Simon was sure that he heard something outside of the safe house, and it wasn't an enemy.
"What are you hearing, lad?" John presses, his voice distant on the radio. Simon dares to open the door, peering outside into the dark woods.
"Talking. It sounds like more than one person, but all in one direction." Simon explains quietly into the radio.
"If you order now, you can get two for the price of one!"
"That sounds like an infomercial." Johnny murmers behind him. "That one guy. Billy Mayes?"
"He's dead, isn't he?" Simon asks, taking a deep breath before aiming his gun and light towards the trees. "Must be a damn good impersonator." He quips, but the sarcasm dies in his chest when they see you.
Your gangly form was unnatural. Limbs too long, torso too wide, jaw far too unhinged with too much skull exposed. Your face twists into what seems like a smile when you see them, ambling closer as you carefully extend a long arm.
"This is the last mop you'll ever need. Don't wait, call now!"
The voice you were using was feminine now, and Johnny stares over Simon's shoulder at your slowly approaching form. "What the fuck is that thing?" He whispers as you get to the porch steps. Neither of the men could move, Simon's finger hovering just over the trigger.
He hadn't hesitated taking a shot once, but he couldn't with you. You weren't trying to hurt them, were you? You reach slowly past the gun, your large hand almost incasing Simon's head. You let out a strange cooing noise as you stroke his head.
Price's voice crackles on the other side of the radio, but neither man reaches for it to answer him.
"They make the perfect gift for holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries!"
"What the fuck do you do, L.T?" Johnny whispers queitly, looking over at Simon with a raised eyebrow.
"We're gonna take it to base and teach it to lure people using our voices."
"You're fuckin evil, Sir."
"You're fucking evil, Sir."
Johnny stares back at you with wide eyes, barely having a second to register hearing his own words from your lips before you start petting his head as well. This could definitely be useful.
I've wanted to write this for a long time... Mark Grayson, the things I would do to you. Reader is something eldritch horror in nature.
Kinktober 2025 masterlist
The endless darkness of space was enough to drive a person crazy. Nothing but empty space as far as the eye could see, no matter how far you went. The stars never got any closer, and there was no sign of life, planets or asteroids.
Yet somehow, Mark had found... something. Or rather, something had found him. It, you, were like stars, space dust and a darkness so deep it couldn't be described with words or comprehended by the living mind.
Mark had no idea how long he had been flying, keeping track of time out in space was even harder than following directions. So maybe he let himself be cradled in that everchanging... something.
At first it had felt like a blanket, or water, carefully coiling around his body like it, you, were scared of hurting him. And wasn't that a thought, something scared of hurting a Viltrumite.
There was a tickle in the back of his mind, it felt like a careful poke, like you were politely asking if you could enter his mind. And Mark, who had experienced so many things at this point, just allowed it. If you had wanted to kill him, Mark was sure you would have done so already.
All the time out in space alone, also meant that Mark hadn't been able to find any type of release for a good while, for how long he wasn't sure. But it was enough, that just the strange there-but not really there, touch of whatever you were, made his blood rush.
And yes, maybe Mark let his thoughts flicker to some of his fantasies for a moment, but it was only a moment. What guy hadn't imagined being manipulated and used by something alien and all-powerful. Perhaps it was just Mark, or a certain group of people, but Mark couldn't help it.
Mark felt more than heard your curiosity, a strange bubbling chirping, like somebody was blowing bubbles in a glass of water with a straw, but more. Like it was inside him and all around him, the stars themselves warping and twisting at the simple noise.
Who were you to not respond to the curious creatures' thoughts, as suppressed as they were. You were no human, with no concept of lust or human emotions or bodily reaction, but you were interested, as much as something like you could be.
Had you possessed the ability, you would have snickered at how Mark gasped, as he felt the strange water-like texture of your touch become more solid, coiling around his body like shapeless tentacles. Sturdy and strong, squeezing his body like a snake constricting its prey.
Mark had already been hard at the sheer power difference between the two of you, so he could only shiver and gasp out soundless noises. Outerspace didn't really do noise, or air, so Mark couldn't moan like normal.
There was no need for it though, as you could sense it through the mild mental connection you had forged. Nothing extreme, just a weak connection so you could sense his mood, and read some of his surface level thoughts to communicate.
It was so interesting to watch, as Marks body twitched and jolted as tentacles coiled around his thighs, squeezing them tight, before spreading them as far as they could go. In the meantime, black wrapped around his arms in intricate designs, before pulling them above his head.
Mark was trembling like a leaf, his mouth open but not panting nor breathing, there was no need for it. Viltrumites could go a long time without air or food, so he should be fine.
That was, until those tentacles made of space matter hooked into his suit, and pulled it off like wrapping off a present. Some part of Mark wanted to cover himself, but a deeper hidden part of himself thrived of being robbed of the choice.
And when a tentacle wound around his throat, Mark choked on the air that wasnt there. Panic flashed through his body, like his system was finally registering the lack of oxygen.
Like the good host and lover you were, you had a solution for that. Marks open wet mouth was the perfect spot, the viltrumite only gagging once as a slick smooth tentacle slid down his throat, pressing his tongue against the bottom of his mouth.
Marks eyes flutter and roll back as the tentacle pushes and pulls a few times, mostly for his enjoyment, fucking his throat deeper and deeper, until finally Mark felt oxygen in his lungs. You were creating the exact oxygen he needed, and feeding it to him.
His cock throbbed between his legs, hanging hard and heavy and oozing like a broken faucet, his precum disappearing somewhere amongst the twisting darkness and tentacles.
It was hard to control his body's reactions, as you fed off the many fantasies that swam to the front of his mind. Tentacles toyed with his nipples, groped his pecs, jerked his cock and teased his ass.
There was a thrum, like a plane taking off, but something told Mark it was more akin to a purr. It was everywhere, something he could feel deep in his bones, and vibrating against his prostate like some invisible force.
Between his spread open legs, Marks cock pulsed and shot out a heavy load, the streaks of white being swallowed up by the ever-twisting darkness and space dust.
Of course, one orgasm wasn't enough for a viltrumite, so you kept toying with him. It helped that a being such as yourself could feel his limit, which was why you knew he was nowhere near it.
Mark finally gags around the tentacle in his throat, drool, snot and tears running down his face as his lashes clump together. You could only imagine he had to be the prime example of beauty amongst his kind, not that you would know.
Your viltrumite lover gurgled as a slick tentacle pushed inside him. There was no pain, because there was no way you would allow that, just an intense feeling of being full, of having his prostate squeezed and pressed against, until his cock squirted out another load.
There was no way to keep track of time, or of how many loads Mark had squeezed out of his body, or how many tentacles were inside his body. It was all a melting mess of pleasure, heat and want.
When Marks body finally couldn't take anymore, the tentacles withdrew from inside him, instead coiling around him like a full body hug, or a cocoon for him to rest inside.
A small tentacle tickled against his ear, as close to a kiss as you could give, but enough to make Mark shudder with a still present want and brewing affection. He did turn his head away though, as the tiny tentacle questioningly pressed against the entrance of his ear. There were many holes he wanted stuffed, but that wasn't one of them.
A shapeless feeling brushed against his chest, a small comfort telling him to rest for now. Nothing could touch him here, and you were willing to keep a couple of your billions of eyes on his world for now, as long as he would need.
thinking about Lestat accidentally creating the most monstrous fledgling that has ever existed (because apparently eldritch creatures can just Happen™ and nobody told him) and he’s just sprawled over your lap and kissing your face because you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and he loves you so much you’re his big scary baby <3
meanwhile Daniel is jotting this down on his notepad and not making eye contact with you because whenever he does, he relives his worst nightmares for some reason ?? what is up with that?
They walked with the Universe on their shoulders, and made it look like wings.
tamaki amajiki x gender neutral!eldritch abomination!reader
a/n: thank you so much to the wonderful wonderful @what-the-censored-xd and @pixxiesdust for being my beta readers!! and thank you to @v0mpy for requesting!! finally, a story where the love interests actually get together and stay together 🥴
Sweet was the light that beyond the window breaks.
Tamaki Amajiki knew this well. Said light was always coming from the side of his best friend’s room, illuminating the side of their face. Sometimes, it didn’t need to, their own radiance showing, or maybe the light of a dual monitor system. Their eyes would flick left and right, smiling softly at the spiralling chat on the bottom right corner, as they conquered kingdoms. Their hands were fast and sharp, tapping and flying across the keyboard with a vengeance, and when they won a battle, they would lean back with a satisfied sigh. Maybe there was a streak of paint on their arms, and in spare moments, they would try to rub it off. And in even sparser seconds, they would look at Tamaki on their bed and give a sweet smile.
YN LN. The love of Tamaki’s life.
YN didn’t necessarily know that, though. Tamaki made absolutely sure they had no clue, short of him blushing when they were around. But since they knew him since he was a child, they easily brushed it off as him simply being...him.
In the late nights where the darkness was overwhelming and his thoughts were too loud, he would sneak into their dorm and watch them play in the wee hours of the morning. He would take in the scent of paint, the faceless worlds on their walls, trapped on canvas or paper. It felt almost surreal. And as he would watch them, he would wonder. Was he enough? Would he ever be enough?
Ah, but those were the late nights. The nights would bleed into days, light breaking through other windows, and YN would move from their desk into a wide room, with brick walls on three sides and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other, like a gilded cage. And YN would paint, colours of every kind sweeping across the racks of canvases, paints sliding and paints, prying off the brushes into something unfathomable. And Tamaki would watch them until the sun was done rising and the early morning fog would clear.
Sometimes, he wondered. YN had never shown a quirk nor spoken of one. They were enigmatic in all the best ways, ways that snared and contained Tamaki like a blanket. They never judged him, never differed. They were effortlessly elegant, accidentally regal, casually divine. They created and destroyed as they pleased, and none could stop them. Sometimes when they spoke, their eyes would seefade into worldsthoughts of a world that Tamaki couldn’t even begin to fathom. YN rarely spoke of home, but when they did, it was a dark place that they could only spit harsh, short words of. Thatere was something deep that Tamaki didn’t dare touch, lest he watch their friendship crumble before his eyes.
Tamaki loved them. And it could destroy him at any moment, in a single, breathless second.
He never wanted that second to come, but like most things in his life, disaster loved him. That second answered all his questions, all the wondering if he was enough. It all came to a halt as the world froze, and he knew.
He wasn’t enough.
“It’s done!”
YN stood in front of a massive canvas that stretched above them, resting their hands on their hips in satisfaction. Their accent rang through their pride, and paint was everywhere on them, but they had a small grin on their face. Tamaki was behind them, staring up at the work with quiet horror.
Before him was what could only be labelled as a monstrosity. It was pure chaos, with deep blues and greens swirling across it like the sea had risen to the earth and taken a sturdy form. There were yellow and lime green fires cast across it, thick billows of smoke rising to the top of the canvas. The main centrepiece was like a horrible streak of blood: a creature in the middle, a tall, mutilated, spectral creation. It had ribs, Tamaki could tell that much, but too many, and they were hanging out and contorting it’s entire torso. It looked up into the sky of chaos, and he could almost hear the cry from it’s nonexistent mouth.
“It’s incredible,” he whispered in awe. He took a tentative step forward and YN glanced at him.
“You think so? I’m sure it could be better, but to be honest, I’ve been working on this for months.” They glanced up at it again before turning to Tamaki. “What do you really think?”
“It’s so…” hHe hesitated, staring right at the creature. It wasn’t so terrifying up close, but instead seemed to be mourning. “It’s so sad.”
It came out as little more than a reverent whisper, but YN’s raised eyebrows said enough.
“Really?”
“I-! I’m sorry!” Tamaki recoiled his hand, not even realising that he had been reaching forward. “If that wasn’t what you were going for, then I’m probably wrong!”
“No, no.” YN paused, tilting their head. “That’s exactly what I was going for. I just...didn’t think you’d pick it up. Most people don’t.”
“Huh?” Tamaki looked at them with wide eyes and a flush. “W-Well! Then it’s...it’s great!”
“Nice.” YN nodded, though it seemed more like they were musing. “I’m glad, then.” They turned to grab a rag, wiping their hands. Tamaki’s eyes flickered across the entire canvas, trying to take in as much as he could when he noticed a figure in the bottom middle of the canvas. He tilted his head.
“Who’s that?”
YN turned, curious, before realising what he was eyeing. They faltered, turning back around.
“It’s nothing. Just...just something extra.”
“Oh.” Tamaki stepped back. “What are you going to work on next?”
“I dunno,” YN shrugged. “I need to get more supplies, but after that, it’s kinda up in the air.”
Tamaki nodded. “Okay.”
He wished he could say more, but all he could think of was the small, kneeling figure before the great calamity. They looked so hopeless, so pleading.
And quite suddenly, the painting didn’t seem to be about the monster after all.
Tamaki was walking with YN down an open mall, watching them glance at shops and talk about their latest work. There were lights strung about, and sparse boards served as a makeshift room, letting the sunlight soak through. It was neither busy nor empty, with people scattered about. YN was in step with Tamaki, sighing.
“I, uh, wanted to encompass…” YN waved their hands about, trying to tie their words to their thoughts. They couldn’t seem to focus on one thing until Tamaki ever so gently began pulling them towards a corner store with mock paint splatter along the walls. YN didn’t resist, instead electing to still try and speak their mind.
“It’s like, this thing. It’s really...opaque.” They paused, pursing their lips. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I can try...to help you get it out…” Tamaki murmured, watching a couple point at a bright blue paint through the glass of the doors. “Do you have the...the basic idea?”
“No,” YN snorted. “I just know it’s...dark. Angry.”
“Angry?” Tamaki glanced back at them, daring to raise a concerned eyebrow. “Why...why angry?”
“I dunno.” YN’s eyes grew dark for a second, unfocusing like they were somewhere else, when a distant rumble echoed through the road. Both turned toward the sound alongside most of the civilians, and Tamaki grew stiff.
“What was that?” YN murmured, a casual curiosity on their face. “Thunder?”
Tamaki stepped in front of them. “That wasn’t thunder.”
There was a moment of pure, thick tension, a tension that was palpable and making the hairs on the back of Tamaki’s neck rise, and YN put a hand on his shoulder. They opened their mouth to say something, but Tamaki stared down the cobblestone road with an unblinking stare. There was movement, barely any, and Tamaki gave a shuddering blink.
Then, it hit like a mule kick.
There was a tsunami of pure air, rushing forth in an uncontrollable tide. The lights flailed in the wind and civilians were shoved back down the street. Tamaki managed to nearly throw YN into the store before getting flung into a candy shop sign, yelping when the collision made his spine pop. As he gathered his breath, he used his quirk to manifest tentacles, staring straight ahead.
A man strutted forward, oozing confidence, purple hair pulled high in a winding ponytail. When one civilian shakily tried to dial 119, he raised his fist in a sharp motion. A square column shot from the ground and fired the poor woman into the air. It was almost comical, how she was there and then she wasn’t, but Tamaki rushed forward and caught her, placing her gently on the ground before facing the man. The man stood for a minute, letting the remaining civilians clear before focusing on Tamaki.
“Where,” the man droned. “Are your heroes, boy?”
Tamaki narrowed his eyes, wondering if the woman’s call went through. He looked over at her, only to see YN standing over the woman in a protective stance. YN glanced back periodically at Tamaki with worried eyes. He glanced back, only to see the man was much closer that he had anticipated, maybe only a yard away. Tamaki was tempted to leap back, but the man stood right before the glass windows of the paint shop, and Tamaki’s nerves were steeled.
YN was there. YN was there. YN was there.
“What is your name, boy?” The man growled. Tamaki kept his mouth sealed, keeping eye contact with the man’s blue eyes. “I am Yigrallas Initi, son of the Great Yoson. I have come to seek out revenge on my father’s killer by destroying the world they hold so dear.”
None of it made a lick of sense to Tamaki, but he realised that Initi had an accent he could place. It was the same accent YN had, the one that no one could pin the location of. He narrowed his eyes.
“I won’t give you the chance.”
Tamaki began rushing Initi, just hoping to get him away from the paint shop, and Initi waved a gloved hand. The earth beneath Tamaki spun and he nearly ran across the entire street before righting himself and seeing Initi turn and face Tamaki. He realised that thank god, Initi was looking away from the paint store. YN was inside, ushering the woman, spare customers, and workers into the backroom or under the counter. They stood near the back door, narrowing their eyes at Initi.
“Do not get distracted, boy.” Initi raised his fist again, but before Tamaki could be rocketed by the stone under his feet, he skipped to the side and narrowly missed a rock to the jaw. Initi growled.
“You are a fleeting one.”
It began a dance; Tamaki leapt back and forth, trying to avoid the wind and rocks that Initi tried shooting his way. It was strange how Initi seemed to only be mildly annoyed the entire time, but Tamaki didn’t think too hard on it.
That was a lie. He thought about it-a lot.
Was Initi planning something? Were there others? Where were the actual, licensed heroes? Were they even coming? Tamaki thought enough that he was too slow, getting smacked with a boulder the size of an outdoor table. Initi let out a laugh.
“The little bird touches the earth,” Initi mused, watching Tamaki fall to the pavement. Tamaki’s head was spinning. The rock hit much harder than he anticipated and made him go still for a moment. Everything echoed, like Initi’s footsteps, his chuckles, the bell.
The bell?
Tamaki managed to open his eyes and saw YN storming out of the paint shop with a fury in their eyes.
“Tama!”
Initi stopped approaching Tamaki and turned. YN’s eyes met Initis’, and there was an instant look of horrified confusion. Initi’s eyes widened, impossibly so, before a ferocious glare glare overtook his face.
“Z’ythras.” He growled.
“Yigrallas,” They hissed.
“You killed my father,” Initi’s voice plummeted, and his hand made a choking motion towards YN. They cooly stepped to the side and avoided the plume of fire from Init’s palm.
“He deserved it,” They reared up, putting both hands before them like they were planning to punch the villain.
“He did nothing!” Initi howled and ran towards YN. Tamaki tried to protest, but his voice was stuck in his throat, and he smelled blood.
“He destroyed everything I loved!” YN’s face was uncharacteristically enraged, running right into Initi and socking him in the nose. He yelped, grabbing a handful of their hair and dragging the both of them to the ground. It was straight, raw, hand-to-hand combat, and Tamaki watched in awe as YN held their own against Initi.
“He hunted demons. Demons like you!” Initi managed to spit out, before straddling YN and placing his hands around their throat.
“You…” YN was choking, trying to pry his hands away and kicking him in the stomach. “You have no idea...what he did…!”
“You killed him!” Initi dug his nails into the meat of YN’s arm and used his spare hand to grip their ribs. “You murderer! My father was a good man, and he ended the plague of-of!” Initi didn’t get to finish his sentence when YN picked up a piece of rubble and smashed it into his face. There was a streak of blood and dust of Initi’s face and YN scrambled away, towards Tamaki, who was still trying to get up. Initi grabbed their foot, though, and they slammed into the cobblestones. There was a groan, and then Initi climbed back onto YN and began choking them, slamming their head with as much force as Initi could muster.
“You served them! They did nothing but kill and destroy, and you served them willingly! You must die!”
Then, there was silence.
Initi stared down at YN, and Tamaki tried to yell. They were completely still, and there was something leaking from behind their head and staining the bricks. It wasn't red, but a gaudy silver that was only there for a moment before disappearing into the air.
YN was dead.
Tamaki wasn’t enough.
He felt his heart stop and a white-hot rush in his blood. Tears swelled forth, and thought the blur, Initi looked at his hands with shock. The man didn’t seem to even know what he did, standing with a gasp. It was all so suffocating, seeing YN’s still corpse and knowing that he would never hear them again. It was a horrible, quiet peace that made Tamaki choke on his own sobs.
Initi looked at Tamaki, and slowly began stumbling towards him. Tamaki felt such a deep hatred for the purple blob in his eyes, and wanted nothing more than to crush it.
Then, there was a whisper.
Initi stopped, and the tears fell from Tamaki’s eyes. It was enough that he could see someone writhing on the ground behind Initi. The man turned, and let out a gasp.
There were two YNs, and one YN rose like a puppet cut from it’s strings, breathing like they were starved for air. Their head was back in a way that seemed almost painful, until it snapped forward. The other YN-the corpse-melted like red goo until the skeleton was the only thing left and it rose, standing perfectly behind YN. The ground around them began shifting, until chunks of the pavement were uprooted, and five more skeletons crawled from the dark dirt, bugs and filth clinging to the yellowed bones. There was a second, a brief, imperceptibly chaotic and still at the same time.
The perfect eye of the storm.
Then, YN’s voice leaked through while they still faced the pavement. It wasn’t the sweet, kind voice Tamaki knew, but a sound like a thousand angry hornets if they could speak at once. It made his entire body freeze in horror.
“Sixty five million, three hundred and forty thousand, and five hundred and sixty minutes.” YN paused and sighed heavily. “Five hundred and sixty-one. One hundred and twenty two years, seven months, and twenty four days.”
YN looked up, and their eyes were a startling pitch black with bleeding red pupils. They didn’t even seem to see Tamaki, tunnel vision focused on Initi. The skeletons, which had been looking down, snapped their heads up to look at Initi.
“I am considered young for my kin. We are ageless in infinite chaos. Possessive of everything and nothing. We are the rulers of the empty voids. Your father destroyed my home and peoples for sport and was killed by the Ancient Laws, written by Father Dragon and Mother Hydra. I killed Yoson Godslayer. I am Z’ythras, the Last Great Old One, and you have hurt my love.”
At once, Initi let out a horrified yell as the skeletons ran at him, almost on all fours. It was frankly terrifying, a suffering, malicious vision of Initi being ripped to shreds. His screams were miserable but Tamaki could only focus on YN. They turned to Tamaki, brows furrowed, and ran to him. He tried to whimper something, anything, but YN simply cradled his head and blocked the bloodshed.
“Sleep, my love. All will be well.”
And all Tamaki saw was darkness.
When Tamaki woke up, he was screaming.
He was in a cold sweat, gripping at blankets and anything he could see. He felt overloaded, terrified, until the door opened (there was a door?) and YN walked in. They smiled in the comforting way they always did, and Tamaki relaxed.
“Bad dream?” They murmured, tucking some of Tamaki’s stray hair behind his ear. He panted, but the burning in his lungs was quelling. He started rambling, eyes darting across YN’s guest room.
“Y-Yeah! You died, and there was this man, and-and he was after you, and there were skel…”
Tamaki looked at the open door and saw not one, not two, but six skeletons, all curiously edged around the door like puppies. But if they were puppies, Tamaki would’ve been fine. Instead, he began choking on his breath again, and YN grabbed his face.
“Tama, focus. Focus. You’re okay. They’re not going to hurt you.” YN looked both concerned and humoured, and one of the skeletons jostled the other in what seemed to be embarrassment.
“Then-then-then you-and he-and they-and you-”
“Just take a second, Tama.” YN soothed. “Breathe. I can explain once you’re calmed down.”
It took Tamaki more than a second, but he was able to breathe normally, and if he kept his eyes on YN, he wouldn’t be able to see the skeletons in the corner.
“So…” Tamaki gulped. “What…?”
“Everything you’re going to hear is going to be…” YN hesitated. “Unbelievable. Absolutely insane.”
They stood and turned, tugging their shirt up just the slightest. Heat flushed Tamaki’s cheeks, but he noted a sticky-looking spiderweb pentagram tattoo. It had the All Seeing Eye in the middle, and he tilted his head. YN glanced back.
“I am not human. I might’ve been, at one point, but I can’t remember. I am part of a race of gods called the Great Old Ones.”
“You said...that they were dead.” Tamaki winced at the words, and YN lowered their shirt.
“Yes. I am the last one.”
“And that the guy, his dad…”
“Killed them. The Great Old Ones…we were powerful. Divine. Horrifyingly ethereal. We were the ultimate hunt. And Yoson was the ultimate hunter. He sought us out, and for the first time in millenia, someone managed to kill one of the Great Old Ones. But Yoson wasn’t satisfied.” YN’s eyes went dark, and Tamaki searched through them. There was nothing but ageless regret. “He went after all of them. I wasn’t there when it happened. I was on Earth actually. Here. But when I came back, it was all up in blue and yellow smoke. My father, he was the last one to be killed. And I saw him standing there, mourning for my mother.”
“Then the painting…” Tamaki baulked. “That was your father?!”
“Mhm.” YN hummed, sighing. “I was the only Great Old One that couldn’t be inherently killed, so Yoson went after me. And since the Ancient Laws, written by our-my forbears said that it was perfectly reasonable to fight back, I did.”
“Did he...kill you?”
“Oh, yes.” YN hummed again, looking both miffed and satisfied. “Four times. The fifth, I got hit by a car. The sixth, of course, was Yoson’s son. Who, naturally, is dead. Like father, like son, I suppose.”
“And…” Tamaki glanced at the skeletons. One waved timidly, and there was some more jostling.
“They follow me around, unless I want to be discreet. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“You and the villain, you two had...have the same accent.”
“He was raised on the ruins of my home, I suppose. Yoson was from there, too.”
“And you…” Another furious flush rose on Tamaki’s cheeks, and YN tilted their head.
“You called me your lover?”
YN’s eyes went wide, and the skeletons froze. Four dashed away, one slunk behind the door, and the last literally collapsed into a pile of bones. YN themselves were bright red, scratching the back of their neck and looking away.
“Aha, well, that was...I mean, if you don’t want to, then it’s okay! But I know...it’s, uh…” YN trailed off, nervous for the first time that Tamaki had seen. Someone who was an immortal god, levelled to a blushing flower. Some he loved, blushing for him.
“Am I dreaming?” Tamaki pinched himself, and YN sat up.
“Oy! Don’t hurt yourself more!” One of the skeletons (the one behind the door) nodded fervently with YN’s cry.
“But you’re really...you love me?” Tamaki pointed at himself.
“Well…” YN paused, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”
There was a moment, but unlike all the others, it was kind. It was soft and gentle, like staring at the stars on a clear summer night. Tamaki’s heart pounded through his stomach.
“Well, I-! I like you, too!” He nearly hollered it, but YN lit up like a tree again.
“Then do you wanna be, like...dating?”
“Y-Yes! Please!” He leaned forward. “And does that mean we…! Can we!” He couldn’t finish his sentence, he was too nervous, but YN smiled.
“You wanna kiss?”
There was a rattle and all the skeletons were back at the door again, but Tamaki ignored it in favour of staring intently at YN’s lips. He gulped and nodded. They leaned closer, ever closer, and Tamaki’s heart raced, and it was like he was going to have a heart attack.
Then their lips met, and it all paused, and suddenly, this one moment made up for the bad ones.
I like to imagine that Lestat tells people we don't bite with the most lovestruck look on his face. I also like to imagine that he occasionally forgets to tell people the unimaginable horrors eldritch reader is capable of
uhhh cw for mentioned cannibalism and attempted suicide then murder of an unnamed character
—
“Y’know, sometimes I feel like you’re one bad day away from eating me.” It’s a valid concern, you think, but Daniel says it so casually that it’s very obvious that he’s not concerned at all.
Lestat scoffs, rolling his eyes like he’s offended for you, “Don’t be silly, Daniel, mon chou does not bite.” And then he goes back to dabbing up the blood on your chin.
“Yeah, Daniel, I don’t bite.” You grin at Daniel from over his shoulder, not bothering to retract the rows of sharp—and very not vampire-like—teeth protruding from your gums.
“Right.” Daniel averts his eyes with an amused huff. “And I’m Oprah Winfrey.”
You really like Daniel, he’s cool. He got over the whole nightmare fuel thing quicker than most, learned to avoid prolonged eye contact if he wanted to sleep well. Can’t say the same for the guy whose blood Lestat is so lovingly wiping from your skin.
Another fledgling that called himself an Armand Truther or some other equally insane thing, made you laugh right up until he described all the ways Lestat should suffer. You… don’t remember much after that, came to just in time to see him bashing his own head against the wall until his skull cracked open, letting out noises that could only be described as a feral kind of terror.
You didn’t ignore the hunger it summoned because who are you to deny a free meal?
(Daniel comments that you absolutely could have, but Lestat says you’re allowed to eat when and what you like.)
fledgling looking at other people: makes them see unfathomable horrors
fledgling looking lestat: rubbing against him and purring like a cat while he scratches your chin
Lestat doesn’t know it, but he’s kept from seeing the Horrors™ just because eldritch fledgling loves him a lot <3
—
Lestat is half laying on you, scrolling through his socials with one hand while the other absentmindedly scratches at your scalp. He smells like your shared body soap and the coppery undertones of blood. He turns his head to press kisses onto the curve of your jaw, smiling against your skin when that inevitable, rattling purr starts up in your chest.
You lean into his touch, eyes going iridescent and half-lidded. You’re content enough as you are, comfortably sitting together and watch at him look at things he likes (pretending you’re not actively staring at his soul and everything that makes him).
But he tosses his phone to the side and throws his arms around your shoulders, mouth meeting yours with a wordless sound that you identify as unabashedly happy. And then you have a lap full of him, lukewarm and happy and his soul’s shining like sparklers in the dark.
(Sometimes you want to look deeper—to peel back the layers and drive your fingers into the sinew and curl up in his ribcage and breathe him in.
yeah, thinking about Lestat making an offhand comment about how other vampires keep impulsively making fledglings and Daniel just raises an eyebrow at him because “didn’t you turn your ‘magnum opus’ in the heat of the moment?”
And suddenly everything’s swept from the table and crashing to the floor because IT IS NOT THE SAME, HIS PRECIOUS DARLING IS PERFECT AND UNREGRETTABLE HOW DARE YOU
