#He has a gentle disposition with a sharp tongue underneath

[skyloftian-nutcase]

And so begins the epic quest of finding as many Sassy Sky responses possible

[honeybeesiness]

all of your writing has a very warm feeling to it, it's like actual honey for my soul, i love it! if i could, could i ask you for some century egg x reader headcanons, please? i hope you have a wonderful day!

i know this one took awhile but!! we don't talk about that!! i’ve been in a writing flunk for awhile; it happens a lot to me but i try my best to be consistent ;;‎. i just don’t want to let any of y’all down. ‎‎

and thank you very much! y’all are so nice, i– ‎‎‎

when i saw the word "despair" in century’s bio, i was like, "👁️👄👁️ junko enoshima" ‎

Dating Century Egg is like....

‎

....The transition from Winter to Spring. Due to his years of unwanted captivity, Century Egg has grown lonely. The corpse of his previous master wasn’t the most ideal company, so he would definitely cling to you. However, there is a bit of hesitance to it. The last person he deeply cared about trapped him in confinement for hundreds of years, so he would be worried that you might do the same when you die. Due to this fear, he is always reluctant to do much of anything with you. Even getting him to hold your hand can be a slow process, so please be patient with him. It might not seem like it, but he’s trying really hard to not be as skeptical as he is. This also means that Century Egg would be a better fit with someone who is kind and gentle rather than someone who is sharp-tongued and hotheaded. While he is not the type to break down and cry easily, he doesn’t want to be rushed and would prefer to take his time in getting both comfortable and used to you. That desire can also imply a sense of "never being ready"-ness, and what I mean by that is that Century Egg might inadvertently be continuously pushing off and delaying the end result by saying that he’s just not comfortable or "ready" yet. Like I mentioned before, it’s not just a slow process, but it can be tiring as well, especially since you never truly know when he’s fully adjusted to the world and you yet. While he might have forever, you certainly don’t, so you don’t want to waste the precious time you have waiting for something that might never arrive. But just know that Century Egg never means to push you away or postpone any sign of significant advancement. He’s just afraid, that’s all. ‎

....A breath of fresh air. Century Egg has an interesting perspective of the modern world, and that is because he’s viewing the time period through ancient eyes. Even though so much has changed between then and now, Century Egg is able to spot and point out areas that he remembers from his time accompanying Xuan Wu. He always has something interesting to tell you about each individual spot and will happily indulge you if you’re willing to listen. Century Egg also likes to buy you things and give you gifts! Since he’s not very used to customs of the modern era, he has a tendency to mimic what others are doing because that is most likely accurate in this time period. If he sees other couples giving gifts to one another, then he’ll do it too, but observing people’s behavior doesn’t necessarily give him all the information he needs. This means that he’ll buy you a lot more stuff than what is considered the normal amount, and those goodies will vary heavily since he’ll buy you anything that he thinks you might like regardless of whether you actually like it or not. It just shows how often he thinks of you, though! What Century Egg also does is pay attention to you when you’re out and about. If your gaze lingers longer on a cute shirt or the newest edition to your favorite book series, then he’ll catch on immediately and commit the item to memory so he can buy it for you when he’s able to. With that being said, Century Egg usually goes overboard with presents on your birthday or on Christmas (If you celebrate it, that is.). ‎

....Becoming human once again. Century Egg has a tendency to be robotic when it comes to his actions. He'll listen to every word you say without a single hint of doubt and he'll follow through with every instruction you give him. While this quality has its benefits (i.e. deliveries, housework, airship shipments), it can be frustrating. A part of being an individual means thinking and behaving for yourself rather than obediently following along to what you're told without any second thoughts, and Century Egg seems incapable of doing so— At least at the moment (And even though I mentioned above that Century Egg would have a lot of hesitance when doing things with you, that only applies to being intimate with you.). But like I mentioned above, his compliance can have his benefits. Even though he’ll do it without hesitation, Century Egg actually enjoys going out on deliveries for you and making sure that your restaurant is in ship-shape. To him, managing these sorts of things helps shave off some of the workload for you, because the last things he wants is for you to overwork yourself. It isn’t a very good feeling to see you stressed out or exhausted, so he’ll what he can to make sure you don’t end up that way. He’s reliable and responsible, so you’d be in good hands if he were to ever take up the reigns. Breaks are important, and you should always make sure to not bite off more than you can chew. ‎

....Spring’s first flower. Century Egg enjoys beautiful weather, and is perfectly content with sitting underneath the shade of a tree to stare at the clouds. He would be happier if you were with him, and if you decide to tag along sometime, the two of you could have a picnic! He’d very much like that, but if you decline, then that’s okay! Maybe next time. Contrary to his rather gloomy disposition, Century Egg’s favorite season is spring. It’s cool (but not too cool) and all the blooming flowers are really pretty to look at. He’ll take you on walks through public gardens, insist on planting flowers in your front or backyard, and he’ll buy you lots of bouquets too! Might want to get a few more vases while he’s in this springtime mindset! The flowers aren’t the only things he likes about spring, however. Like I mentioned above, he likes the cool weather that comes with it, but he also likes the rainbow of colors that this season provides. Being confined and being forced to view a limited palette of colors most of his life really makes him appreciate the beauty of the world a little more, and he would feel more inclined to not take life for granted. He’ll appreciate it while it lasts and, well, his lasts forever, so he has all the time in the world. This thought is also a gentle yet dreadful reminder that your time on earth is limited and that you won’t be able to spend forever with him no matter how much you want to. It’s unfortunate, yes, and inevitable as well, but instead of moping over it, Century Egg is intent on making your life as enjoyable and as exciting as possible. You don’t need to worry about a thing, because Century Egg’s got it handled. Your life is valuable, and so Century Egg will do as much as he can to protect it.

[greaterspawnislands]

the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn | of the seed and the sickle

their first meeting

(or, hades and persephone, i suppose that’s one way to look at it)

links in the notes/reblogs :) 

In the center of a valley, past evergreen trees that border a rushing, bubbling river, past tall, spindly aspen trees with leaves that are just starting to turn sunset shades of orange and yellow, is a small farmhouse. Bordered by fields with crops ready for harvest and the forest beyond, the idyllic house crafted of spruce and stone sits alone. The dwelling is still and silent, save for one restless being, who stands at the kitchen window and stares at the stars.

Phil exhales lightly from the counter, fingers tapping alone the smooth-cut stone. The house is quiet. Tommy is fast asleep, the nine-year-old tired out from another day of running through fields and forests on another adventure. Wilbur, not much older at thirteen, is just as tuckered out from keeping up with the younger blond, though whether he's actually asleep or using the moonlight to read books by is hardly Phil's concern.

Humans exist to fail by trial and error, after all, by consequence or natural progression. In the end it doesn't matter in the slightest, as mortal lifespans pass in the blink of an eye. Little changes from one life to the next, absolutely unchanging when it comes to books read by moonlight and heavy eyes refusing to sleep.

Children learn, and change, and learn, and change, and die.

Phil sighs again, wings fluttering behind him with a never-ending restlessness. His mind is a cycle of endless, meaningless thoughts that swirl like the clouds in the sky above him, parting briefly to reveal unconnected constellations that span across the dark sky.

The kitchen is barely big enough to fit his wingspan but Phil extends his extra limbs anyways, wings trembling as they brush against cabinet doors and pass the open doorway to touch upon the main room. Some of the moonlight catches on his feathers, glossy cream feathers dappled with the floral hues of light green, pink, and blue, the colors of a clear spring sky over a field of campions.

He wants nothing more than to take flight, now, soar until he finds a field exactly like that, but there will be no flowers blooming this late in the year, not without his coaxing. It is the time for deciduous trees to change the colors of their leaves from a summer green to a display of fire without the heat. A burning, brilliant showcase of shades before winter winds sweep in to douse the flames and bring bare branches and bright white snow to cover the ground completely.

Spring can not come early, nor disrupt the flow of the seasons that mortals so desperately rely upon to track the course of their lives until they no longer make it to the next turn of temperature. The Winter-Bringer flies the skies now, with his wings made of dark, opaque ice and endlessly calm disposition, for fall and winter move slowly, relentless yet patient in their arrival. Phil, in great contrast, is scattered and hasty, ready to melt snowdrifts with a flap of his wings at any second to watch bright flowers bloom under his gaze.

He has lived far too many centuries now to try and disrupt this cycle that he and Bad have fallen into, not willing to push his luck with The Balance any more than he does already.

Phil folds his wings and steps outside, pausing carefully to listen for either of his human sons' movements in the dead of night. There is silence, and so he steps outside, shivering as a cool autumn breeze rushes at him from the forest beyond. Hours left until they wake and he can fill another day with the love and care he has set aside for them, but now is no longer that time.

Outside, standing on the porch and looking out over his fields that he coaxed from the earth with careful hands, his fingers twitch. The knife sits in its sheath against his side, and he knows how trivially easy it would be to call upon Technoblade. Centuries ago, now, he could have flown into battle over Techno's head, landing his own blow as the Blood God took what was within his name to do.

Phil held his tongue to keep from cursing out The Balance aloud. It wouldn't give him anything except a visit that would fucking terrify his kids, which is the last thing he wanted. Now, he knows, that when he calls upon Technoblade that all he'll receive is a sorrowful look hidden behind the gentle smile given to the two mortal children who crowd his legs and beg for stories of grandeur and glory.

His wings catch the breeze a little as he steps out into the fields, barefoot, and he flaps them once, twice, watching the grain ripple out like the waves of the ocean. It shimmers, briefly, before settling, and Phil casts his eyes to the skies, wishing for something he can do nothing about except wait for.

Waiting, that's all a god's existence is, these days. Waiting for the moment of allowance when what was within a domain could be used or brought upon the world. Order, it was called. Balance, it was decreed. Chaos, dosed out in controlled segments, punished for being overused on a whim.

Bullshit, Phil sometimes privately thinks, when selfish thoughts crowd his mind.

He reaches the edge of the forest, casting a backwards glance at the house before departing into the treeline, forced to bend his wings to accommodate the interspersed tree trunks and bushes that crowded the forest floor. His fingers snatched leaves from the sky and scooped them up along the forest floor, feeling the cool plant matter against his fingers before he released it back to the rest of the rotting leaves along the floor. A trail of freshly green leaves followed him, from his footsteps and fingertips, turning in wandering circles until he is entirely surrounded by trees that are slowly blossoming to life again underneath his touch. They are the same leaves that thread throughout his hair, an array of flora blossoming along his scalp, intertwining with his blond locks. His coat, too, is made of those same spring-green leaves, shifting in dappled sunlight, sadly stagnant so late at night.

Around him, the animals that haven't already found shelter for slumber scamper across the forest floor, looking for a place undisturbed by a deity and his widespread wings. Crickets chirp in the undergrowth, and a few curious birds flutter along the treetops, wings beating among the leaves as they settle on branches to peer down at him from their perches above.

Soon, Phil stops underneath the stars, a spot where the trees have pulled back from each other just far enough that when he tips his head back, he can see the clouds clearing to display the stars, and when he looks around again, he can see no fields just beyond.

"Oh, shit," Phil mutters aloud, slowly realizing how far into the forest he's walked. "Where the fuck have I wandered to?"

He isn't answered so much as heard by a single crow, hopping down a few branches to perch upon a limb just a few feet taller than him. Phil meets the bird's gaze, and the two winged beings look curiously at each other for a moment, searching for more than what might meet the eye.

The crow takes flight in a blur, brushing right past Phil's cheek in a brush of wing that makes him yelp in surprise, turning his head to follow the crow's movements. "Hey!"

A few paces away, the bird waits on another perch in a different tree, still staring dead in his eyes, head tilted in clear expectancy.

Two more crows join the first, hopping on branches and the knots that jut out from various trunks of aspen trees. Phil continues to follow the first crow even further into the forest, a sense of uneasiness curling within him as more and more birds populate the trees around him, all staring down at him with the exact same inquisitive eyes, staring, watching, waiting.

It would be easy to turn around, or to fly out of here in an instant, back to the safety and stillness of the farmhouse and the two safe children that sleep within it. It would be easy to shake off the curiosity and excitement that mingles with this nervous feeling, to return to a routine of simplicity and ease.

But there is not much that Phil would consider to be beyond his knowing, these days. Now, hundreds of crows stare down at him from the trees that stretch high in the sky, nearly blocking out the orange leaves entirely as their round black bodies press together and their wings fluff out, all identical and yet Phil is certain he knows exactly which crow is the first one to appear to him, the one continuing to hop between branches as he follows, nearly dashing across the forest floor. Even more crows flutter around him as he moves, wings brushing against his own and landing on top of his striped hat or resting on his arm for a moment before taking flight again.

It's overwhelming, it's overbearing, and it's exciting. A wide, wild grin stretches across Phil's face as he spreads his arms, turning and laughing as the crows fly around him in a blur, hiding even the trunks of the trees from him now as he spins with them.

And then they're gone, off in a mass of beating wings and flurrying feathers, and Phil stands at the mouth of a large, dark cave, watching as the murder descends down into the darkness that lies below.

"Wait!" he calls, but the crows do not answer. They move as if they had never pressed their wings close to his cheeks, they move as if direct by something else entirely, they move as one.

Phil analyzes the structure of the cave, the width and angle of descent in a few quick glances. The cave is wide, and he cannot remember if he had been able to see the walls of it before, but when he looks at it again the slope is more than wide enough to accommodate his wingspan, walls consumed with shadow. The calls of the crows are growing fainter, and Phil does not spare a glance back to the forest and what rests outside of it.

His wings snap out, pastel coloring swallowed by dark shadow, and he flies, wings carrying him down in a quick descent as he takes off after the murder of crows who had led him here.

A breathless laugh leaves him as he flies again, wings maneuvering through the wide tunnels and closing to dart between smaller spaces held up by pillars of dirt and stone. He can barely see, and yet instinct takes over, following the distant cries of the crows through turns and tunnels and pausing, once, in a wide open space where a pool of water opens over a great cavern. Phil stays aloft there for a moment, marveling at the dark water he cannot see the bottom of and the ceiling he cannot reach, before taking off after the crows he can still hear, though deep inside him he knows they should be so much farther now, and he knows that they are waiting for him.

The tunnels narrow the more he flies, and soon Phil is struggling to keep his wings from brushing harshly against the sides of the tunnels, wincing as he dives through narrow gaps and struggles to keep aloft. He can no longer hear the crows, but he continues to fly anyways, pushing himself through the ever-narrowing tunnels until he can no longer flap his wings. Phil tumbles to the ground, pulling his wings against his back before standing again, staring at tunnel that waits ahead for him, barely taller than he is, and just as dark as everything before him.

Phil frowns, the sense of adventure draining from him as the mobility of his wings is restricted again. He scoffs lightly, listens out for the crows and hears nothing, and turns to find his way back out again.

The tunnel shakes, and rocks begin to fall around him.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Yes I'd love to know your take on all the characters too!

Haha sure thing! Forgive me if this is a bit long, I just wrote whatever first came to mind about each of them! Feel free to let me know what you guys think too, I’m certainly not the end-all-be-all! <333 Also apologies for the wait, I’ve been a bit under the weather recently, but recovering!

Under the cut for length, a continuation of this post:

Number four is our illustrious cad, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I must admit I haven’t read all that much of his content personally, since I have trouble on a personal level. But given the tangential things I’ve seen and his appearances in other routes, I like the complexity of his character composition. He’s incredibly hedonistic and lives in the moment; he doesn’t seem to care one bit in regards to the potential consequences of his actions, and every second is something to think about as a writer—if he’s not teasing Isaac within a hairsbreadth of a stroke.

In truth, I don’t think that surface level interpretation actually encompasses every facet of who he is. Because he also has remarkable moments of insight and deduction (though wrongly attributed to him because of the Sherlock books), and he does have odd moments of compassion for people/the MC. They ring a little hollow for me, but I can appreciate that he cares in a way that makes sense to him. I think a lot of his behavior speaks to his negligence of self; I have to wonder if his devil-may-care attitude is a means to communicate to others that he doesn’t deserve to be cared for (if he won’t ‘take them seriously’, then neither will they in regards to him, no?).

Granted, I’m sure his route will prove to have equal depth to the ones we’ve seen before, but my own preferences preclude a pretty resolute lack of interest.

Tl;dr: Probably has some level of narrative depth, but given the content I’ve seen he’s a little too aggressive and selfish for me to appreciate or enjoy it. Rated T for possible big trauma/turning point buried underneath all that, as well as big feels when he chooses you by the end.

Also if it’s no trouble, I would like to offer a trigger warning to any who wish to do his route when it does come out. I don’t know if his MS has any traces of assault/molestation, but I have read a few ES’s in which he does things to the MC that she does not seem to want/does not consent to. It was a very unpleasant surprise for me, so I understand if anyone would rather avoid it.

Number five is our sunshine painter, Vincent van Gogh. Needless to say, given that he appears to be a fan favorite, he’s another suitor that’s just so easy to love. He’s sweet and gentle no matter the situation, and has a remarkable ability to lighten a room simply by being there. But don’t let that quiet and shy disposition fool you; he’s actually a lot sharper than he looks.

He’s among my bias favorites, and the reason why is more simple than you’d think. I’m sure I don’t need to explain that he’s incredibly compassionate. He’s always thinking about what he can do to ease people’s hearts, always meets others with warmth and a beaming smile. But he’s not an airhead. He’s not kind because he doesn’t know any other way to be; near every second of it is a choice that he voluntarily makes. There are moments where this strength shines all too true, and he proves he’s much more than a pretty, sweet face. When the stakes rise, he rises with them.

Though—and do forgive me, Vincent—I’m inclined to agree a bit with his brother, Theodorus. He can be a little too yielding to the more negative forces in his life, a little too compassionate towards people that are frankly threatening. But he insists that he’s willing to work hard for his happiness, that he has no intention of waiting for someone to hand it to him—he’s ready to make sacrifices and work. And I think that sentiment, that fortitude after such a difficult life, is what makes him so admirable. He’s not just generous, he’s strong enough to give all that he can and thrive at the same time. He has such a remarkable capacity for hope given everything he’s been through, and it’s something that I love about him—I can’t help but respect it, even if I’m a bit more cynical lmao

Tl;dr: Absolutely the softest and goodest boy I have ever seen in my life, 11/10 would marry and cherish forever—die mad about it Theo. Much more intriguing than what a first glance offers, I invite you to do his route even if you have doubts; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. I live for his surprising moments of sass and seriousness, and if I’m honest he and his MC seem to have some of the best chemistry in the game because of how directly he addresses any miscommunication/confusion between them. (He also loves hanky panky, as our esteemed Sebastian puts it, so jot that down).

Speaking of, “if anyone so much as looks at Vincent the wrong way I’m killing everyone in this room, including myself”, number seven is Theodorus van Gogh (number six is Isaac in the game’s main story order, but transitioning—you know how it is). I…truly don’t know how to encompass him in a few words, but I’ll do my best!

Everyone’s probably more than aware at this point, but he lives with the single-minded goal of protecting his brother and promoting new talent. A workaholic and fiercely protective of the only family he has left, he tends to be pretty terse and harsh with other people—abrasive. But he has such distinct moments of warmth (even if they’re still coarse as hell), and he gets down to the truth of a situation in milliseconds; wit as sharp as any knife. Unlike his brother, he is totally fine with violence if he deems it warranted, and he has a much harder time granting forgiveness. It goes without saying that he has a much, much harder time sharing what’s in his heart and healing as compared to Vincent.

I think my favorite thing about Theodorus is just how multi-faceted he is. At any given moment his range of emotion or reactivity varies, and I actually think it’s very natural? I think he’s just someone that responds to a situation after carefully measuring just how comfortable he is showing his own cards—and sometimes he reacts without thinking at all because he’s too overwhelmed with emotion to care (unsurprisingly, the opposite of his brother, who’s generally more placid/visibly unresponsive). One wonders—though I think it’s likely the case—whether or not he’s much more expressive by comparison precisely because Vincent was unable to express himself with such unfettered honesty.

Overall, he tends to keep his distance from people. And yet, even if his admiration for someone is a rare thing, when he does admire them he well and truly means it to the core. Equally put, if he loves somebody he loves them with every fiber of his being—to the point where he will give up near everything important to him to preserve their happiness. If I were to describe it in a word, I suppose I would say that he’s incredibly volatile. He lives, to an extent, in extremes; even if he’s still able to see traces of the gray in-betweens. I fully expected to find him and his route forgettable/unpleasant, but he grew on me before I even realized it! 

Also just gonna put it out there, his interactions with Vincent are friggen ADORABLE. This big, looming, scowling swagger on legs seconds from tears whenever Vincent looks after him. Or how he hesitates and droops when Vincent scolds him. I just can’t they’re too much! For a guy that calls us dog in the Japanese version of the game he sure follows Vincent like an adorable puppy 😂

Tl;dr: Despite his frigid countenance, he’s a lot more bark than he is bite (yes I did that on purpose, do your worst fangface). Once you dig deeeeep deep under all that acerbic tongue-lashing (not the fun sort, unfortunately) you will find somebody that’s surprisingly soulful, and much kinder than he’ll ever let on. I very rarely know just what to expect from him, and while he can be a bit domineering, his heart is almost always in the right place.

Boomeranging back to number six is our adorable apple and baby of the house, Sir Isaac Newton. I’ve honestly been really happy to see how much love he’s been getting in this first route release for the big three, given that he’s such a sweetheart. Consumed with anxiety and very, very socially awkward; our boy is doing his best despite being big confused a lot. He likes to stick to math and physics where things make sense, and I can’t really blame him. He presumably asked to be given new life to do more studying—and if that doesn’t say anything about how isolated and lonely this man has been, I’m not really sure what does.

He’s also a bit of a mixed bag, like Theo. He seems to have a self-esteem located at the bottom of the Marianna’s Trench; and yet, has oddly courageous moments when he’s trying to help others (most especially Jeanne). While he can appear to be contrarian and bitterly defensive, he’s more brittle and nervous than anything else upon closer inspection. He’s too quiet and painfully shy to involve himself in conversation, to the point where he literally enjoys being teased about apples in the house—because at least he feels like he’s involved/belongs, that way. He’s distant and reserved, but isn’t lacking in warmth or compassion—he just expresses it in roundabout ways (I mean good lord, the boy felt bad waking up his own coachman). It can be hard to describe, but it seems like he’s always battling against his social anxiety—and sometimes it wins, sometimes he does.

I think what I love best about Isaac is how hard he tries, despite it all. Despite everything he’s lost, despite the droves of people that assumed the worst of him in life—he keeps trying, against all hope, to understand and be understood. Even when he’s afraid of being hated, even when he fully expects to fail, he picks himself back up and reaches out—no matter how difficult it is for him. All he ever asks of the MC is to bear with him while he tries to find those answers and meet her halfway, and honestly I think that’s the sweetest thing ever.

Tl;dr: Lost on the path of life but doing his best, all he’s ever really wanted is someone to call friend (girlfriend, if you’re so inclined). A little fragile and a little timid, all he needs is a gentle nudge in the right direction.

Next up, number eight, is the renowned veteran Jeanne D’Arc. Another bias boy (my list is endless for this game, lord) his route is my second favorite right behind Leonardo’s. Superbly written and paced, every moment of romancing him was raw and heartfelt.

Without giving too much away, he is taciturn and reclusive to the extreme—I’m talking hermit levels. But I loved that personally; it makes total sense that a man born literally four hundred years ago is going to be confused and overwhelmed by the level of stimuli present in the turn of the 20th century. And given how, much like Isaac, he has enormous levels of social anxiety—it makes for a very difficult way of life. The other men do their best to accommodate him, but there are other reasons why he avoids getting too close to people, no matter their good intentions (that part is a route spoiler so I’ll leave it to your imagination c:).

I think what I loved best about his route was how much it was about helping each other heal. And while some otomes can fall into trap of MC becoming his therapist (I’m not naming names—Mysme) it doesn’t feel that way at all, at least not to me. Granted, she does a lot to get him out of his shell, but it’s more because she wants to get along with him than some odd belief that he needs her help (also bc of wingmen Mozart and Sebastian—yes it was as amazing as it sounds). Not unlike Leonardo’s route, they both recognize the beauty that dwells deep within each other, and they fall in love without even having to think about it. They become just what the other wants and needs, without even trying—truly as natural as falling.

Which brings me to the other thing I love so, so much about Jeanne: his kindness. Despite everything he’s been through, despite decades filled with loneliness and pain and trauma—he’s no less gentle for it. He’s always putting MC before himself, always telling her to look after herself first and insisting he’s nothing but a nuisance. He treats her with all the tenderness in the world, and even jokes around with her in his moe, silly way. He’s charming and delightful and sweet, even if he can’t see it.

Tl;dr: One of my favorite otome routes to date. Falling in love with him felt as natural and as easy as breathing, and every single time I see him those feelings come rushing back. What he lacks in worldliness, he makes up for in pure passion and fierce consideration for the people he holds close to his heart.

At number nine lies our Monsieur Guillaume, better known as William Shakespeare. Where on earth do I begin with this one, I have no idea. He’s…a wild card to say the least, though a strangely methodical one? Jeanne’s Japanese route only served to confuse me all the more, to say nothing of Vincent’s route. Part of me wonders if he suffers from the narrative confusion that often results from making a suitor a primary antagonist at the same time. (Though I will admit, the fact that he barely even tries in Leonardo’s route bc: 1. Everyone’s terrified of Le Comte’s/Leonardo’s legitimate wrath 2. He deadass says LEONARDO CLOWNS HIMSELF HARD ENOUGH AND MAKES HIMSELF SO MISERABLE HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE TO TRY. WHAT KIND OF GOD TIER, ACCURATE ROAST. I’m sorry I just needed to come clean about that one, I’ve been laughing about it for years).

From what I understand he only really operates in two modes: extremely obsessive (and violent) or a complete lack of interest. Le Comte explains it much better than I do, but Shakespeare is a bit of a perfectionist; he wants an impeccable performance from a perfect, naturally acting cast. But MC tempers this with the correct analysis that he also has a very, very dark lack of compassion for other people. He truly does seem to have fae blood in that way; created for the sole purpose of dangerous mischief and dissembling. His poetic speech feels a little over the top, but it makes sense that he would speak in a flowery, distracting, and elaborate way if his goal is to keep his distance.

I find it…borderline terrifying that he gets along with Vincent because of the aftermath of Vincent’s trauma. As a result of the eldest van Gogh’s backstory, he tends to be “doll-like.” That is to say, as I mentioned, he very rarely expresses any depth of emotion. Shakespeare states that it lessens his temptation to want to make his life a tragedy like everyone else’s, and I suspect there is a level of envy hidden there. Shakespeare hates seeing other people express themselves openly; especially in terms of hope or love, because it is something he doesn’t feel he can have or because he believes it is fated to end in tragedy (or both?). His reasons seem to get pretty convoluted and can vary given the narrative goal, so I may only be partially correct here.

Tl;dr: If I’m honest, I don’t really feel anything for Shakespeare that’s positive—though I admit I do wonder about his intentions and what his route will amount to (sheer, morbid curiosity lol). I think he may have the potential to be redeemed—given that there are clear mentions of people going wrong from the turning process. But in general I find much of his behavior to be kind of appalling. At least it’s fun to watch le Comte punt kick him around when he’s done horrible things, lol (forgive me Shakespeare-lovers, it’s a bit cathartic for me)

Diez for our favorite (H)osamu Dazai, accomplice and enabler of Arthur’s thottery. He’s much simpler and somehow just as confusing as Shakespeare to get a handle on, and his content is pretty limited, but I’ll do my best to encompass what I understand!

Honestly, I find him a little fascinating in that he truly seems to believe that he’s good at keeping his distance; evading contact with MC, constantly calling her by the wrong name, and teasing her with his dramatic digressions—on the surface level, the implication is there. The game is very subtle about his moments of genuine unrequited feeling and adoration; if you blink it’s easy to miss. When a crisis hits, he uses her given name. When he’s frustrated that she’s not being treated as she deserves, he speaks out. He even tries the whole big brother schtick, though she brushes it aside (he was shooketh). Perhaps the abundance of third person narration makes it easier to tell (than it might be for MC) but I find he’s less convincing than he is stalling/avoiding the truth. Which begs the question. Why is he trying so hard if it seems half-hearted/forced?

The possibilities are, admittedly, myriad. My best guess is that he yearns for company even if he avoids/fears the commitment. I imagine a big part of his route will be getting him to accept the concept of companionship—no matter how much the idea scares him. I find it a little ironic, though, that for a man so desperate to die he says it wasn’t as fun as he thought it might be. Are the limitations his mental illness placed on him among his considerable regrets, enough that he felt compelled to try again in a new life? Only time will tell, I suppose.

Tl;dr: A little scatter-brained and a lot flighty, he’s lacking in conviction but not in compassion—and he may be a lot sharper than he first lets on. Rife with some sort of emotional/mental hardships, be prepared for a long, difficult ride if he’s among your favorites! It makes me wonder if MC will be reason enough for him to find meaning and peace in life for once, not unlike Jeanne’s rt. A girl can hope~

Ah yes, we arrive at another deeply beloved bias, Le Comte de Saint-Germain. I very much doubt there are words to encompass how much I love this man, but I will do my very best for your sake—and for his (it’s what he deserves).

Le Comte is a mystery to all but Leonardo, it would appear; right down to his alias. And in intriguing accordance with that fact, he is at times the epitome of a genteel nobleman—until he’s ready to unleash a flagrant can of whoopass to protect people. I think what I love best about him is that he’s quite literally a walking contradiction, in many senses of the word. He’s a gentleman with the heart of a punk/delinquent, only civil until a dispute carries too far. Saint Germain is the definition of a brittle character (something I have always been incredibly fond of in stories); I can never quite get a read on him. My best guess would be to say that while he’s patient, he’s also unpredictable. It’s not always clear how affected he’ll be by something or what he’s feeling. But when it becomes too much for him to bury within, you better believe everyone in a five mile radius can feel the aftermath. You’ll all come to understand what I mean, hopefully, but it’s the precise reason Leonardo becomes friends with le Comte—and why he continues to fascinate me.

And as odd as it sounds, I love how simple he is too, to some extent? No matter how convoluted the specifics of a situation get or blame is thrown around, he always cuts to the core of the issue—and doesn’t let anyone sidetrack that. He’s cautious, but not entirely incapable of being forthright; just choosy about when, where, and how. Which begs the question. Why does he always hold back so distinctly with MC? Side stories in the Japanese version suggest some very deeply rooted, agonizing fear that makes him avoid getting close to her no matter how much he likes her. I have theories, but nothing solid quite yet. All I know for now is that he is slightly shady, very benevolent, and a whole lot lonely.

Tl;dr: He’s literally the definition of the meme “aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you just wanna go apeshit.“ Works to be gentle and understanding, but the second he deems somebody has gone too far he will act with surprising, swift, and deadly vehemence. He’s very sweet and surprisingly possessive/direct about his affections—though he often plays it off like a joke. I always find it funny though, when some of the residents—especially Arthur/Shakespeare—know they’ve gone too far and they just look up to his dark, saccharine smile like FUCK. 11/10 I’ve been waiting centuries for this man Cybird, pls set me free And last, but certainly not least, we have our distinguished butler, Sebastian. I love this big ol' nerd but can't deny that he does me a bit of a frighten. He can do...literally anything on the domestic front, and frankly its a bit alarming 😂😂

Just as the little question mark next to his description as stoic indicates, he goes for the whole unruffled English butler vibe and nails it for the most part. He's even got the witty banter down! But he's also pretty direct and unapologetic about his love for historical figures--and the stalkerish lengths he'll go to to observe them all. (I mean come on, this fool literally overshares about himself in milliseconds if you let him). Granted I can't fault the man for doing what makes him happy. Like Isaac, I just have to resist the urge to gently shove him into a locker sometimes lmaoAs for his romantic potential, I think the possibilities really range. From what little I've seen, I think he might be a bit like Mozart? He seems very unaccustomed to social interaction--and given his backstory he was more interested in books and people long dead than the ones beside him. He also has a bit of that fastidiousness to him, a bit stern and awkward despite moments of warmth. I think he can be more preoccupied with cutting straight to the truth sometimes than he is about figuring out how a person needs to be spoken to (re: what is tact?). And that's charming in it's own way, though the result can be hilarious inadvertent moments of callousness--quite literally photo taken seconds before disaster lmfao. (I think my favorite instance of this was when he was trying to reassure MC once and totally fucks it up, only to see her start panicking and go "Oh shit, I stepped on a verbal landmine, didn't I" and then Comte comes to the rescue) Tl;dr: Honestly, I think he'll be a really cute love interest even if I am all about the vampires in the game. He's his own kind of genius, even if he doesn't see it, and deserves just as many hugs! And I think he severely underestimates how sexy it is for a man to willingly share in the responsibilities required of a household. Get you a man as capable and sharp as Sebas LOL

[fictional-scenarios]

HELLO, can i request Aizawa Shouta with 187: “ Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you? ”

WARNING! this fic isnt the Safest For Work

: )

With soft fingers rubbing circles into your side, it was getting pretty damn hard to focus on your book. 

Aizawa had no idea what he was starting, eyes shut in comfortable bliss. You laid against him as you read, listening to the sound of the rain against the window across the bedroom. The calendar you’d filled out earlier lay ignored on the small nightstand, a list full of events crossed out with the coming storm. It didn’t bother you too much. 

“I think this is better than what we had planned,” you murmured, no longer able to pay full attention to your story. “I’m kinda’ glad it rained.”

Aizawa hummed in agreement as he idly continued petting the exposed skin your thigh, your shorts having ridden up on your quest to getting comfortable. Goosebumps formed beneath the soft touches- he’s always had a way of stirring you up without even putting effort in. 

You must have squirmed just a bit too much to be ignored, for when he opened his eyes, he knit his brows. “Are you comfortable?” He asked, his voice suddenly being the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

Swallowing, you nod. He doesn’t seem convinced.

“I can stop if you want.”

“What? No,” You looked up at him. “Don’t stop.”

For a moment he stares at you, but just as he always does, he figures it out. 

“I see.” He sighs. His fingers stop their movement but before you can protest, they trail further over your skin, leaving an imaginary trail towards your inner thigh. You can’t fight the way you shift to welcome the feeling. You also can’t fight the kiss he captures you in, his free hand plucking the book from your grasp effortlessly. 

Somehow he always knew exactly what you wanted and when you wanted it. 

The book is discarded on the floor, he doesn’t take time to put the bookmark back into it’s rightful spot. You couldn’t care less either. 

Just as quick as you’re able to take a fistful of his nightshirt, he’s quick to roll on top of you, enveloping you in a shadow. His loose hair waterfalls around you messily, and you reach to take a gentle grab at the back of his head as you pull him down for another kiss. Already you’re breathless and he knows it. The way he kisses you doesn’t help.

When you have to force yourself to break away, in need of air, he snickers at your disposition. 

“You act like I’ve never touched you before.” He says tauntingly. 

You grunt and let go. He just laughs lowly again. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.”

Both his arms come to rest on either side of your head, and you’re gleeful to know you’re trapped underneath his lanky form. 

“Come on then,” The need in your whine is so easily noticed. “Stop being an ass.”

He kisses you just as breathless as you had been moments before. A deep, fervent kiss that would have your knees buckling if you weren’t already pressed flat over the mattress. 

There’s an ache between your legs. You squirm again. “Please.” 

“Already?” His knee comes to pry your thighs apart and fuck if that didn’t tempt to grind shamelessly right there. “Do I really have that much effect on you?” His words are punctuated when he presses against you, your breath hitching in your throat.

Head tipping back against the pillow, you let out a strangled moan. 

“Shouta-” Whatever you tried to say turns into heated gasps when he leans all his weight on one arm, using his free hand to push your shirt up to your collarbones. You’re exposed beneath him, waiting for what’s coming next. He touches you and it drives you wild, whimpering when his long fingers pinch and rub circles on your nipple. 

You’re getting frantic- you just want him all over you. 

The heat between your legs begs to be touched. 

Just like before, Aizawa knows. That, or maybe he decides it’s time to get the show on the road, because those teasing prods get more intense. He rolls your nipple, dipping his head down just to capture your other breast in his mouth. His tongue sweeps over the buds, leaving you to writhe beneath him, one hand tangling in his hair while the other finds purchase on the bedsheets. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, and he shivers. 

When you arch against him, your body begging for more, he pulls away. The sharp expression to send his way has him grinning deviously, and your edges soften as you watch him glide his fingers down your body. 

First your rib cage, your sides, your hips. The feathery touches halt over your inner thighs as he slides down the bed to get comfortable. He glances at you as his fingers catch the hem of your shorts, and you gladly lift your hips to let him tug them down. 

The shorts are discarded somewhere on the floor, joining your book. 

His hands come to push between your thighs and you bend your knees, let them spread just as he wants. You’re longing to be touched, eyebrows knit, lower lip caught between your teeth. He hasn’t yet removed your underwear and it drives you crazy.

No, instead, he leaves them on just so he can press against your heat without giving you the satisfaction. That asshole. 

Still, it’s better than nothing. 

He runs the length of his fingers up and down the valley of your slit, eyes never leaving yours, his free hand resting on your inner thigh to keep them splayed. Everytime he swipes over your clit you gasp, and he loves it. 

“Don’t be such a tease.” You try to sound aggravated, but it just comes out like a plea.

“Why?” He asks huskily. He tilts his head sadistically. “It’s clear you love it like this.”

Despite your irritation, you flush. It’s a stupid thing to find yourself blushing over at a moment like this, but you are, and in an attempt to hide you cover your face with one of your hands. He’s fast to shut it down. 

“Don’t cover your face. I want you to watch me.”

Through the cracks of your fingers, you stare at him. He shakes his head. 

“Move your hand. I want to see your face.”

“Fine.” You whimper, and you resort to tugging on the bottom of your pillow instead, finding the need for something to curl your fingers around. 

“Good.” He settles on his elbows. “Don’t take your eyes off me.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on you. “Got it?”

“Yes.” The response is instant.

So is the reward.

Aizawa doesn’t waste time in removing your underwear, no, instead he delves his fingers beneath the hem and just tugs it to the side, out of the way. You’re exposed deliciously. You watch him eye your core, your need evident. For a hot second you fear he’s teasing you again, waiting for you to beg him to please just fucking touch you already.

One last time turns his eyes to you, taking in your desperate expression. His lips curl into a smile, and finally, he lets you have it, 

[aeternallis]

Title: Regression

Series: Owari no Seraph Pairing: Hyakuya Mikaela x Hyakuya Yuuichirou Rating: M (18+) Summary: It wasn't a reconciliation, not really; it wasn't even about them meeting halfway. If anything, Yuuichirou would call it something along the lines of them just letting out some pent-up steam.

But perhaps on second thought, that would be putting it nicely.

Spoilers for the latest chapters. // Canon!verse, / PWP / Mikayuu

AO3

Mikaela's hands were rough and utterly aggressive much later on that night, a great contrast to his usually calm demeanor, his soothing voice, his soft breaths that always knew how and where to elicit the most arousing responses from deep in his throat. These last few weeks that they had been in hiding, Yuuichirou had only ever known his best friend to be a gentle lover, a thoughtful partner during their lovemaking.

Truth be told, it was something that Yuu had gradually learned to get used to—and to an extent—even come to expect.

But alas, there was none of that tonight, not when Mika's crimson eyes burned with resentment and self-righteous injustice, his fervent kisses on Yuu's throat, his lips, his chest...all of them meant only one thing: a means of punishment to get a point across.

There was a driving persistence that was taut in the blond's muscles, his movements urgent from the very tips of his hands as he gripped the inside of Yuu's palms and held them above his head, threading their fingers together in silent desperation.

Yuuichirou knew better than to fight it, squeezing the vampire's hand as tightly as he could instead, biting his lip unconsciously. He spread his thighs farther apart, more than willing to accommodate him.

There was a surreal aspect about their encounter that night that Yuu couldn't help but notice, the way the late evening seemed so pleasant with the stars twinkling silently above them, the unsoiled scent of the ocean breeze lulling their other friends to sleep. Deep in the forest they ensconced themselves in, the cicadas chirped without a second thought, their toneless melody creating a seemingly contented environment.

Under the mercy of his best friend's voracity however, the last thing in Yuuichirou's mind was anything but peaceful.

Mika's grip was not painful, but the unspoken words behind it was strictly adamant that no concessions be made, not tonight, no truce or reconciliation that would be forthcoming any time soon.

It was an internal conflict between their two fundamentally different outlooks of the same situation; for now, they will let their lust do the talking for them.

"Why do you defend him...?!" Mika whispered furiously in his ear, his powerful hands frantically pulling at the white belt around Yuu's hip, letting out a growl of frustration when he finally yanked it free, the piece of leather snapping in two due to the force of his pull. "He's only using you!"

An accusation born from his bitterness; they both knew this, but the blond would be damned if he even so much as thought of acknowledging that fact out loud.

"No...he's our family, Mika!" Yuu replied with just as much conviction, a moan escaping past his lips when the blond managed to slip his hands underneath his shirt, caressing his nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pinching and pulling at them a little too harshly. "He's one of us—ahhh!"

"He means to use you for his own gain...! 'Bring back humanity the way it was'?! Ha! Don't make me laugh," Mika retorted back at him, his voice filled with such cynicism that it made Yuu's heart ache with melancholy.

His best friend's heart had no room for anyone else, closed off to the world as it was already. In the deep recesses of his mind, Yuuichirou felt the guilt of leaving him behind eat him alive once more, devouring him bit by bit.

Mikaela's mind filled to the brim with resentment, he didn't give Yuu a chance to say anything else, slamming his lips against the other boy's mouth, his fangs grazing the latter's bottom lip, impatient and obtrusive.

There was no sweet foreplay, no playful teasing in his kiss. Simply put, Mika was in no mood in holding himself back, and when Yuu tried to wrap his arms around his friend's neck, the blond arrogantly refused the gesture, pinning his wrists once more instead.

Unfazed by his partner's cold disposition however, Yuu opted instead to wrap his legs tightly around the vampire's hips, refusing to let go even as the blond tried to wiggle his body free, obstinate in wanting to dislodge him. As their tongues swirled together in fierce ardor, drool rolling down their chins, Yuu tried once more to talk sense to his friend, even as the pleasure of their kiss threatened to overwhelm him.

"Why don't you give Guren a chance—" he murmured, before Mika brought a hand to cover his eyes, plundering his friend's mouth even deeper, trying to quiet him down.

No...he'll neither listen nor hear anything more from him, the anger in his veins ringing in his ears.

They stayed like that for quite some time, but eventually, the need for air had to be addressed and Mika ripped his mouth away with a heated smack, lifting his hand from Yuu's face to insert two fingers inside his best friend's mouth. Mikaela's face only wore a blank expression while Yuuichirou's tongue curled around the digits, the blond instinctively fighting the urge to gag him completely.

Theirs was a clash of two completely different convictions, unwilling to hear out the other's point of view, their stubbornness overtaking the manner in which they tried to make the other listen. In retrospect (or perhaps it was nothing more than a comfort they tried to contend themselves with), the situation itself was not so different when they had been younger.

Nonetheless, the lewd expression on Yuu's face controlled Mika's violent urges for the moment, and the vampire let out a moan of arousal, pulling his hand away to bring his fingers to his own lips, his tongue sticking out to lick them clean. His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, his eyes never once leaving Yuu's face.

Having opened his eyes only to see Mika's intense gaze fully concentrated on him, Yuuichirou couldn't help but gulp in nervousness, his heart having skipped a beat or two while his body jolted from surprise. The exhilaration of being desired by the person before him coursed inside his chest, making him feel like he had become delicious prey at that very moment

And perhaps to some degree, he was correct.

As if reading his friend's thoughts, his fangs glistening with hunger, Mikaela abruptly lunged for Yuu's neck, the piercing sound of his teeth plunging against pliant flesh sharp in his ears. His hand letting go of his friend's wrist to hold the back of his neck and shoulder steady, he took his fill greedily, his throat gulping the vital essence with vigor.

As Yuuichirou felt the familiar rush of euphoria flooding his veins, he took his chance and wrapped his arms around Mika's neck, pulling him close, inhaling the pleasant scent of his hair, his legs wrapping around the vampire's waist even tighter, unwilling to let go.

While the blond continued to drink, his hands frantically fumbled to unbuckle his partner's pants, his fingers quickly pulling down on the zipper, yanking the garment down as much as he could, his eagerness getting the best of him. The sweet, intoxicating flavor of Yuu's blood seared itself into the very pores of his body, almost as if it were some miraculous elixir that would continuously bring him back to life, each and every time he consumed it.

Mikaela could feel the tantalizing call of impatience thrumming through his veins; he wanted to hear more from Yuu, wanted to feel him writhing and begging for mercy beneath him. The more aroused he became, the more the fire blazed inside of his own body in turn.

It was a delirious, foolhardy thing, wanting to get the both of them into a state of such a high that the fire roaring inside of his chest would ravage them whole, leaving not a single trace behind, any remnant or proof that they had existed together once, in harmony and naiveté. But in fairness, it was something that Mika had already come to anticipate, ever since he realized that his friend's loyalty extended beyond his own.

His current enmity towards Yuu was as great as his everlasting desire for him; even as a vampire, nothing has changed. Or perhaps that's not so accurate—having become a bloodsucking monster, the very existence of his passion for his best friend was an abnormality...the madness of a vampire.

Yuuichirou moaned in response, his hips lifting to help him, temporarily unwrapping his legs from around his friend's waist. His breaths coming out in short pants, his gaze drifted heavenwards, taking in the clear night sky full of mesmerizing stars, enough to render him awe-struck for a split second. While the pleasure of Mika's fangs embedded deep in his throat was almost enough to make him feel faint, it wasn't until the blond's fingers firmly wrapped themselves around his hardened length that Yuu's mind suddenly jolted from the haze of lust it had been submerged in, his eyes widening in disbelief, his throat involuntarily letting out a panicked gasp.  

Mikaela dislodged his fangs from his best friend's neck, not bothering to wipe away the stark traces of blood that had dribbled down his chin.  

There was no more time to react afterwards, not when the blond's hand moved swiftly, jacking him off with indecent vigor, his pace relentless from the onset. Yuuichirou's hands flexed stiffly, his heart pounding in his chest from such heavy stimulation, his toes curling inside his boots as breathless heaves of air escaped his throat, reducing him to speechlessness. Unable to help himself, he spread his legs farther apart, his hips gradually moving of their own accord in unison with his friend's actions.

Mika moved closer to him until their faces were only centimeters apart, his fingers tugging at Yuu's cock, his voice coming out in livid whispers while his mouth brushed against his lover's ear, almost as if he were about to cry. "You would choose him over me? Have I become so worthless to you...?!"

It was a low blow, and they both knew it. Guren was half the reason Yuuichirou was alive now, in the same vein that Mikaela compromised the other half. To make his best friend choose was unfair, unreasonable...cruel. Regardless of that logic, Mika couldn't help but feel petty—vindictive even, throwing reasoning out the window for all he cared at that precise moment.

In response to his friend's allegations, Yuuichirou could only shake his head vehemently, a tear escaping his eyes as he felt waves of pleasure violently assaulting him, sliding through the tunnel of his spine, traveling across the maze of his nerves. Precum oozed from the slit of his cock, and when he felt Mika's thumb press against it once—twice, his mind became a miasma of unspoken words, spinning inside his brain like a tornado, out of control.

'No...no, how could you even think of asking me that, when a day didn't pass where I wasn't think of you...! Yes...yes, yes, just like that...! Ahhh...it feels so good, I want more...!'

His mouth was incapable of coherent speech to form any semblance of a reasonable reply, so Yuuichirou did the first thing he came up with to sooth his best friend, clutching both sides of Mika's head, sunflower locks between his fingers, and crushing his lips against his own, his breath coming out as panting sobs. He could still taste the faint traces of his own blood inside his partner's  mouth, his heart still beating wildly in his chest when he felt himself becoming more aroused at the mere thought, the erotic image stamping itself into the canvas of his mind when he realized how monstrous...and alluring his friend looked at that precise moment, their saliva and his blood sinfully mingling together.

In its own way, it was somewhat ridiculous, the last vestiges of Yuu's mind thought. Mika's heart was broken because of him, because of his actions...and the only thing he could do to mend it was give him a silly kiss, unoriginal as that was. Still, Yuuichirou put forth all the effort into that one single gesture, tilting his chin a bit to kiss him even deeper, the unceasing, wet slap of their lips and tongues sounding obscene to anyone who may have chanced upon them.

Mikaela was taken aback by his friend's abrupt boldness, but the surge of fury still roared within him, and he tried to break away at first, his fingers choosing to move up and down much faster instead, his hand utterly slick by that point.

Mika snarled internally, languishing when he felt his body betray him, and he couldn't help but return Yuu's kiss with savage fervor. Though his irritation governed his body for the present, Mikaela chided himself in that he could never deny his best friend anything.

Yuuichirou was an honest, stubborn man, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when he wouldn't let the blond move away, keeping their mouths fastened together while his hands eventually let slid from the vampire's cheeks to his behind. His hands caressed and massaged the vampire's buttocks, squeezing them, instinctively pushing them downwards toward his crotch.

A few seconds later on, his forest-colored eyes snapped open without warning, and he quickly broke away from their kiss, holding onto Mika's neck, burying his nose in the latter's hair as he unabashedly groaned out loud, his voice sounding nothing if not shameless, his orgasm racking turbulently throughout his entire body, as if each nerve ending contained within were exploding with fireworks.

His body twitched from the afterglow of coming, yet that didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around Mika's hips once more, insistently pulling him down.

"Mika...Mika..." Yuuichirou chanted his name over and over again, a silent plea, his eyes glazed over as he looked up to see the blond breathing raggedly, his eyes hidden beneath his bangs. For a passing second, he couldn't help but admire how menacing Mikaela looked, how dangerously beautiful he was, and how he could have become so attracted to his best friend, longing for him more and more ever since he laid eyes upon him again all those months ago in Shinjuku.

Wantonly, he pulled the vampire closer to him, groaning in dissatisfaction when Mikaela refused to budge an inch, bringing a hand to cover his face instead, his fingers quivering, trying to remain in control of himself.

Traces of dried blood stained the blond's chin, and he hovered over Yuu quietly for a few seconds, fighting internally within himself to maintain his calm. His body shook with arousal, the sight of Yuu begging for him inciting sparks of pleasure to his groin, and he couldn't help but let out a smile that could only be described as deranged, wisely choosing to hide his expression behind his palm.

But when he felt Yuuichirou's fingers reaching up unhurriedly to stroke his hardened length through his pants, his best friend's mouth hanging open with candid desire, he felt something becoming undone inside of him, a staunch tether that had wrapped itself firmly around the monster within the alcove of his soul unraveling before his very eyes, helpless as he was to stop it.

And when his best friend realized that he wouldn't be stopping him any time soon, Yuu deftly unzipped his partner's pants and pulled them down, sitting up to envelop the vampire in his mouth, clutching the base of Mika's sex while he took in as much of the shaft as he could, closing his eyes in bliss, contentedly humming to himself.

It was all the blond could take, and before he could allow to let Yuuichirou go any farther, he brusquely shoved him backward, letting his mouth slide off of him as the latter yelped in surprise.

"Mika, what—" Yuu began, before he was abruptly cut off when the blond savagely kissed him, molding their lips together as he drew out his friend's tongue between his teeth, sucking on it while he brought his crotch downwards to rub against the other boy's manhood.

For a blessed moment, the blond could allow  himself to let go of his resentment, the exquisite, pleasurable warmth radiating from the lower half of his body finally overwhelming the last remnants of clarity in his mind, drowning him in the animalistic intoxication of coming together with his best friend like this.

He broke away from their kiss, bringing his lips to Yuu's ear and nipping at the cartilage, enough that it drew blood, earning him a moan from the other man. As the small bead of blood oozed from the shallow wound, Mikaela licked it clean with his tongue, the sensation of his warm breath against Yuu's skin making the latter blush from the roots of his hair.

Yuuichirou shook his head at the feel of the sudden, intimate contact, beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead and the back of his neck, and he shut his eyes tightly in response, his chest heaving. He responded back to Mika with genuine earnestness, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, his hips lifting and moving up and down to create even more friction between them.

He repeated Mika's name over and over again, his mind solely focused on that one connection between them, where their bodies met and intertwined and became one.

It didn't take long for Mikaela to lose himself within the gratifying sensations of moving against Yuu's warm body, their cocks sliding against one another in a dizzying spiral of ecstasy, his hips moving of its own accord as he gradually increased his pace, the bliss running through his nerves maddening, as if he were blindly reaching for something intangible, sending his train of thought into an exasperating frenzy.

From the corner of his eye, Mikaela briefly spotted their weapons haphazardly thrown on the ground, a silent witness to their midnight tryst. How easy it would be...the vampire thought, to end everything right there and then, away from prying eyes, where he had Yuuichirou all to himself, the latter's mind currently filled with nothing but the blond's existence. He would be able to pull his best friend to the farthest dregs of heaven or hell or wherever it was that departed souls go to in the afterlife, take him away from the cursed plague that was Ichinose Guren and all the others whom were a danger to him...away from this ridiculous trash heap of filth they called their world.

It was an awfully tempting thing to contemplate, in spite of the fact that no matter what, he already knew in his heart that he would never be able to pull of such a feat; the prospect of a life with Yuu...the possibility of it...tempted him so much more.

Pulling Yuuichirou into a tight embrace, Mika dug his forehead onto his friend's shoulder, his teeth clenching tightly while his throat let out a guttural moan, his hands clenched tightly against the fabric of Yuu's shirt. He could feel his orgasm coming very soon, the speed of his movements becoming jerky, wholly frantic.

"You feel so good...so good, Mika...!" Yuu groaned low into the blond's ear, bringing his hands to clutch at the vampire's backside, pressing their crotches together even harder. Without warning, he had restricted his partner's hurried pace, electrifying the pleasure between them even further.

They both grunted, their voices erotically mingling together, unable to keep their volume down any longer. It was all that either of them could take, and within seconds, Mikaela came first, his cum shooting out to stain the surface of Yuu's shirt, his body shaking afterwards from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He collapsed on top of him, his breath heaving in the crook of his neck.

Yuuichirou came shortly after for the second time, his back beautifully arching upwards as he rode the seamless waves of euphoria, his mouth hanging obscenely. He held Mikaela to him as tightly as he could for the longest time, only letting go when the blond roughly shoved himself away from him, seemingly aware of himself once more.

Still panting, Mika's eyes were listless once more as he slowly turned his gaze towards Yuu, before looking away, his expression unreadable, pulling up his pants and sitting a couple of feet away from his best friend.

Deafening silence.

The atmosphere between them then seemed almost...anti-climatic.

With his back facing Yuuichirou, he didn't utter a single word, but only brought a hand to massage his temples, the anger slamming back itself into existence inside his brain. This time however, thankfully, his temper was more in-check and he didn't feel as...unreasonable.

If he were honest with himself, he didn't know what to say to Yuu, his current state at a loss for words. Nothing much had changed with their situation, their respective beliefs just as immovable as it was from the beginning.

There was no mutual understanding between them at that point, not even a meeting of minds halfway, the both of them being stubborn idiots as they were (the last thought did make him smile a bit though).

What's more, when Yuuichirou suddenly came up from behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulder, leaning his nose forward to lay against the softness of his hair before moving to run butterfly kisses along the back of his neck and shoulders, Mika still couldn't say anyhting, only that he felt oddly content, despite the numerous problems that still lie ahead of them.

Bringing a hand to lay on top of Yuu's fingers, Mikaela let out a weary sigh and hesitantly leaned into his lover's embrace, tenderly running his thumb across the back of his palm.

Once again...silence, buzzing in his ear, a persistent presence.  

But it wasn't a bad thing, not at all...quite the contrary, it was perfectly all right. In fact, he could even go so far as to say that he preferred it, for the time being anyway.

He looked down on the ground, his eyes contemplating, the harsh scarlet of his gaze from earlier having cooled to a calmer maroon.

For now, the vampire thought quietly to himself, staring out at nothing while he continued to stroke Yuu's hand absentmindedly, closing his eyes at the sensation of his friend's lips caressing his skin, until they can figure things out from herein starting tomorrow...the silence will do.

For now.