#Du'lie

[winterfieldfrontiers]

ALL POPULAR SLASH SHIPS FROM SM is here

[mybrainrotforreal]

Squid Game and The Devil in Me paralel

Okay, I know we see Hannigram on Inhun and I love them for it! But there's this  survival horror video game from 2022 called The Devil in Me and I see soooo many things that reminds me of Du'lie (Granthem Du'met and Charlie Lonnit)

1. Broke dudes with scruffy face that will do anything for money

2. Getting picked up by their lovers kidnappers with limousines

(The fact that Charlie and Gihun wear the same color of their jacket :")

3. Brought to an Island

4. The said kidnappers wearing mask

5. They were once law enforcements

6. They are the masterminds of sick games

7. They have Evil™ Control Rooms

8. Prolonged ✨️eye contact✨️ (with killing object between them ofc)

[itbeemincosplay]

hey sorry i tried to kill you can we make out behind the dennys

[redran6er]

" You stole my heart, and I want it back "

God I miss these two so much so I drew em! Also this will be used for my new youtube video as thumbnail hehe

[108garys]

Seared

so here it is, the previously unnamed Du'lie soulmate au

I went with the "first words" concept for how it could be played with in this context, it takes place during the game and I also wanted to see how it'd go to be like "oh no!" about the realisation of meeting your soulmate and this is very much "don't evil people deserve happiness too?" 😂

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @tatjana-fantasy @mybrainrotforreal @tinynightmarewoman @aydeenchan @qusok @unhingedlesbear @kindheartedgummybears @ctrvpani

warnings are: canon typical violence, blood, canon reinterpreted, obsessive serial killer stuff, medical stuff, dismemberment, the universe says so, nerve fire related to concept, everyone else is mentioned but they aren't making it out

I did abandon some further epilogue concepts because I felt the story ended where it needed to and anything after would just be extra

Also it has alternating povs

Charlie was destined to die alone.

As a boy he'd eagerly anticipated the appearance of the first words his soulmate would say to him, emblazoned proudly on his wrist as he comes of age… But none came.

He found himself suffocated in his youth. To be surrounded by, yet excluded from the obsessive nature of those who fixate on their 'one true love'… Even to the extent of excusing less than appealing words in advance…

But he'd built his own happiness.

He was married to the job, his employees his family. He'd roll his eyes at the concept and soldier on, he's got work to do after all…

When the call came through asking for him by name with an offer too good to be true…He should have known better.

…Charlie knew he was going to die alone but not here, not yet!

After settling into Du'met's castle he'd argued with his employees over creative decisions on the episode and the whereabouts of their host, then things had gone sideways… Topeka level sideways.

Erin was missing, Kate and Jamie were worried something terrible had happened to her but he'd dismissed it, too attached to the opportunity of a life time…

…And now Charlie stands on a pressure plate, a scythe rigged to drop… a man tied bellow it… He faced an unwinable choice: Move and the innocent groundskeeper dies. Stay and face the wrath of the masked man towering over him. The man, imposing in his HH Holmes inspired costume, held a blade to Charlie's face, the sharpened edge a hair's width from his nose.

The metal bars between them did little to calm him. Leaning back as far as he can from the small opening in the dividing wall as the groundskeeper pleaded, Charlie didn't know if he was nobel enough to keep his feet planted solidly on the pressure plate to save a complete stranger or if he was simply too terrified to move.

Jamie had retreated from his side and his eyes were glued to… Du'met? It had to be…

The masked man's eyes bore into him. Unreadable. The screams of the other, loud classical music and his own fear built up overwhelming him. Any words he might have said getting caught in his throat. Tears prick the edge of his eyes but he dare not move, "Please…" he finally managed in a small shaky voice before whatever else he intended to stammer out died on his tongue. God he was stupid, the groundskeeper's cries hadn't been heeded, what did he think he was going to accomplish-!?

-Du'met's other hand shot through the grate taking hold of Charlie's wrist, roughly tugging him towards him. Charlie instinctively grabbed the metal bars to steady himself and prevent movement off the plate. Ever mindful of the blade, now held a little further from him. He stifled a cry as his wrist was twisted painfully at odd angles, as if to inspect the words that never appeared. Charlie was going to die alone and even his killer would know that nobody loved him. Great. Three decades of denying that hurt and he felt humiliated, tears welling and cheeks burning, he was too on edge to stand here being judged over this… It was such an idiotic thing to waste his tears on-

Charlie stumbled back as his hand was released. The lights cut off. His pulse rung in his ears. The groundskeeper's blood curdling screams abruptly silenced.

"Take my hand." He'd forgotten about Jamie, he blindly reached for her, at least she hadn't fully abandoned him. They carefully shuffled towards the far wall until they found the lights but… They were alone? The groundskeeper and his assailant had vanished, leaving only a trail of blood… Charlie protectively held his wrist, his skin burning where the gloved hand had touched and panic was beginning to take root as Jamie lead him back to the lobby.

Predictably they were trapped. The front entrance barred and attempts to reach the others futile… With every new discovery his fear reaches new heights. He was certain that if he came into contact with that man again his heart would simply give out, depriving his host the satisfaction of taking his life.

It was a meaningless consolation when he found himself falling down a trap door…

***

There was a time when the single word represented hope…

That some angle would step into his life and make sense of it all, who would demonstrate kindness and care for him from the first word. It was an alien concept for him but that naive fairytale had died a long time ago.

The revelation that his person was short tempered, crass and merely said the word for fear of him was inconvenient and the sensation unbearable. The single word scrawled across his wrist burnt as if carved by hot knives. Granthem would be tempted to cut the damn thing out of his skin were it possible, he'd settle for inflicting this fire apon Charlie Lonnit… Even in the privacy of his own mind the name felt different. Right. His 'soulmate' was lost in the basement, it would be a simple thing to guide him into the furnace and be done with it…

He traced over the word etched into his wrist, eyes glued to the younger man who wandered aimlessly across his monitor.

"…Please…"

He was accustomed to hearing his victims beg but the single word scarred his psyche as surely as it had his flesh.

"Please."

He wanted to hear it again, wanted Charlie on his knees begging for his life, knowing this was fate.

"Please!"

Granthem's mind flooded with all the ways he'd draw the word from him like it was the only one he knew…

But no, he took a deep breath, He couldn't allow this matter to cloud his judgement, he'd already ruined the first trial, the burning sensation a distraction… The mild pity that crept in made him more certain of his decision as he made his way to the furnace. Their brief union would soon be concluded.

He couldn't afford another mistake…

***

Charlie was lost in the darkness… Steps echoing. Hand burning. His breath uneven and body sore from the fall… He felt out of his mind, jumping at every little sound… Eyes on every shadow…

He finds things, things he's not supposed to see… Learns things he was never supposed to know… This man… This monster, had been killing for decades and he felt drawn as he always was, to the truth, to the chill that runs down his spine… That people can be like this… His adult life and career ambitions driven by this… Feeling the knife's edge, starring into the abyss? What was he supposed to feel? A hundred cases, a hundred answers… He clutches his wrist as it burns, what the hell is happening to him!?

Dead end after dead end… His shoes clank on the metal grate running through the centre of the empty room with nothing but a pack of cigarettes and nothing to light them.

Foot steps echo on the basement floor…

The door shuts as Charlie turns, as he rushes towards it, trying to prevent himself being locked. Overwhelming terror mixes with a desperate need to survive as Du'met moves into view of the small slot in the door. Not again! He won't let it be like last time. Although his heart races a million miles a minute he's determined. This time he grabs the other man's hand. Holding on for dear life as he pulls as hard as he can in the desperate attempt to force the Du'met to open the door!

But he's having none of it. Charlie's face slams into the door as the stronger man jerks his arm back. Hitting the ground with a thud… Head spinning as he sits up… The slot closes… He fixes his glasses, searching for a way out… there must be… Something grabs his attention as he attempts to lift the grate.

There at the far end of the room, rising from the floor… A mannequin with a lighter?

Charlie pulls at the grate. His heart skips a beat as it budges, stops as the room bursts into flames. He can't breathe, can't stay calm as he tries to keep his head, throwing his all into this one chance to be wrong, to have a future. To deny fate.

He refuses to die alone.

***

He remains tense. The problem was dealt with, Charlie was burnt away to nothing and yet the pain still lingered. Had he been mistaken? Would the cursed mark forever burn like the 'love' he tossed to the flames? He tries to ignore it, Charlie Lonnit was nothing to him and he refuses to regret his actions…

Granthem gathered his guest's belongings, two were dead soon the others would follow. He needed to clear his head, disposing of the Lonnit crew's personal effects should serve as a suitable distraction…

He activated the crusher while these thoughts clouded his mind. This was unlike him. What did he expect? That his soulmate would fall into his arms and they'd live happily ever after… He'd heard that it often does happen that way but he wasn't so naive to think that they'd be anything but miserable but as each item fell he dwell in all the wrong places. He saw something in that man… A will to survive that wasn't entirely uncommon but it felt… Different. The way the man, pathetic during the first trial, had returned his earlier gesture… The dull pain in his shoulder vastly overshadowed by the fire lit by a single word to fall from the mouth of someone he should have been happy with… It was like his mother said. Any person doomed to be his was better off dying alone-

A sudden scream tears him from his introspection. He deactivates the grinder before he has a chance to process. Charlie! He's still alive? How!? The fire in his skin flared up as he peers over the edge… "Please! Please… You fucking bastard!" Charlie pleads between insults and pained sobs. This is explains it. His hand hovers over the button, he has a second chance at this. Kill him and be done with it… His hand remains a solidly an inch above the button. The begging continues, he grabs the control panel with his other hand, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm the fury building inside, at Charlie for insulting and defying him, at himself for allowing the man to do so, at the way his hand wouldn't budge. Is it possible that he was incapable of killing him?

He stepped back from the panel. Charlie would die in his own time, the job of disposal could wait… He turned to leave but the man's voice was intoxicating, he found himself climbing down to Charlie, to get a closer look. One of Charlie's feet was lodged firmly into the machine, he'll surely die if left unattended…

He stood there just out of reach. Watching. Charlie had become incoherent between pain and fear. Almost subconsciouslay Du'met thought about the syringe he keeps on his person, how it could be used to put Charlie under so he could be moved… He got closer assessing what he'd need to remove the younger man, he felt compelled…

Amputation. He'd need a tourniquet. Charlie's screams picked up with renewed intensity as Granthem touched him. The lower part of the leg was a loss. He was sure the Brit would pass out from his rapid breathing. The man's belt would be suitable. Granthem lent over Charlie, taken by surprise as the man's arms encircle him, clinging to him like a half drowned rat. He tries not to focus on the nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he undoes the belt… His collar wet with tears, the trembling mess beneath him too far gone to fear him any longer...

Charlie whimpers as he pulls away, binding the belt tightly to the damaged limb. Unsure of what came over him, he leans back in planting a soft kiss on Charlie's forehead as he injects the younger man. He couldn't kill him, but he could watch as those beautiful blue eyes grew heavier, how they dulled as they try to make sense of what was happening and eventually Charlie's body went limp. He held the still form of his soon to be lover, reluctant to leave… But the limb still needed attention. Gently laying him as flat as he could, Granthem took in the sight, taking hold of the affected limb.

Dishevelled, bloody… Beautiful.

He smiles as bones break in his grasp, a sickening crack and so much blood…

***

Charlie squinted against the blinding light. A distant steady beeping sound he couldn't place… His mind was hazy and he felt as though he was being pushed into the ground… Was he even in the ground? A bed? A table…? A shadow fell over him as something passed, metal on metal echos somewhere near his feet… Glasses? Charlie thought reaching for where they aught to be, except-

He couldn't?

He tried again slowly moving his numb limbs but was met with resistance followed by a soft clinking sound. The restraints irritated his wrist, even in this state he couldn't escape the feeling… He tried to make out the shape moving around him, a man? Who is that? He tries to speak but only got out soft mumbling sounds… The man stood over him. What is that beeping? Cool hands soothe his nerves, gently caressing his face, Charlie pressed against them, breathing a sigh of relief… Blinking slowly he focuses as hard as he could through bleary eyes, unable to think of a single person who would display this level of gentleness outside of his mother but she was very far away… He thinks the man has brown eyes but he couldn't be sure as a fresh wave of exhaustion washes over him, he just needed to rest his eyes… Just for a little while… The beeping grew harder to make out as he sunk into warm darkness…

***

Granthem Du'met stalked the halls with confidence in his stride. With Charlie stable and the others dying one by one, everything is right in the world. Better than he thought they could be. He is certain he saw love in Charlie's eyes after he'd finished operating, even if it would take the man time to understand it…

He watched as the remaining crew danced to his tune, oblivious to the good news, Kate Wilder sat mourning for people who were dead and some who weren't and Mark Nestor gave a commendable performance… All the while they remain unsuspecting… He would correct his counter once they were gone… He would let the new guests settle in and soon, very soon, he'd have the happiness denied him for far too long.

He enjoyed one last look of terror as he pulled the trigger. Tying off the lose ends and making certain no can interfere with his happiness…

***

Charlie came to in a dark room... A single dim lamp the only source of light, casting strange shadows… It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone, Du'met stood in the corner like one of his damned mannequins, eyes never leaving him. Charlie shuddered at the unnatural way the light play across his mask, lighting up his dark eyes…

The man strides over, closing the distance. He stops by Charlie's bedside, smoothing his hair with his bare hands. It felt somehow perverse as his warm skin gently skim over his own. Charlie hadn't believed his hoast capable of such an intimate gesture…

Charlie struggled to prop himself up as the tall man withdrew, leaving him alone in the strange room. His eyes adjust to the darkness as he puts on his glasses. Shocked to find he is at home in his own bed, in his own room, but no… The wallpaper in his apartment looks nothing like this and yet it is his room with his things… What was Du'met playing at? Did he empty out his home just to prove he could?

He frowns as the light is turned on, Du'met returns with a tray, Charlie doesn't even care what's on it. He tenses as the tray is sat on his bedside table, he stares directly into the other man's eyes watching as he assess him, moving to sit on the bed-

Charlie takes them both by surprise as a snatches a knife from the tray and throws his weight towards the other man as hard as he can, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

He steadies his shaking, his body feels wrong, different, as he sits atop his would be killer and the man does nothing… Why won't he do anything!? Charlie tears off the man's mask, knife in hand and the other man calmly looks up at him… Why did he feel like he was in the wrong and not this monster? He held the sharpened blade to the man's throat, unable to process and again unable to move… A thin line of blood trickled from the shallow cut and Charlie was gasping for breath. What's wrong with him!? Why can't he just- He flinches as his hand was taken, the knife uselessly dropped to the floor… He looked down not truly comprehending his missing limb as Du'met's other hand stretched out before him, a single word emblazoned on his wrist in a way that immediately made sense… 'Please' his own word thrown back as if the mere act of presenting it was akin to repeating it…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Charlie slumped forward having overdone it. This is his soulmate? He couldn't think straight as he was gently scooped back into bed… It must be a lie but… No, he could feel the truth of the matter… He was tucked in as exhaustion crept inside of him, he'd heard once that every thing a person does slowly drives them towards their person…

He thought he was better than that, that his passions had nothing to do with anyone but himself.

He let out an involuntary chuckle at the irony that his love of true crime had driven him into the arms of a serial killer who can't kill him… Of all the ways to prove him wrong, fate had picked the cruellest.

Some part of him accepted these facts as he drifted off… Engulfed by pleasantly warm darkness. Again.

***

Time stretched on as a new normal settled over the castle… Charlie's recovery was of utmost importance, he was moved to a wing inaccessible by outsiders, given anything to make him more comfortable with his situation. Once Granthem was committed to the truth of their connection he became cautious of messing up, at worst he'd have an unwilling prisoner in a stalemate to protect everything he'd built…

He would show him they could be happy. He helped him every step of the way as he learned how to walk on new legs, to see with new eyes… He even gave his friends a proper burial to make things easier. Charlie taught him sign language, his mother had insisted he learn just in case…

He wondered what it was like to have a mother that cared about his happiness…

As Charlie grew more competent he became more comfortable with the arrangement and today he stands unassisted in the lobby, both feeling a lifetime older than when he arrived, he leans against the wall under the counter '0200', looking up at the completed goal before looking to the man across from him. Granthem waits, unmasked and at ease for the man to speak.

"What's next for us?" he asks with his arms folded over his chest, he doesn't wait for an answer as he steps forward. "I don't want to stay here forever," he shakes his head adding, "I love to travel, now that you've reached your goal I'd love to get out there again."

Charlie smiles softly, sensing the other man's worry. "You're basically retired now, don't you want to see the world with me? ...or at least go on holiday for a little while?" he waited for an answer, Granthem had never thought of his life after reaching his goal, never considered that he could simply be happy. He nods, signing "I won't be parted from you, love." as he closes the gap, embracing his person. Charlie rubs his back, continuing. "I don't expect you to give up your hobbies so long as you keep me in the loop, if ever that old itch returns we'll discuss the best way to deal with it, love." He felt as if he was the one with missing limbs as Charlie took his face and kissed him, he'd never felt such peace in all his life and he knew this was how it was supposed to be, Charlie keeps his hands clean while he revels in the excitement and Granthem knows full well that he has it in him to cross that line and that in of itself excites him. Charlie pulls away as his phone rings, one of the many little freedoms he'd been allowed, Du'met watches him as he speaks to his mother on speaker. She knows about them, or at least a more palatable version of them. As far as she knows Charlie lost his leg in a car accident after they eloped and he'd nursed him back to health, maybe one day they'd make the marital part factual… To say say he was in Pam's good books would be an understatement and now he wonders if he'll actually meet her one day, a real loving mother so unlike his own…

He instinctively held Charlie's hand, ready to face whatever comes next so long as they were together.

[stefan-aigner]

[gay-trains]

So I am a little bit obsessed.

My best friend and I played the devil in me or well she played I helped with some of the decisions. And I stumbled upon this ship and got hooked and infected my bestie with it too now. While we did our second playthrough yesterday to try to save everyone this time, I sketched this. I don't do fanart often mind you, It almost never happens. Usually when I like a piece of media I will create my own story inspired off it, which will change and evolve till it doesn't resemble the original all that much anymore. I did make my own masked murderer based on du'met but I doubt anyone wants to see that here. But....you might enjoy THESE I made! XD perhaps I will even do more, who knows

[maria-rayro]

[ryeguns]

butcher/slaughterhouse au?

[mia-cot]

scared kitten

And I immediately remembered about @lonnitamongus ehehe your avatar is here))

I can almost hear him drawing air into his lungs

WELL... HE IS HUGE (as usual, though)

He let the policeman lean on him, how humane

extra

[tdpawhore]

Okay so I was gonna write a fic base off this drawing I did but I really can't be bothered atm but here have the drawing I did for it.

(I will let you uses your imagination on this one👀)

[mybrainrotforreal]

I like my men tied up to the fence

[somewhereinthepines]

lil thing that went nowhere lol.

a/n : this is the very first, tiny draft of my du'lie fic. basically, i was just trying to figure out how i wanted to present the story and such. it didn't fit anywhere in the fic in the end, but it's still fun to think about what might have happened, if it would have been included.

————–

No, no, no no! Please — oh God — oh fuck, please no!  

Charlie is on the verge of a full-blown panic. His mind racing, and his heart goes into overdrive as he fruitlessly darts from one end of the room to another, hands scrambling against the wall, like he can possibly find some secret exit, a handle, a passage, anything, that can be used as a way out. 

But there is nothing. Just wallpaper, just wood, just an obstacle that he cannot psychically overcome or do anything with. There is no way out this time. He cannot escape what will come next. His higher brain understands it with dreadful probability, but his animal one, retches and wrestles, and howls in pure desperation. He has to — he has to get the fuck out! 

“Pl-please…” he stutters under his breath, fingers spalling and searching, as a dying hope still curling under his chest-bone. “Not like t-this…please, not – I don’t —” 

He’s not ready. 

He’s so painfully not ready to die, that whatever else doesn't seem to matter much. He feels, that if he will survive just a bit longer, that he would be able to look past anything. His failing business, his loneliness, the growing amount of unpaid debt. He will be able to withstand anything, if he will be able to make it out alive. 

Nothing changes, though. The wall is just a wall, and he’s stuck in the end of the hallway, with the killer just a couple yards away from him. Waiting and watching him struggle, wrenching around like a cornered rat. It must be so hilariously ungraceful and dumb-looking from Du’Met’s view. 

Eventually, out of breaths and ideas, Charlie stops. Both of his palms are pressed against the wall, as he shivers, barely able to swallow a pitiful whimper of horror. He’s going to die. He’s going to be pinned to a wall, like a damn taxidermy animal, he’s — 

Behind him the wooden floorboard creak, violated by adding weight. Charlie flinches with his whole body, and goes absolutely still, any thoughts cut short. 

Du’Met. He’s here. Right behind him. Charlie can literally feel his presence now. The hair on his neck stands at its ends, and his skin feels clammy, blistering with sweat. Like he’s having an especially nasty nightmare or a high-strung fever. 

The wrongness of this whole situation nearly sways him off his unbending, shaking legs, but he forces himself to remain vertical and slowly peer over his shoulder. And yea, Du’Met is right there, at the end of the hallway, staring him down, hands seemingly empty, but it does very little to make Charlie feel better. 

He can still have a knife inside his pocket. Or he might want to finish Charlie off in some other grizzle fashion. He’s still a threat, even if unarmed. 

The older man doesn’t even dare to blink, holding that heavy, scrutinizing gaze with the best of his ability. He wasn’t sure why Du’Met wasn’t attacking him yet. Why was he just standing there without any clear intention, when he could easily murder Charlie right here. Lack of clear intentions, did nothing, but unnerved him further. 

But he has to do something. This might be his only chance to survive. 

Slowly, like he was afraid to trigger a response, Charlie turned around, giving up on an attempt to somehow pry his way through the wall. It was of no use. There wasn’t any means to escape this way. 

Du’Met wasn’t doing anything at all. He was just looking at him, eyes cold and calm behind the holes of his mask. Charlie, in comparison, was barely holding his remaining sanity together. He was completely dumbstruck with what he had to do here. Should he say something? Should he plead and hope, that it will work again? 

Somehow, he doubted that it would. It felt, like that one time was simple luck. Perhaps, Du’Met just felt like letting him go back then, but it won’t happen again. He was sure of it. 

“I’m —” his jaw locked and opened, but barely any coherence could be formed, when he was this nervous. What could he even tell him, anyway? That if he let him leave, then he’s…? He’s what? 

Either tired of waiting or Charlie’s general uncertainty, Du’Met walked closer, stance laid-back, steps well-measured and unhurried. Charlie pressed his back even further into the wall, hiking his shoulders up, as if in a defensive position. 

“D-don’t.” he grunted out, eyes wide and whole form shaking. “Please…don’t d-do this.” 

Du’Met naturally didn’t say anything back. Not that Charlie expected him to, but his eyes slightly lidded and then, he did something very bizarre. Instead of advancing forward some more, he slowly stretched his arms in front of him, before flipping them up, demonstrating empty hands.

Charlie peered at him. At his face, at his open latex palms, then back to his face. He did it at least four times, before succumbing to proper confusion. If Du’Met wanted him to get something from this, he clearly didn’t succeed. 

“Uh, I don’t…?” he made a helpless half-gesture, attempting to articulate, that the other man might need to be more direct with his intention. Charlie was completely oblivious of what this was supposed to mean. Let alone any way to read it.

What the hell was this? An indication that he came with peace? 

The thought was so absurd, that Charlie let out a hysterical snort, which made Du’Met tilt his chin a bit lower, brows most likely furrowing behind the mask. Did he — 

Oh god….

“N-no. No. I – I wasn’t laughing at you!” he quickly assured, stumbling upon his thoughts, and half-baked ideas of how to use this stalemate to his advantage. “I just don’t — I don’t understand what you are trying to say.” 

Du’Met lowered his arms, letting them rest against his sides. Charlie forgot how to breathe. Did he upset him? Was this his only leeway? Did he screw it up by speaking? 

The killer side-stepped to the left, freeing some more space in between himself and the hallway. Then, he over-politely gestured to the empty passage there, as if offering Charlie to take the opportunity and leave this way. 

He started to understand it then. His stomach sank. 

“Oh.” 

The only way to leave the deadend was to go back to where he came from, but to do so, he would need to pass past Du’Met. To walk right next to him, when there is barely an arm length, that would separate them from one another. A shiver shot up his spine just from this notion alone. Charlie shook his head, as if in denial. 

This can’t be the only way. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t stupid enough to walk right to the person, who could and would hurt him, if he sees so fit. It was crazy to even consider this, but then again, what other options did he have? He couldn’t break through the wall, and there was no window to attempt and leave this way, so…the hallway. 

It was his only way out. 

A way out, that was currently half-occupied by Du’Met. 

Out of all the horrible things, that happened to him today, this was surely the most horrifying one. Before, there always was a small passage, a chance for him to escape and outsmart the other, but now, there was no choice at hand. There was no side-path, just a dreadful way forward. 

But why? Why design it like this, when he could just mess Charlie up, where he stood? He didn’t even have to be smart or tricky about it. Deep down, Charlie knows why, though. 

He wants me to be terrified. That’s why he does this. 

It often was about control with these kinds of people. Perhaps, he wanted to control, where Charlie went and how he did it. Compared to all other times, when Charlie's ability to survive despite the odds was something, that Du’Met failed to expect. It was clear from the light surprise inside his eyes, when he stumbled upon Charlie in the garden. 

He wasn’t foreseeing this to happen. Du’Met most likely assumed, that Charlie was dead, when in fact, he was still alive and kicking. He wasn’t able to control how exactly the older man handled these situations. He thought, that he had it in his pocket, the second Charlie walked into these traps. They all were designed to kill him, after all. 

But that’s the kicker, they didn’t. After a few hours stuck in here, Charlie was still alive and in one piece. It must have been troubling for the other male to process. Being stripped of his main advantage by some commoner or whatever he depicted him as. But this instance was different. 

This, Du’Met will be able to control. Fully. Without any real unknown challenges. 

And what he's to do now...?

[redran6er]

Super quick kinky doodle of Du'met and Charlie

[108garys]

Workaholic

For Hector's birthday I am again returning to "the perfect shot" au, in which Hector remains with the FBI long enough to be given a new task, watching Charlie in the aftermath of his involvement in hoa after his move to America. File this under me writing Hector in a way that makes me want to hit him with a news paper, Charlie too but he has a better excuse so yeah, Heclie but Hector literally trips over the finish line, straight up "it's not stalking if I get paid for it" and a lot of poor Charlie, I forgive your life choices because the way you are in this polished up wip is certainly not as bad as you are in writings I've done while this was on a shelf

Hope y'all enjoy 💕

May 31st, 2004

Special Agent Hector Munday had always been a bit of a workaholic. Diligently he examines every seemingly insignificant detail of a given case. His therapist claimed it was obsessive but how can it be a flaw when doing so took dangerous criminals off the street? Hector's work was very important and it deserved nothing less than his full attention…

In mid 03' he was assigned a very different task, something a little more low stress than he was used to but the stakes were no less important… He would not be tracking down a dangerous criminal and bringing them to justice, in fact the tracking was less seeking and more stalking for he'd know the man's location since day one- Not that Hector was stalking him! …it was his job to keep tabs on the aspiring director, lest he reveal classified information.

Charlie Lonnit, 30, was his assignment, the London born documentarian had been in the states for just under a year now, pursuing his dreams of make a name for himself in the industry but struggling to make necessary connections in a new place… The Brit was a workaholic too, Hector observed. It was the anniversary of Lonnit's highly classified time in Iraq. He had been coming to this bar more frequently in the lead up and Munday couldn't risk a drunken error changing the nature of his task. Charlie wasn't a dangerous man by any means but he carried dangerous secrets that must stay buried…Even if he must also be put in the ground in the process…

Hector found himself slowly sipping what had now become a regular order in his quiet corner of an unremarkable bar as he discreetly kept an eye on Charlie, not Charles, he hated being called that, over at the bar… Some may argue that his research went beyond what was strictly necessary but as far as Agent Munday was concerned the more he knew the easier it would be to catch subtle changes in behavior.

Hector was on edge watching some random sleeze getting a little too invasive for his liking, usually he wouldn't think Charlie was the type to go for that but these are unusual times… he'd be lying if he denied a level of possessiveness over the idea of him going home with the guy but for all he knows the combined factors could prompt Lonnit into committing a serious crime. Special Agent Munday was a professional after all.

So when the man's unwelcome touch travels a little too far his liking, Hector did something very stupid… He found himself approaching, "Is this guy bothering you?" He said with the casual air of an uninformed bystander, having convinced himself of the other man's threat, "What the fuck do you want?" The other man looked up, in disbelief at his audacity until Hector, against his better judgement, handed off just enough cash to turn the man's head. "I'm sure you have better places to be." he confidently asserts and the man complies with an air of confusion. Hector takes the now empty seat and Charlie stares at him having seen this stranger pay off the other guy. Taking a moment to consider his next move…

Hector had heard Charlie's voice uncountable times… on tapes, audio of secret things where he's trying to maintain his composure, trying to explain himself near tears as he's given an ultimatum… warmth as he calls his mother at a specific time that works for the difference in timezone, at least twice a week, his current tone was somewhere in the middle, a certain level of polite caution. "You're a regular here aren't you?" as far as Charlie knew, Hector had been in here everytime he's visited the less than stellar establishment. "It's a stone's throw from my place, it's as good as any." it wasn't an out right lie but Hector wouldn't come here willingly without a reason.

Charlie adjusted his glasses looking him over and Hector's skin felt like static under the unexpected attention, suddenly regretful now that he was no longer fixated on the possibility of the other man… he should excuse himself and continue doing his job at the appropriate distance, but… Hector was diligent about his work and looking into his eyes… The way his own face looked reflected across the younger man's glasses.

He had Charlie's full attention.

He not so reluctantly stayed put, he couldn't help it… listening to him speak like he had for the past year. He tried to listen more than he spoke, the more he speaks the more he'd risk mentioning something he shouldn't… Eventually Charlie got onto the subject of his documentarian dreams and his fascination with serial killers and what makes them tic, he said he wasn't sure why he felt drawn to true crime. It was a coping mechanism after what he faced in Iraq, he needed to rationalize the darker parts of the world to feel safe, it made sense to Hector even if Charlie didn't do it consciously…

He couldn't turn his brain off, trying to analyse every little detail, Charlie leaned closer to him, Hector's dark eyes looked predatory reflected in Charlie's soft blue ones… His focus so singular that he'd barely noticed that he'd allowed his hand to wonder, far past the boundaries of what a complete stranger should dare. he quickly withdrew it not wanting to make Charlie uncomfortable but-

Charlie grabbed his hand, Hector felt like the young man just didn't want to be alone, everyone else who knew what he'd been through was far away… Everyone he could confide in was involved in a conspiracy to keep that hurt buried… They sat in silence for beat, before Charlie kissed him. Hector pulled back in surprise before he could process the sudden contact, Charlie's face flushed bright with embarrassment. His eyes wide, likely wondering how he had misread the previous touch. "I- I'm so-" sorry? Hector opened his mouth to explain but Charlie rushed out before he could. What was he thinking!? Hector payed for both their drinks before following, his stupidity is getting expensive.

He found him out front, trying to light a smoke, becoming visibly upset as his lighter refused to cooperate. Charlie turned with the cigarette between his lips, the redness in his face betraying him. Hector fishes his lighter out of his pocket stepping closer, he lit up his own before sharing the flame with the younger man. Charlie looked away, relaxing slightly as smoke escaped into the night…

Hector ignored that it was entirely inappropriate to know that although it wasn't when he started smoking, his trauma related to his time as a military journalist had solidified his habit into something he depended on…

The silence stretches awkwardly, it begins to rain…

He felt like he should explain but his own reaction was much more of a mystery than Charlie's, all neat and categorized through careful observation. He felt words would fail him, that even if Charlie really did just want a distraction he could do that… He approaches again, much more deliberately, with clarity of purpose…

He was passionate about his work.

-- June 1st, 2004

Hector's therapist had advised against taking his work home, it was unhealthy she said, but as Charlie's form rose and fell in soft sleep he knew she was wrong… Charlie had slept with a light on every night since his trip to hell, as had all the survivors, Hector left his bedside lamp on hoping Charlie wouldn't think too much about it.

This was uncharted territory, learning so much that had previously been beyond his reach… The way Charlie's skin felt, how he clung to him like he's the only thing between him and that place Hector only knew through reports… Very many other things… New information, mentally filed away. It was… educational.

Hector's hand ran over long inhuman claw marks that scarred Charlie's hip, imaging what it must have been like, how terrifying those creatures must have been… He refrains from sliding any further as Charlie began to stir, slowly rolling over to look at him. He smiles sleepily, accepting as Hector offers to make him coffee.

A shortly after Hector is again in his head, wondering if things will go back the way they were now that his… Now that Lonnit had gotten through the anniversary, they should. It could never work. He distracted himself with the task at hand, listening to the sound of the shower down the hall, he turns on the radio to the classical station to distract himself. He wouldn't bring it up first, that would make him look like an ass… What the hell is wrong with him!?-

"I hope you don't mind, my stuffs still in the dryer." Hector turns to Charlie, wearing one of his shirts… He absentmindedly handed over a cup of coffee… It was far too large, hanging off him in a way that- Hector looked away, grabbing his own mug and drinking, before he turned back with a smile. "No no, it's fine, it was my fault you got wet in the first place." Charlie smirks, Hector clears his throat, trying not to blow his cover… Or look like an actual idiot. "So, what's with the scar?" he sees Charlie's expression fall, clearly blindsighted despite the obvious likelihood that it would come up, Hector quickly spoke up again. "I understand if it's too sensitive a subject." Charlie nods, relived, looking away. "Yeah." he says drinking his coffee, still greatly affected by what he'd been through.

He was supposed to say he'd had a close call on a hiking trail a few years back… That was the 'official' story given to him but this was the first time he's actually been in a situation where it'd come up.

Hector retroactively decided this was a test… He couldn't have Charlie floundering and potentially slipping up with other men, it was a matter of confidentiality… He looks at him, at the way the morning sun hits his face just right, his glasses framing his features perfectly… He wanted to see him wearing more of his clothes, wanted to be in on the secret irony that the man who had survived vampires loved the feeling of his teeth… Wanted to feel his warmth and leave more marks on him…

He moved to grab things from his pantry, barely thinking about it as he begins to make breakfast to prolong the time Charlie stayed in his presence, thinking of the right words to convince him to do this again. It would be much more efficient to keep tabs on him this way…

After all, Hector Munday was a workaholic and Charlie Lonnit was his job.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @tinynightmarewoman

@eframschweigersskincells @aydeenchan @mybrainrotforreal @unhingedlesbear

@kindheartedgummybears @blubary

I thought it was fun to cross out Information hector definitely shouldn't know, like its a denial of his actual behaviour, I hope it's as fun to read lol

[stefan-aigner]