#and the constant paranoia and vigilance

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

anyway. gillions hair is the texture of green algae and he bites things and has a big fatty muscular fish tail and when he switches from breathing with his gills to breathing with his lungs he has to empty all the water out through his mouth and its really gross and hes got claws and scratches things by accident a lot and hes not a very good singer but he does it anyway and pretzel is a therapy animal and his corals will bleach if he doesnt take care of them so they start going pale if he gets sick/hurt and his skin is sort of rubbery and he eats raw fish straight from the ocean with his teeth and he is deeply deeply superstitious and sorta paranoid and on guard 101% of the time because of how he was raised and hes gullible and dumb sometimes but hes not stupid hes just out of his element

[mssalo]

safety - Part: I

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Joel needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

4k

Enjoy!

Part II Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller wasn’t the type of man who sought peace or ease.

He’d spent too many years living a different kind of life-one built around routines of survival, discipline, and a level of alertness that never quite faded.

Now, back in Texas, he carried that constant vigilance like a second skin.

He’d settled in a small, secluded home just outside of Austin.

The area was quiet, isolated, the kind of place where nobody asked too many questions.

The locals respected boundaries, and Joel had made his clear. He kept to himself, lived a simple life, and preferred things that way.

People complicated things—something he wasn’t interested in anymore.

Most of his days followed a routine that he clung to with the same intensity he had in the service.

Early mornings were spent with coffee and silence, the smell of pine trees drifting through the windows of his old, weathered cabin.

Afterward, he'd take to the woods, either hunting or just walking trails he knew as well as the lines in his hands.

Out there, he could let his mind focus on something tangible—the tracks of a deer, the feel of the rifle in his hand.

There, his senses sharpened again, always on alert.

Joel’s awareness never dulled, not even after all these years.

Every noise, every shift in the wind or crunch of leaves beneath his boots, kept him on edge.

He was always scanning his surroundings, ready to react.

He knew it wasn’t just about the hunt.

It was the way his brain had been wired, after all the years of needing to be ready—whether it was for survival or something worse.

It wasn’t paranoia, just the reality of a mind that had been trained for danger. He told himself.

He didn't see many people. He didn’t want to.

But the thing about always being on edge was that it left little room for rest.

At night, the memories clawed their way in—images he’d rather forget but couldn’t.

Sleep was shallow and rare.

Even when he managed to drift off, he was often jolted awake by some phantom noise or sensation.

And once he was up, it was hard to shake the feeling that something or someone was out there.

He’d get up, check the locks, sometimes even patrol the perimeter of his land just to make sure.

In the quiet of his cabin, with only the crackling of a fire or the hum of the wind for company,

Joel would pour himself a drink.

Whiskey, usually. Something to dull the noise in his head, to take the edge off the constant tension that never quite left him.

But he never drank too much. He couldn’t afford to. He needed to stay sharp, always ready—just in case.

His life wasn’t complicated, and he liked it that way. He didn’t need company or connection, not anymore.

He kept things simple: survival, routine, and the solitude of the Texas wilderness.

It asked nothing of him, and in return, he didn’t have to share the parts of himself he’d buried long ago.

· · ─────

Waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat had become part of his routine, and after tossing and turning for hours, Joel would get up, make coffee, and try to focus on the small tasks that anchored him.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Joel Miller pushed the key into the ignition of his truck, the familiar rumble beneath him a small comfort in an otherwise uneasy world.

He had always been an early riser, but lately, the habit had turned into more of a necessity.

Driving out into the quiet Texas morning was one of those tasks.

The roads were mostly empty, and Joel preferred it that way—less to watch for, less noise, fewer things to trust.

He liked things simple.

Routine. Predictable.

After everything, it was easier to stick to what he knew, to keep the world at arm's length.

It was safer.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his eyes flicked from side to side, scanning the road ahead and the landscape around him.

There was no telling who or what could be out there, even in a sleepy Texas town.

He wasn’t stupid enough to let his guard down, not after everything he'd seen.

Trust was a currency he couldn’t afford to spend, not anymore.

He kept the radio off, preferring the silence. It gave him space to think, to process.

Most of the time, though, it just made him more aware of the quietness around him.

Every little creak or snap of a twig was magnified, every shadow cast by the rising sun something to take note of.

He didn't trust the peaceful exterior of the world anymore.

Too much could change in an instant.

It was exhausting, always being on edge like that, but Joel had learned to live with it.

He couldn’t imagine doing things any other way.

As he drove further down the road toward the camping&outdoor supply store, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the distance—a flicker of motion between the trees.

His heart quickened, and his foot instinctively lifted off the gas pedal.

He slowed down just enough to check the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the tree line.

Nothing. It could’ve been an animal, but Joel’s mind didn’t let him settle on that.

Even when he convinced himself it was probably just wildlife, he remained alert, tension rippling through his muscles.

"Could be anything," he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter. "Ain't takin' chances."

The camping store was a bit of a drive, but Joel didn’t mind.

The solitude of the open road helped him clear his head, as much as his thoughts would let him, anyway.

Hunting was something he could still rely on.

He didn't need anyone else for it, and it gave him an excuse to get away from people.

He wasn’t much for conversation these days, always keeping interactions short and transactional.

He liked the supply store too; the guy who ran it knew not to ask too many questions, just handled the sale and let Joel be.

It suited him fine.

As the store came into view, Joel exhaled, his mind already running through what he needed to pick up.

The truck tires crunched against the gravel as he pulled into the lot, parking in a spot that allowed him a clear view of the entrance and the surrounding area.

Old habits.

Joel turned off the ignition and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to observe the store.

His hand absentmindedly reached toward the glove compartment, where his gun was stashed, just in case. He didn’t need it often, but knowing it was there kept him grounded.

After a few seconds of scanning the area and feeling satisfied that nothing was amiss, he stepped out of the truck.

The supply store wasn’t busy, just a couple of people browsing inside.

As Joel stepped into the store, the familiar scent of leather and canvas greeted him. Country music hummed low in the background, and the quiet atmosphere brought him a sense of calm.

The simplicity of the place was something he appreciated—straightforward, nothing complicated.

Just the way he liked it.

His boots thudded softly on the wooden floor as he made his way toward the back, scanning the shelves for the hunting gear he needed. It was his routine, one he kept to himself.

The sudden crash jolted him like a gunshot.

Joel’s instincts took over, his body reacting before his mind caught up.

His hand flew to his side, fingers brushing the handle of the knife he always kept on him. His eyes darted around the store, scanning for threats, muscles coiled tight and ready.

He felt that old familiar rush of adrenaline—the kind that came from years of having to be on guard every second.

His heart pounded, the edges of his vision sharpening as he prepared for the worst.

But then, he saw her.

Just a girl. Bending over, trying to gather the gear she’d knocked to the floor. No threat. No danger. Just her.

Joel exhaled slowly, the tension easing out of his shoulders as the world settled back into place.

He let go of the knife, though his pulse still hammered in his ears. He hadn’t been expecting someone like her to trigger that reaction. Not here. Not now.

But for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

She was clumsy, but calm—no panic, no rush to fix what she’d done.

It was as if she was used to things slipping from her hands, not bothered in the slightest. That softness, that ease, it drew him in like nothing else had in a long time.

And even though the tension from the noise had faded, he found himself still rooted to the spot, watching her.

His eyes trailed over her, catching the way her long, soft looking, hair tumbled down her back, how her tender fingers fumbled with the items before her.

She was a mess of soft edges, and he hadn’t seen anything that soft in years.

He’s not used to that.

His world had become hard, sharp, filled with things that made sense, with people who didn’t get too close.

People like him, always on edge, always prepared.

She stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and for the first time, Joel saw her face.

Young. Too young. Early twenties, maybe.

Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, her lips parted in what looked like mild embarrassment as she glanced around at the mess she had made.

But it was her eyes that hit him the hardest.

Doe eyed, wide, bright, completely unguarded.

So easy to read.

She looked right at him, her gaze catching his, and Joel’s breath hitched in his chest.

What was this girl doing? Looking at him like that?

She wasn’t supposed to look at him that way—not with that kind of openness, that kind of… trust.

Her blush deepened as her gaze flickered to the ground, but not before Joel saw it creep up her neck, warming her face.

She was blushing because of him.

When was the last time that happened?

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, her voice light, soft, but not the irritating kind of soft.

It was smooth in a way that made something settle in Joel’s chest. Normally, he hated small talk.

People’s voices grated on him. But hers didn’t.

Her voice wrapped around him, warm and gentle, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Joel didn’t hate it.

“I didn’t see you there,” she continued, letting out a nervous laugh, her hands brushing against the fallen gear.

“I swear, I’m always knocking things over.” She smiled shyly, that blush still clinging to her cheeks, and Joel’s chest tightened again.

She was yapping—just rambling on in a way that would’ve made him turn his back on anyone else. But he couldn’t move.

He was locked in place, listening to her soft, musical voice as if it was something he hadn’t heard in years.

Maybe because it was. Maybe because no one ever talked to him like this anymore.

Most people avoided him.

They saw the hard set of his jaw, the cold glint in his eyes, and they stayed far, far away.

And that was just how he liked it. Less mess, less trouble.

But not her. She was still standing there, babbling about how clumsy she was, her voice a soft hum in his ears.

Joel felt something shift inside him, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He didn’t know her.

Shouldn’t care about her babbling, or the way her scent—something fresh and sweet—drifted toward him, making his head swim.

But here he was, standing there, drinking in her voice, her scent, like he hadn’t been around anyone like her in years.

Which, to be fair, he hadn’t.

Joel cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak, though his voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he muttered, his words gruff, but his feet still rooted to the spot.

Her smile widened, and her eyes lit up.

The warmth in them caught him off guard. He wasn’t prepared for that.

“Thanks for not laughing at me,” she said with a small, bashful laugh, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her jacket. “Most people would’ve.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “Why would I laugh?”

She shrugged, glancing at the gear still scattered on the floor. “I’m kind of a mess.”

Her words didn’t sit right with him. How could someone like her—someone so soft, so full of light—call herself a mess? He is a mess.

But before he could respond, she smiled again, her lips curving up in that sweet way that made his chest tighten all over again.

And that scent… God, he couldn’t place it, but it clung to her, swirling around him like a warm blanket.

His mind raced, cataloging every little detail about her.

Her soft pretty eyes. The way her smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle just a little. The way she smelled, like fresh air and something sweet. Vanilla?

He was reading her, studying her like he used to study his surroundings, picking up on every detail.

But none of it made sense. She didn’t make sense.

Normally, he’d be long gone by now. His thoughts already moving on.

But she was still talking, still smiling up at him, and instead of walking away, he just… stared.

She cleared her throat again, glancing down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“Do you work around here?” she asked, her voice a little softer now, a little shyer.

Joel blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing in what felt like minutes.

He shook his head. “Nah, just pickin’ up some things.” His voice sounded foreign to him—rough, cold, not at all the kind of tone that matched the warmth she was giving him.

But she didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her lips curving up in that smile again.

“Oh, cool. What are you picking up?”

Joel stared at her, unsure of why she was still talking to him, still smiling at him.

But he found himself answering her anyway. “Just some gear. Hunting stuff.”

Her eyes brightened, her smile widening even more. “Oh, hunting! That’s cool. I’ve never been, but I always thought it seemed kind of… peaceful, you know? Just you and nature.”

Peaceful? Joel had never thought of hunting as peaceful. Necessary, sure. But peaceful? Not in the way she was describing.

He grunted, not sure how to respond, but she just kept smiling, her voice still light, still soft.

“Oh, gosh,” she said, standing up with a bundle of fallen gear in her hands, a sheepish smile on her face. “I could never hurt an animal, though. I don’t know how people do it. Like, I get hunting and all, but... me? No way. I’d be useless out there.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, still caught between the sharp edge of his earlier reaction and the softness of her voice.

“Right,” he muttered, nodding slightly, feeling more awkward than he had in years.

“Well,” Joel grunted, his voice a little rougher than intended, “it ain’t about enjoyin’ it. It’s necessary. You do what you gotta do.”

And for the life of him, Joel couldn’t understand why he didn’t just walk away.

He should’ve. He should’ve grabbed what he needed and left.

But something about her—her scent, her smile, her softness—kept him rooted in place.

He wasn’t good at this. Talking. Interacting. Especially not with someone like her—someone who looked at him like he wasn’t something to be avoided.

But she was smiling at him, her eyes wide and innocent, like she wasn’t aware of how the world really worked.

Before he could say anything else, he saw her blush deepen, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket.

She was nervous, but not in the way people usually got around him.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t backing away.

She was blushing because of him.

Hm?

As the awkward silence stretched between them, Joel cleared his throat, the sound rough and abrupt.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been standing there, just staring at her while she kept talking, her soft voice filling the space between them.

He needed to go.

This whole interaction had lasted far too long, longer than he was comfortable with.

His chest tightened with a mix of confusion and frustration, and he could feel the tension creeping into his limbs, urging him to move, to walk away.

She was still smiling at him, her eyes bright, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

“Right,” Joel muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended.

“I should… get goin’.” He nodded awkwardly toward the hunting gear in his hand, using it as an excuse to leave.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flickering with a hint of confusion.

“Oh, sure! No problem,” she said quickly, her voice still sweet, but there was something softer in it now, like she wasn’t quite sure what she’d done wrong.

Joel could feel her eyes on him as he turned away, the tension in his shoulders growing with every step he took.

He forced himself to keep walking, not allowing himself to glance back, not letting himself think about the way her scent still lingered in the air around him.

As he pushed open the door of the shop, the cool air hit his face, a stark contrast to the warmth that had been building inside him.

He needed to get out of there. Now.

“Have a good day!” she called after him, her voice still light, still warm.

Joel didn’t respond.

He just kept walking, his boots heavy against the gravel as he made his way to his truck, his mind already trying to shove the whole interaction into the back of his mind.

It shouldn’t have affected him like that.

Joel climbed into his truck, the door creaking as it shut with a heavy thud.

The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the horizon, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he sat there, staring straight ahead.

He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled deep in his chest.

That girl—he couldn’t get her out of his head. It didn’t make sense.

Her smile. The way her cheeks flushed when she looked at him.

The softness in her voice, the way she smelled—fresh, sweet, and somehow... so pure.

His brow furrowed as the memory tugged at him, gnawing at the edges of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He hadn’t felt like this in years—hadn’t felt much of anything, to be honest.

And yet, there it was. Something stirring inside him, something he couldn’t ignore.

With a grunt, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

He needed to get his mind straight, back to reality, back to the things that actually mattered.

Surviving.

Not some girl in a supply shop.

It couldn’t be because of her.

But as he shifted the truck into gear, his grip on the wheel tightened even more.

He couldn’t deny the physical reaction in his body—the tension building low in his gut, the heat rising through his chest.

Joel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his breath catching for a moment.

He hadn’t even noticed it before, hadn’t allowed himself to.

But now, as he adjusted himself, the realization hit him with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

He was hard.

His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of it settling low in his gut.

How long had it been?

He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt like this, the last time his body reacted this way.

But it couldn’t be because of the girl in the shop, right?

“Jesus.” He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tightening as he fought the urge to dwell on it. “There was no way.”

She was just a kid. I mean, a woman sure. But so young, soft, innocent.

Completely the opposite of everything he was—everything he’d become.

Joel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened even further, his mind racing.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, shouldn’t be feeling this way.

But the more he tried to push it down, the more it rose to the surface.

Her voice, the way she’d blushed when she looked at him, the scent of her clinging to the air around her like a warmth he hadn’t known he needed.

Joel shifted again, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He’d drive home, clear his mind, and forget about it.

Forget about her.

But as he drove down the empty road, the tension in his body only seemed to build. It had been years. Years since anyone, or anything, had made him feel like this.

And the truth gnawed at him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It was because of her.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

moodboard:

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

New series incoming!! Thank you for the nice comments, they make me the most motivated to keep writing. :)

[purplehoover]

Celestia and Luna Redesign!

merely because I was bored, and that this was also put on hold for months- I'm deciding to post it now, though!

The brightest light in the daytime sky, and the comforting glow of the night, these two sisters work together as one.

Celestia is the more talkative of the two, and is often seen with her eyes closed shut- a way to symbolize that she puts her trust in Luna to keep watch as she speaks her wisdom.

Luna is quieter, but has taken on the role of being the voice of Twilight's mentor. Her words speak of truth, often having her perceived as "harsh" and "stone-cold" when she refuses to speak white lies.

While the two have been in harmony, they have had their times of weakness- Causing one or the other to split away from their combined form, the dance between the moon and the sun ceasing. The sisters have forgiven each other, but they remain ever vigilant- always watching each other's backs and minds.

Nightmare Moon is formed through Luna's perception of her sister becoming warped, leading to her becoming paranoid that Celestia is draining her power in order to keep the sun in the sky longer. Luna's paranoia becomes so intense that she forces the split, her distress leading to her becoming Nightmare Moon. With that change, the moon becomes locked within the sky, creating a constant twilight as the sun is unable to rise, leading to distressed animals and famine. The mane six are the ones to bring Luna out of her paranoia, Celestia becoming too focused with trying to restore the order of day and night to help her sister.

Daybreaker is formed through Celestia's power being challenged and distorted through Discord, afflicting her mind, much like her sister. Instead of paranoia, she's full of internalized wrath, for what her sister caused over "some stupid thoughts"Daybreaker, like Nightmare Moon, locks the sun in the middle of the sky, making night impossible and leading to drought in equestria. Luna eventually breaks through her sister's anguish and anger, breaking Discord's influence on her, forgiving her sister at the same time for putting their home first before her. This process creates a solar eclipse.

COMING SOMEDAY: Princess Cadance and Queen Chrysalis - The insectoid alicorns of healing and solitude.

[onesidedradiostatic]

aromantic alastor headcanons for aro-week (with some ace in there as well, because I think for alastor those things are so entwined, it's hard to separate them):

tried going out with girls a couple of times when he was alive, to make his mother happy, but always found a way to extricate himself from the attachment. this ties into his learning how to have complete control over any situation he's in

I wonder as well about whether or not he "passed" as white, or whether his community knew that he was creole, and how that affected his dating opportunities, and his paranoia, his need to be in control, basically his constant hyper-vigilance

got a lot of fanmail for his radio host work, women (and men, but more furtively) loooved his voice. this was acceptable, because (apart from some of the weirder ones) he could use this as a metric for how accepted he was in society, as well as how well he was passing -- both in terms of race and orientation, but also youknow, as someone who is definitely not clockable as a serial killer

although of course we know he also enjoyed company. he'd go out drinking and dancing a lot. was mimzy a bit in love with him? I just like the idea that people kept being incredibly taken with his charm and his politeness and his poise, because he does have all those traits. whether he notices...? (no). I mention this point not so much as headcanon, I just like that alastor as aroace and repulsed on both of those points, was never a shut-in about it. he's always been very lively (ha) and outgoing, and clearly likes being in the company of others... but maybe that last point has gotten to be a little difficult during his time in hell, due to having to be so careful about showing any kind of emotional "weakness." speaking of...

post-death became a more extreme version of himself -- that is, a man on a mission to be in control and create emotional distance between himself and others through the power of voice, rather than having to faff about pretending emotional connections where there were none. very suited for hell because of his precarious political lived reality whilst alive, and because hell is built on who has power and who doesn't. these are rituals he understands better than the strange romantic ones during life

the smile as mask and unhealthy coping mechanism -- wonder if when he was alive people swooned over his having a lovely smile (as well as its being useful to placate and to disorient people who had more violent intentions, and in both cases potentially to lure in victims). so the smile likewise became the most extreme version of itself. the smile in essence as the signifier of someone who doesn't fit into any boxes and needs to hide that fact, both by being mixed race and aroace, but then the smile itself becomes something that effectively owns him, because he literally cannot let it drop, ever (honestly if alastor ever stops smiling, it'll be the biggest gasp moment on this show)

all that being said, surprising connections do occur: rosie, I think, sees through him from the beginning, and she's so disarming (ha, disarming... cannibal joke) that she never feels like a threat + they're both cannibals, so there's a relaxed kinship there and maybe she reminds him of the parts of home he (secretly) misses a bit

I wonder how rosie figured out that alastor wasn't into dating. I think at first she might have thought he was gay, but then quite quickly seen that that's not it, he doesn't even like men much, and she feels like she's been around the block enough to piece together peoples' natures from one of a million other people she's known, so way before she knows the terminology, she knows, and crucially, she never judges or tries to force the point

I wonder how vox and alastor met -- whether vox was able to gain power on his own and this attracted alastor's attention, or if alastor saw something of himself (that turned out to be surface level) in vox, that is, they both wear smiles as masks, they're both presenters, their mediums may be different, but their aims feel similar. perhaps alastor was comfortable enough in hell at this point -- probably in a way he never was whilst alive -- that he was feeling magnanimous towards what must have felt a bit like an upstart. and most importantly, the constraints of alloromantic ideas are a comfortable 20 years in the past by now, alastor can barely remember that this was ever anything that was expected of him, or that others' could possibly feel about him

cue vox falling head over heels, the way people so often did while he was alive, and he... does not notice at all (barely a headcanon). I kind of feel like I don't have much to say on these two, because this blog is already a treasure trove of vox and alastor hcs!

I think rosie is the only one who knows alastor is aroace, although... maybe husk? not in so many words, but he knows alastor isn't interested in those things. nifty Does Not Notice Nor Care (in a good way). charlie i will forever think will at some point do a deep-dive on modern queer lingo and get everyone flags (this is practically word of god canon considering that older piece of art you shared). vox definitely doesn't know. val....... sort of kinda knows but in an evil way. vaggie does not care, but she'd be chill about it. mimzy... I don't think knows, mainly because she never cared to think about his behaviours, as someone who's quite self-centered on what alastor is to her. jeez, who am i missing... angel, does not know, head empty

speaking of angel, I think if he ever found out, especially with where he's at in his journey rn, would be very unhappy in some way about having stepped over his boundaries so often so casually at the beginning. dunno how he'd act about it, but i like the idea of vigilantly (and crudely, and bluntly) supportive angel if they ever manage to get alastor out on the town. more on the ace side of things but i can see him going: "do not try to fuck this guy! this guy is unfuckable!"

(i like hypersexual and deeply romantic angel + sex and romance repulsed alastor as unlikely friendship in my head. opposites finding common ground type stuff is always good)

at the end of the day, alastor living and dying in an amatonormative world and having to orient himself within that by building walls that persist/worsen after his death because of the culture of hell being predicated on who controls whom, veeeeery slowly discovering that he can be vulnerable on his own terms without people demanding things from him that he cannot give (smthinsmthin the hotel gang as the opposite of vox in that sense -- not only that sense, but also that)

also something about imagining his mother hoping he'd find a nice girl and settle down (in the way parents often do, because that's the metric of happiness right.....) and how he never could give her what she wanted, and maybe feels some very locked away guilt about that, which he thinks he'll never be able to deal with because his mother is in heaven, but perhaps in this story she'll get to see what he's built with the people at the hotel and that's really all she wanted for him in the end

OH MY GOD ANON THIS IS ALL SO GOOD?? THANK YOU SO MUCH HAHAHA. happy aro week everyone!! (x2)

[thedensworld]

Sweet Truth | C.Sc

Pairing: gangster!Seungcheol x reader (ft. detective!Mingyu)

Genre: angst, fluff, action

Summary: The relationship become unstable and lot of things happened. It's time for truth to be revealed

Read Sweets Macaroons for the reference.

Seungcheol's head spun with dizziness as he tried to process the sudden turn of events. The revelation that one of his trusted people was actually a cop, spying on his every move, sent shockwaves through his organization. Now, they were forced to retreat and hide in a secretive location, while the authorities scoured Seoul in search of him.

Amidst the chaos and danger, Seungcheol's thoughts were torn. On one hand, he had to ensure the safety of his people, protect his organization from crumbling under the weight of betrayal. On the other hand, tonight was his anniversary with his girlfriend, you. He had promised to be there, to celebrate your love together.

But as the pressure mounted and the stakes grew higher, he realized that fulfilling both promises seemed impossible. His heart ached with the weight of responsibility, torn between loyalty to his people and love for you. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to hold you close and forget about the dangers lurking in the shadows. Yet, the reality of their situation loomed large, forcing him to make difficult decisions.

Seungcheol found himself holed up in their secret sanctuary with Jeonghan and a handful of trusted allies, their presence providing a thin veil of security in the midst of uncertainty. With only a burner phone in hand, he refrained from reaching out to you, knowing the danger it could pose if the authorities traced any connection between you and him. His heart weighed heavy with concern for your safety, yet he couldn't risk putting you in harm's way.

He trusted Jun to check on you, knowing that you would likely still be at your bakery, preparing to close for the night. Jun, once a trusted member of your staff, had been tasked with a different mission—keeping you safe without your knowledge. After you discovered this, Seungcheol had swiftly ordered him to cease all surveillance on you and resign from his position. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that he couldn't get any updates anymore about your daily activities.

For four agonizing months, Seungcheol had been living in the shadows, cut off from any information about you except what you shared directly with him. The void of not knowing gnawed at him day and night, tormenting him with thoughts of your safety and well-being. His life had become a constant dance with danger, ever since the fateful transaction with the Chinese drug seller that had put him squarely in the crosshairs of the law.

The constant threat of being hunted by the authorities cast a dark shadow over every aspect of his existence, tainting even his most cherished moments with you. Gone were the days of carefree meetings and stolen kisses. Now, every interaction was tinged with the heavy weight of survival, as Seungcheol remained on high alert, vigilant against any sign of danger that might threaten both himself and you.

The once vibrant connection between you now felt strained, suffocated by the secrecy and paranoia that enveloped his world. Seungcheol longed to hold you close, to share in the simple joys of your love without the looming specter of his illicit industry hanging over them. But deep down, he knew that exposing you to his dangerous world was a risk he could never justify. The thought of putting you in harm's way was unbearable, and so he kept you at arm's length, shielding you from the darkness that consumed him, even as it tore him apart inside.

"Hyung, Jun has sent an update about Y/n," Jeonghan said, passing Seungcheol his tablet so he could read the message for himself. Seungcheol's breath caught in his throat as he scanned Jun's message. It hinted that you might be returning home earlier than usual, prompting Jun to head to your apartment. Frustration twisted his features as he absorbed the information, a knot of anxiety forming in his chest.

The thought of you potentially arriving home earlier, expecting to find him waiting there, sent a pang of guilt coursing through Seungcheol. He cursed under his breath, torn between the desire to see you and the fear of putting you in harm's way. With each passing moment, the weight of his double life pressed down on him, suffocating him with the knowledge that his actions could endanger the person he loved most.

As he awaited further updates from Jun, Seungcheol couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease that gripped him, knowing that every decision he made could have devastating consequences for both himself and you. As Seungcheol and Jeonghan calmly discussed their next strategy, a sudden interruption shattered the peace—a phone call from Jun. Seungcheol's heart leaped into his throat as he swiftly abandoned the conversation and answered the call.

His eyes widened in shock as he listened intently to Jun's words, every syllable sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Kim Mingyu took her," Jun's voice crackled over the line, each word striking Seungcheol like a physical blow. He felt his muscles tense involuntarily as the gravity of the situation sank in. Mingyu, a rival in their world, was not to be underestimated, and the thought of him having you in his grasp sent a chill down Seungcheol's spine.

With a sense of urgency gripping him, Seungcheol rose from his seat, his mind racing as he processed Jun's report. Mingyu's actions threatened not only you but also the delicate balance of power within their underworld. As he listened to Jun's account of the events unfolding, Seungcheol's emotions roiled within him—a potent mix of fear, anger, and determination.

In that moment, everything else faded into the background as Seungcheol's sole focus became the safety of the person he loved. With a steely resolve hardening his features, he knew that he would stop at nothing to ensure your return, even if it meant facing off against his most dangerous adversaries.

"Kim Mingyu, the stupid cop!" Seungcheol's voice seethed with anger, his fists clenching at the mention of his rival's name. The audacity of Mingyu's actions, resorting to kidnapping to further his agenda, ignited a fierce determination within Seungcheol. "So this is how he wants to play the game? By kidnapping her?" Seungcheol's words dripped with disdain, his mind already calculating his next move. Mingyu had chosen the wrong opponent, Seungcheol vowed silently to himself, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

Seungcheol's heart plummeted as Jeonghan's phone rang, the sudden intrusion breaking the tense silence that hung in the air. With a sense of foreboding, he watched as Jeonghan's expression shifted from confusion to alarm upon seeing the caller ID.

"It's Mingyu," Jeonghan announced, his voice tight with apprehension as he answered the call. Seungcheol's grip tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles white with tension as he waited for Jeonghan to relay the message.

The air seemed to grow heavy as Jeonghan's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. Seungcheol's heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of Mingyu's words gnawing at him like a relentless predator.

"What does he want?" Seungcheol demanded, his voice edged with thinly veiled hostility as he leaned in closer, desperate for any shred of information.

Jeonghan's hand trembled slightly as he held the phone to his ear, his brow furrowed in concentration as he strained to make out the words. Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror as he held the phone out for Seungcheol to see.

"It's a picture," Jeonghan whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned the screen to face Seungcheol. The color drained from Seungcheol's face as he stared at the image displayed on the screen—a chilling snapshot of you, lying unconscious in the back of a car, your face pale and lifeless.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Seungcheol processed the sight before him. Mingyu's sinister message was clear—your safety hung in the balance, a pawn in his twisted game of cat and mouse.

A surge of fury coursed through Seungcheol's veins as he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms with barely restrained rage. Mingyu had crossed a line, and there would be hell to pay for his audacity.

"Where is he?" Seungcheol's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity as he fixed his gaze on Jeonghan. Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution, for swift and merciless justice to be served.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his own expression mirroring Seungcheol's steely resolve. "He didn't say," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration as he relayed Mingyu's cryptic message.

Seungcheol's jaw clenched as he processed the information, his mind racing with possibilities. Mingyu may have thought he held the upper hand, but Seungcheol was not one to be underestimated. He would stop at nothing to ensure your safe return, even if it meant facing off against his most formidable adversary yet.

With a sense of grim determination, Seungcheol knew that the time for waiting and hesitation was over. Mingyu had made his move, and now it was Seungcheol's turn to play the game. And this time, he would play to win, no matter the cost.

*

You are innocent, that's what Seungcheol needed Mingyu to know. As his mind divided into two, his people and you, Jeonghan approached him with urgent news – Mingyu was on the line. Seungcheol wasted no time, seizing the phone and pressing it to his ear, the weight of impending danger bearing down on him.

A scream, muffled yet unmistakable, pierced through the phone, seizing Seungcheol's heart in a vise-like grip. Mingyu's laughter followed, chilling and sinister, as he issued his ultimatum: "Come to me or I kill her."

Seungcheol's eyes squeezed shut in anguish as he uttered his defiant response, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. "No police should harm an innocent citizen."

Mingyu's laughter grew more derisive, his taunts cutting deeper with each cruel word. "She dated you, Seungcheol. How can you be so sure she's innocent?"

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, his resolve hardening as he fired back, "She doesn't know anything about my job."

But Mingyu's retort was swift and cutting, a cold reminder of the tangled web of deceit they were ensnared in. "Oh, she may not know now," Mingyu sneered, "but she'll lead you straight to me soon enough."

A desperate cry tore through the phone, your voice echoing with terror and pleading. "No! Don't come find me!"

Seungcheol's heart clenched at the sound, a swell of guilt and anguish washing over him. What had Mingyu told you about him? Had he already poisoned your mind against him with his lies?

As doubt gnawed at his resolve, Seungcheol knew one thing for certain – he would stop at nothing to protect you, even if it meant confronting the darkest shadows of his past.

"Can I talk to her?" Seungcheol pleaded with Mingyu, desperation lacing his tone. Jeonghan, who watched the whole scene unfold, gasped in surprise. For the first time, he witnessed his formidable superior pleading to someone else.

"Seungcheol..." he heard you whimper his name breathlessly. "Don't you dare come to me..."

Seungcheol sighed heavily, his heart twisting with worry. "How can I not come to you? You're in danger, baby."

"I'll be fine," you said, but Seungcheol didn't buy it. He could hear the tremor in your voice, the underlying fear that threatened to consume you.

"Kim Mingyu..." Seungcheol's words were cut off as the phone call abruptly ended. Kim Mingyu was a menace, a ruthless cop who stopped at nothing to achieve his goals. Seungcheol knew that all too well.

Mingyu's vendetta against Seungcheol stemmed from one simple fact – Seungcheol held a crucial piece of evidence, a file that exposed Mingyu's ties to the Russian organization, Klinok. This organization was notorious for its involvement in drug trafficking and human exploitation, and Mingyu would go to any lengths to protect his secrets.

Seungcheol clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Mingyu's interference threatened not only his own safety but also yours, dragging you into a dangerous game neither of you asked to play.

As Seungcheol paced the room, his mind raced with thoughts of how to outmaneuver Mingyu and protect you from harm. But with Mingyu holding all the cards, Seungcheol knew he had to tread carefully.

Jeonghan watched his superior with a mixture of concern and admiration. Despite the dire circumstances, Seungcheol remained steadfast in his determination to keep you safe. It was a side of Seungcheol that few had seen – vulnerable yet resolute, willing to risk everything for the person he loved.

With Mingyu's threat looming over them, Seungcheol knew that time was running out. He needed to find a way to outsmart Mingyu and rescue you from harm's way before it was too late. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him, threatening to crush his resolve.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol called out, his voice tinged with urgency, "I need you to help me with a big favor."

Jeonghan turned to face Seungcheol, his expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern as he awaited further instruction. "What should I do?" he asked, ready to lend his support in whatever way necessary.

"I need you to handle everything," Seungcheol began, his tone grave and serious. "I need you to choose your assistants carefully."

Jeonghan's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" he mumbled, struggling to comprehend the gravity of Seungcheol's request.

"I need you to cover for me," Seungcheol clarified, turning to face Jeonghan directly. "I can't do this anymore."

As the weight of Seungcheol's words settled over them, Jeonghan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Seungcheol, the formidable leader of their organization, was entrusting him with the responsibility of leading in his absence. It was a momentous decision, one that Jeonghan never anticipated.

"Seungcheol, are you sure about this?" Jeonghan asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I mean, I'm honored, but..."

Seungcheol placed a reassuring hand on Jeonghan's shoulder, his expression grave yet resolute. "I trust you, Jeonghan," he said firmly. "You have the strength and the wisdom to lead in my stead. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't believe in you."

Jeonghan felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him. To be entrusted with such a significant responsibility by someone he respected and admired meant more to him than words could express. He nodded, determination shining in his eyes.

"I won't let you down, Seungcheol," Jeonghan vowed, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect our organization and keep our people safe."

Seungcheol nodded, a small yet appreciative smile gracing his lips. "I know you will, Jeonghan," he said, his tone filled with confidence. "Now, go. Our people need you."

With a final nod of acknowledgment, Jeonghan turned and set off to fulfill the daunting task that lay ahead. As he stepped into his new role, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. But with Seungcheol's faith in him as his guiding light, Jeonghan was ready to rise to the challenge and lead their organization into a new era.

*

Seungcheol drove to the address Mingyu had sent him, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He couldn't believe that a police officer could stoop to such despicable acts. Not that Seungcheol hadn't done his fair share of questionable deeds, but he had never crossed certain lines. Yet, here he was, forced to confront the dark reality of Mingyu's actions.

As he navigated the streets of Seoul, memories of his past deeds weighed heavily on Seungcheol's mind. He had never claimed to be a good person – far from it. But seeing you, with your unwavering love and adoration, had stirred something deep within him. It had made him question the path he had chosen, and whether he could ever truly leave behind the life of crime he had embraced for so long.

Before the chaos ensued, Seungcheol had been meticulously planning the organization's future, laying the groundwork for a smooth transition before he announced his retirement. It was a decision fueled not only by his desire to settle down with you but also by a newfound sense of responsibility and a longing for redemption.

As he neared the address Mingyu had provided, Seungcheol's heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He knew that confronting Mingyu would be dangerous, but he was willing to risk it all for the chance to rescue you from harm's way. With each passing moment, the weight of his decisions pressed down on him, threatening to consume him with doubt and uncertainty.

But as he pulled up to the designated location, determination hardened in Seungcheol's eyes. No matter the outcome, he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety and bring an end to Mingyu's reign of terror. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

Seungcheol entered the old building, his senses on high alert as he scanned his surroundings. The dimly lit corridors were eerily quiet, save for the occasional creaking of floorboards beneath his feet. His heart pounded in his chest as he took in the sight of several unconscious bodies strewn across the floor, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked within.

With each step he took, Seungcheol's worry for your safety intensified. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you, not when you were so close, yet so far from his reach. Determination flared within him as he pushed forward, his mind focused solely on finding you and bringing you back to safety.

As he ascended the staircase to the floor above, the sound of voices grew louder, mingling with the unmistakable echoes of struggle and conflict. Seungcheol's instincts kicked into overdrive as he hastened his pace, his muscles tense with anticipation.

Seungcheol froze in his tracks, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap. Dread washed over him, threatening to paralyze him with fear as he contemplated the possibility of Mingyu harming you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the stakes at hand.

For a moment, Seungcheol's mind raced with a million possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. His breath caught in his throat as he braced himself for what he might find on the other side of that door. But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one thing remained clear – he couldn't afford to hesitate. Not when your life hung in the balance.

With a steely resolve, Seungcheol pushed open the door, bracing himself for the unknown. But what greeted him was far from the worst nightmare he had imagined. Mingyu lay on the floor, wounded, while you stood beside him, gun in hand, your eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and urgency.

Beside you stood Seungkwan, your baker, his expression mirroring yours as he held his own weapon tightly. Seungcheol's mind reeled at the sight, trying to process the unexpected turn of events unfolding before him.

As your eyes met his, you wasted no time in rushing to his side, gripping his hand firmly and gesturing for him to follow. Seungcheol's confusion gave way to a deep sense of trust in you, and he followed your lead without hesitation, his instincts telling him that you knew what needed to be done.

"We're just gonna leave Seungkwan?" Seungcheol's voice trembled with uncertainty as he glanced back at the injured baker.

You nodded reassuringly, motioning for him to get into the car while you took the driver's seat. Seungcheol's mind was spinning with questions as he settled into the passenger seat. Since when could you drive? It was just one of the many revelations that tonight had brought.

As you drove with determination, Seungcheol's thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of events. How had you survived? How had you managed to shoot Mingyu? And why was Seungkwan there?

Lost in his thoughts, Seungcheol barely registered your voice as you spoke beside him. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "You okay, baby?" you asked, your words cutting through the chaos in his mind.

Seungcheol was taken aback. Wasn't it supposed to be his line, reassuring you that everything would be okay now that he had saved you from Mingyu? But the roles seemed to have reversed, leaving him bewildered and uncertain.

You guided Seungcheol to a building, and he followed you inside, his senses on high alert. Once you were safely indoors, Seungcheol pulled you into his embrace, relief flooding through him as he held you close.

"I'm glad you're fine," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, feeling the tension drain from his body.

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against his chest. "Didn't I say it on the phone call that I'll be fine?" you murmured, tightening the hug as if to reassure him once more.

Seungcheol couldn't help but smile at your words, but his curiosity gnawed at him. "What happened?" he asked, his tone gentle yet demanding, a silent plea for the truth.

And as you began to explain, Seungcheol realized that he wasn't the only one with secrets.

*

"Welcome to Sweetie..." Your cheerful voice faded once you realized who had entered your shop. Your former superior, Hong Jisoo, and your colleague Seungkwan stood there, exuding an air of calm and collected confidence. It was clear from their composed demeanor that they had expected to find you here.

"It's been a long time, Agent Sweet," Director Hong said, smiling as he took a seat at one of the tables.

You were relieved that the shop was empty, with Jun out on an errand to the market, getting your weekly stock filled. The timing, at least, was fortunate.

You sighed, maintaining a polite smile. "Is there any sweet that you prefer? We have the viral Cromboloni here," you said, trying to keep up the pretense of normalcy, as if he wasn’t someone you had worked with for half of your life.

Seungkwan walked to the door and flipped the open sign to closed. You opened the drawer under the cashier machine, reaching for the box inside where your gun was stored. Jisoo cleared his throat and signaled Seungkwan to join him.

"Can we have two Americanos and two of those Cromboloni, please?" Jisoo asked, his tone deceptively casual.

You silently took your gun and tucked it into your apron pocket. Noting their order, you began to prepare the coffees and desserts. As you placed the desserts in the microwave, the reflection in the microwave's door showed Seungkwan moving towards you. Reacting instantly, you dropped the dessert, pulled out your gun, and pointed it directly at his forehead.

The sight made Jisoo smile with satisfaction. "Still got those instincts, Y/n," he remarked, standing up from his seat. He gently lowered your gun from Seungkwan's forehead. "Let's not make a mess. Your boyfriend wouldn't like it."

Your gaze shifted to Jisoo, eyes narrowing. "You've been tracking my boyfriend?"

Jisoo shrugged nonchalantly. "He's not exactly hard to find. A bit popular, isn't he?"

There was a pregnant silence before Jisoo finally confessed the true reason for their visit. "We want you to come back," he started. "Our team needs you. We’ve been in a state of emergency since you left."

You put your gun back into your pocket, then bent down to clean up the dessert you had dropped. "You’re the only person who knows why I’m not coming back, Director Hong," you said, your voice laced with frustration.

Jisoo sighed and gestured for Seungkwan to sit back at the table while he spoke to you. "Listen, Y/n, we all need you. The country needs you. You were in the field for 15 years. You’re the only one who can do this."

"Why? Why am I the only one?" you demanded, standing up and looking Jisoo directly in the eyes.

"Because you’re S.Coups's lover," Jisoo reasoned.

You sighed, "That's the exact reason I left this job," you whispered, ensuring Seungkwan couldn't overhear your conversation.

Two years ago, you were assigned to investigate Yoon Jeonghan, a man rumored to be running the largest illegal weapons industry. This bakery was a front, strategically placed near their operations. During your investigation, you discovered that Yoon Jeonghan was just a right-hand man. Then you met Seungcheol, who frequented your bakery a little too often. He asked for your number and managed to distract you from your mission. Soon, you learned that Yoon Jeonghan worked for Choi Seungcheol, the real S.Coups.

You were assigned to capture them, but you refused and left the job before officially dating Seungcheol. Despite leaving the agency, you sensed someone was still spying on you. Boo Seungkwan, your junior, had been watching you under Jisoo’s orders..

"We don't want S.Coups," Jisoo exclaimed. "We need Klinok." He began to explain, his voice grave. "Klinok has been taking over the industry for years, and if they get their hands on weapons, we'll be in big trouble."

"Klinok has been targeting S.Coups since earlier this year. We need to save him; he has the critical data we need to bring Klinok down."

You were baffled by the revelation. "Are you serious?" you asked Jisoo, your mind racing.

Jisoo nodded solemnly. "That's why I said you're the only one who can do this."

"Seungkwan will help you. He'll apply as a baker here. He's quite good at it," Jisoo added, glancing at Seungkwan.

Seungkwan scoffed, "Excuse me, I'm not 'quite good.' I'm very good at baking."

Jisoo chuckled before turning his focus back to you. "It's your choice, Y/n."

You stood there, weighing your options. The peaceful life you had carved out was slipping away, replaced by the dangerous world you had tried to leave behind. But if Seungcheol was in danger and you had the power to help, how could you refuse?

Taking a deep breath, you looked Jisoo in the eye. "Alright, I'll do it. But remember, Seungcheol's safety is my top priority."

Jisoo nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. "Understood. We'll do everything we can to protect him."

You glanced at Seungkwan, who gave you a reassuring nod. "Guess we're in this together, then," you said, a determined glint in your eye.

*

"Baby..." Seungcheol brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he listened to your explanation, his voice barely above a whisper. He struggled to process all the revelations. "So you knew I was hiding my work from you?" he asked, feeling a pang of guilt.

You nodded, reaching for his hand. "It's not like I wasn't hiding something either. So we're even," you said with a gentle smile, trying to ease his heavy heart.

He pulled you into his embrace again, rubbing your back and whispering, "I'm just glad you're okay. That could have been so dangerous, baby..."

You chuckled softly. "I've been doing this for half of my life, love. Danger is nothing new to me."

"Still," he insisted, "what if Mingyu had done something to you?"

You smiled at his concern and pecked his lips. "It was anticipated. Kim Mingyu has been working with Klinok for a long time, and he's been seen around my bakery this month. He was definitely trying to get to you by using me."

Seungcheol cupped your cheeks, rubbing them softly. He kissed your forehead with so much affection before pulling you into another embrace. "Thank you for saving me," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "And I'm sorry that I've been hiding all of this."

You held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "We're in this together now," you whispered. "No more secrets."

He nodded, resting his chin on your head. "No more secrets," he echoed, his voice resolute.

In that moment, despite the chaos and uncertainty, you both felt a sense of peace. You had each other, and that was all that mattered. Together, you could face anything.

Ring

"That must be Seungkwan," Seungcheol said, pulling away and ending the make-out session you were enjoying before the night could end.

You groaned and picked up the call. "Agent Sweet speaking," you answered, your tone clearly upset. Seungkwan could easily detect your annoyance.

"Klinok is on his way to the harbor. He expects Kim Mingyu in an hour. Let's catch him," Seungkwan informed you, and you immediately ended the call.

"I'm sorry, baby. But work is calling," you mumbled while buttoning up your shirt and ensuring you had your weapon and necessary gear.

Seungcheol watched you from the couch, a smile playing on his lips. "You look hot like this," he remarked.

You smiled back, "Baby," you called him, "I look hot whether I'm wearing an apron or carrying a gun." You leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

"I'll be back. Wait for me, okay?" you said, your voice filled with determination and affection.

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes filled with pride and concern. "Be careful," he whispered, knowing that you were about to step into a dangerous situation, but also knowing that there was no one more capable than you.

[astropookie]

Ascendants at different degrees🦚🦢 pt 2

Venus in retrograde started🎶if your ex comes back or there’s an end, you know what to blame 🤪 jk

Pinterest

Ascendant at Cancer degree (4°, 16° or 28°)

they’re sensitive in a way I think they can manipulate the atmosphere, at least they have this sensitive nature. They could have had a “rebel” era, putting it with “ bc in reality it wasn’t that kind of era, they were being themselves or they needed help and were misunderstood by people around them. that’s why when they grew up they seem more mature, like a mother figure, with their cheesy side, bc they don’t want people around them to be worried and also they have had matured? they constantly idealize the idea of being with someone that ‘ll take care of them, how they have been doing it with everyone. they love food and feeling at home, there’s one person that occupies that big heart. THE BABY FACE.

Ascendant at Leo degree (5°, 17° or 29°)

they don’t know they’re the center of attention until someone tells them. they attract people easily. the way they do things have something unique. childish or excited. when they say or do something impulsive, they think about it and then the worry doesn’t last longer (depends on the moon sign. Idk but the people Ik with ascendant at leo degree have had difficulties at choosing their career, they either are delusional and not have a concrete plan or they have two options. They lack of confidence when’s about their abilities, they’re pessimistic. They could have a hard time analyzing themselves. They need to do sports so they can have a healthy copy mechanism that actually helps them. They’re proud. They’re like little kids running but at the same time with a huge ego. They get bored EASILY and you’ll always find them with their hiperfixation, they can’t live without it, could be tennis, gardening, doesn’t matter. People like them, they do the bare minimum and people sympathize with them. Could be bc of their charisma. They care about what others think TOO MUCH, in a way they don’t care but they do.

Ascendant at Virgo degree (6° or 18°)

omg these people get manipulated easily, you don’t have idea 🙄. they’re not flexible, they try! And they have todo things in their way and they’re in this constant stress when people that’s around them don’t acr the same as them. since details like if you’re eating pizza without a plate and they get mad bc you have to do that and etc. or when they went out and -you can’t lie to me about it- and then criticize or point out things that disgusted them. I don’t want to justifícate them and I’m not going to but that’s how virgo loves? Or acts or how they live? They care and that’s how they show it -and also bc they have a god complex, but beside that..-. THEYRE MANIACS, they have to have their order. They have to heal darling, they have to😩 stop trying to fix others problems or taking too much time on them instead on focusing on your unresolved trauma, bc god you have. that’s why you’re so manipulated and manipulative. Manipulative bc you know exactly what’s the other Achilles’ heel and manipulated bc you haven’t find yet yours and if you had, you haven’t healed it.

Ascendant at Scorpio degree (8° or 20°)

they went though shit that haunts them till now, they’re healing but IS REALLY hard for them to not feel the memory. to not understand things as they come, that life can be unfair. and that not always the ones that made you suffer the most have to pay BY THEIR HANDS, karma exists babe. they’re kind souls that went though a lot and want to protect their loved ones no matter what. they can overthink too much to the point they thought you hated them bc their intuition was confused with paranoia. they’re always on vigilant mood -if they’re not, it’s with the ones they feel more comfortable- and ALWAYS analyze the person before taking the first step. sadly, one of their family could have been part of that insecurity/trauma that accompanies them in the present. bb pls stop blaming yourself for things you have no control and if you had, to learn you’re human ❤️

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer, I just love astrology and I’m willing to learn.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[rosevette]

·.༄࿔ TAKE ME TO PARIS part 2. my mlist

𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌 & 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

💋ྀིྀི résumé : the gifts won’t stop, along with john’s paranoia. he won’t even let you out of the hotel.

1.6k words + tags : dumb, ‘naive’ !reader, manipulation, fantasizing, smut, age gap, pet names, fingering, slight non-con, evil intent, brat-taming⭑

୭ৎ … im so sorry yall had to wait so long for this, but im finally finished !! more chapters to come, and I hope you enjoy…if there are any error, ignore! (part 1 here) - sincerely, rose

DAYS PASSED, and John's concern only seemed to intensify. He hovered nearby constantly, his watchful gaze never leaving your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. The gifts from Marquis didn’t stop either, a jewelry a day.

At first, you found John’s behavior endearing, a testament to his unwavering dedication to keeping you safe. But as time wore on, his constant vigilance began to chafe, leaving you feeling suffocated by his overbearing presence.

"I'm just going for a walk, John," you protested, attempting to slip past him as he stood guard by the hotel entrance.

His grip tightened on your arm, his eyes flashing with undisguised worry. "I can't let you out of my sight, not with him out there," he insisted, his tone firm and resolute.

Frustration bubbled up inside you as you shook off his hold, refusing to be caged like some delicate bird.

"I'm not a child, John. I can take care of myself," you snapped, storming towards the door, before the brooding man stopped you and held his position in front of the door.

“I said no.”

His voice was cold, you were getting on his nerves. Paranoid or not, he couldn’t let you go outside.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, my patience has already been thrown out the window.” He glared at you, you could tell he wasn’t joking, but you just can’t help but to talk back.

“You’re such a brute. You can’t keep me here fore—“ You widened your eyes, feeling a hand read gently on your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes to John’s gaze, your face flushed, your eyebrows narrowing.

“Stop being a brat.” He murmured, his words slipping smoothly through his lips.

Before you knew it, his body already pressed against yours firmly, his weight leaning you against the flat surface of the wall, secluded in your room.

“I’m just looking out for you, is that so hard to understand?”

As John pressed you against the decorative wallpaper, his firm grip sending shivers down your spine, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His proximity ignited a fire within you, stirring desires that had long lain dormant.

With a defiant smirk, you met his intense gaze head-on, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as you leaned in closer, the tension crackling between you like electricity.

"You're not my keeper, John," you countered, your voice laced with equal parts defiance and desire. "I can take care of myself."

But before you could utter another word, John's lips crashed against yours, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving you breathless and dizzy with longing. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, igniting a fierce hunger deep within your core.

“Do you understand what no means?” He leaned back, scoffing at your flushed state. Now turning your body around to face him, his eyes trailed your body top to bottom, your heart pacing, knowing what was next.

With a gasp, you melted into him, your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of his passion. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a fever pitch that threatened to consume you whole.

It didn’t take long until you felt his hands start to trail up your silk dress, his hand could be seen rubbing along your thighs through the thin fabric. Each whimper you gave was met with a smirk from John, only fueling his ego.

“Seems like this brat is already so wet for me. Is this what you wanted? To push my buttons to end up like this?”

Your breath hitched as John’s hands explored the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you with every teasing touch. His words, though laced with arrogance, only served to stoke the flames of your desire, igniting a primal need that begged to be sated.

With a low whimper, you arched into his touch, unable to deny the intoxicating effect he had on you. “N-No I didn’t mean to I…,” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction as you trailed your fingers along the contours of his chest.

The tension between you crackled with raw intensity, each touch, each whispered word fueling the inferno of passion that raged between you. Lost in the heat of the moment, his fingers eventually met contact with your wet folds, a moan slipping past your lips.

“J-John..” you croaked, squinting.

“I told you there would be punishments for your behavior.” You couldn’t even reply back in time when he had slipped a finger inside your wet hole, gasping into the air. A few pumps from his digits already made you a moaning mess.

Your words caught in your throat as John’s touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, rendering you speechless as ecstasy washed over you in dizzying waves. His fingers, skilled and knowing, delved deeper into your core, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you whole.

Every pump, every stroke sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your moans echoing in the air as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming pleasure that John bestowed upon you. His touch was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving you craving more with each passing moment.

He smirked, eventually pulling his fingers away to bring to his mouth, tasting you. You widened your eyes, wondering why he stopped as jaw hung open, your poor cunt soaked and wanting more.

John’s smirk only deepened as he savored the taste of your arousal on his fingers, his gaze locked with yours as he drank in your reaction with undisguised satisfaction. Your widened eyes and parted lips spoke volumes, your confusion and desire swirling together in a heady mix that only fueled his own arousal.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” He laughed wickedly. This was your punishment. He wasn’t going to continue, he was going to make you wait for it.

He scoffed, leaving you breathless and aching for more as he reveled in the power he held over you. Your body throbbed with need, every nerve on edge as you craved his touch like a drug.

“Clean yourself up, darling,” he said casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired between you.

Confusion and frustration warred within you as you struggled to make sense of his abrupt change in demeanor. Had it all been a game to him? A cruel joke at your expense?

With trembling hands, you gathered your wits about you, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs as you attempted to compose yourself. But the memory of his touch lingered like a fever dream, leaving you reeling in its wake.

Now stepping out of the steaming shower, you sighed to yourself, thinking back to John’s advances just an hour ago. You should’ve known he had a trick up his sleeve just to toy with you.

Before you could dwell on the thought any longer, your phone rang, startling you out of your reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, you frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar number. Hesitantly, you answered, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," a smooth voice purred from the other end, sending a chill down your spine.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Recognition dawned on you as you realized who was calling. "Marquis," you greeted evenly, masking the tremor in your voice. “How did you find my number…”

"Ah, I know a guy," he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. "Tell me, have you been enjoying my little gifts?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the gesture," you replied tersely, forcing a note of indifference into your tone.

Deep down, you weren’t scared or threatened that the man called you, in fact, you welcomed it. Perhaps you could use this as payback for John?

The Marquis's laughter echoed in your ears, he had noticed your tone of voice . "Oh, ma chérie, you wound me," he purred. "But tell me, have you left Paris? I haven’t seen you anywhere…”

Yeah, thanks to John. You thought in your head.

“I simply admire beautiful things, and you, my dear, are the most exquisite masterpiece of them all. A shame I haven’t seen you since the auction.

Despite the danger and warning bells ringing in your mind, a rebellious spark ignited within you at the Marquis’s words. You couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through you at the thought of defying John, of embracing the danger that lurked just beyond the shadows.

As the Marquis’s laughter echoed in your ears, you felt a surge of defiance welling up inside you.

“I’m still here, Marquis,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of mischief. “And I must say, your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed either.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. “Ah, so you’re still playing games, ma chérie,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. “I must say, I do admire your spirit.”

The Marquis’s laughter filled the air once more, a sound that sent a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. “Well then, my dear,” he purred. “Let’s see just how far that taste for danger will take you.”

the end ! part 3 in progress…

© rosevette 2024 . do not copy !

[valkyriexo]

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 4 - Smarter Baby, Smarter

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ;Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNIᑉ³ EPISODE WARNINGS;  Nightmares

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 3K

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Episode 4! So close.. yet so far...

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me. Remember, none of this is real. It is a story. It is fiction. You can choose not to read it if it will make you uncomfortable.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

The days that followed were filled with a heightened sense of vigilance and an ever-present undercurrent of dread. Chan, determined not to leave you alone, had practically moved in, bringing along a few essentials and making himself a constant presence in your home. His presence was meant to provide you with a sense of comfort and security, but instead, it only served to magnify your growing paranoia.

At night, sleep became a luxury. Your dreams were plagued with nightmares, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last. You found yourself running through dark, endless corridors, the echo of your footsteps growing louder as the pursuer drew nearer. Their heavy breathing seemed to echo through your bones, sending chills down your spine. You could feel their gaze, cold and invasive, piercing through the darkness as they closed in on you. Each corner you turned offered no escape, only deeper shadows and the suffocating sense of impending doom.

Each time you jolted awake, drenched in sweat and heart pounding, you found Chan by your side, his concern overwhelming. "Are you okay?" he'd ask, his voice gentle yet filled with worry.

You'd nod, forcing a smile to reassure him, but the fear never truly left your eyes. "Just a bad dream," you'd reply, your voice trembling slightly. The truth was far more sinister, though. Even in the safety of your home, you could never shake the feeling of being watched. Windows felt like portals for prying eyes, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce an intruder's presence.

During the day, Chan's presence was a double-edged sword. While his company was comforting, the gnawing suspicion that had taken root in your mind made it difficult to fully relax around anyone, even him. The stalker's intrusion had cast a shadow over everyone in your life, and you couldn't help but question their intentions.

Despite the situation, the boys did not stop coming around.

Most of them, at least.

There was a noticeable shift in their behavior. Instead of the usual group gatherings where everyone showed up at once, it was now one or two of them at a time making appearances, checking in to ensure you were okay. Their visits were staggered, almost as if they were trying not to overwhelm you, but the absence of the usual selves only heightened your sense of isolation.

Han and Felix were the most frequent visitors, their cheerful demeanor brightening the otherwise gloomy situation. They brought food, shared jokes, and tried to lift your spirits, but even their presence couldn't dispel the unease. The dynamic had changed, and you couldn't help but wonder if they sensed something too.

One afternoon, as you sat in your living room pretending to read a book, your mind kept drifting back to everything that had happened. The pages blurred before your eyes as your thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memories and moments that seemed to lead nowhere. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but the letters swam together in an incomprehensible jumble

From the kitchen, you could hear the sound of a knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board. Seungmin was there, slicing up some fruit for a snack. Chan was helping him, occasionally stealing glances at you, his worry evident despite the lighthearted conversation he was trying to maintain with Seungmin.

You forced yourself to turn a page, but the words remained incomprehensible. Your gaze involuntarily shifted to the kitchen.

Seungmin looked so... normal, so innocent as he carefully arranged the fruit on a plate. Yet, the nagging suspicion in your mind refused to be silenced.

Where was he during the investigation?

"Hey, you okay over there?" Chan's voice broke through your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see Chan leaning against the counter, watching you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just trying to distract myself," you said standing up and joining them in the kitchen.

Chan's eyes narrowed slightly, his intuition picking up on the unease you couldn't quite hide. He exchanged a glance with Seungmin, who was now looking at you with a worried expression as well.

"Want some fruit?" Seungmin offered, holding up the plate with a hopeful smile. "Thought it might help you relax."

You shook your head gently, offering a small, apologetic smile. "Thanks, Seungmin, but I'm still full from breakfast. Han and Felix brought over food this morning. I'm not really hungry right now."

Seungmin's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it with understanding. "No worries. If you change your mind, it's here."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture despite your lack of appetite. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew you couldn't continue to dance around the issue any longer. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, and you needed clarity.

Chan's eyes lingered on you, sensing something wrong. As Seungmin turned to wash his hands at the sink, Chan leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You glanced nervously at Seungmin's back before meeting Chan's eyes. "I don't feel safe right now," you murmured urgently, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have a bad feeling... it's him."

Chan furrowed his brow in concern, his eyes searching yours for clarity. "Him? Seungmin?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief and concern. "Why do you think that?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of your suspicions heavy in your chest. "I don't know... it's just a gut feeling," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But everything... it all seems to point to him."

Chan's expression darkened, his worry deepening as he glanced over at Seungmin, who was still engrossed in his task at the sink.

"No, it can't be him," Chan replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That wouldn't make sense."

But before he could continue, you felt a surge of determination. The weight of your suspicions had become too much to bear, and you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach any longer.

"Seungmin," you called out, your voice louder than you intended, causing him to turn around, his hands still wet from washing.

"Y/n.." Chan said trying to stop you.

Ignoring Chan's attempt to intervene, you locked eyes with Seungmin, the intensity of your gaze cutting through the air.

"Seungmin," you repeated, your voice firm.

Seungmin's expression shifted, a hint of confusion flickering across his features as he took in the gravity of your tone. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "I need to ask you something," you began.

"Have you been following me? Watching me?"

Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides. "What? No, of course not," he protested. "Why would you even think that?"

"Why have you been acting so strange lately?" you replied, your voice firm as you confronted Seungmin. "You have evidence pointing against you… I can't ignore it."

His eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "What evidence?" he asked.

"I think you're the one who's been stalking me," you blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush. "Every time something happens, you're somehow involved or conveniently not there."

Chan stepped in, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, let's take a step back here," he said, looking between you and Seungmin. "We need to handle this carefully."

Seungmin's face went from shock to hurt. "You think I'm stalking you?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I would never do something like that.... I'm your friend."

You could see the pain in his eyes, but the fear and paranoia that had been building up inside you couldn't be ignored. "Then explain the letters, Seungmin.

Seungmin nodded, his expression serious. "I want to clear this up. I don't know why you think I'm involved, but I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm not."

"One thing at a time, Y/N," Chan interjected gently, trying to keep the situation from escalating further.

"When I received that first letter, it was Seungmin who handed it to me," you explained, your voice shaking slightly.

Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The letter with the gift basket? Minho handed it to me," he began. "He found it outside the front door and thought it might be important, so he gave it to me to give to you. I had no idea what it was at the time."

You frowned, trying to process his explanation. "And what about the second letter? You came over to give your condolences for my friend's passing, and that's when I found it."

Seungmin nodded again. "I came over because I wanted to be there for you. I had no idea there was another letter until you found it. I swear, Y/N, I have nothing to do with this."

Chan looked at you, his expression thoughtful. "It does make sense...."

You felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be that your paranoia had gotten the better of you? "And what about when the letters went missing, and the third one arrived? You weren't around then either."

Seungmin nodded, his expression resolute. "I was doing a photoshoot that day. I have pictures and timestamps to prove it. I can show you the evidence right now if it helps."

Chan looked at you, his eyes steady. "Let's see the photos, Seungmin. If you're telling the truth, this will clear things up."

Seungmin quickly pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery, finding the pictures from the photoshoot. He handed the phone to Chan, who examined the images carefully. The timestamps matched the dates and times you had noted.

Chan turned the phone towards you, showing the pictures. "He's telling the truth, Y/N. These photos prove he wasn't here when the letters went missing or when the third one arrived."

You stared at the photos, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. Seungmin's explanation seemed plausible, his earnestness evident in his words and actions. The evidence was clear, but the fear and paranoia still gnawed at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt your body begin to tremble. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I just want this to stop." The reality of the situation, coupled with the weight of your suspicions, was overwhelming. "I've been so scared....I don't know who to trust anymore."

Seungmin's eyes met yours, filled with sincerity. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Please, believe me."

Your vision blurred as tears spilled down your cheeks. You took a deep breath, trying to absorb the reality. "I… I believe you, Seungmin. I'm sorry for doubting you. It's just… this whole situation has made me so paranoid."

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression softening. "I understand... If I were in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same way. We're all just trying to protect you."

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden noise made you jump, your heart racing. Your hands shook as you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

With trembling fingers, you opened the message. The room seemed to close in around you as you read the words, your breath catching in your throat. The message was brief but chilling, a reminder that the nightmare was far from over.

You gasped, dropping the phone as if it had burned you. Chan and Seungmin were immediately at your side, concern etched on their faces as they reached out to support you. "What is it?" Chan asked urgently, picking up the phone and reading the messages.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed as he read the message. "Well, at least they've gone digital. We're saving trees," he remarked, attempting to inject a note of levity into the tense atmosphere.

Chan shot him a withering look, his expression grave. "Seungmin, not the time," he chided, his carrying urgency as he turned his attention back to you. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in.

Seungmin's voice carried a tone of frustration as he gestured to his phone. "I just want to point out that my phone is nowhere near me. So logically, it can't be me sending those messages."

Chan nodded in agreement, his brows furrowed in concentration. "He's right. Whoever this is, they're trying to frame him."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you stared at the cryptic message on your phone screen. "So, what do we do now?"

Chan took a deep breath, his expression determined as he reached for the phone. With a steady hand, he composed a message, his fingers flying across the screen.

"I'll handle this," Chan declared, his voice resolute. "We need to find out who's behind these messages."

He pressed send, and you held your breath, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for a response. You watched anxiously as the seconds ticked by, each moment stretching into eternity as you waited for a reply. Finally, the familiar chime of an incoming message broke the silence, and Chan's eyes darted to the screen.

You exchanged a worried glance with Chan. The cryptic message only added to the sense of unease that hung heavy in the air.

"What game?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question lingered unanswered, the sender remaining a mystery.

Seungmin's jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes darting between you and Chan. "We can't just sit around waiting for them to make a move," he asserted. "We need to take action."

Chan nodded, his expression serious. "We need to figure out who this is and why they're targeting you."

Just as he finished speaking, your phone buzzed again. The three of you looked at it in unison, a sense of dread creeping over you.

The same message from the same unknown number appeared on the screen.

Seungmin's frustration deepened. "They’re just trying to rattle us," he said through gritted teeth. "We shouldn't give them the satisfaction."

Chan agreed, but as he started to speak, your phone buzzed again. The same message repeated:

"It's like they’re not going to stop until we do what they want," you said, anxiety making your voice tremble.

Chan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Stay calm baby. We need to think this through."

But the phone buzzed yet again. The same message and link. The sender was relentless, bombarding you with the same demand over and over.

"Play the game."

Seungmin shook his head, his frustration giving way to a more resolute expression. "Maybe we should see what’s behind the link. But we have to be careful. It could be a trap."

Chan nodded. "We’ll open it on a separate device, one that’s not connected to any personal information. We need to see what we're dealing with."

You watched as Chan pulled out an old laptop from the closet, one that hadn’t been used in ages. He connected it to a public Wi-Fi network and opened the link, your heart pounding in your chest as the page began to load.

The screen flickered for a moment before revealing a dark, ominous website with a single line of text that read:

"Welcome to the game. Let’s see if you’re clever enough to survive."

You all exchanged weary glances. You had no choice but to see this through. With a nod from Seungmin and a deep breath from you, Chan pressed the "Play" button.

The screen transitioned to a new page, revealing what looked like a puzzle.

"Is this a joke?" Seungmin said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"It doesn't look like it," Chan replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the screen.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Let's just get through this. We need to see what they're after."

The first puzzle appeared simple, but it required careful thought and teamwork. You, Chan, and Seungmin huddled closer, your minds working in unison to decipher the clues. Each solution unlocked the next puzzle, the difficulty ramping up with each new screen.

Seungmin leaned back, his brow furrowed. "It looks like this is a series of puzzles. Each one is more difficult than the last."

Chan nodded, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "They’re testing us, pushing us to see how far we can go."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "But why? What’s the goal here?"

"I don’t know," Chan said, his voice steady despite the tension. "But were going to have to play the game to find out."

With a shared glance, you all knew there was no turning back. You had to see this through, no matter the risks.

"And play the game we will," you replied.

With that, you all turned your attention back to the laptop.

The sender may have set the rules, but you were determined to control the outcome.

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

ઇଓ EP.5 - Draw me like one of your french girls

ઇଓ Taglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[katsukikitten]

Zodel only has patience for you. Everyone else is a stepping stone to reach the Heavens and drag them down to Hell himself.

What others call junk you call treasure.

Fingers smoothing over threadbare blankets or jackets, mange looking faux fur on old stuffed animals. Smooth flat metal of scissors until rust begins to eat at the edges making them jagged.

Useless.

Garbage.

But it was all jinki to you.

Pieces of people's souls could be trapped in items, embedded into the very atoms that made the item smooth or rough to the touch. As if woven into the fabric itself and if you were a Giver, which you were, jinki was all that much more valuable.

So here you stand with your sewn together backpack, black velveteen fabric well worn, eyes replaced with loving x stitching and one of the cat ears long since gone. It's belly swollen and full of treasures clinking together, whispering their thanks to you as you shift through the garbage in the contaminated zone. Spiked gas mask snug against your face as it filters the rancid air while you fixate on the items in the pale moonlight.

No need for you to be too vigilant considering no one was ever out this far, at least no one with half a mind. Trash beasts, raiders or vandals would be the most company you'd get and even then that was few and far in between the major cities of the Abyss. You spent the majority of your time under the haze of the stinking trash listening out for the loudest jinki, the most angry, resentful, growling thing before your ears perked.

Body on instinct dropping to the ground before you hear the footsteps and then the voices.

But most of all the jinki.

“Boss…”

“Don't.” Sharper than any knife you've held, gaze sharper still as it turns onto the goon that follows. You can't see from this distance, everything mostly a blob and their voices barely carry out to you. But even if you could hear them all you can focus on is the loud humming coming from the poorly sewn together jacket on the man's broad shoulders.

I can help comes the soft whisper from the pile of trash, your fingers digging into the heap, dark power snaking from one piece to another as if being passed along before you finally land in a doll. Hair burnt off and ripped out, missing both arms, a leg but thankfully she still had one good eye.

The doll lies close to the two men, unblinking gaze fixated on them as you close your left to see better.

One is skinny, lanky and with long tightly woven dreads, fingers covered in claws that retract to rings as he falls into step behind the much larger man with dark midnight hair.

Dreads’ jinki are loud, hard to ignore, muttering endlessly between themselves in gravely rasps. Hissing, agitated sounds over one another as it morphs into a quickening slurred babble, almost as if paranoia drives their conversation.

The second is wrapped around the broader man, dark black and filled with so much power it hums. Loudly, to the point it begins to drown out the rushing blood in your ears, drown out every thought as the buzzing continues to grow. He adjusts the jacket and it preens before back to the constant almost nauseating drone.

You want that fuckin jinki.

“Boss I couldn't get the sky person but-” Dreads attempts again to get a word in edgewise before he's interrupted by another pointed tone.

“You failed did you not?” Cold dark eyes look over his shoulder as they continue to walk along the tall trash heap, much taller than them as the duster jacket held together by large staples and stitches steadily hums.

Dreads doesn't answer, crazed eyes dropping to the junk underfoot in shame.

“Twice.” Dreads flinches as if struck but the broad man doesn't move an inch. Nothing more than a turn of his head as a shadow slinks from the jacket, up his throat and cheek trying to snake over his eye before a portal opens up in front of the boss. Illuminating them both in a washed out ethereal glow before he steps through.

Dreads waits outside, gritting his teeth until bone grinds against bone, tick in his jaw that creaks before the voice in the swirling void calls out.

“Come.” And Dreads obeys like any good dog.

The portal disappears in a matter of seconds leaving you to count all the way up to sixty before you will the doll to move. Legs of inky black jutting out where plastic limbs once were, slinking towards where the portal appeared. Lurking around what looks to be a base now that you're really paying attention only to come up empty in your search for an entrance.

Tapping your fingers as you think. Whoever had the portal jinki couldn't always be available right? Plus the big scary boss man didn't seem the type to rely fully on one person especially since one of his goons already proved a failure so there had to be a hidden entrance somewhere.

The doll wanders aimlessly for hours by your command until you spy it, the smallest flutter of a breeze coming from the pile. Kicking your feet as you think of just how good that jacket will feel swallowing up your frame even more so than the stocky build it sat on.

Having the doll wait idle until you see yourself approaching through its dingy glassy eye. The plastic lid and long singed lashes flutter shut as you come to squat near the item. Let your fingers curve over her skull feeling the fuzz of worn down faux hair.

“Thank you.” A breathy whisper before you release the item, letting it rest against the wall where it would surely blend in with all the other discards from Heaven. Sharp claws slipping under the metal pulling harshly waiting for the hinges to whine from the strain of resisting the lock.

It's up high, well above your head before you're pulling your bag off of one of your shoulders. Digging around for the perfect tool, an old ornate letter opener. You use your gift to sharpen the bread to a deadly point, reaching on tiptoes before the blade connects with the lock. Yanking it towards your body and it slices through the metal with ease and the door yawns open. You return the jinki and your mask to your backpack before you wander around the base.

Following the sound of the hum and ignoring the loud slow beat that faintly reminds you of a heart beat. Ignoring the pacing, the clinking of tools, the hiss of pleasure, the electric charge as a comb brushes through hair because all you can hear is the all consuming hum.

Sneaking into a dark room, pitch black and giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the tiny flecks of moon light let in from the small holes in the walls. Holding your breath as you listen, pushing down the hum to hear the deep slow breathing of the man who owns the jinki. Once you've determined he's asleep you tiptoe into the room in a rush spying the dark item hanging on the back of a chair.

“Hello.” A breathy whisper to the jacket as your fingers brush over the fabric, the feeling vibrates in your very marrow and it makes you smile manically. It's heavy even if it is half stitched and stapled together, thick and yet you think you wouldn't overheat under the sun.

Lifting it gently from the chair slipping one arm through makes you a little light headed, the shadow sneaking up your throat in a curious purr. Crawling up your jaw as you go to put your other arm through and when the jacket is fully over your shoulders you sigh slowly. You can smell the previous wearer, a mixture of musky sweat and well worn leather warmed by the sun, it makes you feel good. Relaxed. So you nestle deeper and the shadow comes out further. Caressing over your lips as it starts to work its way up to cover your other eye, slowly, so slowly, the jacket begins to wear you.

Large rough hands slip under the shoulders of the jacket, smooth over the thin fabric of your t-shirt as the coat is pulled away from your body. The shadow retreats.

For now.

You turn to look over your shoulder, face half shrouded in shadow darker than night, the jacket still trying to cling to you. But your focus isn't on the purring from the fabric, it's on the tall broad man who stands behind you. His dark midnight hair is messy from sleep, more strands falling over his forehead than before, eyes dark and cold as they bite into you despite the gentle touch at your back.

He's shirtless himself, clothes mostly discarded at the foot of the bed, only the jacket was placed with care.

You reach around you, grabbing onto his thick forearms with sharp claws, nails hardened with a razor's edge. For whatever reason you hesitate, let it barely poke his skin and only small droplets bead to the surface.

“Careful.” His voice is deep and dark from disuse, having been in a deep enough sleep, it gives him even more of an edge. He leans closer, face impassive and frozen like any marble statue you'd seen in books discarded from the heavens. It is as if he's studying you, pulling the coat away from you gently, slowly and the shadow whines as it returns to the black fabric it came from, “What are you doing here?”

“Your jinki called me.” A half truth, mostly it just hummed from its own great power but the way it whispers to you now, to pull the fabric back up and have the high collar protect your throat gives more truth to your statement. Moving your hands from his skin to avoid a fight, fisting the opening of his jacket almost nervously.

Even after a long stretch of silence he doesn't reply, if he's dissatisfied or pleased with your answer you cannot tell, face still stone cold as his unblinking eyes stare down at you.

“I just love well worn things.” You unclasp your hands from around the opening of the jacket and let him peel it from your frame, “They have so much to tell me.”

The sound is soft and breathy like a confession in mass and it stills his movements. His hands stopping at the crook of your elbows now with the jacket half on and the shadow fully gone. You freeze, pulling in a shallow breath to hold.

You expect to be taunted, laughed at or struck, since that's what normally happened when you claim you could actually hear what the jinki said. Because even among the rejects you didn't belong. Too sharp, too quick, too loud, too cruel or too much. Always always too much until only the jinki liked your company.

Or maybe they just tolerated you since they couldn't move, it's not as if there was anyone else to hear them.

He cradles your jaw, tilting you up to face him instead of looking at the floor.

“There is no shame in that.” His tone and intense gaze soften minutely, missed in the dark as you stare back up at him.

“There isn't?”

“No.” He allows his hands to move on their own, allows his thumb to swipe over the apple of your cheek, “Is that not how jinki becomes jinki?”

Sliding over your throat, fingers slipping under your collar to notice you don't have a com necklace, that you acted alone, tracing your smooth skin. Engulfing and squeezing at the tender column before slowly grazing your cheek and palming the curve of your skull.

“How things and people become precious? Because they are loved?” Monotone as he delivers his lines and you're still too mesmerized to move, “Even if they are discarded by the Heavens and the sky people.”

“What's a sky person? I heard you two earlier. Is it that boy with the cleaners?” You blink up at him owlishly and he sighs deeply. Returns to his task of taking his jinki off of you, following down your exposed skin with his rough palms before gently placing it in your lap for now. You wrap your arms around it like a hug, bringing it to your chest as you watch him. He picks up a clean white button up, leaving a few open at the top before his muscular thighs slip into dark pants.

“No one saw you slip in, little stray?” He asks, holding out his hand towards you, reluctantly you place the heavy duster in his hands. He flips the dark fabric around as he slides his arms into it. Adjusting it just so and now the high collar of his jacket frames his jaw.

“No.” He helps you to your feet from the chair, “I heard them. They're noisy.”

“Hmm.” He hums, fingers slipping under the straps of your backpack earning a jolt from you when he tries to remove it, “Don't worry. You want to stay right?”

You take a step back and like a patient predator he doesn't move.

“Be close to my jinki? Since it loves to hum such sweet songs to you.” He stands as if there were a rod in his back, speaks with little to no emotion and if you were being honest he scares you a little.

Yet at the same time, when he lifts his arm in a silent invention, you step forward. Slipping your arm under his to press your face into his chest. His shirt smells like clean linen and his skin still smells like well worn leather in the sun with that bit of sweat that you hope clings to you.

The jinki purrs its approval before going silent when his arm wraps around you, pulls you closer in an uncharacteristic notion. A part of you thinks this is a farce, that he has other plans for you, that he knows affection, false promises you'll fall for, and patience are how he can trap the feral cat that is you.

“Would you like to be mine, stray?” He's tilting your chin to look into his eyes again, fingers tight on your jaw as he stares down at you with dark rich eyes. Even with your suspicion of ulterior motives your tongue moves all on its own.

“Yes.” Breaking free of his grip to hide your face in his chest again, his heart rate is slow, unhurriedly, and soft while yours roars. This attraction is odd and magnetic when you usually shoved people out of your life, yet here you stood stepping into his shadow most likely becoming just another one of his disposable goons.

“But only for a little while.”

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Chapter 13 // Bad Omens Urban Fantasy Romance

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @mysticdoodlez @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @cookiesupplier @meliferafaerie @concreteemo @itsafullmoon @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @spicywhenspeaking @somewhere-diamond @iknownothingpeople @darling-millicent-aubrey @badomensls @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @darkmxgician

Rosa had never felt more pressure weighing on her as she and Nick hurried towards the elevators and front entrance of the towering Laboratory, where a waiting city cab idled at the curb. With each step, Rosa's heart pounded and she couldn't resist the urge to constantly glance over her shoulder, paranoid that they were being followed or watched. Usually the easygoing, playful Nick was a calming presence, but today his demeanor had shifted - he was intensely alert, his eyes darting around as he subtly surveyed their surroundings, committing details to memory just in case. Rosa could see the tension in his posture, the way he was primed and ready to react at the first sign of trouble.

Once they were safely inside the elevator, headed back to the security of Skytower, Rosa finally allowed herself a moment to focus inward, reaching out with her mind to try and connect with Noah. But to her growing alarm, she couldn't seem to reach him - his presence, which was normally so quick to respond, now felt distant and elusive. Panic started to well up inside her as she strained to make contact, fearing that something had gone wrong. 

Easy Mistress, Noah's familiar and soothing voice echoed in her mind. We are working our way out of the compound but it hasn’t been easy. Master has been getting caught up in more work that people insist he finishes before we leave. 

The implications of the compound trying to deliberately hold them back sent a chill down Rosa's spine, and she struggled to suppress the ominous dread creeping into her thoughts.

I just wish the two of you were home. She hoped he could feel how sad and worried she was, how much she missed them.

You're not alone are you? his voice echoed in her brain.

No, Nick is with me. Rosa's mind was racing as Noah continued to reassure her, even as she entered the apartment. Their conversation quickly fell silent as she began to hastily pack a bag, unsure of exactly what clothes to bring. Thinking quickly, she opted for the practical – a pair of tennis shoes and her most comfortable track suits and sweats. 

She had spent far too long living in the shadows, always on the move, constantly looking over her shoulder in fear. The life of running and sneaking around had become an unsettling, unnerving existence that she desperately wanted to leave behind. Being with Jolly and Noah she thought all that was finally behind her. As she carefully folded her clothes and packed them into her bag, her mind raced with thoughts of escape - meticulously planning out potential routes to slip past security, ways to evade detection, and even contingencies to ditch Nick if necessary. It was a life of constant vigilance and paranoia, never knowing when the other shoe might drop. She paused, waiting for Noah to inevitably protest, to argue that her plan was too risky, that she was being reckless. But the expected objections never came. She wasn’t sure if she was getting better at keeping their thoughts seperate or he was just too busy to notice.

 Changing into one of the solid black track suits and lacing up her sneakers, Rosa pulled the packed bag to the front door, her heart pounding with uncertainty. The afternoon pushed on with no more word from Jolly or Noah about when they’d return. Each minute passing by made her fear rise, she’d seen the future before or maybe she manifested it, whatever it may have been she wasn’t sure. But now when she needed it most she couldn’t summon it at all. Walking the length of her living room twice she pulled her hair back, took it down and pulled it back again before turning to Nick with a desperate look. “Should we just go now, somewhere safe maybe?” 

“Maria said you’d be safe here,” he argued. 

“I don’t feel safe, Nick. Something doesn’t feel right about staying,” she could hear the pleading in her own voice, the back of her throat burning and her eyes starting to sting. 

Nick took a deep breath pushing himself off the wall before nodding his head. “Let me make a call.” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket, before walking down the hallway as he dialed the number. 

Rosa took a deep, shaky breath, heading to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, her hands trembling slightly. She gulped it down, trying to calm her nerves, but the feeling of unease refused to subside. All she knew was that she needed to get out of here, to find somewhere truly safe to hide. 

Her heart leapt to her throat as the front door suddenly burst open, several menacing beasts tearing through the entrance and into her apartment. The hunters in their ferocious, transformed states - their bodies twisted and distorted into horrific, bestial forms. Two of the creatures immediately zeroed in on Rosa, cornering her in the kitchen as she scrambled up onto the countertop, hugging her knees tightly to her chest in a desperate attempt to make herself as small a target as possible. The beasts' black, muzzled faces glared at her viciously, their sharp teeth bared and glistening despite the thick leather straps that kept their jaws clamped shut.

Just then, a terrible, raspy voice cut through the chaos, and Rosa reluctantly lifted her gaze to the doorway. There stood an older gentleman, his posture poised and dignified as he slowly strode into the room, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Dressed in a stylish, grey coat that flowed down to the back of his knees, the man's face was deeply lined, the cruelty in his expression becoming more pronounced as his thin lips curled into a wicked, predatory smile. "Well now," he drawled, his gaze fixated squarely on the terrified Rosa, "You must be Joakim's new pet." 

down the menacing figure before her, cornered and trapped like a caged animal. Every fiber of her being screamed to flee, to escape this terrifying predicament, but her legs felt frozen, paralyzed by the sheer panic coursing through her veins. She desperately wanted to cry out for help, but the words caught in her throat.

She kept her eyes focused on the sinister old man leering at her. His yellowed, crooked teeth were bared in a twisted grin, a predatory look that made Rosa's skin crawl as his piercing gaze settled on the hastily packed bag crumpled by the door. 

"Going somewhere?" he sneered, the menacing tone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. 

Rosa wanted to scream, wanted to run, but she was cornered. She stared at the man, trying her best to remain calm.

Noah, noah I'm scared.

Her mind reached out desperately to him. But no answer.

“No,” she squeaked. 

Two hunters on foot came from the hallway, Nick's arms clasped behind his back as they pushed him along. Forcibly escorting him to thr man who was trespassing in her home.

"Ah, so they've sent you in place of the others, have they?" the man remarked, his tone laced with a sense of authority. He gestured with a crooked finger, and the hunters responded by shoving Nick even closer, their actions brimming with an underlying menace. Nick remained steadfast, his expression stoic, refusing to utter a word, his only response a defiant glare directed at the man before him.

The man's gaze then shifted to Rosa, and she felt her heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. He turned back to Nick his impatience written all over his face.

“ Tell me, where are Maria and Oli?" he demanded, his voice dripping with a barely concealed impatience. Rosa's mind raced, the mention of their names sending a chill down her spine. Were they missing? She couldn't help but wonder, her anxiety building with each passing moment. The man's patience seemed to wear thin as Nick maintained his silence, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, he ordered the hunters to escort Nick away. Nick struggled valiantly, desperately attempting to free himself from their unyielding grip, but his efforts were futile against the sheer strength and determination of his captors.

Turning his attention back to Rosa, the man's expression darkened. "And you," he began, his words laden with a sense of foreboding, "You shall face trial." Rosa's eyes widened in confusion and alarm. 

"Trial?" she cried, her voice tinged with a growing sense of dread. The man's response was a weary sigh, as if the weight of the situation rested heavily upon his shoulders. 

"Morgan," he uttered, and from the corner of her eye, Rosa witnessed the hunter at her feet shift, rising to his full, imposing stature. Towering over her, the hunter let out a sickening growl, his muscles bulging as if he had been fueled by a steady diet of steroids. Without warning, he snatched Rosa's arm with a vice-like grip, and before she could even react, he plunged a syringe filled with a familiar purple hue deep into her flesh, eliciting a blood-curdling scream from Rosa as the potent substance coursed through her veins.

***

As Jolly sat at his desk, the spreadsheet Layla had insisted he complete for the upcoming taxes loomed before him, the due date still a full seven months away. He protested and argued even suggested taking the work home, hoping to tackle it in the comfort and privacy of his own office space, but Layla had pressed him to finish it right then and there. He thought it best not to argue, setting to work his mind constantly drifting to Rosa, who was alone at home while he and Noah were detained. The air felt heavy and charged, ever since Maria's call that morning - causing Jolly and Noahs nerves to be frayed and hyper aware of everything. Noah had a direct line of contact to Rosa but even that wasn’t enough, Jolly could tell Noah was desperate to get home-as was he, he was worried and missed their girl just as much as Noah did.

With a growing sense of unease, Jolly furiously punched in the final numbers, desperate to complete the task and return home as soon as possible. As he attached the file to an email and dialed Layla's number, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss - the usual routine had been disrupted, and found himself constantly looking over his shoulder. He pressed send on the email, fingers trembling slightly, mind racing with unanswered questions and a growing sense of foreboding about what might await them when the two finally returned home to Rosa.

He waited patiently as the phone rang, fingers drumming lightly on the surface of his borrowed desk as he slowly straightened up his workstation. 

"Layla Hersh's office," the secretary greeted warmly. 

“Yes, this is Joakim Karlsson, please inform Miss Layla that I have emailed her the statements and spreadsheets she requested and if there is any discrepancy or concern I will happily adjust them when I return home.” 

“Of course, sir. Noted.” he clicked the phone off, tossing it on his desk as he finished cleaning up the mess he’d made. 

“Mistress is worried, master.” Noah leaned against the doorframe, his dark hoodie and pants giving him a distinguished yet dangerous air as he guarded the halls, hoping no one would stop us again as we tried to make our escape. His brow was furrowed with worry, his normally well-kept hair ruffled from the numerous times he had run his hands through it in frustration. Despite the dark sunglasses shielding his eyes, the tension in his expression was palpable - it was clear something was weighing heavily on his mind. As he fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, I could sense his unease.

As Jolly pulled the worn office jacket over his shoulders, a sense of unease washed over him. "Is she safe?" Hr asked, voice laced with concern.

"Yes, Nick is with her," he admitted, "but I'd rather it be us."  the worry in Noah’s tone obvious, and it only heightened Jolly’s own anxiety. Without hesitation, he crossed the room, scooping up his bag and tossing Noah's in his direction. Thankfully, Noah had already packed the rest of their belongings this morning while Jolly was in a meeting, ready to make a swift exit if needed.

Cupping Noah's cheek tenderly, Jolly leaned in, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. "I know, pet," he murmured, his heart aching to see him so distressed. "Let's get home, and the three of us can get away for some much-needed space." Noah nodded in agreement, stealing one more quick kiss before they headed out the door together, their steps quickening with each passing moment. 

The scent of ozone and damp earth wafted through the parking garage, a harbinger of the tumultuous weather to come. Summer's sultry embrace was just around the corner, a season that would soon bring with it a relentless onslaught of sweltering heat and violent thunderstorms. Jolly pressed the button on his fob hearing the chirp of their Denali down the aisle of parked cars. The bone-chilling sound that suddenly erupted behind him caused him to spin around in alarm. 

There was Noah, on his knees his bag lying forgotten on the ground as he clutched the sides of his head, his fangs bared and his eyes blacked out completely. A guttural growl and a scream of pure agony tore from his throat, the primal sounds sending a shiver down my spine. Dropping to one knee beside him, Jolly tried to discern what was wrong, but the tormented cries continued unabated as Noah doubled over, slamming his fist against the unyielding concrete. Noah's normally calm and composed demeanor shattered, replaced by a visceral display of unrestrained pain and anguish.

“Noah,” Jolly screamed over him trying desperately to get the hunter to focus, “Noah, what’s wrong?” 

Just as rapidly as the episode had begun, it now drew to a close. The wild, animalistic snarling subsided, his bared teeth sliding back into place with an audible click. The unnatural black hue that had flooded his irises receded, the warm brown tones returning to his eyes. A sheen of moisture glistened on his skin as he heaved for breath, the adrenaline rush that had fueled his frenzy now fading. Tears welled up, spilling down his flushed cheeks as he struggled to regain control, the remnants of whatever had overtaken him still leaving him shaken and disoriented. 

Jolly grasped Noah's face firmly in his hands, searching his eyes with deep concern. "Noah, pet, what's the matter? Is it Rosa?" the distress etched across his features as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving with each rapid, shallow inhalation.

"The-the," he stammered, pausing to swallow hard and compose himself, "The magistrate has her." 

“Where is she headed?” Jolly asked frantically. 

“I don’t know,” Noah sobbed. “I can't....I'm....She's....gone."

[fierymiasma]

✰ Homecoming ✰ Part 2 // Dark!Sebastian x f!MC

Summary: She isn't sure if allowing an escaped Azkaban prisoner to stay with her is a good idea.

Sebastian does everything in his power to convince her otherwise.

Tags: Slight!Choking, Dark!Sebastian, AgedUp! AU, Azkaban!Sebastian, angst, Making out, Jealous!Sebastian, Obsession, Possessiveness

A/N: Since this will be a series, I decided to name my MC for ease of writing. Her name is Beatrice Booker!

Words: 3.3k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

Part 1 Here!

The first thing that she felt when she came back to consciousness was the sharp piercing pain from her back wound.  Her head nodded forward sleepily before something sharp jabbed her right in the eye.  Her head snapped back in pain as her eyes started watering.  Blinking drowsily, she looked at the wand in her hand that had traitorously stabbed her in the eye.  Now, fully awake, she was hit was several realizations at once.

Beatrice Booker had fallen asleep sitting upright on her bed, back against the wall, wand in her hand, ready for a surprise attack.  She had planned the stay up the whole night, watching Sebastian as he slept for the moment that he would wake up and….and…well she wasn't sure what she was expecting him to do but certainly something nefarious and evil.

Fuck she was getting soft.  What would Professor Hecat think of her, or worse yet Professor Sharp who always preached the importance of constant vigilance?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.  What in Merlin's name was she thinking?  She must have been going crazy to pull off what she did.  Breaking her crush friend out of the most heavily guarded prison in the wizarding world.  Kissing him in the most heavily guarded prison in the wizarding world.  Merlin, that kiss.  His lips,  his teeth.  His tongue.  There was something….dangerous about Sebastian.  How was she, one of the greatest duelist of this generation so easily defeated by a simple pair of lips?

It…it must be some form of new wandless dark magic Sabastian managed to pick up during his time in Azkaban.  Yes, that was the most logical explanation as to why his kiss and tongue were so addictive.  So warm and inviting.  So…  Her whole face went red.  Stop.  Don't even go there.  Don't think about Sebastian's mouth.

Speaking of….where was he?  Off to prepare an ambush?  Slowly, as to not make any sudden noises, she crept from her bed, silently.  She held her wand out, ready for a fight.

She didn't have to get very far.  There, at the end of the bed, was Sebastian.  He was curled onto his side on the hard wooden floor of her cottage, fast asleep without a pillow or blanket anywhere near him.

Beatrice Booker flushed, suddenly ashamed of her paranoia.  She stowed away her wand.  Deek would be ashamed at what a bad host she had been.  She should have at least offered the available couch or conjured up a new bed for him.  Sebastian probably hadn't even thought to ask for them, either too polite of a guest or just so used to the awful accommodations of Azkaban.

The thought made her feel even worse about how she treated Sebastian. 

Crouching down above the sleeping man, she examined his face.  Without the shadows of the prison bars, she finally got a better look at him in the daylight.  Asleep, he looked so soft, as if he were never capable of the awful things he did.  He looked boyish, and young, as if the weight of Azkaban had never touched his soul.  His freckles still dusted his cheeks and eyebrows still thick and handsome.  His jaw had a hint of facial hair, something that she was still getting used to, and she slightly mourned the baby faced cute Sebastian from her youth.

And his hair…it wasn't as long as it was it Azkaban, he must had cut it sometime after getting out.  The strands were a bit uneven as if he had cut it himself.  Some curls cascaded over his forehead.  She missed his gelled hair from their youth. 

Without thinking, her thin fingers reached out.  She yearned to brush his hair away from his face, to see more of his carefree visque.

The second that soft pads of her fingers touched his brow, he jerked awake.  Before the either of them could fully react, his arm shot out, a rough hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing tightly.  Sebastian was hyperventilating, his chest heaving with exertion.  Expression clouded with sleep, he tightened his grip around her windpipe.  Sebastian peered about wild-eyed, trying to take stock of his new surroundings.  Panicking, Beatrice's hands scrabbled at the hand around her throat.  She couldn't breathe.  Couldn't even scream out for him to stop.

"S….Se---Seb….' She gasped.  Her eyes pleaded for him to stop.

Was this it?  Sebastian's true nature?  After every adventure she had been through, was this how she was going to die?  Payback for the years she had stolen from him.

Ominis and Anne were right.  She was a fool playing with fire.

The primal fear in his eyes slowly blinked away as he realized who he was choking.  His hand released her as he withdrew his hand quickly as if it had been scalding hot.  She gasped for air, thankful for the fresh oxygen flowing into her lungs. 

Sebastian stared at his own hand in horror, the blood draining from his ashen face.  He stood, frozen, terrified of what he had just done.

He breathed in sharply.  "I'm sorry.  I hadn't meant…I wasn't trying…'m sorry, Bea, I didn't."

She coughed.  "It's…it's fine.  Forgive me, I shouldn't have snuck up on you."

He hugged himself tightly, hiding his hands by his sides.  "I'm sorry.  I hadn't meant to hurt you.  I thought you were the dementors."  Sebastian whispered so quietly, he might have been talking more to himself than to her.

Gingerly, she massaged her throat.  It felt tender and bruised.  Sebastian had gotten a lot stronger than she had last seen him.

She wondered what that strength was capable of.

Her cheeks colored shamefully as her mind wandered towards an obscene direction.  She coughed politely.  "Breakfast?"

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Deek had once told her that it was easier for witches and wizards (and really all folk) to have difficult conversations on full belly instead of an empty one.  So she waited until they had finished their breakfast and tried to ignore the painful way that Sebastian ate her mediocre cooking like a man who had been starved. 

"You're a free man now, Sebastian."  She was turned away from Sebastian as she washed the dirty dishes, too nervous to look at him in the face.  "What is it that you plan on doing with your life?"  She asked.  A part of her was almost scared to find what the answer would be.

"Be with you."  Sebastian answered her so quickly, that Beatrice doubted he put any thought behind it.

Her hands paused, dripping with soapy water.  Her eyes flickered upwards, to look at Sebastian's reflection in the kitchen windo.  He was lounging at the dining table peacefully.  Sebastian's chin was propped up on his chin, relaxed, as if he had already made himself a home.

She rolled her eyes, huffing at his response.  "No more of your silly jokes, Sebastian.  By no means do you plan to spend your freedom chained up to boring ol' me."

He was silent.  She frowned, puzzled.  Looking back up at the window, she was surprised to see that the seat was now empty.

Where did he go?

"Do you really think that lowly of yourself?"  A low masculine voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped, dropping a clean plate back in the soapy water.  When did he get up and sneak up on her? 

Sebastian was next to her, and suddenly, very, very close.  His eyes narrow with irritation.  "You have a magic beyond human comprehension.  Why continue to just sit here in Feldcroft waiting to grow old and forgotten?  Together, the both of us have the strength to take what is ours.  Come with me.  We could rule the world together.  Take what is ours."

The small hairs on her arm stood to attention.  The quiescent ancient magic that she had suppressed threatened to burst through her veins.  She was sickened to find how a part of her was entertaining his suggestion.  To follow in Isidora's footsteps. 

Misreading her hesitancy, Sebastian backpedaled.  Perhaps he had come on too strong with her.   

"I…I simply want to be by your side."  Sebastian's heart stumbled over its own rhythm.  "We could do whatever you want…be here or simply run away together."  His voice cracked.  "I don't care, so long as I am with you." 

She bit her bottom lip.  Was Sebastian always this vulnerable around her? He always seemed so confident and brash when they were younger.  Sure they became fast friends but…to profess this strong of feelings for a girl that he met a decade ago?

Clearly, his time at Azkaban had warped his mind, twisted it to think that she was even worthy of his time or affection.  As soon as he realized that she was the cause of all his misfortunate, Sebastian would smarten up and leave her.  Settle down with someone who was…better for him.

Sebastian's sick mind was all her fault.  If only she hadn't sent him to Azkaban.

She squared her jaw, decision made.  Sebastian would stay with her.  She could fix him, so he would realize that this…these feelings he had for her…were all lies, some type of coping skill he had developed to fight against the dementors.

After all, it was the least she could do for him.

"Stay with me here, Sebastian."  She decided,  "Stay with me here in Feldcroft.  You will always be able to find a home here with me."

Sebastian beamed. His entire face was lit with a glow that mirrored the warmth in his heart.  His slime, infectious and genuine, was so inviting that she couldn't help but smile back at him. 

He looked exactly how he used to…back then.  With the sunlight hitting his brown irises, she could almost pretend that the same cocky 15 year old boy was in front of her now. 

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Secluded in a far corner of the library, Sebastian and Beatrice, hid away from Madam Scribner's prying eyes.  Sebastian loved these moments where he got to be alone with her.  With her entirely focused on the schoolwork in front of her, he could stare at her unabashedly for hours on end. 

His voice was light and teasing.  "You got be pulling my leg.  You against three cave trolls, all at the same time?  Now, I bet that was a duel worth seeing."

She giggled.  Their spellbooks long been completely forgotten.  "Sebastian, You don't think a girl is capable of fending for herself?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes fondly, nudging the girl with his shoulder.  Even through their thick robes, he could feel the warmth of her body heat.  "Far from it.  I'm only jealous I didn't get to watch.  You must bring me along next time."

She tucked her hair behind her ears, blushing under his gaze.  "Of course, n-next time."

His eyes disappeared behind his smile.  "Next time."

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

Beatrix Booker dropped her sponge into the water, soapy dishes forgotten.

Sebastian Sallow was now next to her in the Kitchen.  His body was incredibly close to her's.  A part of her thought he was a bit too close but another part of her selfishly preferred it.

Words escaped him as he tried to find the words to express himself.

"Beatrice, I-"

KNOCK!  KNOCK!  KNOCK!

The fragile bubbles from the overfilling sink popped, breaking whatever was going on in between them.   The stranger knocking on the door had completely killed whatever Sebastian was about to say to her.

Sebastian stepped in front of her, hovering protectively between her and the door.  Instinctually, he had dug into his pockets for his wand, prepared for a duel.  She couldn't help but roll her eyes in fond exasperation.  "Sebastian, it's all right.  It's just Garrett."

"Garreth?  Garreth Weasley?  From Hogwarts?  He comes to your house?"  Sebastian's stomach dropped.  It was naïve of him to think that just because she was unwed, she wasn't being courted by anyone. 

She gauged his strange reaction carefully.  It seemed like any tiny thing could set the other man off.  "Yes…he does…when I send him owls asking him to come over." 

She moved to get the door for their new guest.

Sebastian stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the front door. 

"You send him owls?"  Sebastian scowled.

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion.  She shouldered past Sebastian, walking towards her entranceway.  "Yes, Sebastian, Owl posts.  How else am I supposed to talk with the bloke?"

His lips curled.  He'd much rather her not talk to him at all. 

In the short time Sebastian had been here, he found himself learning a lot about her life.  For example, Garreth fucking Weasley felt comfortable enough to welcome himself to the private home of an unwed, very single witch.

It was very fortunate Sebastian was here to put an end to this nonsense. 

"Beatrice?"  A very familiar, very annoying, voice called from beyond the front door.  "Are you awake?"

She hadn't even gotten a chance to wash up this morning, having gotten a late start thanks to a certain someone.  Looking at herself in the entranceway mirror, she fussed with her hair so she didn't look completely deranged.

This did not go unnoticed by Sebastian.  "What does Garreth Weasley want from you?"  Sebastian asked, more to himself than to her. 

She raised her eyebrow, still trying to tame the stray flyaways.  "He's a potioneer.  He delivers potions to me."

Likely story.  Beatrice was one of the most skilled potioneers in their class. What did she need from someone like Garreth?  Unless this "potion" was just an flimsy excuse for the former Gryffindor to make a pass on someone who was so clearly Sebastian's. 

"Beatrice!  Wake up already!  It's well past noon!"  The annoying git called from beyond the front door.

"Just a second!"  She called out making the final adjustments to her appearance.  Finding her presentation decent enough, she moved to grab the knob of the front door.

A coarse, rough hand firmly grasped at her slim wrist, holding her in place.

Beatrice huffed.  "Sebastian.  What is your problem?  It is quite rude to ignore the man.  He came all this way-"

He was hovering close to her.  The muscles in his jaw flicked angrily.  "I.  Don't.  Care."

Ugh.  It seems as though she would have to make him relearned the manners that former Sebastian once had.  "Sebastian, let go."

"No."  He growled.

She stilled.   Sebastian had never once denied a blatant request from her like that.  Alarmed by his words, she took a proper look at him. 

There was a predatory expression on his flushed face.  His lips were pulled back exposing clenched teeth.

"What's the matter with you?"  With her trapped wrist, she pulled Sebastian closer to her to give him a proper talking to.  "It's just Garreth.  He's harmless." She moved to get the door for their new guest.

"I don't want him to see you like this."  Sebastian sneered, pulling her closer to him protectively.

Now she was truly loss.  She was no different today than she was yesterday or the day before.  "See me like what?"

See her so beautiful, so gentle and soft, and so unclaimed….

…Sebastian had a solution for this.

Using the muscle he had built up in Azkaban, he pushed her back against the front door with a rather loud bang.  She gasped in surprise.  Biceps stranding, Sebastian hoisted her up off the ground, her back sliding upwards.  Fumbling with shock, she wrapped her legs loosely around his waist, less she fall onto the floor.

This was scandalous.  Obscene.  Completely bonkers.  Garreth was right fucking there, separated only by a wooden door. Sebastian was behaving animalistically.  She should stop him.  It was improper for a woman of this day and age to have a man in the house much less, touching her in this manner.  A real proper well-behaved witch would use some wandless magic and depulso him away.  Properly smack him for good riddance.

So…why didn't she?

Sensing her unspoken interest, he started nosing at her neck.  He inhaled the sweet scent that he had longed for over the past ten years of his life. 

Her breath hitched.

"Scared of me, sweetheart?"  His breath tickled the shell of her ear.

Whatever snarky reply she had prepared was lost in her throat. 

"If you don't want this, say the word.  Say that you're not absolutely loving this, and I'll leave you alone with Garreth fucking Weasley."

Her chest ached with a fluttery sensation.  Was Sebastian truly telling the truth?  Could she trust him?  Fuck it.  Manners be damned.  Twisting her hands into fabric of his shirt, she pulled him closer.  Merlin, she never wanted to let go.   

"Is everything alright in there?"  Weasley called, interrupting their bliss. "I heard a loud noise!  Beatrice, shouldn't move so much when you're injured!"

"Tell him to go away."  Sebastian growled against her warm neck.  Gentle lips trailed kisses on the angle of her jaw.  "Tell him you're mine."

She tried to same something semi-intelligent but only whimpered in response.

Sebastian's canine brushed itself against her carotid.  He nipped at her pulse point, so eager to consume her.  Latching onto her neck, he nibbled at the tender skin there.

A hiss escaped her clenched teeth.  "Ow!  Sebastian, what are you? A vampire?"

Sebastian's tongue ran over the fresh bite mark apologetically.  His mouth travelled elsewhere on her exposed neck, exploring uncharted territory.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?"  She half-heartedly tried to protest.  "Garreth's on the other side of the-'

Mentioning the other man's name was perhaps not her brightest move as a rough growl ripped its way from Sebastian's throat.  He sucked at the flesh above her collarbone, no doubt leaving a mark to claim her as his.

She shivered with desire.  All her thoughts seem to melt away and were replaced with the euphoric satisfaction of finally being complete.  All those years alone, by herself in this sad small house.  She felt whole with Sebastian.  Her surroundings, her worries, her nagging thoughts seemed to melt away under his touch.  Her heart-

-"You okay in there?"  Garreth's voice sounded genuinely concerned now.  And a part of her feel bad that she was ignoring a dear friend.  "I..know you've been going through a lot, with Sallow passing away and all." 

"Merlin, does he every shut up?"  Sebastian grumbled into her hair. 

This situation was going to escalate quickly if she didn't regain control.  "I-I'm…ahhh Sebastian, fuck, give me a minute."  She raised her voice louder so it could be heard from outside.  "I'm sorry Garreth, I'm not quite feeling myself!" 

Sebastian snorted.  She nipped his lip in retaliation.

"Can you leave the healing potions on the welcome mat?" She shouted  "I'll pick it up later!"

There was a long stretch of silence.  For a second she was wondered that Garreth would find her behavior so suspicious that he would demand entry and the two of them would be caught in such a compromising position.

Well…now that she thought about it, it was probably more suspicious that she was harboring a famously dead now escaped prisoner in her small cottage. 

Finally, after several heartbeats of painful silence, Garreth relented.  "All right, fine.  Your potions will be out here whenever you're ready.  But you can't keep ignoring your friends forever.  It's been a month since….you know….  Poppy, Natty, and I…we're worried sick about you!"  

Guilt twisted in her gut at his words.  Her mouth was so dry.  Her head felt so foggy.  "Thank you, Garreth!"  She called out.

The hands on her hips tightened their grip on her.  No doubt leaving bruise marks in his wake. 

Once he heard the sound of retreating footsteps, Sebastian returned his focus on her neck, no doubt, upset that her attention was being taken away by another man.

As time passed, and the rest of her once pristine neck was marked up, Beatrice wondered if she would ever be capable of letting go of Sebastian Sallow.

[alastors-airwaves]

In the Hella-Omegaverse, a pup (or child) who is packless could experience both physical and emotional consequences, as the lack of a pack's protective and nurturing energy could leave them vulnerable to various conditions. Here are some potential illnesses or complications that could arise:

Separation Sickness

Symptoms: Weakness, lethargy, loss of appetite, and emotional distress.

Cause: Without the emotional and physical support of a pack, a pup could experience intense feelings of loneliness and insecurity. This can weaken their immune system and cause them to fall ill more easily.

Soul Draining/Withering

Symptoms: Rapid fatigue, paleness, inability to heal properly, and general physical frailty.

Cause: A pack provides emotional nourishment, and being packless can cause the pup’s soul to wither or weaken. This may result in their life force depleting over time, leaving them vulnerable to demonic energy or other supernatural threats.

Note: The harsh and competitive nature of Hell could worsen this condition, making the pup easy prey for stronger demons or entities seeking to consume their weakened soul.

Instinct Dysregulation

Symptoms: Uncontrollable emotional outbursts, difficulty managing primal urges, disorientation, and loss of control over their instincts.

Cause: Without a pack to provide structure and guidance, a pup’s instincts may go haywire. They could struggle to regulate their emotional and physical responses, especially in stressful situations.

Note: A packless pup might become erratic or dangerously aggressive, unable to control their Alpha, Beta, or Omega instincts in Hell’s chaotic environment. This could lead to violent outbursts or self-destructive behavior.

Pack Deprivation Syndrome

Symptoms: Chronic fatigue, failure to thrive, weakened immune system, and delayed development.

Cause: In the Omegaverse, packs provide vital social and physical support that helps pups grow and develop. Being packless could stunt their emotional and physical growth, leading to long-term health issues.

Emotional Despair Disorder

Symptoms: Anxiety, depression, nightmares, and emotional instability.

Cause: Being without a pack could lead to deep feelings of abandonment and isolation, causing long-term emotional and psychological trauma. Pups might develop chronic anxiety or depression without the comfort and security of a family unit.

Defensive Hyperactivity Syndrome

Symptoms: Hyper-vigilance, paranoia, inability to rest or relax, and a constant state of fight-or-flight.

Cause: Without a pack to offer safety, a pup might remain constantly on edge, always feeling the need to defend themselves. This heightened state of alertness can lead to exhaustion and eventual collapse.

Soul Starvation

Symptoms: Feeling empty, disconnected, or hollow; difficulty forming bonds or understanding social connections; eventual mental and physical decline.

Cause: Packs provide essential soul-nourishing bonds that help pups feel connected and grounded. Without these connections, a pup may feel as though something vital is missing, leading to existential emptiness and eventual mental collapse.

Failure to Bond Syndrome

Symptoms: Difficulty forming future bonds, social anxiety, withdrawal from others, and distrust of relationships.

Cause: Pups who grow up packless may have difficulty forming bonds with others later in life. They may become emotionally distant or suspicious of those who try to get close to them, fearing abandonment or betrayal.

Note: Since bonds and deals are often transactional in Hell, a packless pup might become hyper-aware of the dangers of trusting others, making them emotionally stunted and hard to connect with as they grow older.

[lionheartedmusings]

there's a lot of ways pomme is an incredibly emotionally healthy child, a great communicator, very capable and kind, funny... she's got a lot of baghera in her. and frankly, a lot of etoiles and antoine and aypierre in her too.

but fuck if it doesn't hit me like a brick just how much like bad she is too? something about their guilt over things they can't control when it comes to other people, about their paranoia and constant vigilance, about the way their fear is instantly broken if they need to protect someone, about their icy cold resolute need for revenge, about their controlled anger.

i don't mean to disregard any of pomme's parents' influence on her, that's not what this post is about, it's about... how pomme was ALREADY like this, and that's why bad and her gravitated towards each other, even if subconsciously.

a shame she got a moral compass from mom tho

[loveletter2you]

i totally understand wanting to look young and take care of your skin etc. but also so much of this like ultra-vigilance to make sure you age as slowly as possible does not seem worth it when it also means like trying not to use your facial muscles & staying out of the sun & constant reapplication of products do you know what i mean like it’s good to take care of your skin but not at the expense of like constant paranoia about your behaviors bc they may possibly lead to wrinkles like is it worth it bc you MIGHT look young when you’re older? like is it not ultimately better to age naturally but without constant anxiety about visibly aging? like when people online are like i bought this water bottle to specifically not get wrinkles around my mouth <3 im like this doesn’t seem worth the effort like just accept the wrinkles

[wolfythewitch]

Wolfy I remember some sbi thing where you linked each of them to one of The Oh Hellos four winds album things (is it the time loop fic? Can't remember). What was your reasoning behind each of those? Super curious you always have those tasty parallels and thematic things that work so well

Uhhh well I did do that on the time loop fic yeah but I also made a post a while back about it

Zephyrus for Phil is the most obvious, but I also associated it with him way before syndicate was made just because it fits, y'know?

I mainly associated it with his hardcore world, especially these lyrics. But these ones also feel very c!Phil. Immortal and doomed to love and lose. I think that's the most human part of him.

If you watch his hc streams it pretty much makes sense on its own. I love s4, the way he's able to build something so clearly magical in a way? I described his world once as a world for gods to walk in, and I think that's a pretty neat descriptor for it.

For Techno I picked Eurus, because one it's gives that nice little duo of West and East for emduo, but also Eurus feels like a song about wanting. I think it fits pretty well with Techno's constant cycle of violence, despite the fact that he's tried to sit back and retire. He's a warrior, a god's vassal, and so Fortune's wheel spins with every battle and war, every time he cheats death.

For Wilbur and Tommy, I was picking between Notos and Boreas for them because both fit, but in the end I picked Notos for Wilbur.

The lyrics themselves are pretty self explanatory, and I think works really well for his spiralling and paranoia. The way the tides lapped him up until he couldn't breathe, and in the end all that water came gushing out into a destructive explosion. And he let go

So that leaves Tommy with Boreas, which I think is a pretty good song for his character especially as the story progressed.

His story is a lot about sacrifice. His discs, friends, home, he gave a lot. I remember comparing him to a fire once, in my fic.

He never truly knew Tommy. Not like Techno or Wilbur did. He learned of him through Wilbur's letters, and then from the brief time he's spent living under Techno's home. Every version was different. The letters described him like a fire, bright and boisterous and lively. The boy that lived under the floorboards felt like embers, snuffed out and a dying dim red instead of bright yellow. And when he had first met Tommy, back after the explosion, he was like candlelight, as if a vigil held to mourn the lost, standing in front of the caved in room with a pickaxe and a shovel, tears streaming down his soot smeared face, looking as if he wanted to dig out the body that was no longer there.

And I thought that was also pretty fitting haha. He's a very lively kid, but time and time again his flame has been close to being snuffed out. And time and time again, he's shown that in the end, he's willing to give and give even if it means there won't be much of him left. Because he loves, to the point of ruin

[junophernelia]

The Name of Blasphemy

Vampire Hannibal X Monster Hunter Will Graham

Part 2: The Beast is Given a Mouth to Utter Proud Words.

No warnings, 1.9k words, Will and Hannibal have their first dinner. Will dreams after. Last chapter

The grand dining room was everything Will expected: dark wood panels, high ceilings, and a massive chandelier hanging overhead, casting a warm glow on the richly set table. Candles flickered in silver holders, their light reflected off polished cutlery and fine china. Everything about the room screamed wealth and refinement, but it also felt cold, detached.

Will sat at one end of the long table, his eyes scanning the room for hidden corners or exits. A habit. He didn’t trust any place where he couldn’t see all the ways out. The quiet tick of a clock somewhere deep in the house was the only sound that broke the stillness.

At the other end of the table, Hannibal sat calmly, poised as always, with a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. He was the picture of elegance, his movements deliberate and graceful as he sliced into his food, like someone who’d mastered the art of control. “You seem... uneasy, Mr. Graham,” Hannibal remarked, his voice as smooth as the wine in his glass. He didn’t look up, but Will could feel his attention like a weight. “Perhaps you’re not accustomed to such formal settings?”

Will smirked, cutting into the meat in front of him—some kind of rare roast that looked far too expensive for his taste. “Not exactly my usual dinner scene,” he replied, glancing up at Hannibal. “My diet’s more beans cooked over an open fire. Or whatever stew the inn can scrape together. You know, simple man.” “Of course,” Hannibal said with a nod, unbothered by Will’s tone. “But I believe there’s something to be said for a well-prepared dish, don’t you think? It’s an art, really. One must appreciate the finer things in life, even if they don’t come naturally.” He raised his glass in a casual toast. “To new experiences.”

Will eyed him, lifting his glass half-heartedly in response. “Yeah, well, sometimes new experiences taste like pretension.” Hannibal chuckled softly, setting his glass down with a delicate clink. “It’s only pretension if there’s no substance behind it. I assure you, this meal is quite substantial.”

Will stabbed at a piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “I’ll take your word for it. You’re the expert here.” “Hardly an expert,” Hannibal replied, his smile widening. “Just someone who enjoys the finer details. I find them... illuminating.” “Right.” Will’s eyes narrowed slightly as he put down his fork. “That why you’ve got me here, then? To savor the finer details?” Hannibal’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re far too interesting a guest to simply ignore, Mr. Graham. Besides, I suspect you don’t allow many people to get close enough to... savor you, as you put it.”

Will snorted, leaning back in his chair. “People don’t usually get the chance to try. The ones that do don’t stick around long.” “Is that by your design, or theirs?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

Will’s eyes flicked up to meet Hannibal’s, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Depends on the person, I guess. Most people don’t get the appeal of a guy who sleeps with one eye open and carries enough silver to ward off a small army.” “Perhaps they lack imagination,” Hannibal mused. “I find there’s great beauty in vigilance. It suggests a mind that never rests, a constant pursuit of... something greater.”

Will’s smirk widened as he picked up his glass again, swirling the wine lazily. “You make paranoia sound like a virtue.” Hannibal’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps in your case, it is.” There was a brief silence as they both returned to their meals, the soft clink of cutlery filling the room. Will was still on edge, but he couldn’t help noticing the ease with which

Hannibal commanded the space around him. Every movement was purposeful, every glance measured. It wasn’t just charm—it was control. “You’ve got a lot of people convinced you’re some kind of saint,” Will said, his voice casual but sharp. “Generous lord, protector of the village. Hannibal didn’t flinch, instead taking another sip of wine before responding. “It’s only natural to be wary of what you don’t understand.”

Will’s gaze locked with Hannibal’s, his blue eyes hard and unyielding. “People like you don’t do things out of the goodness of their hearts. There’s always something else.” Hannibal’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened slightly, an undercurrent of something unreadable passing beneath his otherwise calm expression. “You may find, in time, that my intentions are more straightforward than you assume.”

Will’s lips curled into a sarcastic grin. “Yeah? And what are those intentions?” Hannibal leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just a fraction. “To show you that not everything is as black and white as you believe. That sometimes, the monster isn’t the one standing in front of you.”

Will’s smirk faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Is that supposed to reassure me?” Hannibal sat back again, his smile returning to its usual charming curve. “No, Mr. Graham. It’s supposed to make you curious.”

Will didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. Hannibal watched him for a long moment, the tension between them palpable yet oddly comfortable, as though they were both playing a game neither of them wanted to win just yet. The rest of the meal passed in quiet conversation, but beneath every word was the same underlying tension—one that neither man was willing to break.

Later that night, Will lay rigid in the bed, the soft sheets foreign against his skin. Sleep was elusive, as if the comfort of the opulent room only made it harder to find. The plush mattress, likely the most luxurious he'd encountered in years, felt more like a trap than a sanctuary. He’d grown accustomed to rough nights spent in barns, under open skies, or in dingy inns where every sound kept him on edge. Here, in this lavish bedchamber, the stillness felt suffocating. Despite all his instincts, despite years of training to sniff out the foulness of the monsters he hunted, he found himself intrigued by the Count in a way that both repulsed and captivated him. The image of the count, with his sharp features and unreadable eyes, loomed in Will’s mind. He tried to shake it off, but the harder he resisted, the more vivid the man's presence became. Something about Hannibal's demeanor, the calm power in his gaze, pulled at a part of Will he couldn’t easily explain. It gnawed at him, a feeling that nestled deep, even as his mind screamed against it.

.The memory of their meeting replayed in fragments—Hannibal’s smooth voice, his deliberate movements, the way his gaze seemed to penetrate through every defense Will had built over the years. Despite everything he knew, everything he had trained for, Will couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward the count. It was irrational, dangerous even, but it gnawed at him all the same. Here, in this grand estate with its suffocating grandeur.

Will's body sank deeper into the plush mattress, the weight of exhaustion finally dragging him into the abyss of sleep. But his rest was far from peaceful. The moment his eyes closed, his mind began to twist and bend, plunging him into a strange, feverish dream.

He stood in the middle of a fog-drenched forest, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and decay. The trees towered around him, their gnarled branches curling toward the sky like skeletal hands, their bark slick with an unnatural sheen, as though the forest itself was alive—watching him. A heavy, oppressive darkness hung between the trees, so thick that it pressed down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Somewhere in the distance, a raven croaked, its cry echoing through the stillness, eerie and foreboding.

Will’s hand instinctively reached for his knife, but his fingers closed around empty air. He was unarmed, vulnerable. The forest seemed to shift and pulse around him, alive with the whispers of unseen creatures, and somewhere beyond the trees, something—no, someone—was watching him. The fog parted, revealing a path. It wound through the forest, leading to a crumbling stone manor perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, silhouetted against a sickly yellow moon. The manor’s towers stretched up into the sky like claws, and its windows gleamed with an unnatural light. It was the same manor where he had fallen asleep, yet in this dream, it seemed older, more twisted, as though the very stone had been corrupted by centuries of malevolence. Drawn forward by some invisible force, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps soundless on the damp earth. The trees loomed closer as he passed, their bark now pulsing with dark veins, like blood vessels pushing sluggish, rotten blood through the heart of the forest. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. He stumbled, his foot sinking into the ground, which gave way beneath him like decayed flesh.

The fog parted, revealing a path. It wound through the forest, leading to a crumbling stone manor perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, silhouetted against a sickly yellow moon. The manor’s towers stretched up into the sky like claws, and its windows gleamed with an unnatural light. It was the same manor where he had fallen asleep, yet in this dream, it seemed older, more twisted, as though the very stone had been corrupted by centuries of malevolence.

Drawn forward by some invisible force, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps soundless on the damp earth. The trees loomed closer as he passed, their bark now pulsing with dark veins, like blood vessels pushing sluggish, rotten blood through the heart of the forest. His breath came in shallow gasps, and the air was thick with the stench of rot. He stumbled, his foot sinking into the ground, which gave way beneath him like decayed flesh.

Drawn forward by a force he couldn’t resist, Will moved toward the manor, his footsteps silent on the spongy ground. The closer he came, the heavier the air became, thick with the scent of damp decay and something metallic, like iron rusting in the rain. His chest tightened with every breath, as though the forest itself was pressing down on him.

The manor’s door stood open, waiting. Without thinking, Will stepped inside. The grand hall stretched out before him, dimly lit by flickering candles that cast long, wavering shadows across the walls. The air was thick and humid, with the faintest scent of flowers just beginning to rot. The wooden panels of the walls seemed to pulse faintly, as though they were alive, and the floor beneath his feet creaked with each step. Something was off—subtle, but present, like the place was teetering on the edge of decay, barely holding itself together.

At the far end of the hall, a figure stood in shadow, watching him. It was Hannibal. He stepped into the light, his face as sharp and flawless as ever, but there was something different about him in the dream—an intensity that set Will’s nerves on edge. His eyes gleamed in the flickering candlelight, and his presence filled the room in a way that made the space feel smaller, as though the walls themselves were closing in around him.

Hannibal smiled, that same calm, measured smile, but in the dream, it felt more like a mask—something hiding the truth beneath. “You don’t seem well-rested,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too soft for the vastness of the hall. Will tried to speak, but his throat was tight. The words wouldn’t come. His heart pounded, the sensation of being watched creeping over him like a second skin. There was something in the room with them, something unseen but present, hovering just out of reach.