2928 : ARMAGEDDON - 00

2928 : ARMAGEDDON - 00

prev. next. wattpad.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒;

the mortals.

solanine.  ❝ the poison in the nightshade.❞

• adonis.  ❝ the lord.❞

•

roxanne.  ❝ the dawn of the day.❞

•

keara. ❝ the dark one.❞

•

  sandros.  ❝ the defender of humankind.❞

Ugly Love

Vil, my beloved, I don’t feel like I can do him justice. But if anyone has to make a change to love someone, then it would be him, let’s be real :P Also I hurt myself every time I have to write Schoenheit knowing my keyboard literally has an ö-key, but that’s a german problem I guess…

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairings: Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Forced Touch/Kissing, Violent Fantasies like biting and strangling mentioned, There are some mention of not being pretty because of under-eye bags or when he isn’t perfect so lowkey body issues and later reflected on the reader in comparison, Lowkey-highkey anger issues due to suppressed/unacknowledged emotions

Prompt:  @sintember Transformation - Becoming comes with pain, with loss. What skin do you shed, and what steps into new moonlight?

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

That’s what he was—the most beautiful in the land.

At least, in Vil’s and some other eyes, he already held the title and the crown to be just like the one he aspired to be. He already had the tenacity that someone chosen to represent the dorm of the Fairest Queen should have; discipline and persistence were all traits Vil could identify with. Even if there was the occasional hiccup with his archrival Neige, no one in all of Night Raven College could have denied Vil the respect he deserved in terms of beauty and dedication.

It had taken a lot of time—years even!—to become the man he was now, guided by beauty and grace, and a lot of biting his tongue from speaking his true opinion and clenching his teeth so his costumes would always fit. He had to go through a lot to be able to afford to speak his mind and know how much and what to eat to not endure the hardships this life he chose threw at him, but it all worked out in the end.

That, already, had been a massive change for Vil.

One that he basked in every day like he was blessed by the gods themselves.

Being like this had its own price. Vil had to ignore the people talking behind his back, the whispers of envious onlookers. Every time he did anything, he had to prove himself as the figure he was made out to be, so no one could call him a monster in hiding. He woke up when the sun barely lurked from behind the horizon, already preparing himself for his day while others still slumbered. No one knew about all the experiments he had to do on himself, the constant improvements and changes he had to undergo to fit the expectations, especially the ones he put on himself. But he didn’t mind. He also thought it was best to be perceived to be effortless, adding to his charm.

Until you came along.

Vil Schoenheit needn’t impress anyone, and no one impressed him. But he did stand even a tiny bit straighter next to you, imposing, tall, so you’d have to stretch out this pretty neck of yours that he’d like to adorn in jewels, bite marks, or his hands. No one would notice his inappropriate thoughts except maybe Rook, who observed you two curiously but never intervened.

But much to everyone’s chagrin, it didn’t concern you in any way as the housewarden was trying to tempt you with his charm seeping off him. You didn’t even want to stick around to admire him after you asked your question about potions (and he graciously answered), waving your hand at him and bounding away unbothered by Vil’s posture faltering or his eyes widening in disbelief, an expression so rarely allowed on his face. He had no intention to lose his composure, and yet, if only for a split second, you brought him to his, figuratively speaking, knees.

And that’s when all his hard work went down the drain.

Suddenly, just because you were so incomprehensible rude as to not give him the attention he deserved from you, the carefully built house of cards that was his mental state collapsed. He had steeled himself for years, improved, changed, and transformed himself into perfection. In terms of humans, wasn’t he the species most remarkable? Yet, he couldn’t even keep the attention of one otherworldly visitor? Unforgivable. Absolutely despicable, and he could not stand the idea of just ignoring you.

Suddenly, things were all about you. He no longer worked out to keep his body fit; he did it to run by Ramshackle Dorm in the hope of catching your attention this way. He created the most potent poisons and best-selling potions so his face would be on every newspaper, the NRC’s homepage, and posters around the school, so you’d have to compliment him on his success eventually. Rook even noted that Vil changed the shade of his lipstick after he found out what colors you liked and cleaned out his wardrobe to make room for new things that fit your style.

Something. He just needed something that would make you go, “Oh, wow, Vil!” and he would have been satisfied. But the day never came. When he did pass you in the hallways, you’d greet him, keep up eye contact, and nod at him before letting him stew by himself. You didn’t even care about what he did for you to notice! Either you were ignoring them willingly or couldn’t be bothered, and Vil didn’t know which was worse.

It got so far that he lost sleep over it, and seeing dark circles under his eyes—a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred for a decade or so—he realized he had to take drastic measures to save himself from the shame you put on his head.

Vil couldn’t stand around and let you play with him like this. If subtle nudges didn’t work on you, he had to go into the offensive. He was the fairest of them all, damnit! It couldn’t be that one unworthy student would ruin him like this! So he put on his best clothes, did his hair, and concealed the marks of shame under his eyes with make-up, radiating elegance and class as he marched through the hallways, everyone parting and freeing up the way for him.

Ordering his entourage to stay outside your classroom, he went inside alone, his heart beating out of his chest as he suddenly felt nervous at the sight of you chatting and laughing with other students. Not noticing him at all. God, why did his heart, mind, and soul choose you when you had so little regard for his presence? When did he develop these feelings, or had they been right there from the beginning? What was even the potion you asked him about all these weeks ago?

It didn’t matter. Bellowing a loud, “Get out!” everyone jumped up before hurrying outside, and he grabbed your collar before you could slip out in the mass of students he ordered to give you two some space. Rook closed the door behind the last student, giving Vil a wink as you stood there, confusion visible on your face. Finally, he let you down again, trying to resist fixing your uniform but eventually clicking his tongue and smoothing out the wrinkles he caused, almost feeling bad.

But not so bad that he didn’t start to scold you the second he was done.

You looked at him—finally!—wide-eyed and shocked as Vil laid into you about your manners and incredible rudeness towards him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he hated you for being able to just express your emotions this freely and not thinking twice before doing anything. That’s right! What he felt for you was hate. He hated you for having all the freedoms and not caring about other opinions and doing things just because you wanted to. Eat, drink, sleep, you could do it without thinking of the consequences it had for your skin or figure and your future job or social media promotions.

He screamed this at you, repeating over and over how he hated people like you, but you especially, and you backed away, beginning to feel frightened by his anger dripping from his lips until he backed you up against a wall. Neither of you knew what was happening as his arms caged you in. His voice finally gave out as his face was inches away from yours, his heavy breaths caressing your skin, and you made the fatal mistake of looking at his lips. A look that shattered even the last boundaries between you for Vil.

Before you knew it, he was smearing lipstick all over your lips, teasing, biting at the supple flesh until you flinched. You gasped for air, pushing your hands into his chest as he leaned into you, but Vil took it as an invitation to slip his tongue across yours. Even though you grabbed his clothes and ruined his whole look with your hands, his make-up with your lips, and his heart by merely existing, Vil couldn’t care less for once. You screamed muffled words into the kiss, but he only felt his face heat up to the tips of his ears, his mind growing foggy at the intensity of the kiss.

You made him wonder if red suited him.

He’d have to see that in front of a mirror and try it again just to be sure. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, silent just because neither of you knew what to say. You were obviously disgusted by the taste of his kiss, but something had changed inside Vil. It didn’t bother him so much. Looking up, he caught his reflection in the glass window and witnessed the joy shimmering in his eyes and the sensual expression on his face. All he could think about was how beautiful he was like this.

God, he was stunning.

He loved this.

Yes, he hated you. He hated the ugly noises you made, the coughing and wiping your face as you started lecturing him about how wrong it was to kiss you. He hated that you made him miserable by transforming him into someone with bags under his eyes and unashamedly losing his cool and scolding a freshman who wasn’t even in his own dorm. Logically, he knew you couldn’t be blamed for his feelings, but he still hated everything about how you made him feel and how you forced him to kiss you with that chaste glance at his lips.

Bringing a hand up to your face, you flinched as he cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips. And yet… he didn’t hate this. The sight of his lipstick smeared on your face, the same hatred shining through your eyes that he had for you, and how you shivered ever so slightly at his touch because there was still a part of you that was afraid of him.

Vil shivered too. He could feel the transformation that was occurring inside him once again. It was changing him, scurrying him up and wrenching into place, making space in his heart. A change that was so ugly, he never thought he’d go through it. One he’d never show to anyone but you. Before you could protest, he lifted you into his arms, ordered Rook to get the door from the outside, and marched off with you wiggling in his hold. However, he was much stronger, much more powerful than you after everything he did to make his dream of absolute beauty come true. You never stood a chance against him, and little did Vil know, he never did stand a chance against you either.

From the very beginning, you had captivated him, causing the change to take place long before he claimed you as his. All this time, neither of you even knew it was happening. Only true love’s kiss could unravel the truth behind his erratic behavior and actions, and open his eyes to new opportunities and a future he had never cared about. It made him want to change himself in any way possible, whether good or bad, right or wrong, and it was nothing like he had ever felt before. But Vil knew he’d rather lose himself than lose this feeling you caused inside of him, no matter how much either of you would hurt in the process.

Because, in the end, love was absolutely hideous.

And Vil had yet to learn of the depths of ugliness it would cause him to plunge into.

do you still take request for black butler? if so could i rq something with sebastian where his s/o (who is also a phantomhive servant) gets injured and/or almost drowns during the book of atlantic?

(i tried searching for rules on your page but couldn’t find any so feel free to ignore this if it goes against anything!)

Muddled Waters (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗦𝗢 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗢𝗬 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝗼𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗰 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 (𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝘂𝘁𝗹𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟮 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛)

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you dozed off.

  Minutes? Maybe hours since you were last awake enough to answer a few questions. In all honestly, you doubt you can even remember what was asked you. You doubt you can even remember what you said in response. Were they asking about survivors? Or maybe the fallen? Perhaps a few questions about what happened in the last moments you were still on board. Or even a few inquiries about your Master. Or maybe, just maybe a question or two about your health. However poor it may be at the moment, you know you’re getting better. Slowly, but surely, you’re getting better. 

  Though it may have something to do with a certain distinguished butler with careful hands taking the utmost care of you at this moment.

  You don’t have to open your eyes to know that the individual hovering over you, neatly tying the bow on the front of the borrowed nightgown you’re dressed in is your Sebastion. You just know it’s him. Still, you fight against the sleepy lull that keeps threatening to pull you under once more to open your eyes and give your savior a small smile. 

  “Hi...” Your voice comes out in a harsh whisper that has him shushing you in an instant. And you don’t blame him. All that saltwater you must have swallowed throughout the course of the night is truly catching up to you. It burns your throat with any attempt to use your voice like no other. A sign of your survival sure, but your mind can’t help but wander to others’ perception of the ugly sound you have no other option but to produce for now. You must have sounded awful to him. To the others. It was so unlike yourself. “Sebastian, I…”

  Your mind stalls the minute his voice leaves your lips. What to say, what to say? What can you say at this point? Your head feels like it's full of clouds and your eyelids feel as heavy as stone. The nightgown covering your body is cool against your skin, still warm and tinted red from the bath Sebastian must have drawn for you. But your biggest enemy was no doubt the bed he has you laying on. The quilt beneath your body was incredibly soft. Perhaps even softer than your bed at the Phantomhive Manor- something you dare not say beyond the comfort of your own thoughts. You feel safe. It’s a welcomed change after all that you’ve been through last night. A thank you is in order. And you’d prefer for it to be sooner rather than later. But one look on your face is enough to convince you to delay your words of praise. 

  “Shh…” This time, the sound comes out firmer. An order from your senior. A request from your lover. Your lips part on instinctive, but there’s nothing for you to say. Not with him hovering over you, signs of wear and tear covering his gorgeous figure. He protected you and Master Ciel last night. He always protects you and Master Ciel, no matter what. The very least you could do was listen obediently and not cause him any more trouble. “Don’t speak now. Just rest. I’ll have something here for your throat soon enough.”

  Red eyes meet yours- so full of concern and care that it’s hard not to shiver when he takes the second away from dressing you to place his hand against your cheek. Despite your best efforts, embarrassment springs forth from the back of your mind. You’re filled with an overwhelming urge to hide yourself. You’re more capable than this. As a servant of the Phantomhive family, you know you’re more capable of this. But ever since the night started, you’ve felt like little more than a nuisance. 

  The last thing you can remember, was while you were still on the deck of the rescue ship. The one that had finally plucked you, Master Ciel, and Sebastian from the little lifeboat out in the middle of the ocean. At that point, you were fighting to stay conscious as you were carried in Sebastian’s arms. Always fading in and out against your wishes. The warmth of the sun’s beams proves to be an easy lullaby to your cold and tattered body. But the constant stream of voices in your ears and light on your face proved to be the opposite. Still, you couldn’t muster up the energy to do anything but listen when you could. Not being able to muster enough strength to stand on your own two feet or to think coherently is a humbling experience. A frightening one. And all it does is serve to remind you of the strength you just don’t have compared to the others around you. 

  Before that, you recall drawing into yourself as shivering to keep warm as Sebastian kills off the rest of the living corpses- mere seconds after pulling you from the freezing cold waters of the Atlantic. Minutes bled into hours. The gruesome show never stopped. The chill that overtook you came with a vengeance. A vengeance that took away any shred of assistance you could even offer in such a dangerous situation.

  Even now, you’re not completely sure of the details surrounding what happened after the three of you were thrown into the water. In fact, the only thing you could remember was the feeling of hitting the water and going down. Down, down, down, and not being able to tell which way is up. Thinking you were going to drown. Knowing you were going to drown. All until you felt arms circling your wasting and pulling you to the surface. 

  From there, the images in your head become a blurry mess. Master Ciel’s voice is laced through your memories. Just like the scent of rotting flesh and the sight of red-stained waters. Your mind races with the encounter you just had seconds before being through off the ship. Scientists that go too far. Reapers that fight with a laugh in their voice. The dead that find a way to walk and to bleed again just so they can die once more. Then Sebastian. Doing everything in his power to protect Master Ciel. To protect you. Including getting hurt. 

  Including getting hurt.

  “Sebastian!” His name tumbles out of your mouth clumsily as you sit up and make a mad dash for him. He’s quick to stop you from moving any further with a firm push to your shoulders. Still, the damage has already been done. You can’t focus on anything else. You can’t think of anything else. With your memories from last night slowly uncovering themselves, your attention zeros in on a dark red, ugly stain left on his torso. The place he was stabbed. “You’re…you’re injured!”

  “And you…” In a flash, his voice is dangerously close to your ear. Another shiver passes over you as his labored breaths brush over your skin. His tone was serious. A quiet type of fury only he held when he was frustrated while trying to keep his composure. You’ve seen it a few times. Directed at the other servants. Directed at those who proved to be a nuisance in the way of Master Ciel’s plans. Directed at those who set out to harm you. But to feel it- to feel it with every breath he takes, and to wonder where his anger lies. It’s a different story entirely. “You were very close to a grave last night. Too close. Too close.”

  A story that you’re not sure you want to hear at all.

  “I’m-” You start to say. His hands squeeze your shoulders once. Twice, as if to serve as a reminder that you’re still here with him, before traveling downward. It takes him little effort to lift you from the bed once his hands have found a suitable position. And even less of an effort as he holds you like a bride upon his lap. The servant in you can’t help but think of all the stains that might rub off just from close contact like this. But the human in you just sits there and breathes in the sight of a lover growing closer and closer until it’s impossible to part from each other. And even then, he grows closer. “I just…”

  An apology. An apology sits in your throat. An apology for getting in the way. For not being of more use. For making him vulnerable. Weak. For getting him hurt. But it dies right where it lies due to a silent killer. A kiss. Behind your ear. Then on the lobe. And on the cheek. The nose. The eyelids, the forehead, the chin, the jaw, the neck, the lips- everywhere. Quiet kisses that told you that the danger has passed. Quiet kisses that land on every tear that rolls down your cheeks. Quiet kisses that make you feel warm. Warmer than embrace he holds you in. 

  And the warmest you’ve felt since getting on this damned boat and sailing straight past hell. 

DABI’S DANCE!

The god of sleep has no dreams of his own. When Hypnos sleeps, it grants him the opportunity of visiting those of others, drifting along as on a gentle river. It’s comforting. Shards and glimpses of lives that aren’t his own, of people and places that won’t ever mean the same to him, the visions indirectly threaded by his fingers. There are far too many dreams for him to make, which is why most aren’t. He brings them to sleep, and their bodies do most of the work.

Regardless, it is his domain. Every mortal needs to sleep, whether they like it or not, which makes him an inevitable part of their life. A third of every human’s day rests in his hands. As payment, all he wants to do is observe, to be in their company. (Hypnos likes humans. They don’t notice him in sleep, or worship him in their days, but he doesn’t mind. It’s easier to handle being ignored when it’s not their choice, when it’s impossible for them to notice him, rather than his mom’s cold eyes passing through him like he’s a sliver of mist.

At least when he’s among the dreams of the living, he’s less alone. There’s no judgement, but no praise either.) With how many mortals and dreams there are to go around, it’s rare for him to visit more than once. Though it’s much rarer for anyone to take note of him. Most people aren’t aware they’re dreaming while doing so, being swept along by their dreams instead of having control, but you’re not one of those. You’re blessed with lucidity, morphing bits and pieces of the experience as you go. Most importantly…

You see him. You laugh. “Well, I didn’t think I was lonely enough to make up some guy to keep me company… Guess you learn something new every day!”

In one motion, you pinch his chin between your fingers and pull his face towards yours. He lets out a surprised noise, at the fact you can touch him in the first place, and the movement itself. And it’s a high and squeaky sound, one that makes him want to curl up in his blanket and slip from this dream to the next. You make no comment on it, only smiling wider.

“Ooooh, your eyes are golden! So pretty… Glad my subconsciousness has good taste, at least.” You add the last part to yourself, laughing again.

You don’t think he’s real, just some made up character of your dream. It’s no surprise you aren’t aware that you can’t dream about someone you’ve never seen before. For now, he’s glad to have you believe that. It’d be more humiliating if you knew a god was making such a fool out of himself, heat rising to his face. His tongue is limp in his mouth. When was the last time someone called him pretty? Had anyone ever called him that, and touched him so carelessly? You save him from the burden of speaking up first.

“What’s your name? Do you have one?”

He hesitates. If you knew who he was, you wouldn’t treat him the same anymore. “I don’t! But, um-!“

Hypnos knows and accepts what others think of him, knows that he’s no good at his job or much else, but if there’s one thing he would excel in, it would be here. He straightens his back a bit from its usual slouch, the tips of his feet grazing the ground as he floats. “I’m here to make sure you’re going to have a grand old time, you know? I know aaaall about having fun in dreams! Why, you could call me an expert! At your service.”

He does this stupid little bow, and immediately regrets it. You laugh, but not at him, and people don’t usually find him this entertaining, he thinks, and if you keep this up, it will become one of his favourite sounds.

“Alright, mister dream expert,” You say with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

He helps you float like he does, and assists you at conjuring up whatever idea pops into your brain. Hypnos expected you , but that’s not all you do. You try to ask him questions about himself, even if you supposedly don’t think he’s real, and you actually listen. And when you tell him about yourself in return, he does the same. It’s fun, he’s having a good time, and he’s disappointed when he’s jolted awake because of someone walking too close past him. He’ll have to apologise for suddenly disappearing next time. (Next time? Does he want there to be a next time?)

Hypnos makes a habit out of visiting you. You’re not always aware you’re asleep, sometimes your dreams are the same as any other human’s. He savours those days too, at the insights into your life it offers him. However, it’s most enjoyable when you look at him with bright eyes and talk to him, and laugh at things he says and joke around at this side. There’s a warm tightness in his chest around you, he’s happy, he is, but also impossibly nervous to mess up and have your smile turn into a sneer. It’s surprising you even still want to be around him, if past experience is anything to go by, he isn’t any good at not annoying people. But you’re different. You haven’t insulted him at any point, either! You must really be some blessing.

Hypnos thinks he likes you. A lot. He’s never thought of it before, whether this is allowed or not. Never considered the possibility of forming a close bond through dreams. Hypnos decides that it is, and who would he even ask, isn’t he the deity of sleep? He’ll make his own rules, number one being that it’s totally a-okay to have dream friends! That you visit and think about all the time and spend all your time thinking up new fun ideas for! And sometimes you scratch their name into the margins of your lists while zoning out! He’s getting off track. (And, well, this all seems more like a problem exclusive to him…) What he wants most is to have you down here with him, to touch you and feel something, to have you around while you’re awake and asleep.

But to do that… It would be an offense to all sacred rules to meddle directly with the path the Fates had set out for you. Perhaps they’ll have some mercy on him for being family. Either way, he’s going to falsify your cause of death in the records. He’s tired of being a bystander in your life. Hypnos doubts whether you can even remember him when you wake up. He isn’t exhausted in his normal way however, it’s no tugging at his eyelids or yawns hidden behind an open palm. This hurts. It’s an ache, an empty hole beyond his ribs. Your warmth needs to fill it, he’s sure. He wouldn’t be able to stand and watch as your life blossomed, how you would inevitably love someone else, be happy and forget about him all together. (It’s unfair. He’s never had anyone that wanted be anything of his. Not a friend, not family, not a lover. And now you’re here, the first to not see him as a disgrace, and now he should let himself be stopped by some old rules?) Because compared to what someone right there with you could give, what did he have to offer? If he believed everyone else, he had nothing of worth to give anyone. All he had was this love, what he thinks is love. But you laugh with him, you seem happy, and what he knows of human life is suffering. So many terrible deaths, so many unresolved emotions, so many wishes that never came to be.

Hypnos could save you from it all. You would never have to worry about anything again. But he knows how much humans fear death: It’s reflected so often in their worst nightmares, after all. The last thing he wants to do is scare you.. How surprised you’ll be at suddenly finding out he’s real, not just a figment of imagination!

He’s giddy. The two of you could have be together forever! (And if you didn’t love him back, why would you smile at him like that? Why did you always say you were happy to see him return? He has neither experience in friendships or relationships, but he shares those sentiments, so you must love him too. Otherwise… He doesn’t want to think about it .)

So he visits you. Hypnos floats above your bed, watching down upon you. He caresses your face as you rest, watching you through lidded eyes. You called him it first, but you’re pretty too. He doesn’t care about your hair being a mess, or the dried drool on your chin, or how you lay in a weird position, legs and blanket all tangled up. Your soft breaths are adorable, and he wants to coo at you, to make your face turn warm instead of his.

The thought of his brother seeing you and taking your soul makes him uncomfortable, he wants this vision of you to be only his.

Your eyes crack open with a little groan and before you have the chance to struggle or cry out, he presses a kiss against your forehead, forcing some of his raw power into your frail, mortal body.

It shouldn’t hurt. He asked. Your form was never meant to take godly powers, it’s too overwhelming, destroying you from within, and you go limp within a second. It’s like you fell asleep. A sleep so deep you will never awaken again. (i know hypnos doesn’t govern dreams his sons do but i had an Idea,, hope u enjoyed!!)

—

(THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE OH MY GOSH!!!!! You’re so talented, this is written so beautifully, it’s amazing!!!!

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST!!! I’ve had a busy past few days ^^; I also hope it’s okay that I had to edit it, or it’d be a big block of text, hehe. Thank you so much again!!!! 💚💚💚)