Hi can we have Sebek and jack just like anything for them. I rlly liked ur bicep pics drabble and I'd love more
Jack Howl
He wouldn't be the type to beat up the man you're talking to, but he'd be lying if he didn't feel a bit jealous when you're all giggly with another man.
Sure, technically you're already his, yet there's a tingle of jealousy in his heart, wishing he could make you laugh like that too. His mind drifts off into his thoughts, barely even realising that you're approaching him.
"Jack?" you call out for like the hundredth time.
"Huh?" he snaps out of his thoughts. "Do you need something?"
Your brows pinch together. "No, I think you need something. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he says, eyes not looking at you but something behind you.
Turning around, you angle yourself to see what he's seeing. Then you realise. You let out an "ohh" when you reach the answer.
"Seriously?" you grin cheekily. "Even after months of dating, you think I'd prefer that dude over you?"
He's speechless.
"I love you more than anything in the world, Jack," you reply before pressing a kiss onto his cheek and skipping away, a slight annoyance gnawing at you, baffled that he'd think you would love someone else.
Sebek Zigvolt
"HUMAN!" he yells. "WHO IS THIS PERSON?"
You flinch at the loud, familiar voice. "Sebek, no need to scream."
"Sorry, but you haven't answered my question," he calms down, chest puffing to make himself look tougher.
"They're my friend from my class," you reply. "And this is Sebek: my boyfriend."
The other person lets out an audible gasp. "Oh! Nice to meet you!" they give out a hand to shake but Sebek ignores it.
"OF COURSE IT IS!" he starts yelling again.
The atmosphere became awkward quickly, and the 3rd person opted to just leave before anything else happens, leaving you and the green-haired Diasomnia boy alone.
"The great Sebek can be jealous?" you ask, turning your head at him as soon as the guy isn't in your view.
"I wasn't jealous!" he replies.
You start bursting out in laughter uncontrollably. "I can't believe you," you wipe a fake tear away from your eye.
He pouts, looking away angrily.
joasdsaidwod THANK YOU ANONN!!! I hope you enjoyed this even tho my writing's continued deteriorating badly...
sooooo a valentines day pack....with a Valentine....curious indeed
inspired by a post and a subsequent discussion under it
i thought they'd chill out at home, do each others makeup and watch movies, as teens do.
i didn't know what to do with Spell's shirt, so i just kinda stared at my doll's belt for a while and tried to pick out whatever the fuck he had printed on there, and then added a few glyphs which i think mean protection and lasting relationship, hopefully didn't misinterpret anything!
Do you think there's moments where Grim wakes you up and he then says something incredibly terrifying that makes you stare up at the ceiling in muted horror for the rest of the night? Like how small children go up to the adults and say something unintentionally unsettling. They don't realize the dread their sentence brings, the feeling of unease. But you as an older person does. You sleeping and Grim wakes you up, unusually quiet and serious and he says something like-
"Do you see them? In the mirror?"
"What? Grim what are you talking about-?"
"The eyes. The inky eyes do you see them? At night?"
".....W-wha-"
"I do sometimes. They like to watch us sleep."
Just some unhinged shit that leaves you completely terrified but Grim doesn't think too much about it because he's been homeless and probably seem some shit. So it's quite tame for him. Not realizing that he's given you the trademark dread.
Leona Vil Rook and Jade seperate reactions to a gn non yuu reader calling them a big juicy steak and explaining it's cus they love steak and they love these loser guys (think like someone calling their s/o honey, sugar cube exct)
Leona Kingscholar
"You're like a big juicy steak, y'know?" you say suddenly, eyes squinting as if in thought.
"What?" he asks.
"Y'know... cus I like steak and I like you" you say, "and you're pretty big so you're kinda like a big juicy steak."
He's baffled by your audacity. Nobody ever says shit like this to him and doesn't get called an absolute imbecile except for you. He fights the urge to say you're weird.
And you can tell. But all you do is give him a huge grin anyway.
He lets out an exasperated sigh. "I guess," he replies, still confused where it came from but accepting it nonetheless.
Then, you two continue on with another topic of conversation, as if you hadn't said something completely different.
Vil Schoenheit
"I've been thinking for a while and..." you trail off, adding unnecessary suspense. "You're like a big juicy steak to me."
Vil's dumbfounded? Speechless? Either one of those explains his feelings pretty well since he's been called every name in the book except for that. However, he's not too surprised since it comes from you.
"What do you mean?" he asks for clarification.
"Y'know since I love you and all just as much as I love my juicy steaks," you smile. "And not to mention you're quiteā"
He cuts you off before you can say anything inappropriate. "I get it."
"It's exactly like how people call their partners 'honey' or 'sugar cube', because that's what they typically like," you explain.
"Thanks," he says sarcastically.
Rook Hunt
"Rook!" you call out his name, approaching him excitedly.
He reciprocates the action, greeting you as well. "Trickster! How are you?"
You smile. "I'm good, I just wanted to tell you something,"
His eyes widen, wondering what you might have to say. "What is it?"
"You're a big juicy steak to me," you answer, grinning cheekily while also hoping he'll get what you're trying to say without explanation.
There's a hint of confusion in his eyes before it clicks. "Oh! Is it because you love me just like how you love your steaks?"
"Yes!" you reply, giggling.
"Is that with the addition that I'm biā" he continues.
"No," you interrupt his train of thought.
Jade Leech
There's the usual grin of his sharp teeth when you go up to him, ready to announce your fascinating thoughts.
"Jade," you call. "I've been thinking,"
His ears perk up. "What is it?"
"I've been thinking about how you're exactly like a big juicy steak to me," you say.
"Oh? Why?" he asks.
"Because I love you! And I love juicy steaksā especially if they're big," you say, feeling yourself drool as you think about it.
"I see, thank you then," he says, gladly taking that as a compliment, not even questioning how your mind came to this conclusion, ignoring the last part of your speech.
Because it's just factually correct (190 cm/6' 2' btw).
Doll! Yan! Vil Schoenhiet, who used to hate how people always chose the new, sweetest Neige life-sized doll over him.
Children, pleading and tugging on their parents' sleeves, shrieking, "I want that one!" with watery, fat tears filling their big, naive eyes. Adults and teenagers looking at their checking accounts, wondering if they could afford it; if it'd be worth the tens of thousands for the "Knight and Shining Armor," who defeated the evil queen. The Fairest One. Praise slipping from their lips, seemingly never-ending.
Furthering that twisted, sickening feeling that coiled within his cloth-stuff-filled chest. Why didn't they look at him with such reverence? He was far fairer than the messy-haired brunette, wasn't he? Prettier. Yet no matter what. They only spared him a meaningless glance. A small comment, maybe two.
But it wasn't enough.
Until you showed up, gawking at him through the glass case that enveloped him and not that pesky faux hero. Your eyes shimmering with what could only be described as infatuation. A need for him. So enamored, he was half certain your eyes would bulge out of your head, oblivious that he could see you through the glass eyes that'd been structured in him. A sight similar to ones he'd seen from othersāstaring at Neigeābut never him.
To a point, when you turned your heel and walked awayāwith purpose, he now recalledāhe almost missed your presence in front of him.
And when the deep, crimson velvet curtain draped him in a shroud of darkness so thick it felt suffocating, he couldn't shake the spike of worry that he'd never see that expression on any other. On you, again. Even as he was taken from his glass case, instead replaced with a cheap cardboard, and hauled away to a land he'd never been, from everything he'd ever seen. Ever known.
Only to meet your eyes once more, however long later. One of your hands clutching a box cutter, the other holding apart the flimsy cardboard opening. The illumination of the sun's beams from behind you hitting your features in a way that made you glow. Determination and awe rippling off of your mien in waves.
This time, without a silly glass pane between the two of you.
Doll! Yan! Vil Schoenhiet, who canāt help but love you after you picked him up from that dump of a storeā¦ So much so that he drowned in it.
Drank in your attention every time you touched up his paint and dusted him off, your brush feather light against his porcelain. As if you were worshiping the statue of a deity, and not some doll who'd shatter into pieces if you nudged him too much. Making sure he was never blemished, swathed in the finest clothes you could seize from life-size doll makers and collectors.
Always so āpretty,ā as you cooed one day, so close to his ear that he was certain his heart wouldāve beat if he were human. Alive, in the way that you were. Talking to him as if he was realāwell, technically, he wasn't that you knew ofārambling about your day endlessly, filling the place with the melodic sound of your voice. Turning the television on when you had to leave, making sure he was always entertained whenever you weren't homeā¦ Even if he wasn't that much of a fan of it.
He'd even heard you on the phone once or twice, asking for a custom design for him, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself, knowing you were too distracted with the other person on the line to hear. You could be so cute, sometimes.
And he'd consider this life ratherā¦ Nice.
In a way, it was limiting. Having to only move when you weren't around or asleep, 'forcing' him to take careful note of the time and your schedule. Your habitsā¦ Surreptitiously stretching his ball joints as he wandered about the house. Looking for new things you'd manage to slip past him, going through your closet and dressers, organizing themāpurely out of generosity, of course; you'd done so much for himā¦
And how could he possibly let you be so disorganized in return..? How could you possibly leave your keys there? In that little bowl? Don't you know how vulnerable they are? Sighā¦ He'll put them somewhere safe. Don't worry, darling. Not a soul will get into your home, or out, not with him there. He'll make sure of that.
Just what was he going to do with you, spuddling?
But it wasn't bad, being someone'sā¦ Being yours, and only yours. Just as you were his. It wasn't like you could possibly think of bringing a partner here, of courseā¦ Someone subpar to him. You wouldn't want to make them feel oh-so-jealous, would you...? They wouldn't even have a chance against him, even if you'd presumed him to beā¦ Unmoving.
You knew that, and so did he.
He wasn't named the "Fairest One of Them All" for no reason.
Until the day you brought home a Neige doll.
You'd come home later that day, an unusual thing for you, but he wouldn't put it against you. He'd be mercifulā¦ But when your voice rang out, something dragging behind you, something in him stirred. A sinking suspicion. And he knew, whatever was in that box, so similar to his when he arrived, he wouldn't enjoy it.
And he didn't.
The betrayal was instant as soon as you'd opened the box. Seeing those soft, rounded cheeks and warm, deep chocolate eyesāa stark contrast to his elegant features and calculating lilac irisesāmade whatever warmth he'd felt from your arrival frigid.
How could you do this? To him?
He couldn't believe it. Refused to, perhaps, even when faced with clear evidence of your treachery. The very doll that'd imprinted itself inside of his memory, taunting him mere feet away with his lovely and saccharine smile.
His eye twitched before he could stop it, and your gaze snapped toward him almost immediately. Your eyebrows drew taut as you looked at him, not with love or adoration, but instead with heavy accusation. "Didā¦ You just move?" You drawled out, squinting at him as you placed the very same box cutter you'd freed him with on the floor before you cautiously stood up, keeping your gaze fixed on him.
But he didn't move again. Didn't allow himself to show that his composure had shattered for just a fraction. No matter how close you drew, not even when he could feel the way your breath fogged against his cheek. Hesitant, you backed away, giving up. "Maybe I'm just imagining thingsā¦ Gods, is this is how people get murdered in horror movies?" You grumbled, mostly to yourself and the universe.
But Vil made a promise to himself, in that moment. That he'd fix this ratherā¦ Unfortunate situation.
No matter what he had to do.
Doll! Yan! Vil Schoenhiet, who waits until the day you leave to run errands, saying you'll return later that night to set the very plan he had into action. Who mutilates the doll, ripping apart every joint tied with string, hurtling limbs into walls without a care in the world, and relishing every crunch and tatter to the doll's figure. Who litters the floor with a disseminated doll body, his other half's.
And when he finished, there was not even a trace of blood, like he would see in the movies and shows you'd played for him. A strange feat, now that he looked down at the strewn-apart 'corpse.' Because in truth, he didn't murder it. It couldn't even be described as similar, not by mortal standards. All he did was break a doll, which would amount to nothing besides the title he'd been given.
When the door opened with a creak, he stilled momentarily. You were home earlier than he'd expected. A silence folded between the two of you until bags slammed to the floor with a loud crinkle.
Vil cracked his head and looked you straight in the eye. His permanent, sly smile, one you'd once loved and fawned over, now ever so haunting against the harsh shadows on his face, plastered on his face. "ā¦Why?" A mellifluous, smooth voice rang out of him, lacking the miserable touch of his words, but his mouth didn't move. It couldn't. "Why couldn't you just look at me? Why did you have to get him?" He spat the last word out.
You stood frozen, grocery bags scattered across the floor beneath you, only one still clutched in your hand. Cans and jars, he guessed, by the way it sagged. Your knuckles were notably paler than before. "ā¦Huh?" You managed to utter past your stupor. You'd likely been expecting to see your two dolls posed beside each otherātactless choice, really, considering everythingābut all you saw was Vil hovering over what could only be described as a ceramic crime scene.
He twisted his limbs to face you in such a way that it made you stumble back, petrified, a foot past the threshold of your home and the outside world. He took a step closer, careful, like he was approaching a scared stray cat. "Myā¦ Don't you get it?"
You took a deep, shuddered breath as he inched closer. And closer. Staring at him with such wide eyes that enthralled him so dearly. With each stride, your irises began to shake a little moreā
CRACK.
He staggered back, surprised, clutching the right side of his face on instinct at the blow that'd struck him. The tips of his fingers grazed the slender, spider-web-like crack that'd embedded into his cheek, passing through his eye and further until it reached his hairline. He stiffened for a moment, just as you turned your heel, turning away from HIM againā
Before you could leap into a sprint, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers encased around it so roughly, he knew he'd ingrain the mark into your skin with a bracelet of deep purple blotches, and pulled you back. This time, flush against the chill of his porcelain, slamming you right into him. Goose bumps ran up your spine as you shivered against him. The door, your escape, shut as he discarded the fracture in his visage.
Vil enveloped his arm around your waist, clinging onto you, as he let go of your wrist. Did you feel the way your heart raced? Did you hear it, just like he did? "You don't need another. All you need is me, don't you get that..? Just look at me. Only me." He placed his head on your shoulder. "I am the fairest one of them all."
Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched at the sight of himāat the crack that marred his face. With a trembling hand, you reached up to cradle the fractured side of his face, tears swelling in your eyes. "Was that so hard now?" He murmured, somehow sounding softer despite his voice bank, knowing it was terror that swallowed you whole. That made the choked-out noise that crawled up your throat instead of concern for him, but he didn't care.
Couldn't bring himself to, as the remnants of his other half, the heroic to his villainous, lay sprawled behind him.
Not when you looked at him, and only him, instead of Neige.
"What? .. Am I not pretty now, darling?"
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