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MY BABY IDIA THAT YOU??? IT IS

Sanrio x Twisted wonderland 🎉

why has this got me kicking my feet? Excuse me? Floyd what you doin to me!??? AHHHHHHHHHHH

It's Only You

Sebek Zigvolt x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You'd never thought how difficult it could be to love someone without receiving affection back. The daunting realization of your unrequited love led you to leaving him. You never meant much anyways- you were always just there and he was sure you'd return. Time flew by as he waited for your return.

TW: Angst, mentions of death, depression, mentions of unhealthy relationships.

The pitter and patter of rain filled the silence enveloping the room. It was unusual for Sebek to be so silent for he was usually so boisterous, if not impulsive. Whether he was enraged, content, or glum, he was always loud- reckless. It was odd- this thick, suffocating silence that pierced through your skin. A shiver traveled down your spine, your lips forming a thin, straight line.

"Sebek, I said something."

You spoke up, as if offended by his lack of reaction. Never once was he so apathetic. You expected more, much more by an individual who was usually so reckless, so volatile. If not verbally than through expressions, you wanted a reaction- it was a given, you confusion, considering this side was something you'd never seen, no one had ever seen. Yet, there was no response merely a wide-eyed gaze he sent your way.

"If you won't respond then I guess the feeling's mutual."

You spoke up once more, irritation present in your words. A sigh left your lips, his olive gaze still fixed on you. It wasn't as if he didn't speak to spite you- no, it was quite the opposite. He was speechless. Everything was fine, nothing was out of place- both of you were alright, perfectly content together. Then why had you just said you wanted to end it? Was your relationship that meaningless? Did he mean nothing? Was your bond that fickle?

The rain continued to pour down as you packed, taking your things one by one. You presence vanished little by little leaving him alone- in solitude. He stood in the same spot as you removed yourself from his life- his home. His eyes were glassy, not that you noticed.

"Goodbye Sebek."

That was the last thing you said before leaving, suitcase in hand.

He came back to his senses, his voice returning to him as the door shut with a loud 'thud'. He called out your name several times, shouting at the top of his lungs. As if to mock him, the rain pattered against the windows even harder, silencing him. Without a thought he ran outside, his usually neat hair now wet and tousled. His eyes searched for you, his heart drumming inside his chest- his throat was raw from screaming, his vision blurry. His body was soaked, his tears camouflaging- becoming one with the drops of rain. His body shook, a shiver running down his back; it was now he realized that you had left. It wasn't a nightmare, nor a delusion, and it definitely wasn't a joke. This was reality.

Even if he found you, begged you to stay- your answer would remain the same. You were tired. You were sick of being a second option- no, a last resort. Someone or something always came before you. Whether it was his loyalty for Malleus or his affection for knighthood. You were never number one. Frankly, you had been alright with that, knowing your relationship with Sebek was fairly one-sided; you'd begged for his love, had you not? In his eyes you had. Not that he didn't care at all, but just not to the level you did. You were useful to him, always there when he needed you to be. Never once did you think of your own needs- neither did he. That was until you did. There was only so much you could ignore before you felt lonely- alone.

No matter how selfish it sounded, you wanted to bask in his affection. He was your spouse, wasn't he? He made vows to you, didn't he? He was your soulmate, was he not?

Then why were you ditched for his loyalty to Malleus? Then why had he made it clear that you could be replaced, Malleus couldn't? Then why were you never never first- not once?

Why didn't you mean anything to him, who meant everything to you?

Your love was unrequited, to an extent at least. You knew you had agreed to something of this sort upon falling for him- yet this daunting realization hurt more than you wanted it to. You wished for everything to go back to how it was- you wanted to be blind once more. You wanted to unsee this new vision, to go back to your old perception of reality.

You wanted to mend this broken relationship. As if you were a child who had just noticed that life was not, in fact, perfect you tried convincing yourself that it was. You were better off believing in the false perfection of the world- of your relationship. You didn't want to believe that he didn't care. You were not being neglected. You couldn't be.

You just had to communicate, that would fix everything.

You spoke up, he didn't listen. You spoke up once more, he had better things to do. You spoke up again and as expected, he couldn't care less.

It poured down as you spoke up for the last time, this time adding that you were simply leaving. His opinion didn't matter anymore- too many chances had been missed. You weren't a doormat, not any more.

You waited far too long for someone who wouldn't come around. That realization daunted upon him- he was guilty of a crime he wished he hadn't committed.

His body coiled up, quivering as his garments clung to his skin. He sat on the wet road, the sky darkening as the rain roared down. His eyes were fixed on the ground, shameless tears trickling down his face. If Malleus saw him like this- no, if anyone saw him in such a state, he wouldn't mind. He was confused to have such thoughts- he should mind, should he not? You were gone. It shouldn't affect him so much, not at all. What were you? A spouse, but only in name. Then why did his heart pang so loudly? Why was your sweet voice playing in his mind? Why was it now that he saw your pain? Why now, when it was far too late?

His life was different from there on. You had an affect on his life and took on such an important role, yet never realized - if you had, maybe you wouldn't have left. He wished both of you had remained blind, playing house forever- no matter how suffocating it got. Maybe then he wouldn't be so melancholic.

Days passed by.

His halls were empty, signifying his solitude. The little knick knacks you used to keep were gone, those stupid little hand-drawn doodles he used to find on random pieces of paper were all in the past. The times you cooked for him, no matter whether he he liked it or not- he missed it. The scent of your shampoo never lingered around the house anymore, neither did the sound of your sweet voice.

He would stand at the door everyday yet no one came to greet him once he returned home, neither did he have anyone to greet. No one played music that hurt his ears anymore- he never thought he'd miss that. He still made portions for two everyday, leave it on a plate only for the food to go stale. He still clung onto the last bit of hope that you would return- that he wouldn't have to be alone. Yet, everyday you proved him wrong.

Weeks passed by.

Was this how you felt? Was this how your heart ached? He wished he had listened to your rambles, that he'd paid attention to whatever stupid show you used to watch. Maybe if he had then he could watch those shows to remind himself of you- yet he didn't remember. He never thought he could cry so freely, never once had he been someone so sensitive. What else could he even do? There was no one to scold, to scorn at to scream at- he was rendered silent within these walls, isolation along with silence were his only resorts. He had lost his old self, grief took over his previously exuberant self. "He deserved it", he thought.

Your separation from him was his separation from himself. His memory of your was the only thing keeping him going. Every little thing you used to do reminding him of his mistakes, of what could have been. He'd underestimated your worth- he'd underestimated how irreplaceable you were.

Months passed by.

His previous priorities became second while you became number one. The only difference was that you weren't there to witness that. Wherever you were, away from him- you were happier. At least he hoped you were. His door was always open for you though, his heart too. Maybe if he'd cherished you, he wouldn't have lost you.

Despite all his lingering thoughts, he'd realized it was just "if's" now. There was no mending what he'd broken and there was no apologizing for what he did, not when you had clearly severed ties with him.

Was it illicit to hope you'd crawl back to him? That you'd beg him to take you back? It was wrong and he knew it but he couldn't help but delude in such thoughts despite knowing the only one who who'd beg for the other would be him, as of now. Though, he didn't mind begging if it meant you'd return. He knew he was being delusional- you'd never return. He knew that was the best for you, for if you did return- he wouldn't be able to let go no matter how difficult it got for you. He might've gone mad.

A decade passed by.

Years later he saw you, clinging onto another man as you pranced around at a store- one you used to speak of quite often as if urging him to take you. He never did.

As you and the unknown man walked inside the store he couldn't help but follow, silent as ever as he simply observed. He broke the moment he saw you picking a suit for the man beside you. You weren't his and maybe you never were.

He walked out of the store, his eyes stinging as he returned home. You weren't there waiting for him and no one ever would- he wouldn't replace you, not that he could. That would be another insult to your name.

He stood near the same window, on the exact spot where he watched you leave. Just like that day, it was pouring and the room was silent. He called out your name a few times, hoping you'd appear. Was he mad? Surely. Maybe he should drink again- doing so could help him hallucinate of you and if not, at least it would numb the pain.

He sighed as he sat down.

You were incomplete when with him while he was incomplete when without. You meant more than he had previously thought, so much so that it was only you he wanted to live for and with. If that was impossible, why live at all?

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: I hope Sebek wasn't too fanon/off, I just really wanted to explore a different side.

Note 3: Any unhealthy behavior depicted in this fic is not condoned nor encouraged by me. If you are facing any mental/physical abuse, please seek help immediately!

PLEASE I'M BEGGING Y'ALL, SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASE I GYATT TO WRITE BUT I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH BRAIN JUICE TO KNOW WHAT

(I'm working on a longer project right now and will announce it soon, but till then I want to write some other fics such as oneshots, headcanons etc.)

-Brownie

based on the hc that rollo is twsts version of french and rook isn’t

idek if this is accurate but in my mind that's the first thing that popped up

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEAAAAAA

STOP I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THISSSSS

WE DID IT!!!

I have reached my first goal for this blog all thanks to you guys!!! This motivates me to write more in the future!!

Thank you so much everyone!!!

"So many treats to choose from, so many more to come"

-Brownie

Maybe

Rook Hunt x Fem! Reader

TW: Implied sexual themes, implied gore, blood, injuries, stalker-ish behavior from Rook Hunt, obsessive themes, worshipping of reader. Reader is implied to be gender neutral but some parts refer to them in a more "feminine" manner.

Synopsis: Rook was not a sadist, but his actions said otherwise. Was he really to blame when your fear-stricken face was just so endearing? No, Rook was not- he could not be a sadist. At least that's what he told himself. But, was he really so horrible or was there something more to it?

Note: Read at your own risk

Rook was a lot of things but he was not a sadist, he never found pleasure in another's pain- he was not so cruel. Bullshit. Because when it came to you, even the most ghastly wound became a fine piece of art. When you came into the question, Rook took being a hunter quite seriously. After all, would he really be one, if he didn't somewhat enjoy how you writhed in pain?

It was wrong. Rook knew it was wrong yet the pleasure he felt seeing your poor, frail form, all dependent on him- it was enough for him to forget all his morals.

Maybe it was that look of despair in your eyes, or it might have been how you desperately clutched onto his shirt. The way your eyes were wet with tears, heavy breaths leaving your lips as you felt the rip in your flesh.

How could he deny helping this broken beauty? After all, Rook Hunt would never deny a damsel in distress of her knight in shining armor.

The way protests left your mind, how your arms clutched around his neck as he picked you up. He saw it all.

It was beautiful- the lack of defiance, the docility, the obedience. The usual you would make a snarky comment, tell him to "fuck off", and of course he loved that version of you too. Yet, this frail, broken you was so deliciously compliant that he couldn't help but relish in it.

Don't get it wrong, it wasn't exactly your pain that he loved- but your dependence on him. The way you had no choice but to give up and let him take care of you. Wasn't it perfect? He got to care for you and you didn't even have to worry your pretty little head. You could be at peace while he guarded your precious body, so reminiscent of a temple.

It was his dream to serve you, to take care of you, to be in your presence without the mask you put up for others. It was his dream to see the real you, and right now, he got the chance to see a glimpse of it. He had the opportunity to see how you handled pain. Upon witnessing it, he couldn't deny that he wanted to see more.

He was sickening.

The way he had access to your room, the way you trusted him in this moment- it sent the blood rushing to his face.

It felt so right to carry you, to hold you, to embrace you- so endearing you were as you wet his shirt with your warm tears.

You said nothing, only weeped. You were scared, so frightened of the monster in front of you. Yet, you had no choice but to let him in, after all, your injuries were severe and he said he knew how to treat them. And he did treat them, letting his hands wander alongside.

His eyes were locked with the purple of your bruises, so reminiscent of fresh violets. How your crimson blood stained his clothes, the scent of iron engulfing him in a frenzy.

He loved it.

It wasn't as though he was only enjoying the view, no, he would never be so cruel. Still, he relished in the sight for as long as he could before wrapping your wounds in bandages. The feeling of being able to patch you up, bring you back to shape- as one would to a marionette- made him feel as though he was your god. It was this exact devotion he craved, though it may have been a trick his mind played on him for the looks you sent him were everything but welcoming.

He observed you, how you reacted to the burn of medicine seeping into your skin, the way you winced as he caressed your bruises. It brought such a perverse smile on his flushed face.

He was addicted to it.

No, Rook wasn't a sadist but at times the hunter within him just couldn't help but relish in the sickening sight of his beloved fawn. You were beautiful in all forms, yet one of his favorites was when you left yourself in his care, so dependent on him.

He loved you no matter how broken you could be.

He knew he was disgusting, revolting even but the way you called out his name, gruelling in pain was enough to feed his delusions that you didn't mind. How he wished he had snapped a couple photos of you, or maybe even drawn portrait as you lay in bed, so meekly.

He was twisted.

No, Rook was not a sadist, he did not enjoy another's pain but if that pain belonged to you, then even even something so vile could be beautiful. That pain, suffering- it belonged to you so of course he loved it so. It might have been perverse of him, vile, or even cruel but no matter what it was, once it belonged to you it would be the most beautiful of all.

How could he not find it beautiful?

Your body was coiled up, whimpering in such a delightful manner. Your eyes were half-lidded as you wept and your crimson blood seeped through the pristine bandages he'd covered you in. No matter how he perceived you, in that moment, your pain was the most heavenly vision of all.

Nevertheless, it did torment him to see you all bruised and broken- that was why he whispered sweet nothings in your ears, words that were incoherent in the moment. That was why he cradled you in his arms as you struggled to leave- he chose to ignore that. That was why he treated you as one would a lover, his hands crossing boundaries as you fainted.

How sinful you must have felt.

No, Rook was not a sadist- but upon witnessing your agony, he felt nothing but pure bliss. No, Rook did not love this version you because of the pain you felt- he loved it because of how dependent you were on him. No, Rook wasn't cruel, he wasn't twisted either- you were just too heavenly.

Maybe Rook was a sadist.

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post and reblog! Thank you! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated!

Note 2: I love how Rook's character is a great source for dark material yet he can also be written in a more sweet manner. (I love this man with all my heart)

Note 3: Any unhealthy behavior depicted in this fic is not condoned nor encouraged by me. If you are facing any mental/physical abuse, please seek help immediately!