Certainly, I appreciate you finally coming home, Faust. Maybe next time you can not cockblock Theo’s gacha when you do? But then again…that’s very on brand for you.
This is a repost of a request! I hope you guys and the requester @ifthiswingscouldfly enjoy this ask once again.
Napoleon Bonaparte, there was not a day he could go without kissing you. In the mornings, when you’d wake up later than him, the lazy mornings are filled with slow kisses as he trailed those kisses over your neck and ears, loving the way you curled up to him as he wrapped his larger arm around you. His kisses are longing, slow, but always filled with love for you.
Isaac Newton, his kisses are not without hesitation. His usual affections consist of holding your hand, or leaning on your shoulder once he tires of his research. Isaac’s kisses… are for those moments when he truly desires you. In those moments he wishes to see no one but you, he holds your waist in one hand with another hand drawing you up to lock you in his kiss.
Arthur Conan Doyle, how he loves to kiss you to tease you. His kisses are quick, his soft lips making your skin flutter as you were held in his lap. You’d always feel the warm goosebumps as the coffee scent of Arthur began imprinting onto you, but how could you resist the gentleman when he’d always kiss your hand when he greets you? Or, in his bed, the melting kisses that simply draw you into him…
Dazai Osamu, his kisses favour towards kisses that surprise you, often kissing you before he leaves or when he arrives. The quick pecks on your nose, the breath of his whisper to the kiss on the tips of your ear, the press of his lips to the corner of your mouth… Those feelings would warm you up throughout the day, but his favourites would be the longing lip lock he gives you only in your shared bedroom.
Theodorus Van Gogh, to him, kisses are a form of reassurance. Morning kisses goodbye meant that you were wishing him well. Kisses to the tips of your fingers are promises to return to you. Kisses to your forehead are his way of telling that everything will be alright. Kisses to your neck are promises that he’ll spend the night with you. His most intimate kiss, to your ring finger, is a promise to wed you.
Vincent Van Gogh, he has the urge to kiss you every day. Not so much as a requirement from you, but a need for him. Whether it be a kiss to your forehead, a kiss to your palm or a loving kiss to your lips, it’s a need that he ever so indulges in. In those times where you allow to give him one bite, he’ll compensate you by a thousand fold in kisses instead. It’s locked in his heart, but the kiss he anticipates the most is the one he gets to share with you once you’re married.
Leonardo Da Vinci, how he’s a fan of lazy kisses. His kisses are slow, meaningful, and usually given with much care and thought. On days he’s active, he gives the quick kiss on the cheek as a farewell. However, having you in his arms, your head against his chest as you both drift off into a siesta. Just as you wake up, he bestows a very sleepy kiss as he holds you closer, perhaps for another nap session…
Jean D'Arc, his kisses are only given when he’s alone with you. He’ll do anything else to keep you close, for others to understand that he was yours whether it be holding your hand or standing next to you. How his heart flutters when he has you in his bed, and you grant him a kiss before sleeping. The most honorable of kisses to him would be when he bends the knee, your hand to his lips as he swears to be your knight forever.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, his kisses are secretive yet filled with such passion that it causes you to get dizzy at times. Even when you two are alone, he keeps his kisses for the most intimate of moments, when he’s desperate for your touch, and when he needs to confide in you. His kisses are feverish, as his kiss demands for more of you with his arms wrapped around you.
Sebastian, his kisses are quick throughout the day, as both of you are busy. Often no one notices them, but he’ll peck your forehead instead of flicking it when you do a good job. Kisses that he finds pleasure in giving are when you’re on his lap, and he has your neck tilted to pepper kisses up along your neck to your jaw, smothering you in affection when you two are alone.
Comte Saint Germain, he shamelessly loves to kiss you. In his office, he doesn’t mind whoever walks in when he has you there, loving him so passionately. He often leans to kiss the tips of your ears as a way of teasing, or kissing the edges of your wrists as a way of promising you. The kiss on your lips that leave you breathless however, is a special promise from him to give you even more throughout the night.
William Shakespeare, doesn’t typically initiate kisses. They’re sacred to him, as if you two would only be united by true love’s kiss as the story goes. He’s no stranger to physical affection, but he’d never let anyone see him kiss you. It’s his personal method of devotion, as he’s on his knees to kiss your palm before your bed, finally pressing his own lips against yours.
Vlad, his kisses signify that you’re his and he’s yours. It’s almost as a status symbol, the way he leans to press a kiss to your forehead as his one arm is by your waist. For as much as your relationship was public, he loves to sneak kisses the way he used to when he was courting you, where he’d be on the window sill to sneak a kiss, or in the garden alone, as he uses his large coat to shield you both as he locks lips with you.
Johann Georg Faust, he was a prideful man, a smug one at that. How impressive it was, to see him fall apart at your kisses, to see his arms immediately coddle you as you bestow him a kiss, standing at the ball of your foot to reach him, his large hand cradling your head to deepen the kiss. It’s an action he’d only allow with you saying you want it, he’s not one for surprise kisses for as much as you were his own precious surprise.
Charles-Henri Sanson, he’s utterly shameless with his kiss. Sometimes when Faust demands to talk to him, he’d busy himself buried in the crook of your neck, peppering butterfly kisses up and down before reaching your collarbone, further busying himself with the scent of you. All he wants is to trap you in his arms as he deepens the kiss between you two, his soft hairs tickling your cheek…
A/N:Happy birthday, Mama (@moonlit-stargazer )! Part two comes to you, which is a less happy story, hence it comes later, but it involves your beloved Bloodborne once more!
Following your lead, I have arrived in the city of Yharnam. Desolate Yharnam, hopeful Yharnam! City of the miracle cure, city of curses. The carriage wouldn’t dare to bring me further than the gate, and so I had to lug myself and my suitcase through the streets, unfamiliar and abandoned until I finally found the address to which I was to stay. To see the city makes it hard to believe that there is such a thing as a miracle cure contained within, or perhaps that’s the entire purpose of its gloomy glamour.
“This is as far as I’m willing to go, lass,” the driver had abruptly announced as he brought his carriage to a halt. “If you wish to go into Yharnam, you go alone,” the man had told you firmly, throwing out the rest of your luggage when you didn’t change your mind and destination.
“Toe of a cow!” you had bitten after him, but only after that the carriage had long been out of sight, the dark shadows swallowing the cart up into the direction from which you had come and to which you would never return. You couldn’t blame the man for turning back straight. Not with the stories that circled around about the city itself, and the ominous gates in front of which you were laid to wait. Old and stately, you could tell it was once a proud entrance, covered in vines that had long since dried out, and now covered in dust and rust from disuse and neglect.
The host that you were staying with wasn’t much better either, with the wretched sound of the rust on the iron cutting through the otherwise quiet streets.
“Why would anyone come here freely,” they had mumbled after handing you your keys and shuffling off behind another gate of their own room, the sight of it eerie and uncomfortable, but above all; uninviting.
Like the host I have no answer either. What in this city has kept you for so long? Desolate, unbecoming place, with no warmth or kindness, other than the kind illusion of a cure, which I have found to inspire much worse in all who take the medicine. Was this what kept you? The desperation to find a cure and then a cause?
Heart racing in the back of your throat you clutched your hands to your chest, almost too afraid to peek across the corner in which you could hear the panting and the gasping of the aggressor that had sprung forth from the dark. Night had fallen, the time of which your host had warned you for, but you couldn’t help yourself, too eager to start your search.
A heart wrenching screech; almost like the wail of a man slain, or a woman, you couldn’t tell, but the iron stench of blood that infiltrated the air and the terrible sound of flesh rendered into pieces were a tell-tale sign of the slaughter that happened.
“You can come out,” a gruff voice sounded, and it dared you to finally face the reality of what had infested Yharnam and the reasons why the driver hadn’t dared to go beyond the gate. The giant scythe of your saviour glistening almost black of the tainted blood of whatever creature it was that had chased you down the many twirling streets of this desolate place.
The Healing Church, the hunters of the night, the Byrgenwerth Scholars, the school of Mensis. So many parties involved and playing their part in whatever curse has befallen this place. My first night I was saved, my second night I shall fight for myself. If I can, that is. I shall have to, if I want to find you. There is no one else that will help me, or can, for after the first night I’m certain of where I can find you, and after all I learnt this past night I’m sure there will be none who will favour helping me.
The skeletal look of the wasted man was a horrifying sight, if it wasn’t for the nightmare in which this city was indulged. The startle came from your own insensitivity at facing the corpse, not at how unnatural the sight was overall. A few nights in Yharnam and already you felt your heart hardened, desensitised against all the horrors the city had to offer.
“Fool,” you had mumbled, more so to yourself than uttered at the man, decayed. He wouldn’t hear, you knew, but the cage indicated that he wasn’t gone. Not entirely.
To fall for a scholar is a painful thing. Their thirst for knowledge will forever edge out their love for you. Better is to be loved by an inventor, for they love until invention. A scholar’s love means pursuit, and in the case of my beloved that pursuit has led him far away from me.
“Fear the old blood,” the man in white had told you, a statement you could place better now. ‘Fear the old blood’ he had written to you as well. You remembered those last words he had written to you before all fell quiet. Now you understood why, what had caused the silence and what the words had meant.
The pair of glasses locked behind the cage was all indication you needed to know where he was, were all you needed to know to know where to find him.
“No, we shall not abandon the dream!”
The voice of your beloved sounded through the nightmare, deep and sure, like you had known him outside as well, but there was something wicked in there, something crazed had taken over of which you knew that this man was no longer the Faust you had once known.
[[[Please do remember that this is merely a fan translation and a combination work between my maa-maa Japanese and my nowhere-to-be-found English literacy skill, so… forgive me for all the lackness of poetic words on this translation (>.<)]]]
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God will forever snatch away
people’s life, anything, and everything
Even if you called it ‘destiny’,
Forever I will never admit it
I will change his destiny
—- even if it means to defy God Himself.
This is the beginning of the love which turns against destiny
I met you, that day, at the city church.
Although unintentionally, I’m working as a priest at this church
So, God’s protection is nowhere within you as well
A virtuous priest who serves at the church…
And yet his true self which is hidden beneath the virtue is–
You’re such a prey worth to enjoy
I’ve decided. I will include you as my guinea pig.
Being captured by you, my daily life was snatched away from me so suddenly.
And yet, when I thought of you as a cruel, heartless person–
So, you’ve awakened?
Remember that you belong to me
I won’t forgive you if you were to die easily
Surely you will never abandon me.
I don’t understand, what caused you to be like this–
But I know for sure.
About the rage and desperation from the past… dwelling inside those eyes
No matter how hard I pray, God won’t save me
If He will take away everything in the name of destiny
Until the moment I continue to fight against it
And then, I was dragged into this illogical destiny–
As I won’t accept such a determined conclusion like this
I’ll show the world that I will change his destiny
Even if it means I’m about to go against God’s will–
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