speedycoffeedelight

[speedycoffeedelight]

Warning/s: Fem!Reader, Mild language/swearing, still chaotic, Verbal bullying disguised as flirting, petty drama, reader still very much suffering (comically), Unwilling reverse harem, Reader is done with them all (not really), fire, mentions of blood

[A/n]: I have no control over these boys. I'm just her for vibes and suffering. (cuz they don't exist huehuhe) Reader deserves hazard pay <3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, >Part 4<

Day 5: Part II - Silence is Sexy Now Apparently???

Whoever answered your desperate plea for peace and quiet—thank you.

Even if they were, like, three business days late and definitely filed your request under "suffering builds character."

Because this past few hours? Felt suspiciously like divine intervention.

No stage-diva boys haunting your hallway like perfume-scented cryptids.

No "Noonaaaa!" yelled with the thunderous, bass-boosted agony of a man possessed. From Baby, of all people.

You told him to stop—said you didn't want people thinking you were older than you looked, especially not with his baby face and all that skincare witchcraft he hoards like it's sacred.

The little bastard just smirked harder, like he was saying, "Are you sure?"

You haven't known peace since your second day here. Much less now.

No Romance popping out from behind the prop shelf, dramatically clutching a scarf and declaring, "I dreamt of you last night. You were strangling me. Artistically."

It was a neck pillow. You yeeted it at his head. He thanked you.

No Abby blocking the hallway mirror to flex and ask you, completely straight-faced, "Is it villain-coded if I moisturize before world domination?"

You gave him a thumbs-up and left. He later claimed you were flirting.

No Mystery silently offering you your own coffee, only to walk away after you refused—leaving you standing there with the weird guilt of rejecting a ghost’s feelings.

You drank it anyway. It was your usual. How did he know?? You're still thinking about it.

And most importantly, no random interpretive dance ambush in the pantry while you were trying to microwave rice.

Just glorious silence and the sound of your sneakers not stepping on anyone's ego.

Which is why, for once, you were enjoying your break. Rooftop breeze in your hair, sketchbook in your lap, and the rare spiritual luxury of not being absolutely done with humanity.

Seriously. Whoever was pulling strings up there? You forgive them. They were late, but they came through.

Your only concern this morning was how many folding chairs you'd be emotionally blackmailed into hauling later. That, and whether you had enough lead in your pencil to finish this page.

You hadn't seen a single suspicious silhouette or reality-shattering jawline since clocking in.

Well, okay, fine. You did run into them earlier when you're getting for break time.

Romance had cornered you in the supply room like he was filming a music video, asking if he could "pose dramatically for your art." His eyes sparkled. Yours twitched.

Abby tried flexing casually while asking about your weekend plans, then pretended to drop something so you'd "just happen" to see his back muscles.

You did. You were mildly impressed. You told him to stop weaponizing gym memberships.

And Baby?

He just strolled over without a word and dropped into the seat beside you, one leg stretched out, the other slung over his knee like he was posing for a magazine titled Ego Issues Quarterly

He didn't even look at you at first. Just leaned back, arms draped along the chair like he’d been born lounging.

Then he said, voice low and lazy, "How much for the sketchbook?"

You didn't answer. He offered gum. You still didn't answer. He threw in a paperclip shaped like a bunny.

You almost caved. And by that, you meant throw hands.

And as all this happened, you did what you always did: stayed indifferent on the outside.

But on the inside?

You were clocking every angle. Every jawline, every shadow, every stupid strand of unfair hair volume. Half of you was annoyed; the other half was already tagging their bone structures under "good reference" in your brain's internal Pinterest.

You weren't immune. Just busy.

But amidst the usual dumb banter and war for your attention, one thing stuck out: Jinu.

He didn't flirt. He didn't joke. He barely looked at you ever since you step foot in the building.

You noticed it in passing—how quiet he was. A little more serious than usual. Like something had lodged itself in his brain and refused to vacate the premises. Definitely not just brooding-for-aesthetic. Actual thoughts.

Suspicious.

And maybe it was your artist brain short-circuiting from too many Pinterest boards, but the tension in his shoulders? The way his jaw kept ticking like it was chewing on unfinished dialogue?

Yeah. If he were a drawing, you'd label him "Haunted by Plot Twist, page 37."

You should've been concerned. You really should've.

But nah. Not your business. You had background extras to sketch, rent to pay, and three missing pen nibs to mourn.

Which brings us back to now.

You were so blissfully content, maybe even giggled to yourself once or twice like a tiny menace in a hoodie, that you didn't notice the bench shift beside you.

You blinked, mid-sketch, and looked up.

Oh. It was him. Mystery.

You paused. Blinked again. Yeah, not a hallucination.

Sometimes, he freaked you out a little. Not in the horror-movie way. Just... he was so quiet. Too quiet. Like his stage name wasn't just branding but a literal warning.

Mystery had a habit of showing up without sound, appearing like a cursed Pokémon spawn next to you, behind you, in your personal bubble.

Still, all things considered? He was the least annoying of the lot. Not to mention, you did admit to yourself you found him cute.

He didn't throw flirty one-liners at you like he was auditioning for the role of 'sexy second lead,' and he hadn't tried to yoink your sketchbook like it was the last horcrux. That earned him points.

So you let him sit. Whatever. It was a big rooftop.

You returned to your sketching, lazily doodling the closest prop in sight.

You had, like, five minutes left of freedom before someone inevitably called you to haul folding chairs, fix someone's wig, or hand-sew a button back onto a backup jacket.

You sighed just thinking about it. And then you felt it, the weight against your side.

You froze. Your eyes slid sideways.

Mystery had leaned in. Not dramatically, not like a collapsing tree, just... rested his shoulder against yours. Hair over his face as always, head dipped slightly.

You squinted at him.

Then, as if he might leap into action at any second, you closed your sketchbook. Slowly. Suspiciously. (Always be cautious!)

He didn't move.

"...Are you not feeling well?" You asked.

Mystery shook his head. Barely. Just enough for you to notice. Still, he didn't say anything else.

You glanced around like you were in a spy thriller. Was this a distraction? Were the others planning an ambush while he played decoy? You wouldn't put it past them.

You were starting to suspect you'd become their favorite form of enrichment. Like a stress ball. Or an emotional support disaster muppet.

But nothing. The rooftop stayed quiet. No one popped out with dramatic finger hearts or badly disguised attempts at small talk.

Maybe... maybe they were actually busy. Maybe someone finally got them to rehearse so hard they collapsed on the floor.

But this dude still had the energy to climb all the way up here? Then never mind.

You just hoped they stayed busy. That Mystery showing up here was his own decision not something cooked up by Jinu, mister I-have-a-switch, or the rest of his chaos committee.

You turned back toward Mystery, trying to play it cool.

Not to be weird or anything, but his cologne smelled... nice. Soft. Like citrus and something expensive. It didn't attack your nose like some of the cologne samples you once tried at the mall that nearly caused a coma.

His hair looked soft, too. A little fluffy. It reminded you of one of your grandparents' pets which was the sleepy little dog they had. It used to curl up beside you and doze off while you drew.

Was that what Mystery was doing? Were you warmth? A heating pad?

...Was he asleep?

You squinted again. No answer. You huffed and picked up your pencil. If you couldn't figure him out, you might as well draw through it.

Doodles. Hands. Some profile from memory. A chaotic blob that could become something. Anything to keep your hands busy and your eyes off the mystery boy literally named Mystery.

You didn't notice the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed. Break was over.

You stared down at the screen like it had betrayed you. Back to the world. Back to chaos. Back to sanity erosion.

But for now, for just a moment longer, you stayed seated. And beside you, Mystery didn't move either

Without speaking, or even needing to tell him to sit up, you saw Mystery already shifting, straightening just slightly as if he'd read your mind.

Okay...that's nice. Creepy. But nice.

You stood with a quiet sigh, brushing off your hoodie like it had personally offended you, sketchbook tucked under your arm like a child you were protecting from the world's sins.

"Later." You bid him casually with a little nod.

Mystery didn't answer. He rarely did. Sometimes he talked. Sometimes he didn't. You were starting to think he had a secret dice roll for social interaction.

And you didn't expect him to still be watching.

Didn't expect him to stay exactly where you left him, still leaning slightly, still barely moving, like one of those statues in horror games that only move when you look away.

For some reason, even with all that hair obscuring half his face, you imagined his eyes trailing after you like a dog watching its human leave for work. All soulful gaze and tragic resignation.

Like if you turned around, he might paw at the air and whine.

But you didn't linger, just pushed the rooftop door open then stopped. You blinked—because there, in the corner of your vision, saw a flash of pink. Not pastel. Not sky. Something unnatural.

A glitch or something. A smoke trail. Like someone mid-teleport in a fantasy game with their settings on 'extra dramatic.'

You stared one half-second longer than any sane person would, nodded like "cool, love that for us," and walked off. You had chairs to carry. Wigs to adjust. A paycheck to clutch like a rosary.

Let someone else deal with the possible interdimensional chaos cloud.

Behind you, Mystery finally sat up straight. His eyes never left the spot where you'd vanished through the door.

And that's when the others appeared with a flash of pink.

"Yo." Abby's voice cut through the rooftop air like a slap. He looked at Mystery, brow twitching. "Was that... you leaning on her? Or are the stage lights finally frying my retinas?"

Romance turned, jaw already dropped. "She let you sit next to her?" Then as if he came upon a realization, he added, "I mean— you got contact?"

He blinked, stunned. No way. You always swatted them off with a scowl. You pulled away like they were leaking radioactivity anytime they got too close.

But now Mystery got a seat? A whole moment?

What the hell.

The said person—demon didn't answer. He didn't have to. The silence was louder than anything he could've said.

Baby scoffed, arms folded tight. "Did you at least look at what she was doing?"

He told himself it was about the sketchbook. About the mission, but it wasn't. Not really.

No reply.

Romance tilted his head, his tone laced with mockery. "What—did you fall for that human or something?"

"A possible enemy." Abby muttered with syrupy venom. "Aww. That's adorable. What next? Gonna write her name in your demon diary?"

"Or give her your soul in a glittery envelope?" Baby flatly said with squinted eyes. "Just say you're in love with the enemy already."

He hadn't meant for it to land like that. Not really. But Mystery's hand twitched at his side, still silent.

Baby glanced away first with a little scoff.

"Maybe that's his plan now." Jinu's voice cut in, low and clipped. "Stay quiet. Earn her trust. Let her think he's harmless, just some weird, hoodie-wearing loner. Then when her guard's down, she gives him the sketchbook... or shows him what's inside."

His arms crossed tighter. "Wouldn't have to ask. Wouldn't have to flirt. Just sit there and wait until she spills like he's special."

Jinu paused for a brief second.

"Smart." He added. But it didn't sound like a compliment. More like a warning. Or maybe a grudge dressed up as logic.

They all turned to Mystery. He stared back—calm, and unreadable, like none of their noise registered. Not compared to whatever was playing in his head.

He blinked once then spoke, quiet enough to be lost in the wind. "She moves when I look. I don't want her to move."

It landed like a spell. Sudden. Off-key. Too soft to handle.

For a second, no one spoke.

Abby froze. No blink. No quip. Just stared like his system had crashed mid-update.

Romance let out a breath, hand on his chest like he'd been hit. No teasing now, just narrowed eyes and something twisted in his gut.

"That line had flavor." He muttered. "Did it taste like yearning?"

He tried to laugh, but it fell flat. Because he remembered your expression—your bored scowl, your insult about glitter, the way you spun that foam trident like you'd trained for it.

He was supposed to be the charming one. The safe bet. But you hadn't even twitched.

He'll probably start genuinely sulking, and that would just be humiliating.

Now Mystery, who barely talks, gets to sit next to you? Yeah. That stung. (Bruised something which certainly wasn't just his ego).

Baby blinked, disbelief cracking through his usual smirk. He expected poetry from Romance. Absurdity from Abby. But Mystery?

"That was a rom-com lead moment." Baby narrowed his eyes. "I'm gonna be sick." Then, under his breath, "Mystery spoke and now the universe tilts."

He turned to Jinu, petty and itching. "Better switch up your shampoo, golden boy. Whatever you're using clearly stopped working."

It was a cheap shot. He didn't care. The feelings stirring in his chest weren't clean—so he'd call it strategy. Frustration. Anything but jealousy.

None of them had gotten that far.

Not Abby's showboating. Not Romance's smooth talk. Not Jinu's sudden fake kindness. Not even him with his cuteness.

And Mystery? Said one line and got further than any of them.

Unacceptable.

Abby huffed beside him, arms crossed in mirror defense. No words. Just a silent, sulky pout that made his fitted shirt feel too tight all of a sudden.

Jinu didn't react, he didn't flinch. Just stood still, jaw tight. Eyes unreadable. But inside? Yeah. He felt the burn.

He was the first. The one who let you in. Let you photograph them, bark orders, roll your eyes without consequence. You didn't swoon. Didn't care. Just worked.

He'd called it strategy. Keep you close. Watch you. (They know where you live).

But somewhere between your eye rolls and offhand insults, something else had crept in. Something not in the plan. Not strategy.

Now, seeing you sit still for Mystery—letting him close?

Jinu exhaled through his nose, soft and low.

"Hopeless." He muttered, gaze distant. He didn't know if he meant Mystery, who was clearly done playing spy, or himself, for ever thinking he could separate observation from obsession.

He exhaled through his nose. "Scratch him off. He’s not getting that sketchbook."

"Good." Baby said, a little too fast. His voice cut through the air, crisp and cool. "Less mouths. Maybe I'll actually get close enough next time without being called a stray cat."

Romance grinned, the mischief in his eyes impossible to miss. "You're still upset she called you a stray, huh? What was it? Something about turf wars with raccoons behind a 7-Eleven?"

Baby's scowl deepened like he was reliving it in real-time. He turned to Romance with a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "She called you glitter vomit, Romance." He snapped. "So unless you wanna be part of the clean-up crew, shut it."

Romance's grin twitched. Just slightly. Like it was painted on, cracking at the edges.

"At least I sparkle when I'm insulted." He said through clenched teeth, voice still sugarcoated but sharp. "You hiss and knock over boxes like a third-tier saja who got rejected from charm school. I'd say it's embarrassing, but you made it an art."

Baby didn't blink. "Yeah?" He said, voice low. "Keep talking, sparkle guts. Maybe she'll pity you enough to sweep you off the floor."

They stared at each other, tension crackling, the air thick with the kind of petty animosity that only two beautiful people with bruised egos could manage.

Abby chuckled, but there was no heat behind it. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly ignoring the demon catfight behind him. "Still... maybe I should try the quiet and tragic approach. Think that's her type?"

Baby and Romance turned to look at him, their showdown paused—forgotten, maybe.

"Oh sure." Baby rolled his eyes. "Let me just uninstall my entire personality and start brooding in a corner."

"Maybe it'd work." Romance said, quieter now. His gaze flicked toward Mystery, then back to where you'd been. "She looked at him like he wasn't annoying unlike the rest of us."

Jinu watched his members bicker and spiral into their own egos like it was a full-time job.

Baby and Romance were still glaring at each other like petty rivals in a perfume ad. Abby looked like he was preparing for a tragic boyband concept era.

And Mystery? Mystery was just... staring into space like he was composing poetry in Morse code.

It was exhausting.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do you all function." he muttered under his breath.

Considering he was the one who put this group together, Jinu really did understand what he was putting you through.

The difference was you didn't show it.

You just rolled your eyes, insulted their hair, dropped art references they barely understood, and carried on like they weren't literal demons sent to take your souls.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against his arm. Fine. No more improvisation. No more solo disasters that ended in sulking, musical tantrums, or poetic self-sabotage.

And Jinu? He didn't look up. Just stared at the rooftop floor like it might cough up the answer. Like maybe if he glared long enough, the plan would fix itself.

This was getting out of hand.

When Jinu spoke, his voice was cold, clipped, but beneath that chill was something else. Tight and controlled, like if he let it slip even a little, the wrong truth might come out.

"Nothing changes." He turns around. "We get that sketchbook."

His eyes didn't waver. Focused and empty all at once, like he was looking straight through the moment—past them, past the plan, past himself.

The others turned, expression unreadable.

"Today." He added, this time sharper. "Settle it once and for all. No more delays. No more distractions."

Then, noticing a few people nearby, other interns passing through, a couple of techies on break, Jinu didn’t say anything else. He just walked off, quiet and brisk, the echo of his footsteps trailing behind like punctuation.

The silence he left was sharp.

Abby exhaled first. "It's just curiosity." He muttered, too fast—like it was supposed to explain everything. "She's weird. All that slang. Anime and internet soup or whatever."

"Yeah." Baby agreed, more casual but still frowning. "Seriously. What kind of human’s that unaffected? Even with my absolute cuteness."

Romance didn't say anything else. He just sighed. There he goes again with his face. (Says the guy who also admires himself in the mirror).

No one said what they were really thinking, and that made the silence stretch. No one moved or agreed to what Jinu said even if he was long gone.

But no one argued either.

And maybe that was answer enough.

-

You didn't notice the rooftop stares.

You were halfway across the lot now, a cardboard box in your arms and a pen behind your ear, chatting with one of the stage techs as you both walked.

Something about costume returns. Or lost props. Or a mannequin that got decapitated again. The usual.

The sun was high. Your feet ached. Your back was one bend away from cracking like bubble wrap.

But you still considered this peace. You could almost believe it was permanent but the last you believed that, they appear—

Your coworker flinched and hissed, "Kkamjjagiya!" (you surprised me) like they'd just seen a ghost.

You didn't have to turn around to know what caused it. The air got ten percent warmer and one hundred percent more unbearable.

Of course. Of course they were back after a few hours.

The Saja Boys stepped in one by one, doing That Thing™ they did. The posture shift. The twinkle in the eyes. The half-smiles like they knew they were dreams personified.

Romance was first, holding a clipboard like it was a bouquet. "Need a hand, sweetheart? Or two? Maybe three?"

You glared. He winked. Then his stupid ass tripped, but you could tell it was on purpose, obviously, because he fell right toward your sketchbook.

His fingers just grazed the cover before you slammed your clipboard down on his wrist.

"Ow." He said with a small hiss, rubbing his arm before flashing a grin like he''d been personally blessed by the pain. "Still feisty... and I still very much like it."

You looked at him like you had just judged his entire bloodline, and found all of them guilty.

"You're about to like ice packs too."

Romance chuckled, unfazed. "I accept my fate. But just so you know, bruises make great conversation starters."

He winked. "Want me to autograph the one you're about to give me?"

You blinked once. Then blinked again.

Then, very slowly, you lifted your sketchbook like you were contemplating smacking him with it, not out of rage, but sheer exhausted disbelief.

"...You want a pen to sign your medical bill too?"

Romance grinned wider. "Only if you draw on it first."

You groaned, already regretting every life decision that led you here.

Baby was next.

This gives you déjà vu from last night.

He popped up beside you like a clingy phantom and held up a crayon drawing of you riding a dragon, trying to use that face of his to his advantage, again.

"Fan art." He announced, grinning like he was unveiling a masterpiece. "From me. Artist to artist. Let's swap. Yours for mine?"

You blinked, brow rising. They're coming at you again, specifically your sketchbook.

"Did you just draw me stabbing Jinu?" You asked, trying your absolute best to keep your face blank because if you cracked now, even a twitch, you knew you'd never hear the end of it.

He'd say his drawing got you. That he got you.

Baby leaned in, clearly fishing for proof. "Maybe." He said, grinning like a devil. "But you're not denying it's good."

You held his gaze, lips twitching—just once.

Unfortunately for you, he saw it. And he lit up like a kid who'd just been handed a trophy for 'Most Annoying and Proud.'

"Aww, was that a smile?" He cooed, smugness practically oozing as he tilted his head. "It was. Don't lie."

You frowned, still holding the crayon drawing like it personally offended your degree. "No, it wasn't."

"Sure it was." He leaned in like he was about to stage whisper a secret. "Mystery said you smiled too. Now I got one. We're tied. Kinda makes us rivals, don't you think?"

You raised a brow again then stared at him flatly. "I'm getting security."

"You're getting sentimental." He shot back, still grinning. Then, quieter, just for extra effect: "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me, Sunshine."

You stopped mid-step then slowly turned, and stared at him like he'd just kicked a puppy and asked for applause.

Baby only beamed brighter, hands in his pockets like he hadn't just committed a social felony. Like he was proud of it.

He rocked back on his heels, smug as hell. "See? That face. You like me."

Haha. You wanna throw a chair at him.

Next was Abby.

He was already halfway through picking up a fallen roll of duct tape, like he'd just happened to be nearby and oh-so-conveniently useful.

His posture was casual, like this was a normal day and not a full-blown five-man flirt ambush.

He straightened, smiled, and held out the tape like an offering.

"You look stressed, babe." He said smoothly. "I can carry the box. And the sketchbook. And you, if needed."

You stared at him, deadpan. "You can carry yourself to the other side of the room."

He grinned. Unbothered. Then, because he was Abby, flexed just a bit like the room was his gym and the moment demanded it.

You blinked. "Was that necessary?"

"Everything I do is necessary." He said it like a motto. Like his muscles were a public service.

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

Then, finally, inevitably, you smiled. Not a happy smile. Not even close. It was that exhausted, resigned, "Of course you said that" kind of smile. The kind you give your group project partner right before they say, "Trust me."

You don't bother to waste your energy on pushing him away. "...Help me tape the costume rack, you walking protein shake."

He beamed. "Gladly. Want me to flex while I do it?"

Your smile stayed, brittle and doomed. You didn't answer. Just turned away and sighed like someone whose will to resist was slowly being bench-pressed out of existence.

He still followed, tape in hand and biceps fully committed to the bit.

Jinu, who was leaning against the nearest wall with his arms crossed, watched it all unfold like a smug director of a very stupid play.

He didn't speak at first. Just stood there, all moody elegance and judgment, like he hadn’t tripped over a stack of crates last night and almost died from it. (yeah, you're exaggerating)

Huh. So mister switch-flip was back to his usual self—the smug, mildly infuriating version— if he was here now, watching you like he hadn't spent the last few hours pretending you didn't exist.

Maybe he got over whatever brooding anime arc he was stuck in. Or maybe his pride finally regenerated enough to rejoin the land of the socially functioning.

Either way, great. The cryptid council was back at full force.

"You know," Jinu poke, voice casual but eyes sharp, "for someone who draws so much, you never show anyone what you're proud of. Makes you look like you're hiding something."

You raised a brow. "I am. My patience."

A corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a laugh. Nor quite a challenge. "Maybe you're just shy. Or maybe it's something else."

"Gaslighting won't get you what you want, Jinu."

He took another step, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You sure?"

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "I've met tax collectors with more charm."

That made him laugh. It wasn't loud, but real. "So you admit I've got some charm."

You tilt your head slightly and looked at him dead in the eye. "Barely."

For some reason, you found him extra irritating today. Not because he'd gone distant. Not because his silence had bothered you more than it should have. He was just... irritating. That was all.

Totally unrelated to how he acted this morning.

With that, the standoff lingered like static in the air.

And somewhere behind you, Abby muttered under his breath, "...Why is this kinda hot?"

Baby immediately turned to glare at him. "You're not helping."

It had been fifteen minutes since you last saw those try-hards. Five full minutes of blessed silence. No flirtatious quips. No ambushes. No bizarre "fan art trades."

But the peace only made you more suspicious.

What was with them today? They weren't just being annoying, they were focused. Like there was a mission. Like they were actually determined to get a look inside your sketchbook.

What suddenly lit a fire under all of them?

And then, without warning—

Mystery was there.

Not in a flashy poof of smoke or with a dramatic line. Just... there. Sitting silently at your usual corner, already pulling a chair out beside him like he expected you to follow.

You paused, internally finding that action adorable.

Of course, Mystery didn't speak. He never started the conversation. He just hovered—close, unnervingly so, and waited like your orbit naturally included him.

Still, when you sat to sort through prop lists, he followed suit. Close enough that you could feel his presence, but far enough that it might be called respectful. Technically.

"You're not subtle." You muttered without looking up, pen scratching against paper like it was your only lifeline to sanity.

Mystery tilted his head in response. Just a fraction. Enough to acknowledge, but not enough to explain.

You sighed, flipping the page in your folder with just a little more aggression than necessary.

"Don't try to out-quiet me." You warned, eyes still fixed on your checklist. "It won't work. I invented deadpan silence. I thrive in it."

He didn't blink or moved, just continued to exist there: quiet, patient, unsettlingly still. Like a ghost who had no intention of leaving.

Like he'd wait all day if he had to.

You hummed lightly then turned your head slightly. You opened your sketchbook just a crack, just to glance at a reference. And like clockwork. there it was. A hand.

Creeping from the edge of your vision like a crab.

"Back off." You said without missing a beat, slapping the sketchbook shut.

"Rude." Baby muttered from behind a nearby column. "I was gentle that time."

You raised your eyes. Across the room—yes, they were all there. Sigh.

Romance, leaned against a mirror like he was waiting for a slow-mo spin. Abby pretending to fix a light fixture, flexing subtly. Jinu at the back, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his mouth like he was enjoying a live telenovela.

Losers. Every last one of them.

Mystery, on the other hand, didn't flinch. Just leaned in a little more. Like the rest of the chaos didn't exist. Like he was the only one in the room who understood that silence could be a kind of closeness too.

You side-eyed him. "You do realize they're all watching, right?"

Mystery, being him, didn't say anything at first.

Then, without moving his head, he said—quietly, just enough for you to hear, "Let them."

. . .

You coughed. Violently.

Not because you were choking. But because—what the hell was that?

Who gave him permission to drop a line like that? Soft, unwavering, lowkey romantic like he'd just stepped out of one of those late-night dramas you pretended not to watch but absolutely binged at 2 a.m.

You stared harder at your checklist like it was responsible for your sudden internal meltdown. No. Nope. You were not affected.

You were perfectly normal. Mentally stable. Immune to cryptic, poetic boys with sleepy voices and stupidly good hair.

You coughed again just to be safe. And to smother the tiny part of your brain that was currently kicking its feet and giggling like a schoolgirl.

It wasn't like the others' lines, the ones that almost worked or just made you cringe. This one hit different. Probably because you didn't expect it from him.

From across the room, several heads snapped in sync.

"???"

"Is she choking on air or dying?" Abby asked, eyebrows raised and genuinely confused.

"Wait—hold on. That was flirting, wasn't it?" Baby said, scowling. "Oh, so he gets bonus points for whispering cryptic nonsense, but when I bring bunny-shaped paperclips, I'm 'too much'? Unreal."

"She coughed like she just got hit with a K-drama line." Romance muttered, stunned. "What the hell did he say?"

Baby and Abby exchanged a look before shrugging.

Then Romance placed a hand over his chest, as if physically struck, and took a staggered breath. "Wait—no. Don't tell me. I'll spiral."

Then, snapping back with a bitter edge: "What, did he whisper poetry? A tragic backstory? I swear, if it worked—" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm deleting my entire personality."

Jinu gave Romance a long, unimpressed look. Then shook his head once—slow, like even he couldn't believe this was the conversation happening.

Without another word, he turned his gaze back to where you and Mystery sat, eyes narrowing like squinting hard enough might reveal the secrets of the universe.

Or at least, whatever the hell Mystery just whispered that made you cough like a lovesick drama lead.

His jaw ticked and his expression didn't change. But damn, was he staring hard.

"Whatever he said, I could've said it better—with more charisma and less blinking." Abby muttered, then added with a scoff, "If dead silence and vague stares are the new sexy, I've clearly been overperforming."

Romance folded his arms, bitter. "Don't. You'd combust."

Jinu said nothing. Still leaning against the wall like he had been for the past ten minutes, but now his eyes were colder.

Something in him ticked, like he was deciding whether to be impressed... or set someone on fire.

Then Mystery moved again, barely. His hand hovered near your sketchbook, one finger tapping the corner. Not taking. Just gesturing.

You glanced at him then sighed. You hand him a blank sticky note from your stack. It was a cute design.

He took it. Carefully. A tiny twitch of amusement crossed his face like a breeze over water—barely there, but real.

Baby watched, his eyes wide for a second then blank next. "She gave him stationery. That's it. I'm buying glitter pens."

"She gives him the cute stuff. I break my back carrying things and all I get is scoliosis." Abby deadpanned.

Romance groaned, covering his face. "This is it. This is my villain origin story. I'm dyeing my hair black and starting a solo."

Jinu still didn't speak. But when he did, his voice was sharp, low, and precise, like the clean pull of a trigger. No room for argument. No room for delay.

"We're getting that sketchbook. By sundown."

Bold words from Jinu. The kind you'd expect to trigger some epic music or a final boss cutscene.

Instead, the rest of the day passed in a blur of nonsense.

You dodged at least seven ambushes, blocked two fake "accidental" trips (looking at Baby), and barely survived a very dramatic confession from Romance that involved a bouquet made out of receipt paper.

Mystery just kept appearing at your side like a ghost with feelings. Abby tried to carry you again.

You were too tired to keep fighting them off. Too drained to question whatever demon pact they'd clearly made to break you down.

By the time you finally locked your sketchbook in your bag and dragged yourself home, your body was aching, your patience was threadbare, and your suspicion was officially at Defcon 1.

Something was off. You could feel it.

You didn't remember falling asleep, just the weight of exhaustion and the quiet hum of your apartment floor. It was normally peaceful here.

You even liked your neighbors. The college student who always microwaved noodles at 2AM, the elderly couple across the hall, the quiet guy with too many plants.

So when the screaming started, it didn't register at first.

The scream came again, sharper this time. Closer. Then the crack of glass. A choking smell. Smoke curling under your door.

You were on your feet in seconds.

The air had already changed, thick and sharp. Your eyes burned before you even opened the closet. You didn't remember moving, just grabbing your bag, your sketchbook, your phone—

You hissed as your hand hit the doorknob.

"...Fuck."

The door wouldn't budge.

The metal handle scorched your palm, and you jerked back with a hiss. Too hot. Too sealed. The smoke was rising fast now—choking, thick, clawing at your lungs like it had teeth.

You stumbled back, coughing hard, vision blurred as the room twisted in heat. You turned to grab your bag, the one thing you had to save, and as you slung it over your shoulder, your arm grazed the corner of the overturned desk.

A flash of pain. Sharp. You looked down and saw the crimson line blooming across your forearm, thin but angry, already staining the sleeve of your shirt. Glass, maybe. Or metal. You didn't know.

Your heart was a drumbeat in your ears. Loud. Wild.

You pressed your good hand over the cut, staggering toward the window. But the smoke was thicker now, a suffocating wall of grey, and each breath clawed deeper than the last.

Your knees buckled.

Just as your vision began to flicker, there was a sound—a crack like thunder and the crash of splintering wood. The door burst open.

Smoke billowed out into the hallway like a living thing, and through it stepped a figure—tall, fast, steady.

Your body didn't register the face. It didn't need to.

Because all you saw was the golden glow of his eyes. They were unmoving. Fierce. Anchored.

...Like sunlight piercing the storm.

You tried to say something, his name? A joke? anything, but your throat burned, and the room tilted sideways. The last thing you felt was the warmth of strong arms catching you.

And then darkness, but it wasn't lonely.

Because before the light slipped away completely, you remembered one thing: That beautiful, impossible glow. Golden. Bright.

And safe.

[speedycoffeedelight]

all we are is bullets

summary: the city knows him as phainon, but you know him as khaslana. -> now playing: "demolition lovers" by my chemical romance

words: 2.4k cw: slightly suggestive but no explicit nsfw notes: vaguely dystopian/cyberpunk au a/n: i'm sorry in advance </3

the city knows him as phainon.

phainon, the deliverer, a chrysos heir, one of okhema’s great heroes who saved the capital city and nation at large from the subjugation of a corrupt organization that had already targeted other nations, like the xianzhou luofu. 

the chrysos heirs had led the rebellion against the lord ravagers, an international crime group that had attempted to infiltrate amphoreus and implement a shadow government. lygus and his division had nearly succeeded, but somehow, the heirs had managed to create internal strife, and without a unified front, lygus’s plan failed and the ravagers were chased out of amphoreus— at least, those that evaded persecution were.

though all of the heirs are revered and praised for the sacrifices they made during the uprising, phainon and cyrene in particular were made the faces of it as the ones who brought it to an end. at that point, all the other heirs had been detained, so the two of them had shouldered the brunt of the work at the tail-end of the struggle— cyrene from the shadows and phainon in the spotlight, as the two had always been. 

now, just a little over a year since the dust settled, okhema is rebuilding— figuratively and literally. the operation that phainon had orchestrated involved bombing multiple of lygus’s bases after civilians had been relocated, and some major infrastructure needed to be rebuilt. additionally, CEOs and government officials that had been affiliated with lygus needed to be replaced, a process which was tedious and couldn’t be resolved as simply as the damaged parts of town could be. aglaea and anaxagoras had been at the helm of amphoreus’s temporary governing body for the time being, as some of the only unanimously trusted figures in the nation.

despite the threat having been vanquished, the heirs were more than happy to continue aiding and protecting the nation, no one moreso than phainon, the city’s knight in shining armor. 

the city knows him as phainon, but you know him as khaslana.

he’d shown up years before the other heirs were aware that amphoreus’s sudden string of tragedies were being caused by the ravagers— right on lygus’s doorstep. 

or yours, to be more accurate.

you were a runner for the ravagers, born into a life of crime thanks to your parents who had sold their souls long ago. some pitied you, but you were indifferent— you didn’t know any different than this life.

it’d been a lax day at the base the night he showed up. you collected some cash from some big mogul earlier that day and dropped it off to one of lygus’s lackeys before heading back to sit on your ass all day and be on standby. your boss and the other henchmen of the base were sat around a table playing poker when there was a knock at the door.

around the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, your boss had nodded in the direction of the door. “get that, yeah?”

you set your phone to the side and got to your feet, arming yourself with a high-voltage gun tucked behind your back as you cracked the door open.

the deliverer stood on the other side. 

through the sliver of the cracked door, you made out the guards stationed outside the base lying on the ground, unconscious.

you took the safety off the gun.

“elysiae’s golden boy,” you’d drawled, loud enough to immediately send the people behind you leaping into action. “to what do we owe the honor?”

he’d grinned at you, a thousand-watt smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“i’m here on official business,” he’d said pleasantly, as if you two were merely discussing the weather. “may i speak to lygus?”

he was quite possibly the only person in all of amphoreus that could show up to a ravager base, demand to speak to a lord, and get away with it— after all, he had.

over the next few years, khaslana had begun sowing the seeds necessary to ensure that lygus’s amphoreus operation would implode before it saw success. of course, lygus was aware that the young man had ulterior motives, but he was so fixated on wearing khaslana down into a true ravager and turning him into a lord that he decided to play along with his little game anyway.

ultimately, lygus had failed, but at a great personal cost to khaslana. the public didn’t notice it, but those close to him— the other heirs— had noticed the way his brightness withered away, the way the days, weeks, months and years spent masquerading as a ravager, as the flame reaver, and carrying out unspeakable acts in the name of gaining lygus’s trust and amassing power and status within the ravagers changed him. destroyed him.

you had noticed; after all, you had a front row seat to his demise.

it’d been nothing more than just an innocent fling at first, meant to be nothing more than a one-night stand. you were just a means to blow off some steam after a particularly rough mission, and he was just a pretty face and nice body. there was nothing emotional about it.

but then one night turned into two, into three, into fifteen before you ended up losing count altogether. fifteen, the last number you remember because it was your fifteenth time in bed with him when he’d broken down on you. 

in the aftermath, at some point, he’d started quietly weeping to himself. his back was turned to you, but in the dim lighting you could make out the way his broad shoulders shook, and feel the way the bed lightly trembled with the force of his sobs.

you weren’t a stranger to gentleness— in the dark corners of rooms, away from prying eyes, your mother had shown you it as a child before she’d been shot on a mission. it wasn’t something that came easy to you given the lack of expressing and receiving it in your adolescence, but it was buried somewhere deep, resurfacing for this man who had the will to withstand the sacrifices demanded of one’s personhood when running with the ravagers, but not the heart.

you’d gently pressed a hand to his bare back, and he’d stilled beneath it.

you hesitated— it felt cruel to call him khaslana at a time like this.

“phainon?” you’d called out, your voice softer than you’d ever heard it be in your entire life.

you’d held him. you pulled his head into your lap and held him as he wept, saying nothing and just running your fingers through his hair as he did.

you lost count after the fifteenth time because it stopped being soulless after that. you’d stopped being just a body— now, you were a comfort.

somewhere between seven and nine months after that night, you weren’t quite sure, you’d woken up before him for a change. dressed in nothing but his shirt and your underwear, you perched yourself on the windowsill of your bedroom, sipping on a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

he’d woken up some minutes ago— you could feel his stare on you even though your back was turned to him.

“why don’t you report me to lygus?”

it hadn’t been a question you were expecting.

“you’re not as dense as you make yourself out to be,” you responded easily. “you know as well as i do that lygus is aware you’re trying to take us down from the inside. why would i need to bother him with information he already has?”

“he doesn’t have proof,” khaslana had said. his voice sounded closer now, and you turned to meet his eyes. they were prettier than usual as they gleamed beneath the rays of sunlight that filtered in through the window. “you do.”

you looked back outside at the sprawling city beneath your apartment. “i don’t care whether or not lygus succeeds.”

khaslana settled down into the space beside you on the windowsill. “he doesn’t have your loyalty?”

“i’m not a ravager by choice,” you said, “i was just born one.”

he’d laughed lightly, but you caught the edge in it. “no fealty for your blood? that’s not the amphoreus way.”

you hummed, setting your cup and getting to your feet. throwing a look over your shoulder, you answered, “perhaps elysiae and okhema have been kinder to you than this place has been to me.”

he killed lygus with his bare hands nearly a year later.

you’d spent your last night with him not knowing that that’s what it would be. certainly he did, but he hadn’t said anything. maybe he wasn’t good at saying goodbye.

maybe you just didn’t mean as much to him as you thought you did.

the rebels ransacked your base last— perhaps, a final act of mercy, khaslana allowing you enough time to escape and evade arrest, and worse, possible execution. as a mere grunt, it was easy to slip off to some other shady part of amphoreus and find other underhanded means of making a living. you didn’t have much of a moral compass growing up, and you weren’t about to start having one now. 

it’s been nearly a year and a half since you’ve seen him. you do your best not to think about him, but that’s difficult to do when his face and legacy are plastered all over amphoreus and he’s the only memory of gentleness you have besides the woman who raised you.

you’re slogging through another shift at a bar in okhema’s red light district, a handful of streets tucked away by the slums that manage to just barely fly under the heirs’ radar now that they have their hands full with rebuilding efforts. you’re wiping down a table and entertaining conversation with a boisterous group in hopes of getting a larger tip when the bar owner stumbles onto the floor, clearly thrown.

he rushes up to you, sweating bullets, and demands, “need you in the back, now.”

brows furrowing in confusion, you watch as he flags down another waiter at the same time he begins ushering you toward the back. you drop the wet rag onto the table and flash the group a sweet smile, saying, “i’ll be back in just a minute, but they’ll take care of you in the meantime.”

you follow the owner into the back. just as he’s about to storm into his office, you ask, “the hell’s going on?”

the door flies open. khaslana— no, phainon— stands on the other side of it.

your voice withers out and dies somewhere in your throat. you feel rooted to the tile beneath your feet as his gaze rakes over you and lingers in places, leaving you feeling more exposed than waking up barren next to him had.

the owner, to your chagrin, shoves you inside the office with nothing but a rough “handle it” before slamming the door shut, trapping you inside with him.

when phainon meets your eyes, a strange fury bubbles up and bursts within you. maybe he can tell, the way his eyes soften when your gazes meet. 

you keep your tone neutral, feigning indifference. “what are you doing here?”

he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you. you hug your arms to your sides and fold into yourself. in lieu of an answer, he says, “you made it out.”

“i did,” you confirm. “if that’s all, you can go now.”

he laughs— that same laugh, soft and fluttery but undercut with some abrasiveness. “am i not welcome here?”

you make a show of giving him a once-over. “this is no place for okhema’s savior,” you say slowly, watching each word sink into him and weigh him down. “you should leave before you’re spotted.”

there’s something wry about his smile when he says, “i’m not as soft as i look.”

“maybe not,” you agree. “but this is still not somewhere a chrysos heir belongs.”

his face tightens, and oh, you hate that kicked puppy look. perhaps you’d feel worse if you didn’t know that he knows exactly what he’s doing, that he leans far more into manipulation than he cares to admit. “why are you pushing me away? why are you treating me like a stranger?”

“we are not familiar with each other,” you choke out.

hurt flashes across his face, tinged with rage. “you mean to tell me all of that meant nothing to you?”

“i mean to tell you that you are not the man i did that with.” before he can say anything, you push on, “you are not khaslana.”

phainon laughs. it’s wet with unshed tears, raw with emotion.

“how absurd,” he utters, “to say these are not the hands that are covered in so much blood. that touched you. that loved you.”

“you are not khaslana.” you say it firmly, like it’s the only truth in the world you are sure of. “khaslana does not have friends that worry after him, that would skin him alive if they found him here. khaslana does not have an entire nation’s adoration and a hero’s welcome every time he enters an establishment. khaslana’s smile does not show in his eyes before it even begins to cross his lips.”

phainon watches you— in shock, in silence.

“khaslana is dead,” you say lowly, the warble in your voice audible despite your best efforts to conceal it. “he perished in the final standoff against lygus.”

you force yourself to turn away from him once the first tear slips out of the corner of his eye and rolls down his cheek. you crack the door open, hesitating before him one last time.

“go live in the sun, phainon of aedes elysiae.”

you shut the door behind you. you briskly walk back toward the bar, swiping at your eyes as you go.

you cross the threshold and plaster on the best grin you can muster, winking at the first customer who flags you down.

you work through the late night into the early hours of the morning, when the bar is bustling and the crowds are booming and the most tips are to be made.

and by the time the sun rises, you’re already tucked into your bed, curtains drawn, hidden from its gaze and untouched by its warmth.

[speedycoffeedelight]

Something something an AU where Charlie gets summoned by Alastor something something

[speedycoffeedelight]

I’ll Take You V1 (I’ll Miss You Alt)

Some things are not fated to last, but trying to push closer only makes love farther out of reach. Results can be fatal.

———————————————————————

Five Cookies were baked by the Witches, radiant beings graced with wisdom and power unparalleled. The Five were destined to reshape the tempestuous world and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity for all.

Seeing as how the Five were unlike most Cookies, they could live on for far longer, the Witches have decided to bake one more Cookie. A Cookie that wasn’t as strong or held great power like them, but rather…as a companion for any of the Five to cherish and love dearly.

The love blossomed into something more that could be considered as forever happiness…

———————————————————————

You’ve always looked up to the Fount of Knowledge to know many aspects of this world like the back of his hand! However, all of the knowledge in the world wouldn’t compare to the joys he would have spending time with you!

He likes to spend his time in the Spire of All Knowledge cuddled up next to you as he reads books with you, showing you the many wonders of Earthbread! He always kept the stories interesting with his mannerisms and funny way of speaking, you’re never bored when he reads.

He makes sure to always leave time away from writing in scrolls and books to have moments with you, why would he keep his cutie patootie waiting on him! The texts could wait, snuggling up to you by his tower window was much more preferable to him!

“Man, you always tell such fascinating tales, my fair Fount! It almost makes me feel dull in comparison!”

“Oh, don’t let those little words come out of your mouth again! You are way more fascinating than any of the books I have! I can write whole books on their own on what you’re just oh so great to me!”

“Oh stop, you’re just saying things.”

“Far from it, my little Cookie~ It’s the honest truth~”

The two of you share a laugh as you look out the spire window, leaning on each other…

———————————————————————

The Herald of Change always had that bit of a grumpy side to him when it came to getting him out of his temple to come look at the new civilizations and kingdoms being created everyday.

Everything was the same to him no matter the result, but he could never say no to your requests to visit these civilizations. Your enthusiasm to see what could possibly be different was pretty infectious, encouraging him to go with you in these visits.

He was quite the protective one too, insisting that in return of going with you, you are to stick by his side as you two walked. He makes sure of that by having one of his arms around your waist, he behaves himself but will shoot a glare anyone getting too close.

“Look at that spring the townspeople made, my Herald! Look at the flowers blooming from the water and the creatures that inhabit in and around it, isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s remarkable, but it’s nothing new to me. I’ve seen many springs like this before, they come and go eventually. Just like the many civilizations we’ve visited today, there’s so much more that I can get done by now!”

“The destination may be the same, but the journey doesn’t have to. It can be different compared to another, so many different ways Cookies behave and act, environment changing with many different plants and creatures. Tell me just one thing that you wouldn’t want to change.”

The Herald, looking down at the ground, slowly formed a smile as he softly laughed, turning his gaze to look at you. One of his arms going around you to hold you close to him.

“I’d say….”

“It would be us that I would never want to change.”

“Aw….”

The two of you hold onto each other close as you both looked on at the lively spring.

———————————————————————

The Seeker of Volition was immensely patient and considerate of you, shaping and changing her realm to make you as comfortable as you can be. She knows things around the Ivory Pagoda may not too interesting or extravagant, but that was alright with you. So long as you were with her.

Her displays of affection were pretty subtle that no Cookie that visited her would’ve suspected that you and her had something close and in a way, it made it more special to her. The gentle hand holding, the way she caressed your cheek as she spoke to you, it was small yet held so much love that she shared with you.

She’s always wondered why you never asked for a wish from her, with how many Cookies that visited her wanting that exact thing. Well, you didn’t really want to wish for anything, the Seeker was enough for you. Being able to stand by her side like this was a wish come true. She didn’t understand your refusal for a wish, but…it touched her that she was enough for you.

“After all the Cookies that have come to me for a wish, I did not think you wouldn’t be one of them. Is there not anything you want wish for?”

“Oh, Seeker. We’ve been through this, ehe. I do not want a wish, I have all that I need here at the Ivory Pagoda. As long as there’s this, I’m happy.”

“You are? After spending all of your time here at the Ivory Pagoda with me, you must have some sort of wish you want granted. Please, say the word. I shall fulfill it to the best of my abilities.”

“Well….”

“Yes?”

“I wish to take a walk around the Pagoda with you. Just the two of us.”

The Seeker was not expecting such a simple and mundane wish, she would’ve seen it as a waste if it came from any other Cookie, but…

To hear it from you…it made giggle softly with a smile.

“Hm…hehe, very well. I shall grant you your wish, my dearest Cookie.”

The two of you hold hands as you leave out the doors to her Pagoda, intending to enjoy a peaceful walk together…

———————————————————————

But could that happiness really last forever?

As time went on, it felt the Cookies you once held dear to you had changed, no longer being the Cookies you once loved. It was as if the power they held was slowly warping their minds and ideals into something more twisted and dark.

———————————————————————

The Fount could never be truly honest with you, always masking his words that tinged with deceit, always making a game of things. Even the books and text he’d were how you remembered…

“Fount, this..isn’t how the story went the last time I’ve heard about it…”

“Oh, that boring ol’ story? I helped myself to make a few changes that really added to the pizzazz of it all, don’t you think?”

“But that never happened! It’s a complete fabrication! Real Cookies have gone through those events, I feel like we shouldn’t tarnish that to make it “interesting.”

“Oh my! I’m hurt! I just wanted to make it more good! Oh well, I’m sure those Cookies wouldn’t mind, right? Come on, let’s read another, shall we?”

“N-no, I don’t want to read another. I’ll just..be in my room.”

“Hey! Where you going?! I swear the details on the next one are accurate! Mostly! Maybe!”

———————————————————————

The Herald never could see how you see the many locations and civilizations you two see, always groaning and muttering that it was boring to him. It had gotten to the point where he ignored you and remain sat on his seat in the temple.

“What do you mean you’re not going?”

“I mean it. You say that all these places would be different in their own ways, but it’s all been the same! It bores me when I have to go through the same thing over and over again!”

“I-I promise that I’ll keep your interest piqued with this one-“

“NO!”

He destroyed a nearby table with a single hit.

“You can go on without me from now on. I have no reason to endure something so boring as another town visit…”

“R-right, okay, I’ll just…go.”

You hastily leave as the Herald looked at his fist that broke the table, he realized something as a large grin on his face formed…

“That…felt good….”

———————————————————————

The Seeker didn’t feel like herself anymore with the coldness and apathy she now radiated. She didn’t push you away when trying to be close like old times, but she didn’t really reciprocate your affections like she would back then. It felt like..she didn’t love you all that much anymore.

“Where you going?”

“I must return to the Ivory Pagoda in order to continue my pursuit of becoming a Leavened One.”

“I know this Leavened One status is important to you, but…wouldn’t that mean I won’t get to see you much anymore. I can’t bear that…”

“Oh, Y/N Cookie…”

She caressed your cheek, but it didn’t feel right. There was no sense of love placed into it, as if she only did it to calm you down by reminding you of the past.

“You should know that I hold this opportunity dear to me, but it does not mean I value you any less, it is meaningless to worry. I must go.”

“What about my wish to spend the day together…?”

“You should also know that not every basic wish will be granted. I am sorry…”

———————————————————————

Regardless, it felt like you were kicked to the curb as you walked outside during the night.

You were not happy. You look up at the sky, wondering if your Creator was looking down at you too.

You ask them how could things go so wrong. What purpose could you have now that the Cookies you were made for weren’t themselves anymore? Were they even the same Cookies at this rate?

You ask…what could you do…?

…

…

…

You look down, only now noticing a nearly invisible string flowing in the air, red in color as it looked like it came from your chest. You reached up to hold it and in doing so, the string was seemingly cut and it floats away into the sky…

That…oddly felt liberating. You looked at your hands and realized that..you did have meaning outside of your purpose. There was a whole world out there that you could now explore! Many things to see and Cookies to meet!

You felt rejuvenated and head off to rest for tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be a new Cookie!

Surely, the “Virtues” wouldn’t mind if you were gone for a little while, right?

…

…

…

…

But you weren’t the only one who felt a change after that string was cut…

The spire trembled.

The temple shook.

The cocoon violently spasmed.

Their occupants having felt the full effects…

The Fount suddenly tore the book they were “changing” as he keeled over, clutching his chest where his heart was…he felt…empty.

The Herald started a rampage in his temple, the pain in his chest fueling his anger and muddied despair as he destroyed everything…he felt…lost.

The Seeker, once settled in her cocoon, was now clutching her head with both her hands as she lets out silent screams of anguish, the pain in her chest amidst a void of white too great to ignore…she felt…voided.

One by one, they fall….

They’d find you, and they’ll take you….

———————————————————————

You were just about to carry on in your boat out of the continent when a sheep wandered to you.

“Oh hello, little sheep. You lost your way from your herd?”

“Baaaaa….”

“Why are you looking down? Come on, look at me…”

The sheep suddenly jolted up to look you, it looked furious as it’s eyes glowed shades of blue.

“BAAAAAA!”

“What?!”

The sheep poofed into blue smoke, and in its place was not a very angry Cookie.

“My Fount?!”

“ERRR! WRONG! Now let me ask you a question. WHY DID YOU LEAVE?!”

Shadow Milk Cookie had found you right as you were about to leave Beast-Yeast.

“I’m sorry, my Fount. But…I can’t do this anymore. You are no longer the Cookie I know and loved. You lie to me, you twist things so badly, I can’t even tell what’s true and what’s not.”

“I do not lie to you! I never could! You weren’t supposed to leave me behind! You were supposed to stick to me like glue for as long as the two of us lived!”

“We all change, Fount. That includes you and me.”

“Is that it?! Are you just going to walk away from EONS worth of our time together all for my new change of style?!”

“You are NOT going anywhere! You are coming back with me to that Spire and we are going to adore and be mushy to each other like always!”

“I’m going, Fount. I’ve made my decision…”

“Oh…hehe….ehehehe~!”

“What? What are you laughing for-“

Your movements are stopped, you are horrified to see blue strings wrapped tightly around your arm. You try to free yourself, but you found that all your limbs were wrapped in strings too. You pulled into his arms as he giggled menacingly to you, a shadow over his eyes.

“Oh, you silly little thing~ I never would’ve expected you to lie to ME! My brand new style doesn’t mean my heart went out the window! If you can’t accept how deceit seeps into the very cracks of this world, then…”

He leans in real close to your face, whispering in a chilling voice…

“I’ll just have to take you, cutie~ Ehehehe~”

You were never seen again…

———————————————————————

You were having a peaceful time in the civilization you were staying at, enjoying a nice meal provided by the locals when…

“AAAAAH! Run for your lives!”

“He’s destroying everything in his path, watch out!”

“ARGH! It hurts!”

The screams of Cookies in the distance alerted you to turn around from where you were sitting to see Cookies running away from something.

And their screams weren’t the only ones you were hearing.

“COME OUT TO ME, LITTLE COOKIE! I KNOW YOU’RE HERE SOMEWHERE!”

The Herald(?!) shouted in anger as he was breaking and bashing through anything in his path up ahead.

Cookies that were in his way were simply hit back with enough force to send them into walls or sliding back on the ground, he didn’t give them any time to move.

“Ah! Please! Show mercy!”

“Mercy?! There IS no mercy for you WORMS!”

The Cookie on the ground from an earlier attack tried to get up, but groaned in pain as Burning Spice Cookie slowly raised his weapon, the Cookie covers their face to brace for impact.

“STOP!”

Burning Spice Cookie immediately stops to look in the direction of your shout and locking eyes with you, he heads for you.

“Please, don’t hurt any more Cookies!”

“So…you’ve been here all along, spending time amidst these ANTS! The tide of Change will sweep through all, leaving everyone here as nothing but dust in the wind!”

“Have you NO IDEA how long I’ve looked for to find you when you didn’t come back the temple?!”

“To not see you by my side for DAYS?!”

“I know you’re mad, but please, you don’t have to do this! I’ll..I’ll come back with you…”

“Will you now…? I must be sure!”

“What are you-“

Your talk was stopped when he grips your shoulders and brought you to a rough kiss that left you coughing spice when he pulled away.

“Hahaha! Yes! I remember this feeling now! I expect you to stay in the temple with me, for as long as we live! I promise not to break you too easily, ahahaha!”

You felt conflicted as you were dragged with him back to the temple. He’d never let you go as easily again…

———————————————————————

You say farewell to a close friend of yours as you head inside your home. You were ready to turn in for the night as you offed the lights, it was particularly foggy tonight, so you chose to keep things closed up before you turned in for tonight.

You close your eyes and drift off to sleep..or at least, you tried to before you hear a slight creak in your room. You sit up and look, only to see a pair of slit pupils staring right back at you in the darkness in the room.

Neither of you move….

…

…

…

“I may give nothing for your loyalty, but to see you offer your mind and soul to another, right after I had been free from my cocoon…you will learn that it was pointless to try and leave me…”

“My Seeker?!”

She barely gives you time to let the realization sink in before she rushed forward to hold your cheeks in her hands, lifting you up effortlessly to bring you face to face with her as she looks down at you. Her eyes wide open and pitch black, her slit pupils bearing down on yours.

She was as expressionless as ever, but her eyes told you everything you needed to know that she was mad. You felt weak, dough turning pale..

“I never forgot our bond, the years upon years that we shared…my rise to the Leavened One should not have been a path I walked alone…”

“Why are you saying..?”

“I should’ve shared my feelings with you, to show you that everything will be futile in the end. Just like your intentions to leave me as just a thought…”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“THIS is my wish. To have you see what I see, to feel how I feel. About everything, about you…”

“No, please…”

“I promise…I promise to not have us walk alone anymore…”

Everything was a blur as she took you away from your home, up the stairs; and back to the Ivory Pagoda. The last of the outside world forever a distant memory as the cocoon wrapped up once more, Mystic Flour clutching you close to her body.

Together in a world of white, that is what she always wished for…

———————————————————————

“I loved you

Even though I loved you

I’ll treat you like this

Like the traitor you are

Return my feelings

I loved you

Even though I loved you

Forever”

———————————————————————

[speedycoffeedelight]

All of the St. Valencringe cards I made for the CRK server contest!

Idk who would even use these, but they’re all free to use with credit lmao

[speedycoffeedelight]

https://www.tumblr.com/allimili/766416953950830592/httpswwwtumblrcomallimili766411810389852161?source=share

Just had funniest thought...

Imagine a cheeky y/n...when shadow milk tells pure vanilla not to touch em, y/n goes out of their way to poke pure vanilla. When pure vanilla tells shadow milk not to touch em, y/n goes out of their way to poke shadow milk!

Both look at y/n...and, for cuteness and as a punishment to y/n...they both tickle y/n like crazy to try to teach em not to touch the other! XD

extra

[speedycoffeedelight]

We got shadow milk and mystic flower out of the phone/game but what about my man burning spice 😔

Oh, what do we have here?

extra

[speedycoffeedelight]

Meeting you

extra

he would love his new form idk why

[speedycoffeedelight]

Ok so I had a bad few things happen today and actually ended up crying so I wanted to cheer myself up with some CRK and, bc he’s currently one of my favorite Cookies, I went to Shadow Milk Cookie in my Cookie menu. First time I opened his page up, he asked me “Why the loooong face?” and the second time, he said “‘Tis I, your humble jester, here to brighten up your mood!” and, ngl, those actually did kinda cheer me up like he knew so I’m doing smth a lil different and OOC tonight so-

Self-Aware!Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader Comfort Headcanons

• He knows the moment you log on that something is wrong

• He’s found himself rather attentive towards you, so he knows your usual mannerisms like the back of his hand

• So, of course, when you go to him in your Cookie Menu, he asks “Why the loooong face?”

• He notices you’re a bit surprised, which he laughs about to himself a bit. He knows you likely won’t tell him, you still think he’s purely running off programs and code, but no matter!

• And so, he gets to work!

• Suddenly, you seem really lucky in the game. You’re pulling all the cookies you want (including him, heh!) and getting all the rewards you need from Royal Margarine’s card game. Every chest you open grants you what you’re looking for, and toppings are getting just the right buffs you need for your cookies!

• Not to mention that, every time you’re in your kingdom, you spot Shadow Milk looking towards the screen with his usual smile present on his face

• You think you’re going crazy but maybe all those jokes that Shadow Milk is at least a lil self aware have some truth to them?

• When you go to him again in the cookie menu, he tells you “‘Tis I, your humble jester, here to brighten up your mood!” and brighten up your mood he certainly did

• With a genuine and grateful smile, you whisper a small “thank you”

• At that moment, his eyes seem to focus directly on you and you’re just barely able to catch the “You’re welcome, doll~”

• As you blink in surprise, his sprite winks at you

• … You must be hearing and seeing things… you need to go to bed…

• Once you turn off the game, Shadow Milk can’t help but cackle loudly. Oh, your face was priceless! Perhaps he should play around a lil more with the game’s code to see what else he can do~

[speedycoffeedelight]

me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*

[speedycoffeedelight]

one braincell transfer (divided by four)

[speedycoffeedelight]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Phainon x reader

The rumors were true.

You stood in front of the large, polished machine, its sleek metallic surface reflecting the soft neon glow of the surrounding marketplace. The “Lucky Egg Dispenser” as it was called, had become something of a sensation overnight. A single pull of the trigger, and you’d receive an egg—an unhatched mystery promising the perfect partner. Most people spoke of rare creatures, companion animals with unique abilities, and even a few who whispered about something… stranger.

“Lucky egg?” you mused aloud, shifting the weight of the gun-like trigger in your grip. You’d always been one to try new things. It didn’t hurt to take a chance.

With a decisive motion, you squeezed the trigger.

A soft whirring sound filled the air before a pristine white egg gently rolled out, stopping perfectly at your feet. You crouched down, picking it up. Warm. Alive.

A small smile tugged at your lips. Taking care of it would be simple, you were no stranger to nurturing things. Three days. That was all it would take for it to hatch.

You weren’t worried in the slightest.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for your “partner” to be a human.

The egg hatched in the dead of night. A soft crackling sound stirred you from your sleep, but by the time you were fully awake, the shell had already split apart.

And there, sitting on your bed, was a boy.

No, not a boy, a young man, probably around your age.

Pale skin, silver-white hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and brilliant, otherworldly eyes. His clothes were odd, somewhere between regal and alien, but the most alarming thing was the wide, almost manic grin stretching across his face.

Before you could react, he lunged at you, arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing embrace.

“My name is Phainon!” he chirped, his voice filled with unfiltered joy. “I’m your partner now!”

Oh no...Your stomach dropped as realization set in.

Baby duck syndrome.

You knew the term well. When a newborn creature imprints on the first living being they see and attaches to them completely. You were that first living being.

And judging by the way Phainon’s grip tightened, as if he’d never let go, you had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as simple as you thought.

Phainon clung to you like a vice, his grip almost bruising as he buried his face into your neck. His breath was warm, uneven with excitement, and his entire body trembled, not with fear, but something far more intense.

“You’re mine” he whispered, his voice filled with unshakable certainty. “I belong to you… and you belong to me.”

This was bad. You tried to gently pry him off, but the moment you moved, his arms locked around you tighter, his fingers digging into your back as if he were afraid you’d disappear. His blue eyes, impossibly bright and alight with something unsettling, gazed up at you with an overwhelming adoration.

“Don’t push me away” Phainon begged “I just hatched… I need you.”

You swallowed, carefully adjusting your expression. “I-I’m not pushing you away. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

His gaze flickered with doubt before softening, though his grip didn’t loosen.

“I won’t let you leave me” he promised, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I was born for you.”

You had really gotten yourself into trouble this time.

With Phainon practically glued to your side, you dragged him along to the dungeon. You needed supplies, and in this world, the only way to survive was by hunting monsters and trading points for food and goods. At the very least, you thought you could shake off some of his energy by keeping him occupied. What you didn’t expect was just how powerful he was.

The first monster barely had a chance to move before Phainon lunged, his bare hands tearing through it like paper. Blue eyes shimmered with an eerie thrill as he made quick work of the beasts around you. No hesitation. No struggle. Just raw, overwhelming strength. You stared, a mix of awe and unease settling in your gut.

“Phainon…” You hesitated as he turned to you, still grinning. “How do you know how to fight?”

He tilted his head, as if the question itself was strange. “I was born to protect you” he answered simply. “If anything dares to harm you, I’ll rip it apart.”

His words were spoken with such sincerity that it made your skin crawl. Still, you couldn’t deny the convenience. With him by your side, earning points was absurdly easy.

So you took him to the marketplace, trading in your earnings and buying him new clothes, something normal, something that would help him blend in.

But as you held up a shirt for him to try, he only stared at you with an unsettling softness.

“You take such good care of me…” He exhaled, stepping closer. “You really do love me.”

Your grip on the fabric tightened.

This was going to be a problem.

Even as you weaved through the marketplace, his fingers curled around your wrist, grip firm and unwavering. His blue eyes scanned the crowd with silent intensity, watching every passerby with something between wariness and irritation, as if anyone who so much as looked at you was a potential threat.

You sighed, trying to ignore it.

That was until someone called your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned, spotting an old friend making their way toward you, smiling. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Before you could respond, their gaze flickered to Phainon, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“…Oh? Who’s this?” they asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t exactly say he came from an egg. That would sound insane. So, against your better judgment, you went along with it. “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

Your friend chuckled. “I figured. He looks like he’d kill someone if they so much as breathed in your direction.”

You let out an awkward laugh, hoping they were joking.

Phainon, however, only smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I would” he murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your friend’s laughter faltered.

Before the situation could get any worse, you quickly made your exit, dragging Phainon away.

When you finally got home, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “You can’t just say things like that, you know.”

Phainon tilted his head. “But it’s true.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a meal. The sound of chopping and sizzling filled the space, and for a moment, things felt… normal.

But you could still feel Phainon’s admiring gaze on you.

When you finally placed a plate in front of him, his eyes softened.

“You take such good care of me” he murmured.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just eat.”

But as you turned away, his voice reached you again, quiet, almost innocent.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

This was getting worse by the second.

The next morning, Phainon was already awake before you, sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you with silent fascination. You ignored the unsettling feeling that came with knowing he had likely been staring at you for a while.

“We’re going out!” you said, stretching. “I need to figure out what you’re actually capable of.”

His expression brightened. “You’re thinking about me first thing in the morning?” His voice was honeyed, pleased. “That makes me happy.”

You sighed. “Just get ready.”

Despite his odd behavior, you needed to assess his skills properly. Yesterday’s display of strength was impressive, but you weren’t sure if he had magic abilities as well. If he was going to fight alongside you, he needed the right weapon.

So, you took him to a well-known weapon shop in the city.

The place was stocked with everything—swords, spears, enchanted items, and magic-infused equipment. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at Phainon as he trailed closely behind you, practically glued to your side.

“A new recruit?” they asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Something like that. I need to test his capabilities and get him a sword.”

Phainon didn’t seem too interested in the conversation. Instead, his attention remained locked onto you, his fingers subtly brushing against your arm as if to remind himself that you were still there.

The shopkeeper guided you both to the testing grounds in the back.

Phainon barely glanced at the weapons lined up for testing. Instead, he turned to you, expectant.

“Choose one for me” he said.

You blinked. “Why? You should pick what feels right.”

He smiled “I want your choice. Something that reminds you of me.”

You hesitated, but eventually, you picked a sword. When you handed it to him, he held it as if it were sacred, his fingers running over the hilt with reverence. Then, he turned toward the practice dummy and swung. The air itself seemed to hum as the blade sliced cleanly through, the force of his strike strong enough to split the dummy in two. You barely had time to react before the lingering energy from his swing crackled, a faint shimmer of magic lacing through the air.

So he did have magic.

The shopkeeper let out a low whistle. “That’s some terrifying raw talent.”

Phainon ignored them, stepping closer to you, lifting the sword slightly.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “It suits you.”

His eyes softened, a quiet sort of delight settling in his expression. “Then I’ll treasure it forever.”

It wasn’t about the sword. It was about the fact that you were the one who gave it to him.

Going into the dungeon with Phainon was like having a high-level DPS at your side. You barely had to lift a finger.

With every swing of his sword, monsters fell instantly, torn apart before they could even react. His raw strength was unmatched, his movements precise and brutal, and his magic crackled through the air with every strike. All you had to do was keep him healed.

Whenever he took a hit, rare as it was, you were there, casting healing spells or applying potions before he could even flinch. It was almost effortless, and the way he looked at you every time you healed him sent a strange chill down your spine.

“You always take care of me” he murmured, after you placed a hand on his arm to patch up a small wound. His blue eyes burned with something unreadable. “It makes me love you even more.”

You pretended not to hear him.

By the end of the run, you had racked up an absurd amount of points. It was more than you’d ever earned in a single trip. But as you left the dungeon, your path was blocked. A group of men stood in front of you, their expressions dark with anger.

“You!” one of them spat, eyes locked on you. “That was our dungeon route. You took our points.”

You stiffened. You had heard of people like this before, territorial dungeon crawlers who claimed certain areas as their own, even though the dungeons were free for all. Phainon, however, only tilted his head, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword.

“Move” he said simply.

The men sneered. “Or what?”

Phainon smiled. And then, in the blink of an eye, he moved.

You barely saw it happen. One second, the men were standing tall, and the next, they were on the ground, groaning, writhing, clutching broken limbs. Phainon hadn’t even drawn his sword. He had simply crushed them with his bare hands. You felt the blood drain from your face as he turned back to you, expression calm, as if nothing had happened.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he stepped close to you, his voice almost soothing. “I’ll always protect you.”

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin.

“You’ll never need anyone else.”

You weren’t the only one who noticed Phainon’s strength.

Word spread fast in the city. A newcomer, practically fresh out of nowhere, tearing through dungeons with monstrous efficiency? It was bound to catch attention.

When you returned to the marketplace, a group of uniformed individuals was waiting for you. Their armor bore the insignia of the Adventurer’s Guild, the organization that oversaw dungeon crawlers and regulated combat prowess.

One of them, a woman with sharp eyes, stepped forward. “We’ve received reports about you” she said, looking Phainon up and down. “Your combat abilities are… unusual.”

Phainon didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.

The woman continued, unfazed. “We’d like to evaluate your rank. If you’re as strong as people claim, you should be registered with the guild.”

You hesitated, then glanced at Phainon. “It’s up to you” you said casually. “You can decide for yourself.”

His reaction was immediate. His blue eyes snapped to yours, wide with something unreadable. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if suppressing an impulse.

For the first time since you met him, Phainon looked… lost.

“You’re letting me decide?” he murmured, almost as if the concept itself was foreign to him. His voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous beneath it.

The guild members watched the exchange, waiting for an answer.

Then, without warning, Phainon grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but not painful—more like an anchor, something grounding him.

“I don’t need them!” he said, his eyes darkening. “I don’t need a rank. I don’t need recognition. I only need you.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Phainon...”

But he wasn’t listening. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, as if reassuring himself that you were still there, still his.

“I’ll prove it” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’ll see… I don’t need anything else.”

The woman from the guild frowned. “Refusing to register might cause problems later. If you change your mind, come to the guild hall.” She gave you a lingering look before turning away, leading her team elsewhere.

Once they were gone, you exhaled, glancing down at your guild-issued device. You hadn’t checked Phainon’s stats since he hatched. Opening the interface, your breath caught in your throat. His level had skyrocketed. It wasn’t just growth, it was unnatural. No one leveled up this fast. Slowly, you looked up at him, finding him already staring at you.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “You’re looking at me differently” he murmured. “Are you finally realizing it?”

Realizing what?

Phainon wasn’t just strong. He was something else.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Phainon’s level growth wasn’t just unnatural, it was impossible. Even the most elite adventurers took years to reach his current strength, yet he had done it in mere days. And his reaction when you let him decide for himself… the way he clung to you, as if the very idea of autonomy was foreign to him… Something wasn’t right.

That night, while Phainon sat contentedly by the fireplace, watching you with that ever-present devotion, you busied yourself with research.

You poured through old adventurer logs, ancient texts, and anything that might explain the anomaly that was him. But no record of a “lucky egg” spawning a human existed. Every instance of the machine had resulted in creatures—beasts, familiars, magical companions. Never a person. Then, deep within an old archive, you found something.

A passage detailing an experiment.

“In pursuit of the perfect companion, scholars once sought to craft an entity bound by absolute devotion. A being that would imprint upon the first soul it encountered, instinctively prioritizing their happiness and survival above all else. However, these creations proved unstable—obsessive, possessive, and far too powerful. The project was ultimately abandoned, all records sealed away.”

Your gaze flickered toward Phainon.

His blue eyes gleamed in the firelight, calm and unreadable as he met your stare.

“You’re looking at me like that again”

“Phainon…” You swallowed. “What are you?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, walking toward you with measured steps. When he reached you, he knelt—his head resting against your lap, his arms wrapping around you in a loose embrace.

“I don’t know” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But does it matter?”

He tilted his head, pressing closer, his warmth seeping into you.

“All I know is that I belong to you” he murmured, smiling softly. “And that’s the only truth I need.”

Your fingers trembled against the pages of the book.

This was worse than you thought.

Phainon wasn’t just obsessed.

He was made to be.

[speedycoffeedelight]

Unpopular opinion,

Too many men are written as “dom daddy” types in fics.

Like be for real, that man would be honored to be your floor mat.

He’s not giving orders, he’s taking them.

Stop being afraid, put on your big boots, and step on that man.

[speedycoffeedelight]

Bless the original hellsite for enabling me to post this entire post-season-two saga in full.

[speedycoffeedelight]

*hides behind laptop*

⬅Prev: Part 1- Opposites

Spell Gone Wrong

Part 2- Devilish Human

Alastor X Reader

Alastor is trying a new spell but it's not right and something goes wrong.

Warnings ⚠

⚠ possessive Alastor, Human Alastor, time travel mentioned, Italics= thoughts, kisses, blood, cussing. ⚠

It's been weeks since the spell mess up, but Alastor still hasn't given up on it and continued tinkering around with some of the words in his book.

You don't know exactly what he's trying to do but as long as there isn't a huge mess it's fine.

The breeze outside is nice as you read your book out in the garden, the aroma of roses and daisies hit your nose every so often, and you have an umbrella next to your chair giving you shade.

An absolutely perfect peaceful afternoon, with the occasional sounds of nature.

Until it wasn't.

A big boom sounded from inside the house. You stood quickly and opened the back door, running into the house.

There was smoke everywhere, it made you cough and slow down in your stride as it was so dense. Barely able to take a few steps forward without worrying about hitting the furniture, you called out to your fiance.

"Alastor!?", you shouted and then coughed. "Are you alright? What happened-", you coughed again.

"I'm fine dear!", Alastor responded. "The damn spell went wrong again. Help me open the windows and doors!"

Both of you worked together and opened what you could to get the smoke out. You got a rag to help move the smoke along and Alastor summoned an electric fan, which did the trick.

Once it cleared most of the way, both of you saw a figure lying on the floor of the house.

"Ugh..", the figure groans and sits up, their back facing you as they lift a hand to rub the side of their head.

"Are you..alright?", you ask and take a step towards the person who suddenly appeared.

The figure turns to face you and Alastor groans in defeat.

"Again?", your fiancé sighs.

They are human, a very handsome one at that, and they back away slowly. Their hand moving around until it grabs onto a metal candle holder on the coffee table, swinging it in front of themselves and pointed at you.

"Where am I and what are you?", the human asks with a scowl.

"Hold on-", you start but Alastor stands in front of you.

"Now, now. We don't point a weapon at someone who's asking if you're alright.", the red deer demon scolds. "You'd think my human self would be a little more put together and wearing a smile."

"Human self?", you say surprised.

You met Alastor after death, so of course you've never seen him when he was alive. However, you didn't know that he was that attractive in life as well.

"That still doesn't answer my question sir.", human Alastor says.

"Put the candle stick down.", your fiance hisses out.

The two glare at each other and you roll your eyes. With a huff, you move out from behind your fiance and place a hand on the candle stick, lowering it down.

"As much as this is a shock to everyone, let's be civil about it. Ok?", you say and glance at the two before looking back at the human man. "You're in Hell. As crazy as this is going to sound, that-", you point at the Radio Demon. "-is demon you. And I am his fiancé."

"Demons?", he says and finally puts down the candle stick. "How did I get here? And how did I- he? How am I a demon here?"

"That would be my fault.", Alastor confesses. "I've been working on a spell but the results have not been satisfactory.. As for the demon part, well you'll find out in due time."

"It's no surprise if he's doing what you did in life.", you say. "This counts as time travel doesn't it?", you ask and look to your fiance. "What spell are you working on?"

"A difficult one darling.", is all the deer demon says before kissing your forehead.

Human Alastor looks away and takes in the interior of the house, finding pictures and art along the walls, with the occasional gun display. The furniture is mostly red and brown, like usual but he sees the decorative pillows and knows that must be the other demon's doing.

"If this is Hell, it's not too bad."

"Are you ok though? Did you hit your head?", you ask, attention back on human Alastor. "Please rest if you're not feeling well."

"I'm fi-"

"Just sit down.", Alastor says and pushes his human self to sit on the couch. "There isn't much you can do in Hell anyway since you're a human. So fragile."

You can see human Al-, hmm.. You can see Astor get annoyed by that last comment your fiance made.

"Alastor. Be. Nice.", you say and pull the red deer away, pushing him towards the back room. "Go and figure out a way to take him back to his time."

"Darling-", he starts.

"If you can't be nice then you won't get any kisses for a week!"

Reluctantly, the Radio Demon does as told and walks into the back room where he does his spells, giving you one last glance before closing the door behind himself.

You sigh and turn to look at Astor, finding him looking everywhere but at you.

"You ok there hun?", you ask.

"Forgive me but-ahem.", the human glances at you before looking away again. "I just can't imagine myself with someone as breathtaking as you."

You blush and wave it off.

"Geez. A charmer even in life, huh?", you laugh. "I'm nothing to look at really but thank you."

"Do I-? Does he not compliment you?", he asks suddenly.

You blink in surprise at the question.

"It's just, you seem to act like he doesn't but I apologize if I am being too rude with my question. It would be terrible if-", he begins to ramble.

"Slow down there.", you smile. "It's nice that you're worried but I'm treated very well. I mean, it is you.", you test the waters and pat his shoulder. "Though, why ask? I was told by my fiancé that he wasn't interested in anyone when alive.", you say.

"I don't get to meet you until after."

Is.. Is he flirting with me? You wonder and move your hand off of his shoulder.

Astor takes your hand before you can move it any farther and places a kiss on your knuckles.

"It's a shame that I don't get to have some time with you when alive."

Like deja vu, your fiancé rips you away from the house guest and holds you close.

"My love, you really must stick by my side when we have such guests over.", Alastor says with a sinister smile. "I still haven't forgotten what that blue bastard did."

Astor just smiles.

"Just telling your fiancé it's a shame we didn't meet sooner.", he says. "I can only imagine what fun we could of had together."

"Yes, though it is a shame, it seems that it was certainly needed. What a terrible flirt you are to my fiancé.", your fiancé gently guides your head and leads you into a kiss.

Astor frowns but then has a strange look in his eye.

"I'm surprised you aren't married to them yet. What's wrong? Not sure?", he grins.

You gasp as you break out of the kiss and glare at the human.

"Alastor-", you then state the rest of his full human name in anger. "How dare you imply such a thing! Do you even understand what you just said!?"

Before he can utter out another word, you turn and stomp off, slamming the back door behind you as you go back to the garden.

"I've forgotten what I fool I was.", Alastor sighs.

"Shit-", Astor stands to chase after you but is held back by his demon self.

"No use in going now. Let them have a moment to themselves.", the deer demon advises. "They are a force to be reckoned with."

Outside, you are upset and make your way over to the water fountain, snatching a hell daisy with a hiss as the thorns prick into your palms.

Sitting on the rim, you mutter curses as you rip petal after petal off of the flower and toss them into the water. You go back and forth doing this until you finally feel yourself start to calm down and your hand stings with all the bleeding scratches.

You walk back into the house after noticing it's getting a bit dark, using your dominant hand to open the door and holding the bleeding one in front of your chest.

When you walk in, you find Astor pacing before he stops and looks over at you.

"Dear, I just wanted to apolo-", he walks over quickly before noticing your hand. "Ah, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine.", you say and move around him to get the first aid kit.

He stops you by grabbing your wrist.

You turn to snap at him but then see the human worried.

"Please let me take care of it.", Astor pleads. "Please?"

"Fine.", you pull your wrist out of his hold and sit down on a stool near the kitchen counter. "There's a first aid kit under the kitchen sink."

He nods and quickly enters the kitchen, opening the bottom cabinet under the sink in search of the first aid kit.

He comes back not a second later and sets everything up to take care of the wounds.

Carefully taking your hand, Astor is gentle as he cleans the blood off. Apologizing when you hiss or squirm in your seat. Your hand is then wrapped up in gauze and he ties the end before tucking the extra bit under one of the folds, making it look neat.

"I must apologize again. I didn't think thoroughly about what I wanted to say. I just-", he sighs. "I'm just jealous that I-. That he has someone but I don't have anyone waiting for me back home.."

"Astor.", you start.

"Astor?", he looks up at you confused.

"Oh, I forgot. I've been calling you Astor in my head so I don't confuse you and my fiancé.", you explain. "Anyway, it was still very wrong of you to say but I can sympathize. It's not easy being alone."

He nods and looks away.

"Please be mindful of what you say hun.", you reach over and place a hand on his cheek, making him look at you agian. "But don't be sad too long. You do have someone waiting in the future. Ok? Keep smiling.", you smile.

With a soft smile, Astor nods and kisses the palm of your bandaged hand.

"Only for you."

Alastor shows up and shoves his human self away, wrapping his arms around you as Astor falls to the floor.

"Yes, yes. Be good and wait.", the red deer smiles cheekily and kisses your temple. "Satan knows you need to practice your patience."

All you do is sigh as Astor gets up and dusts himself off, glaring at his demon self.

"It would seem so."

Your fiancé sets things up to send his human self back and Astor helps him. The two grumble at each other but get the job done.

It's the same process as last time, but now with sun stones surrounding the calk circle.

Both of you watch as the human fades away.

"I swear if there's another Alastor that lays his hands on you-", your love says with a tone.

"Yes, I know. You'll do your worst.", you kiss his nose. "But it's nice to know that you love me in multiple shapes and forms."

Alastor smiles and pecks your lips.

"How could I not my darling? You're everything."

"Mhm..", you hum.

Then you remind him of something.

"No kisses for a week"

*screeches into the void*

~Seline, the person.

Part 3

Taglist@

@+in the comments+

ML II Alastor🎙 | SGW ChL✨

[speedycoffeedelight]

ALASTOR "DESKTOP BUDDY" SHIMEJI

I got beef with my boss (yes im roleplaying as a VoxTek employee rn) and Alastor stepped in to be the better man cough Shimeji cough out of the two uwaaa

Here is the DOWNLOAD LINK for the Radio Demon!!

Extract the file, make sure to read the "readme" file!

Only Windows, idk how mac or mobile works

The next basement captive I plan on releasing is..

this guy!!!

buy me a ko-fi? perhamps?

wait where did he go

[speedycoffeedelight]

Dead Air

~

Chapter Six: Web Weaving

~

Masterlist

AO3

~

Pairing: Vox/Reader, Alastor/Reader, One-sided RadioStatic

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Valentino being a creepy piece of shit, emotional manipulation, gaslighting

Word Count: 4.7k

You wake up in a bed you immediately know isn't your own. The silk sheets cocooning your broken body could only really belong to one person. You don't immediately sense another presence in the room with you, causing you to dare peek your eyes open to take in your surroundings. The large amount of blue that greets you is all the confirmation you need to know you're in Vox's room. 

You'd only caught brief glimpses of it through the doorway. It was the one place in Vox's penthouse you'd never personally stepped foot in. Now you were wrapped up in the center of his bed, tucked in as if done with care. Even laying still, you can feel the pain pulsing through different parts of your body. It was far duller than last night, but it demanded your attention nonetheless. 

Your attempt to roll fully onto your back causes you to release a distressed whimper. The gouges Vox had left on your back still stung with ruthless determination. You're forced instead to roll back onto your side, your body curling defensively in on itself. Maybe if you made yourself small enough, you'd disappear. 

You stare blankly out the floor to ceiling windows along one side of Vox's room. The red morning light of the Pride ring filters through the blue tinted windows casting a purplish tinge across the room. 

Your mind swims with all the events of yesterday. It was so hard to believe it'd only been a day. You'd been savagely taken apart in both body and mind by two men in the span of less than twenty-four hours. It felt almost like a miracle you hadn't broken yet. 

Or had you? 

The feeling of numb despair wasn't new to you, but this felt different. You'd never felt so hollowed out, as if you'd been scooped clean from the inside out and were now left an empty shell. You'd been used as a pawn before, your whole life being played within a game you had no control over. 

It only seemed fitting you'd still be forced to endure the wicked machinations of men even in death. This was your fate, to be passed from one set of hands to the next as you're used, abused, and then tossed to the side like a piece of rubble. 

You couldn't do this. 

You wouldn't survive this. 

You wish Vox had just extinguished your soul and been done with it. 

Maybe then you'd finally know peace. 

You long to know what it would be like to no longer be haunted by the things done to you by others, for freedom and control over yourself. What would things look like if you weren't always afraid? If you weren't always being chased by memories and the feelings they brought. What if you had someone who genuinely protected you, who would keep you safe from ever being harmed again? 

The thoughts were foolish, but you couldn't help thinking them. Anything that could be a temporary escape from everything else. If you could distract yourself with fantasies, no matter how unrealistic, maybe surviving reality would be easier. 

Your mind drifts back to the lazy comfortability of your apiaries. You'd never felt safer or more relaxed than the time you spent with your honeybees. It'd been a peculiar hobby to pick up in your teen years, all the students at school finding you strange when you spoke about it. They'd been the one thing Evan didn't taint with his twisted touch, until he did. 

You never blamed the bees for your murder, they didn't know any better. You barely knew better when he'd shoved you into a room full of an agitated swarm of them. You don't know what he'd done, but he'd gotten them angry—scared—they didn't recognize you. The stings stopped hurting far quicker than you would have thought. You're not even sure you really remember dying, it just felt like one minute you were alive, and then next you were here in Hell. 

It felt like the ultimate form of cruelty from your husband. You'd endured so much, you'd been so good, did everything he said, tried to be his perfect doll. In the end though, you'd always end up cast aside for not being good enough. You'd begun to stumble during his cons, your accidents far more frequently needing to be fixed or covered up. Maybe you could have made it through if that'd been the only case, but Evan wanted a child. 

You hadn't been good enough to give him one. Your body refusing to do the one thing you were raised to do. 

So when Evan realized he was playing with a broken doll, he threw it away. 

With his final act against you, he finished stealing everything from you. 

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry when you first looked into a mirror upon arriving in Hell. You couldn't tell if it was a karmic slap in the face or the universes attempts to give you some semblance of comfort. If you're being honest with yourself, you still don't know. 

You hear a door open somewhere else in the penthouse causing you to wrap yourself tighter in Vox's navy sheets. You wanted to make yourself as small as possible. 

That feeling only increases when the figure casting a shadow over the room isn't even the one you're expecting. 

It's so much worse. 

"Well, this certainly isn't what I expected to stumble upon this morning," Valentino's sickly sweet voice echoes gleefully from the doorway. "I thought you might be off somewhere in Hell regenerating a new body." 

You resist the urge to completely tuck yourself into a ball and hide away from the giant moth. Though you don't even know what to say. Why was Val even here? Would he leave you alone if you didn't give him any reason to stay? Could you ignore him long enough to escape more conflict? 

You always strived to make it so you were never alone with the other Vees, they were too unpredictable with Vox in the room with them, fuck knows you didn't want to know how it extended when they didn't have a reason to reign in their behavior. Vox strangely enough—even with the events of last night—was the most predictable of his partners. He was also the owner of your soul so he'd defend you from them to an extent. 

Now though you were alone with Valentino for the first time ever, and the fear was clarifyingly sharp. 

Your heart rate picks up at a jack rabbits pace, your body tensing painfully through the fear. Your hands shake as they clutch tighter around your fabric shield. Anxiety prickles along your exposed skin, and you become painfully aware of your vulnerable state beneath the covers. 

The word consent didn't seem to exist in Valentino's vocabulary, and you're almost positive without his boyfriend present, you wouldn't be an exception to that. You knew how Angel was treated and he was Val's top performer, why would Vox's play thing be any different. 

"Really, I'm surprised you're even in one piece considering the temper tantrum Vox threw before you came home. He was so very upset." Valentino muses as he pulls away from the door frame and begins walking towards you. 

His movements are calculated like a predator stalking its prey. His burning red eyes narrowed into slits as he regards you with an indecipherable expression. 

Your body is screaming at you to run. Hell you'd run straight through the windows to the pavement below if you thought it would do you any good. Your growing awareness of your nudity keeps you frozen. It was bad enough Vox had seen you so exposed, especially with everything he's done to you. The last thing you needed was Valentino taking it as an open opportunity. 

A small part of your subconscious was also afraid that if he did, and Vox came back, he'd simply turn a blind eye at that point and let Valentino finish with you. 

His towering form moves closer to the bed and you completely lose your ability to keep eye contact with him. 

Alarm bells scream loudly in your head but you're helpless to do anything. 

It's nearly impossible to suppress the shriek that rises in you when he suddenly drops to the edge of the bed, his massive frame reaching close to you even with him sitting. You can't stop yourself from scrambling back across the bed, immediately forgetting about your prior apprehension. 

Valentino leers at you with a large grin that only grows when the sheets fall away from your body. Something akin to a rumbling growl echoes from his chest. 

"Well, well, well, you really were hiding something under all that fabric. Shame Vox seems so intent on not sharing." 

You hate the way he's looking at you, his body is coiled and tense as if about to strike. 

Then, he does. 

He lunges at you with a speed you're helpless to stop. Just as you turn to launch yourself from the bed, his hand catches one of your wings to pull you back towards him. You let out a panicked cry at the agony it sends through you, his grip is so tight it feels as if your wings might threaten to tear. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If not, I might have to do Vox a favor and clip your wings." 

"No!" You gape up at him with fear filled eyes. 

"Shut up!" 

Valentino grabs your hair tightly before shoving you face first into the mattress. You let out a fearful whimper into the sheets. 

"If you're quiet and take this like a good bitch, Vox won't find out." He grunts as he tries to get you to cease your struggle. 

"Oh I think he will actually." 

You'd never been so grateful to hear Vox's voice. You nearly cry with relief. 

"Get away from her, Val." His voice is heavy with displeasure. 

You can't see him from your angle on the bed but you know he's wearing a look of aggravation. You can feel the tension crackling in the air between the two Overlords. Valentino grips your hair tighter, pushing you further into the bed before releasing you. 

"You used to be so much fun Vox." He purrs as you feel his weight leave the bed entirely. 

You can't help the way your breathing picks up as if you're about to have a panic attack. The fabric of the sheets suddenly feels coarse and brittle beneath your bare skin. 

"You don't get to talk to her that way, and you sure as shit don't get to touch her like that." Vox's voice begins to distort with subtle bursts of buzzing electricity. 

"Don't I though? I thought what's yours is mine, mi amore. Isn't that how relationships work?" Valentino coos sweetly as he moves across the room to Vox. 

You keep your head down in the blankets, you wanted to draw as little attention to yourself as you could. It'd be easier to just leave them to it. Still Vox's words and tone leave you feeling... strange. 

"You know I can still smell you between her legs. Tell me, did you enjoy the Radio Demon's sloppy seconds?" 

A distorted growl rips from Vox, the sound heavily laced with static. The lights in the room begin to cut in and out, the electricity humming and popping loudly. 

"Get. Out." Vox's voice carries throughout the space in a haunting way. Everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

"Oh come on, you know I'm just teasing." Valentino murmurs. 

"I'm not in the mood Val. Leave." He violently shoves his finger in the direction of the door.

"Touchy today, are we? Alright, fine. I'll leave you to your little temper tantrum. Seems like you found a good outlet for it anyway." He leans in close to Vox, his voice dropping in tone. "I've taught you so well." 

With the soft sound of his wings swishing and the door closing, he's gone leaving you and Vox in solitude once more. 

You feel the bed dip next to you before you're being pulled into his arms. The quick change in positions shocks you, but it's the way he's holding you that ends up shocking you more. Despite his horrid treatment last night—his wrath about Alastor—he gathers you into his arms as if you were something precious. 

"Blossom, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" All the filters over his voice have ceded and his voice is now so gentle. 

The irony of his question is far from lost on you. You don't want Vox to see the tears forming in your eyes, so you bury your head into his chest, clinging to him like he'll offer you your salvation. It hurts, to seek comfort in your abuser. You always did because you had no other form of it. You'd take your comfort where you could get it, and right now, it was in the arms of the monster who caused your distress in the first place. 

"Bea? Please talk to me." 

Though instead of pushing you away, his arms cradle you closer. His touch now feels like such a rough juxtaposition to last night. How were the hands holding you so tenderly be the same ones to have drowned you last night? 

The mere memory of the panic and desperation he caused draws more tears to your eyes. 

His hands carefully move to cup your face, pulling you away from him just enough to be able to look down at you. His expression immediately softens when he sees your tear stained cheeks. The ache in your heart grows in the quiet moment where all you do is watch each other. 

"Did Valentino hurt you?" His tone is more serious but still soft. 

Finally you answer him with a shake of your head. The movement causes the tears to spill faster and you can no longer look at him. You put your face back against his chest, your hands clinging to his shirt with desperation. 

Vox lets out a sigh of relief. One of his hands comes up to stroke your hair, shushing you quietly. 

"I won't let him. I'll never let him lay a hand on you." Vox murmurs against your scalp. 

"Promise?" You question in distress. 

Vox makes a broken sound somewhere deep in his chest, one telling of untold pain. You didn't know the extent of his and Valentino's relationship, but you knew it wasn't healthy, or even really good. 

"I promise." He breathes out like a prayer. 

The two of you stay like that for a few more minutes, Vox not seeming to care as your tears begin to wet the fabric of his clothes. He hums gently as one of his hands carefully rubs your back while avoiding the wounds he'd left the prior morning. They were the most healed out of all the injuries, but they were still agonizing when touched. 

"Can I cook you breakfast?" 

The question is so absurd it makes you bark out a laugh. You can't help it, your emotions are so heightened and your brain fried. You don't even think about the possibility of him getting upset by your reaction. 

You pull back from him, eyes scrutinizing his features to figure out whether or not he's joking. 

It doesn't look like he is. 

"Vox..." You start to say cautiously. "As nice as that sounds, you and I both know you're basically helpless in the kitchen." 

He draws back, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Though the expression on his face is light and teasing. "Am not!" 

His silly reaction draws a small smile to your face. The topic of Vox's utter shit abilities in the kitchen isn't new between you. There was a reason the Vee's were ordering food more often than cooking. None of them could really cook to save their lives. Especially Vox. 

The sudden shift in your moods leaves you feeling strange, and for a second you have to remind yourself of who Vox really is and what he's done. What he's done to you. This feels too comfortable, especially with last night still being so raw. You can't help but admit your gratitude for it, a shred of normalcy feels nice, even if you knew it was only temporary. 

"Unless your aim is to poison me, you and I both know it'd be better to order something." 

Vox lifts his finger as if he's about to protest but then thinks better of it. "Alright... fine. You win. But you get to pick what we're eating. I don't even care if it's that shitty place down in the doomsday district. Though I'm still fucked to know why you like it." 

You're shocked he remembered the place you always had a preference for. There had been many a night where the two of you would end up pulling all nighters together to get the workload you had finished. Most of the times Vox would end up picking without your input, but the few times he did—and the even fewer times he agreed—you would always offer up the same suggestion. It's been so long since you had though, you're a bit shocked he remembered in any capacity. 

"Really? You hate that place." 

"I never said hate. Strong disgust isn't too far off though." His expression pulls into a sour one before smoothing back out. 

The sudden reminder of why you're here, of what you are to Vox, puts a bit of a bitter lens over this. 

"What about work?" You question quietly, your eyes focused on your lap. 

"Oh there's plenty to be done, but I think it's okay if we have a slightly later start to our day, hmm?" 

When you look up, he shoots you a grin that further spins your emotions out. 

You weren't asleep right now, this wasn't a dream, but this felt wrong. The events of the night still weigh heavily at the front of your mind, the physical reminders still pressed painfully into your skin. But Vox was being... 

What was Vox doing? 

You suppose Evan would do something similar, he'd put you through the worst pains of your life only to beg and attempt to buy back your forgiveness the next day. It was a violent whiplash every time it happened, your mind and body never quite being able to catch up with it all. It had broken you down to nothing, made you complacent but what other choice did you have if you wanted to survive? You never forgave him—you couldn't—but if you'd tried to deny him, it would only result in things worsening. You learned to take whatever Evan gave you, no matter if it was the violence or the rare kindness. You had no other choice. 

"Okay..." You agree quietly. 

His grin widens, his eyes brightening. It takes everything in you not to flinch away when he reaches his hand out to you. His thumb gently trails beneath your eyes, only now making you aware that you'd begun crying again. His eyes watch you with a strange emotion you're hopeless to name as he tenderly brushes your tears away. 

"There's my good Bee." 

After a moment he gets to his feet, extending a hand out to help you to yours. 

"I'll order the food, why don't you get in the shower. I'll join you in a minute." He says while gently ushering you towards the bathroom. 

You have no choice but to let him lead you there, not even desiring to push back on it. A shower did sound nice to you right now, you just wished you'd be able to remain alone while you did. 

The room he ushers you into looks like a clear extension of the bedroom, the color scheme and decor only shifting to suit the type of room. A giant shower takes up the entire back wall, glass doors enclosing the space. The back wall is made of white and grey marble, dark black grooves running through the design. The rainfall shower head spans the length of the ceiling, an illuminated pad on the doors allow for temperature control. It's so luxurious and makes you feel even more alien in the space. 

The tile below your feet is ice cold, sending a shock through your system. 

For a moment all you can do is simply stand in the middle of the room where Vox has left you. Your body freezes as you struggle to proceed with beginning the task by yourself. Your chest feels tight, tears burning at the back of your eyes. 

Why is a task as simple as moving your feet a short distance so impossible right now? 

How useless could you be if you couldn't follow a simple instruction? 

Vox will be so upset when he comes in here only for you to not have moved at all. But even as your mind wills your body to move, it just can't follow through with the command. 

You feel as if you're screaming out in your mind, begging to be able to do what you want and need to do. 

It shouldn't be this hard. 

Why was this so hard? 

"Blossom?" Vox's voice startles you from behind. 

He comes to stand in front of you, a look of concern crossing his expression. His eyes look you over from top to bottom before coming to rest on your face. His expression minutely softens. 

"Hey... you're okay. There's no need for tears. Let's get you into the shower doll, it'll help make things better." 

You almost miss the grimace he makes as he gently urges your tense body forward. Your body shakes with the effort but you don't protest. 

Vox stops before the doors, fingers quickly tapping away at the controls before the water begins to cascade down from the ceiling. You stare blankly at the floor as he strips behind you before opening the door and ushering you both inside. You allow Vox to move you about, your body following each of his small guiding touches as he moves to clean the both of you. He's shockingly gentle as he works shampoo into your hair, carefully avoiding your antennae as his claws gently massage it into your scalp. When he begins to rinse it he blocks the water from flowing into your eyes with his hand along your forehead, before he repeats the process with conditioner. 

He breaks the silence when he begins to scrub your body with a soapy wash cloth. 

"Bea... please say something. You're starting to scare me." His concerned tone feels like such a harsh juxtaposition to the flash backs of last night running through your head. 

Your eyes slowly shift to his, though your gaze remains unfocused and distant. 

"I'm sorry..." You whisper softly. "I'm fine." 

The water runs down Vox's screen, the droplets magnifying the digital pixels of his face. It reminds you of the bright neon lights of the city you grew up in when it rained. A specific drop catches your attention as it traces the side of it before catching on the edge of his screen, threatening its impending fall. 

Vox says something but it sounds like you're underwater. You don't even notice the change in his expression at your lack of reaction. 

Your surroundings become distant, your body detaching from itself as your brain puts you into a state of limbo within your thoughts and emotions. 

By the time you come back into awareness your sitting on the edge of Vox's bed dressed in one of his button up shirts, the fabric swallowing you with your considerable size difference. Vox is dressed in a pair of sweats and a loose V-neck shirt. He's crouched in front of you, one of his hands placed on each of your knees. 

You can feel the water drip from your hair down your neck and back. The sensation is uncomfortable but you can't bring yourself to care much about it. 

"Bea?"

Vox moves his hand in an abrupt motion towards your face and you can't help the way your entire body flinches away. 

"Please don't hit me!" You shriek despairingly, your hands moving to block your face as your body tries to move away. 

The worried expression on Vox's face grows stronger, his digital brows furrowing in serious concern. 

"I'm not." He answers dejectedly, his hand hovering in the air. "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay." 

There's a strange part of you that feels the need to reassure him, to ease his discomfort but you barely have the energy to form a verbal response. 

Something inside of Vox aches painfully at the realization of your damage running much deeper than your time here in Hell, a lingering human part of him he didn't really think still existed. 

His phone chimes on the nightstand drawing both of your attention away. He sighs before standing and walking over to it. 

"Food is here. I'm going to run down and get it, stay right here." 

Then he's gone, zipping through the tower's electrical system to get down to the ground floor. 

Your lungs heave with the effort of steadying your breathing, your eyes filling with fresh tears. Your surroundings don't feel real, the texture of the sheets feels wrong, objects looking off in ways you can't quite pin point. Even the air seems to contain a different quality than normal.

You collapse backwards on the sheets, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as you try to comprehend all that's happened. 

Was it really just a few days ago that you'd met Alastor? 

It hadn't even been a week and so much has happened. 

How was it only Friday? 

Your body feels as if you've been hit by a semi truck, pains unrelated to yesterday's ordeals popping up alongside it. Your muscles feel tight, as if they're containing feelings you've long since forgotten but your body hasn't. The weight of the whole world pushing down on your chest threatening your total collapse beneath it. 

"Bea." Vox's voice calls upon re-entry. 

You abruptly startle upright, your body subconsciously moving you backwards on the bed. 

"Sorry," you murmur sullenly. "I didn't hear you come back in." 

"Let's go eat in the kitchen." Is all he says before he's turning around, expecting you to follow suit. 

You force yourself to take another deep breath before rising onto unsteady legs to comply with his command. 

Each step you take feels like you're sinking further and further into quicksand, the very gravity of Hell threatening to bring you to your knees. 

Vox sets the bags on the table before moving to pull out a chair for you. He pushes it in carefully as your gaze zones out on the table in front of you. It sparks a sense of déjà vu from the coffee shop with Alastor. 

Vox is saying something to you as he lays the various take out containers on the table but despite hearing him, you don't process a single one of his words. When he opens one to place in front of you, the contents shock you enough to look up at him—something akin to a question in your gaze. 

"This is what you always order, isn't it?" Vox confidently inquiries. 

Your voice is barely audible as you respond. "It is." 

"If it's not to your tastes for any reason, I got a few other things to try." He says with a small flourish to the spread on the rest of the table. 

"Thank you." You say softly with a nod of your head in acknowledgment, even though the food in front of you makes your stomach curl. The thought of putting anything in your mouth right now causing a visceral reaction to bloom inside you. 

Still you can't afford to upset Vox by denying him. Your motions are mechanical as your plastic fork stabs through the food in front of you. 

A high pitched ringing echoes loudly in your ears alongside the thundering beat of your heart. Your hand shakes as you lift the fork to your lips. 

You don't know if it's intentional or not, but Vox decides this is the best moment to spring a request, or rather his next demand of you. He does so with what could be considered a malicious smile. 

"Tomorrow night you'll be joining me as my date to the gala. I've already arranged for Velvette to make your dress." 

Your stomach drops alongside your fork. 

~

Taglist: @lookingforsyd @daddymaster21 @fru1tbatzz @ohnoivefallen @pepperquiche @takemetoneverland420 @12cashmere @rapunzelbro @vvzhyxx @speedycoffeedelight @readingalldayeveryday