally snaps and tries to off the rest of them after graduation, or they somehow come to an agreement on sharing, maybe they each get their own day a week

monday for draco, tuesday for blaise, wednesday for theo, thursday for enzo, and friday for mattheo. goyle and crabbe probably aren't taken seriously enough to get given their own day, so then the weekends are spent sharing (fighting).

the only time the boys will work in tandem is when someone attempts to take their darling and their attention, away. best example, darling starts dating someone. which is already pretty improbable, considering they give the reader no alone time whatsoever. but let's just say the darling here is going on a date with cormac mclaggen (get a grip, darling), any grudges they've been holding against each other are off, mclaggen has just signed his death warrant.

mattheo and theodore do most of the dirty work, whilst lorenzo distracts the reader. draco and blaise cover up their tracks, so it seems like whatever they did to mclaggen was an untimely accident. or have it blamed on someone else. goyle and crabbe intimidate anyone who tries to get close to the darling from then on.

they might hate sharing with each other, but they truly despise sharing with an 'outsider'.

#yandere harry potter #yandere draco malfoy #yandere blaise zabini #yandere theodore nott #yandere mattheo riddle #yandere lorenzo berkshire #yandere goyle #yandere crabbe #yandere slytherin #hp #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #gregory goyle #slytherin boys #golden era #hp writings

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anantaru · 1 year

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okay but. making out with alhaitham in the car.

cw. riding, sloppy make out session, semi public (you’re in a car obviously), modern au, fem! reader

alhaitham downright detests how long it takes for you to drive home.

and the rippling lust for your beauty was settling into his mind and body excessively— specifically his groin that was dwelling with miniature tingles and stings that he knew would slowly but surely turn into something uncontrollable, something— disruptive, if not taken care of.

whatever it may be, it‘s not like alhaitham cannot wait, but this smoldering setting was poles apart from average days where his prickling lust and desires would gravitate in his bones and spread around his entire body and mind.

but he notes that tonight was— outlandishly different.

for some reason simply swallowing down his desires and needs as per usual just wouldn't do it for him.

"you‘re so sweet when you‘re turned on." you pause, alluring a deep gulp of air through your embellished lips, corners plucked in a cheeky grin while he was still in fact, yes, driving.

but alhaitham wondered if he‘d be able to actually find an immediate parking spot where he could park this damn car before something was to happen between you.

"—oh?" he cocks a brow, a drawn out grunt exits his stiffened chest when you idly place your hand on top of his clothed thigh, it makes him relax for the first time during this ride because before that all he could imagine was splitting you in half while pistoling his cock into you in the back seat, more times— yet now, oh now everything was beginning to be set in the right place.

"seems like you have me figured out— for once." and you squeeze his thigh, carefreely blowing down a breathless laugh, polishing your tempting play with a simple kiss on his cheek— this sweet action had him dizzy, out of his mind with his pupils blown out entirely now, but before he can even catch his own breath, you‘re back to making it as difficult as possible.

you grin pettish, finally seeing what your eyes had wanted; because the second your lips touched alhaitham it shook him through his very core and returned to him in a juddering convulsion, holding on his thoughts through a vice like grip, not only that but the buzz got sent straight down to his groin, so much that he caught himself pitch his hips up at nothing but the air.

the following blurred out scenes complete themselves like difficult puzzles finally drawing the true picture— in an uncontrollable phantasm of unlatching the irksome car belt, listlessly sliding to the back seat so you could easily hover over your boyfriends erection.

he‘s huge— itching so badly that alhaitham cannot think straight, and oh well, it wasn‘t possible for you to get or move into another position aside from this particular one— not that you were complaining, that is, something about having your boyfriend at your sight while he chants uncontrollable sobs into your mouth blurred your vision white— because in this squished together setting you were able to observe how his plump lips would silently form into an 'o' like shape while he deliriously groans at each new drag of his cock into your prettiest, softest cunt.

your hands interlock into his lustrous hair to yank him against your lips— you cannot not kiss him, quite frankly, you were starving to have him on your lips and suckle on his tongue while concurrently clashing yourself on him. "how, fuck— fucking much i wanted this." alhaitham circles his fingers around the wet skin on your hips, his tone taunting and seemingly hidden by a deluge of labored breathing.

you adjust and torment yourself on his hips with lowered twitches downward, shamelessly smearing your wetness on his naked lower region. "p.. please—" you wail, then beg.

you're so full but longed for more and it's almost as if you were tortured by how you had already lost your mind from being impaled by his cock, your toes twisting at the bucking warps inside you, "please more!" and again, mimicking a broken record.

your tongue sloppily dances around his own, coursing through the penetrative scent of mint on his lips. you wanted him so bad, though, you had him but you needed more, if he so desired it alhaitham could honestly destroy your insides for all you care.

you knew alhaitham would leave bruises by how alarmingly coated your hips were by his large hands and their stern grip, that you‘d be able to distinguish each creek and curve of his large cock in your rammed pussy, even after he had finished and filled you up, sending your breath into another obscene ensemble of loud hitches.

"aah— curses!" alhaitham squeezes his eyes shut and begins to move you back and forth his cock, desperate and so fervently in tune with you, chasing more biting relief on his swelling erecting while bottoming into you from below, pressing down and down, so your walls were sticking and suckling on his girth, working in tandem with his own strength drifting through you.

"fuck baby!" you had never done this before, fucking in a car out on a random parking lot, and felt a bit dirty.

again— all shamelessly and hot fucking into a closed off parking alley while being too loud for your own good wasn‘t exactly a daily occurance— but you hoped it would become one after this.

"love love you so much!" you kiss alhaitham— strongly and all over his face, plant pecks on his pretty worn out expression and arch your back into his chest.

he likes the view too, but loves you more, the repeated squish of your breasts into him, nosing over his jawline before hiding in his damp neck— leaving it to your sweet and pretty boyfriend alhaitham to bring you towards the edge, urging him to make you feel this sweet sugary pleasure, only he was able to achieve.

#alhaitham smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham x reader #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact alhaitham x reader #genshin impact alhaitham smut #𖤣𖤥𖠿𖤣𖤥 thirsts'#fem! reader #alhaitham x reader smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #alhaitham x you

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mysicklove · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒

Paring: Sub! Akaza X Dom! Gn! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Threatening, heavy power dynamics, edging, pillow throwing lol, growling, teeth baring, heavy praise and petting, soft dom reader and confused akaza

A/N: This was a blurb, and then a drabble, and then it hit 1k words and I turned it into a fic. Honestly, mostly akaza trying to manage power dynamics, not alot of smut.

He can’t do it anymore. He physically can’t. It’s even taking a mental toll on him.

How has he let a mere human like you take control over his body?

He has been edged for thirty minutes now. It was a long time for most people, but to him it felt like hours. He has been biting his tongue to hold back threats.

Akaza knows he likes being submissive to you, he knows for complete sure he does. He was the one to ask you to take the lead. Sure it came off as a complaint of a demon commanding a human, but you knew what he meant. He hated that you knew. It made him feel weak.

But in these moments where you deny him pleasure, he hates being submissive. He wants it all, every touch, graze, or caress. How could you deny it to him when he was the one who originally commanded you?

But you don't seem to care. You leave him hanging dry, with no fear of consequences. He could kill you in a heartbeat, but still, you torment him.

Akaza lunges for your hand when you begin to pull away from his leaking cock. Second time this has happened and he cannot be denied an orgasm any longer. He has played your good pet for too long.

He bares his teeth at you, the needle-sharp canines exposed in all their might. His face scrunches up in a glare and he can feel the rumbling of a growl in the back of his throat.

You watch as he squeezes your wrist and begins to pull it back to his now leaking dick. “Touch me.” He hisses and you raise your eyebrows at the tone.

Your hand goes limp in his hold and he tries to rub himself on it, the growls keep picking up in volume at your defiance.

He meets your stare, ready to threaten you some more, but when he sees you innocently blinking up at him, he knows how he is doing this is wrong. He knows that having a tantrum will not get him anywhere.

You always have those eyes when he acts out. When he doesn't get his way. You stare at him like you looking at a small child. It was humiliating.

You only did it when he plays the demon card on you. When he uses the strength of his body to overpower you. When he threatens to kill you.

It’s like you know he would never hurt you, you know that after all of this, he is still sits in the palm of your hand ready to be manipulated for your every need.

In the beginning it made him even more angry. He would yell and scream all the while you would sit there and take it, petting his hair and rubbing his body like you were coaxing a child to calm down. It would take him hours to let down his walls. He was afraid to be seen as weak to a human.

But now almost instantly he seems to relax. Sees those eyes and knows that no matter what he says or does you’ll always be there to bring him down. He enjoys that you make him feel small. It was sickening.

So, he drops your hand with much hesitance. You sit and wait patiently through it all, blinking up at him with such innocence eyes when he knows that you know how much power he has over him.

Just for one last release he grabs the pillow next to him and chucks it at the door. It lands with a small thud and he heaves, baring his teeth at the door while you follow the pillow with a small hum.

You bring your hand up to the top of his head and his eyes snap to you, his canines still exposed. “That’s it, let it all out.” You coo, petting his hair, and he stares in silence. His chest rises and falls in deep breathes, and his cock still pulsates against his stomach.

“Are you with me?” You whisper, tracing the lines on his face.

He begins to relax his face, his breathing goes back to normal and he gulps at you, looking away from those eyes. “Sorry.” He mumbles, clenching his fists in embarrassment. He knows you are kinder when he is polite, he has to suck up his pride.

The cooing picks up again and he feels his face burn. “That’s alright. Look how much better you are doing. Aren’t you being such a good boy, Akaza?” Your hand comes back to his cock and he jumps. You rub the tip and he has to grit his teeth to hold back a moan. “Say it, Akaza.”

Will you let him cum now? He didn’t freak out this time and he apologized. If he says what you want him to say will you finally touch him?

He can’t even look at you in these moments. “I’m a good boy…I want—Will you let me cum? Please.” He whispers so silently that you almost missed it. His face flushes under the marks and he grabs at the sheets beneath him. He listens to the satisfying tear of the fabric.

You smile ecstatically and he flinches, still getting used to the praise. “Just three more. Can you withstand it three more times? For me, baby?”

Another humiliating nickname. If anyone knew that he let you call him this he would have to kill them.

But he wasn’t focused on the nickname. He feels your hand drawing back. He can’t do it three more times. He is bound to get frustrated and yell or break something, accidentally break you. He can't help it. It hurts.

But he can’t seem to find the words for his complains, so he does something for the first time since he met you. He whimpers.

The sound makes his widen eyes snap back to you, hoping you didn’t catch it, but with that grin on your face he knows you did. He tries to pretend it didn't happen for the sake of his pride.

Your hand is back on his cock in an instant.

After the first two denials he begins to sweat, his heart hammers in his chest and he is clenching the sheets with eyes screwed shut. He feels the urge to yell, to command you to touch him, but he holds back. For both your sake and his own. His tongue is covered in bite marks from his very own teeth.

The third denial was the roughest by far. You tricked him, saying stuff like, "Now I'll let you cum." and "It's going to feel so good, right love?" Which made him believe that you missed counted. He didn't say anything, he wanted to let you think this was the third one. He wanted his high desperately.

You pull away at the last second and he wants to yell, scream, do something, but instead he cries in pure frustration. Globs of tears drip down his face and he continues to tear through the sheets as if they were nothing but paper.

"Please!" He begs for the first time tonight. His body racks with the sobs and he leans forward to lean onto your chest as if he really was a small child. His whole cock is covered in his pre cum. It makes him feel sticky and gross. He wants you to make it stop.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair and murmur sweet nothings into his ear. Finally, you give in, bringing your hand down and begin to set the pace once again. He lets out his moans and whines now, too sensitive and overstimulated not to. His mind is disoriented from the praise dripping out of your mouth like honey.

It only takes him five pumps for him to cum. His back arches and he has to quickly remove his hands from your body so he doesn't accidentally dig them into your skin. He doesn't moan, instead, it comes out as long shaky gasps and rapid muscle contractions. White liquid lands on his chest and your leg.

When he comes down from his high, he doesn't speak. He sits and listens to your praise, no longer feeling embarrassed about it. Instead, basking in the warmth of your words that makes him feel lightheaded.

#dom! reader #smut #kny smut #akaza x reader #x reader #reader insert #sub kny #sub! kny #sub akaza #sub! akaza #akaza smut #demon slayer akaza #akaza x you #Akaza x reader smut #demon slayer smut #kny akaza #akaza demon slayer #dom reader #dom reader kny

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thevilqueen · 16 days

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Potion Mishap ~ Vil Schoenheit

Word Count: 1 625

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Summary: Vil realizes he made a terrible mistake when the hate potion he was crafting for his potion assignment meant to get his mind off you turned into a lust potion.

A/N: This is a continuation of Mimi’s fic right here. It’s smut with plot. There is slight dubcon and reader is afab. Let me know what you think!

Loud knocks on your door startled you as you put your pen down on your desk, standing up from your chair. You walked up to the entrance of your bedroom and watched through the peephole only to see Vil. You frowned. It wasn’t unusual for him to seek you out without notice but the way he was so impatiently knocking on the wooden door had you wondering about what could be so urgent.

“Yes, Vil?” you said, opening the door, your eyes meeting his violet ones.

Vil’s pupils were strangely dilated, you noticed. He was also breathing unevenly, and the red dusting his cheeks didn’t seem to be a make-up choice. He pushed past you, not waiting to be invited and you let him in, closing the door behind the two of you.

“Vil, are you alright?” you asked, a little concerned.

Vil didn’t say anything, but his expression betrayed him. He looked like whatever was tormenting him was about to burst out of him and he had trouble containing it. Before you could question him any further, however, he pushed you against your door. Your eyes widened at the sudden action and you gasped.

“[Name],” he moaned, pressing his body against yours, his hands on either side of you. “I am so sorry.”

“Vil? What’s wrong?”

Your concern only grew with the way he was behaving. Vil breathed heavily before walking backwards, his legs trembling as he made his way to your bed. You immediately followed, worried for your friend. He cried out as he fell onto your mattress and you rushed to him, sitting right beside him on the bed.

“This potion… We made a mistake… [Name]… I cannot take it any more…” Vil said incoherently.

“Vil, what potion?” you replied, panicked and even more confused. “Should I get help? You’re scaring me.”

“No, [Name],” he moaned again, reaching for your hands. “I need you.”

This was when you noticed the tent forming in Vil’s pants and you finally understood.

He sat up on your bed almost immediately and wrapped an arm around your waist. Then he pushed you onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. You didn’t question him as he kissed you. You were frozen in place, having trouble processing what was happening. Vil’s tongue slid inside your mouth and it was aggressively that he undressed you. He pulled down your skirt and you were pretty sure your fishnets were torn with how quickly he took them off.

All of this was unexpected, to say the least, and it was only when he unbuttoned your shirt and pulled down your bra to suck on your exposed breast that you realized none of this should be happening with your closest friend even though you wanted it nearly as much as Vil did.

“Vil?” you breathed, as his tongue teased your nipples. “I don’t think we should be doing this.”

He ignored you, pulling on his tie instead and unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re not being yourself,” you reminded him in between kisses.

“I think I am,” he whispered in your ear before kissing your neck.

Soon you were moaning Vil’s name too as he showed no signs of stopping anytime. Your legs tightened around him, feeling him bury himself inside you. He was absolutely heavenly, you couldn’t help thinking as he repeatedly bruised your lips with his. You lost count of the orgasms he stole from you and as you switched positions and he trapped you under his body once again, you started to lose track of time and your surroundings.

By the time he reached his release, you were out of breath and a sticky mess of limbs and sweat. Your hands were intertwined when he slowly pulled out from you and lay on your back as your core was still pulsating. You didn’t say anything and let him hold you an arm over your waist as he slid to your side. To be completely honest you didn’t know where to start if you were to speak so you kept quiet for a while enjoying his warmth. Once you finally broke the silence, however, it appeared that Vil had fallen asleep and you couldn’t help chuckling.

It was certainly an endearing sight, you thought as you turned around, facing him. You reached for your blanket, covering him up, a smile on your face as you lay with him. By the time he woke up, you had dressed up and folded his clothes neatly on your desk. You had wondered if you should have woke him up but you figured he was tired, the potion he had ingested was visibly potent after all. You also brought him a light snack and a cup of tea and as he started moving, you hoped he was feeling rested at the very least.

He rubbed his eyes as he awakened, proof that he was likely confused as the action smudged his make-up all over his eyes. He frowned at the sight of the mascara and brown eyeshadow on his fingertips then he looked around the room, realizing he was on your bed. You stood up from your chair by your desk and moved to sit next to him.

“Are you okay, Vil?” you asked, softly.

He took a moment before answering as if the memories of the past events were still foggy. Then his eyes widened as he remembered everything and jolted awake.

“Oh Sevens,” he muttered to himself, in shock, before finally making eye contact with you. “What have I done?”

“Well, a lot of things,” you replied, unsure about how he was taking what had just happened.

“I don’t know what to say. I have no words. What I did is terrible and I have no excuse. I take full accountability for sexually assaulting you and I will fix it in any way you see fit.”

The guilt on Vil’s face was apparent and the way with which he spoke these words immediately made you feel bad for him. He was mistaken, though. While it was true that you hadn’t given your consent for what had unfolded at first there was no point where you wanted him to stop and he didn’t. In fact, it was probably the most enjoyable sex you had ever had even if he had been very visibly consumed by his lust.

“Vil, please, you didn’t sexually assault me,” you reassured him. “Sure, I was a bit confused at first but I didn’t stop you because I was enjoying it. To be quite honest, I should have stopped you, you were clearly not being yourself. So, I am also at fault.”

“No. Don’t even try blaming yourself. I barged into your room and forcefully had sex with you,” he argued.

You couldn’t help chuckling at the absurdity of the situation even though Vil was everything except amused.

“We just had rough sex. I liked it. I liked it a lot even. Besides, I could have very easily neutralized you with my signature spell. I didn’t because I thought we were having a good time. I do feel bad though because if your actions were only motivated by the potion then it means I took advantage of you.”

“It wasn’t just the potion. While I didn’t intend it to turn out that way, I did want to have sex with you… Just not like that. I apologize again,” he explained, with a look of sadness on his face.

“Why the long face? If we both wanted to have sex then it’s alright. Sure it was unexpected but we can always try again with explicit consent this time.”

You chuckled and Vil shook his head.

“Are you sure you are alright?” he insisted. “I do really feel bad.”

“Don’t,” you said with a smile, moving closer to him. “Can I have the story behind this potion, though?”

Vil remained quiet for a moment. He was embarrassed.

“We were crafting a hate potion with Mai-Siri for our potionology class and it was supposed to neutralize my feelings for you for a short time but it backfired,” he confessed.

“A hate potion? Why were you trying to neutralize your feelings for me?”

“Well,” Vil hesitated. “It was only going to be temporary and I just wanted to get my mind off you… It was stupid, I know.”

“Hate potions react to the person ingesting the potion’s feelings for the target. Which means that if you had picked a random person to target, you would have developed hatred for them shortly. It works differently if you care for the person you are targeting, though.”

Vil nodded.

“Depending on how much and how you love your target, the effects of the potion differ. One of the side effects is lust. That said, this is only possible if the romantic love you feel for that person is overwhelmingly strong…” he continued.

You chuckled.

“So, in other words, you are so down bad for me that your hatred turned into lust. How embarrassing.”

Vil rolled his eyes.

“Would you please stop rubbing salt in the wounds? I am already ashamed for making such a stupid mistake.”

You laughed.

“Looks like you underestimated how much you love me.”

“I guess I did. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute,” you reassured him, kissing his lips softly.

Vil smiled at the action. This was certainly not how he had planned to confess his feelings for you but at least you seemed to be happy with how it turned out regardless.

“So are we practising explicit consent yet or?”

“You are unbearable,” Vil replied before closing the distance between you two, kissing you as you wrapped your arms around him and you both fell onto the mattress again.

#twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x you #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit smut #👑.the evil queen writes

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vtoriacore · 1 year

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✧ the flirtiest one of all! [2]

note: part two of this, fun fact it was actually 6.9k words on the original doc and i’m not telling you this for any particular reason haha i am the epitome of maturity i promise <3 (lying)

characters: azul, jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, vil, rook, epel

synopsis: pretty simple, you confess by out-flirting just about every human being, merman, beastman and fae on planet earth. because you’re suave babe, go for it!

heartslabyul & savanaclaw | ignihyde & diasomnia

♡ OCTAVINELLE

✯; azul ashengrotto

azul quirked an eyebrow when you entered mostro longue with that mischievous smile of yours but what caught his attention next is the purple rectangular box you were carrying, addressed as 'Ashengrotto'

"My, my. Got something for me, prefect?"

"Depending on the answer you'll give me, maybe."

the little spark of excitement in his azure blue eyes which perfectly reflected the light definitely confirmed your suspicions on whether he knew or not

"Hm~ Well then it seems I'm inclined to ask for the question."

"That was a statement."

"Is that relevant?"

"No I just wanted a reason to talk to you longer~"

the slightest surprise on his face quickly vanished as he tried to control his rapidly increasing heartbeat

"Well, don't keep me waiting [Name]. I'm a very busy merman after all. "

"Haha, okay I'll spare you the embarrassment."

"So, will you accept my feelings or are you just going to continue blushing?"

"Me, blushing? N-never."

"I have eyes, Ashengrotto. You'll have to do better than that!"

"There is no winning against you . . . Regarding your first question though, it would seem a waste if I said no."

"Yeah, a waste of the countless affection I'd be willing to give~"

"Affection doesn't produce a profit dear."

"No, it produces mutual feelings instead. And happiness, with the right person!"

as always, your witty remarks never failed to make him gain those adorable red hues across his cheeks

"If I ever die of exhaustion, it will be because of your antics."

"Correction, my cute antics :)"

"Well my dear angelfish, the exit is that way if you're done tormenting me."

"But the entrance to your heart is this way."

"Whatever will I do with you?"

"Dunno, but you got time to figure it out cause I'm not leaving."

✯; jade leech

his cryptic smile stayed on the minute he saw you at mostro lounge, discussing something with azul as the merman gave this huge sigh of exasperation and nodded his head at whatever you had asked

he (naturally) came up to you once azul decided to walk away from you

"Oya, oya~ What are you doing here my pearl?"

"Good question~ I'm sure you're smart enough to figure it out."

and figure it out he does once he catches a glimpse of the heart shaped turquoise box in your hand addressed to him in beautiful handwriting

"Hm, it would appear I'm totally clueless. If only you would be so kind as to explain the meaning of this."

"Oh what a true shame, Leech."

"Yes, very unfortunate indeed."

"Need I make it more obvious?"

"I might have to request a verbal explanation, fufu~"

"How about I give you the physical one instead~?"

undoubtedly, the wink and statement you gave him managed to make even the jade leech's heart itself skip a beat as he gulped slightly

"I wouldn't be entirely opposed to that."

"I'll take that as a yes for the feelings I'm confessing to you, then."

"And who am I to decline such proposal?"

"Just about the most charming man in existence~"

"Ah, you never do fail with coming up with pick-up lines it seems."

"Of course not, deem yourself lucky for being my test subject in that aspect Leech."

oh jade would definitely consider himself a winner if this is what he gets to hear after today

"Well I cannot say they're not entertaining~"

"And completely genuine, by the way."

if there was a world record for the most times someone manages to make the merman even slightly flustered, you'd definitely take the title with ease

"At this rate, I'll have to start coming up with my own quips. I can't be the only one getting swept of my feet like this."

"Hmph, that was smooth I'll give you that one!"

✯; floyd leech

has this stupid grin the second you step foot into his dorm room when jade is out, and it only widens once he realises what you're carrying with you

"Heya Koebi-chan~"

"In high spirits are we?"

"Hmmmm? Have I ever not been?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. And are you not going to ask why I'm here Leech?"

"No, why would I~ You're obviously here for me!"

"What if I was here for Jade?"

"Then I would make you stay here for me instead!"

even with his playful response, you could definitely tell that if you brought jade into this once more, floyd wouldn't spare you any mercy and have you be a victim of his infamous squeeze

"No need~ I actually did come here for you."

"Ehehe~ Of course you did!"

"Tsk, confident one aren't you?"

"Mhm~ Confident enough to say that the chocolates you're carrying are for me Koebi-chan!"

"Won't you look at that~ You guessed it right!"

the beat that floyd's heart skipped amplified the excitement he felt when you handed him the box of goods

"They smell really good! Are you sure you don't wanna work as a chef for the lounge"

"I'm good. And they look good too, I spent around an hour making them for you."

"No fair! I was going to confess first on white day. Spoiling my plans like this, the nerve~"

"I didn't confess yet Leech! But now that you reminded me, you better accept my feelings."

"Threatened with a confession? Didn't think that was your style haha!"

the merman definitely felt nothing but pure joy as he unwrapped the first chocolate and popped it into his mouth

"Hm~ So what if I did? As far as I know, the law doesn't prevent me from wanting to be with my crush."

"Ah, ah~! One more word and I'll give you a lil' squeeze."

"Did I ever say I would mind that?"

"Then I guess you won't Koebi-chan! But just so you know, I don't plan on letting go!"

___

♡ SCARABIA

✯; kalim al-asim

pleasantly surprised to find out that you're visiting scarabia and is immediately beaming at you when you enter with a cute looking box of what appeared to be spice laced chocolates (the smell made his mouth water!)

"Good morning [Name]! What a nice sight to see so early on!"

"Morning Asim, you're in a good mood~"

"That's because Jamil let me host a banquet for Valentine's day! Isn't he the best?"

"Let me guess, he made you promise to not cook with him after you insisted you wanted to help, right?"

"Woah are you sure you don't have magic yourself? That was so accurate!"

"You're too sweet sunshine, unfortunately that's still a no."

kalim grinned at the nickname as his heart palpitations grew, amplifying when he looked at the crimson box of chocolates with golden trimmings again

"So, is there a reason as to why you're visiting Scarabia?"

"Yeah, you're actually the whole reason."

"Ahhhh that's cute! Would you like to stay for the night?"

"Depending on your answer, maybe~"

"My answer to what?"

"To whether you'll accept my feelings or not."

the pearly white haired boy swears he felt his heart leap out his chest as his ruby red eyes widened

"Oh my- I'm so happy you feel the same way! I absolutely do accept yes!"

"You should also be happy about the fact I spent an hour making these!"

when you handed him the chocolates his perpetual grin only became bigger if that's even possible

"Awe thank you so much [Name]! You're the best!"

"Mhm no problem~ I made it a point to ask Viper for your favourite kind of chocolate."

"You're so sweet, how about we go on a magic carpet ride?? Like the one of that very old tale where princess Jasmin and-"

"Ah spare the details Asim, I know exactly which one you're talking about."

"Great! I heard it's very romantic. Ooh! Maybe we can do a cute duet too!"

"Whatever you want, just make sure you'll focus on the steering."

"But how would I focus on anything but you?"

"You asking me this so genuinely is actually surreal."

✯; jamil viper

the moment his smoky grey eyes landed on your form and the maroon heart shaped box you were carrying with you, he immediately knew what was up, or hoped he knew what it was

"Oh prefect. Good morning."

"As formal as always I see?"

"Were you expecting anything but?"

"I don't set unrealistic expectations, Viper."

"Was that an insult?"

"Are you taking it as one?"

"Do you ever give straight answers?"

"No but I will be needing a very straight answer from you though."

the teasing smile you gave jamil never ceased to make his heart skip a beat, no matter how much denial he was in at the present moment

"Depends on the question you ask, [Last name]."

"Hm rude~ I should be asking Kalim if he would accept my feelings instead . . . Too bad I'm already super invested in you, no?"

just the mention of kalim alone made a scowl appear on jamil's face as he gazed straight in your eyes

"Yes, and too bad I'm already accepting your feelings so you can't back out. What a shame."

"Woah Viper~ Possessive much! Not that I don't like it, ehe."

"Tsk, you're really irritating when you want to be."

"But it's only because I love your reactions. They simply get cuter as they go."

jamil looked at the ground as a red hue crept over his face, he feared that if you said anything else he might just lose every bit of self restraint he has

"And . . . you're sure you want to be with me? You know what it means . . ."

"Absolutely, 100% positive that you're the one and I am not budging on this no matter what you say."

"Tsk, you're not making this easy for me at all."

"Easy wouldn't be fun, just accept that we're totally fated already."

"Because you're madly in love with me ;)"

"Why do I even bother. . ."

"There you go, being delusional again."

♡ POMEFIORE

"Wouldn't have to be delusional if you didn't make me darlin'!"

___

✯; vil schoenheit

notices when you walk in right away, and is very quick to spot the velvety box you're carrying, definitely surprised when the tag reads 'Schoenheit'

"Afternoon prefect, do you need anything from me specifically?"

"Yeah your attention on me for a second or two."

"Well in that case, make it quick."

"Wow being this rude should be illegal~"

"So should taking up someone's time. Someone who has a scheduled shoot in approximately 4 hours."

"Are you saying I'm wasting your time?"

"Did you take my statement as such?"

"Guess I'll go confess to LeBlanche then~ I'm sure he'll like what I made."

vil's eyes narrowed in the slightest as a light scoff left his lips, he didn't expect such a reply but your fiery nature was one of the things as to why he fell for you in the first place so he didn't have a place to complain

"You're really something else entirely."

"Always have been, love~"

the nickname itself made the blonde shiver, but combined with your killer smile, he couldn't help but avert his eyes for a few seconds

"So I'm guessing you're here to confess after all?"

"Yeah, so if you would be as kind as to accept my feelings please~"

"You were already aware of what my answer would be, weren't you?"

"Oh definitely~ Now before you deny the gift, it's dark chocolate. And won't affect your daily calorie intake too much."

"Good, I do admire the thought behind that."

vil couldn't help but smile at the notion of you caring enough as to take care of the small details, but may have become even more smitten with you when he opened the box to see the beautiful designs which were clearly inspired by him

"You better appreciate them, took over an hour to make~"

"Would you really spend that much time and effort into making something so superficial?"

"Duh~ Only for you though!"

"In that case, thank you dear. Please do expect something in return on white day."

"Positively can't wait. Anything you do is bound to turn out great!"

✯; rook hunt

chances are he already knew you were making something, but didn't know for who so when you came into the pomefiore dorm and requested to see him, boy was he mildly amused (not to mentioned excited)

"Bonjour mon amour~ I've heard from Roi du Poison that you inquired about my whereabouts?"

"Well then your hearing must be excellent because that's exactly what I needed!"

"My, my you seem to be in a bonne humeur~"

"That's because my hard efforts to make the greatest chocolates ever paid off!"

"Oh? Tu as fait du chocolat? How intriguing, for who~?"

"For the person who stole my heart~"

rook glanced at the velvety red box in your hand yet to his dismay, couldn't see what was on the tag. however, that didn't stop him from wishing it was reserved for him

"As always, tu es très énigmatique, my dear."

"Hehe~ I saw you glancing at the tag. You must be curious~"

"Naturally, anyone would be, non?"

"Well, you better appreciate the effort I put into this because it's for you~"

the blonde haired hunter couldn't help but smile at the sweet gesture as he anticipated the confession which was sure to follow with a hitched breath

"Well I'd love to accept them."

"Since you're accepting the chocolates, you have to accept my feelings too Hunt~"

"With pleasure, [Name]. Or mon cœur. Whichever you prefer!"

"Are you trying to woo me with the way you say my name? Because it's working."

"That wasn't my intention, but I'm glad to hear this."

despite the cool facade rook maintained, he would definitely be lying if he said he didn't feel his heart drum faster throughout his chest at your endearing words

"If that's the case, then I should politely ask for you to stop charming me like that, it just isn't fair~"

"You're as equally charming mon amour, does that not equal out?"

"Unfair! You're doing it again."

"Je n'ai rien fait, je promets~"

✯; epel felmier

the way you came into his dorm with an apple pie laced with cinnamon, he definitely tried to suppress a smile that was threatening to break out on his face

" Hey prefect, what brings you here?"

"Oh you know, my legs."

"Hey- you know what I meant!"

"Okay, okay~ I'm here for a very important reason."

"That would be?"

"You're very impatient, read what's on the tag~"

"Uh, 'Felmier'. My last name?"

by this point, the lilac haired boy began to suspect what was up but nonetheless waited for what you'd say next with a hitched breath

"Congrats, you can read~ Now guess why I'm here."

"W-wait . . . Don't tell me you're . . . confessing?"

"That's exactly what I was about to do but I guess I won't tell you."

"Ah- wait that's not what I was sayin'- uh saying!"

"You should stop hiding your accent around me, it's so adorable~"

"Gh- whatever ya say just spill it!"

"Okay, okay~ Well I'm here to ask if you'd be willing to accept my feelings?"

"I- yeah . . . Yeah I do-"

"You're making it sound like we're getting married~ You should ask for my hand first!"

the red hues decorating epel's face along with the loud beating of his heart did not make it easier for him to look you straight in the eyes

"Oh just hand over the pie . . . I'm puttin' your efforts to the test."

"Hehe~ Okay, okay but you better appreciate it or else."

"I do . . .. And don't make a comment on that!"

"Okay I won't haha! For now."

"Hah- tsk I'll never carve apples for you again . . ."

"Hey Felmier! You take that back this instant!"

"Maybe if you beg for forgiveness."

"Is this how you treat your future spouse?"

"[N-name]!"

1K notes · View notes

the-one-who-lambs · 4 months

Text

"Propose," for @bamsara

HI YOUR DOODLES INSPIRED ME HERE'S A POETRY ATTACK. rambling below the cut.

At first, the death waltz is a misstep.

A sickening skeletal crack, a shape of an invisible scythe.

Sincerity is too kind a lie, but His sacrosanct

Protection (you think)

Lets you rise once more.

Death cannot keep you, but you would let Him

If he welcomes you.

You only believe what He thinks you should know.

The flames engulf you after the smoke does,

But your soul has nearly shed its corpse when you see them.

You stand in the vast chain-bound sanctuary and breathe

Fully (your lungs don’t remember being choked).

It is the first of a fitful of

Scorn and surprises and bone fingertips pressed against your skin.

He helps you to your feet.

Your heart should not beat here. In the infiniteness of your bosom it awakens.

The very semblance of the jagged-bare flesh

Encircling your neck is an intimacy in itself.

The blissful torment of the swordsman’s blade

Releases (so close to peril)

And He is already in your periphery.

Call it duty. Call it love.

Choose it as the last decision you’ll ever make.

Fate’s a tarot pull. You draw your card with eyes sealed shut.

You are a disgraced, depraved approximation of a person.

The chill of his embrace is warmer than the hands

That build the bonfire. It is in the name of

Someone (you shan’t say who)

And in the ashes of your grief your reflection

Stares back with three eyes.

The temptation to burn yourself seeps out,

Ichor-like. You don’t die tonight, not yet.

A careful drip of poison. The aftertaste of iron

In your mouth: communion seeping into your own goblet.

A moonshine moment of annihilation, however brief

Before (infectious, echoing, comforting)

You bleed out. You hope you die today.

He hopes you die today. It’s an

Ambrosial veil between you.

You slip beneath it with a sweet hello.

It’s never quite intentional until

The myths surrounding Him fall away.

The secrets you keep are shared, kept safe

Until (your reunion, this time, was not quite an accident)

They are intertwined: you are inescapably

Lonely and in your separate spheres

You vie for dominance. It’s a furious, bloodsoaked rendezvous.

It was always He who waited, but you’ll be patient.

He feels you in every dream. You

Stop time with your voices.

It’s His frustration melting away

With your kisses (you’re not there yet)

And makes Him yours, in freedom,

Dependent on nothing nobody you himself

The fetters are invisible but you hear them

Rattling every time your heart beats.

Your breath need not return anymore so you

Relearn to dodge the aim of an arrow, the pierce of a blade.

Living is foul, a promise half-hidden,

Desperate. (It lingers on your tongue.)

Death bound you together. You know how to die.

You have to remind yourself that heaven lays barren.

It will not hold you

Should Death keep you apart.

Get appreciated idiot /pos /lh

So, this was inspired by this post, which was super wholesome and sweet, but I couldn't write this without infusing it with the urgency and anxiety and sense of danger that looms over The Rehabilitation of Death. Bits and pieces of references to your AU are sprinkled in throughout. I hope you (and my readers and your readers as well) enjoy picking apart the themes here!

I actually wrote this live on stream last night! I made sure none of my friends were streaming before I started because I didn't want to miss anyone if someone was already live, but then you started streaming like 10 minutes later and I was like FUCK now I wanna watch you. But after a couple of hours on my new extra-hard CotL save (OUCH), I switched to writing and just... hoped you wouldn't pop in because I wanted this to be a surprise. For most of the writing part of the stream this poem was titled "IF SARA STOPS STREAMING SEND ME A WARNING."

Anyway, we don't usually get to talk more than a couple times per week because we both have Shit To Do, but you are SO FUN to be around and I am so so glad I met you!! Your friendship is a blessing and your creativity is a gift.

Also posted to AO3 as onethirdofimpossible here!

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #narinder #the lamb #poetry #Hannah writes #trod au

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five-and-dimes · 1 year

Text

Sloom

AO3

In many ways, Dream feels inferior to the rest of his family. Which means he struggles when Hob asks to meet them.

Well this took a million years longer to finish than I expected and as usual I struggled with the ending but we gotta call it done at some point, lads, so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream tries not to think about it too much, because it makes something in his heart ache when he does.

How he was made wrong.

He doesn't understand it- he was born the same way as his siblings, and yet somehow he is the only one… lacking. Everyone else understands humanity, everyone else understands themselves, everyone else doesn't struggle to connect, to speak, to share, to exist in a way that doesn't hurt.

Even Desire, whom he despises so much for all the games they play to torment him…

But then, Desire is only so cruel to him. Maybe that, too, is his fault.

He had thought it was enough to do his job well - to protect the dreamers and his realm and all the power it contains. He can withstand being a bad sibling, a bad friend, a bad husband, father, lover, person (he can withstand it, he can) as long as he is good at his job. He doesn't play games, he doesn't let himself get distracted, he fulfills his purpose, he is good at his job, and that is enough. It has to be.

(And then he fails at that, too.)

(He had made himself good for one thing. Now he is good for nothing.)

He walks with Death, and his elder sister lovingly twists the knife. She reminds him of all the ways he got it wrong, got all of it wrong, and he wonders if she would have bothered to come if he had called at Fawny Rig.

(He wonders if she would have come if one of their other siblings had been captured.)

(He wonders if they all aid each other when he's not looking.)

(He doesn't look.)

She tells him to visit Hob Gadling and it feels like an execution. He feels like he’s bleeding, like he’s being sentenced to a slow death, like all of his wounds are on display for anyone to dig their fingers into.

He feels like he deserves it.

And so he drags his feet, first to the hollowed out husk of the White Horse, and then following a bright line to someplace new, someplace glowing with life and possibility and when he crosses the threshold he feels like a weed. He is too dark for this place, too cold, and when he sees Hob he expects to be kicked out like a stray dog.

Hob smiles at him. Smiles, and Dream feels a little less cold.

“You’re late.”

No condemnation. No cruelty. No accusation or malice or brutality.

Dream is breathless with it.

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

Somehow, Hob’s smile brightens. When Dream sits across from him, he feels, for the first time since 1916- no, since long, long before then- that he is welcome and wanted.

When he came here Dream had braced himself for punishment. Instead, they sit and talk long into the evening. Soft and hesitant, Dream gives Hob his name, and Hob glows like he’s been given the answers to the universe. Bright and enthusiastic, Hob speaks of all he has done in the past century, and Dream listens and lets himself sink comfortably into the warmth of companionship.

Eventually, Dream knows he must return to his responsibilities. It aches to think of leaving this soothing place, but he feels as though a balm has been spread on his wounds. Still hurting and aching, but less so than before.

Before he stands to depart, Hob places a hesitant hand on his wrist.

“Feel free to drop by before 2089, yeah? Anytime.”

There is a long pause while Dream considers that. Despite how kind he had been, it feels inconceivable that Hob would want to see Dream more than he has to. But he cannot deny the way his chest clenches with hope at the idea of feeling this warmth again so soon.

Perhaps it is selfish.

But Dream agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time it comes up is on their third meeting in as many weeks.

They are sitting together on a comfortably worn couch in Hob’s flat above the New Inn, next to each other but still with a respectable distance between them. Dream is trying very, very hard not to misstep in his friendship with Hob. And a part of that, he understands, means sharing the information Hob has asked for for so long.

It is a deeply uncomfortable experience for Dream. A part of him (the part that is still, in some way, shivering deep in the Burgess basement) cries that his secrecy is all that has protected him. That Hob, in his human greed and longing, will turn into Roderick the moment he realizes what Dream is, what he could get from him, what he could take from him.

(That same part of him, curled up the cold glass orb of his heart, cries that it’s better to just give it to him.)

And yet, in all that Dream tells him, Hob never turns cruel. He explains his function, his creation and rule over dreams and nightmares, and Hob’s eyes alight with wonder. He describes his realm, his subjects and landscapes and the Sea of Dreams, and Hob leans forward like an excited child.

And, when he stiltedly explains the nature of the Endless, Hob laughs fondly.

“You know, that actually explains so much.”

Dream tilted his head in confusion, “How do you mean?”

Hob waved his hand vaguely, leaning back in his seat, “Well, all your cute little quirks,” Dream resolutely ignores the warmth in his face from being called cute, “how formally you speak, and all the human things that seem to go over your head. Of course human social niceties aren’t natural to you, not only are you not human, you’re as old as the universe.”

Frowning, Dream looks down at his hands in his lap. He thinks, as he often does, of Death. Of her easy mingling with humans, her casual conversation, the way people smile at her. He thinks of his own shy smile and how all it does is make people walk away faster.

He doesn’t think being Endless explains anything about him, actually.

(It occurs to him, suddenly, that maybe it is not that he wishes to be unmade. He simply wishes he had been made right.)

(Or, perhaps, never made at all.)

“Hey.”

A warm hand covers his, and he looks up to find Hob leaning into his space, shooting him a small smile despite the concern in his eyes, “I’m not criticizing. It’s endearing,” he laces their fingers together, soft and gentle, “I like your quirks.”

That word again. Dream swallows, feels the words build at the base of his throat, they are flaws, they are faults, do not be fooled, do not show me mercy I do not deserve.

But before he gets a chance to explain, to warn him, Hob leans in closer, “I like you.”

The kiss is hesitant, he can taste the anxiety on Hob’s lips, the way he clutches his hand a little harder as though bracing to be pushed away. Dream does not have the strength to push him away. It takes every ounce of effort he has just to keep his tears from falling as he melts against Hob, pressing closer and drinking in Hob’s sigh of relief.

Dream stays long into the night, until Hob drifts to sleep in the circle of his arms. He never corrects Hob’s assumption on his nature, the words still stuck in his throat. Choking him.

But not enough to open his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Hob drawled, putting his arm around Dream's shoulders in a way that was clearly trying to be casual and not succeeding even a little, "When do I get to meet your family?"

Several months have passed (several months of opportunities to tell the truth, to be honest, to crack his ribs open and show Hob everything wrong with him-) and their relationship has grown like a blooming flower. Dream feels warm with Hob, and Hob smiles easily whenever he visits.

Dream does not want it to end.

He hums in consideration, even as his entire body tenses against his will. He has told Hob about his family, though not extensively. He has told him their names, and the order of their birth, but not the intricacies of his relationships with them.

(He has not, even once, mentioned his parents. Hob hasn’t asked.)

(One of the first nightmares he ever crafted was that of a child crying for a parent who refuses to turn around.)

Beside him, Hob shifts a little uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as he rambles, “I know it’s one of those silly human things, the whole ‘meet the fam’ part of a relationship, but well, y’know me, always curious about your life.”

Hob does that fairly frequently, explaining “human mysteries” or sometimes laughing fondly as he guides his “silly Endless” through whatever social mishap he’s found himself in. Always explaining away Dream’s stumbles with his inhumanity.

And now, he wants to meet his family, and Dream’s chest tightens at the thought of Hob expecting to meet more cold and aloof entities who don’t know where to put their hands and instead being met with Endless who are so much better.

“I… understand,” His speech is as faltering as the rest of him. “If you would like. To meet one of them. I can arrange a meeting.”

Pulling him closer against his side, Hob’s eyes brighten with excitement, even as he checks, “Are you sure?”

Dream nods, barely feeling the kiss on his cheek as he thinks of each of his siblings in relation to Hob.

Delirium and Hob would likely find each other a delight (an irony which does not escape him), both so vivid and full of life, always looking at things in new ways. They are both so bright, so colorful in their own ways. So jarring next to Dream's darkness.

(He pictures Delirium questioning why someone as nice as Hob is with her mean older brother.)

(He pictures Hob realizing he doesn't have an answer.)

He does not think he could bring himself to call Destruction, if he would even answer, but he thinks he and Hob would make fine friends- both turning away from the violence of their pasts, searching instead for ways to grow and nurture.

(Dream had to be punished into changing. Had to be tortured in order to grow.)

(He thinks he grew like a weed. Or perhaps an infection. Just because he is more does not mean he is good.)

If he's honest with himself, he thinks Hob and Desire would get along as well. Hob would probably be good for his sibling in a similar way that he was for Dream, able to understand the soft parts that Desire hides, and them able to share in the joys that life has to offer in a way Dream struggles to, so accustomed to denying his own wants.

(Desire hurt him. Desire hurt him.)

(He has been told that he is worse.)

Thinking about it, he thinks Despair would like Hob. He had the unique ability to truly appreciate despair and understand its value, and Despair had an appreciation for life that Hob could relate to.

(What does it say about him, he wonders, that Despair wants to live more than Dream does?)

Destiny would almost certainly decline any offer to meet, and Dream doesn’t know that he and Hob would be friends, per say, but…

(He imagines Destiny standing before the immortal, forgoing any small talk and telling Hob bluntly that he is destined for things far greater than his broken little brother.)

But, in the end, he knows there was always one person Dream wanted Hob to meet, even if it makes him lose him. So he steels himself and forces the words out.

"Hob, would you like to meet my elder sister, the one who gave you your immortality?"

“Death?” Hob goes a little wide eyed, “Is that- I mean, I can meet her without, y’know…” he makes a crude slashing motion across his throat.

“Of course,” Dream answers steadily, “She can be present among mortals without bestowing her gift upon them. She will not take you. Unless. You ask.”

“No, no, not planning that anytime soon,” Hob is quick to reassure, “Or ever, really,” he tacks on with a smirk and a wink.

Nodding, Dream allows himself to reach out and take Hob’s hand. He will miss this warmth. “I will speak with her, then. And arrange a meeting.”

Hob’s grin is wide and bright, and Dream can feel it as Hob presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his cheek bone, “Excellent! This will be fun, Love! I’ll pick up some of that wine that you liked enough to actually drink- or, would you rather we meet in the Dreaming?”

Dream only barely manages to suppress a cringe, but even so he bows his head, as if he could somehow hide within his own curled spine.

“I would. Prefer to let you meet on your own.”

Hob's smile falters, "What? Why?"

Because I do not want you to see us side by side. Because I do not want to make my lacking more obvious than it already will be. Because I won't survive seeing the moment your eyes turn cold. Because I'm scared.

"I merely wish you to get to know each other without my influence."

He can see so clearly in his mind’s eye, Hob glancing back and forth between the two siblings, one so charming and kind and good, and the other… lesser. Lacking. Dream does not wish to be present for that realization.

Recovering his grin, Hob laughed lightly, "Ballsy of you. Most folks I know wouldn't have the guts to leave their siblings and their partners alone together," he leans forward to play with Dream's hair teasingly, "What if we exchange secrets, eh?"

I'm a liar, I lied to you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-

“That is within your right.”

Hob laughs, startled, and pulls Dream flush against his side, “What a fair ruler you are,” he says jokingly, “Well, I can’t wait. It’ll be endlessly fun,” he winks, trying to get a rise out of Dream.

Dream smiles back. But it’s a little weaker than usual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream stares at the ankh for a long time before he picks it up. A childish part of him wants to leave the gallery and feed Hob lies and excuses. Death is very busy, she could not make the time, I called and she didn’t answer, she didn’t answer, it has happened before-

But. What would that accomplish besides delaying the inevitable?

He cradles the ankh in his hands, “Death. I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil.”

“Dream!” He can hear the smile in Death’s voice, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wish to discuss. A personal matter. Would you care to join me?”

Death steps beside him almost before he can finish speaking, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

She's so casual and easygoing, but a part of Dream can't help but search for any lingering anger or resentment from their last talk. He wonders if she's forgiven him.

(He wonders if he's worth forgiving.)

Straightening, he explains flatly, "Hob Gadling wishes to meet you," he pauses before adding, "In a nonprofessional manner."

Snorting, Death replied, "Well, I could have guessed that," she grinned, "But you're finally letting me meet your little project?"

"He has become. Far more than a project."

"I know, I'm teasing, silly," she shoved his shoulder playfully, "I'd love to meet him! Just tell me when and where and I'll make some time."

Nodding, he considers his options. He is torn between stretching out his time with Hob and simply getting it over with. In the end, he chooses what he feels is a polite and reasonable timeframe.

“One week from tomorrow, in the afternoon. At the New Inn.”

“I’ll be there,” grinning, Death linked their arms together, “I can’t wait, I bet you two are sickeningly adorable together.”

A bitter part of him thinks Death would just be sad to see someone like Hob shackled to Dream.

“I will not be present. This meeting is for you and Hob.”

Death pulls back to look at Dream’s face, frowning in confusion. For a moment she seems to consider her words, before settling on a question, “What’s going on in that head of yours, little brother?”

Dream meets her gaze and answers flatly, “Nothing of importance.”

There is exasperation in her voice as she huffs, “I hate that you really believe that.”

He loves his sister so very much. And he does not have the strength to be yelled at right now.

So he straightens his spine and keeps his voice even, “I will let Hob know of the time of your appointment,” he allows himself to soften, just slightly, “He is looking forward to meeting you.”

“I look forward to meeting him, as well.” Death knows she has been dismissed, and so she gives Dream one final squeeze on his arm before departing back to her duties, a gentle rustle of feathers echoing through the gallery.

For a long moment, Dream stands in his gallery alone, gazing at the sigils of his siblings.

He will go and tell Hob of his upcoming meeting with Dream’s sister. And if he stays longer than strictly necessary, if he presses a little closer than he usually does, he if stares too long at Hob’s face in an attempt to commit his smile to memory, Hob is nice enough not to comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is not raining in the Dreaming.

Dream does not feel that kind of sadness. There is grief, for certain but… it is a grief he believes he has no right to feel. This is not sorrow, it is justice, a loss of something that was never his to have. He cannot cry, he cannot mourn, he can't, he can't, he just-

The Dreaming is covered in a thick layer of fog.

A white mist, so thick it feels like you could move it with your hands, wade through it, drown in it. Dream is in one of the gardens surrounding the palace, grinding his teeth and trying desperately to make it go away. He had hoped that going outside would at least help clear the fog that had permeated the palace halls. Matthew had flown into a wall twice before resigning himself to perching on Lucienne’s shoulder until the hallways were visible again, and Dream does not think he could survive if another raven was injured due to his weakness.

The week had passed too quickly for his liking, time showing him no mercy. He had visited Hob each day, an unusual occurrence that Hob had raised an eyebrow at but otherwise not commented on. And in all that time, Dream had still not told him the truth. He did not explain that the Endless he was to meet would be nothing like Dream because Dream was nothing like the other Endless, did not confess to having cheated more time with Hob by misleading him about his nature. And now, it was too late. Hob would leave, and Dream would always be a liar.

Sighing, he leans against the tree behind him, looking up and frowning as the fog hides even the leaves above him. Sometimes he wishes he had more control over his connection to the Dreaming. More control over himself. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they wish mastery over their own bodies, their organs, their blood.

The fog is getting thicker.

Growling deep in his throat, Dream presses the tips of his fingers against his temples. There is no reason for him to feel so… lost. He has existed and survived before Hob, and he will continue to do so after. Happiness is not necessary. And besides, he has wanted to be a better person, and would a better person not prioritize their loved one’s happiness over their own? It is an irrefutable fact that Hob deserves better than Dream is capable of, so it is the least Dream can do to not stand in his way.

Pulling his knees to his chest, he wraps his arms loosely around them, feeling as bare and exposed as he had in Fawney Rig, suddenly thankful for the cover of fog. Perhaps, he could allow himself this respite. A moment of selfishness, and then he would pull himself together. Just one night to grieve where no one could see him. Just one night to hide-

“There you are!”

Dream’s head snaps up, eyes wide with a shock he could not hope to conceal.

Because Hob is here.

The immortal is smiling, like he has every other time he’s seen Dream, stumbling slightly through the fog before plopping himself down to sit pressed against Dream’s side. This close, he can see the spark of concern in his eyes even as he throws an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“Well this is a bit different. You know I saw Merv actually sweeping the fog? What’s crazier is it was working, swept it into a big pile and then pushed it out the front door. I know anything is possible here, but I will admit I did spend a few minutes just staring at that spectacle.”

Throughout his rambling, Dream is aware that he is staring. A quick assessment of his own body alerts him to the fact that his mouth is parted, and he is literally gaping at Hob. How unbecoming.

When he fails to respond to his story, Hob’s smile dims, and the concern in his eyes amplifies, “Hey… is everything alright?”

No. Nothing makes sense. He feels more lost than before. He thinks the fog is getting thicker, heavier, colder.

“You…” He clears his throat, trying to compose himself even a little, “You were. Supposed to meet Death today. Did. Did that. Not happen?” That is the only logical explanation.

But Hob shakes his head, “No, we did, got back a couple hours ago, just took me a bit to fall asleep,” he chuckles a bit to himself, “She’s a riot, honestly, nothing at all like all the skull and crossbones nonsense.” He gives Dream a warm smile, “I can see why you two get along so well.”

Dream is. Dream is-

He opens his mouth, and all that comes out is fog.

“Woah, okay,” Hob jumps a little, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his grip around Dream’s shoulders tightens.

Fog is drifting from the corners of Dream’s eyes.

He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He feels so lost-

“Alright, hey, hey,” Hob pulls him closer, wrapping him in a firm embrace, “Love, I think we should go to the Waking, okay? Is that alright?”

Dream forces himself to nod against Hob’s chest. His body is no more bound in the Waking than it is in the Dreaming, but sometimes the distance makes it… easier, if only a little, to keep his shape. As opposed to here, where the edges of Dream and the Dreaming often blur together. Like now.

Hob kisses the crown of his head, and Dream can feel him pulling away, waking up, and Dream follows the pull. In the space between realms, he forces his form together, like holding a door shut, like clenching a fist. When he arrives, he is laying on top of Hob, who is splayed out on his couch. Some hysterical part of him wants to scold Hob for not settling in his bed to sleep.

As Hob fully awakens, his arms reach up to embrace Dream, and Dream can’t help but curl his hands in Hob’s shirt. Slow and gentle, Hob maneuvers them to sit up, and when he pulls back, Dream cannot look him in the eye.

“Hey…” Hob cups his face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles on the hinge of Dream’s jaw, and Dream realizes for the first time that he is clenching his teeth together hard enough to crack human bone. He fears what will come out if he opens his mouth.

“You’re alright, dove,” Hob whispers, still trying to coax Dream into relaxing his jaw, “Everything is alright, I’m right here, sweetheart, I’ve got you my love.”

It takes a few minutes, just Hob whispering softly and soothing his fingers over Dream’s skin, but eventually Dream musters the courage to let his teeth separate, parting his lips just slightly. He sags with relief when all that escapes him is a shaky breath.

“There you are,” Hob presses a kiss to Dream’s forehead before tucking his head beneath his chin and pulling him into a hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Ever patient, he waits until Dream is breathing evenly to question him, “What’s going on, dearheart?” He rocks them back and forth as he speaks, “You’ve been off all week. I should have said something sooner, but I thought you were just nervous about me meeting your sister.”

Swallowing thickly, Dream forces himself to answer, “I was.”

Hob pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion, “Okay, but everything went fine? I told you, we got along great.”

“But…”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Dream feels as lost now as he did in the Dreaming. How does he explain this to Hob? How does he explain it without drawing Hob’s attention to that which he somehow missed? He should be grateful that Hob is still here, how is he supposed to tell him this truth without making him leave?

Is he destined to make him leave no matter what?

Belatedly, he realizes he is still clutching Hob’s shirt.

He lets him go.

“I did believe. That you would enjoy each others’ company,” he explains resignedly, “And I assumed that in your meeting, I would. Lose your favor.”

Had he been looking, he would have seen Hob’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “You thought I would like her more than you?” His voice is heavy with disbelief.

“In a sense…” He had not considered Hob finding romantic interest in Death, as Hob seems to think, “I merely thought that. In meeting her, you would realize…”

(Death never struggled with her words the way Dream, the Prince of Stories, always seemed to.)

Taking a deep breath, he tries again, “We are both Endless. And yet. She is…”

“Different?”

“Better.”

Hob sucks in a breath as though he’s been slapped, “Dream-”

“You think that all the things wrong with me are due to my nature as an Endless,” Dream interrupts, the dam broken as he spills out everything he has been holding back for months, “and I let you believe that. But the truth is, my siblings are not like me. They do not struggle with humanity as I do, nor do they share my penchant for arrogance and cruelty. Death is older than I, and yet you saw her- she is kind, and she speaks normally, and she understands-” His voice cracks, and he has to pause, closing his eyes and forcing his molecules to stay solid. To stay here.

“The problem is not that I am Endless,” he confesses in a whisper, “The problem is that I am… me.”

Dream keeps his eyes downcast, fixated on the texture of the couch in the space between them. He wonders if Hob will chastise him for his deceit or simply tell him to leave, wonders if he will demand punishment or repayment.

One hand laces their fingers together, as the other gently cups Dream’s cheek. Hob does not try to tilt Dream’s face or make him meet his eyes. He just holds him.

“I happen to like ‘you’ very much, actually.”

Hob’s voice is soft as a breath, quiet despite the devastation and sorrow painting each word. Dream closes his eyes as Hob leans forward to brush their foreheads together.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he states firmly, confidently, “You’re not perfect, I know that, the same way you know that I’m not either. But there’s nothing wrong with you.”

The conviction in his voice gives Dream just enough courage to open his eyes. Hob’s eyes are filled with tears and shining with so much love it takes Dream’s breath away. When their eyes meet, Hob gives him a sad smile and brushes his thumb along his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry. For ever making you think you needed to explain away parts of yourself,” He brings Dream’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his trembling knuckles, “I don’t love you in spite of anything. I just love you.”

Dream wants to argue. He wants to give every example from his long, long life that he is wrong, that Dream is defective and unworthy and unlovable.

But when Hob kisses him, whispers “I love you” against his lips, he finds himself… hoping. That maybe Hob is right. That maybe this is another bet he would lose to the strength that is Hob Gadling’s love.

Later, after Hob has held him long enough that he does not feel like he may fall apart, he will give his arguments. Later he will state his case and Hob will not hesitate in debating right back, punctuating his points with soft kisses and fond smiles. And it will not fix everything right away, as much as they both wish it would. But it will feel like a start, like adding support beams to a faulty foundation, like strengthening the parts of Dream that always felt a breeze away from buckling.

But for now, Hob holds him tight and whispers against his hair, “You want to hear a secret?”

When Dream hums questioningly against his neck, he presses a kiss to his temple, “Death isn’t perfect either.”

Dream lets out a barking laugh, and then another, and another, and then he is sobbing and holding Hob like he is the only thing keeping him together because he is, and maybe this outburst is just another flaw of his.

Regardless. Hob still holds him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month later, Hob and Dream invite Death over for drinks. Three very different people sit in hob’s living room, and they drink wine, and laugh, and Hob occasionally scolds Death when he feels Dream stiffen at some of her teasing.

Before she leaves, Death pulls Dream into a hug, patting his back even as he stands stiffly in the circle of her arms, “I was right. Sickeningly adorable, both of you.”

Dream huffs, but feels no real offense or embarrassment at her words. It is still hard to trust that this is real, sometimes. But all night he had searched Hob’s eyes, and even when Death made him laugh or understood some human reference, he still turned to look at Dream with love and joy.

As hard as it is to believe, the truth is that Hob sat with both of them, and when he grew tired he asked Death to leave.

But he asked Dream to stay.

#the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fic #my writing #projecting on characters in the club tonight

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brewstersbru · 7 months

Text

More halstarion cuz ive been playing my lil origin run; also happy halloween folks !

Pain. Sharp, dragging, unbearable agony against his back. Astarion huffs a small noise of pitiful discontent before clenching his mouth shut. Quiet. Can’t let him hear you. His fangs tear a little into his gums, but there isn’t enough blood in him for any to really trickle out of the wounds.

A voice- disembodied, but cold and lilting as ever- sounds from behind. “My dear, how prettily you bleed. Even lovelier now, with the poetry I am bestowing upon you. Truly, a gift. And what do we say to gifts, Astarion?”

Astarion moans miserably into the ground- or is it a steel surgical table? He can’t remember, he can’t focus. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. There’s a feeling of hands in his hair, grasping, tearing- the flash of a derisive, fanged grin- “What do we say, Astarion?”

His name sounds like rot coming from his lips, similar to the way one would utter the word “disgusting” or “vile”. Astarion hiccups with the force of his suffering- it’s simply too much, never before has Cazador been so persistent, never before has he carved so deep, for so long. Astarion’s weak, starving body cannot maintain itself against his tides of cruelty.

There is quiet as Cazador waits for his answer, he knows Astarion will do his very best to give it. Years and years of this torment had to have culminated into something- into an exceedingly loyal dog, he’d hoped. It’s why he tries not to command anything; not only because it takes the fun out of things, but also because it encourages a kind of devotion to the task that a simple order could never elicit. Pain can be such a useful tool, and he’s spent years honing his skill with it.

Astarion gasps, chokes on a putrid mix of saliva and droplets of rat blood as they clog in his throat. “T-Thank you.” He coughs. Cazador hums and pushes his head back down. He runs a sharp nail down the middle of the warm, wet mess on Astarion’s back. It stings like a million tiny needles.

“Thank you, what?”

He digs the nail into one of the runes he’d just finished carving, ever so slightly, and Astarion writhes in agony. His breath comes choppy and ragged, and tears track endlessly down his nose. A moment, two, as Astarion brings a heaving breath in and steels himself against the revulsion he is about to feel.

“Thank you, Master.” The hum this elicits is decidedly pleased and Astarion hates himself all the more for earning it. If only he was stronger, if only he were able to hold out just a bit longer. If only he’d been able to make himself wait; Cazador would have grown tired, would have ordered him, eventually.

Now, he is little more than a lapdog, bereft of even his pride, and the pain will only continue. How he despises the man he’s become, the man Cazador has moulded him into.

The agony in his back resumes, even sharper and more unbearable than before. Astarion muffles a scream behind clenched teeth and wrenches his eyes open to reveal a circling of trees. A cool gust of air swipes across his sweat-soaked skin and he shivers, slightly.

Astarion takes a moment to orient himself. He’d been trancing, curled into himself and facing away from the fire- Gods know why, he could use all the heat he can get with the way his undead body refuses to hold onto it on its own; some lingering self-flagellation, perhaps.

He’s no longer bound to Cazador- for the time being at least- he’s fine. The ‘dream’ or whatever that had been was only a memory. Nothing more. He’s fine.

Sitting up, he swats at the tear tracks on his cheeks and comes face-to-face with a wide-eyed Halsin, who had been whittling, it seems, judging by the knife in one hand and the partially carved wooden-something in the other. Astarion ducks and covers his face with a slender hand.

“What in the hells are you doing, you oaf!?”

“… Whittling?” Halsin’s voice cracks a bit as he stumbles over the word. Astarion tries not to notice how endearing that is. He huffs.

“I gathered. Could you just- turn around? Please?”

Halsin tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and stares at him with furrowed brows, mouth set in a firm line. He speaks carefully, but directly, unable to tiptoe around a subject when they’re both aware of the gravity of it.

“Are you alright, my friend? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just I noticed-“

“Not now.” Astarion’s voice comes out rough, grating, and he cannot bring himself to look Halsin in the eye as he speaks.

“… Alright” There’s a shuffling as- assumedly- Halsin picks himself up and heads back to his tent. Astarion only allows himself a breath of relief when the other man’s footsteps retreat outside of his range of hearing.

On one hand, Astarion is astoundingly, exceedingly grateful to have his wishes honored. On the other, it is so, very quiet, and he can still feel the ghosts of fingers petting, clawing and grasping at his skin. He feels dirty, a vile little thing ought to be left in the dirt.

His back aches- phantom pains, he knows- and even years after their conception his scars throb. It’s not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time he’s been able to focus on it, the first time no other, greater pain can distract him from the dull shock of remembrance. Maybe he’d never healed correctly, maybe it’s his mind playing its usual tricks.

Suddenly unable to stand the scratch of cloth against the raised skin on his back, Astarion wrestles his shirt off of himself. Sharp nails dragging uncaringly against the skin as if trying to sate an itch. He wants the ‘poetry’ off of himself, he wants to be clean.

His scratching becomes more fervent, less careful as his thoughts spiral. A sob works its way up, only to die in his throat, he chokes a little on it. Off. Off. Off. He needs it off. He wishes he could claw the taint away. His skin crawls under his fingernails, even as they scratch past skin. Blood flows, sluggish, down the bony curve of his spine. It is not an unfamiliar feeling.

A sharp gasp sounds, quiet, but cutting in the previous silence that had pervaded the space around the campfire. Astarion does not dare look up from the ground. Great. Another interruption to him losing his fucking mind.

Thankfully- which, who could guess he’d ever think the word in relation to the druid- it’s just Halsin again. Arms now laden with jars and cloth, rather than the sharp woodworking tools he’d left the fire with. The jars are labeled, but his scrawl is too small for Astarion to parse the words.

“Astarion, my friend, please cease this needless self-mutilation!” He rushes to Astarion’s side, carefully placing the jars on the side of his bedroll and gently, loosely grasping at Astarion’s wrists- assumedly to encourage the vampire to pry his claws from his skin. He doesn’t push, simply holds him there.

The warmth is welcome, grounding in the swirl of pain and cold and despair that had previously been clouding Astarion’s mind. He lets out an unnecessary, but comforting breath and allows his hands to be pried away.

“Good. That’s good, my friend, thank you.”

Astarion grouses a discontented sound, to which Halsin huffs a small chuckle.

“Alright- you’re alright. You were looking rather pale- moreso than usual at least- and I had hoped some of my oils or salves could soothe any injuries you’d overlooked, or old aches.” He pauses for a moment and rifles through the pile of goods he’d brought over, “As elves, our ‘nightmares’ are more memories, than anything. I’m more than familiar with a long-forgotten wound making itself known after a particularly jarring remembrance. I am sorry yours were so visceral.”

He’s babbling, Astarion notices, low voice rather quick compared to its usual steady thrum, but he can appreciate the effort in attempting to keep him grounded. His body doesn’t want to move, though, and he simply slumps into himself, gaze steadily forward, hollow, almost in its vacancy.

“Here let me-“ A warmth hovers over the mess of Astarion’s back. Well, this is rather familiar. But it pauses,hesitates. Still, Astarion can feel himself tensing. A short, ragged sound punches out of him, unwitting. Halsin hums.

“Apologies, my friend, it seems my manners have escaped me in my nerves. May I touch you? I wish only to soothe the hurt, I have a balm that should do the trick well and once I’ve applied it, my hands will not touch your skin again should you wish it.”

Astarion takes a moment, another unnecessary breath, then nods. It’s curt, almost imperceptible really, but Halsin had been paying very close attention to his body’s reactions. He thanks him- what for, Astarion cannot even begin to fathom.

It’s quiet as Halsin’s deft fingers tenderly pass a wet towelette down his spine to clean the blood from it. It soothes, cool and stinging against new cuts and Astarion can only hope that at least he’d left new scars. Something to disrupt the carving of pure malice that had lain there, undisturbed, for so long.

“Thank you.” It takes a while, and his voice is fairly destroyed by what he can only assume had been long minutes of screaming and sobbing in his sleep, coupled with the panic attack after waking. Halsin’s fingers continue their deft work.

“Please. No need. If I may I- I hate to see you struggle so. Is there anything that caused it? Anything we can avoid?” His sincerity is sweet, but useless. Astarion shakes his head.

“Comes and goes, really. Used to be able to ignore it with other things. Can’t focus on memories when the present is fucked too, right?” Astarion chuckles, but Halsin does not join in.

It’s quiet for a bit, Halsin’s hands feel almost hesitant against his skin, “I am not a man easily drawn to violence but- well- your old master deserves nothing but the slowest, most painful death possible. I know it means little but I am sorry. You did not deserve his torment. No one could deserve that.”

“I was no angel in life, druid. For a long time, it seemed like a penance.” The words are almost hissed, but the sincerity in them is unmistakable.

“Even penance ends, eventually, Astarion. Forgiveness usually follows. Two hundred years is more than enough time. Especially when you had not even truly lived before being thrust into undeath- I mean thirty-nine? You still bear your child name.” Halsin sounds almost pained, although his hands remain steady, now pressing fingerfuls of balm to each cut, and even the undamaged rune-scars too. Something in Astarion howls, surges forward into an incessant rage at the tenderness.

“And perhaps I was a truly devilish child, druid! Perhaps I deserved it!” Halsin sighs.

“No one deserves that, Astarion. You have to know that.”

“If I allow myself to believe that, then I have to accept victimhood. I have to accept that loss of control. I have to accept that it’s not that I deserved it, it’s that no one cared enough to try to save me. Tell me, druid, which would you rather believe.” With a final, gentle pass of his thumb Halsin retreats. Shamefully, Astarion misses the warmth of his touch. The druid rounds his bedroll, settling criss-crossed in front of him and busying himself with organizing his bottles into a neat pile.

“Well, first, I’d like it if you used my name and not my title. It feels rather impersonal talking to you when you won’t even call me ‘Halsin’. Second, I truly don’t know, but I have always favored the truth over anything else.”

Astarion hisses, “I will call you what I like, not what you tell me to call you.” Halsin simply nods, and something inside him deflates. Backs down from its haunches.

“Oh, alright, you big baby. Halsin. Maybe the truth is that I was- however implausibly- the kind of person to deserve my penance.”

Halsin seems to light up at the sound of his name from Astarion’s lips. Astarion tries to find it dorky and uncool and not hopelessly endearing. Then, “I find that incredibly hard to believe. Had you even chosen an adult name? Had anything in mind?”

Astarion falls quiet at this. “I had an idea, a few, maybe. I remember being excited about them, I thought I was so clever with the word choice… But I cannot remember them. Cazador only called me by this name, when he deigned to adress me, and I did not exactly have the time or energy to care about choosing another.”

Something within Halsin cracks at the admission. To have that rite stolen from him was abhorrent. Heartbreaking.

“Truly you remember nothing?”

Astarion shrugs, “Hard to find that kind of thing important when there are other, more pressing matters. It’s not like the names would fit me anymore, either, two hundred years have taken their toll, after all.” He smiles, a crooked, self-depreciating thing and gestures to himself, the scars on his back. “Thank you, by the way. I wouldn’t have treated them on my own.” The thanks doesn’t even need to be forced from his lips. Halsin smiles at the ease with which it is offered.

“No need. And I know.”

It’s quiet for a while longer. The two of them take the time to simply look at each other. Astarion wonders, for perhaps the millionth time, what Halsin is seeing as he gazes at him with such open fondness and admiration. Surely it cannot be him. Godssakes he hasn’t even seen himself in two hundred years, who knows what kind of effect it’s had on his wrinkles. He tries not to dwell.

“I’m going to read.” Astarion says, when he can no longer stand the thought of just how many lines have been carved in his face, without the help of Cazador’s many painful instruments. Halsin simply nods, but continues searching his face. Astarion is unsure what he’s looking for, but is fairly certain, whatever it is, has long since left him. Nowadays he’s mostly bared teeth and vengeance more than anything.

“Please, go right ahead. If you would not protest, I would very much like to join you. I’ll whittle, stay quiet so you can focus. Would that be alright?” He tilts his head to the side, and, with the way he’s fiddling with a jar, seems so incredibly bear-like in the moment that Astarion has to clamp down on a giggle.

“… Alright. But you had better keep that promise to stay quiet.” Halsin grins, a warm, blinding thing.

“As a mouse. And we druids are rather good at mimicking animals, you know.”

A laugh punches itself from Astarion’s throat as he heads back to his tent and settles on some pillows, his most recent thick tome open in his lap.

It’s not long before Halsin is quietly announcing his presence, shuffling around to settle a few feet away, legs tucked up under him as he situates himself against the nearest surface- a stolen chest from one of the many towers they’d rummaged through.

It’s easy to forget he’s there- or, no, it’s easy to simply exist in a space with him. Astarion doesn’t feel the need to perform or prove anything to him- after all, he’s basically seen him at his worst- and the silence is warm. Interrupted, every so often, by the methodical scrape of metal against wood, or the crisp flipping of a page.

Before he can stop himself, Astarion’s fallen into another trance. This time blissfully devoid of any visions or memories.

He wakes to an empty tent, but his book is neatly bookmarked and stowed beside his bedroll. He, himself had been carefully tucked under a pelt of some sort- a piece he knew was not from his own tent- and next to the book lay a small, intricately carved wooden star. On the back, a careful engraving:

little star, how you shine

It feels like a declaration.

#if you couldnt tell im enamored with the idea of halsin carving lil trinkets for his bf #and astarion secretly loving them #very nascent (new word i learned from a commenter ily) romance #bg3 #astarion #halsin #halsin x astarion #halstarion #astarion ancunin #enjoy #no idea how long this is but oh well #happy halloween have gay people!!#tipsy scribbles #brublurbs

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

Note

I got an idea from the child reader request.

Like the same wolf in sheep's clothing concept but like FULL SWEET TO DARK PERSONALITY.

Wanna hear?

So basically child reader is like cute and innocent at first sight but IS A TOTAL DEMON, Having a very dark sense of humor, Sometimes out of nowhere walk up to someone of the gang and threaten to gouge out their eyes while they sleep, they are always with an cute expression but turns out that they like to cause chaos and havoc just like Jax but in a more creepy way.

For example, SOMEHOW reader is caught hanging from the ceilling scaring the fuck out of gangle just because its fun. Or staying in the dark waiting for someone so they can jumpscare them.

Basically child reader uses their cute-kid as an advantage to scare others off.

TADC x child!reader who is a menace! (platonic)

wasnt quite sure what to title this so!! some segments may be shorter than others since im still trying to get a hand of writing/coming up with ideas for certain characters (cough cough gangle) (i love her sm but shes so hard for me to write idk why) hope you enjoy! majority of this post is just me tormenting the cast TToTT

CAINE:

oh my god you kind of remind him of bubble but more... flkmddlvm

makes a time out rule when you keep making threats to the other circus members, that behavior is not family friendly!

he might even consider trying to go into the code and censoring your common phrases as well as some other words, if he has the capabilities for that

still tries to be a dad to you, though, wants to be a good role model and guide you in the right direction for the sake of everyone else

the first time you say something... morbid to him he just

slack jawed, stares at you before shaking himself back to reality and just

bro is astonished he was not ready to hear that today, let alone hear it from a small child

POMNI:

you know how in the other post with a child!reader i mention that pomni is vaguely uncomfortable around kids since she knows they can dish out some real cruelty

take this idea and multiply it by 10x

actually looks like that one sad spongebob meme with the big eyes and tear when shes put in charge of keeping an eye on you during an in house adventure

meek attempt to get you to behave

not much to say here imo, since its like an amped up version of the last post :O

JAX:

makes a joke about how youre already entering your edgy phase, he now has to watch his back lest some of his digital fur be shaved off

fear does not come close to describing how he feels when he discovers that you somehow found keys to some peoples rooms. he hopes you dont have a key to his room

and he thought he was hot shit, but no some random kid makes him fear the consequences of his actions

is this his punishment for his constant bullshit? what did he do in particular to deserve this?

instinctively looks up at the ceiling when he enters a room to make sure youre not about to drop on him

congrats, youve instilled fear into the funny rabbit

RAGATHA:

the 'nightmare kid' thing some babysitters go through at least once in their life, but instead of tantrums and such its just you talking about how you sometimes tear apart the dolls that came with your room. to the doll person

very uncomfortable by a lot of the stuff you casually say, even more so because its coming from a kid. though i think she would be uncomfortably be talk like that in general

SWEARS that one day shes going to blink and youll suddenly be right next to her or within her proximity

like on one hand she wants to try to guide you to be less dark, like caine, but i think she would need someone to back her up because she cannot get the image of the torn up dolls out of her head

KINGER:

poor man

like even if the things you said were empty threats, he would be scared shitless

if he isnt already in his fort, hes retreating to it the second he sees you around

kind of funny since kinger is in his late late 40s and youre a kid and hes terrified of you

anyways

less of a discomfort thing and more so scared that youre going to go through with the things you say

he walked into the common area one day and saw you literally crawling across the walls, he was with gangle when he saw it. you see his irises of his eyes shrink

doesnt even bother going to his fort, which is under where you currently are

he just

slowly

backs away, he can find refuge in his room... unless you have a key to his room

ZOOBLE:

less discomfort more annoyance with zooble, i think that while she would find it funny when a kid swears she finds people talking like that to be cringe; kid or not

the only one who isnt really scared of you. sure you threaten to disassemble them constantly and hide their pieces across the grounds to assure they can never be whole again, but they're just internally cringing while you try to make them turn away

in a weird way you two create an odd dynamic where you just go on and zooble just halfway listens, you kinda just talk at them

like while caine tries to be your dad, and ragatha tries to be.. something.. zooble is like a weird 'friend'

probably has the most potential to become a friend and get you to chill, but thats just based on my experience

like if its an attention/reaction thing, zooble isnt going to give it to you, which kind of. ruins the point of it for you, and you just

stop, or at least tone it down over time

or maybe thats just me seeing zooble having the potential to be an older sibling figure

GANGLE:

the gif is gangle when you get your hands on her

i understand that she cries easily, but like, you have probably made her cry at least once either on accident or on purpose

i think shes one of the few characters out of the cast who would probably start avoiding you for the sake of her emotional state, but she would feel bad about it since at the end of the day you're a kid

refuses to go anywhere near you when her comedy mask is broken, because otherwise shes a glum mess

you know how in poppee the performer, kedamono's mask sometimes just. pops off when he gets scared or surprised (well it happens regardless of expression/mood but yk)

gangle does that when she sees you LITERALLY CRAWLING ON THE WALLS LIKE A BUG

how are you even doing that

she doesnt wanna know, actually

"imma tie you up double knotted style" *high pitched crying*

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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spacexseven · 1 year

Note

would demon dazai n chuuya ever join forces and share a darling? i imagine itd be a huge mess if they both took interest in the same darling so im curious if you think theyd be able to share or if all hell breaks loose once they find out theyre going after the same person :3c

love this au, ure doing a great job ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ

hello user teethsies!! its always nice to hear from u huehue ^^ for more demon bsd content, check out the #demon au 🐟 tag!

cw: yandere characters + themes, violence

according to your very reliable source, the ritual was only supposed to summon one (1) demon.

but inhabiting your space now was not one, but two demons.

you tried to calm yourself down first before either of them could fully realize what had happened. maybe they were a package deal—unable to summon one without the other tagging alone, and you could ask them nicely to go back so you could summon the one you wanted. or maybe it didn't matter. the reason why you wanted to summon a demon didn't change just because there were two now, anyway, so as long as they were bound to you (at least, that was what was supposed to happen), you could make them do your bidding and promise to send them back right after.

but of course, none of that happened. for starters, your new housemates abhorred each other, and your so-called binding had no effect on them. it seemed you had, instead of summoning a particular demon, opened up a portal of some sort that the two happened to come across, which meant that you held no power over them.

to make it all worse, they were both completely deranged.

you're not sure what you were expecting from a demon, but it was foolish of you to think they didn't deal in trickery and torment. dazai was a master in both, somehow able to even make an invitation to stay in his torture chamber enticing (until you, fortunately, snapped out of it and realized just what that would entail). chuuya, though he never threatened you, had a permanent sneer on his face, and from the little conversation you overheard between him and dazai, was also no stranger to violent, cruel tactics.

it didn't matter why you wanted to summon them. dazai finds it silly anyway, whether it was for revenge or curiosity, the fact that you believed you could do such a thing and still be alive by the end of it was almost cute, and chuuya had made sure you knew how angry he was that you thought you could boss him around. regardless, they were here now, and...they were refusing to leave.

in retrospect, it was quite obvious when they were starting to take interest in you. dazai had always been a little too interested in you, apart from studying your clipped nails, which were completely different from his own claw-like ones, and constantly pointing out how small and human you looked, dazai found everything about you entertaining. he especially liked to make you frustrated, turning off your computer in the middle of your game, mixing salt into your sugar, hiding away your phone—little things that ruined your day,

chuuya, on the other hand, was a little harder to figure out. he seemed to hold a grudge against you, but there were times where he'd be almost...nice. after a particularly rough day or a night where you couldn't sleep thanks to someone deciding to also sleep right on top of you, you'd wake up to see your favorite drink waiting for you and all of dazai's usual tricks sorted out in advance. of course, he wasn't completely innocent. he had his own fair share of tricks, though never as bad as dazai's. chuuya was also a lot more familiar with the human world, and provided surprisingly good advice when you needed it.

the problem with the whole arrangement is that dazai cannot share anything, let alone his new human toy. he's suffocatingly possessive, and painfully competitive, constantly wanting you to spend more time with him and be nicer to him and smile more at him and—it went on. once he realizes that chuuya's warming up to you, he immediately starts plotting for damage control. he tries to send chuuya back and convince you that chuuya was only going to hurt you. while chuuya isn't opposed to the idea, dazai's hostility on spurs him on. having the two of you like the same darling will only end up in a lot of fighting.

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harmonysanreads · 1 year

Text

Imagine... yandere!vampire!al haitham because this mv's been tormenting me with brainrot for MONTHS and I need to talk about it — and you know what? Let's make it modern-ish mafia au as well because yes.

cw(s): yandere, stalking, mentions of blood and murder, mild gore at the end. proceed with caution.

art credit↬MiotaWorks on twitter.

「 au masterlist 」

In the surface, what appears to be the quaint and picturesque city of Teyvat, betrays its proclaimed perfection every time the sky rolls its curtain of stars, and Alhaitham was better acquainted with this change in appearance than his own kin.

That's not to say people of the daylight are completely ignorant though, there are always whispers and mutters of the undead who rule the night, traversing and hunting for unfortunate preys — and such stories usually get dismissed as mere fantasy. Therefore, the human kind's own fears serve as effortless camouflage for Alhaitham, he cannot even think of it as anything more as the humor in the stories lost their tincture decades ago.

Contrary to popular human belief, he and his kind are much more sophisticated, powerful (of course) and tasteful in their way of living. If they were not, the little tale-weaving populace would've been wiped off long ago. It's only due to the lower ranks' occasional immaturity do such ridiculous rumours even spread. Alhaitham digresses, after all, one of the most disappointing realization of his existence was that not everything will be to his preference. He wouldn't deny that some parts of their fantasies are correct and by which he ascertains the part where you shouldn't be loitering in the streets at the dead of the night, not in fear of the inhuman creatures solely, oh dear no, but also because of the monsters amongst the humankind.

That being said, Alhaitham would say he had been living a ‘fairly descent’ existence thus far. His preferred position in the Vampire Lords' ranks (high, but not so high for him to be swarmed with expectations) with a handsome wage and perhaps a little-too-vacant place (not to worry for he fills it regularly with books... Or tries to) to rest. Sure, there were some loses that may have altered his perception of life here and there but he's all good. Life was great for Alhaitham, until, a particular mission would challenge his peace.

He had been a little confused then, for, disposing of troublesome individuals was Cyno's line of work but by whatever came upon the Vampire Lords that day, he was chosen for this certain job. Alhaitham may not be a soldier but he has his ways to deal with people as well, it's just that he'd rather not dirty his hands unless absolutely necessary. What the vampire failed to comprehend was why an ordinary citizen should be held accountable for someone else's crimes. This bemusement is further amplified upon his first encounter with you ; it was the person who was actually responsible for crimes against the Vampire Lords' funeral and lo and behold, you're the only living relative of said person, who, Alhaitham was ordered to get rid off.

Still, for the sake of the mission, he decided to approach and ignite a casual conversation with you and be done with the job in the spur of that moment. After all, the quicker he gets this done, the quicker he could get back to resuming where he left of in his book. He did get to return to his book at the end albeit, half-lost, an endearing conversation to look back to, the failure of being unable to inflict a single scratch on you and one single, innocent parting comment from you echoing in his head.

You'd look great in red.

From then on, instances of him watching (waiting for an opportunity to strike) you kept on spiraling into sweet little encounters where the outcome was always his knife left dry and maybe, although he'd not admit, a strange warmth tingling in his unbeating heart which he was sure he'd lost long, long ago. Alright, looks like a head-on approach is vastly ineffective in this scenario, time for a change of strategy — so he opted to take your life at the dead of the night where you'd be the most defenseless.

Alhaitham was certain this would work, this had to work. Fast forward to a couple of months, he ponders while wiping his hands from the residue scarlet ; utterly utterly defeated by a mere mortal who'd done nothing yet still managed to give him the biggest frustration of the century. Turns out, every night where he creeped through your window with the determination to kill would either 1. turn into him losing track of the time distracted by your peaceful visage and having to leave at the cues of dawn 2. being distracted by the surroundings because, oh, how your home reminded him of his ; empty and lonely — how you reminded him of himself and with the amount of times he'd opted to take your life but instead found more reason not to made it seem as if.. as if the universe itself was beckoning you to be together.

What nonsense. Alhaitham at first dismissed it with fervour, much more intent on finding the logical cause. But as weeks turned into months and the deadline grew nearer, the tickles of affections turned into vicious thorns that constantly jabbed at his dead heart and manifested in the form of yet again another body discarded — he became more and more unsure of how to rationalize this situation.

Alhaitham was more than a little confused now, if the Vampire Lords' desparation to wipe your existence was anything to go by ; sending lower ranked and burdensomely ambitious agents behind his back even so. Not like Alhaitham allowed them to harm even a strand of your hair, but, he certainly found himself angry to an extent. You were his target, his prey, so sending interferences pricked his pride. It also doesn't help that he'd managed to find nothing to charge you guilty ; from the files the Mafia had, from direct observations, from ravaging your house at night—nothing, absolutely nothing. You appeared as innocent as a newborn child, unlike your relative. While Alhaitham is well aware that debts to the Vampire Mafia do tend to fall on the person's closest after passing, he really, logically, does not see any reason to punish you.

So the work was procrastinated, anyone who came in between simply removed and before long, your appointed murderer became your protector. All the while his brilliant mind kept on searching for solutions, solutions to save you from their clutches as he, yet again, drinks in your serene face instead, resisting the urge to sink his fangs on your supple skin. He'd been inattentive to his state of mind although, which continued to rot in obsession and twisted logic.

All it took for him to finally snap was the next (and last) agent sent your way.

Another rookie with more ambition and arrogance than wit, though what differed him from the previous brainless brutes was his approach ; the creature had attempted to use your loneliness against you and worm his way into your heart to rip it from the inside, smooth-talking, faux comforting. You'd fallen to the trap to a degree too and it made Alhaitham feel displeased in all forms possible. He should've ended the nuisance ages ago but he won't deny that this is definitely better.

As Alhaitham predicted, the fool decided to finally lure you to a secluded crevice of the city, deep into the night and then, jump at your defenseless form. You could only watch quivering as he was yanked with incredible force and smashed, smashed, smashed against the pavement with inhuman strength til he was nothing but a mess of ribs, grinded bones and splatter of blood.

Oh, Alhaitham hadn't felt this much joy in a while. Turning to glance at your petrified form on the pavement, the absolutely mortified look flashing through your eyes.. the solution to the months long dillema finally came. A step forward, you flinch violently, too tired to beg for your life. The vampire crouches to your level, his manic eyes pinning you to your place.

“Sshh, I won't hurt you.”

You hadn't even felt the tears starting to cascade down your cheek until his blood-drenched hand went to wipe them away, cradling your face with a gentleness that mocked his previous aggression. The Vampire Lords had told him to ‘get rid of you’... no one specified he'd have to kill you to get rid of you from their gazes though.

The monster before you painfully squeezes your cheeks together, only a fraction of the insanity swirling through his head made apparent by the action. All his crazed whispers of affection fall on deaf ears, he swears he'll never allow anyone or anything to hurt you, take you away but all you can think of is who'll save you from him.

You'd said that he'd look great in red, but God, not this much red.

plot twist : the vampire lords were just bored and decided to play matchmaker ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

any brainrot/ideas stemmed from this au is warmly, cordially welcomed in my asks

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