୨୧ gachiakuta men as halloween tropes !
♡ featuring. enjin, zanka, tamsy, jabber, august, follo, fu, zodyl, corvus
Enjin as the big bad wolf
Branches scrape against your red silk cape, the hem of your short skirt brushing your thighs as you walk, basket of sweets swinging lightly in your hand.
The wind howls through the dead trees — but it’s not the wind that makes you shiver.
You feel his gaze before you even see him.
Then he steps out of the shadows — tall, feral, the moonlight carving silver along his dark fur. His eyes find yours, and everything in you stills.
“You shouldn’t have wandered here alone, doll,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough, brushing against your ear like a dangerous promise.
He leans close. You can feel the heat of him, his breath ghosting over your neck, the faint brush of sharp fangs that never quite touch.
It’s terrifying, intoxicating.
And when he smiles — you know you’re not running anywhere.
The calls started hours ago.
The voice on the other end — playful, low, too familiar. You knew it was him. You always know.
Tall. Masked. Knife glinting faintly in the dim light.
Your pulse jumps, your feet move — but not fast enough.
He catches you easily, laughter muffled beneath the mask, a sound that curls straight into your spine.
You stumble backward until your back hits the wall.
The blade drifts over your clothes — not cutting, just tracing. Cold metal against warm skin.
“You thought you were safe, beautiful ?” he whispers, voice teasing, amused, like he already knows the answer.
You feel his hand slides to your waist, the air between you burns hotter than fear ever could.
The house breathes. You can feel it — cold air, trembling candlelight, shadows whispering in corners that shouldn’t move.
You sit beside him, fingers laced tightly together. His hand is warm, grounding.
“Focus on me,” he murmurs, steady voice cutting through the chaos. “Not them.”
The table rattles beneath your palms. Something unseen sighs across your neck — but you don’t flinch.
Tamsy’s thumb draws slow circles on your skin, a rhythm only you can feel.
And when the last candle flickers out, he looks at you — calm, soft, endlessly sure.
“See ? Nothing could touch you while I’m here.”
The carnival lights flicker like broken stars.
Music blares — warped, chaotic — and somewhere between the laughter and smoke, you see him.
White paint. Red smile. Eyes that look like trouble dressed as charm.
You take a step back. He takes two forward.
Your spine hits the wall and his hand lands beside your head.
“You’re too serious, sweetheart,” he hums, brushing a lock of hair from your face.
His grin is sharp enough to hurt, but when he leans in — you don’t stop him.
The kiss is messy. Wild. Dizzying.
He tastes like smoke and sugar and something you shouldn’t want.
He laugh against your lips — the sound manic and beautiful.
The sound hits first — that violent grind of metal tearing the silence apart.
Your heart leaps straight to your throat.
Shirt stained, mask cracked, eyes gleaming with something between danger and amusement.
“Got you good, didn’t I ?”
His voice is rough, half-laughing, like he’s enjoying this a little too much.
You shove him, breath shaky, but he catches your wrist mid-motion, pulling you flush against him.
“Not so fast, little one.”
The chainsaw hums softly between you — but it’s his heartbeat you hear louder.
Lightning splits the night.
The lab glows for a moment — all metal and madness. You jolt awake, wrists bound to cold steel. Leather straps bite into your skin when you try to move.
And then you see him — wild-eyed. Long hair falling over his face. Exhausted. Beautiful in his ruin.
“Awake, darling ?” he breathes, voice trembling with something between triumph and madness.
He steps closer, the light catching the curve of his smile. His gloved hand brushes your cheek — soft, reverent, shaking.
“I only ever wanted to make something that could love me,” he whispers.
For a heartbeat, he looks almost gentle. Almost human.
Thunder roars overhead. The syringe gleams in his grasp — alive with faint blue light.
He leans closer, voice low, trembling with devotion and madness alike. “Don’t be afraid, my love,” he whispers. “After this… we’ll be together forever.”
The forest glows pale blue beneath the moonlight.
He’s standing there, awkward and gentle, hands trembling slightly as he looks at you — your white gown glowing faintly in the dark.
“I… hope you don’t regret this,” he murmurs.
The ring slides onto your finger, his touch hesitant but warm. His eyes meet yours, wide and uncertain, and for a heartbeat, the world stops breathing.
You smile softly, veil brushing against your cheeks.
“Thank you, Follo,” you whisper, voice trembling like a ghost of wind. “I will always love you.”
And somewhere, the dead woods sigh — finally at peace.
He sits perfectly still in the corner, porcelain face half in shadow.
You blink once — he’s gone.
Then a whisper brushes against your ear.
“You shouldn’t play with cursed toys.”
You turn, too fast — and he’s right there, eyes gleaming, smile soft and knowing.
A gloved finger trails down your cheek, light as silk.
Your breath catches. You try to move, but it’s like the air thickens around you.
Later, when the lights go out, you swear you hear it — his laughter, low and sweet, echoing from under your bed.
And maybe… you don’t really want it to stop.
He’s hopelessly in love with you.
Velvet shadows swallow the room. He steps closer — elegant, deliberate, his gaze dark and ancient, carrying centuries of longing.
“You shouldn’t have invited me in,” he murmurs, his voice silk and command woven together.
His fingers hover near your neck, not touching — just feeling your pulse through the air.
He doesn’t feed. He watches. Consumes you with his eyes instead.
“I… can’t have you,” he breathes, the words trembling, almost pained.
But his gaze lingers anyway, hungry, hopelessly in love, refusing to let go.
The tragedy of it makes your chest ache — because maybe, just maybe, you’d let him bite.
The city sleeps, but the night doesn’t.
You walk fast, clutching your coat tighter, footsteps echoing on wet pavement.
Strong, sudden, spinning you around and slamming you into the wall.
“You shouldn’t have wandered alone,” he growls, voice low and rough, breath ghosting your jaw.
You struggle, heart hammering, but his grip only tightens — firm, possessive, trembling with something darker than anger.
One hand covers your mouth. The other traces your jaw like he’s memorizing it.
Darkness. Silence. Then you wake — tied to a chair, air cold and heavy.
He’s sitting across from you, legs apart, calm, eyes glinting in the half-light.
“Well,” he says, a slow, dangerous smile curling on his lips, “now you’re all mine.”
© dollysveil ♡ special edition
