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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 months

Note

Can Jay read me to sleep pls? Family holidays mean I need comfort

Same. This fucking blows. Here's not that, but some Jason anyway.

"Stephanie," Dick said taking a head count of the assembled ladies in the party, "where is Y/N? We seem to be missing one particularly charming beauty-"

"Is she not-" Stephanie looked around the crush and bit her lip, "Oh dear."

Dick traded looks with Tim as Cass glanced at Jason who's Jaw had tensed as he scanned the crowd. "What happened?"

"She must have stepped away for a moment. She said she wasn't feeling well and Miss Vivian and Mr. Graham- you know how very proud they are of their library-"

Jason felt his heart kick up a notch. The Library. Right next to the room where a bunch of lecherous old fools and idiotic young dandies would be drowning their common sense and their manners at the gaming tables with appalling amounts of alcohol. And you were by yourself?

That would never do. Before he could think, or even grab one of his sisters to drag with him, he's gone. Not entirely sure how or why he feels like you need to be protected but. Hell if he's going to let some old codger ruin you and then make you out to be a scheming little harlot.

He wound his way up the stairs and through the hall, forcing himself not to run. But the relief that washed over him when he realized you were still alone- it was short-lived.

"Y/N?" he called softly. The room was dim but for a the moon and the streetlamp's light coming through the window. "Are you-"

"I'm quite alright, I just- I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I'll rejoin the party in a moment."

Jason edged closer the the sound of your voice, leaving the door ajar and took a deep breath. You didn't sound alright. You sounded desperately unhappy. And it needled. "Jason," he corrected, gently.

"I-I don't think-"

"I think," he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light as he worked toward your voice, "That my sisters will never stop scolding me if I don't give you permission to just call me Jason." You'd tucked yourself in a dark little corner, obviously intending to have a little cry, a sulk, or maybe just... a moment's peace but. He couldn't feel bad about interrupting you.

Not when you looked so much like a painting. Three weeks since he'd seen you. And all he could think about was how lovely you would look with a garnet necklace. And some less gentlemanly part of his brain added 'and nothing else'. Making him grateful for the darkness in the room so you couldn't see him blush.

"If you're sure-"

"Quite sure," he said, kneeling in front of your chair and offering a fresh handkerchief. "Don't cry, wildflower," he said, "Whatever it is-"

"It seems like every time we talk all I do is cry or faint," you murmur.

"Sometimes you make very funny jokes," he said. "Did someone ruin your slippers? Do I need to send Stephanie after them?"

"No I-" You break off and shake your head, "It's not serious. I shouldn't trouble you with it I just. I guess I'm being foolish-"

Before he could stop himself Jason gripped your free hand and bent his head to kiss it, "If you were being foolish you'd be crying in front of everyone and causing a scene," he said. He didn't add that you were foolish to be alone. Not now. Not when he was so close and the room was so quiet you hardly needed to do more than whisper. "Tell me?"

"I-it's going to sound so terrible."

"I promise it won't." Last night he'd tracked a murder suspect. And the night before he'd had to question a grieving widow.

"I- my Aunt and Uncle have decided that I'm to pay them back for my room and board. Which means that at the end of this Season I'll have no money and I just- what else is there?"

And when you start to cry in earnest, hiding your face in your hands, trying to make yourself smaller for comfort, Jason feels his heart twist. "Don't cry," he pleaded. "What else is there? Wildflower-" He stopped and pulled your hands from your face, tilting your chin up carefully and as he wiped your face, he couldn;t help it.

The air was thick. So heavy and full of the scent of your perfume that if he didn't do something- anything- Before he knew it his lips were claiming yours.

Not as tenderly as he wanted. Or as chastely. But when you squeak in surprise and then... melt. He can't stop. He just can't. You taste exactly as good as you smell. And your lips- like ripe, sweet fruit. All he can do is keep going.

And it's not untl he hears a crash that anything else registers at all.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #gaslamp!Au

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citrinesparkles · 9 months

Text

cold hands

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 789 words. notes: i started this in december i swear it was seasonally appropriate at the time warnings: n/a

he scooped your hands into his own, cupping them together and bringing them to his face smoothly.

he caught your eye with a small smirk. you knew him well enough to know he wasn't really smug- he was looking for your reaction, a silent is this okay wrapped up in his confident expression. the large, colorful lights strung across the shop front you had stopped in front of were reflected in his eyes, but he was focused entirely on you.

you slipped your thumb out of his hold and ran it over his own.

jason took it for the invitation it was and exhaled heavily over your frigid fingers, looking down to them.

you, though? you kept your gaze right where it was.

he was beautiful, you thought. a strong jaw and handful of faded scars were contrasted by the softness of his eyes, his red (garnet, you remembered him saying with a little self-aware grin, not red- that was a work color, and you weren't work) knit hat bringing out the green in them. he was bathed in an orangey-pink from the décor behind you, and you almost wanted to pull a hand back to take a picture.

almost.

"i'm buying you some damn gloves," he muttered without heat, laughter buried in his tone as he gently massaged your fingers.

"and put my personal hand warmer out of a job?"

"he's creative. he'll find another one."

you let out a small huff of laughter, the sound turning to fog between the two of you. you pulled your hands out of his grasp- earning a raised eyebrow- and pushed forward to take hold of the front of his jacket, gently pulling him into kissing range.

as always, he adapted almost instantly. "see?" he asked quietly, his palms finding your hips. "a new job opened up pretty quick."

"shut up," you mumbled fondly, pressing your lips to his.

the warmth in your chest absolutely erupted, the sweet, familiar feeling of his lips- of his presence- making your heart and mind go the same sugar-sweet shade of pink.

"i love you," you pulled back to whisper firmly, grip tightening on his jacket just to give some of the oomph in your veins somewhere to go.

you felt his chuckle under your fists and against your lips, like the bassline of your favorite song with the dial all the way up, rattling through the floor and into your ribs and threatening to turn you giddy. "i think that means i'm doing alright at my new job."

"you're doing wonderfully at your new job."

not much would be worth opening your eyes from such a spell, but you found that his smile made the list: crooked and fond and beautiful and somehow it was aimed at you.

"think i can clock in for another shift?" he asked lowly, playfully, sending another wave of butterflies through your system. they left quickly, replaced by a feeling of belonging, of home, of peace.

"yes," you answered simply, trying (and failing, judging by his little laugh) to keep your eagerness under control. "you should."

so he kissed you again, holding you close. sheltering you from the chill of gotham in the dead of winter. reflecting warm lights onto you and chasing shadows away. turning every beautiful, poetic thought you'd ever had about him into something literal and visible and tangible and not having a single clue.

so he kissed you again, basking in the affection in your eyes and letting it warm him straight to his bones. begging his mind to save the image of you bathed in orange and pink and magic, looking at him like he was even close to that kind of beautiful, tugging him towards you like there was nowhere else on the planet you'd rather he be.

and he tried to hold you as softly as you deserved, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw and tilt your head slightly and cherishing the way you immediately, confidently leaned into his touch like you trusted him to keep you upright.

it felt like someone cracked a glowstick where his heart should be.

no- that was too vivid, too harsh. this was like a candle, warm and steady and breathing and alive. this was something to look to in the dim and the dreary, something by which he could read; something to warm his hands over, something to turn to when the storms rolled through and the power failed and left him in the dark.

you were something to turn to in the dark.

he decided, then and there, pressed against your coat and your lips and your warmth, that you were getting the nicest gloves he could get his hands on.

#citrine writes #<- im so rusty thats not even a suggested tag anymore #anyway. it's like 80 degrees here <3 this makes literally no sense but that is okay!#i swear i tried Several other drafts but nothing was clicking tonight and i needed to write or i think i woulda gone batshit #its called a coping mechanism and sometimes you gotta turn your mind's clock back 6 months to give all your feelings a place to go.#so. bon appetit i suppose #jason todd #dc #imagines #jason todd imagine #x reader #dc imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #gn reader

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

Text

cw: talks of having kids

Bakugou lays sprawled out on your bed as you flitter around the room, moving from your closet to your dresser and back in a hurry of movements. You’re doing a bit of spring cleaning (yes, even in the winter), and Bakugou decided to come over and help, even though he’s just been laying around the whole time.

He had a rough patrol yesterday, even sports a few bruises on his ribs, so you let him take it easy, throwing him one of your old pink scarf hat combos with the little bunny ears on top. You don’t expect him to wear it, but the image of him laying against your bed with the floppy ears on top of his head makes you smile anyway.

You go back to your drawer, pulling everything out in order to throw some stuff away and reorganize the remaining things. At the bottom of the drawer though, do you find some old clothes when you were a baby. It’s been here for years now, after your parents gifted them to you, just in case you’d wanna use them for your future kids. It’s just collecting dust in the bottom of your drawer though, honestly, and you pull the tiny little purple and white checkered onesie out, examining it and the little bonnet underneath with a small frown.

“Who the hell is that for? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t fitting your big ass head.” You hear Bakugou call from your bed, your head whipping around to face him and his cheesy little grin. You narrow your eyes and poke your tongue out at him, throwing him the little combo as you turn to get the rest of the baby clothes out.

“Says the one whose head almost tore his mothers cooter in half during birth.” Thank you Mistuki for the information, you think to yourself, smiling an evil little smile that Bakugou frowns softly at.

“And it’s my old baby clothes. My folks gave it to me when I moved out, said I could use it for my own future gremlins.” You smile when you pick up the little yellow booties in your dresser, another little bonnet with a tie underneath the chin, and a pair of shorts that were entirely too cute and tiny. “Think I’m gonna throw it out, though.”

“Why would you do that?” Bakugou asks quietly, suddenly behind you, his chest against your back as he gently plucks the shorts from your hands to examine them closer. You look at him from over your shoulder, at the soft look that falls on his face, how his rough thumb rubs over the still soft material in his hands, how his eyebrows lose their crease and his mouth tilts up just so in the corners.

“We’re not having kids any time soon,” you say, your voice tacking on a silent ‘right?’ at the end of it. Bakugou doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he blinks down at you, looking so ridiculously cute in your pink hat, holding your baby clothes. You hand him the booties in his other hand and he takes them, so gentle, with such care, it makes your stomach do somersaults.

“Maybe we should talk more about that.” He whispers softly, looking at you from under his lashes, his garnet eyes searching your own. You nod though, stroking gently at the shorts he still holds with tender care, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” you mutter, leaning up to press your mouth against his own. “Maybe we should.”

#could u tell that i was deep cleaning in the winter and found some old baby clothes in a drawer lol #this is so specific leave me alone #but also the imagery of Bakugou wearing the clothes you’re throwing out for the fun of it :(#puts on your too small mittens and brightly colored hats and even tries on your old sweaters just to hear you laugh when he can’t fit it #over his big ass head and arms #I’m gonna sob such an ugly sob #okay I’m done I just love him so much #so many grand emotions #wait i think I’m gonna write something for touya tonight too gimme a minute 🏃‍♂️#before this sleep medicine knocks me out cold on my ass #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬

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deathmetalangel · 1 year

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Hi!

A friend of mine (aka that-kid-FromThePlayground) told me that you write for Steven Universe characters amazingly! So I'm here to request smth if that's okay ^^

What about platonic headcanons for Rose Quartz, Pearl, Rubi, Saphire and Garnet (sepparetly if it's possible) with an early teenager fem!pink pearl!reader (in between 11 and 14) who was abused by her owner and the gems didn't know that.

And one day she just breaks something and by seing the gem's disapointed or mad face she just breaks and falls to her knees asking for forgivenes and to not be punished in a very scared tone of voice.

(Yeah, my friend and I love angst as you can see '^^, mostly because it's our coping mecanism, and feel free to delete or ignore this ask if you're tired of angsty request)

GLIMPSES OF HER PAST (GEMS X F!READER/PLATONIC)

warnings: ptsd, mentions of abuse, i kinda filled this with my mommy issues (meh kinda but not really), mentions of “death”

reader was a gem they found poofed and trapped in some artifact and steven (or rose) freed her so now she lives with the gems, however she still hasn’t mentioned her past

sorry about the wait! i was just tying up some loose ends :/ but i’m back and better than ever hahaha

ROSE QUARTZ

- rose never pried into y/n’s past much she understood that as a pearl she was most likely unable to speak of her past owner as well

- so seeing her cowering on her knees in front of her just wrecked her

- as a diamond she was used to gems kneeling before her begging for their gems to be spared, but this was just on another level

- rose wasn’t even mad about it which is what surprised her the most

- while tears fall down y/n’s face rose just gently pulls her into a hug

- “shh. it’s okay. i won’t let anything happen to you, i promise.”

- rose had an inking about the true horrors of y/n’s last. she’d never speak to her about them in fear of upsetting the young gem

- however rose would protect her with everything she had

PEARL

- the shattering sound had interrupted her very long winded rant about sword technique

- when her head whipped around to see y/n she is quickly alerted before she even gets the chance to scold the gem

- y/n was shaking in her place before dropping to her knees and begging pearl for forgiveness

- pearl freezes not exactly knowing what to do

- “y/n, it’s just a vase.”

- when she hears her beg not to get shattered she stops in her tracks

- pearl lowers herself to the crying gems level and softens her face

- “i’m not mad. i promise. you’re okay y/n. everything is okay.”

- she almost wanted to cry seeing how genuinely terrified y/n was

- helps y/n clean up while gently reprimanding and comforting her

RUBY

- hotheaded as ever the shattering of glass caught ruby’s attention

- “just perfect! another thing i have to clean up!”

- she was already angry from a bad mission so her snapping was just her blowing off steam

- ruby quickly shuts up when she notices her crying softly

- y/n holds her gem defensively while begging not to get shattered

- ruby quickly burns out and starts to apologize

- “wha-what? no! i would never do that. i’m so sorry y/n. i was just overreacting!”

- tries her best to get y/n to calm down and it eventually works

- “geez kid what happened to you.”

SAPPHIRE

- despite how stoic she normally is y/n was still terrified of the gems still face

- the moment the vase breaks and sapphire turns around y/n immediately starts to panic

- breaks down in front of sapphire begging her not to get mad at her

- sapphire recoils slightly not seeing her react like that

- “y/n i had already foreseen it. it was an accident. i know that.”

- her reassurance does little for the gem who lets up on her crying only slightly

- sapphire tries to handle it as best she can without showing how worried she really was

- “i promise i’d never hurt you y/n. no one here would, but can you please tell me what happened to you before we found you?”

GARNET

- to say garnet didn't already for see the entire thing happening would be a lie

- yet she still couldn’t exactly find the right path to choose

- it wasn’t until the shattering of glass caught her attention

- y/n was already freaking out before she even said anything

- fat tears start to roll down her face as she begins to cry for mercy

- garnet simply walks forward and places her hand in her shoulder which freaks her out more and she cries harder

- “it is okay y/n. it was an inevitable, and mostly my mistake for not preventing it. please try and calm down.”

- garnet sits down on the floor with the crying gem and gently takes her hands

- “y/n please relax. you’re okay, i would never hurt you. and if you ever assumed i would i’m sorry for giving you that impression. just take a moment to breathe. i’m with you.”

- the motherly presence and love garnet had for the girl was so obvious and it did help her calm down

- garnet goes to get donuts with her :3

#deathmetalangel #steven universe x reader #crystal gems x reader #garnet x reader #pearl x reader #rose quartz x reader #ruby x reader #sapphire x reader #garnet #crystal gems imagine #steven universe imagines

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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How did Cinnabar and Iggy discuss their feelings for reader?? Did they fall for them at the same time or separately and if so who fell first?

(Why are they like this I love them so much...)

Cinnabar sits alone in the kitchen. Leaving their shared bedroom to return to his study, her spouse sneaks a kiss to her cheek in passing. She touches the cool mark; skin frozen beneath its curve. Quiet as a ghost, she'd given him a nickname appropriate to his silent approach and icy demeanor when they moved in together. Her sweet Boo. Cold as his skin and heart may be, he never failed to make it beat twice as face when he walked in the room. Finding love wasn't easy for a gal made out of sugar and dough, but she found it close to home with the only person sweeter than her. With love so sweet, falling in love with someone else would give her cavities - and tear her heart in two.

Cinnabar loves her husband. She falls in love with him more everyday like that first bite of your favorite pie, but something's changed. There was new vacancy in her heart - a place made home by their neighbor next door. She never imagined to look at another person the same way she did her Izzy, but that smile. The brief wave her way whenever their eyes met. Her chest burned so much when she stared at them for too long that it felt like she was overbaked from the flames. These were all things she felt before and continued to. For her husband. For them. She believed she could write it all off as a harmless crush - till the day their lips crossed indirectly from the fork they left behind.

She had to tell him. Beyond her horrible mistake, Cinnabar would never act on their feelings for the other person. She loved and treasured her life with Iggy more than anything in the whole world. Almost anything...

Lifting her face, Cinnabar walks to the study door. She knock once, then twice - easing the door open when that sultry voice tells her to come in. Izzy sits alone at his desk, switching a cube of ice between his cheek and jaws as he studies the plastic bench in his hands.

"Hun?"

"I'm listening, Dear. Speaking of which, you came just in time. Do you remember if the benches at that park we went to for our third date were cherry red? I specifically recall them being maroon."

His voices drive another nail into her chest. "I think they were garnet... Hun, I have something I need to tell you."

Izzy tears off his glasses and rubs his face against his hands. "I knew I should've have trusted the references from their site. Now I'll have to return to the store.." Sighing, he turns to face Cinnabar. "Forgive me, dear - between this and them sending me oak trees instead of birch this project has drained me entirely. Sit down. Tell me what troubles you."

Cinnabar sits at the window. Izzy wheels his chair over to her, but she doesn't take his hand. She couldn't.

"Before... before I say anything, I need you to know you mean the world to me."

Izzy slowly nods, milky sweat beading his pale cheeks. "As do you. What's going on, Cinnabar?"

She breaths, twitchy hands rested in her lap. "I... think might have feelings Y/n. Our neighbor that returned the pan the other day? Something about them I just.. I"

Cinnabar reaches for her husband as he leans back in his seat. His expression is unreadable.

"But I still love you! You both mean so much to me, and I don't want to lose either of you because of this. That's why I'm telling you this. I would never go back on our promises, but I can't rest another day if I don't tell you how deep these feelings go. It isn't just a crush, Izz. They make me laugh, they make me smile. They make me feel alive... Just like you."

Izzy adjusts his glasses and removes her hands from his arm. Using the wall to propel himself backwards, he swings back to his desk and unhooks the necklace from around his neck. From the locket containing their wedding photos he takes a small key and unlocks the safe beneath its desk. He pulls out a book and hands it to her. Flipping through the pages, her first tear falls.

"It started as another hobby. The sun is my natural enemy.. but I cannot live my life in fear. Birdwatching felt like the best start. I wouldn't have to leave home, and I had just bought a new roll of film at the time. I was only trying to get a picture of a raven beside their window, but there they were.

Page after page, pictures of birds, Cinnabar, and that very same neighbor were framed with silver lace. As the pages went on, backgrounds were cut out and their photos were stitches on to copies of happy couple together. The lady page holds only one photo. A picture of the neighbor and Cinnabar at the table as she fed them her prized cinnamon rolls- a heart drawn over them both with blue ink. Izzy rubs a hand under his glasses as Cinnabar looks up at him.

"What... is this?"

"I'm not quite sure how it happened either. Their smile melts my heart. There's only one other person who's done that before. I have felt poorly for these feelings too and planer to burn this book someday, but now I see they only mean we're meant to be. You and I. Us and them. I love you, Cin. And I think that I'm in love with them too. You're not alone, nor will you ever be."

His chair cries from the added weight as Cinnabar throws herself at her husband. Arms around his neck and lips upon his, she kisses him over and over until her face is nearly covered in the softened cream of her frosty partner as he melts from her heat and his own flesh. He tries to hug her back, but she moves too sporadically for him to hold her properly. He rubs her back to soothe her cries instead.

"I love you, Hun. I love you, and I love Y/n - so much it hurts. I want to be with them. I want us to be a family. I want to go on picnics and take them to that music you love and make sure no one ever comes between the three of us. I feel so greedy, but I need you both."

"It's alright to feel that way, dear. We are creations in a world that was never meant for us. It's more than okay if we decide to be selfish for once and have what we desire. Someday, we'll be able to welcome them home and live the happy life we deserve, but for now.... Do you think they'd have any interest in visiting a hobby store with us?"

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere #female yandere #yandere fluff #yandere teratophilia #Iggy my oc #Cinnabar my oc

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xdreamers-asylumx · 7 months

Text

Unspoken Rule

Pairings: PM! Dazai Osamu X F! Reader

Callous remarks and sharp glares did nothing to deter you—cruelty was a love language you had become far too intimate with, and who better to indulge your little game than him? You despised his arrogance and he detested your mutiny. In the end, you were nothing more than two rabid dogs snarling at each other for dominance. A coy smile curved the side of your lips where they left a deep garnet stain on the collar of tonight's lover before linking arms as you made your way down a long stretch of hallway.

Your heels clacked noisily against the tiles leading to the grand doors sealing away the hum of music just beyond them. A party of sorts, you supposed. Dubbed an annual display of your organization's successes and luxury, in reality more of an excuse for Mori to show off Elise in her new dress. Tedious, but not entirely boring under the right circumstances.

"(Y/N)." One of the guards stationed outside the entrance acknowledged courteously. The other offered a forced nod—there was a prominent bead of sweat trickling down the dip of his temple as he remained resolute in keeping his eyes trained forward.

You rolled your eyes, reaching forward to seize the large man’s tie in a manicured hand. What was his name again…? Toru? Toshi? Tetsu?Perhaps it didn’t matter.

A sharp tug to his tie and he was brought down to near eye level. Your gaze flickered up to meet his through long wispy lashes, finally managing to break his seemingly unseeing stare. He swallowed thickly.

"Gentleman, really...” Suggestive fingertips trailed down his chest with a knowing smirk. He flinched. “No need to be so stiff."

A terribly misleading sentiment. One that the man draped across your arm didn't yet grasp the weight of nor even truly recognize; an unspoken rule. No one was permitted to touch you. No one save for one man—and anybody who disobeyed was swiftly dealt with.

The guard who wasn’t currently ensnared by your deceptively soft grasp shot your guest a quick, pitying glance. He wouldn’t dare do more than that. Instead, he asked, “Who might this be accompanying you tonight, Miss?”

You paused in your ministrations, cutting a sideways look to the other guard. There was a palpable moment of silence that followed where nobody hazarded a breath before you quickly alleviated the tension with an airy giggle and a wave of the hand; effectively releasing the man from your hold. “Oh, this is Sato. Such a lovely man, isn’t he?”

The guard sighed, indulging your antics with a curt “yes, Miss” and proceeded to push open the doors, allowing you entrance. You blew him a kiss over your shoulder as you walked in.

Jeweled tapestries clung to the ornate walls in intervals between floor to ceiling windows overlooking Yokohama's starlit skyline. A glittering chandelier high overhead caught and reflected the moon's silver beams in fragments onto the polished marble floor below, already crowded with its buzzing patrons for the night—none other than the most integral members of the city's most notorious crime group. The port mafia.

You were the last to arrive.

Weaving your way through the many wine filled glasses wobbling precariously in evidently intoxicated guest and executive hands alike, you lead your faux-lover by the hand to the bar in the back corner of the ballroom. You weren't oblivious to the lustful stare he had locked on you from behind, though you feigned that you were. Despite his conventional good looks, he was boring and the idea of entertaining him more than you already had outside of your own twisted charade disillusioned you. All golden hair and shimmering blue eyes, he was gullible and easy to seduce.

The complete opposite of him.

Pulling yourself into a barstool, you requested a whiskey on the rocks for yourself and your companion. The bartender nodded and poured you your drink from one of the many glass bottles lined up along the shelves behind the bar. With glass now in hand, you swiveled in your seat, gaze dragging lazily over the other people chatting and milling about.

You brought your glass to your lips and stopped short. There, across the room sat languidly atop one of the plush couches scattered about the room, was none other than the man you had been searching for—and splayed across his lap was a woman in a satin dress attached to his neck. His eyes locked with yours. Dazai.

A smirk pulled your lips back over your teeth, a thinly veiled snarl. So the game of cat and mouse begins.

“(Y/N)? What are you looking at?” Sato inquired, head swivelling to try to find what had you so fixated.

You grabbed him by the front of his button-down without a word, drawing his attention back to yourself rather than give him the opportunity to locate the man across the room. Dismounting your seat at the bar, you sashayed your way to the middle of the floor, lover in tow, completely ignoring Dazai.

This, however, only provoked the man. His eyes followed you the entire way across the room, a bandaged hand pushing the woman on top of him aside. You could hear the indignant sounds of her protest as his gaze burned into the side of your face. Smile like the Devil himself, you finally looked his way again.

Dazai stood and began making his way to you in the crowd.

Eyes ablaze with a growing wrath, you spun on the blonde man behind you and pulled his body flush against your own, staring up at him through your half-lidded eyes as you did so. Seemingly pleased with the sudden attention, he wound his arms around your waist, hands wandering up the curve of your spine to tangle in the hairs that fell at the nape of your neck. You wondered, briefly, if he knew he was being used and simply didn't care.

Sato’s lips descended upon your own, melding your mouths together with an unpleasant force that you tolerated only to get a rise out of Dazai. Your eyes met with his over your lover's shoulder. His demeanor was calm, calculated. A fire ignited inside you.

Wasting no more time, Dazai strode over to the two of you just as you broke away from the kiss. He was there in an instant, mere inches away from Sato with a humourless grin stretching his lips.

"I believe you have something of mine."

The man you were just kissing turned around at the sound of Dazai's voice, confusion furrowing his brow—but Dazai wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at you. His eyes were nearly black now as he stared down at you, gaze raking over your body clad in that dress he liked so much.

"You truly are an arrogant man," you mused.

“Hey—“ Dazai side stepped Sato, much to the blonde man’s chagrin. He had no care for what Sato had to say.

Slender fingers caught a stray strand of hair dancing across your vision. Dazai’s dark eyes bore into yours as the pads of his thumb and forefinger toyed with the loose curl before winding it back into place behind your ear. "And you are an insufferable woman."

"What is going on—?” Before Sato could even finish his sentence, Dazai had produced a gun from beneath his jacket. Without adverting his eyes from your own, he pressed the barrel to the head of the man who accompanied you to the party. There was a threat in the thin press of his lips. A promise.

“Stop interrupting.”

You stared back defiantly with the same amount of hostility tensing every muscle in your frame. “Come now, Dazai,” you purred, stepping closer than any other person would dare to a man like him. “It’s quite unbecoming of you to be so rude to my guest—“

“What the hell?” Just then, Dazai’s own companion decided to chime in, apparently having sauntered over a few mere moments before.

You had almost forgotten she was in the room at all until she grabbed your shoulder and jerked you to face her. She glanced between the two of you with hurt in her eyes—she must have truly believed that she had won his affections.

You almost felt sorry for her.

"Dazai, what the hell?” She repeated. “Are you serious? You left me just to come flirt with this—“ she gestured towards you flippantly “—this random girl?”

Almost.

Your eyes narrowed. In one swift motion, you had untangled the dagger from where it held back your hair and pressed it to the woman's throat. "I don't remember inviting you into this conversation,” you stated, plainly. “And I don’t like sharing.”

She gasped, eyes flickering to Dazai for help, but he was too preoccupied gazing at you. “You’re both insane!”

The butterfly hilt glinted under the soft lights, the ruby embedded in the centre winking as if anticipating another kill. You pressed it closer to her throat.

Suddenly, a loud theatric sigh rang through the room, alerting you to the silence that had overtaken it. “Come, children, must you always ruin my parties with your little charade?”

The voice was deep, amused, but there was an underlying edge to its tone. The sea of onlookers who had gathered around you began to part. Some, who were new to this fairly run of the mill debacle, were gawking—likely guests of other port mafia executives. Others, well acquainted with yours and Dazai’s tumultuous relationship, regarded the scene with tense fear. When the final person stepped back, none other than Mori himself emerged from the crowd.

“I think it’d be best if you and your…” he glanced between Sato at gunpoint and the woman currently pinned beneath your blade, “guests settled down. My dear Elise must be so frightened!” He wailed.

Elise, miraculously appearing by Mori’s side as if summoned by the man’s call, delivered a swift kick to his shin. “There you are!” She pouted. “I thought I asked you for cake!”

Mori glanced down at the young girl with adoration, apparently forgetting all about the situation he was attempting to diffuse. “Elise! I was just on my way to get you some, I swear! I just got a little sidetracked—“

Another kick to the shin. “Now!”

And with that, Elise was stomping away in the opposite direction. Mori stared after her, dejected.

“Yes, yes.” He sighed. His focus turned back to the both of you, renewed disapproval souring his face now that Elise was gone. “As you can see, I have my hands quite full with Elise. I really must insist you lower your weapons.” His eyes glowed dangerously. “You’re disturbing my guests.”

You straightened, allowing your dagger to fall to your side at the warning tone in Mori’s voice. The woman, who was all but a statue mere moments before, took this as her opportunity to advance on you, seemingly alight with a newfound fury. She had her hand raised as if to slap you, tears brimming in her eyes. You raised a brow in amusement.

Dazai was not so quick to oblige to Mori’s command. He never lowered his gun. And with a quick cock of the trigger, his index finger squeezed down.

Once.

Twice.

A final resounding bang followed by a cacophony of shrieks punctuated the thud of two bodies hitting the ground. Blood spattered your face.

Before Mori could react, your wrist was seized in a vice grip, fingers cold as ice digging into your pulse, and Dazai was heading towards the exit with you in tow. The room was frozen as you departed.

No words were exchanged as you were lead out of the building into the parking garage and began weaving through row upon row of flashy cars. You twisted in Dazai’s grip, trying to free yourself from his quick pace that had you stumbling behind in your heels. That was until you found yourself at a particularly expensive looking corvette. Sleek and black, windows tinted so dark that it was certainly not legal, and a jagged slash where you had keyed the driver’s side door in a fit of rage.

Dazai’s car.

He stopped suddenly, yanking you in front of him until he could trap your body between his car and his embrace.

“Belladonna…” he purred into your ear. “That was quite the stunt you pulled in there.”

His hands wandered over the curve of your waist, finding purchase in the loose silk around your hip and pulling you back tight to his chest. “Says the man with a purple bruise beneath his earlobe.” You growled.

A deep, sultry chuckle radiated from the man’s chest pressed firm behind you. “Now, now… there’s no need to be jealous, my love.”

Craning your neck to glare into those cruel, shadowed eyes you knew so well, you forcefully peeled yourself from his grasp and huffed. Despite the familiar flames growing hot in your belly, you removed yourself entirely from Dazai’s all encompassing heat to spin on him, jabbing a sharp nail into his chest. Dazai merely growled, eyelids lowering with lust as he gazed down upon your figure.

“I am not the jealous one here, Osamu—“ a deep groan escaped his lips at the sound of his name on your tongue, taking a calculated step closer to cage you further between him and the hood of his car, “—you are the one that shot my date.”

“The date you brought to get a rise out of me, (Y/N),” he whispered, bending to ghost his lips along the shell of your ear. “Lest we forget that you were the one who started this little game.”

His warm breath fanned over your neck making your knees wobble despite yourself. Bracing your hands on the hood of the car behind you, you turned your head away to avoid his now piercing gaze. “You participate just as freely, Dazai.” You growled. “Or was the lady you brought a mere coincidence?”

He chuckled, but did not dignify you with an answer which only riled you up further. Hands back on your waist, Dazai retreated from your neck to capture your gaze with his. Fingers like cold silk ghosted up your sides, along the swell of your breasts, the dip in your collarbones, all the way to the curve of your jaw where they stayed, finally forcing you to look up at him with a touch none too gentle.

The sharp sting of pain that ached through your neck at the abrupt pulling of your chin closer to his elicited a soft whimper, one that Dazai revelled in. It was only him who could see you like this. Submissive and meek. Eyes clouded with desire and a willingness to please. His nerves felt alight with fire as he slowly pressed the length of his lithe frame to your softer one.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he purred.

Your lips were a breath away, each letter enunciated by his tongue felt by the brush of his mouth ghosting over yours. You released a shuddering breath, resolve crumbling. He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and pulled away. You tried to reclaim the distance between the two of you with a quick move onto your toes, but Dazai was quicker. You whined, displeased.

“I’ll give you everything you desire in due time, Belladonna,” he promised, darkly. “But only if you say the words.”

Your teeth caught purchase in your lower lip, in turn dragging Dazai’s attention downwards. His own resolve was being shaken.

“Osamu,” you whispered.

A sharp breath slid between his clenched teeth. You grabbed him by the front of his suit jacket and yanked him down. The honeyed brown that began pooling in his irises had you entranced—but you wouldn’t cave to him so easily.

“I don’t belong to anybody.”

His lips crashed onto yours with bruising force, tipping your head back with thumbs pressed firmly into the underside of your jaw. Soft brown locks tickled your cheekbones as he dipped his head lower to deepen the kiss, parting your lips with an authority that had your body trembling. Tongues met, beginning a war for dominance, one that you knew you would lose but never seemed to mind.

Your fingers found purchase in the hair at the back of Dazai’s head, tangling and tightening until your knuckles were brushing against his scalp. It must have been painful, but Dazai only gasped quietly into your mouth and kissed you hungrily.

His teeth nipped at your already bruising lips, hands sliding down to squeeze at your throat until you were gasping for air and your eyes were glowing with lust. Dazai’s knee slid between you legs, pushing them apart and forcing your back down onto the hood of the car.

You stared up at him in the dim silver light of the moon straining to breach the darkness of the parking garage. His hair was mussed, bandages falling loose over his face, and blood blooming like a rose petal at the corner of his mouth where you bit just a little too hard. But as he knelt over you, unbuttoning his dress shirt torturously slow with eyes so dark and hungry you felt like you’d be swallowed whole… you could swear the angels above would weep at the sight of this devil’s beauty.

“You don’t think you’re mine, (Y/N)?” He said lowly. His hand trailed higher up your thigh until goosebumps were left in his wake and your dress was pooling around your waist. “I’ll make sure everybody else does.”

#dark era dazai #dazai #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai oneshot #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai

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doiefy · 4 months

Text

crimson watercolour // johnny seo

genre: body horror, biopunk, cyberpunk

member: just john lol sorry

warnings: coarse language (or not, I don’t really remember), blood, gore, self-mutilation (not mental health or self-harm related, it’s just a gory sci-fi plot point), barely proofread but I think it’s passable.

note: a spooky little piece i decided to do as i’m making massive changes to my ‘fight or flight’ series… partial spoilers but i don’t expect to be finishing the first fic any time soon, and i feel like it’s not for the tumblr demographic anyways LOL (ao3 here i come). sort of bloody and gory stuff ahead, you have been warned.

*****

MIDNIGHT IN THE WEST LANES OF THE QUARRY, wrapped tightly in the arms of sin and vice: Johnny had found himself in a gnarly predicament.

He slid to the ground spewing profanities, his backside meeting the metal of the door mere seconds after it had slammed shut. The entire thing shook beneath his weight, protesting further when he threw his head back against it. Blunt force hammering into his skull, pain burying deep into his head and racing down his spine like a current—just a precursor for a long, long night.

He did it again, to be sure, pitching backward until he heard a sickening thump. It hurt less now. Good. Then he brought the tin can back up to his lips and finished the rest of his drink, grimacing when he felt grains of sand on his tongue. Peering into the bottom of the now-empty can, he found jagged edges of metal soaked in a discoloured foam. A suspicious crimson stain sat at the bottom, as if the bartender—last seen suffering from the dryness of the Lanes and a badly-split lip—had spat in Johnny’s cup before filling it with lukewarm beer.

No matter, he thought, mustering a condescending sneer. They were no strangers to disease and illness on the streets of the Quarry, and he had a multitude of other issues to worry about: beginning with a group of men somewhere on the other side of the door, all hellbent on tearing him from limb to limb. Leraje had made good promise of carving his face into a gargoyle, if he ever got his hands on him.

Suppose Johnny would just have to do it himself, first.

His reflection awaited him in the bathroom mirror, rough and fatigued, somewhat of a hazy memory. Not quite him. Not perfect, hardly recognizable to most. A softer jawline and heart-shaped face that certainly made him feel foreign in his own body. His eyes were a little meaner than he remembered, bright red and angular like a pair of garnets. His lips were drawn back in a sharp scowl, not entirely to his liking. But it was effective enough around these parts, able to fit him perfectly into the crowd of lowlife party-goers and spiteful drunks.

Working quickly, he slipped out of his jacket and tossed it onto the counter. His shirt followed, pulled over his head in one smooth motion and discarded haphazardly. He debated, for just a second, whether it would be necessary to carve the ink out of his shoulder. For as long as he’d been in hiding, it was the one part of him left recognizable, never altered, never defaced.

“Short, scrawny, black-haired, blue-eyed. Bird tattoo on his arm.”

“Tall-ish, muscular. Black hair. Swallow tattooed on his left shoulder.”

For someone they wanted to kill so badly, they could never paint the right picture.

“He’s got a cute little birdie on his shoulder,” Jungwoo had once said—directly to Johnny’s face, completely unaware that his bounty was right in front of him. “Seen anyone like that recently?”

“No,” Johnny had responded with a snide curl of his lip. He’d tossed a handful of change onto the counter without regard, all whilst holding a blade to the neck of a man hidden below him. It was the small, wiry bartender he’d robbed just moments prior, whose clothes and identity he’d assumed when Jungwoo’s goons backed him into a corner. “Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

The Assembly had been hunting him for sport, like the uber rich topsiders hunted game in the summertime. Johnny had eluded them at every turn only by the skin of his teeth.

By his skin, flesh and bones, by the breaking and tearing of his own body to conform to whatever illusions necessary.

He studied his face for a few moments before taking the knife from his pocket: a handy contraption he’d built himself, with dual blades that could be deployed with the click of a button. Click, like a mechanical pencil. A thin sliver of metal emerged from his hand, gleaming, thrilled to see light again, already on its way to mark the canvas like it had a mind of its own.

It was quick enough. Two symmetrical slashes, one down each side of the face, from the undereye to the hollows of his cheekbone. Deep, painful, nicking something solid on the second stroke. The ink were a deep, glistening red colour, streaking down to his collarbone.

No sooner than he’d begun to bleed, the loose ends of his skin began to knit together. Cells into fibres into tissue into muscle—spiralling into place, regenerating, remodelling. And when they’d smoothed over into patches of new skin, there was a sharpness to his face that hadn’t been there prior.

Though not quite enough.

Again, the knife came. This time below the first cuts, deeper. Harder. Hitting bone purposefully. He hissed as a white-hot sear burst on his vision, lurching forward to clutch at the edge of the counter—before he flipped the blade around his hand and went for more. The thin scalpel now replaced by a thick blade, he drew. An artist hard at work, immersed in their vision, simply could not be stopped. A splatter of red met the floor.

He stopped only to observe. To critique. It looked too much like a past persona: the eyes too small, the mouth too low, the expression still far too cynical, like the bartender facade he’d used to fool Jungwoo. So he relaxed his brow, contorted his features to where he wanted them to be, used his fingers and a smidge of his own blood to mark where he would cut. This was detailed work, after all. He didn’t have time to measure precisely, surely, but he wasn’t a heathen.

Thud. A violent sound behind him; the door shuddered on its hinges, causing Johnny to momentarily lose control of the blade. He felt it cut deep into the corner of his eye and sever a half dozen vessels. Yet there was no fear—it wouldn’t have been the first time he gouged his own eye out, if he was a few millimetres off. There was only a certain irritation at the disruption.

“Someone in there?” a familiar voice called from outside. It was loud and booming, robotic in some strange way, almost as if it’d been fed to a machine first. But above all, it was taunting. “You’ve been in there a long time, friend… Do you need any help? The drink wasn’t too… strong, was it?”

Damn Kim Jungwoo and his timing. Clenching his jaw, Johnny ran the tap and splashed water onto his face. His blood splattered across the sink like crimson watercolour being flung across a canvas. With drenched hands, he slicked his hair back and redressed, then picked up his empty can.

He considered himself an artist in many regards. He had an aptitude for lies and trickery unlike any other. He had lived the lives of upwards of a hundred characters—all hand-drawn, hand-sculpted with the finest material, created with intention and nuance and all, never hollow or useless. The flesh and bone were only the first movement; performance was the second, even if it humiliated him to his core. Johnny believed himself to be an actor suited for centre stage and spotlight, but seldom could he claim his rightful place. Not now. Not yet.

When he flung the bathroom door open a few moments later, he emerged drunk and deranged, tipping over and grabbing onto the first person he saw. A symphony of distasteful club music and voices roared for his entrance, and he thundered above it, spitting and sputtering like an animal.

Within seconds, Jungwoo had flung him aside. They were here for the man with the bird tattoo, not this fool. So Johnny tripped past several party-goers and tumbled to the ground, yet never letting go of his tin can. Then he sat amidst stomping feet and the smell of sweat, feeling the symphony vibrate his bones, laughing until he choked. Part of it was for show; the Assembly wouldn’t bother with someone who looked like him. Part of it was to revel in his victory. In the victories to come.

For one day, he would cast aside all the characters and performances, then rise above them.

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct drabbles #nct oneshot #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #nct blurbs #nct johnny #johnny seo #johnny #johnny fanfic #johnny drabble #johnny oneshot #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios

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faeryarchives · 1 year

Text

it's not me, it was my inner demons

gn!reader x dorm leaders (part two) - kalim al asim, vil schoenheit, idia shroud & malleus draconia

it's just your typical hangout with your lover, but then you suddenly decide to act on your thoughts out of the blue.

dorm leaders part 1. || vice dorm leaders part 1 (soon)

note: I JUST FOUND OUT LIONS DO NOT PURR 😭 thank u for @lavenderr-starrs for telling me ueueue but yes let's just imagine they do just for leona

✰ kalim al asim - captivating eyes

i know his eyes are closed in the picture but his garnet-red eyes seems to always pull you in every time he would invite you to go with him doing something

riding magic carpet with him? sure! building a water park behind ramshackle dorm? no problem! burning the school kit-

yes its hard to say no to him 🥹

like him doing the blink blink blink then all your arguments are gone because there is not a thought behind those beautiful eyes 🥺

"ok for my new year's resolution is to be able to fight my hardest battles." not a minute after, kalim's head popped out out of the corner of your eye - seeing you standing still, the dorm leader revealed himself and start to run towards you.

"(naaaaaaaaame) ~ !"

"hi kalim ~ and no i won't be able to hangout at scarabia today, i have a quiz tomorrow in music!" you can feel your boyfriend grabbing a hold of your arm from behind. kalim let out a wail, turning you around to face him to see him eye to eye.

"then i'll teach you instead! you know my best subject is music, pleaaaaase." you stared at each other, (eye color) eyes clashing with garnet-red ones. and are those sparkles around kalim's head?

'you know what, there is always next year.' sighing in defeat, you linked your arms with him as the two of you walked back to he scarabia dorm.

you two did study real! it lasted for an hour 🤓 but he is a good teacher though with the sound effects

there is not a day where you do not cheer up when seeing kalim looking at you with much love and care in those eyes

yes his eyes are the prettiest imo 🫡😤 wait what if i create a poll for that omg?

✰ vil schoenheit - their existence + debates

i did not lie ok !! vil's entire existence just gives me beautiful and elegant vibes 😫

and the effort vil put in his routine? get a notebook ou and take down notes because its a real deal!

its not like you act on your thoughts - it is more like vil can read your thoughts - staring at their hair? sit down, vil would gladly style yours. talking about their nails? they would teach you how to do it.

"potato, you are spacing out again. what is on your mind?"

"how come you always know what i am thinking? i can't even surprise you!" vil chuckled before giving you a peck on the forehead.

"you are just like an open book." and that is one of the things vil find so peculiar about you. rather than keeping anything hidden, even though you tried, you would still be see through.

"don't worry about surprising me with something. because you already are with your interesting choice of everyday topics."

the interesting topics in question are - is cereal soup? what would riddle feel when he is given a riddle? if you have described something as indescribable, haven’t you already described it?

tldr: you are giving vil existential crisis everyday 😊

vil doesn't mind though they actually find it entertaining on how you think of such topics

"vil, do you think if anything is possible, it’s still possible for anything to be impossible?"

"(name), potato. for the love of the great seven. it is three am."

"but like hear me o-"

they always love to hear you ramble but as much as possible. let us not do that in early morning 😭

✰ idia shroud - fluffy hair

ok i remember i asked this before if touching his hair burn your hands but it doesn't (if it burns, let's pretend)

when the two of you started going out + going on gaming nights as dates, you both just lean next to each other and screech - or criticizing that certain character in a movie

but one day, you discover that is hair in fact is quite ... unbrushed for days ...

"idia?"

"i did not eat the last pizza slice earlier. that was not me."

"... come here." after mentioning the pizza you've been also searching for an hour, you quickly grabbed the third year's shoulder and forced un to sit on the nearby chair with a brush on the other hand. his eyes stared as if it is his worst enemy.

"i think it's time for you to have a little cleaning up as punishment don't you think?"

at first he seems pretty reluctant, trying to avoid the direction of the brush but in the end he let you do so

and ngl, it feels so nice to have his hair brushed - idia even start to doze off midway

that is how relaxed he is during the process and wouldn't mind if you do it every one in a while

or maybe everyday 🥺

"idi-"

"i bought some new ha-hairpins that i thought you would like... i-it's right over the drawers"

yes. new daily commission unlocked - decorating idia's hair with anything you like

idia doesn't mind you styling his hair, and maybe he would even go on his day being proud of your artwork

✰ malleus draconia - the cowlick, the horns, THE FANGS !!

ok i do not have favoritism but i cant just choose one 🥹

malleus would notice how you would just stop replying to his stories and always catch you staring at his face

deep inside he was like "did he not like the story? was it strange?" but no !!

"child of man, what is wrong? did i said something wrong?" you blink twice before waving your hands in front defensively.

"ah! it's nothing, i was just wondering if i could do something for a second." malleus tilt his head to the side, curious. "and that is?"

"if i can touch you for a minute."

"..."

"... treasure we should not do that before marria-" you cut him of before he could finish his sentence, you cheeks flushing red.

"th-that's what i meant! i was just curious if your horns are as hard to touch as it looks." his eyes widen for a second before he closed his eyes - grabbing your hand and putting it on his horns

"there you go, treasure. you can touch them any time"

they are cold and hard to touch but it still feel fascinating + leads to head pats in which the dragon enjoys

what i mean enjoy it. malleus loves it very much

if there goes a day if you don't pat his head, he will pout. shocking your friends but who care he want your attention 🤬

and when he pouts his little fang pokes out

🥺

"(name), malleus-senpai have been staring at you for a while now."

"oh mal? that is his way of asking for head pats. i'll be back in a second"

it was not in fact a second because malleus didn't let go of your hand and laid down on you lap while enjoying the scenery

he needs his daily pats 🤬 he likes it too when u slightly play with his cowlick it feels ticklish

i do not have favorites i just have many words to say

and that is it for dorm leaders!! i pretty much wrote this brain empty again so if there is any correction to be made feel free to tell me i will check it immediatelyy 🫶 I MISSED UPDATING EVERYDAY ACTUALLY but naur my brain said no bitch u don't have any ideas for a scenario 🥲 i am thinking to write for genshin soon !! feel free to send me your thoughts abt it ueueue

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst scenarios #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #faeryarchives

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bokehmonn · 1 year

Text

NSFW SO MINORS AWAY PLEASE-

Here's a little sneak peek of the SoapGhost VampAU I've been working on! Hope you guys like it I'm really sorry for being so slow. Life hasn't been very good to me and I've been trying to recover a little health wise as well🥲 but I hope you guys enjoy💕💕💕💕

------------------------‐--------------------------

Simon barely had the chance to look over his shoulder before he was yanked through wrought iron gates and thrown onto mahogany floors.

His breath was knocked right out of his lungs as he tried to get his bearings to no avail.

From his peripheral, he could see something dart by him, the wind brushing over his cheek.

This wasn't right.

This felt wrong in every sense of the word. The hairs on his arms and neck were up straight, his knuckles white from his clench fists. He slowly started to stand up, trying to ignore the trembling that had encompassed his entire being before he was knocked back on his knees

Even with the military training from his teens, he still wasn't sure if he could keep up. Sure, he'd dealt with his fair share of wild animals, but this?

"Jesus fuckin CHRIST-" he yelped as he was dragged by the scruff of his hoodie further into building, his sneakers squeaking against the floor in retaliation.

With a punishing grip he grabbed onto the wrist holding him as leverage and twisted his body so he was back on his knees before pulling himself out of the hoodie and getting a proper look at the perpetrator.

Dark brown eyes widened at the sight of elongated fangs and a tousled but all too familiar mohawk.

"Soap?!"

Simon took a tiny lurch forward before stopping himself and getting a proper look at the brunette.

Nothing seemed right. Soaps body was a discordant mess of joints, shoulders hunched in like a perdator. His hands clawed and flexed as if ready to rip out Simons throat at the slightest move.

Every single cell in Simons body screamed at him to turn around and RUN but he had to school himself just like every other time.

Never move first.

His father's actions had taught him that lesson enough times for it to truly stick.

He willed himself to look into Soaps eyes only to feel his stomach plummet when he spots the glow of garnet with a ring of azure. Glinting as brightly as newly polished mirrors in the centre of black ink, they were honed in on the blonde, as unmoving as stone. He took in the appearance of his arms from his peripheral. Strong muscles bunching up at the tiniest of movements skin turning from a healthy tan to black all the way to his claws.

God he was screwed.

Simon didn't know how much longer he could keep his posture, his thighs starting to shake from holding his weight for an extended amount of time.

He blanched as Soap started to move. Not towards Simon but slowly hunkering down on all fours, nails digging into the wood.

He bared his teeth and Simon could have sworn up and down that Soaps teeth had gotten longer with a faint tint of red at the ends.

As much as he wanted to run he knew the best way to make a window of escape in an area he had no Intel on.

Violence and timing.

Simon let out a quick puff of air and tensed ready to take on anything thrown his way.

Soap let out a distorted howl loud enough to make Simon flinch as he launched himself straight at the blonde, hunger evident in his eyes. Simon crouched lower last second feeling a sense of pride as Soaps expression changed to confusion before driving his fist into Soaps stomach winding the man.

Simon took the opportunity to twist and grab the other in the most punishing chokehold he could manage, legs twisting around Soap to bring him to the ground.

He could hear the brunettes garbled wheezing and felt a glimmer of hope. If he could knock him out he could leave.

He doubled down on his efforts as Soap started to struggle his arms flailing as he tried to find purchase.

"You're not going anywhere you hear me? You're gonna stay still like a good man or I swear to fucking God- " Simon growled out as he leaned back trying to keep him from moving.

If only his luck were as good as his grades.

If only he spotted the feral grin Soap sported on his face as he pulled against Simons grip one last time finally lurching forward enough to gain some traction on the ground.

If only.

Simon let out a yell bordering between panic and confusion as he was hefted into the air, arms caught in Soaps vice like grip, before being slammed down onto the ground hard enough for black spots to dance in his vision.

He let out a rattling wheeze as he struggled to get a single breath in.

He could hear Soap getting up, boots thumping.

Despite his struggles breathing the adrenaline rushing through his veins was enough to make him scramble up and make a run for the door.

If he could just get out he could find a place to hide or even bolt back home if luck be on his side.

He was a mere few feet from the door-escape at the very tips of his fingers before it was yet again snatched from him as Soap barrelled into him from behind.

Talons dug into his shoulder and neck as Soap put every ounce of his weight on the other.

Simon clawed at the ground as he wriggled under the other man, trying to get free.

Nails burrowed into his shoulder deep enough to bleed and make the blonde cry out and give up moving altogether.

He could feel Soap lean in from behind, breath fanning over his ear sending a shudder down his spine.

"Caught you."

He moved his hand up Simons neck to lay over the side of his head leaving a thin trail of blood from the shallow gashes.

Soap pressed down harder as Simon tried to struggle again, curses leaving his mouth in a flurry.

"Soap get OFF!! The fuck do you think you're doing?! Are you insane? Wait till I get out of this I swear to fucking God I'm going to rip your fucking balls off you-"

"Shut up."

Terror washed over him like an ice cold bucket of water. Simon took in a shaky breath and looked over his shoulder as best he could to see Soap staring down at him coldly. It felt wrong- the face he was so used to seeing bright and cheery dawning such a foreign expression.

"Soap?" He wheezed, fingers flexing against the floor on reflex.

"I said. Shut. Up."

Soap pressed his forehead against the back of Simons neck taking a deep breath.

"Did you always smell this good Simon? Or is that just me?"

The way Soap said his name shouldn't have made him feel the way he did. The low growl had tendrils of warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach. The flush of blood in his cheeks made his face burn. His skin tingled where Soaps hands pinned him down.

He just wanted these feelings to /stop/.

Simon tried to wiggle only to have the brunette push his head down into the ground even harder, earning him a pained yelp.

He could hear Soap wet his lips before feeling a warm tongue drag over the wounds the claws had inflicted.

Simon tried his very best to suppress the full body shudder as Soap let out what had to be the most sinful groan he had ever heard in his life.

"Fuckin hell bonnie you taste even better than my wildest dreams." He whispered nipping at Simons ear before licking over the wounds again.

"I could just eat you right up."

Simon could practically HEAR the hunger in his voice.

"Don't you fucking dare Soap!!"

Soap grabbed a fistful of the blonde's hair yanking his head up.

Simon could feel the pinprick of fangs resting right over his pulse point.

He tried to truly struggle in one last ditch effort.

He was going to die.

All alone.

Somewhere no one would find him.

Just like his father had always said.

He would die where no one would care to look.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he heard Soap chuckle quietly.

"I wanna hear you when you scream."

"Johnny-"

The sharp burn of fangs piercing his skin made the blonde freeze up for a second out of shock before the pain spread.

A moment in he realised someone was screaming. Then he realised it was himself.

It was too much. Too much. His skin was burning like he was set aflame. He could feel the pull of blood in his very being as Soap drank from him. The pain felt damn near unbearable but it felt so strange.

As much as it hurt it almost felt good. As if it were right on the boder of /too much/.

Simon felt like his mind was turning into mush. This was wrong-so wrong.

He couldn't do this.

He couldn't die like this.

He managed to pull an arm out from under Soaps thighs and elbowed the brunette hard enough to make him rip his fangs out.

Simon used the chance to twist around under him and push Soap as hard as he could before scrambling to his feet.

Only he couldn't keep his weight up and he came crashing down onto all fours in seconds.

He felt so weak. So tired.

Yet every inch of him felt like it were bruning up.

Everything was spinning. It felt odd. Too much movement. He shook his head, trying to shake off the dizziness.

He tried once again only to topple face first again.

He could feel his own blood dripping into his tshirt making it stick uncomfortably.

"Johnny.." He wheezed, reaching up with trembling hands in a weak attempt to push him off again.

Bloodied hands held his against a strong chest.

"I've got you now."

If it were any other time, he could have listened to Soap talk all day. If he were brave enough, he would have leaned against the brunette and let the rumble of his chest lull him to sleep.

But he wasn't.

He wouldn't be able to become that brave ever again.

Soap grabbed the blondes thighs, hoisting it out of the way so he could settle between them.

If Simon had much blood left he would have blushed at the act.

He watched as Soap licked his blood off his lips before leaning down knocking his temple against his almost gently.

"We're not done yet."

He let out a breathy form of protest.

It died quickly as fangs sunk back into his neck and the burning returned with a vengeance.

Simon let out a weak string of insults as he felt calloused hands stroke at the tears freely falling down his face. He would turn to ash at this rate. His skin tingled all over flushing from whatever concoction was coursing through his system. He could hear the whimpers and cries falling from his lips.

Heat pooled in his stomach like molten lava. All his nerves felt fried. Frazzled. Sensitive. His clothes felt too constricting. He was shaking like a leaf. The floor too cold under him.

It took a second for Simon to come to the sickening conclusion that he /liked/ it.

Simon let his hand roam over Soaps shoulder, grabbing onto the back of his shirt in a death grip as Soap ground down.

A stuttered gasp slipped past Simons lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

The friction felt so good. He wanted-no needed more.

The constant pull of blood forgotten as he arched his back trying to get just a little bit more of that feeling. An all too familiar ache that just needed to go away. He needed it gone. This wasn't the situation where he should be getting hard for gods sake.

Simons head hit the floor forcefully as Soap grabbed him by the hip and pinned him down.

He wanted those hands all over him. He'd watched Soap at the field too many time eyes transfixed on his hands. Grabbing at the ball, opponents gear and pulling, running through his mohawk, anything Soap did with those hands sent Simons mind straight to the gutter.

He just wanted them on his bare skin now. He'd do anything.

Why was he thinking like this?

"W-what did you do to me?" Simon whispered, hating how his voice shook.

Soap pulled back lips shiny from his blood. Simons arms flopped down to his sides.

"Feels good right?"

"The fuck..."

Soap licked his teeth clean before showing him a pink tinted fang.

"Covered in some loopy shit. Makes people go all weak kneed. And more from the looks of it. Depends on the person."

His eyes darted down to the tent in Simons pants.

Obsidian hands ran up to his chest and back down to hips wAnd more from the looks of it. Depends on the person."

His eyes darted down to the tent in Simons pants.

Obsidian hands ran up to his chest and back down to hips where they rubbed circles over the jutting bone as he ground against the blonde again.

Simon tried his best to focus on Soaps face as another sound bordering a whimper was ripped from his throat.

God knows it might be his last time seeing it. Even with the red eyes he still looks beautiful. Simon tried his level best to reach out.

Just once he wanted to feel the warm skin under his fingertips. He could hear the little hitches in his breath as he tried frantically to gain any semblance of control.

Soap seemed to have some mercy in him as he leaned down letting Simons fingers brush over his cheek and up into the buzzed side of his head.

God, he was so warm. So alive. Would he ever be able to feel this again? Would he wake up tomorrow thinking this was a dream? Would he be able to smell coffee and citrus again?

Simons eyes were starting to droop.

"Johnny please-"

"I'm not full yet."

Four words that broke him from his reverie.

"Always were a greedy little shit." Simon mumbled as he let his head fall back.

Fully surrendering.

Simon came to the conclusion that he'd do anything for Soap.

Absolutely anything.

Soaps hands tightened painfully as he bit down on the other side of Simons neck dragging out a broken whine.

Simon let curses and whimpers spill from his lips as Soap continued to grind against him. He couldn't think straight for the life of him.

"Johnny-"

He was shushed with a snarl as his sank his teeth in deeper, making Simons voice reach an all new pitch.

The blonde dragged his nails down Soaps side eyes rolling into his skull the second he felt a hand unbuttoning his jeans and finally stroking him at an unforgiving pace until he was seeing white.

It wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

He wanted it to stop but at the same time he needed Soap to keep going. He wanted Soap to erase him entirely. Take everything that plagued him and make it disappear. He just wanted to rest.

He let out a string of broken curses as his thighs shook from the exertion, back arched off the floor as he mindlessly begged for more. For anything. His vision was dark around the edges, his body so cold yet so warm.

Soap thumbed at the head smearing the precum gathered there and pressed down hard.

Simon cried out as he finally came shaking violently, thighs clamping down on Soaps side. Soaps hips stuttered as he finally came mere seconds after with a shaky grunt.

The brunette still hadn't had his fill it seemed.

Unbothered by Simon going boneless he kept stroking him through his orgasm until the overstimulation became too much and Simon begged for Soap to stop.

The blonde felt exhausted. He watched with glazed brown eyes as Soap finally pulled away with a look of pure satisfaction as he licked the come off his hand along with the blood on his chin.

Simon blinked slowly as he watched the red fade from his eyes and be replaced by the azure he adored so much.

He watched silently as Soaps face changed from blissful to confused to terrified as he yelled something. He couldn't make it out. Too muffled and faded.

His neck still burned with a dull throb in his shoulder. Simon let his eyelids flutter shut.

Finally.

Some fucking peace and and quiet.

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty mwii #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #soap call of duty #cod mwii #mwii #ghostsoap #cod

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keyshui · 1 year

Text

i present to you, a very unserious post in which i insult every NHL team!

(this is all exaggerated so don’t get mad at me)

anaheim ducks - why is it that 1/3 of the way through the season you remember how to play hockey? like at this point it’s useless since you’re not making the playoffs and if you keep up like this you sure aren’t getting bedard

arizona coyotes - i do not like your jerseys. you would be forgettable but you suck too much for it

boston bruins - the only thing your team has going for you are your goalies and i hope next season you end up where the ducks are rn: not good enough for the playoffs and not bad enough for the draft lottery. sorry garnet hathaway (please come back)

buffalo sabres - i can define your entire team in one word: disappointment

calgary flames - anything good about you died when matthew tkachuk decided to go to florida. sorry!

carolina hurricanes - something about the “canes” nickname annoys the shit out of me. i hope you get a first round exit purely so the fans enjoying their team being good for once can be upset about it

chicago blackhawks - do i even have to say anything? because ew

colorado avalanche - literally how did you win the cup last year? thanks for the cup winning goalie btw <3 kuemper is better as a cap

columbus blue jackets - you don’t deserve bedard and i hope you lose the lottery since you’re clearly not pulling yourself out of the tank like the ducks

dallas stars - your jerseys are fucking ugly and the only stars player i can think of is tyler seguin (seriously… why that green…)

detroit red wings - you have the most obnoxious fan base i have ever had the displeasure of being in the same stadium with. LET GO OF THE 90s!!! PLEASE

edmonton oilers - how do you have two of the best players in the league and still manage to fail to get a cup every single playoffs

florida panthers - honestly if it weren’t for matthew tkachuk trade and the all stars game you’d be a dying, forgettable team

los angeles kings - i literally cant think of anything to put here. that’s how little you matter.

minnesota wild - one time in like 2019 the wild squished the caps at a game i was at so i decided that the wild suck. other than that y’all are so forgettable that i don’t have anything else to say

montreal canadiens - how is it that you keep managing to get beaten so so badly by teams that suck?

nashville predators - uuuugly ass jerseys and stuuuupid ass name

new jersey devils - jack hughes isn’t as hot as y’all think he is both in terms of attraction and skill

new york islanders - i hold a deep seated hatred for all new york city teams. you and your fanbases are so goddamn annoying

new york rangers - same with the islanders except 10x worse purely because of the little rivalry the caps hage with you (hope tom wilson squishes you tonight <3)

ottawa senators - really says something about your team that you had to name brady tkachuk of all people captain

philadelphia flyers - literally what is your logo i hate it. the only thing you have going for you is gritty and even that gets tiring REAL fast

pittsburgh penguins - i don’t care if the caps/pens rivalry doesn’t exist anymore it’s ingrained into me i hate you all and especially sidney crosby. you’re an aging team. retire already. ovechkin is better and malkin is overhyped

san jose sharks - wasted a sick ass team name on a depressing team

seattle kraken - y’all were doing so good at the start of the season what the hell happened. now it’s just disappointment…

st. louis blues - you’re one of those teams that i forget isn’t fake sometimes. like you’re not forgettable you’re just not… real

tampa bay lightning - i don’t get the hype the fanbase has for vasilevsky and your gray/yellow jerseys are way better than the normal ones

toronto maple leafs - auston matthews is not hot even slightly y’all just have competency kinks and it’s sad

vancouver canucks - quinn hughes looks so haunted and depressed all the time for a reason

vegas golden knights - did y’all think you were being funny when you decided to match with the kings?

washington capitals - jesus fuck just retire the entire goddamn team at this point. stop sending your prospects to the ahl and fucking play them if you want to give your roster some “youth” (i’m looking at you gmbm & laviolette)

winnipeg jets - if it weren’t for the fact that i used a website to make this list alphabetical order i would’ve forgotten you

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evita-shelby · 10 months

Text

Tie me to a moment

For the Tom x Diane Anon

Glimpses of moments between Tom and Diane (which will be explored much better in Tie your heart to mine as they haven't happened, so *spoilers*)

Cw: mentions of depression, grief, suicidal thoughts, angst, post traumatic stress, childbirth, blood, and if i forget one please tell me

Gif by @barbieaemond

The first thing their family said when they revealed their news was: please tell me you didn’t get her pregnant.

They were not pregnant.

No, the reason they rushed to get married after River Plate was the same as every soldier who came back did: they don’t want to die without knowing what could have been.

She is beautiful, wearing the same dress her mother had worn and before that mother’s dead sister and mother.

It was floor length, all delicate venetian lace and fitted like a glove.

Looked modern with its off the shoulder cut and slight modifications.

Feels overdressed for her own wedding, who would’ve thought that?

“Most girls just wear Sunday’s best for a courthouse wedding, mama.” Diane said as her mother fixed the red roses pinned to her dark hair.

If mother had had her way she’d be wearing the mantilla veil and the entire garnet set instead of just the earrings.

“Most girls aren’t my daughter.” Her mother said as she stepped back and admired her handiwork.

“You look beautiful,” mother is moved to tears and Diane cries too because she’d never thought how overwhelming this day would be.

“Don’t forget your vows.” His dad whispers as they take their places with the judge.

Tom wears his uniform, his dad a new suit and Lois looks like mom in her new dress.

It was supposed to be something small and quick, but then Di told her parents and her mother made a noise that had them believing she had choked on her drink.

They came to find a courthouse fettered with flowers, everything kicked up a notch because no child of hers will have a small wedding.

“What?” he asks at this strange advice.

Despite his refusal to help him stay, the wedding has allowed them to make things better.

“When I married your mum, my old man told me the same thing.” His father answered with a nostalgic smile.

He and his mum had rushed to get married in 1914, before he’d go to France for the next two years.

Funny how things repeat themselves with them.

H.M.S. Keith will go to France too.

And just like Douglas Bennett, Tom Bennett won’t return the same.

Better give Diane a good memory of him before the Tom she loves is gone.

“Why did he think you’d forget the words?” he asked just as the string quartet begins.

Tom gets his answer when he sees Diane.

He isn’t sure he’s even breathing until she’s right there in front of him.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to show up today.” He says quietly feeling it has been years since he said those words to her instead maybe some months.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

When Diane is told she is dead, she refuses to believe it.

She would feel it on her heart if he were.

When the urn with his remains arrives her world goes dark.

His wedding ring is missing as is the photograph of them he kept on him for good luck.

Yet in her heart she knows he’s not dead.

“He’s dead, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Her father says trying to comfort her despite how much he hated Tom.

If it weren’t for the baby, she wouldn’t have kept on living.

She holds that last thread left of Tom inside her and even if life has no meaning for her without him, she lives because Tom Bennett Jr must live.

Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months.

She was two months when she got his last letter, she was three when his remains returned to Longsight because her parents pulled every favor they could to get him back and now she is six months pregnant.

She is not completely alone, but it isn’t fair that Tom didn’t get to share her joys and her fears nor live to meet his own child.

She knew he would miss these moments and had accepted that when both had believed he’d come home.

If Diane had known she’d been wrong about that future they were going to have, she wouldn’t have let him go that morning at the docks.

If Diane had known the last words to him were, don’t you dare leave me for some pretty nurse, Thomas Bennet, she would have never said them.

His had been, I love you too.

And yet, her heart skips a beat when the telephone in her office rings.

“What are your plans for later, Mrs. Bennett?” Tom asks and Diane rushed to the window and sees him there looking different, but he is still her Tom.

“You tell me, Mr. Bennett!” She shouts from the factory’s second story window.

When he finally returns from France, he is not the same boy she fell in love with nor married.

She isn’t the same Diane either.

Not only that, she is pregnant.

He had gotten the letter telling him the news before Dunkirk.

Think about names for a boy, I’ve seen it. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and no doubt a cutie.

He laughed then, shared his good news with everyone even the crewmates that couldn’t stand him.

Jokingly suggested Keith as a name in his last letter before they headed for Dunkirk.

I love you, can’t wait to see you again, Di.

He had written his last letter to her that same night so it would leave as soon as possible.

That had been almost four months ago.

In the meantime, so much had happened.

Lois had had a baby girl and had a nice home with Vernon, her now husband. Harry was back with the Polish girl he left his sister for and her brothers who they had become friends with.

Dad replaced him with little Jan and Tommy Shelby had regretted wishing him gone when the coffin with the fake corpse arrived.

“Don’t leave me like that again.” She cries and holds him as tightly as she could with her belly.

Fucking thing had scared the shit of him.

Couldn’t tell she was pregnant until she turned around, he was half worried he’d find a baby boy named Keith and a Vernon replacing him in her heart.

“I won’t, Di.” He promises and knows its one he is going to break.

The Crown is powerful, but somehow it is powerless to stop the Shelbys from getting what they want.

Tom’s legal resurrection takes longer than it should, especially when they must find a way to get the kin of the dead man who replaced him to get him buried in his family plot.

He had been English too, some boy same age as Tom also named Tom.

Little Thomas Michael Junior is named after three Toms, and he has not even been born yet.

“Take it.” Shelby hands him an envelope heavy with money and a set of keys.

“I meant what I said when I told you I’d never take your money.” His blood boils when he remembers him thinking he could be bought.

“Not for you, for them.” Shelby gestured towards Diane being fussed over by her mother.

It wouldn’t be long now.

She had been about two going in three months in her last letter, she had been nearly five when he came back and now that he was officially alive, she was ready to give birth at any moment.

He couldn’t have them live with his dad nor have her live in a boarding house like she did up until they got married and she took his bed in the room he and Lois shared.

His pride and his stubbornness scream no, but his reason ---that sounds like his dad far too much--- has him accepting.

“I’ll pay you back every penny.” He vows and wonders if he will live long enough to do so.

Tom is woken by a night terror when her pains start.

In his thrashing he had hurt her and now the baby was coming early.

If he is worried, Diane’s mother is worse.

Screaming bloody murder until her husband takes her to the car and one of the midwives give her the brandy Tom had bought to wet the baby’s head.

Her sister had died giving birth at home, their house too far away from the town for the doctor to come in time.

She’d never recovered from that even after four children.

“You should leave, Tom, this next part won’t be---” the midwife, a girl he once knew in school, suggested gently, but he just shook his head and refused to move from her side.

“Not leaving her. She needs me here.” And he had kept his word, letting her crush his hands as he sat behind her to keep her in the position, they needed her in.

Both were covered in sweat and tears when they heard the first cries.

“Thomas Michael, after his dad and grandad.” She had laughed breathlessly as they gave them the screaming baby boy covered in her blood.

“Your dad’s going to kill me.” He laughs as he thinks he’s never been this happy in his life.

Thomas Michael Bennett Junior, Junior for short.

“I love you.” He says kissing his wife knowing he will remember this moment forever.

#tommy shelby x oc #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x diane #diane shelby x tom bennett #tie your heart to mine fic #with the punctuality of a headlong train one shots #world on fire peaky blinders crossover #ewan mitchell

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scorchieart · 2 years

Note

Yesssssss those modern headcanons were perfect! Can we get the eldest 3 next, pretty please?

Ask nicely, and you shall receive ;)

Silly Headcanons About the Princes as Children - Part 4: Modern-Day

Jin Grandet

Made regular trips to the dentist on account of too many cavities. They became such close chums over the course of these visits to the point where Jin learned the dentist was going to become a grandpa before even the secretary knew. The dentist never scolds him too harshly. Why risk upsetting his best-paying patient? He usually just fills in the cavity and gives Jin a semi-stern finger wagging. Those were just his baby teeth, after all. Surely he’d learn to control his sugar intake by the time the adult ones grew in.

Listen, if anyone’s to blame, it’s Yves for making all those sweets so darn irresistible. Granted, Jin usually ends up eating more than his share, but he swears he only does it to keep his brothers from suffering the same terrible toothy fate as him. Ah, the lengths he goes to as the eldest…

But don’t worry, Jin makes it up to little Yves by helping him find new recipes to try. The two of them flip through cookbooks and watch cooking channels together (Jin’s favorite show is Cupcake Wars*), and Jin jots down the ingredients and steps for all the desserts Yves asks for. It’d be a heck of a lot easier to remember them all if the DVR memory wasn’t always full.

Jin is a master of diversions. Whenever the gang has to attend high-society parties or events and the younger ones inevitably get nervous or uncomfortable around the haughty socialites, Jin would swoop in and deploy his silver tongue to dazzle and diffuse the situation. Then he’d discreetly pull his brothers aside to someplace quiet (like a coat closet or an outdoor veranda), give them whatever candy he had in his pocket (be it lollipops or candy canes or gummy worms) and pat them on the back until they stopped crying. He’d stay hidden with them for the entire night if he needed to.

His favorite place on Earth is Hershey Park, followed closely by the M&M’s Factory.

One year, Jin was gifted a stunning silver ring with a massive andradite garnet inset center stone for his birthday. He took one look at the gift, thought it was a ring pop, and swallowed it whole. He learned the hard way later that night that not all shiny rocks are candy.

But he was intrigued by the idea of birthstones, so he went out and bought a stone bead for each of his brothers: topaz for Chevalier, alexandrite for Clavis, peridot for Leon, sapphire for Yves, and two shades of opal for the twins. It pays to grow up rich. He wears them around his neck on a chain along with his garnet gem (after a thorough washing, of course) and never takes it off.

Would never admit it aloud to his brothers, those six are already more than enough, but he secretly hoped to add an emerald to the collection so he could complete the rainbow.

Chevalier Michel

Can’t stand staying in the house when all his brothers are home, so he packs a bag full of books and high-protein energy bars and spends the day at the local library. Most people stop and stare at the little boy walking across town and crossing the busy streets on his own, but with just one stern over-the-shoulder look the people flinch and continue on their merry way. He’ll be fine, he looks like he knows where he’s going.

There are multiple libraries around the area, but he usually visits the one farthest away on the outskirts of town. It is an old, dilapidated shack of a building, run by a doddery librarian who looks even more ancient than the place itself. But it hosts a modest collection of classic and modern titles, has charming vintage armchairs you could just melt into, and, most importantly, is free of shrill little brothers. One would think the first place to find Chevalier would be in a library, but the challenge lies in which one.

The first time Chevalier visited the place he thought the librarian had died at the counter. But four hours into his reading session, a massive sneeze echoed through the dingy racks that shook him to his core. Chevalier grabbed his bag and flew out the door before the now-moving librarian could ask if he wanted to apply for a library card. But he returned the following week, standing on his tippy-toes to reach the top of the counter, and politely apologized and requested a library card.

This probably doesn’t even need to be said at this point, but Chevalier isn’t a big TV fan. “Television rots the brain,” he’d said when Clavis and Leon asked if he wanted to watch superhero shows with them. But there are a select few programs he doesn't mind watching, particularly educational ones like science shows and historical documentaries and brainy quiz games.

But his brothers usually hogged the TV all day with their baby shows and cartoons, so he kept a copy of the TV guide hidden in his room and always set the DVR to record the shows he didn’t want to miss. Then he’d wake up in the middle of the night, quietly sneak into the family room to watch his lineup, then slip back into bed at dawn. It’s a good excuse to sleep through the hubbub of the morning cartoons, that’s for sure.

But one night he fell asleep on the couch watching a particularly dull documentary on the history of haberdasheries and woke up the next morning to the sun burning his eyelids, Season 27 of Jeopardy!* on screen, and Clavis and Leon bouncing on the cushions laughing and taunting him. Chevalier whacked them off the couch with a pillow, shut off the TV, and headed for the library.

As a prank, Clavis signed Chevalier up for the Jeopardy! Kids Tournament, but it came to none of the brothers’ surprise that he absolutely swept the competition. He then proceeded to dominate the Teen Tournament a few months later despite not meeting the minimum age requirement to enter. The only category he flubbed on was “Saturday Morning Cartoons”, and since then he’s made occasional appearances in the family room to watch with the others.

Chevalier donated the prize money to the rickety old library. It already paid to grow up rich.

Clavis Lelouch

He pours the milk before the cereal (and that’s a fact)

He dressed as a mad scientist for Halloween one year and turned it into his entire personality. He’d wear the lab coat and rubber gloves and goggles everyday and everywhere. He wanted to wear the crazy wig that came with the costume too, but it made Yves cry so he resolved to just ruffling up his hair to be extra floofy in the morning.

But a mad scientist needs a base of operations to conduct his experiments. So he chased Licht and Nokto and their snack stash out of the treehouse and set up the “Lelouch Laboratory”. Flashing lights and freaky sounds and funky smells often emanated from the lab well into the late hours of the night.

But a mad scientist needs materials to set up and test his experiments. Luckily, Clavis is never wont for supplies as he treats all objects with potential to be studied. From freshly cut blades of grass to his Science teacher’s car keys to Chevalier’s barf-inducing energy bars, anything and everything had the potential to astound and amaze with just a “What if?” and a spark of imagination. And it didn’t hurt that he could always swipe his father’s credit card if there ever came the opportunity to acquire a particularly fascinating material online. It pays to grow up rich.

But a mad scientist needs test subjects to run his experiments on. His brothers were too clever to fall for his pleas for help, so Clavis resolved to luring the neighborhood kids into his den with promises of Yves’s sweets in exchange for their assistance. It wasn’t uncommon to hear panicked shrieks or see children fleeing in terror from the backyard.

The final experiment run at the Lelouch Laboratory happened on what started out as a calm spring’s day. Clavis had just received a bottle of fluoroantimonic acid in the mail (don’t ask where he bought it from) and was dying to test it out on his oddball collection of knickknacks. But safety is the number one priority at the Lelouch Laboratory, so he needed to find a fearless assistant with a strong will to keep a sharp eye on the trials and make sure nothing “unexpected” happened. The little redheaded boy he found napping under the seesaw at the park was perfect.

Everything was set up according to plan. He’d laid his assortment of solvents out on the floor of the treehouse, triple checked to make sure his goggles and gloves were on properly, and flashed the little boy wobbling in the corner a thumbs up to begin. But before Clavis could insert the dropper into the bottle of acid, the sleepy boy closed his green eyes and fell facedown on the testing zone. The bottle tipped over and the fluoroantimonic acid spilled out, running along the floor and rapidly eating away at the wood until eventually the entire treehouse caved in and collapsed. Luckily, the two made it out mostly unscathed, but Clavis has since been forced to shut down his operations and hang up his lab coat until he could acquire a hazardous chemical license. Jin pulled the two out of the rubble, offered them honey buns to calm them down, then walked the boy with the garnet hair and emerald eyes back home.

Read the modern day hc's for the youngest 3 here!

Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady

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eccentricink · 1 year

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A Tuft-Tailed Infiltration - Act I - Mephistopheles

Leather fabric lay taught upon his torso, highlighting his physique under the sultry lights of The Fall. His verdant eyes glowed like deadly fireflies within the club’s dim atmosphere as they raked my figure. Who would have thought a Bunny Boy could ever look so vicious?

—

Beneath the scarlet Devildom sky and high above the walls of the Royal Academy Of Diavolo upon the highest spire of the grand castle rest the unresting RAD Newspaper Club room -if one could call it a room-. It shared higher semblance to a miniature loft mansion, with countless rooms used as studies for the ink-stained club members and even more that contained the printing presses that birthed the newspapers themselves; all jutting out from the tower and leering down upon the rest of the demon world.

Atop it all sat the study of the former club head, his station taking up what seemed like an entire floor. It was a mess of paper, spilled ink and a few odd apparati tossed about. A trio of bay windows on three different walls struck out from the room and let in beams of garnet light.

And in undeniable likeness to the room, he paced back and forth within it, adding and removing various objects to the bags scattered about him, having broken in a few minutes prior. His uniform long disregarded, he stood in his usual noblewear, a cane at his hip and a satchel sound across his shoulders.

‘With this my preparations are complete, ready to go on a stakeout, my beloved journalist?’, Mephistopheles said in an air of charismatic pomp as he packed yet another camera battery into his satchel, extending a gloved hand towards me.

‘Almost ready M’lord’,I replied in taunt as I took his hand, in turn he tugged me close and snaked an arm around my waist.

‘Hm, and here I was thinking we were closer than titles’, He replied with faux offence as I brought my free hand to the side of his neck. The light claret rays that shone through the windows encapsulated his features and brought the mirage of a blush across his face to my gaze; viridian eyes that locked onto mine framed by loose amethyst hair, all above a coy smile.

Or was the light a convenient mask for a pre-existing fluster?

Before my mind could wander further, his smile grew more cunning and he let out a chuckle before tightening his grip on me and spinning the two of us around.

He swept his legs with the most agile of footwork and and moved his arms with effortless grace, and before I knew it, we were ballroom-dancing across the study, twirling in grace and exquisite tandem to a tune as existent as our patience.

‘A dance? Are you sure this is the right time?’

‘Oh journalist of mine, it’s always the right time for a dance’

‘What about you then, are you ready for the mission?’, I asked as we separated for a moment and he planted a kiss upon my knuckles before pulling me back into his embrace.

‘I simply require the microphone D.D.D attachment and the scroll, you do recall the plan, I hope?’

‘Oh no I don't quite remember the plan, I don’t think your past sixteen explanations were adequate’

In response, he spun me about him with a scoff.

‘Just kidding Mephi, Our sources have informed us that Mammon has yet again roped his brothers into working as bunny boys at the Fall; this time for the club’s elite and the club’s elite alone. The two of us are going to go there disguised as Thirteen and Raphael in an attempt to catch them off guard and get a story for the paper juicier than a ripe Beelzefruit.’, I recited, choosing to avoid pointing out the ever-so-slight pout that traced his face at the words ‘club’s elite’.

He hummed in satisfaction nonetheless and I felt his pulse pick up underneath my palm, and with that so did his pace as we broke out into a full waltz.

‘Oh I can imagine the headlines now’, He said, eyes beginning to wander. “The ‘great’ lords of the devildom have yet again been swindled into working as mere performers, is this a sign of unstable leadership? Can we trust demons in skanky bunny outfits to pilot our great realm?” ’, His voice dripped with sadistic mirth as the words escaped his lips, no doubt already visualising what would transpire within his mind.

In his brief moment of fantastical distraction, I seized the moment.

A meticulous exercise of footwork and a well-timed pull accompanied with a snatch and slight of hand, and I had him dipped in a grande low finale.

‘Your microphone attachment’, and I held out the device to him with my left hand as I supported his entire weight at the back of his head on my right with a smile that could rival even his best sly grin.

For a wisp of a moment, his face betrayed true shock, before he stitched his composure back together and nimbly rose to his proper height with a rose-tinted gentle smile, tucking the microphone into his satchel.

He planted another kiss upon my knuckles before we broke apart a final time.

‘And now, all that’s left is the scroll’, he said as he walked over to a teetering and precarious stack of books beside a stuffed bookshelf, extracting a narrow box from the centre and causing the stack to shudder.

‘The sheer things I had to do to get my hands on this’, he muttered as he sauntered towards me while unsealing the protective case.

At this point he was at my side, and I peered down into the box. Inside was a yellowed, scuffed up loose roll of parchment charred black at the bottom with a single rotting wooden handle. It may have once been a fine document with proper ends and crisp paper, but it was stark that this sheet had seen its fair share of weather; for now one could only describe it as nothing more than ancient rubble.

Mephisto gingerly lifted it from its boxed confines and discarded the box to his side. His brow furrowed with concentration as he unfurled the scroll, as if it would deteriorate into dust with a single misstep -which, it most likely would- to reveal a dull and discoloured scrawl, barely noticeable to my human eyes and let alone readable. I squinted hard in an attempt to decipher the language it was written in, to which Mephisto must have taken notice;

For he said, ‘Ancient Aramaic, that’s what this is. The language is so dense and archaic that the majority of even demons fail to comprehend it. I stand as one of the only beings in current existence capable of comprehending it.’ As he reached the end of his sentence, pomp and pride crept their way from his chest into his mind and escaped intertwined in his words.

Long had I already admired and respected Mephisto, but I couldn't help myself being brought to a different degree of that admiration and respect at his revelation; I could feel it simmering and flowing within my chest cavity, lightly pushing outward beneath my chest itself.

With a demeanour of light perturbe set within his irises he locked eyes with me, as if to ask, ‘Are you ready for this?’

With my smirk and a head nod as a definite response, he took a low breath and began to read off the scroll.

~The two of us would typically spend hours alone together, be it within the golden confines of the library or upon horseback as we trotted through pastures littered with wild flora in tandem with each other. During these occasions, there was seldom a juncture of silence between us, the air constantly vibrating to the tune of either his or my vocals. As a result, I came to know his voice well -every rasped laugh, passion-filled ramble and anguished cry- I knew them all.

Or so I had thought.

The sheer sound of the incantation was what struck hardest and most apparent, causing me to stumble backwards. His tone deep, detached and vigorous as the spell itself rode along his voice and flew through the room in a luminescent and formidable cacophony of spirals and bracelets; and now I knew exactly what he meant when he said what he did about the language not even a minute earlier.

Slashes of inexplicable alarm struck me as hard and fast as a ringmaster’s whip.

In a frenzy I turned towards Mephisto, only to find that his eyes had become glazed over in wisps of green and that his horns and wings had broken free from his human form, the pair of pairs partly bioluminescent in vivid chartreuse. My gaze swept his figure and came to unrest upon his feet, there he was, levitating off the ground without the aid of his wings.

Not only was the fact that he now no longer touched the ground brought to my attention, I now discerned deep purple mist emanating from the scroll and pooling down upon the floor, not unlike dense cursed incense. It slithered across the leaves of paper on the floor and clashed against the walls of the study like furious waves upon a cliffside.

My knees betrayed my weight to the ground as my muscles snatched and yanked at my flesh, and my bones turned into what felt like clay in the hands of a sculptor. A thousand hellfire ants seemed to work at my eyes, tearing, ripping away and replacing my iris.

My lungs seemed to forget about the existence of inhaling, and for a moment of true terror I feared that the worst would transpire.

And then silence.

The mist cleared and the panic stopped, as abrupt as the way it struck.

I closed my eyes.

A heartbeat passed.

Then two.

Then three.

And when my breathing slowed, I creaked my eyelids apart, and my body was not my own.

Looking down, the first part of my new form to grace my eyes was my hands;

Lightly tanned calloused skin snugly fitted to slender appendages.

Another breath and I felt the skin of my abdomen contract. Sinew abs lined my form, in complete exposure to the air of the study.

As I brought myself into a kneel, I truly felt the transformation in its entirety. Every movement brought new, cold skin to feeling, as if I had been deprived of flesh itself and forced into the skin of another -and that was exactly what had happened- I realised.

‘Mm’, my thoughts were brought to a halt as a light groan emanated from across the room in a voice ever so slightly familiar.

Upon the ground where Mephisto once stood sprawled Thirteen the Reaper, or at least a portrait-perfect imitation of her. ‘She’ also brought herself to her knees in a groggy fashion as her tri-coloured eyes seemingly adjusted to themselves, glancing around the expanse of the study before settling upon me and squinting in a coy smirk.

‘You do make a wonderful Raphael, dearest journalist’

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And that sends off Act I, progress has been slow, and shall be slow, at least until academics let up enough to give my quill breathing room.

To my readers;

Thank you, and stay patient.

-E.I

#obey me mephistopheles #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me x reader #obey me swd #omswd #eccentricink

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bookwormscififan · 2 months

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The Amethyst Files, Part 1

Read on AO3!

The Files Series

Garnets and Amethysts

A/N: Jackie travels to America to learn new things, and instead finds new vampires and a potential mate.

Warnings: slight violence.

The moon shone full and bright over the town, a slight breeze muffling the sounds of sleeping townsfolk. The windows of houses were closed, lined with silver to prevent unwanted visitors, and every member of the town had a dagger under their pillows.

He stalked through the streets, looking into windows and pressing his tongue against the point of his fang, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he searched for an easy meal. The town was vastly different from the small town in London he’d lived in, but he had needed to move before more of his family were killed.

“Why are you here?” He stopped as a voice hissed at him from the alley on his right, and he turned to see two pairs of eyes glaring at him. “This is our town. You won’t find anything good here.”

“Who are you?” He asked softly, moving into the shadow of the alley to confront the others. “You’re vampires too, right?”

“Hush!” One pair of eyes glanced around before leading him deeper into the alley, moonlight glinting off the garnet colour of his irises. “This is my mate, Mare, and I’m Mad. You’re new here, and you need to leave.”

He frowned, but shrugged and left anyway, turning to glance back at the vampires watching him go, squinting slightly before heading off. He’d need to learn more about them soon.

----

The human walking down the street looked familiar. He certainly smelled human, but he looked like the vampire in the alley from weeks ago.

As the sun disappeared behind a cloud, he fell into step beside the human, following him before clearing his throat, making the human stop to look at him.

“Hello.” He worked to hide the fangs behind his lips, giving the human a gentle smile and extending a hand in introduction. “My name is Jackie. I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink some time.”

“Phantom,” the human replied, shaking Jackie’s hand and returning his smile. “I’m not busy right now, and I’d like to have a drink.”

“Basically, I’m looking for my twin brother,” Phantom explained, hunched over his drink as he sat at a table opposite Jackie in a bar. “He’s been gone a while, and I just wanted to make sure he’s alright. Usually he’d have contacted me by now.” He finished his drink, looking at Jackie with glassy eyes and drooping his head slightly.

“When you find your brother,” Jackie began, sipping from his glass of wine slowly, smelling the sweetness of Phantom’s intoxication in his blood. “Will you leave, or will you stay a while?”

“Depends on whether Mare’s safe or not, I guess,” Phantom slurred, tracing a pattern onto the table with a finger. “If he’s hurt, obviously I’d stay to make sure he heals well, but if he’s just been avoiding me, then I’d probably go back home.”

“Can I help you find him?” Jackie didn’t know why he’d offered, only that he wanted to stay near Phantom, wanted to be close to him, to stake a claim on him and make sure no other vampires got to him. “I’m very good at finding people.”

“That would be nice,” Phantom murmured, sliding lower in his chair until he was practically laying horizontally in it. “I wouldn’t mind having a strong man helping me to find my brother. Thank you. Can you help me find somewhere to stay for the night?”

----

“There are no more vampires in this town,” Mad grumbled again, pulling at his hair as he paced the cabin in front of his bed. “I made sure of that. It’s just you and me, and the paranoid town who boarded up their windows so we can’t feed on them at night.”

“He had an accent,” Mare commented, laying on his stomach on the bed and watching Mad pace. “Maybe there are more vampires in other places around the world. The ones you killed for me can’t have been the only vampires in the entire world.”

“I know that,” Mad replied, stopping and looking at Mare. “But why would a vampire come here? Why this town? There’s no way he’d heard of us, and even if he had, what does he plan to do?” He sat on the bed with a huff, falling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

“We’ve had so much peace for so long,” he sighed, resting his hand on Mare’s back when he moved to lay across his stomach. “I don’t want our peace to be ruined. I like our routine, our small corner of the world where it’s you and me with no worries.”

“I know, dear,” Mare replied, reaching a hand up to hold Mad’s free one, “Maybe we can find him and figure out why he’s here.” He let out a soft chuckle when he looked up and caught sight of something on the ceiling. “There’s blood on the ceiling.”

“We’ll clean it later,” Mad replied, wrapping his arms around Mare’s waist and holding him close. “Let’s just lay here for a while. Appreciate our peace.”

----

Phantom grumbled as he rolled over, feeling the softness of the pillow under his cheek as he hugged the body closer to his chest… then stopped and opened his eyes. The body beside him? He squinted at the mop of green hair in front of his face, tracking down the jaw and shoulders to see the hands held protectively over his own around his chest.

“Mm,” The man in front of him hummed before shifting, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at Phantom, lips lifting into a sleepy smile. “Mornin’.” He held Phantom’s hand tightly while reaching the other around to stroke his cheek, cupping his jaw tenderly.

“Hi…” Phantom’s voice was soft, unconsciously leaning into his bedmate’s touch, then frowned and furrowed his brow. “Um, I don’t remember much from last night… we had a few drinks, and then…” He tried to move away, but the man’s grip was tight on his hand as he rolled over to properly face him, blue eyes soft with concerned understanding.

“I didn’t take advantage of you,” he started, smirking at Phantom’s blush. “My name is Jackie. I’m going to help you look for your brother. You were really drunk last night, and you wanted me to sleep by your side because you were afraid of sleeping alone.”

“Don’t let me dream alone.”

Phantom’s cheeks grew darker as his words echoed in his mind, and he shifted his hand slightly to get more comfortable in the bed. Relief swept through him as he realised his clothes were still on, and he let out a soft sigh.

“Can I… Can I get up?” He asked, huffing a short laugh when Jackie hummed in mock consideration. “I just – I need to go to the bathroom, and I’m a little hungry.” He smiled at Jackie when he let go, climbing out of the bed and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he headed for the bathroom.

“I was thinking to start by asking around town if anyone had seen Mare,” Phantom stated, finishing the plate of pancakes in front of him as he waited for Jackie’s response.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Jackie said, finishing his glass and smiling at Phantom. “We could split up and I’ll ask one side of town while you ask the other. Here, I’ll give you my phone number so you can contact me when you find something out.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to Phantom, then tapped the surface and stood up.

“Thank you for helping me, Jackie,” Phantom muttered, listening to Jackie’s footsteps pause before he left the house, door clicking shut behind him. He pushed the plate aside, then stood up and grabbed a jacket, heading out of the house and down the street.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you’d seen a man around here? He’s slightly taller than me, looks similar, usually wears purple? His name is Mare, he’s my brother.” Phantom leaned casually against the desk of an office, giving the woman behind the desk a polite smile as he waited for a response.

“I have, actually,” she replied, folding her hands on the desk. “He moves around town with a young man. I think they live just out of town, in a—”

“Phan?” Both people turned at the quiet voice behind Phantom, seeing a hooded figure standing in the doorway of the office with a look of surprise on his face.

“Mare?” Phantom moved almost as if in a daze, walking toward his brother with his mouth agape. “Is that you? Are you alright? You haven’t written in so long, I was worried—” He was cut off by a hand against his throat, pushing him against the wall, and he looked into flashing red eyes and sharp fangs snarling at him.

“He’s mine,” a harsh voice growled, pushing Phantom further into the wall, nails biting into his skin. “Leave him alone.” Phantom gasped, voice gurgling as his airways were cut off, and he scrabbled at the hand holding him up.

“Please…”

“Stay away from us.” The man huffed as he was pulled away from Phantom, growling and snapping at Jackie as he dragged the man away. Phantom coughed as he hit the ground, pressing his hand against the thin and bloody scratches on his neck as he choked on the air coming into his lungs.

“No! Please! Leave him alone! We’ll stay away, we swear!” Mare pushed Jackie away, lifting Mad into his arms and fleeing the office, saving one last glance at Phantom before they disappeared from sight.

Jackie crouched beside Phantom, running his hands over him to check for wounds before his nostrils flared at the scent of Phantom’s blood on his neck, eyes widening. Tearing up the hem of his pants, Jackie tied the scrap around Phantom’s neck and carried him out, back into the house before stepping back.

“What- what was that?” Phantom croaked, standing slowly to find the first aid kit, frowning when Jackie stayed silent, standing several feet away. “Jackie? Is something wrong?” He winced as he dabbed antiseptic on his wounds, then carefully wrapped a bandage around the nail marks before looking at Jackie again.

“Your brother’s a vampire,” Jackie started, hands shaking as he watched Phantom. “The man that hurt you, he’s Mare’s mate. You’re not safe here.” He started to back away, flinching when Phantom reached out for him.

“Why? Why do you seem so scared?”

“Your brother’s a vampire. I know because… I’m a vampire, too.”

---------------

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