Welcome to the Casino

18+ (mdni!), yandere and OC blog!

[buriedpair]

It’s been a while.

Did you miss us?

So, some of you may have noticed the blog is pretty empty now. I had a lot to deal with when I disappeared, but now I’m back! I cleared out all my old posts because I just wasn’t proud of them anymore. It felt inconsistent, incomplete… I can do way better.

You can probably guess where this is going.

Bum bum bum… Revamp!

Please allow me to be your host tonight.

To your left, you’ll see the establishment’s prized dealer, Edge ( #bpedge ) He can catch a cheat a mile away! He’s impressive, but try not to get too close for your own sake. Don’t tell him I said this, but he always seems to be in such a bad mood.

At his table, you’ll find one of our regulars. Amias ( #bpamias ) can’t seem to lose. He hasn’t been caught cheating yet, so maybe he’s just really lucky? If you ask me, I’d say he probably annoys Edge so much that he can’t focus.

Behind the table games, you’ll see our bar. The bartender, Jackpot ( #bpjackpot ), makes the best cocktails you’ve ever had. Well, that is, if you like your alcohol over-poured…

Oh! Near the high rollers you can see the owner, Gambit ( #bpgambit ). He’s a sight to see, but there’s a lot of power behind those charming smiles. Try not to get on his bad side.

Ack! Look behind you, but don’t make it obvious! By the sportsbooks. That’s Double Down ( #bpdoubledown ), the debt collector. He’s way too friendly for a guy that executes people as a job… Freaky!

So, welcome back.

I hope you enjoyed your tour! Please, explore our establishment to your hearts content. I know the place has gone through quite a few changes, but there’s no need to be overwhelmed. Don’t be afraid to ask me, or any of our delightful staff, if you have any questions.

[buriedpair]

im feeling an urge to write a duo/rivalry. suggestions in my ask box will be promptly eaten like the delicious meal they are

[heketiri]

Trust

Yandere Gambit (@buriedpair) x Reader

I wrote fanfiction for Buried Pair 🥰

You should check them out! Characters will likely be OOC because I don't own them. I had a vision and I wrote it

CW: Reader is not referred to with any pronouns, dubcon, and drugging. There is very little smut.

Something brought you to Buried Pair.

Gambling was hardly one of your preferred ways to pass the time. Especially since you don’t belong here. The heads turned your way proved it time and time again; uncomfortable at best, and terrifying at worst. Humans are a rarity in this society and commonly seen as defenseless, weak, and pathetic. They were hardly worth spending time on, yet nonhumans loved to make a victim out of people like you.

Buried Pair had a rather peculiar employee formally known as a debt collector, but he was ruthless. Any cases surrounding the casino were dismissed in days. If you became a statistic, it was unlikely you’d ever get justice. What would it have meant to you, anyway?

A victim to a society that saw you as an afterthought.

You knew this and knew it well. Despite this, you had no reason to believe you’d be killed indiscriminately. While Buried Pair was known for its deadly debt collection methods, you were wise enough to never let it become a problem in the first place. The threat of dealing with the casino’s debt collector could be enough to dissuade others from harassing you.

The sight of the building alone was nearly enough to make you turn around and leave. Knowing that you’d stick out despite your best attempts to avoid conflict caused this bitter, twisted feeling to fester in your gut. It wasn’t fair.

You persisted. With a deep breath, you mustered the courage to trudge on past the slot machines, past the horned man pestering the dealer, and made your way towards the bar.

A drink was not what you’re after, but you knew you had to be here. Why, you weren’t sure. You weren’t used to the atmosphere, to the people gambling their lives away. There was nothing you had in common with anyone here, you’re certain.

The bartender, a handsome man with scales littered across patches of his skin, turned your way. His reaction to your human self was unlike anything you’ve seen before: wide, shocked eyes, but his expression did not shift into disgust or pity. His eye contact was intense enough to make you glance elsewhere. Sheepishly, because you don’t know what to make of him.

He muttered something; you only know because you saw his lips moving in your peripherals. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem intended for you to hear.

You couldn’t recall the conversation you had with him, only that his nickname here was Jackpot.

****

The casino’s patrons did not give you any trouble. You made time to visit Jackpot, and your presence seemed to make his day. You had no idea why, but it was nice to see him glow whenever you showed up at his bar.

He mentioned his boss, Gambit, here and there. He had nothing bad to say about Gambit, and it became clear that they were good friends. You couldn’t help but wonder: why did Jackpot seem so lonely when he had a friend as close as Gambit?

It didn’t make sense, and you usually weren’t one to judge. There was something deeply wrong here, but you lacked concrete proof.

Sometimes, you’d observe Jackpot working before greeting him. The conclusion you came to? Jackpot needed help. The possibility of exploitation came to mind, but when you carefully brought it up, Jackpot vehemently denied it.

“No, Gambit is not like that. He would never do that to me.”

You met Gambit a few days later. Gambit had stopped you by the shoulder. His cold demeanor terrified you enough that you couldn’t hide the fear in your expression. How did he know?

His first words to you were about one of the suites, suggesting you should think about it. He didn’t walk off immediately; a few uncomfortable seconds had been spent in silence before you realized you could leave.

****

As it turned out, Gambit truly appeared to be a reasonable enough guy. His reputation was well-earned, and you only knew a fraction of what he was capable of. A man like him had to be powerful if he could hire assassins to handle the dirty work for him and have no one bat an eye.

There’s more to Gambit, but you hardly knew him. Jackpot was easy, it felt like you were more of a danger to him than he was to you. With Gambit, you knew you were powerless and small. Yet he never took advantage of you, and treated you with more respect than most nonhumans did outside the casino.

Eventually, you found yourself welcome even without spending money first. You didn’t get the luxury of VIP treatment, but the owner liked you enough. In rare moments, you could almost swear that he wanted more. Gambit looked at you differently than Jackpot, but you couldn’t make sense of it.

You did enjoy Gambit’s company. He scared off any patrons who would give you trouble otherwise. You’d be lying if you said he ever mistreated you. There was little warmth behind his charming smiles, but with you he felt more genuine. It was something you appreciated. He made you feel special.

****

You couldn’t remember last night. How could you forget something that happened so recently?

Upon slowly blinking awake, you froze, stiff as a board. You couldn’t move, instead forced to feel your heart race on its own, preparing itself for an attack or escape. It took a moment for you to take in the details of your surroundings: luxurious furniture and decor, even down to the mattress you slept on. You weren’t home, but where were you?

Willing yourself to move, you managed to break out of your fear-induced paralysis and glanced once more around your room.

Nothing stopped you from heading out and exploring the area. So you did, quickly finding yourself back in the casino. You were in a suite, it seemed. That made sense. Gambit had suggested it to you when you met. You hadn’t expected yourself to actually go through with it, but apparently you did.

Jackpot was quick to appear at your side. Only this time, he’s clearly upset. “I think you were right about Gambit,” he suddenly stated. The comment threw you off; what changed his mind? Jackpot’s hand gripped onto your arm, a little too tight for comfort.

“Why should he get to help you? He didn’t even let me help!” Jackpot was surprisingly sober. He never was, and you had gotten used to it. Seeing the clarity in his eyes, how different they were than usual, was jarring. He paused, gazing deep into your eyes. It only made him more distressed. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. All Gambit told me was that he handled it, but I needed to see you for myself. He made me worry the whole night. It’s not fair!”

You needed help last night? No, that wasn’t right… Did you really?

“What happened? I don’t remember anything.”

“You don’t?” Jackpot furrowed his brows in deep thought, like he’s trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces. He sought your eyes like a lifeline, holding on to you as if you’d drift away. “I remember… Someone slipped something into your drink, and I didn’t see who did it. You passed out, but Gambit caught you before you fell. He said it made sense for him to take you to an empty suite. I begged to go with him because I…” There was a tense pause. You waited for Jackpot to finish, but the growing dread gnawing at you could not be ignored. “I don’t trust him alone with you.”

Why Jackpot would suddenly doubt Gambit eluded you. His boss had been so good to you, and he cared deeply for Jackpot as well. This felt wrong. Gambit didn’t do anything to deserve this, but Jackpot’s insistence was worth listening to.

“Really? Gambit wouldn’t do anything. He’s never seen me that way.” You weren’t eager to point fingers, but Jackpot was your first friend here. He could be eccentric at times, but you doubted it was his fault. Someone might have failed him in his life, but that was only a theory of yours. Jackpot couldn’t tell you much about his past, anyway. He wasn’t a malicious guy; you could trust him, but believing him meant accepting that there was a very real possibility that Gambit did something to you.

“You might be right.” It felt like your blood has gone cold.

Jackpot didn’t seem to be doing any better. His grip on you had not loosened since you started talking. “We can’t trust him at all,” he murmured. “He’s not my friend…”

It appeared as though Jackpot’s making this realization in the moment. Gambit clearly was his friend, but you wondered if Jackpot was denouncing him for possibly taking advantage of you, or if there was a deeper meaning that you knew too little to understand. You weren’t entirely convinced Gambit had done anything at all.

Color drained from Jackpot, staring not at you but something behind you. He released your arm, but ushered you beside him.

When you turned to look behind you, goosebumps formed on your skin in seconds.

“Are you feeling well?” Gambit’s worry was evident in his expression. He focused more on you than he did Jackpot. After all, you did get drugged last night. Gambit, in that moment, did not look like the kind of man with ill intentions for his friends at all.

“I’m… okay. I don’t have a headache or anything.” You calmed down a little after seeing Gambit be his usual polite self.

“You should be in bed,” he suggested. “You might feel side effects today. I’ll walk you back.” Gambit extended a hand; there was a clear expectation for you to take it, even if he didn’t vocalize it.

You spared a glance towards Jackpot. You couldn’t read him, and you only hoped that Gambit hadn’t heard his employee, his friend, suggest he could be capable of something as terrible as assault.

Gambit wouldn’t do anything to you, there’s no evidence to indicate otherwise. There was no soreness in your body at all, you were fine. So you took his hand, and spared Jackpot a final glance before Gambit guided you back to your suite.

****

The walk back had been mostly silent. For some strange reason, when you passed by a particular painting, you stopped. It wasn’t the painting that was important, you couldn’t care less, but it was familiar. You have passed this painting before. Last night, to be exact.

Gambit, sensing your growing panic, was quick to check up on you. “It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his thumb over your hand. A comforting gesture, perhaps. “I will help.”

He’s said that before.

****

A strange heat surged through you, just enough to make you uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Distantly, you were aware. Your fear, replaced by a desperate need once you were settled into bed. You didn’t know what happened, but you knew you needed help.

Kind, generous Gambit, thankfully, brought you to safety. The moment your body touched the sheets, you sighed blissfully. Sleep was just what you needed, but your body’s aching for something you could not mention.

You thought Gambit would leave once you’re safe, but he lingered. The bed dipped with his weight, and you opened your eyes, confused.

“How are you feeling?” He had asked, and he seemed concerned. It made something in you stir.

“Weird,” you answered. Realizing that he should probably get a better response, you forced yourself to continue. “My body is hot and uncomfortable.”

Gambit stayed silent. He stared at the ground, but when he looked your way, there was something different about him. “Sex will help.”

His blunt words stunned you for a moment. How could he mention that so casually? You were trying to avoid saying it in the first place!

“I don’t know…” You weren’t completely opposed to the idea, but would it really help? Should you even let your friend’s boss sleep with you while you’re clearly unwell?

“What you’re going through will become unbearable if you don’t let me help. It’ll get worse if I don’t.” Gambit spoke as this would be an easy decision for you, as if it was the most natural arrangement in the world.

When you didn’t seem entirely convinced, Gambit moved closer until you felt his body against yours. Even such a simple touch was enough to cause your hesitation to waver, to silence any future protests from coming out of your mouth.

“I won’t do anything if you don’t let me,” he assured, but it felt more like a threat in your delirious state. The decision was yours; Gambit was letting you decide: either face unbearable symptoms alone, or be granted a reprieve. All you had to do was offer your body. Gambit was nowhere near the worst person to sleep with. If anything, you felt like he would be doing you a huge favor rather than doing it for his own pleasure.

“Please help me.” You caved. The trepidation weighing heavily on your mind hadn’t left, but you agreed to it anyway. This was your choice.

It didn’t feel like you were in a position to refuse.

Gambit smiled, perhaps a little too wide for someone who’s supposedly only doing this for your sake.

He slotted his lips against yours so naturally, as if loving you was his purpose. So was his hand which slipped into your pants with no hesitation at all. Meanwhile you were a bundle of nerves, so incredibly nervous and ashamed but desperate for relief.

“It’s okay,” Gambit whispered, leaning in close enough where he made your heart race. “I will help.”

****

Visiting Buried Pair was second nature to you.

It’s one of the few places in the city that prioritized your safety as much as the nonhumans. You were used to being an afterthought, but here, you knew you were safe.

You grew closer with Gambit through every conversation, and the feeling was mutual. He made you, a mere human, feel special in a world where you had to worry about those around you. You even had a feeling Gambit took security more seriously after having gotten to know you.

Gambit took good care of his friends, a group which included you. Jackpot sometimes experienced panic attacks during his shifts, but Gambit always knew how to help, it seemed, because when they returned from the back, Jackpot was his cheerful self again. He could never recall what was on his mind, but Jackpot had always been the forgetful type for as long as you’ve known him. Though sometimes you had to wonder how someone could be so unaware.

Gambit had always been good to you. You couldn’t recall otherwise.

[buriedpair]

WTFFFFF THIS IS SO AWESOME EVERYONE READ IT NOWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

[buriedpair]

edgeed..d..d,r.kdjdlkls

someone set a creature loose in my ask box. can we call this guy a cab he might be crazy

[buriedpair]

Uneven Odds

Yandere!OC x GN!Reader (Third-Person, they/them reader)

TWs: Death, cannibalism, obsessive tendencies, general yandere behavior, identity theft, mentions of drugs, drugging (kind of?). If this kind of content upsets you, do not continue.

Thoughts, feelings, or images that occur when unconscious. Aptly named dreams when positive, and nightmares when negative. This phenomenon is a feast for the polite dream eaters who are content to roam in the shadows, eating to live and never truly living. Simple. Balanced. Most won’t remember their dreams by the time they wake up without their interference anyway.

Gambit was not a polite dream eater, and he rather despised such an arbitrary guideline. If dreams are just unconscious thoughts, who’s to say he can’t eat the waking ones too?

His own memories were plentiful. He came into being a long, long time ago, his existence beginning exactly as inconsequentially as it continued. Eat dreams, wander, and eat some more. It was inevitable that he’d tire of eating the same boring meals over and over again. Couldn’t be helped.

The first time he’d tried a waking thought, it was an odd feeling. They had many different flavors. Some too sweet, causing his many teeth to ache and shift. Some bitter. Some spicy. Some cold, and some warm.

The variety was a welcome change.

He found a dysfunctional family to regularly feast upon the thoughts of. It was nice not to have to go from bedroom to bedroom, because food was plentiful when he had little morals. He became quite the binge eater, gluttonous and greedy for the worst-wishing and resentments. There wasn’t a day that went by that his appetite wasn’t sated.

It didn’t last long. Getting its thoughts eaten constantly didn’t leave a brain very functional, and all at once the family lost their minds. The twist of fate was less cruel and more dreadfully annoying. How unfortunate to have to learn restraint.

It was soon after that he met an intriguing couple. A human and a snake.

Humans were few and far between. Rare and enticing for someone as greedy as Gambit, no doubt. He wondered if he could eat the whole human at once. Eating an entire banquet in one go would no doubt leave him full for years to come, surely, and this human seemed to carry quite the variety of thoughts and feelings for the snake. It was a delectable thought.

The consumption itself was more confusing than he was prepared for. He’d expected the same as thoughts or dreams, perhaps a bit more squirm-y, but not the disgusting merging that felt like being squeezed and tugged and pushed into something that wasn’t himself.

He was disoriented for a long, confusing moment. Something that felt like his thoughts and not his thoughts at all had begun to swim, and before long, he realized he had hands, as well as legs that wanted nothing more than to follow that snake and fix what he’d so clearly broken.

Confusing. Disgusting. Convenient.

The snake, now known as Jackpot, wasn’t difficult to soothe. Eat the negative, mournful thoughts, leave him delirious indefinitely, and force him into stability that he couldn’t actually feel. At the very least, he could eat without worry, and Jackpot seemed to be quite fond of him after everything was said and done.

Things were easy again. Casinos weren’t hard to run when everyone was under contract with the threat of death. He was even admired, a reality he found himself enjoying. He had a human body with which he could discover human food, which did absolutely nothing for him nutritionally but was very entertaining. He even got into a pack of cigarettes at times. Being human was easy.

He hated when things threw wrenches in his careful constructs.

Jackpot started acting out. Small, confusing bouts of lucidity surrounding a particular individual, persistent and annoying. Gambit would eat, and the thoughts would return like a lingering stain on his perfected existence.

Annoying. Annoying. ANNOYING.

He was going to get rid of the problem. He’d stop this rebellion at the source. That person Jackpot insisted on using as a means to get back memories he shouldn’t have. That NUISANCE.

He stopped them by the shoulder when they next visited Buried Pair. They turned, confused, and his blood stopped flowing.

Perhaps it had been the countless thoughts of Jackpot’s he’d been eating. Perhaps it’d been Quincy’s, still lingering when they should’ve been long gone. Perhaps it was his own, breaking free from somewhere deep within his vile being.

“The lakeside suite is only a small upcharge. Consider it next time,” Had been the words from his lips. Unintentional and cold.

They nodded, confused, and walked off.

Part of him was tearing himself to pieces: Get rid of it! Why does this THING think it can control me?! Why was it so easy?

The other part, the same part that had chased Jackpot out of that alleyway, smiled.

Why be hasty? Exploring the unknown was how he got to where he was to begin with. What’s one more enigma?

♡⊰•˚₊‧. Thanks for reading! .‧₊˚•⊱ ♡

For your time, you get Gambit's relationship chart! Congrats!

[buriedpair]

When I'm in a ragebaiting Edge contest and my competition is Double Down and Amias 😔

yeah..... his poker face could use some work

[buriedpair]

11, 14, and 20 for Jackpot please. Love that guy

WE love that guy……. you and me 🤝

Quickest way to anger your character?

Jackpot doesn’t get angry much. Territorial or generally neurotic? Yes. Often times his initial response is to panic, not get angry.

I think the only thing that could make him truly angry is if someone convinced his lover to leave him, or manipulated their feelings for him whatsoever. Things should’ve been perfectly fine between himself and his love, so it’s both unfair and cruel to rip that away from him. He’s not mad at his partner, of course, but whatever pest decided to try and rot their perfect mind.

What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

Overall, Jackpot has relatively poor memory. Amongst a lot of cloudy memories of his past, he very vividly remembers the first time you ever made eye contact. Call it cliche, but that’s one of the only times he’d felt lucid since becoming Jackpot.

He can recall a lot of different things when he looks into his lovers eyes. It’s terrifying, but addictive.

A memory your character wishes they could erase.

Every memory Jackpot wishes he could erase is already gone for some reason. Isn’t that so odd?

[buriedpair]

How does your character communicate in a relationship?

Describe something your character is reluctant for others to know.

With Edge and Amias please 🥰

y’all love this virgin right now huh….. 0 jackpot asks and yet he won the popularity poll………

How does your character communicate in a relationship?

Edge ♧:

He does communicate in the literal sense. As in, he is verbally speaking to his lover. Tragically, most of his communication is blame and accidental gaslighting.

For example, if he’s feeling jealous, it’s because his lover is being cruel, not because he’s emotionally volatile. It’s their fault he’s angry. And now they’re angry, which is just an unnecessary escalation in his mind. How dare they.

He’ll break down if things go too far. He still won’t admit fault, but he’ll rationalize it to himself just to end the argument and keep his lover. He thinks he’s being the bigger person by doing this.

Amias ☆:

He’s horrible at communication. He can count how many people he’s had a meaningful conversation with on one hand, and it’s really only half a finger. Any turmoil is bottled up to save the only relationship he’s ever had, or expressed in an accidentally passive aggressive manner.

His communication is touch-based most of the time. He’s jealous? He grabs your arm and pulls you away from the source. He’s feeling ignored? He shoves his hands under your clothes. He’s horny? Already grinding on you.

Fights never get far with him. He’s not ashamed to cry and wail and beg on his knees, and he’s probably already forgotten what the fight was about by the time his tears dry.

Describe something your character is reluctant for others to know.

Edge ♧:

While he’s insecure about his financial status, it’s actually more troublesome for him that he was born human. People born with no “abnormal” traits are considered weak, are frequently targeted, and don’t often live very long. It’s only due to the experiments he was subjected to that he’s confident enough to be out in public at all.

Amias ☆:

The obvious answer is that he’s a virgin. Being an incubus and also an incel is one of the most embarrassing things he can imagine, and it’s his actual life. Especially because he’s tried to lose his virginity. Often.

Also, just an inch less than that, he doesn’t want any potential partners to know about his dad period. He’s worried he’ll immediately lose them to him.

[buriedpair]

CHARACTER STUDY PROMPT

Describe your character's first love.

What frightens your character?

How does your character communicate in a relationship?

How was your character's childhood like?

What is your character's favorite treat to themselves?

How does your character handle stress?

Describe something your character is reluctant for others to know.

Describe something your character is passionate about.

What does your character find comfort in?

What kind of music does your character like?

Quickest way to anger your character?

What was the best thing in your character's life?

What would your character give their life for?

What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

Does your character have a nickname? If so, how did they get it?

Who does your character consider a role model?

What is your character's hobby?

Describe your character's worst enemy.

What does your character do when they wake up?

A memory your character wishes they could erase.

Thank you to my special anon who I’ve set upon my shelf for the fun ask game YAYYYYY

pick a number (or a few) and a character (or a few) and I shall answer with my heart!!!!

[buriedpair]

do you guys have any art requests or should i draw amias with his ass out

[buriedpair]

Touched (in more ways than one)

Yandere!OC x GN!Reader (Third-Person, they/them reader)

TWs: Chud yandere, not edited bc my beta readers are asleep, obsessive tendencies, mildly sexual content, general yandere behavior. If this kind of content upsets you, do not continue.

Amias thought he ought to be studied by now.

An incubus and a virgin. It was practically unheard of! And it wasn’t for lack of trying, either. He wasn’t some blushing maiden saving himself for the perfect partner. He was just… really bad at getting people to like him. His dad called every year on his birthday to remind him he was a disappointment, then sent him a five hundred dollar check in the mail. Maybe he pitied him or something. Amias was fine with being pitied.

He inevitably got into nerdy hobbies, like any other self-respecting disgrace would.

Yu-gi-oh and Magic the Gathering were too difficult to figure out. He walked into a Pokemon tournament and gave up after losing his first match. He spent a lot of money on those booster packs, damnit. He should’ve won just by showing up. Poker was pretty easy, though. He won his first game by accident. Flipped over his cards and took home a load of good money.

It was history after that. At some point, when you jerk off ten times a day just to keep yourself alive (barely, by the way. It’s not nearly as good as a full meal, or so he’s heard.), you end up having very good dexterity in your wrists. He had access to a computer and a lot of time on his hands to study shoving cards up his sleeves.

Buried Pair wasn’t his first casino. It was kind of far from where he lived, and he usually couldn’t be arsed to drive all the way over there, though he heard they were particularly well reviewed. It wasn’t until he was caught with a few too many cards stuffed down his shirt at the places near him that he ended up biting the bullet. He had the time anyway.

It was nice. Cleaner than the casinos he frequented with a hotel to boot. Most of the staff weren't hard to look at either. 

He grew particularly intrigued by a single dealer. Edge, if he recalled, which was a stupid name. (Apparently they all needed ridiculous aliases. He actually thought it was kind of metal, but he’d never admit that aloud, because that would be lame.) The guy hated him for some reason, which made it really easy to throw off his focus when he was dealing. Just say something stupid (which he was very good at, mind you.) and he’d be entirely too busy trying not to choke him out over the table while his boss was watching to notice when he pushed a card up his sleeve.

Pretty soon, he was there all the time. The owner knew him by name, which was utterly terrifying. That man was six-foot-something with the most blank stare he’d ever seen. The kind of stare that was hiding something nefarious and also probably very arousing.

(Gambit turned him down, of course, but that didn’t stop him from asking the first time. Not the point.)

It was a nice routine overall. He was treated well by most of the staff. He bet high and usually won higher. He got free drinks and an eyeful of a very poorly buttoned shirt when he was at the table.

(Jackpot also turned him down when he asked, and then called him an idiot for thinking he had a chance to begin with. He was right, but ouch.)

He sat at the table again. Edge’s, because it was growing kind of funny to watch his face heat up with anger when he’d talk about his four cars. His cards were fine this hand, and he wondered if Edge had some kind of internal moral obligation not to stack the cards against him. Or maybe he was just afraid of Gambit, which was entirely fair in his opinion.

He was startled out of his usual poker face by a collision into his left shoulder. Someone drunk and stumbling had knocked themselves dead into him. His stool teetered precariously on one leg for a terrifying second before it toppled completely, sending himself and the mystery individual sprawled on the ground in a heap.

Blood rushed south almost instantly, because no one had ever been on top of him before. Like, in his life. It felt a lot like his first time trying weed, which was to say really really good and very confusing. He couldn’t tell if it was the contact or his head hitting the floor. He was happy regardless.

“Oops,” The stranger slurred, propping themselves up on their arms. He mourned the loss of proximity immediately, but he was way too out of it to do anything about it.

Edge helped them up, then grabbed someone else to call them a cab. He was too busy lying on the floor to get up himself, which was not at all a normal thing to be doing. It took him several minutes to even consider it.

When he finally got himself upright, his pupils dilated, hands trembling, he had very few thoughts in his head. The most prominent were two very simple observations:

“Holy shit, I just came in my pants,” and “I need them carnally.”

Which led to a very interesting predicament for Amias. He was, should he have been able to pull a single soul, a polyamorous guy until that point. Even Jackpot’s shirt pulling wrong and revealing a lot more nipple than needed (that had to be a health code violation...) did nothing for him anymore.

He didn’t mind. The memory of the body pressing him into the floor was enough material for him to get off for weeks.

His patience wasn’t infinite, though. He’d have to find them again. And he would.

No matter what it took.

☆⊰•˚₊‧. Thanks for reading! .‧₊˚•⊱ ☆

For your time, you get Amias' relationship chart! Congrats!

[buriedpair]

Hi I’m still alive I promise. Amias fic someday wait for me

who’s your favorite

Edge

Amias

DD

Jackpot

Gambit

Voting ended onJun 12

[buriedpair]

I LOVE SASUKE SO MUCH PLEASMAAAASEEEEEE I MPOVE HIM MOOMMMM I LBOENENMHKM

you sent this anonymously like i wouldnt know who you were. who else calls Edge Sasuke

im spraying you with a spray bottle rn

[buriedpair]

hello my sweetest best friend of ever.... the. the casino. what is going on with how they treat their workers sniffles why won't they pay my beautiful girlfriend edge more </33.....

please give him a raise :((((

hello my evil best friend who i loathe and have a very long and storied rivalry with….

While everyone at the casino is employed in the sense that they work there and are paid, they’re all actually under contract. The contract pretty plainly states that Gambit is going to hunt them down if they stop working there also.

Working conditions are fine overall. They have insurance coverage and PTO and sick time, but their wages have to be formally negotiated. Edge isn’t nearly as bold as DD or Jackpot are, so he has the lowest pay.

Also, Gambit just doesn’t like him as much.

tl;dr; why dont you pay his bills HUH??? if you love him sooooo much. loser

i also just realized i dont have a tag for general lore anymore…….. haha its #buriedpairlore now

[buriedpair]

I just saw Edge's relationship chart and it made me giggle how he's not a big fan of everyone except for Gambit. I remember Edge being one of my favorites back then! I'm also so excited for your blog and I'm so happy you're back!

edge is one of my favorite revamps for real!!!!

everyone annoys him but gambit is just so nonchalant and beautiful and smart HOWWW could he hate him (me too)

[buriedpair]

I love your ocs and it's so great to see them again!! 🥺

It’s so great to see YOUUUU again anon. im so excited to drop everyones origin blurbs i think you guys will loooove them

[buriedpair]

Apple of a Blind Eye

Yandere!OC x GN!Reader (Third-Person, they/them reader)

TWs: Death, Kind of cannibalism (a guy gets eaten), obsessive tendencies, general yandere behavior. If this content upsets you, do not continue.

Jackpot never had too much to offer a cold world. His mother cried when he was born scaled instead of soft-skinned like her, because snakes aren’t beautiful. They’re vile, slithering tricksters. She couldn’t hold him. She hated him the moment he opened his eyes, fearful of all the things he didn’t understand.

She couldn’t look at him, and there wasn’t much he could do for himself. His smiles weren’t particularly endearing, and his skin would peel when it got too warm out. He had the eyes of a hunter, and it certainly would’ve been more convenient if he actually was one. At least then there would’ve been a plate on the table for him along with his six beautiful older siblings.

He lived by avoidance. No one could scream at the sight of his slitted pupils if he wasn’t spotted at all, and no one could catch him if he was the fastest runner. Hopping fences was easy, and scraping your knees hurt less every time.

He regularly wished he was a cute kid, but at least he was smart. He grew older. He got jobs. He learned what lies sounded like and how it felt to be cut by a silver tongue. He went on dates that felt more like performances and never once understood what love was.

It wasn’t until he met Quincy that things started to feel less empty. He knew what to say to make Jackpot flood with warmth. His eyes were soft when they gazed upon him, untainted and kind. He never cared for Jackpot’s flaws, because Quincy’s flaws were far more diabolical.

He was human. Humans are weak. Humans don’t survive because they shouldn’t.

Jackpot watched the thing devour him. It was little more than slimy, ink black appendages and thousands of mouths that swallowed flesh and bone and a heart that was supposed to beat for Jackpot and now didn’t beat at all.

It looked at him with eyes that drooped, many of them. Different colors and shapes and sizes. It was beautiful, in a morbid way. Though, probably only because Jackpot himself didn’t understand beauty.

It slid across the concrete with a gross sccchlick sound, and Jackpot ran. He stumbled and cried out like a scraped knee could even hurt anymore, then struggled against the trembling in his own body to get back to his feet. A hand encircled his wrist, he turned back to scream, but the eyes that stared at him were the same he’d been staring longingly into for so long.

“...Quincy?” He whispered, voice pitched too high.

A pause. They stood like that in the middle of the sidewalk on an empty night. A streetlight flickered nearby. The wind whistled like a death knell.

“If that’s what you want to call me,” The man replied in the familiar rasp, though the words sounded more like air than voice. “Though such a common label cannot define me.”

Jackpot stared. The thing wearing Quincy’s skin stared back.

“You’re in pain,” It continued, apparently realizing Jackpot wasn’t trying to share a friendly conversation. “I will help.”

“It’s just a scratch,” Jackpot blurted out, because he wanted to run until his legs gave out.

“Your physical wounds don’t concern me,” Its grip tightened around his wrist. “Stay calm. Don’t breathe.”

Jackpot didn’t remember what happened after that. He woke up feeling much better, exactly where he belonged at Quincy’s side. Did it really matter if Quincy didn't act the same? No. Nothing mattered anymore. There was no pain to speak of. There were no scraped knees or peeling skin or crying mothers.

Every ache was replaced with that blank stare. Quincy was to be trusted implicitly, because why wouldn’t he be? When he offered him the title of Jackpot, it was a gift that would be valued more than the universe itself. A shitty name given by a rotten mother who wept in hatred of her son was worthless anyway.

Quincy taught him to live, and everything after that was just collateral. Bartending came easy, and charisma was so much more natural when nothing at all could break him down. The casino was a rippling success, and Quincy–No, Gambit now–was the center of it all.

Things were normal. Anything abnormal was promptly forgotten about because it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Living life in a haze was easy, why make it difficult?

It wasn’t his decision to make when the fog cleared.

He only met someone’s gaze. They were asking where the nearest bathroom was located, muttering something about how annoyingly large the place was. He didn’t answer, because how could he when the eyes he was staring into were so familiar. 

“Soft,” He choked out before conscious thought had any time to reach him.

“What?” They replied, blinking at him. Jackpot wished they’d stop blinking. He couldn’t see their eyes through their eyelids.

“Walk straight that way, then turn left when you get to the check-in counter,” He forced the words out and gestured, though internally he was begging them not to look away at all.

“Uh… yeah, thanks,” They nodded, and then they were gone, and Jackpot along with them.

Something snapped. He was torn between the pleasant disconnect he was familiar with by now and the very real memory of their eyes meeting his own.

Soft. Soft. Soft. Soft. Soft.

He didn’t fancy himself a stalker, it just ended up that way. He’d accidentally be where they were, all smiles and flirtatious banter, until they excused themself and he began counting seconds until next time their eyes met again.

He’s not creepy, he just needs to remember. Everything would be fine as long as those eyes remained on his.

♢⊰•˚₊‧. Thanks for reading! .‧₊˚•⊱♢

For your time, you get Jackpot's relationship chart! Congrats!