- these took me a bit longer to find than anticipated, so I thought I would post them here as well for ease of future users
- with the last three, I could only find this artwork with high resolution or transparency, not both. So, I included both of the originals (under the cut), as well as my attempt at a quick render of the hd one. It was a bit tricky with the lace ;^^
Źį“É“į“ į“Źį“ ŹÉŖį“Ź Źį“Ź x Źį“į“į“ į“Ź
The air in the private academyās library tasted of old paper, expensive leather, and the suffocating arrogance of generational wealth.
To Rican, the world had never been a complex web of human emotion or shared struggle. It was a ladder where everything and everyone was either beneath his feet or hoisted above his head.
He, naturally, existed on the highest of the high.
Born with what he fondly referred to as the holy trinity of existenceāattractiveness, charisma that border-lined on hypnotic, and an amount of money that could buy a small nationāhe had never once encountered the concept of difficulty.
The word "struggle" was a foreign sequence of vowels that simply did not apply to his universe.
And it definitely didn't apply for school either, not when it was like his personal playground.
His father had personally financed entire sports complexes and academic clubs just to ensure Ricanās boredom was kept at bay.
Life was flawless, a golden path laid out before him, except for one tiny thing.
Romantic interest.
Women flung themselves at his feet daily, but a quick, meaningless hookup was all he could muster.
And of course Rican took it upon himself to make it a mission to find someone who could be more than a hookup. (someone who could MAYBE give him a high-five trust)
His first attempt at finding love had been an utter disaster. It ending within thirty seconds when the girlās voice proved to be a fraction too shrill for his ears, causing him to walk away mid-sentence without a backward glance.
The second target had shown promise until he cast his eyes downward and noticed the scuffed, criminanal sight of her off-brand loafers.
The mere sight of such poverty had induced a physical wave of nausea, forcing him to cross her off his list immediately.
But of course Rican was nothing if not persistent. Third time's the charm, right?
That was when his gaze had drifted to the back of your head.
You were cute, undeniable, but Rican didn't just want a dollāhe wanted a prize that felt worthy of his high status.
To test the waters, he had casually slipped a crisp bill into the teacher's palm, ensuring that the seating chart for the semester's most intensive research project was altered.
The investment paid off instantly. Over the first few days, he discovered you were genuinely funny, easy to talk to, and possessed a face that perfectly aligned with his exact aesthetic preferences.
You, however, viewed the entire arrangement through a lens of profound skepticism.
You weren't naive. You knew how wealthy boys functioned.
So of course, you expected him to be arrogant, you expected him to be detached, and you fully expected him to eventually try and pawn all the project's actual research off on you.
What you did not expect, under any circumstances, was the warp-speed at which his brain apparently operated.
By the third day of the project, the casual banter had completely vanished, replaced by an intense, suffocating focus that made your skin prickle.
He could scoot closer to you, and stare at you even when you weren't speaking. It was becoming to the point where you were more shocked if he wasn't staring into your soul.
It was all little things just added up to eachother, like him cleaning the eraser dust off your lap faster than you could or him paying for your bus ride home and even more money so you could buy some food. (You never mentioned how you take the bus)
Then came the fourth day, and with it, the absolute pinnacle of his delusion.
He slid a gourmet bento box across the table toward youāa daily ritual he had aggressively started since the first day of pairing upābefore leaning forward on his elbows.
His face was a picture of serene, absolute certainty as he uttered the words that made your entire brain grind to a screeching halt.
"How much for you to date me?"
You immediately froze.
"What?"
You weren't opposed to the concept of financial security, and like anyone else, you enjoyed the idea of having money. But just the sheer audacity of someone trying to buy you like a piece of livestock was completely uncalled for.
He didn't even look ashamed. He just sat there in his expensive chair, a massive, triumphant grin spreading across his face as if he had just offered you the deal of a lifetime, entirely blind to the look of sheer confusion freezing your features.
"Yes, like to have you," Rican clarified effortlessly, his voice dripping with a casual nonchalance that only made the situation a hundred times worse.
He leaned in a bit closer, his eyes bright with a terrifyingly possessive spark. "Preferably forever, and chained wrist to wrist to me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" You looked around frantically, half-expecting a hidden camera crew to jump out from behind the fiction section, but there was nobodyājust Rican and his completely unhinged, romantic delusions.
His smile only widened at your reaction, his head tilting to the side as he analyzed your expression with a creepy, clinical fascination.
"Your eyes look pretty, they're big right now," he mused, his voice dropping to a soft, delighted purr. "Is it because you're scared, or maybe excited? I really hope it's the second option."
"Rican, we've literally only known each other for like four days!" you hissed, leaning across the table to whisper-yell, desperately trying to keep your voice down so the librarian wouldn't wander over.
"What are you talking about? Dating? Where did that even come from?" You were genuinely baffled by the absolute lack of self-awareness.
How did rich people navigate the world so completely blind to the discomfort of others? How could he look at your pale, horrified face and see a green light for marriage proposals?
"Yeah, dating then marriage," he replied instantly, nodding his head as if he were explaining a very simple, chronological timeline to a child.
"Or we could just go straight to marriage and babies. But my tutor said it's more normal to become boyfriend and girlfriend first, so I'm trying to do it the traditional way."
You just stared at him. The sheer gravity of his insanity left you entirely speechless.
"I'll give you a weekly salary," he blurted out, misinterpreting your stunned silence as dissatisfaction with the terms.
You stared even more, your mouth slightly open, completely incapable of processing the words coming out of his mouth.
"Daily! Daily, instead?" he corrected frantically, his composure fracturing just a fraction as he leaned further over the table, his hands gripping the wood, desperate to seal the deal.
Your continued silence seemed to throw him into a spiral of panic, his mind incapable of understanding why a human being wouldn't immediately capitulate to the power of his wallet.
"Hourly?" he offered, his breath hitching.
"Every minute?" Rican pleaded, his voice dropping to a desperate, pathetic whine as he reached out, his fingers twitching with the urge to grab your hands.
"Please, I just need you."
eisnewisnshe any new requests yall omg this has been laying in my drafts for like more than 5 months
and also guys I'm kinda in writer's block idk so I'm sorry if this is bad !! I tried my best and hopefully next post is better !! <33
A/N: this one's smutty, just a subpar drabble for this character. Been trying to figure out how I wanted to approach him finally sleeping with reader.
"Oh, quit your whining..." an irritated voice mumbles against you throat, in between quick nips and small bites. "I mean really, with our chemistry? Not to mention the raw sexual energy I have-" Another nip. "It was bound to happen."
"Just- stop rubbing it in." You huff back, legs rubbing together in anticipation. You'd tried to hold out, but it wasn't even possible to pleasure yourself, he would know. You don't know how, but you can sense he would know. And he'd either lord it over you and guilt you about it. "This is purely because I need... need some kind of outlet."
He scoffs. "Puh-lease. Of course its something you need, everything you need, you get from me now. Staying in this house, groceries, food, entertainment. All because I allow it." He gloats, sitting up a bit to pull the remaining fabric on your body off your lower. "So it just makes sense eventually I'd have to give you good dick too. Human and their lust! I tell you what-"
"Stop it!" You exclaim, pushing him of. "God you just- ugh! Why do you have to be such a dick about this, you make it sound like I'm giving myself to you or something, its just sex."
"Yeah, sex, which at this point, I frankly feel like I deserve!" He holds out his hands as if flabbergasted. "Again, I do everything for you-"
"I didn't ask you to! You kill my husband, take my home, and you have the audacity to act like I should just bend over for you!"
"Well it couldn't hurt!" He insists, crossing his hands like a petulant toddler. "Enough pushing me off and bitching, are we gonna do this or not? I'm rock hard and I'd like to deal with it sometime in the next millenia."
You just go quiet, rubbing at your temples. "I don't know! Is it not possible I'm unsure how I feel about fucking me ex-husbands killer, my captor, in our bed?"
"It's a yes or no." He retorts.
"I said I don't know!" You yell again, this time actually carrying your anguish across. "I don't know..." Your face sinks into your hands.
This gives the demon man before you pause. He was excited, for a fun, sexy night with the mortal he'd been hanging around with. But... he doesn't like seeing you like this. Torn up, confused. He supposes, if he wants this done, he'll have to make the idea of giving in more palatable.
As you just lay there, sullen, he leans back over you, pecking instead of nibbling. A kiss on your jaw, then a longer one at your neck. "I bet he wasn't good."
"What?"
"In bed. You said he was always off fucking some other lady, or drunk and tired from work. He couldn't have been that good."
It's true, he really wasn't. But back then you could at least take care of your own needs when he was gone.
"What's something you always wanted to try?" He asks.
"What?"
This prompts him to roll his eyes. "You and your questions, sexually. What's something you wanted to try sexually?"
He hates the way the slightest bit of caring or probing seems to make you relax, considering him now. If your husband had done that bare minimum, maybe you would still be mourning him.
"Well... I- it's gross." You start.
"Okay, keep going. I'm from hell, you haven't seen gross till a weekend trip to the lust ring."
You don't even want to imagine what he's referencing. "He never liked to go down there... you know?"
He pauses, then scoffs. "That's it? Your big horny secret, no one ever ate you out? Yeah, I can handle that."
Before you can say much, his lips are on your thigh, back to nibbling. You can't help the shaky sigh that slips from your lips, swallowing harshly. "What's it gonna feel like?" You ask.
"I don't know, I don't have a pussy?" He says, like it's the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "It's gonna be a hell of a ride, but I'm not gonna hurt you, if that's what you're worried about. It's gonna feel good." You could always mistake the way his hand pets your thigh for care.
A spark re-ignites in you the moment you feel lips meet that bud between your legs, inciting a gasp from you. "Ah- shit-" you hiss out, head tilting back.
"Taste so fucking good." He groans, placing another kiss before licking a strip up the length of your cunt. "He never did this for you, no. He couldn't handle pussy this good-" he's alternating between rambling and lapping like a man starved. For a demon, this appears to be the closest he can get to worship.
It's not long before you can feel that familiar knot forming down below, anf you instinctively go to grip his hair, slightly rubbing the nub of his horns. "Izzy-" both the touch and the nickname urge him on, you can feel the jackal like grin against your cunt as he continues his pace. "Izechiel- fuck- I'm finishing- pleaseplease don' stop, don't tease- shit!" You cry out, the waves of pleasure rolling over you as your muscles tense, then relax instinctively. Hands grips the sheets, as the man above looks the most devilish he has since you met him.
"Good?" He asks, after the heat of your orgasm has faded. "Good." You respond.
"A kiss for your don juan?" He asks, leaning towards your lips.
"Ah-" you pull away a bit. "Not... like that. Not yet?"
He pauses, then shrugs, licking the taste of you off his lips. "What, too freaky?" He snickers. "We'll work on it."
"We can... you can fuck me. I'm wet and... it felt good. With you." You blurt, before going red. It's embarrassing to beg this smug asshole for more, but you do want it. And for once, he was downright generous with his mouth mere moments ago.
"Yeah? You want daddy to make you feel good, huh?"
"We're not doing that-"
"Yes we are, I ate you out, this is my thing. My request. Your my wife, and I'm daddy." You honestly can't tell if his kink is humiliating you by making you call him this, or if it's genuinely what he's into. Maybe its both?
He wastes no time, sliding himself out from those damn white slacks, and boxers follow. He's a decent size, and he's just as well groomed below as he is up top. Clean shaven- except for a small patch of well shaped dark brown hair. All things considered, it's pretty. Red and thin. You guess you've been looking for too long, as now he's getting cocky.
"You want me to give you two some privacy?" He snickers. You roll your eyes, as he leans over you. "Come on, lemme kiss you-" he's earnest in his kiss, it feels... good. So good it's sort of scary. It's tingly and hot, but you can feel the genuine yearning in it now. He really has been wanting this, not just this. You.
"I don't wanna rush this, but m'so fucking stiff. You think you're wet enough for me to slide in?" You nod, but glance at your dresser. "Yeah- do we need a condom? Can you even-"
"Nah, don't think so. Probably not." He doesn't seem sure, but he also doesn't seem to care to give you an honest answer. "Gonna give you the tip, okay? Just relax-"
You hiss, the intrusion slightly foreign, but it's not long till that familiar warmth returns, as he works in inch by inch. "Feels incredibly, fucking finally." He half laugh, half moans, as he pistons himself in and out.
"Fuck, Izechiel-"
"Daddy." He corrects. Now you're sure its both. "Say it baby, come on, please. I hate begging, you know that."
"Fine... daddy. Faster, please?" He moans, loud and honestly slutty, before he speeds uo without a word.
"Pussy's so good, been waiting to get in you for so long. Closest to heaven a-a fucker like me's gonna get." His tip brushes your spot slightly, causing him to angle to hit it once more. Your moans spur on his ramblings. "So good- gonna cum in you, Kay? Fuck, just hold still and lemme fill you up-"
"You're sure you won't get me pregnant?" You moan out, knowing full well you won't let him pull out now.
"Probably not? I don't know, not important right now, FUCK-" His cock convulses, and you can feel his warmth filling you up, as your orgasm soon follows.
It's not long after you've cleaned yourself up, that you realized the one similarity he does share with your old husband. He's sleepy after sex. He doesn't need to sleep as a demon, so you've never seen him truly tired. Maybe you're rubbing off on him, though, because he's laying in your bed, looking truly wiped out.
He manages to drag himself slightly over you, an arm around your waist, mumbling something about "turning that damn ceiling fan off-"
You can't bring yourself to push him off, or be annoyed. Despite yourself, for the first night in a long time, you feel fulfilled. Cared after.
Would Izechiel celebrate christmas? :3 i want the imps to open presents :P <3
ITS CHRISTMASSSSSSS EVE YAAAAAAAY
(Time for the Whore-ibly hot Yan oc Xmas special! The boarding school guys will have a separate post! Absolutely everyone is here, as far back as the Yan!Cultists and Yan!Best-friend. This is my ultimate holiday crossover post.)
How do the Yans celebrate the holidays?
Yan!Farmer (Joey): Obviously, Joey adores the holidays, his whole family works hard to prepare meals, decorate, and make homemade gifts for the Christmas party gift swap. Joey has the siblings knit, sew, cook, anything he can think of to pile gifts up under the tree. The town also has a big Christmas market; and he's sure to drag you their and not so subtly stuff bags with goodies. 'No peeking!' He'll insist.
"Come on, just put it on?" He begs, showing you the wooliest, ugliest, itchiest looking sweater you've ever seen. There's a little pigeon in a Christmas hat on it, your name embroidered below. "It's a pigeon, cause uh- cities full of em' right? And you're from there. It's silly, but we all get an animal one. My ma made it, only thing she wants for Christmas is to see you in it." Only thing he wants too, but that's neither here nor there.
The ball is a dream, he gets you the warmest formal outfit, him and Johannes in green, with Holly upon the young man's lapel. You are donned in red, dancing with both your husband and sweet Johannes all the night long.
"This is... everything, sir." Johannes says, the pair watching you step away from the dance floor to grab some punch. "She is radiant." Fritz nods in agreement, taking a sip. "That she is. You're looking very well yourself, boy. The service has done you well, I think we both deserve this winter break. Now," He leans in. "Go fetch our loves first gift of the night? I should think you're as eager as I to give it to her." Johannes nods, scurrying off to grab the rather... festive undergarments he found in a shop window.
Yan!Bully and loser (Patrick and Ahmed): Ahmed comes from wealth, a family with expectations, guarded and elitist. It's not unlikely you won't be able to spend Christmas eve or the day of with him. But he'll do whatever you want leasing up to it. Hanging out with Patrick? Great, he'll have you all go to a bakery, hot cocoa on him! And gifts, so many gifts. He knows allllll about you, let him provide you with little knick-knacks from your favorite shows, supplies for your hobbies, whatever you want! He knows you are more Patrick's friend than his, and you're barely close with Patrick. But thoughtful gifts are the one thing he knows he can't screw up. He's more than happy to be your pay-pig, if only to see you smile.
Patrick doesn't really have a family, at least not one he cares to talk about. He follows you around, so while he doesn't care too much about the holidays, any Christmas stuff you do he'll tag along for. He has almost no gift money, but anything he sees you like he'll pass along to Ahmed, and small things he'll just shoplift. He finds his guilty pleasure is shitty holiday movies, he likes to mock the acting and saying that those movies aren't anything but 'low budget porn without any banging'. Still, he's happy to crash at yours the day of, despite how uncomfortable you and your family may be. Get him a gift, and out it under that big ol' tree, cause he's not leaving.
"Ah- yep! Just what you wanted, I sae you had the pre-order wait list up on your phone one day, so happy early Christmas. There's more to come." Ahmed stutters, having approached you at your locker and shoved a wrapped box in your hand. As odd as the boy is, it's odder he dropped this much money on you. "What'd you get for me, freak?" Patrick says, having wrapped his arm around you the moment you left your class. Ahmed lets out a slightly annoyed whine, pulling a concealed shooter of cinnamon whiskey, no doubt from some shitty gas station, from his sleeve. "Oh shit- sweet. Thanks." Patrick downs it in full view of everyone in the hall; tossing the plastic bottle into your locker to your horror. "Happy holidays."
Yan!Mean girls (Maggie, Sasha, Lindsey): It's time to have a blowout Christmas party, and get white girl wasted. (As white girl wasted as Sasha can get, she's actually Indian. Her real name is Saachi, but she found it easier to just change it when she joined the clique. Not like anyone at this small town school was able to spell her real name anyways.) Maggie's dad always throws a huge, glamorous Christmas event at his place for all his work associates and friends, so Maggie is sure to swipe some peppermint schnapps and invite over the girls. You're all holed up in her room, making Christmas cocktails and watching holiday Rom coms. There's a small gift exchange, supposedly anonymous, but you know Sasha put herself in charge of Maggie's gift, ever remaining in her favor.
"Wow, this is so pretty!" You gasp, removing the shiny new bracelet from its elegant, if not haphazard wrapping. "I spent like, soooo long trying to decide where to get it, I'm so glad you like it! Yay!" Lindsey chirps; just for the other two to look up from their gifts and groan. "Lindsey you're like, not supposed to say it was you who got the gifts! That so ruins it!" Maggie scolds. "It's SECRET santa." She reminds. "But it wasn't santa, it was me?" This illicits a laugh from Sasha, and another deep eye roll from Maggie.
Maggie also uses this holiday (and her current issues with her boyfriend Shane), as an excuse to smooch up on you and the others when she gets tipsy. Mistletoe rules, of course.
Yan!Dictators Heir (Feliz): His father is far too busy with public displays and Christmas events to raise the morale of the country to spend much time with either of you during the holidays, not that you'd want that. Feliz intends to make the most of it, despite your reluctance. He'll have you try all the traditional holidays foods of his country, take you on little holiday trips (with an escort, of course), to beaches and landmarks. If you're missing snow and the cold, he's sure to show you a tropical Christmas can be just as festive. He has fond memories, however brief, of Christmas with his mom. He wants to make new memories with you. He insists on calling off the servants and decorating his fathers large tree himself, with your aid. After a couple hours and a needed later, he lets the servants handle the rest. He has a thing with heights.
It can be hard to get certain imports from blacklisted countries, but he's the son of the leader. No gift is off limits for you, Feliz will make sure you get whatever you desire. Except your freedom.
"It must be hard," He mumbles, hanging a silly beaded ornament he made as a bow from the bow of a large imported pine. "To be far from your family this holiday. But know I, I will do whatever you want to make it up to you." He swallows, awkwardly reaching for your hand. "Let me be your family for this Christmas. Please? No father, no titles, no-" He flinches at the memory of your last 'intimate' encounter. "No need for intimacy. Just a nice holiday. You and me." He's once against sinking into delusion to protect himself. "Feliz Navidad, bonita."
Yan!Boxer (Mattias): Mattias fucking loves the holidays, no other way to put it. His mom's cooking, and everyone is getting him stuff? What's not to like? Not to mention, he gets a few good days rest since everyone is too busy for boxing in the week of Christmas. He's been saving the last few months, and the majority of his gifts are stuff for your guys new townhouse. Some furniture, some 'sissy' candles his sister recommended, even a dart board. The dart board may be for him more than you, but 'su casa es mi casa'.
He'll drag you out to take some of his nieces and nephews to the park to see Santa, repeatedly dropping hints about the gift he wants next Christmas.
"Next christmas, only gift I want is to see a plump lil' version of you or me on the fat man's lap? Yeah?" You have to giggle and gently elbow him to get him off your neck, nibbling away in broad daylight. "Cmon, Mami. Tell me you'll give me an early present when we get back to the house? I'll let you unwrap me-" Another firm jab to his gut. "Alright, alright! We'll just make some Abuelitas when we get back, and watch some shitty Hallmark. Damn." He adores you.
Yan!Handymen (Tucker and Bill): Bill is a sentimental christmas guy, his momma always has them over for Christmas, the whole redneck family squeezing into her double wide trailer. Some of his best memories are shooting cans off a fence with his cousins and tunneling in the snow. Sitting on his mommas lap (he still would if he knew he wouldn't crush her), and opening gifts. He loves the domestic feeling of it.
As per their usual contrast, Tucker is a total grinch. He never had much of a family environment growing up, and thinks the whole holiday is some commercial scam. He thought it was bad enough dealing with Billy's childlike wonder, but now they got a girlfriend to drag along to holiday stuff. Jesus. He'll get you a gift, but don't expect him to make cookies. He'll watch a raunch christmas comedy or a slapstick classic like Home Alone (He loves the wet-bandits), but if you wanna bake cookies or do some frilly shit, go find Billy.
"Come on, Tucker! Don't be a grinch, help us decorate the tree! It's a tradition!" Billy whines, lugging a heavy green tub of ornaments from the back of the coat closet. "Tradition? You picked that tree up on sale from the lots shit bin of baby trees. We've never done this 'Better homes and Gardens' shit before." Tucker grumbles, waving him off and refocusing on the game on tv. Billy just rolls his eyes. "Course I got a bargain tree, we're poor. Not to mention, this little fella has personality, ain't you ever seen Charlie brown?" He gives you a smile, handing you the star. "Need a lift to the top of the tree, little lady?" The tree is hardly big enough to need a 'lift', but who are you to refuse.
Yan!princes (Secundus and Octavian): Christmas, as with everything they do, is nothing but a competition. Two men trying to win you over without any real understanding of just relaxing during the holidays. Holidays were extra tense in their family, more relatives in one palace just meant more potential targets, people vying for the throne.
Secundus takes you out for experiences. Surely you want the greatest gift of all, to spend time with his charming and caring self. He sees himself as something of a genius, combining his gift with an opportunity to grow closer with you? What a genius he is. Go to a tree lighting, see how good he is with the denizens of your kingdom. Take him to a christmas ball, and see how perfect you look at his side amongst the other nobles. But for his own sake, please pretend not to see him lingering around doorways, pretending to casually lean under some mistletoe in the hopes you'll stroll through.
Octavian takes a subtler, more personal approach as usual. He'll observe you through the months, intent on finding a gift that truly suits you. Something hand made, heartfelt. Perhaps a perfume from his personal apothecary table, or a rare bloom you've wanted for your garden for some time. He figures the thought will when you over more than any peacocking around town at his brothers side.
"If you're quite done with whatever... this is," Octavian waves a hand towards the rather horrendous looking attempt at a gingerbread house that sits before Secundus. The cocky second born had insisted he show you his expert design skills, before quickly making a home not even fit for a wild squirrel. "I'd like a moment of our ladies time." This illicits a hiff rom Secundus, who despite his want to keep you here, desperately needs a reprieve from his embarrassment. "Yes, yes, fine. But hurry back, my darling. I'll conquer this construction yet." The moment his brother has whisked you away, he's snapping for the royal chefs to sweep away and replace his mess with a lovely cookie creation. Surely you won't notice.
Yan!Fae (Puck and Oberon): The fae court does not typically partake in holidays of the Christian or pagan faith, but the celebration of winter solstice and the changing of seasons is just as big for the fae and christmas is to others. Oberon is rather busy with the changing of the seasons and shifting of nature, so expect Puck to be in charge of entertaining you until the evening time, when Oberon returns and needs terribly to blow off some steam.
Most of the grander fae celebrations, Oberon attends with his wife, so expect to be Puck's guest. Let him spin you till your dizzy among twirling snowflakes, and hold your flushed rosy cheeks between his thin hands. He'll slip little fae treats of nutmeg and glove between your lips and whisper about the nobles in attendance of the festivities.
"Aw, my sweet little mortal. You're first solstice in the palace; how exciting. It is always an honor for dear puck to be your first." He snickers. "His majesty knows Puck's been your first in many other things to." He slings an arm around your flushed form, pecking your cheek. He follows your gaze over to a rather bored Oberon, sat upon the throne with a glaring Titania. Puck sighs, but strokes your hair. "Worry not, his majesty won't leave you in the cold on this winters night." He jokes, rather proud of his own pun. "He will warm his bed with you and Puck yet, you've only till tonight to wait. After the frustrations of the coming seasons preparations, he's particularly..." Puck kisses the shell of your ear. "Voracious." You shiver, and the thin fae retreats with glee. "Aw, shivering? I'll fetch you some warm ale, mortal pet. Don't wander!"
Yan!Best Friend Yandere (Carl): Carl's entire family is dirt poor, and christmas has always been pretty simple for them. One or two gifts for the younger siblings, some clothes or a fast food gift card for the older kids, then Chinese takeout and everyone splitting up to do there own thing. It's no different now that you're here, but Carl enjoys having a partner to spend that alone time with. Cuddle up to him and watch some rom-coms, let him get you little red and white striped knick-knacks from the convenience store.
Bonus points if you include Carl in your families celebrations. He'll be awkward, no doubt, but you attempting to include him is all the gift he really needs. Its funny to watch him try to act a little more formal around your folks, but he does his best. Even brings some flowers he ripped uo from a neighbors garden as a host gift.
"Just wanted to say thanks." He mumbles from above, your head limp on his shoulder while the low rumble of a christmas special plays on tv. "S' been a really special christmas with you. My best friend, my babe. Makes me worry I ain't doing enough. You want more presents? I'm no sugar daddy; but I'll work something out." He laughs, looking down at your sleepy form. "Or maybe I'll give you the gift of shutting up and letting you sleep."
Yan-Gamer (Lewis): Assuming you two are still friends at this point, he'll load you up on arcade gifts and gifts from your favorite pop culture media. All those dumb millennial socks with Pac-man or goonies on them? Coffee cups that say 'Gaming fuel'? That's Lewis's bag.
As far as celebrations go, he's not afraid to rely on you to invite him to things. He used to hate winter break, because once he ran out of arcade money, he'd have to go home. He can't stand it there, its both suffocating and deeply isolating. He may not be dating you, but you're his best friend, and spending the holidays in your home; with your family, fuels his obsession. He can pretend he's a welcome boyfriend, sitting with his partner and swapping quick christmas cuddles. So much domesticity he might melt.
Just like his retro games, he adores classic holiday movies. Christmas Story, Home Alone, Elf, National Lampoon, he'll grab up every vhs tape from his place. "What do you mean you don't have a vhs player?"
"Did you know, uh, the house they used for home alone, is the same house decorated for christmas in the end of 'Planes, trains, and automobiles'?" He says, spouting yet another movie fact. "Just a neat thing I noticed. It's... awesome to have someone to watch these movies with. Did I tell you that?" Luckily, you're to focused on the film to be disteacted by the yearning in his eyes. Maybe next year.
Yan!Cultist (Joshua and Gabriel): The Cult doesn't celebrate christmas, having their own set of holidays and practices. They have a celebration of the coming of winter, mostly to appease the members who remembered christmas from before the cult.
While Gabriel doesn't believe in the giving of gifts, finding it a waste of resources, he allows the giving of small things. After his holiday sermon, he'll extend his greetings to you, perhaps lessening your chores or leaving a slightly warmer blanket in your quarters.
Joshua uses it as a chance to prove his claim to you, gifting you something knitted he demanded one of the girls make for him. He gives it to you under the guise of 'ensuring you don't freeze', but everyone knows his signature color is red, and that pretty little shawl matches his fiery locks. It's meant to send a message.
"God's above, just hold still-" Joshua rather roughly grabs your shoulder, stilling you as he gently ties the warm wool around your neck, adjusting the shawl. "How you've made it this long, I'll never know. Now, come. Gabriel doesn't like a tardy follower. And take... take my hand. Wouldn't want you to slip in the ice and dirty yourself." He quickly ushers you outside, hoping the flush on his cheeks will be written off by the cold.
Yan!Ex-Husbands boss (Morgan): A luxurious christmas, he'll take you to the most christmas-y places you can think of. A chalet in the Alps, or perhaps a penthouse in Germany to see the markets. Wherever you want to go, he'll take you.
When you request simple; domestic things like making cookies or donating to a toy drive, his heart only swells more. He adores the domestic side of you, the one your husband never tended to you. He'll play the part of a lovely husband.
"What a mess you are," He snickers, going to wipe the frosting from your cheek, only to playfully swipe more on. "How absolutely gross you're going to be after this. At least you taste sweet." He kisses your forehead. "Not that you don't usually. Lucky for you, I've got a nice bath drawn upstairs for you, I'll grab the iPad and put on a movie while we soak, and address... this." He feels a cold swipe of cream on his face now. "Little minx!"
Yan!Co-worker (Zach): Once again, you're both broke, but all the bad weather means that both of you get snowed in pretty frequently. Watching movies and munching on take out, Zach can't imagine anything better. He's not much for holidays, but he'd never turn down time with his favorite fuck-buddy.
When the snow doesn't come down hard enough, and you have to drag your sorry asses to work, he enjoys helping yo decorate the pizza place for christmas. Not to mention, he likes to make fun of the mushy couples who come in for holiday dates, making kissy noises in your ear like a middle schooler.
"Oh, Dwayne, your so hot and ripped. Thanks for spending your big paycheck on taking me to get shitty pizza-" He speaks in a high-pitched tone, mocking of a girl voice, as he folds a calzone in the back. He grins when he can hear you snicker from the register. Deep down, he knows no amount of snark will make his eagerness to do just what that couple is doing with you subside.
Yan!Barbarian (Baghatur): Baghatur's people have their own customs; but he's more than delighted to share in yours as well. He'll admit, he's not a fan of a mystical man in red breaking into your palace, sneaking into the home of him and his bride. However, you seem to thinks it's normal, so he will try not to club the snow-haired man, should he see him.
He adores the decorating, its a perfect time to flex he can be just as sensible and elegant as any noble. See, a whole wreath of antlers and furs, gorgeous, expensive! And handmade, the best sort of gift. Let him cut you down a giant pine, and watch as he insists he and his beast of a horse haul it himself. He is to be your husband, and he can provide!
"No-no! Call off guards, bride!" He yells, girthy arms struggling to push the large log, feet sliding across the snow. "Great khan like me need only arms and grit to provide tree of christmas. Patience is virtue, yes?" This could be a while, but the effort is charming.
Yan!Demon and Imps (Izechiel and the boys): You'd think, being a demon, he wouldn't celebrate a Christian holiday. However, its quite the opposite. He explains it's a time of corporate greed; of companies making shitty AI ads to sell soda and people fighting over dolls in stores. Drunken holiday fights AND shitty weather. No, the consumerist hellscape christmas had become is Izechiels pride and joy. Not to mention, its just another perfect scenario for his domestic role play.
His idea of a christmas date is to take you to malls and stores. To watch children throw fits over toys, or employees get screamed at over returns. To see children scream in line waiting for Santa, and carts get filled with cheap liquor. If you're good, he'll let you pick something out for the boys. Expect a gift that's disgustingly consumerist, a limited edition Stanley or a Trader Joe's bag that people ripped each other apart for. He knows you don't want it, but he finds it just hilarious.
The boys like learning about Christmas snacks, gifts, and warmth, but unsurprisingly, their favorite thing to do is ice skate. They rollerblade around town all day, since hell isn't exactly frozen over, they adore learning they can glide across ice. Street hockey becomes regular hockey (how did they know one and not the other?), and they love the sting of the cold, the nipping of frost at their cheeks. You have to stop them from getting their tongues, fingers, and toes stuck to ice or frostbitten. Expect to hold a burning hot black coffee alongside Izechiel, whose using his powers to fling snow telepathically at babies in strollers, while the boys glide across the now-frozen duck pond.
"Is this even hockey; RAM HIM!" Izechiel yells, trying to incite more violence on the ice. "You train up a couple of imps and a few months with a mortal softens them right up. Just ridiculous. See if you don't get on my naughty list for this." He sips the scalding beverage with a comedic 'ahhh', before leaning to your ear. "Speaking of naughty, I have a request for my present this year-"
To your suprise, among the many human gifts you get the boys, Izechiel gets the imps a nice big pack of batteries for christmas, as a treat.
Ahhh i just wanna squeeze the imp boys. They are my SONS and i love them
Don't squeeze them, Izechiel will expect you to do the same for him, or rather let him squeeze you.
"Come on, doesn't even have to be anywhere naughty," He coos, hands hot yet strikingly chilly as they slide across your waist from behind. You'd made the mistake of tucking in the imps, they had gotten into a fight with a stray, and needed some love.
Unfortunately, their proverbial unholy 'father' was more than happy to try and take that as an opportunity to get some 'sugar', as he so crassly put it. "Just an ass grab? Do humans admire the stomach anymore, they did back in Greece. How about that, I'll grab your pudge-"
You smack away his hand. "Its hardly pudge!" You snap, rubbing at your head a bit. It may or may not be (depending on who you are), but he just sighs. "Whatever. What do I gotta do to get you to crawl all over me like you smooch and pet those imps. They. Aren't. Kids. They don't need your love, and I'm the one asking for it-"
This gives both of you pause, and Izechiel clears his throat. "Physical love, a romp in sheets. None of that mushiness, much as I love playing your husband." He lies, hoping to cover up that moment of vulnerability.
You see an opportunity, he flees at real emotional rawness. "You sure about that?"
This takes him aback, and he immediately slides his arms back, hands leaving you. "Yes, more than sure. I'm a liar, but I'm blunt when it counts. I'm thousands of years old, baby. I prefer a more mature partner-" He starts rambling on about why he could never possibly have feelings for a mortal like you, but he's backed off. You know you've one.
And it's not like you aren't going to keep caring for your... his imps.
i was wondering if we could get a beach day with Izechiel and the boysš„ŗ like a family vacation or sum
"Spit- spit that out!" Izechiel yells, snapping at the red-headed boy, who seems to have shoved a crab in his mouth. You wince, but shake it off. At this point, nothing suprises you, and you figure the crab is in more danger than the imp. "Actually ridiculous, can't take them anywhere." There's a plastic creaking as Izechiel settles into the cheap fold-out plastic chair. "Now, who wants to run and get daddy and ice cream?" He holds out a few dollars, and the imps scramble over each other, slipping on sand. He's been generous lately, and they know that getting him his frozen treat means an extra dollar or two for them to get a snack as well.
Eventually, the curly haired boy manages to slip under the brunette and red head, (he always was smaller), and grabs up the money before scurrying off.
"Why are you wearing your entire suit to the beach, we're getting looks?" You ask, frowning under the occasional odd gaze from a nearby beach goer.
"Could just be because you're half naked. Or because one of our beloved 'little ones' put a whole crustacean in his mouth." He says, just taking a drag off his cigarette. He only smokes them to be a nuisance, to make your house smell or to stub them out and leave his cigarette butts in public. "You know," he rolls over to face you. "If I'd known it takes a beach day to get you to stripped down, we'd have vacayed way before this."
You frown at his remark, shifting to cover your front with your arms. "Creep." He rolls his eyes, waving the cigarette towards you. "Add it to the long list of sins, baby." He coos.
Soon, the curly haired boy hands Izechiel a half frozen treat, and gets waved off quickly. He's quick to dig in, savoring the chocolate flavor. For all his bravado, its obvious human sweets have a hold on him.
You smile despite yourself, and stand to head towards the shoreline, needing a reprieve from the cigarette smoke that seems to linger constantly around him, though that could be the smell of brimstone. You stand near the boys, and they each look up at different points to nod at you. The curly haired one grabs at your wrist, trying to drag you to sit down. "What? What is it?" You laugh, only to feel a wet 'splat', as he plops some wet sand onto your leg. Seems he's going to try his best to bury you in the sand, like a family a few feet away is doing.
"Just watch my eyes and mouth." You chide, before laying down and settling against the warm, wet earth. His face splits into a slightly goofy grin, one you've come to see on the boys more as of late.
After a few minutes, you're comfortably submerged in wet sand, and the curly haired boy has wandered off, now being held down by the red haired boy, who seems to be trying to shove sand down his 'brothers' throat.
"Hey- knock that off, you little shits! You wanna cause a scene, if I have to get up there will be a scene." Izechiel screechs, prompting one to roll off the other. Besides you, you feel a sudden pressure, a weight.
Looking over, you see the short haired brunette, laying beside you happily. Its clear he doesn't realize why you're laying there, or that you've been buried, but he's plenty happy to be mimicking you.
It's... peaceful, despite how odd this situation is. Despite all you've been through in these past few weeks. You let yourself relax, eyes closing as you let the sounds of the sea consume you.
Before you suddenly sputter, sand in your eyes and nose. "Break it up, I'm lonely over here!" Izechiel yells, hand covered in evidence on the sand ball he just hurled at you. "And bring him, I want another ice cream."
I donāt remember if it was maintained why reader didnāt have kids with her husband but what if Izechielās darling had a kid with her husband? how would he treat the child?
Mostly because reader's husband was too busy out working, drinking, and philandering to get her pregnant, but if by some happenstance you had a kid, Izechiel and the imps would have very different reactions.
First and foremost, your child would likely be a baby, or a pretty young toddler. Izechiel... would not be delicate about the fact that he had an extra power over you. He's not above frequently holding baby in a precarious way if you're acting out, or giving you a reminder that he could hurt you through baby.
Of course, we've established he enjoys the power play, but he's not necessarily sadistic. He'd likely never hurt your kiddo, not really. Though he'd also not place himself in charge of caring for them initially. You're his housewife, watch your kid. He would linger during feedings and diaper changes, or attempt to dress baby once. The little one would end up with an inside out, upside down onesie, but at least he's trying?
As time goes on, he'd begin to ham it up. When he learned that humans come up to parents with comments about how cute there baby is, or how lovely your family looks, he gets 100% worse in his little role play fantasy. He'd buy a 'number one dad' mug, and dress when you go the park as some sort of caricature of a t-ball coach dad.
Waking in a cold sweat, you realize you haven't woken up once in several hours. You've admittedly become overly paranoid about your babies safety, getting up every few hours to check on your little one even if they aren't crying out. Grabbing up your slippers, you rush to the nursery, paling when you see a lanky figure, pearly grin like an anglerfish's lure, holding the little one while sitting in the cozy rocking chair. Baby is cooing, trying to grab at his stubby horns.
"Relax," he doesn't even look up, he's always hyper aware of when you're panicked, like a wolf sensing it's preys terror. "Got tired of you getting up every hour and depriving me of the enjoyment I get watching you sleep. Figured I'd come in here and do thie myself." He snickers. "Can't say I get what all the fuss is. I mean, it just wiggles and drools." He chuckles.
"My baby is not an 'it'!" You huff, going to try and take your bundle of joy from your tormentor. He puts a hand up warningly, giving you a stern glare. "Nah. I want you on your a-game, you've been tired and lacking behind lately. Still got a stain on my tie from last week, which i had assumed my lovely wife would get out by now. Leave baby with me, you're working yourself up over nothing-"
"Izechiel, please, I just-"
He puts his hand up, and you feel the words literally taken from your mouth. No sound comes out. You hate when he uses his powers like this. "Stop it. Baby is gonna be fine. I promise. I'm not gonna hurt your little one." His voice is a bit softer now, still a demand and not a request, but one clearly born from something mirroring concern. "Just go lay down. We'll be fine here."
Reluctantly, you slink to bed.
The imps really like having the baby around, as much as they understand liking something. However, it isn't wise to leave them with your little one. They can be very good boys, but they have no understanding of mortality or the need to be gentle. They eat batteries and bust skulls. They would never want to hurt baby, they just don't understand what 'not hurting' entails. It's like teaching a kid to be gentle when petting a dog, but with demons hundreds of years old and stronger than any mortal.
Because they can't be left alone with the baby, and a sitter is out the question given the boys quirks, anytime Izechiel takes you out, baby comes with.
The red-haired boy is protective of the baby. He's the eldest, you assume, and seems to be grasping human thinks the quickest. If the boys being to loud makes the little human cry, he'll smack his brothers to get them to quiet down. If the baby is in a happy mood, he'll smack his brothers to make them laugh. Most of how he understands connecting with baby is by hitting his brothers.
The brown haired boy loooooooves baby. He's the calmest, and the most gentle. He likes to just be around, like a dog. He'll watch your little one for hours on end, sitting beside them on the couch, or watching them try to stack blocks. He doesn't always understand why they don't do more 'human' stuff like you, like cooking or reading. You'll have to explain that's just not possible at this stage in babies development. He's one of the ones you can trust just to hold your little one, with supervision. He'll pet the top of babies head like a cat, and tremble with excitement anytime baby pets him back.
Lastly, something you never could have expected, the curly, dark haired one, is very jealous of your baby. He already went about destroying photos of your husband, and he's the most outwardly affectionate and most eager to be pampered. You should have expected this, but of course you had other concerns on your mind. He won't ever truly hurt your baby, at the risk of angering his master or upsetting you, but he'll pick on them like and older sibling. Steal their binky, flick there head, purposely turn up the tv too loud. Izechiel has been too busy to notice, or maybe he finds it amusing, but the red haired boy doesn't. Expect more frequent fights between them, while the brown haired one just happily watches your little one chew their own fist. Much to your chagrin, he tries copying, to see what the appeal is.
Hi!ā”ā”ā” i absolutely loved Izechiel and the imp boysā”ā” the way u write the story omll FOOD
Idk if u still doing requests or nah but what would be their reaction to reader getting hurt/assaulted? I can't decide between them protecting going haywire or smiling and finding the situation funny and getting jealous reader is 'allowing other people' to hurt them or smth
Anyways feel free to ignore m a die hard fan of urs anywayā” peace
(Ugh, love this.)
No, oh no. See, Izechiel doesn't like when people mess with his property, especially if they are messing with YOU.
Let's say something happens to you, in the rare chance he lets you out of the house. Maybe you're buying groceries, some Popsicles for the boys, or some black coffee for him, when you feel the cold steel of something press against your spine. Some thug, telling you to fork over your wallet and your jewelry. Terrified, you oblige, but not quick enough. A firm 'crack' rings out as the metal of a gun handle smacks the back of your head. Hands quickly rip the necklace from your neck and rifle through your pockets, grabbing anything of value and leaving you shaking.
It's about forty minutes later, without money you had to walk to the nearest police station, a cut on your head, blood now dried and crusted on your forehead. It isn't long before you feel a presence behind you, a gravelly sound. Wheels on pavement. Whipping around, you see the boys.
"Oh, boys. Thank goodness, I know I was supposed to be home, something happened." You stammer out. You can't read there faces, but there's something about there energy. It's cold, it reads like an anger you've only seen from Izechiel. "I uh- got mugged. I need to go to the police station, will you boys take me?"
They nod in unison, the dark haired on rolling over to sling your arm around him, trying to offer some support to your shaky form.
At the station, you're interviewed, file a report, and sit in the lobby. "Alright, ma'am, we'll get this filed, your ride should be here to pick you up soon, do we need a statement from him?"
"Ride?" You frown, looking up.
"Uh yeah, your... sons?" The cop glances at the three very different looking deliquents, who appear to be memorizing the 'most wanted' posters with a glean in there eyes. You hope they aren't planning any related activities. "They went ahead and said to call your husband."
Great. You had really hoped to keep Izechiel out of this, he barely lets you out of the house as is. Would he call you weak? Pester you? You have no way of knowing how he'd react. "Yeah, he... we shouldn't need a statement from him."
When your husbands old car pulls up outside of the station, you brace yourself for a dramatic entrance. Sure enough, "Honey!"
Your cheeks are attacked with quick, dramatic pecks, as hands wrap around your waist. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through, are you hurt?" There's a glimmer in his eyes, he looooooves playing up the caring husband act, especially in front of the public you so rarely interface with.
"I'm fine. Just shaken, lets go home." He doesn't move, looking expectantly at you. "Honey." You spit out, making him nod, and spin around to clap his hands. "Alright, kids, in the car. Mom's been through a lot today, we'll grab dinner on the way home." He motions for the imps to head out, grabbing your arm.
Once out of the station, his grip on your arm tightens. "What the hell were you thinking?" He spits.
"I was attacked, why wouldn't I go to the cops?"
"Uh, because mortals are stupid. You live with an unholy punisher, and you go to the municipal system?" He rolls his eyes. "We could've had your stuff back and a few extra limbs in the trunk by now."
"That's not how we do things up here, a-and I was scared!" You snap. "How would I have even called you, would you even have come?"
You slam the car door, refusing to face him as you look at the window. He white knuckles the steering wheel.
"Of course I would've come. You're my-" He chews on his tongue, barely sticking it out between his teeth. "My property." He finishes, with a sigh. "And property is nine tenths of the law here and in hell. I hate people messing with my stuff, I would've dealt with him. I'm a demon, say my name three times and I'll feel it. We've been over this." It's then he tilts his head, looking in the back. "And you went to the imps for help? Geez, for a woman who claims to want to keep them outta trouble, you dragged them into some craziness."
"I didn't call them, they just showed up. Not... even sure how." Glancing back into the backseat, you can sense the answer from there silent eyes.
"Seems they got worried when you were out longer than you were supposed to be, guess they went looking for you. Scented you-"
"What?!" You screech.
"They're trackers, not unlike dogs. It's an imp thing, lower level demon powers." He acts like its the most natural thing in the world.
He makes good on his promise to get food, and to your suprise, doesn't even ask whay you want, he just knows. And you don't have to insist he feed the boys, he just... does. Orders like he's still playing family back at the station.
"Stop being a brat, let me see." He hisses, back at the house he's got you holding still on the bed, trying to get at your head injury.
"I can treat it myself."
"Not gonna treat it, gonna heal it. You are just so frustrating." He manages to wrestle you still, placing a warm hand on yours. There's a slight sting, but when he's done, sure enough, the injury is gone.
"Why are you even able to heal? Aren't you literally made to harm?"
He shrugs. "Yeah, but I injured myself plenty early on. Not to mention the boys-" He cuts off, smiling indignantly as he shakes his head. "Imps." He corrects
"You heal them?"
He 'tsks'. "No point in them getting unnecessarily maimed and dying. The real torture is training replacements for them." He excuses. You sigh, taking a deep breath, still shaken from the event.
"You can still leave the house." He mumbles after a bit, having turned on the tv. For some reason, the few times he's been kind or vulnerable, he's refused to make eye contact, always acting like its off-handed and not a big deal. Still, its better than nothing. "Take at least one of the imps with you, but I'm not gonna punish you for some other humans greed."
You're suprised, but don't voice it. He's likely to lash out or rescind his offer if you make a big deal out it. His own personal anti-friendly version of biting at the hand that feeds you. "Alright."
"Alright." He parrots back, before slinging an arm around you. He's grinning again, and you instinctively know he's about to say something stupid.
"You know, maybe we should get in trouble more. I liked playing the fawning husband for those coppers earlier. You think a loving little wife such as yourself would like to thank her oh so kind husband for being there for her?"
"Shut up." You mumble, but there's no real bite.
"Alright, jeez. I might pursue an affair, just for that." He comments.
You don't remember exactly when you dozed off, but at some point, you awake to darkness, feeling the familiar need to pee down below. It isn't till you return from the bathroom, thay you realize Izechiel isn't here. He occasionally goes on night errands, but he's never particularly quiet about it. You figure you must've just been in a particularly deep sleep, and return to bed.
Across town, bright headlights shine down into an alley, capturing the sight of three young boys battering a man on the ground, street hockey sticks and a crowbar striking him over and over as the man begs for mercy. When the light hits them, they freeze and look up, backing off the man.
"Oh thank god- please help me!" The man sputters, equal parts saliva and blood landing in drops before him as he attempts to crawl towards the car. "These fucking kids are trying to kill me, thank God you're here- Ahhh-" he hisses as his bloodied hand, extended towards the man in the white suit, is crunched beneath a polished leather shoe.
"No god here, pal. But you'll be wishing he was by the time I'm done." He shakes his head, looking up at the boys. "Hey, didn't I tell you three to take it easy, save some for the boss? Where did your manners go?"
They all look at him, still white knuckling their weapons of choice. Their gazes carry the anger and slight fear they had held earlier, their reason for disobeying him to put this bastard in his place. Izechiel just nods. "I know..." he chuckles. "I know."
which episode does yandere!demon get jealous and eventually turn a lil soft to reader
or reader just left of ignore him for a period of time
Izechiel isn't... the type to get jealous of another man, because he doesn't actually let you around other people. Only the imps, and even then, he gets plenty prickly when they are getting sweet with you. That doesn't mean he doesn't occasionally have a softer moment. He'd be relatively gentle with you all the time if you'd just be more agreeable.
One way to soften him up is to give in. You don't have to go all the way, but make him the meals he seems to like. Put on the shitty reality shows he enjoys, seek out his company. Above all, he is a creature of ego. He wants to feel like you're coming around to him, or at least getting used to his presence. Don't think this means you can manipulate him, though. If you're acting all sweet and cozy; he'll relish in it, but the moment you try to pull one over on him, he'll know. You don't outdo the doer. Mind you, if its something simple, maybe he'll let it slide and give in, not because you tricked him, but your audacity is amusing.
Another way to soften him up is if something genuinely shakes you. Maybe he came home a little messy from a job, not his usual style, but things happen. Or maybe he sent the boys to do something not so savory and he requested they bring him back some evidence of a job well done. Either way, something happened to shake you to your core. Izechiel isn't sadistic, persay, it's a misconception all demons are. He enjoys the feeling of power, and torturing evil doers, but he's not in it for the sake of cruelty. He may never have brought this up, but he's actually spent most of his time in the rings of Greed and Pride, which are his favorite aspects of humanity. He doesn't take any particular pleasure in watching you upset.
It's around six-thirty, when he notices he hasn't seen you in a bit. Turning the volume down on his show, the results of the paternity test now dimmed, he looks around. With a frown, he snaps his fingers in the direction of the imps, who are learning about the interesting buzz they get by licking AA batteries. "You three, where's pur land lord gotten of to?" He asks, prompting the three to sit up, the brunette letting a saliva coated battery drop from his lips. They shrug, making him roll his eyes. "You really do exist only to torment me, fine. I'll find her myself." He snarls, getting up with a groan and a slight stretch of his spine.
It's not long till he hears a sniffling in your room, drawing his gaze. He taps open your door with the toe of his shoe, poking his head in. "You doing a key in here, what's with the nose noise?" He asks, waving his hand behind him to magically shut the door. He sees yoy curled up on your bed, eyes red and nose runny. "Geez, what happened to you?"
"Please, not... not now, Izechiel. I just want some alone time." You whisper, unable and unwilling to meet his gaze.
"If you'd kept down the wailing, maybe that would've happened, but I'm here now, and I can go wherever I damn well please." He flops on the bed, slinging an arm around you. "Come on, tell daddy what's wrong." He snickers, tilting his head as he coos uncomfortably close to your ear.
"It's-" You swallow. "This, all of this, its too much! You- you had them bring back a-a-' You can't even get the words out. He'd sent the boys to collect a debt owed, and the item they had plopped onto your table in the middle of dinner shook you to your core. The bloody, severed ear made you lose all of you appetite, and retreat almost immediately after the dishes were done.
"That's what this is about? The little ear? I already told the imps 'no business talk at dinner'. Won't happen again." He shakes his head. "Listen, I'm not happy the little idiots upset our nice meal-"
"They didn't upset it! You did! You sent them to do that, that horrible act and then told them to bring back evidence! Body parts, to my home!"
"My home." He corrects.
"It's sick! I-I put up with a lot, I do! But seeing something like that, I can't! I just can't." You gag at the image.
"Humans watch all sorts of horrible stuff, you draw the line at that?"
"Yes!" You cry. It... unnerves him. He likes when he's making you angry, or annoyed, but there's such a genuine defeat in the way you're acting now. It's no fun at all.
He's from hell, and as intelligent and worldly as he claims to be, he sees the worst in humans. The pride, greed, savagery. He doesn't always understand that not every human is gonna be desensitized or brush off violence like him. It's a hard adjustment to make, especially considering he's never been around a human he wasn't torturing this long.
"Alright, alright. I'm feeling generous, and the smell of that appendage didn't exactly put me in a dinner mood either. No more business at the house, okay? No blood, no limbs, no viscera. I'll brief the boys on it, that seems fair?"
When you nod, he realizes you're too weak to even ask why he's offering this. To ask what he wants out of it. It's that broken down spirit, that lack of any pushback that gets him. He knows now how serious this is.
"Hey, look at me." He puts a finger under your chin, tilting your tear streaked face to meet his every smiling one. "I'm keeping my promise, no more of it. But you gotta make your end of the deal too. First, no more of those tears, you humans leak a disgusting amount of fluids, and we share this bed." He fakes a retch, which would almost be amusing if you didn't know he was just being dramatic. He's seen worse. "Secondly, I'm technically the breadwinner, you oughta be glad I'm not bringing work home. I'm protecting you, shielding you even, from now on. How about a kiss for your provider? Huh?"
You glare at him, and his softer smile turns sharp again. There you are. "You're insane." You huff, looking away.
"That's not a no. Come on, just one little peck for a lifetime of preserved, censored sanity? Right on the lips." Reluctantly, you place a peck to his lips, contact feeling similar to that of being shocked. "There's a girl. Wasn't half as bad as you thought it'd be, was it?" He playfully pushes your head aside as he gets up. "It's been a day, turn on the tv. Think I'll watch my show up here with you." He goes to use the restroom, and you reflect on the evening.
The events seem to have gone in your favor, and yet... something he said nags at you. 'A lifetime of preserved, censored sanity.' You hope a lifetime means somethinf different, shorter, where he's from.
How do the imp ākidsā see reader? Do they see reader as a parent or just some person?
They aren't sure. Unlike Izechiel, they don't wander up to earth for extended periods, they wouldn't know what a parent or even a true friend was if it hit them over the head. But they feel a craving, something deep within them. Something that tells them to linger near you. They don't discern good and bad really, mostly what brings them pain, and what brings others pain. The fact you don't fit into either of those things really confuses them.
The boys see you as safe. For the first time since their unholy conception, they have somewhere they can go and simply rest, or explore. They trust that you will allow them to comfortably and freely learn about the human world without judgment, or a fear of punishment.
The red haired one doesn't know how to see someone as a parent, but he knows that when he wrecked your window, you just sighed and asked him politely not to do it again. He knows that when he's hungry you'll make him the red soup he likes, and you'll always remind him to blow on it, even though the liquid can't actually burn him.
The brunette one doesn't know what a 'mom' is, but he knows that the ones one tv all seem to act like you, tired but kind. He knows that when he got covered in something called 'toothpaste' because he liked the shimmer, that the way you cleaned him off with that wash cloth felt like... hurting, but the opposite? A strong feeling, warm, but not the painful, blistering heat most touch in hell led to.
The curly haired one doesn't truly care for anyone but his 'brothers', but he knows that he likes how you sound. Your voice is soft, it feels good to hear, as odd as that is. He never imagined anything feeling good; much less a sound. All the sounds in hell are... hellish. He knows that he hates to see those photos of your pretty face with that awful man. Really, bad as his boss is, he's never hurt you. All the boys are beginning to grow suspicious that he never would. He finds himself wishing you'd keep his boss happy, not for Izechiel's sake, but yours.
None of the boys truly know what you are to them, but they know when it's dark out, and thunder is clapping above like the baying of hellhounds, and lightning crashes like the waves that drowned those folks in what Izechiel always called 'the great flood', that you'll be there. That the redhead, ever the leader, will approach your door, and with a look; you'll let them in. You'll be annoyed, maybe tired, but you won't turn them away. They know they can chase that odd human feeling that the TV has so many names for, everytime you let them lay at the foot of your bed or beside you, like puppies seeking comfort.
A head on your shoulder, bright red locks by your cheek. A calloused hand near yours, attached to a dark haired boy. And the occasional sleepy twitch of a brunette, not unlike a dog chasing something in a dream. They are seeking contact. You suppose they must just move around a lot when sleeping.
Warnings: Typical yandere stuff, mentions of violence, manipulation, coercion, roughhousing, murder, mention of blood, religion. (no smut for once!)
A/N: Heavily inspired by Azazel in Dogma, which is a BANGER film I recommend you all watch.
"Honey, I'm home!" A loud, chipper voice calls out, sound of a slamming door to follow. You grimace as your TV flickers and glitches, before changing to some sappy sitcom with a laugh track that begins to echo through the room as if in response to the Demons sudden entrance. "Cmon, not even a smile? They get it-" He gestures to the laugh track which continues to play, as he removes his suit jacket and tosses it to the coat rack. He always dressed strangely, like a well-off gentleman of the 50s. Slicked back brunette hair, a creme suit, and a tie with some zany pattern or another on it. He hangs up his signature Panama fedora, running a hand through his hair as the little red stubs on his head, the only real physical marker of his demonic form he can't fully make go away for his disguise, now presented atop his head, a sickening reminder of your predicament.
"You could at least pretend to be a little excited. I mean, I'm the breadwinner here. A hard-working man. Not even a 'Welcome back, dear'?" He holds his hands out in front of him, head tilted slightly as if waiting for you to give in, before his faux-chipper gaze falls immediately, an unamused expression replacing it as he rolls his eyes. "You are one cold bitch, anyone ever tell you that?"
"Where are your boys?" You ask, tilting your head a bit to see out the door. His classic car, or rather your ex-husbands, sits in the driveway.
"First of all," He's fiddling with the coffee pot, still working on getting the hang of the beverage maker. "They aren't boys. Minions, imps, but not boys. They've been around since the big bang, they're hardly the kids they look like. We've been through this. Second," He manages to make it start, and the slow dribble of coffee spurts from the bottom. He puts a cup underneath it and turns to face you while it fills. "They're supposed to be with you." His gaze narrows.
"What, no-" You sit up, spine going straight. Months ago, when he'd arrived on your doorstep, asking to speak to your husband, you'd let your husband go out and speak to him. You couldn't of been aware of what you'd witness, his hand going straight through your husbands chest as if he weren't even solid, plucking his heart out with no blood, no mess. It was horrifying. Rod had never been good to you, but to see the bastard die so brutally... Izechiel had made quick work after that.
He'd explained he was here on a mission, some demonic scheme for his oh-so great big boss downstairs, and he needed a home base. Your house just happened to be the nicest on the block, and a quick look at your husbands soul showed a real rotten man. 'Quick vacation bonus' He'd called it, claiming bagging a headquarters and a sinner was a perfect two birds, one stone. And boy, the third bird was you.
You had just sobbed and begged for the life of your cheating, stealing, sleaze of a man. He liked it, he's from hell, its hard enough to trust people. You can't just buy that kinda loyalty. And as much as he hated to admit it, he hadn't been topside in a long time. 'Things change quick up here,' he told you. So, surely a human woman might be good to keep around to help with the little things he doesn't know about. And shit, his little minion fuckers are good at killing, not cleaning.
So, he and the three awful tween-like demons he called his moved in. The boys were... odd, but less threatening than there master. They were like stray dogs, curious and unsure of how to live in a human house, but still obeying a pack leader. They look like humans by all accounts, except for there pale, deadish dark eyes. Ones a brunette, another with fiery red hair, and one with dark curls. None of them particularly look like each other or Izechiel, but then you suppose they aren't related. Still, when he tells them to help; they help, and sometimes, if he's gone, they'll help unprompted. You can't help but look at them as boys, even though he swears they aren't. Every time he snarks at them or yells, you flinch.
"Oh, heh- I know where they are." He strolls casually past you, kicking your coffee table and spilling your drink for no reason other than he feels like it. Opening the door, he yells out. "Hey, numbskulls, inside."
Three boys, dressed in typical street teen clothes, holding wet rollerblading gear come in, dripping in the carpet. It'd rained the night before, and you gasp.
"Oh my god, were they out there all night? Why didn't you bring them in?" You exclaim, rushing forward, hesitant to touch them but instinctually reaching out.
"Hey, cool it with the 'g-word'." He clicks his tongue, and looks at them. "Yeah, explain yourselves." The redhead, who you have always thought was the leader, just blinks. They communicate this way a lot. "Oh, yeah, I did do that." Izechiel turns back to you, hands in pockets. "Yeah, I was indulging last night in some of the lecherous goodness that is your 'reality tv', and there breathing was bothering me. They don't even need to breath, I think they picked it up from you." He scoffs. "Anyways, I told them to go rollerblade outside, beat up a homeless guy with their hockey sticks, I dunno. Guess I forgot to let them back in."
"They were out all night? In the rain? You're lucky the neighbors didn't call the cops!" You turn, face pale. You grimace when you see they are soaking the carpets. "Put your clothes in the wash, uh, and shower. Dinner will be ready soon."
"You can't just order my minions around." He raises his brow as if amused by the audacity. When the three look at them, he just bulges his eyes and shakes his head mockingly. "Well? Go!" He snaps, and they scurry off.
"You should be nicer to them."
"Aw, nah. It's good for em, there's worst masters in hell they could be serving, I let them indulge for the most part in human luxuries." He watches slyly as you turn to put a frozen lasagna into the oven. "Speaking of human luxuries, when are you gonna let me get at yours, huh?"
You freeze. He's never gone very far with you; always getting huffy and backing off when you get truly scared. Doesn't stop him from making innuendo. Most nights he stays up watching TV or wandering into the darkness of the street, but some nights he just lays above your sheets beside you. Watching. "No. I've already told you no." You mumble, swallowing.
"Come oooon, we're practically married in everything but name, by human standards. I'm single, your technically married, because not death certificate, but-" he shakes his hand. "Semantics. And don't tell me you aren't aching for it, you're cooped up here all day, no on else around."
"And whose fault is that?" You snap, causing him to startle. You immediately shrink back, he's scary when he's truly upset. Luckily, he seems amused.
"Ooh, spicy tonight. I don't hate it." He slyly wraps an arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. He simultaneously feels frigid to the touch and fiery hot. "Just lemme hold you then. Something about that gross, fleshy blood pump on your chest, weirdly calming."
You begrudgingly allow him too, you've already gotten far denying him.
"You're lucky I'm not from the lust ring of hell." He adds, there's a threat there that makes you shiver. "Thinking I'll stay in tonight, watch you catch some sleep. Speaking of, what's with the pillow fort?" He motions over to the couch, where you've set up the pullout bed.
"For the boys." You explain. "I've set it up for them, they seem to like resting on it sometimes."
His hands grip onto your waist a little tighter. "You're making them soft, there demons, you know. They've killed people, plenty. I sent them personally to take your mister down to the gates, why do you insist on coddling them?"
"I don't know." You shut the oven door. "Maybe I just want something normal!? Something... to feel normal, kids in a house being looked after, and not three demons keeping an eye on me."
"Nothing is 'normal' up here, you humans act like there's some universal standard of what something should be. It's presumptuous at best." He tilts his head. "But, whatever. As long as they don't start getting soft or turning on me, have your fun. I'm not dumb enough to think you aren't a help around here. So coddle em, mother them. Just don't let it interfere with my work, dig?"
Dinner is uneventful, with the boys staying silent and struggling, as usual, to use humans utensils, while Izechiel rambles on about all the misfortune he caused today. He hasn't revealed what his mission topside is, but you don't really want to know. Tonight, he insists on laying beside you, reading some trashy fashion magazine while you try to rest.
"Human stupidity never ceases to amuse me. You have medical advancements, machines that can see the stars, and yet you all strive to make enough useless paper to buy expensive flower water." He chuckles, pointing to a luxury perfume ad. "I mean really, you people are just never satisfied, you just have to find the dumbest nothing and make it everything!" He sets the magazine aside. "Like that husband of yours, a good home and a smoking wife, yet he cheats with every girl he can get under the skirt off. Crazy world."
You flinch at the mention of your ex. He wasn't good to you, but his brutal death weighs on you. Izechiel sighs. "Listen, I know this isn't ideal for you, but the way I see it, I've done you a favor. And don't start-" he puts a finger up. "I know you don't think of it as one. I don't expect you to. But I'm giving you a free ride in exchange for a clean home and obedience. And really, isn't that all he was giving you?"
"You didn't... know him." You murmur.
He just grins, that same cold grin when he knows he's got you. "Oh baby, but I did. Maybe better than you." He flicks off the light. "Get some rest, I got an early morning and I wanna get a full eight hours of watching you sleeping in before I gotta go."
Creeped out but tired, you decide to rest, letting your heavy eyelids fall.
It isn't till morning you feel a different set of eyes on you. Jolting awake, you see the red haired boy looking over you, face blank, though he dors flinch a bit as you awaken. "Oh my god-" You grab you sheets. He flinches at the 'g-word'. "What are you doing?" He says nothing, but glances at the door. Somehow, you understand. You're too bleary to even question how you understand, maybe being around Izechiel's silent communication has rubbed off on you.
"He told you to watch me?" The boy nods. "I don't think he meant this specifically." You groan, turning on the light. "But I'm up now, what do you want? Food?"
He nods again, then towards the door. You get the sense the other two are waiting outside. "You really do do everything together. Fine. I'm up, I'm up." You leave the room, and are unsupervised you're now flanked by three silent boys. You walk downstairs, pouring some cereal in a bowl for each boy. They still struggle to use a spoon, bits and bobs falling from the spoon while they eat like barnyard animals. You wince at the loud eating sounds, but shake it off.
The third one, the dark haired boy with the tan skin, finishes first, and looks outside. There's a park on the edge of the neighborhood, with some ducks and families around a pond. "Whatcha looking at?" You ask, and his sad, brown eyes meet yours. You shiver, the emptiness within them is jarring.
"The uh- the ducks? Yeah, there's a bunch in that pond. I go feed them sometimes." You explain, motioning to some bread on the counter. "Bread, seeds, bird stuff." Now, all three boys are looking from where they are sat, heads tilted slightly to the side in unison. "Like puppies.' You think. Glancing at the clock, you see Izechiel won't be back for a while, and you haven't left the house since he forcefully moved in. "I don't suppose the three of you would like to come?"
They perk up, and you turn, smiling at how these quiet boys fail to hide the feeling Izechiel claims they don't have. Reaching for the bread, you suddenly freeze when you hear a noise.
"Not really supposed to. He said to stay here." You're so shocked, honestly you didn't know if they even could speak. The red head doesn't speak any further.
"Uh- well..." You pause. "He said to keep an eye on me, yeah? But he didn't say where. And its no more than a minute or so from the house. It'll be fun." They don't seem convinced, but at this point you're so desperate to feel the sun and air on your skin, you'll do what it takes to go out. Approaching them, you awkwardly tuck the long hair behind the ear of the red-head, whose brows furrowed in confusion. "Come on. You're... maybe not kids, but you're kids, you know? Isn't temptation what demons are about or something? And when's the next time you'll get to meet a new animal?" He glances at the other two, who seem suprised but equally eager, and then nods.
"Kay." He stands quickly, the lanky brunette follows. The dark haired one just stares, and you look around. "Uh, do you need something." You get the feeling he won't leave till he gets whatever it is he wants, and you think. "Oh..." Gently, you tuck his hair too, and he again, much like a dog, chases the touch of your hand, before scurrying off. You smile.
At the park, you relish in the feeling of being out of that house. It always felt like a bit of a gilded cage, but God, its just gotten so much worse being trapped with him. The boys are rotating between rollerblading and feeding the ducks with a bag of seed you brought them. They're being a bit rowdy with each other, and the lanky brunette seems a little afraid of the birds, holding out one trembling hand for the ducks to feed from.
A firm grip suddenly landing on your shoulder interrupts your peace, making you jump and gasp. A familiar cackle follows, and Izchiel seems more than thrilled at your reaction.
"Jeez, youd've thought I shot you, are there really that many rapists and muggers in this park? You trying to get my minions killed?" He snickers, crossing his arms behind you on the back of the bench to lean down face to face.
"What are you doing here?" You snap, trying to get the spooked flush off your face.
"Eh, half of being a demon is punishing the dammned, taking souls. The other half is slacking off. You think I'm a fucking apostle? Some limp-dick archangel, nah. Figured I'd come home early." His brows furrowed, and he sucks his teeth in obvious annoyance. "So, imagine my shock, when I come home to an empty house. Thought I made it pretty clear you were supposed to stay where I can keep an eye on you."
"I'm a minute from the house, and besides, they're watching me." I point to the boys.
"Please, they're idiots. I put them on babysitting duty as a last resort. And what kind of guarding are they doing now, bumping into each other and hand feeding birds- HEY!" He snaps thrice, and the boys all go stiff, immediately rolling along the sidewalk to a stop in front of the pair of you. At least, one does.
"Where's the the other two?" Izchiel sneers, suprised they have the gall to not show up. The brunette just points to where a flock of ducks are fleeing with panicked quacks and sqwaks. In the middle of the chaos, a flurry of arms and legs are flailed about, both boys engaged in a brawl.
"Oh my-" Before you can finish, Izechiel pushes your shoulder.
"Don't say it. See what happens when you let a bunch of animals from hell act like kids. HEY!" His voice echoes, shaking the nearby trees and making your heart momentarily start. His amplified, demonic voice is one of his non-human features you hate most. "Get over here, that's enough. You don't want to know whats gonna happen if I have to come over there and separate you."
Both boys begin to untangle themselves, cut and bruised as only demons can do real physical harm to each other. They look angry, but keep there heads down. Izchiel smacks both of them on the backs of there heads, before stwpping between them and grabbing there shoulders. "Mind telling me what the hell that was?" He snaps.
Another moment of silence, then he cackles. "Oh, really? You gotta be kidding me-" He snatches a limp bag of bird seed from the redhead, and in his palm ignites it, turning it quickly to ash. "There, now no one gets to feed the pretty birdies. You're grown demons, act like it. And since when do you take orders from a HUMAN!" He points at you, and the boys keep looking down. "Back inside, I'll deal with you three later." They roll away, casting glances at you once at of sight before entering the house.
"See? Not boys, demons. They can hardly use common sense to learn how to eat with a spoon, you think they're ready for a family day at the park?" He sneers. You looking away only angers him more. ""What? That strike a nerve? No husband, no kiddos? This isn't some picket fence family, however comfortable I've let you get is a luxury, yeah? You could be in the back garden with your hubby, but I've been oh-so-generous, and let you stay up here in your cushy little house. But I'm getting sick of this playing pretend, they aren't your little brood of kids, yeah? They are demons. They kill, they maim, they torture. Stop lavishing them when attention, it'll only torment them more when I drag them back downstairs after all this is over." He leans back up and out of your face, now staring out over the pond with his hands in his pockets.
"And I just don't get you humans. You wanna play house but being a good housewife and fulfilling some duties ruins it for you?" He shakes his head.
This gives you pause. It makes sense now. "You're jealous." You murmur. His eyes widen a bit. "You're jealous I'm taking care of them and not you. You're jealous of what you call 'lesser demons!'" He scoffs.
"Please, jealous? Sure, it'd be nice to wet my wick, but I'm enjoying plenty of other human luxuries up here. I don't need some human girl to fuss over me. Thats the problem with you humans, you think everything is about you. Such a self centered species."
"I'm self centered? You're jealous, everytime I've tried to care for them, you've magically shown up. That time I showed them how a bathtub worked, you broke the hot water boiler. When I asked what they wanted for dinner, you insisted we watch couples get into fights by eating dinner at that shitty dive bar. And now when I take them out, you magically take off work!"
"Leave the jokes to me, okay, you aren't as smart as you think you are. Are you done making a red string board?" He asks, brows raised mockingly. "Good. Now come on, I'm hungry." He takes off quickly, and for a moment, you feel as though you've won. You've gotten under his 'skin'.
In the evening, the boys avoid you once home, Izchiel instructs you to leave them alone and insists they'll heal on there own. However, when you go to bed, you find him sprawled in the middle of the bed, legs crossed and clearly content with himself.
"See, I've been thinking. Maybe I'm spoiling you." He starts rambling as soon as you enter, not caring if your listening. "I mean, you were so good those first few nights, scared out of your mind and quiet. What happened to that lady, huh? Now you've just got such a smart mouth. So, I'm taking some privileges from you. The bed, those warm baths you love, nothing crazy."
"Excuse me?" You look up, aghast.
"Frankly, even this is pretty generous of me. I mean, really. I could just go straight to red hot pokers."
"This is my house-"
"My house-" He corrects. "And I hold the power. You remember that night?" He asks. You swallow harshly as he stands. "I ripped that bloody organ right out of that philanderers chest. Now, I won't lie, you amuse me, but again, humans are so self-centered! You think I like you so much I won't do that you? I certainly hope not."
He's inches away, cold. Glaring. He has a deadness in his eyes that mimics that of the boys's, his usual cruel mirth gone. "So, lets try and be a little more cooperative from now on, huh? I want you to remember, I can do whatever I want, but I'm showing some self restraint. You know how incredible that is for a demon?"
His hands rather quickly grips onto your arm, making you wince at the firm, bruising touch. "That hurts-"
"But it could always hurt more." He finishes, though you don't see the way he quickly lets you go. "Remember that. Now-" He pecks you on the lips, making you gasp. He's never gone that far before. He grins. "Nighty night. Set yourself up a little spot beside the bed, yeah? Gonna be a long night, you oughta get started."
As you reluctantly go off to fetch spare blankets from the linen closet, the demon begrudgingly looks at his tingling hand. It felt good, touching you. In any way. He didn't like hurting you, much to his own confusion. He gets his rocks off watching you squirm, not writhe. He's experiencing a lot of new things up here while on this work vacation, some better than others. But as impressive at it is for him to show restraint, it'd be more impressive to get him to admit how pissed jealous he was about you and his minions. He does, begrudgingly, care a bit for the demon whelps, but he still believes you're wasting his time. Shaking his head, he scratches one of his horns and kicks off his shoes, before setting cozy into bed for a night of people watching. Or, person watching.
Downstairs, the three demons are sat on the couch awkwardly, listening upstairs for any type of violent sounding or rough noise. When they hear none, they relax slightly, shoulders drooping from the three of them. They don't know what or even how to feel about you, unwaiveringly loyal to there master, but so drawn in by the foreign sensations of care you cause in them. The red head eventually huffs, smacking the brunette haired one and taking the TV remote to put on wrestling. The brunette haired one glares, but goes back to fiddling with a loose string on the couch, practically unraveling the thing after days of pulling.
Lastly, the black haired one, head leaned sleepily against the arm of the couch, though he doesn't need to sleep being able to truly relax seems so foreign. His hands, draped in loose flannel sleeves, wrap around a wedding photo of you and your ex. He looks at it, before a 'crack' can be heard, and the glass over the face of your husband is shattered and unable to be made out. Now, just your face remains. The boy smiles.
PreYandere!Prince was completely blinded by his own narrative. He fancied himself a tragic hero, a romantic rebel forced by his kingdom into an arranged marriage with you, while his "true love," a beautiful, sweet-natured court lady, was forced to watch from the sidelines. He decided from day one that you were the villain of his story, a parasitic royal who was actively stealing his freedom, and he treated you with absolute, freezing contempt.
You tried so hard in the beginning. You brought him his favorite tea during his strategy meetings, learned the history of his duchy, and genuinely tried to bridge the gap between you two. But he didn't just ignore you; he made sure everyone else knew you were unloved. Whenever you spoke to him in public, he would look right through you, turning his back to talk to his court lady instead, leaving you standing alone under the whispers of the entire aristocracy.
The turning point happened at a grand ball. After a princess purposely stepped on the train of your dress, causing the fabric to rip and sending you crashing to the marble floor in front of foreign dignitaries, you looked up through your tears at him. He didn't offer a hand. He just looked disgusted by the "scene" you were making. That was the exact moment something inside you snapped. You realized you were bleeding yourself dry for a man who enjoyed watching you suffer.
You didn't cry on the carriage ride back. You went straight to your father, the King, knelt before his throne, and begged him to cancel the engagement. You confessed everything: the bullying, the public humiliation, the total lack of respect. Your father was absolutely furious. The political alliance was instantly severed, and a formal declaration was sent to the princeās kingdom, effectively cutting off all ties and declaring that you were completely free from him.
The day the alliance was dissolved, PreYandere!Prince thought he won. He finally had his "true love" sitting right next to him at his private tea table, no longer hidden in the shadows. But as the hours ticked by, a sickening, hollow feeling started to settle in his chest. His court lady was speaking to him, smiling her usual sweet smile, but he couldn't focus on a single word she was saying. His eyes kept darting to the empty chair across from him the chair where you used to sit, quietly enduring his coldness just to be near him.
The regret sets in like a slow-acting poison, and itās quickly twisting into a dark, unhinged obsession. He goes to the training grounds, but you aren't there waiting with a towel. He walks the palace corridors, but there are no clumsy, anxious footsteps trying to keep pace with his. He sits through a boring council meeting, and for the first time, no one brings him his specific tea. He realizes, with a sudden, terrifying spike in his pulse, that your warmth wasn't an annoyance it was the only thing keeping his cold world alive. And he threw it away.
PreYandere!Prince tries to find comfort in his "true love," but the illusion has completely shattered. When she spills a drink by accident, his mind instantly flashes back to the way he watched people pour water on you, and a wave of violent, nauseating guilt hits him so hard he has to leave the room. He doesn't want her anymore. He doesn't care about his rebellion. His mind is completely consumed by the memory of your tear-filled eyes looking up at him from the ballroom floor. The yandere switch is officially flipping; he doesn't care that the marriage is cancelled, and he doesn't care that you hate him. He is going to get you back, even if he has to drag your kingdom into a war to do it.
Yandere!Prince completely loses his mind the second he realizes your absence isn't temporary. The cold, empty silence of his palace drives him into a frantic panic. Within forty-eight hours of the engagement being canceled, he sits at his desk and begins writing. He doesn't just send an apology; he sends three letters a day, every single day, bypassing the standard royal couriers and hiring private, high-speed riders just to force his words into your palace.
The content of his letters shifts from desperate apologies to unhinged, possessive gaslighting. He completely rewrites history in his head. He writes pages upon pages detailing how the bullying was just a "test" of your devotion, or how he was only being cold to "protect you from political enemies." He will write things like, "I only let them spill that water so I could see how gracefully you would handle adversity, my love. You must understand that it was all out of adoration."
Yandere!Prince treats your lack of a response as a playful game of hide-and-seek rather than a total rejection. When your fatherās royal guards intercept his letters and burn them, he just sends more through black-market contacts or smugglers. He begins attaching expensive, rare gifts to the wax-sealed envelopesāantique jewelry, your favorite tea leaves from foreign lands, and vials of his own cologne so you "don't forget his scent." He writes, "I know you are just hurting right now, but a princess should not keep her future king waiting for too long."
Yandere!Prince "true love" has completely discarded the court lady and now terrifies her. She tries to comfort him or sit at his desk, but he will literally snap at her, his eyes wild and bloodshot as he shoves her away to continue writing to you. He looks at her and feels nothing but disgust because she isn't you. If she speaks, he tells her to be quiet because he "needs to concentrate on making amends with his real spouse."
Yandere!Prince starts sending letters directly to your father, the King, offering insane, highly unfavorable political concessions just to get the marriage contract back on the table. He offers to give up disputed territories, pay massive tributes, and sign away his own kingdom's rights to its resources. His own councilors think he has lost his mind, but he doesn't care about his kingdom anymore. He tells his father, "If we do not secure this alliance, there will be no kingdom left to rule, because I will burn it down myself."
The letters get progressively darker and more threatening as the weeks go by without a reply. The elegant cursive font becomes messy, frantic, and stained with drops of ink (and sometimes his own tears). He starts tracking your daily routine through spies he placed in your kingdom, writing things that prove heās watching you: "I saw that you wore the blue silk dress to the garden yesterday. It suits you, but it would look better on the balcony of my estate. Do not make me come drag you back myself, my sweet."
Yandere!Prince final letters stop asking for the marriage to continue and start stating it as an absolute, terrifying fact. He writes to you with the chilling certainty of a man who has completely detached from reality. "The priests have already set the date. The chapel is being decorated with your favorite lilies. Your father thinks a piece of paper canceled our souls, but you belong to me. Pack your things, my love. I am coming to collect my bride, and no army on earth is going to stand in my way."
Any chance of an Lucky Egg for Ashveil? The man is such a dog/hound coded dork, I love him so much
If not, then still thank you. Love your works and glad to see you back ā¤ļøā¤ļøā¤ļø
LUCKY EGG
Yandere!Ashveil x Reader
The steady tapping of your keyboard was the only sound left in the office. As the personal assistant to one of the busiest CEOs in the country, your life revolved around calendars, boarding passes, and meetings scattered across more time zones than you cared to count.
Your boss rarely stayed in one place for long. It wasn't easy, but you had become remarkably good at your job. The company trusted you to keep pace with a man who never seemed to slow down, and despite the demanding workload, you had yet to miss a deadline.
By the time the office had emptied for the night, only one task remained.
With a sigh, you pushed back your chair and made one final round through the executive suite. You straightened the files on your boss's desk, gathered the empty coffee cups that had accumulated throughout the day, and finally reached for the small trash bin tucked neatly beneath the desk. After emptying its contents into a larger garbage bag, you tied the top into a tight knot and headed toward the service hallway.
The building was unusually quiet at this hour. Most of the lights had already been dimmed, leaving only the fluorescent fixtures along the corridor to illuminate your path. The plastic bag rustled softly at your side as you walked toward the disposal room, your mind already drifting to the few hours of sleep waiting for you before tomorrow's schedule began all over again.
Just as you reached the disposal door, one of the overhead lights flickered.
You slowed instinctively, your eyes lifting toward the ceiling before a flicker of movement caught the corner of your vision. A shadow slipped across the hallway with impossible speed, gliding over the polished floor without making so much as a sound. It didn't resemble a person, nor did it seem to belong to anything casting a shadow in the corridor.
Before you could make sense of what you had seen, the shape swept past you, carrying with it a brief gust of cool air. Something heavy rolled across the floor with a dull thud before coming to rest against the toe of your shoe.
A voice drifted through the silence, quiet and strangely layered, as though several whispers had merged into one.
"Take good care of it. It will change your life."
Your head snapped up at once.
"Huh?.. Wait!"
The hallway was empty.
The strange shadow had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. After waiting several seconds for someone, or something, to reappear, you cautiously lowered your gaze to the object resting against your foot.
It looked like an egg, though it was noticeably large, unlike anything you had ever seen before. When you reached down to touch it, the shell was unexpectedly warm, and lifting it required both hands despite its perfectly smooth shape.
You stood there for another moment, glancing up and down the deserted hallway in the hope that someone would step forward with an explanation. No one came.
With little choice but to take it with you, you carried the strange egg back to your office and carefully placed it in the center of your desk beside your color-coded planner. Surrounded by neatly stacked files and tomorrow's itinerary, the oversized egg looked completely out of place, as though it had wandered in from another world and decided to make itself at home.
You stared at it in silence, hoping that the longer you looked, the more sense it would make.
It didn't.
----
You weren't sure when you had fallen asleep.
The sharp ringing of your phone pulled you from a restless slumber, and with a groan, you reached across the nightstand until your fingers found it. Squinting against the brightness of the screen, you saw your boss's name flashing across the display.
That was enough to wake you up.
You answered the call. "Good morning."
"It is anything but a good morning," your boss replied "Care to explain why I found your resignation letter in my mail first thing today?"
You sat upright, convinced you had misheard him.
"My... resignation letter?"
"Yes."
"I didn't write one."
The words left your mouth before you had time to think.
"You're telling me you didn't submit it."
"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about."
Another pause followed.
"...We'll discuss this tomorrow."
The call ended before you could ask another question.
You lowered the phone and remained seated for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. A resignation letter? It didn't make any sense.
Almost absentmindedly, your eyes wandered toward your desk.
The egg was gone.
The space where you had carefully placed the strange object only hours earlier sat completely empty.
You searched the office anyway, checking beneath the desk, behind the filing cabinets, and even inside the storage closet despite knowing how ridiculous it was. The egg had simply vanished.
By then, your exhaustion had begun to outweigh your confusion.
There was nothing else you could do, and standing in the middle of an empty office wasn't going to produce any answers. After gathering your belongings, you locked up and made your way home, hoping that a few hours of uninterrupted sleep would make the entire situation seem a little less absurd.
Your apartment greeted you with welcome silence.
You dropped your bag near the entrance, changed into something more comfortable, and let yourself fall backward onto the bed. For once, tomorrow's meetings, revised schedules, and travel itineraries didn't occupy your thoughts. Instead, your mind kept returning to the same unanswered question.
Who could have left that egg?
It was the last thing you remembered thinking before sleep quietly overtook you.
You had no idea how much time had passed when a loud metallic rattle jolted you awake.
For a brief, disoriented moment, you lay still, listening.
The sound came again.
Someone was trying to unlock your front door.
The handle twisted repeatedly, as though whoever stood outside was convinced they had the right key. When the lock refused to give way, the person tried again with more force before slamming a fist against the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The pounding had only grown louder, and every instinct told you to stay as far away from it as possible. You reached for your phone, already preparing to dial the police, when your hand suddenly stopped.
It simply wouldn't move.
Your fingers remained wrapped around your phone, but your arm refused to lift no matter how hard you tried. It felt as though an invisible hand had settled over yours, gently but firmly holding it in place.
"What...?"
Before panic could fully set in, the deadbolt turned on its own.
And your front door slowly swung inward.
You stared, unable to move as someone stepped inside. Several paper shopping bags rustled as they were set down on your dining table.
Only then did the strange pressure disappear.
Your arm was free again.
You wasted no time marching out of your bedroom, ready to demand an explanation from whoever had just broken into your apartment.
Instead, you found yourself face-to-face with a man who looked as though he'd stepped straight out of a fantasy novel.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, carrying himself with an effortless confidence that somehow made your apartment feel much smaller. Long dark hair fell past his shoulders, his outfit was no less unusual. A white fedora sat neatly atop his head.
The man turned toward you with a smile, completely unfazed by your expression.
"...You don't recognize your savior?" he asked, sounding almost offended. "I went through all the trouble of freeing you from work so you could finally get some proper rest."
"...Excuse me?"
He placed a hand against his chest with exaggerated disappointment.
"And here I thought I'd made quite the memorable first impression."
You continued staring at him.
"Oh, right." He gave a small nod, as though suddenly remembering something important. "Where are my manners? My name is Ashveil."
He offered a polite bow that felt absurdly formal considering he had just let himself into your apartment.
"I'll be in your care from now on."
For a few long seconds, your brain simply refused to process what you'd just heard.
Then you pointed at him.
"...No."
Ashveil tilted his head.
"No?"
"No," you repeated, more firmly this time. "You're a fully grown adult who somehow broke into my apartment. You're not going to be 'in my care.' You're an intruder."
"...That's a rather harsh way to describe your life-changing gift."
"You are literally trespassing."
"I prefer 'unexpected houseguest.'"
"I prefer calling the police."
His smile didn't falter in the slightest. In fact, it somehow widened, as though your response had been exactly what he expected.
He simply folded his arms and smiled, as though this were the most ordinary introduction imaginable.
"I suppose I should explain before you become any more suspicious," he said. "The egg you found yesterday..."
He lightly tapped a finger against his own chest.
"That was me."
You stared at him.
Then you stared a little longer.
"...No."
"It was."
"No," you repeated, shaking your head. "That's not how eggs work."
"It isn't?"
"Eggs hatch into animals. Birds. Reptiles. Maybe something equally strange if you're in a fantasy novel." You gestured vaguely in his direction. "They don't hatch into... this."
"This?"
"A grown man."
Ashveil looked almost offended.
"I'll have you know I hatched very gracefully."
"I don't believe you."
"It happens more often than you'd think."
"I highly doubt that."
The conversation had somehow become even more absurd than the mysterious egg itself, and you were rapidly losing patience.
Without taking your eyes off him, you reached across the kitchen counter and grabbed the nearest thing within reach - a chef's knife resting in the drying rack.
The blade wasn't especially large, but it was enough to make your point.
You held it out between the two of you.
"Don't move."
Ashveil glanced at the knife, then back at you.
"Start talking." Your grip tightened around the handle. "How did you find my apartment?"
"Oh." He blinked once before giving a small shrug. "That was easy."
You frowned.
"Your employee records."
"...My what?"
"The office keeps everyone's personal information," he explained matter-of-factly. "Address, emergency contact, phone number... all neatly organized. It only took a few minutes to find yours."
You lowered the knife for half a second, pinching the bridge of your nose as though that might somehow make this entire conversation disappear.
When you looked up again, Ashveil was still smiling.
"Could you perhaps put the knife down?" he asked. "I was sent here to make your life easier, not to become today's first emergency."
"I have absolutely no reason to believe that."
"You will."
"I won't."
Before either of you could continue arguing, your gaze drifted toward the front entrance.
The door hung crookedly on its hinges.
The wood around the lock had splintered where it had been forced open, and a long crack now ran down one side of the frame.
You slowly turned back toward Ashveil.
"...You broke my door."
He followed your gaze and finally seemed to notice the damage.
"...Ah."
A brief pause.
"I can fix that."
"You better fix that."
"I was planning to."
"You literally broke into my apartment."
"I did say I'd fix it."
"Ugh... I'll handle dinner."
Ashveil looked up from where he was inspecting the damaged front door.
"You don't have to."
"I know." You opened the refrigerator and glanced inside. "But I need to make sure I'm not completely losing my mind, and cooking is about the only normal thing that's happened today."
"Very well."
"Go take a shower. Or... whatever it is you do."
You waved him away before he could say anything else.
The bathroom door clicked shut a moment later, leaving the apartment blissfully quiet again.
You rested both hands on the kitchen counter and let out a slow breath.
This had to be a dream.
Yesterday, your biggest concern had been rearranging your boss's travel schedule. Now there was a mysterious man claiming he'd hatched from an oversized egg, casually helping himself to your apartment after breaking your front door.
None of it made sense.
Shaking the thought aside, you focused on preparing dinner. Chopping vegetables had always been oddly calming, and the familiar rhythm of the knife against the cutting board gave your mind something simple to follow.
Even so, your thoughts refused to settle.
Who or what was Ashveil?
And what had it meant when it said he would change your life?
The questions circled endlessly in your mind until your grip shifted ever so slightly.
The knife slipped.
Instinctively, you braced for the sharp sting across your finger.
Instead... Your hand stopped. Not because you had caught yourself.
That same invisible pressure from earlier settled gently around your wrist, holding it perfectly still just a fraction before the blade reached your skin.
The knife hovered less than a centimeter from your finger.
You slowly lowered the knife onto the cutting board and stared at your hand for several seconds before letting out a shaky breath.
"...Right."
Maybe you weren't imagining everything after all.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened.
Ashveil stepped into the hallway wearing a fresh set of clothes that you were fairly certain hadn't been in your apartment before. His long hair hung damp over his shoulders as he absentmindedly rubbed it with a towel, though it hardly seemed any drier than when he had started.
With another quiet sigh, you set down the plate you had been carrying and walked over.
"Give me that."
He obediently handed over the towel.
You gestured for him to sit, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he did. Standing behind him, you began drying his hair yourself, rubbing the towel through the long strands with far more efficiency than he had managed on his own.
By the time dinner was ready, the atmosphere had become... strangely ordinary.
The two of you sat across from each other at your small dining table, sharing a meal as though this had been your routine for years instead of mere hours.
Ashveil took a bite before his expression softened with unmistakable satisfaction.
"Home-cooked meals truly are the best."
"...Thanks."
"They're even better when they're made by someone precious to you."
You nearly choked on your drink.
"I'm sorry?"
"In my world, food prepared by someone dear carries more than nourishment. It restores strength, helps us recover, and grants considerably more power than an ordinary meal."
"...Your world sounds very convenient."
Your attention drifted toward the phone lying beside your plate.
The screen remained dark.
Normally, by this hour, your boss would have called at least twice about some last-minute change.
Your eyes kept flicking back to the phone, almost expecting it to light up at any moment.
Ashveil noticed. "You don't have to keep checking."
"What do you mean?"
"Your employer won't be contacting you."
A frown creased your brow.
"...How do you know that?"
Just as the question left your mouth, an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over you.
It wasn't the comfortable heaviness that came after a satisfying meal. It was sudden. Your eyelids became impossibly heavy, and your body slumped forward before you could stop it.
"Wha..."
You vaguely felt someone catch you before you slipped from your chair.
Somewhere in the distance, you felt yourself being lifted with surprising ease.
The mattress dipped beneath your weight a few moments later.
A blanket was pulled carefully over you, tucking you in with a tenderness that felt oddly familiar despite knowing you'd only met him a few hours ago.
Then everything faded into silence.
---
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming your face just enough to pull you from sleep. Then just as you remembered something urgent, you sat up almost immediately and glanced toward the front entrance.
The broken door was gone. It looked exactly as it had before, as though it had never been forced open in the first place.
"...He actually fixed it."
The apartment was unusually quiet.
"Ashveil?"
You climbed out of bed and wandered through the apartment, expecting to find him somewhere in the kitchen or living room.
Instead, you found it empty.
Just as you were beginning to wonder where he had gone, a loud yell shattered the morning silence.
"What the hell was that?!"
The voice came from outside.
You hurried to the front door and stepped into your small front yard.
The first thing you saw was Ashveil. He stood near the front gate with his hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, looking as composed as ever.
The second thing you saw was Kento from Human Resources sprawled across the pavement, his suit covered in dirt and leaves. His tie had come loose, one sleeve was torn, and he looked as though he'd lost a fight with something much larger than himself.
"...Kento?"
You hurried over and offered him a hand.
"Are you alright?"
Kento stared at your outstretched hand for a moment before accepting it, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet.
"You..." He looked between you and Ashveil, still breathing heavily. "Didn't you see them?"
"See what?"
"The monsters!"
"...The what?"
"There were.... shadow creatures! They came out of nowhere!" He pointed an accusing finger toward Ashveil. "And he was just standing there!"
You slowly turned toward Ashveil.
He met your gaze with an innocent expression.
"I have no idea what this gentleman is talking about."
Kento looked utterly speechless.
"What do you mean you don't know? They were surrounding me!"
"Were they?" Ashveil tilted his head thoughtfully. "How unfortunate."
Kento opened his mouth, closed it again, then rubbed both hands over his face as though questioning his own sanity.
Beside you, Ashveil's gaze briefly drifted toward the hand you had used to help Kento stand. His eyes lingered there for only a second before he quietly looked away.
After managing to calm Kento down enough that he stopped insisting your front yard had been invaded by monsters, you invited him inside.
A cup of hot tea seemed like the least you could offer after... whatever had happened.
Kento wrapped both hands around the mug, taking a long sip before finally speaking.
"I came because everyone at the company is worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"The boss doesn't think so."
"I already told him yesterday that the one who submitted the resignation letter wasn't me."
"I know." Kento nodded. "That's exactly why I'm here. Whatever happened, we'll sort it out at the office. Just come back with me."
"I'm not going."
"You don't have to resign."
"I didn't do it back then, but I was planning to quit."
Kento leaned forward, his expression growing increasingly earnest.
"Everyone's waiting for you, and your boss has been asking about you since yesterday morning. If you just come back, we can explain everything and.."
"I said no."
"You can't just disappear without discussing-"
Something inside you finally snapped.
You slammed both hands onto the table.
"I said I don't want to go back!" The words spilled out before you could stop them. "I'm tired of being on call every hour of every day. I'm tired of rearranging my entire life around someone else's schedule."
Silence settled over the room.
Your breathing was uneven as the frustration you'd been burying for months finally found its way to the surface.
"I don't want to hear another word. Leave!"
The room fell still. When you opened your eyes again, Kento was gone.
His teacup remained on the table. But the man himself had vanished.
"What...?"
Your gaze slowly shifted toward Ashveil.
"...Where did Kento go?"
"Nowhere."
"What does that even mean?"
Ashveil regarded you quietly before answering.
"It was your command."
"...You're saying he disappeared because I told him to?"
"You wished for him to leave."
You had no response to that.
Instead, you reached for your teacup, lifted it with both hands, and took a long drink as though it contained something much stronger than tea. You desperately wished it did.
After sitting in silence for another minute, you set the empty cup down and rose from your chair.
"I need some air."
You grabbed your coat from the rack by the door and slipped it on without another word before heading outside.
Behind you, Ashveil remained seated.
Only after the front door closed did he slowly uncurl the hand he had kept hidden beneath the table.
A faint crimson glow pulsed across the back of his hand before gradually fading, leaving behind nothing more than a thoughtful smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come.
---
The news of your resignation rippled through your friend group with surprising speed, a detail that baffled you slightly since you couldn't for the life of you remember ever getting around to informing them yourself.
The moment the group chat caught wind of your sudden freedom, your phone buzzed relentlessly with a flurry of texts from Melany, Crystal, and Andree. They unanimously insisted on a celebration, demanding you either throw a party or at least head out for a heavy meal and drinks to toast to your independence.
The following evening, you raided your wardrobe, pulling out your absolute best outfit. As you adjusted your clothes in the mirror, you made a deliberate point to leave Ashveil completely out of the entire plan. He was currently sitting on the sofa, watching you.
"Are you going somewhere important?"
"I'm going out with my friends," you replied, grabbing your keys from the counter. "You'll do perfectly fine on your own, right?"
"Of course."
You nodded and slipped out the door. A small part of you hoped that while you were gone, he might grow bored of the quiet apartment and simply move on to somewhere else. Perhaps, you thought, he had already fulfilled your deepest, subconscious wish of granting you a permanent vacation, and like a mystical genie, he would just vanish back into thin air now that the job was done. You would have to face the reality of finding a new job eventually, but right now, who cared?
Closing your front door, you waited on the curb until your friends pulled up to drive you to the restaurant for dinner. Your inner circle was deliberately small, as you had always prioritized the quality of your relationships over the sheer quantity of people around you. Tonight, it was just the four of you: Melany, who carried an effortlessly cool vibe; Crystal, the very definition of a sweet girl; and Andree, the only other guy in the group.
Determined to drink your heart out and completely wash away the lingering stress of your old job, you all migrated to a neon-lit bar nearby immediately after finishing dinner. Sitting close together, Andree slid a drink toward you and leaned in to chat, preparing to pitch a highly lucrative job offer at his own company.
"Seriously, Y/N, you're too good to be running around ragged for your old boss," Andree said "My company is expanding its marketing division. The pay is better, and honestly... Iād really love to have you around more often."
"That actually sounds amazing," you replied, offering a genuine smile as the continuous flow of alcohol gradually loosened your posture. "I might actually take you up on that after I catch my breath for a week or two."
Before Andree could respond, a chaotic distraction drew your attention across the room. Crystal, who was already visibly hammered, had decided to make a break for the stage to grab the microphone for karaoke, while a panicked Melany scrambled to hold her back.
"Crystal, no! You are not singing tonight, sit down!" Melany yelled, laughing as she tried to drag her back by her jacket sleeves.
"Let me shine, Mel!" Crystal giggled, waving her hands dramatically in the air.
Amused by the spectacle, you chuckled and downed a few more heavy drinks, quickly passing the threshold into total intoxication. The room began to spin in a warm, hazy blur. Seeing you completely vulnerable, relaxed, and giggling at the table, Andree decided this was his moment.
"Y/N," Andree murmured, reaching out to gently touch your arm, drawing your attention back to him. "I've been waiting for a chance to tell you this without your phone constantly interrupting us... I've had feelings for you for a really long time."
Before your sluggish brain could fully process his confession, Andree leaned in, catching you completely off guard in your drunken stupor, and pressed his lips firmly against yours.
Right at that exact second, Ashveil arrived.
His piercing eyes locked onto the precise moment Andreeās mouth met yours. A dark, suffocating aura flared violently around Ashveil, his knuckles tightening to the point of snapping. You were entirely too drunk to comprehend the danger or the sudden drop in the roomās temperature, your head lolling uselessly against the plush. Sensing your lack of resistance and assuming you were just tired, Andree got ahead of himself.
"Let's get you some air." Andree whispered, scooping your limp body up into his arms. Eager to take things to a more private corner, he guided you out of the loud venue and into the dim, secluded parking lot where his car was parked.
But just as Andree opened the passenger door to place you inside the vehicle, Ashveil forcefully intervened.
Out of nowhere, an invisible pressure slammed into Andree, pinning him violently against the side of the car. He froze instantly, his muscles completely locking up as he realized, with absolute terror, that he was entirely paralyzed. Andree tried to gasp, but he couldn't form a single syllable.
Ashveil stepped forward into the pale moonlight, his tailcoat swaying gracefully. He didn't utter a single audible word to the terrified man. Instead, he reached down into the backseat where you lay half-conscious, using his thumb to aggressively and roughly brush over your lips, dragging his skin hard across yours to wipe away any lingering trace of the kiss another man had dared to give you.
With a menacing flick of his wrist, Ashveil made a sharp zipping motion across his own lips. Instantly, Andree's mouth was sealed completely shut, choking back his ability to even breathe properly.
Ashveil then climbed into the backseat beside you. Driven by a desperate attempt to completely overwrite the mark left by the other man, Ashveil pulled you tightly against his chest. His grip was bruisingly tight as he tilted your chin up. He kissed you. He kept pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was entirely devouring you, the fierce pressure leaving your lips aching and tasting faintly of copper, right on the verge of bleeding. You could only let out a soft, breathless whine, your hands weakly clutching at his white coat before your consciousness faded completely.
When he finally pulled away, your head fell back against his shoulder. Ashveil climbed out of the car, effortlessly lifting you into his arms to carry you all the way back home.
Behind him, in the quiet darkness of the parking lot, the vehicle he had left Andree pinned inside suddenly sparked. Within seconds, the car erupted into a violent, roaring blaze, crashing into the concrete wall as the fire consumed it entirely.
Despite the fact that he was acting entirely on his own, Ashveil truly believed that as long as you remained completely ignorant of his actions, his powers would face no consequences.
---
The next morning, you woke up with an absolute monster of a headache that felt like a drill spinning straight into your temples. Your mouth was bone-dry, and your mind was completely fractured. You groaned, clutching your head as you tried to sit up, but the room spun violently. You couldn't for the life of you remember how you had gotten back to your apartment, or when you had even left the bar.
The bedroom door clicked open, and Ashveil stepped inside. He had ditched his dramatic white tailcoat and was holding a steaming bowl of savory broth, the rich aroma cutting through the stale air of the room.
"Don't move too fast." Ashveil said, walking over to set the bowl on your nightstand.
"How did I get home last night?"
He didn't skip a beat, sitting gracefully on the edge of your mattress. "You got entirely drunk. Fortunately, you managed to dial your emergency contact number, which happens to be mine."
You blinked, staring up at him in sheer confusion, your sluggish brain trying to process his words. "My emergency contact? Since when do you even have a phone?"
"Since the beginning. You just never noticed."
Skeptical and desperate for clarity, you snatched your phone from the nightstand and opened the call history. He wasn't lying.
"Oh.." you muttered, leaning back into your pillows, too exhausted to question the logistics of how an egg-born man managed to acquire a cellular network. "Thank you."
You ended up staying in bed for the rest of the day, completely taken care of by him. True to your rule of keeping his tasks simple to prevent yourself from becoming addicted to his dangerous efficiency, you only asked for the bare minimum, but Ashveil anticipated your every need anyway. He brought you whatever you wanted, whether it was a fresh cup of water, extra blankets, or a quiet space to sleep. You only had to stay in bed and rest.
What you didn't know, however, was that while you slept, Ashveil had quietly taken your phone. With a few swift taps, he blocked Melany, Crystal, and Andree's numbers entirely. He muted all notifications and suppressed any incoming alerts. They wouldn't be able to contact you for now, and you wouldn't find out about the horrific "accident" in the parking lot anytime soon. In his mind, it was all for you.
That night, after you fell into a deep, uninterrupted slumber, Ashveil quietly slipped out.
He walked the empty, fog-laden streets until a dark, shifting silhouette materialized on the concrete ahead of him. It was shaped like the shadow of a massive hunting dog. The creature ran ahead, stopping directly in front of an apartment building where Crystal lived.
Ashveil stopped, looking up at the structure with a sharp, humorless smile. "So... one of them is here."
With a silent command, the dog-like creature dissolved, flowing across the ground and vanishing seamlessly back into Ashveilās own shadow. He slipped into the building, entering the apartment completely undetected. He meticulously set the scene, tampering with the bathroom wiring to make it look like a tragic accident - a sudden surge of electricity right after she had finished bathing.
Stepping back out into the cold night air, Ashveil turned his gaze toward the eastern side of the city, preparing to track down his next target.
Suddenly, a low, resonant voice echoed sharply inside his own head:
"Acting on your own, driven by mortal desires... you will receive the consequences of your backfire."
Ashveil paused on the empty sidewalk, his gray eyes narrowing in defiance. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the risks of using his power to alter the fates of those around you without your explicit command, but he didn't care.
"I'll be fine," he muttered back to the silence of his own mind, his voice dripping with arrogance. "As long as Y/N is safe, I don't care."
Deciding it was wiser to space out the timeline so the deaths wouldn't look too suspicious to the human authorities, he called off the hunt for the night.
Later on, he quietly returned to your side. The bedroom was dark and peaceful, the only sound being your soft, even breathing. Ashveil looked down at your sleeping face, a wave of intense, possessive devotion washing over him. He leaned down, gently pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
"I'm sorry."
Carefully, so as not to wake you, he climbed into the bed and lay down right next to you. Pulling the blankets up, he closed his eyes, finally letting himself fall asleep by your side.
----
The next morning, you rolled over to find Ashveil lying completely still beside you. The usual vibrant energy that radiated from him was entirely gone. When your hand accidentally brushed his shoulder, you gasped, his skin was burning, radiating a terrifyingly high fever that seemed to scorch right through his clothes.
Panicking, you shook his shoulder. "Ashveil? Ashveil, wake up."
There was no response. His long hair was damp with sweat, and his jaw was tightly clenched. You didn't know what to do. You couldn't exactly call a normal human ambulance for a man who hatched from an egg, and you had no idea how his anatomy even worked.
Falling back on instinct, you resorted to traditional remedies. You rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a bowl of cold water and a cloth, and gently pressed it to his forehead to cool him down. You ran to the kitchen and fetched some fever medicine, but when you tried to coax him to take it, he wouldn't wake up to swallow it. He couldn't even sit up.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths, a memory suddenly sparked in your mind. You remembered what he had told you at the kitchen table:
"In my world, food prepared by someone dear carries more than nourishment. It restores strength, helps us recover, and grants considerably more power than an ordinary meal."
"Please let this work." you whispered, scrambling out of bed and rushing to the kitchen.
You quickly prepared a simple, warm broth, pouring all your focus and genuine worry into making it. Bringing the steaming bowl back into the bedroom, you sat down beside him. Since he was completely unconscious, you had to force him to eat somehow. Carefully lifting his head, you used a small spoon to gently part his lips, coaxing a tiny bit of the warm liquid into his mouth, stroking his throat until his reflexes kicked in and he finally swallowed it.
You kept going, patiently feeding him spoonful after spoonful, entirely driven by the terrifying thought that he was about to die right here. You couldn't let someone who had taken such meticulous care of you die right inside your house, under your watch. He had acted weird, dramatic, and intensely overprotective from the moment he arrived, but you knew deep down that he harbored absolutely no ill will toward you.
Miraculously, your efforts worked.
By midday, the terrifying heat radiating from his skin began to subside.
That night, the peaceful quiet of the bedroom shattered in your mind. You suddenly gasped, your hands flying to your neck as an invisible, agonizing pressure tightened around your throat so hard you couldn't breathe. You thrashed against the mattress, suffocating, until your eyes flew open.
It was just a dream.
Beside you, Ashveil was still sleeping deeply, his fever completely gone, his breathing slow and steady. You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your throat, and tried to lie back down to sleep again.
But the moment you drifted off, the nightmare shifted into something far stranger. You found yourself standing inside a vast, pitch-black void. Out of the darkness, a chorus of disjointed, powerful voices echoed around you, their words drilling into your mind:
"Do not let him get past you... You must keep him in check... "
The dream snapped like a brittle thread, and you woke up to the soft light of morning creeping through the curtains. The heavy, eerie feeling of the void instantly melted away as a rich, savory aroma caught your attention.
You walked into the kitchen to find Ashveil setting containers down on the table. He looked entirely back to his usual, vibrant self.
"Good morning, Y/N," he said, offering a smile. "I went out and bought some food. I figured neither of us really has the energy to cook after yesterday."
"Thanks." you murmured, still a little dazed by the bizarre dreams. The food was delicious, and eating it finally brought some color back to your face.
Once the containers were cleared away, Ashveil looked out the window at the bright, sunny day and then turned to you. "You know, staying cooped up at home too much wouldn't be good for your health. Why don't we go for a walk?"
You looked down at your hands, thinking of the heavy grief and the strange nightmares. He was right, you needed fresh air. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
The local park was beautiful, bathed in warm sunlight, and for a moment, you actually felt a sense of peace. But that peace was short-lived.
"Help! Someone help me! He took my purse!"
A sharp, panicked scream pierced the air. A few yards away, a man in a dark hoodie was sprinting away from an elderly woman who was clutching her chest, looking utterly distraught.
"Hey! Stop right there!" you yelled, adrenaline instantly surging through your veins.
Without a second thought, you bolted after the thief, your legs pumping as you tried to close the distance. Ashveil effortlessly kept pace right beside you. But after a solid minute of running, the lingering exhaustion from the past few days caught up to you. Your lungs burned, your steps slowed, and you had to double over, gripping your knees as you gasped for air.
The thief was getting away, rapidly approaching the edge of the park.
"Ashveil!" you choked out, pointing a trembling finger toward the fleeing man. "Go! Chase him down and bring that purse back! I'll wait here!"
"Alright, I'll be back soon."
Ashveil sprinted past the tree line of the park, his eyes locked onto the distant silhouette of the thief. But the man was desperate; he cut sharply into a maze of dense, overgrown alleyways, scrambling through a tight gap in a chain-link fence. By the time Ashveil effortlessly vaulted over the metal barrier, the street was empty. The thief had vanished into the shadows of the urban sprawl.
Ashveil stopped, his expression darkening into a cold, dangerous sneer. Losing a target was unacceptable, especially on a direct order from you.
With a fluid motion, Ashveil extended his left hand, his silver watch catching the dim light of the alley. He closed his eyes, tapping into the dark reservoir of his power. From the depths of his own shadow, a low, ominous growl vibrated through the concrete. A thick, ink-like darkness seeped outward from his boots, spreading across the pavement like spilled oil before shifting into the faint, glowing vapor of a tracking spell. Suddenly, a trail of glowing, ethereal footprints lit up the ground, weaving sharply toward a crumbling, abandoned house at the end of the block.
Inside the decaying structure, the thief was breathing heavily, huddled in a corner. Believing he had successfully escaped, he greedily dumped the contents of the purse onto a dusty crate, scrambling through everything he had stolen today- cash, cards, and trinkets.
A floorboard creaked. The thief snapped his head up. Ashveil slowly stepped through the broken doorway, his white fedora tilted low.
The man panicked for a split second, but seeing that Ashveil was alone and unarmed, he sneered. He reached into his waistband and pulled out a heavy switchblade, flicking the metal open with a sharp clack. Armed and confident, the thief launched himself forward, thrusting the blade directly toward Ashveil's chest.
Before the blade could even pierce the fabric of his coat, a sudden, agonizing weight slammed into the thief. The man fell heavily down to his feet, dropping his weapon as the metal clattered uselessly against the floorboards. He gasped, staring in absolute horror at his own flesh. Out of nowhere, deep, bloody bite marks began to manifest rapidly across his hands and arms, as if an invisible jaw were clamping down on him.
The shadows in the corners of the room detached themselves from the walls. Thousands of shadowy, ethereal wolves with glowing red eyes swarmed out of the darkness, their incorporeal forms snapping and snarling. Within a terrifying, breathless second, the wave of shadow wolves completely enveloped the screaming man, swallowing him whole until there was nothing left but empty air and the heavy silence of the room.
Ashveil casually stepped over the spot where the man had just been. He picked up the old woman's purse, checking to make sure everything was inside, while deliberately leaving the other stolen bags behind on the crate. He turned on his heel and glided back to the park.
When he returned to your side, you were still waiting patiently with the elderly woman. Ashveil held out the bag with a polite, seamless bow. "Your property, ma'am. Untouched."
The old woman let out a breathless gasp, clutching the purse to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes as she checked inside. "Oh, thank goodness! My medicine, my late husband's photos... everything is here! I can't thank you both enough."
Exhausted but relieved, you smiled. "We're just glad you're okay."
"Please, you must let me reward you," the woman insisted. "I own a little bakery just a few blocks away. Come to my house!"
You looked at Ashveil, whose stomach let out a perfectly timed, low rumble. You chuckled. "We'd love to."
As the three of you began walking toward the bakery, you looked up at the tall, formidable man beside you. He was walking with his chin held high, looking immensely proud of himself.
"Hey," you said, nudging his arm. "Lower your head for a second."
Ashveil blinked in confusion but obligingly tilted his head down, his bangs falling into his face. Smiling, you reached up and gently patted his head. "Good job."
A sudden, faint flush of color hit his cheeks, and his gray eyes widened slightly before a deeply satisfied, softer smile graced his lips. He walked a little closer to your side the rest of the way.
The bakery was cozy, and the old woman treated you both like royalty, piling a plate high with decadent slices of cake and pouring hot, fragrant tea. By the time you both returned home late that night after a wonderful meal, the exhaustion of the day finally crashed over you. Your eyelids were heavy, and you wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the mattress and sleep.
You kicked off your shoes and walked straight toward the bed, but a strong hand gently caught your wrist.
"Ah, ah," Ashveil murmured, a playful but firm look on his face as he pointed toward the bathroom. "Go brush your teeth first, Y/N. Then you can sleep."
"Too tired..." you groaned, but he wouldn't budge, standing like an unmovable wall until you finally sighed, trudged into the bathroom, and brushed your teeth.
When you finally crawled under the covers, you fell into sleep instantly. But the moment your consciousness faded, you found yourself trapped inside the dark, oppressive void once again.
"Be cautious of your actions... The balance is shifting... You must control him before it is too late..."
You woke up early the next morning. Determined to shake off the unsettling nightmares, you quickly showered and dressed in a professional outfit. You whipped up a quick breakfast, eating your portion in silence before leaving a generous plate covered on the kitchen table for Ashveil.
Just as you were reaching for your keys, you heard the bedroom door click open. Ashveil stepped out, his long hair slightly messy from sleep.
"Where are you going?"
"Iām going out for a job interview." you replied, checking your watch. "I need to get moving. If there are two of us living in this apartment, my savings won't survive the next few months."
"You don't need to go. I am more than capable of taking care of both of us."
"Sure. Unless you've suddenly acquired a bank account and a legal identity."
You stepped toward the entryway, but before your hand could touch the brass knob, Ashveil glided forward with impossible speed. His tall, broad frame completely blocked the door, his shadow looming over you.
You stopped, looking up at him, ready to tell him to stop playing around, but the words died in your throat. The playful, eager-to-please housemate you had spent the previous day with was gone.
"Ashveil, move," you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound firm. "I'm going to be late."
"No."
Before you could even draw a breath to argue, a sudden, heavy pressure materialized around your neck. It wasn't a physical hand, but a crushing, invisible force that wrapped tightly around your throat like a suffocating leash. With a pull, Ashveil yanked the invisible tether forward, forcing your body to stumble toward him until you crashed lightly against his chest.
Your hands flying to your neck, but your fingers found nothing but empty, pressurized space.
Ashveil leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, his hair brushing your cheek.
"You must obey me, Y/N," he murmured, "You must obey because I told you to, and because I am a far stronger entity than you could ever comprehend."
He reached out, his thumb gently tracing your jawline, a terrifying contrast to the suffocating leash still holding you in place.
"You indeed are my master," Ashveil whispered, "But you do not know how to take care of yourself. I will take care of you. But you will stay here, where you are safe."
You sat up with a violent gasp, your hands instantly flying to your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut, rubbing the skin of your throat, but there was no leash.
It was just another nightmare.
Lately, it felt like you hadn't had a single normal, peaceful dream. It was always the dark void, the warning voices, or Ashveil turning into a terrifying captor.
Breathing heavily, you turned your head to look at the man sleeping soundly beside you. Would he actually do that to me? you wondered, a chill creeping down your spine. Is he capable of turning on me like that?
"You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I'll be too shy to sleep."
He hadn't even opened his eyes, but a slow, amused smirk was already forming on his lips.
You let out a shaky sigh, collapsing back onto your pillow. "I had another nightmare. About you."
"About me?"
"You used some kind of invisible leash around my neck and forced me to obey you."
Ashveil frowned, shifting his weight to prop himself up on one elbow. He looked down at you, his expression remarkably soft. "I would never do anything to harm you. Your mind is just playing tricks on you because you've been so stressed."
You looked from his sincere eyes down to his throat, exposed by the loose collar of his shirt. A sudden, reckless impulse flared within you, an urge to test just how deep his compliance really went.
Without a word, you suddenly shifted, climbing directly on top of him. You straddled his waist, pinning his hips down, and brought both of your hands up to his throat.
Ashveil didn't flinch. Instead, he just looked up at you from the pillow, his eyes filled with a mixture of intense amusement and absolute surrender. He relaxed his posture completely, tilting his chin back slightly to give your hands better access.
"Suit yourself," he murmured, "My life is in your hands anyway."
As he spoke, he slowly raised his right hand. His fingers, cool and deceptively gentle, entwined with yours where they rested against his pulse. He leaned into your touch, using his thumb to softly fondle your fingers, tracing the knuckles and stroking the skin with a slow, hypnotic rhythm that felt entirely too intimate.
You stared down at him, your heart hammering violently against your ribs. He was entirely at your mercy, completely unbothered by the fact that you were pinning him down.
Suddenly feeling incredibly foolish, you dropped your hands and scrambled off him, sliding back to your side of the bed.
"Yeah... that was insane of me. I'm sorry." you muttered, pulling the blankets tightly over your shoulders and turning your back to him, your face burning with embarrassment as you closed your eyes, desperate for sleep to claim you.
He waited patiently until your breathing elongated. The moment you were completely out, the soft, docile expression on Ashveil's face vanished. He sat up silently. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sudden movement near you. A long, slimy, pale worm-like parasite.
With terrifying speed, Ashveil reached down and snatched the writhing thing out of the air. He didn't flinch as it coated his skin in a foul residue; instead, he brought it close to his face, his expression twisting into a mask of pure malice. He squeezed his fist closed, the sound of the parasite crunching and dissolving into black smoke echoing faintly in the quiet room.
"Do not dare try to ruin my peaceful life."
He turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction as he leaned over your sleeping form. His fingers gently parted your collar, checking the pale skin of your neck.
"But having a leash around your neck isn't such a bad idea."
Satisfied, he pulled the blanket back over your shoulders.
Quietly sliding out of the bed, Ashveil glided across the room. He stepped out into the hallway, locking your bedroom door behind him with a silent click of his power so you wouldn't wander out.
He walked down the corridor and pushed open the bathroom door.
Inside the bathtub sat Melany. Your last living friend was bound tightly with thick ropes, heavy silver duct tape sealing her mouth shut. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes wide with a mixture of suffocating rage and absolute terror as she looked up at the tall man.
Ashveil closed the door behind him, leaning casually against the sink as he looked down at her.
"I promise you, it's not going to hurt much," he said, his tone dripping with a terrifyingly polite, smooth sarcasm. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you setting up that pathetic thief and the old lady at the park? A transparent little plot to separate us so you could get to Y/N."
Melany thrashed against her bonds, a muffled, angry scream dying against the tape.
"Lucky for you, I caught you sneaking around before you even managed to step foot inside. Tell me, were you planning to tell Y/N the truth about Andree? About Crystal?" He shook his head, a dark, wicked smile curving his lips. "I'm afraid that ain't going to happen."
A few muffled noises later, the bathroom fell completely silent.
Ashveil calmly turned on the faucet, washing his hands before grabbing a cloth to meticulously clean up the bathtub, wiping away any trace of the struggle.
Just as he finished rinsing the porcelain, your muffled voice echoed from the hallway.
"Ashveil?"
The murderous chill in his aura vanished instantly, replaced by a bright, serene warmth. As long as you continued to solely depend on him, and as long as he continued to fulfill your deepest, subconscious wish for a life free of burdens, his power would only grow stronger. And eventually, he would manage to have you entirely for his own.
In 2009 i was a wee little art student of 19 baby baby years. During that time i was also part of a group of people known to arrange swedish anime conventions called Uppcon.
I was known in the social circle as the artsy person. And one of the ppl in the staff contacted me reg a client who looked for an artist. It was the producer of Caramellagirls. We chatted over facebook and agreed to meet irl at a cafe.
And this is where i did every single mistake a inexperienced artist tend to do when they get their firstĀ āart gigā. I was so excited i didnt pick up on all the warning signs;
- he insisted on paying for the food for me. Which my broke ass student brain didnt object to, but now afterwards i realize that you should avoid this. Dont give a sus client any reason to put you in any kind of debt, even if its just a lunch.
- he was unclear about what he wanted from me. I knew he wanted me to redesign the characters because at this point in time, he p much wanted to make bank out of the caramelldansen meme (which was at this point in time an outdated meme but not old enough to be nostalgic. It was cringe.) we discussed ideas and concepts and basically he wanted me to redesign the characters because this was also that time when the caramellagirls looked hideous:
These arent even 3d models. Theyre 2d images of 3d rendered models than they then animated by making them appear to be the actual 3d models. You know, if theyd turn the camera a bit to the side the girls would morph into some broken nightmare.
I dont remember everything but after the meeting i decided to spend my free time drawing some example ideas to show him.
Mind you we had not made any kind of official agreement or contract, no mention of how much ill get paid besidesĀ āofc youre getting paid :)ā and i didnt even know how to make an invoice.
So i drew some sketches to show him, as well as an idea on how to translate anime-face proportions to work in profile view and front view. I clearly remember him calling me on the phone and say thatĀ āthey look hideous and disfiguredā (among other ableist words). Like yeah ok sure you didnt like my style approach but dont be fucking rude?
after some work i sent him three drawings, which are these:
I actually no longer have the original photoshop files because the producer didnt realize that when you drag and drop a file from a dropbox folder, it removes the file from the dropbox.
But he liked this one. He paid me 100USD and just decided that i apparently had done my job now and left???
but nah he wasnt done. He would occasionally call me asking if i could make variations of them. Mind yall i was in college and stressed out about my own life but i havent yet learned to say no. But one day when he called i had a cold but i guess i sounded as if my pet just died or smth because after i told him i ādont have timeāĀ he excused himself and ended the call.
So yeah he used my inexperience w clients to make art for a low price and now whenever i see any new caramellagirls content, its so obvious how they havent found any new artist because they use my drawing as much as they can lmao:
Yes they flipped the blonde girls eye and it def didnt work well lmao.
Also the reason i havent talked about this until now is because:
THERE WAS NO NDA. SINCE WE DIDNT SIGN A CONTRACT THERE WAS NEVER AN NDA. I WONT LOSE ANYTHING BY TELLING THIS LMAO.
worst fkn art gig ever. But hey at least the caramellagorls look less hideous!
blakekathryn
snowghoul
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
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