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bvidzsoo · 3 months ago

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I know you want me

⨳ Mafia!Hongjoong ⨳

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

∞ Warning: mentions of drugs, murder and illegal activities ∞ Word count: 3.5k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, police officer!au, enemies!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: Working in the police was no easy feat, especially when you had been chasing after a mafia lord for the past six years. No matter how hard you worked and tried to find evidence, Kim Hongjoong always somehow came clean. But one day you finally get a lead that will help you succeed in your mission...or perhaps you've trusted Kim Hongjoong a little bit too much with your wine.

∞ A/N: Hongjoong's part is here, I hope you enjoy it! I think the tags for Wooyoung's part weren't working and that makes me a bit angry? Anyways, check out the other parts if you're interested! ^^ Next I will be posting Yeosang's part. Let me know what you thought of Hongjoong's part ^^ I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy!

⨳ Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥

In my field of work nothing was handed to you on a silver plate. The fact that I went to work daily was already a risk factor of losing my life—and unfortunately, with the passing of years and the many enemies I have made, I didn’t have to go into the office or out on the field to get killed. It was enough to sip my coffee on the balcony, or to go grocery shopping, or even just lay in my bed while watching a movie to unwind after the long day I’ve had. The city was a chaos, per usual, and the crime lords were on a rampant, wreaking more havoc than usual. There was a big influx of drugs sneaked into clubs and other entertainment areas these past two months that had officers, detectives, and even higher ups working their asses off in order to find the one behind it all, but almost each time we came up empty handed. It seemed like whoever was leading this illegal operation was a mastermind and made sure their steps were untraceable. Except that I wasn’t dense like my colleagues, I had my eyes set on one person since we’ve come across the illegal substances.

Kim Hongjoong.

Biggest mafia lord in the city and possibly wanting to expand his business overseas, it didn’t take long for me to connect the dots. It was Hongjoong’s doing, no doubt, but because he was too good at what he was doing, I couldn’t prove it. Not yet, at least. There were few things that could stop me—death being one of them—and I had been breathing down his neck for the past three months. The Kim Enterprise led by him, on the outside, seemed like an inoffensive car dealership that had multiple deals with overseas companies and collaborations with the biggest existing brands. However, once you looked through the cracks and investigated the Enterprise with a critical eye, you realized everything was hidden in plain sight. The cars they imported and exported often times were filled with either illegal substances or weapons that Mr. Kim should have never gotten his hands on—he also wasn’t shy to admit all the money laundering he’s been doing for the past six years.

But somehow, he always came up clean, without the possibility of directly blaming him for all the mayhem and crime he’s committed. He had great men backing him up, unfortunately, and I had been forced to dig deep and into ugly places in order to finally find something of value, something that would finally put him behind bars and destroy the empire he’s built for himself. He was no stranger to me or my colleagues, but perhaps the most infuriating part of our strictly professional relationship was the fact that he was always eager and happy to let us raid his warehouses and headquarters—perhaps because he knew we’d find nothing of actual value that would finally put an end to this fiasco.

Not tonight though, finally I found a little piece of evidence that fit our puzzle the right way. He wouldn’t be able to argue its authenticity, perhaps because it came from one of his insiders that had grown sick of all of the mistreatment and threats he’d been forced to take. The world of a mafia lord was sick and twisted, dark and unforgiving. The man who had given us a small piece of information had been placed under surveillance for his own safety as we know Mr. Kim too well, he’d definitely kill our informant the second he lays hands on him, and we couldn’t have that right now. We still need this person for further information and insight about Mr. Kim’s thorough plans. We finally had a real lead and we couldn’t let it go to waste.

That is why, in true fashion to myself, I had sent a formal invite to Mr. Kim for a quick dinner to discuss business. He loved being over the top, but he also loved declining our formal requests to meet up, and so, proposing to have dinner together is something I know he never turns down. Perhaps he liked the thrill of sitting at a table with an officer that’s been after his ass for the past six years, perhaps he enjoys the power play and the rush he gets every time one of our evidences get debunked by him. Not tonight, though, tonight will be different. My colleagues have been against me going alone to the fancy restaurant—which definitely wanted to refuse our request as they were fully booked, but upon pulling a few strings, I got us a table. After all, it was Mr. Kim’s favorite restaurant, they couldn’t refuse him if I used his name for our reservation.

“You’ve been just promoted, Y/N,” My colleague and also closest friend, Irene, said with a worried expression on her face, “you’re not supposed to head out onto the field so heedlessly.”

“But it’s not headless, Irene,” I grinned at her as I tidied my desk, feeling triumphant that I managed to book the table for tonight, “It’s necessary.”

“You’re trying to show off to him, and that’s dangerous and headless—”

“It’s an intimidation tactic, and to be honest, I do deserve to show off after everything I had to go through because of him.” I muttered as Irene sighed defeated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And if he refuses?” I chuckled as I gave Irene a knowing look.

“Kim Hongjoong refusing a meeting when he thinks he’s still got the upper hand and can humiliate me once again?” I shook my head as I pushed my chair back, “Impossible.”

“Fine,” Irene’s jaw clenched as she shook her head, “But wear a tracker and a camera, and alert me if things get out of hand. I refuse to have a repeat of last time—”

“It was an accident.” I sighed, frowning at the memory, “He didn’t mean to hurt me, the attack was aimed at him and I was there at the wrong time—”

“Whatever narrative you’ve told yourself of him protecting you is pure bullshit, Y/N.” Irene’s tone was harsh and I knew I couldn’t argue with her anymore, “He kills people for a living, he gets innocent people hooked on drugs, and he terrorizes those who refuse to work for him. He did not save you, he wanted you dead. You saved yourself, end of discussion.”

And perhaps Irene was right, but she wasn’t there when it happened. When the fire was opened and aimed at me, had Mr. Kim been a second too slow, I would be lying six feet under now. But Kim Hongjoong sprung up from his hiding place and yanked me behind a wall that kept the bullets from piercing both of our bodies, his eyebrows furrowed and a pissed look on his face as I tried to catch my breath from the sudden adrenaline rush. And Irene wasn’t there when Hongjoong killed every single one man that aimed their weapon towards me. She wasn’t there when he drove me back to the station and waited almost four hours until I was done with reports and a medical check-up and a visit to the higherups to drive me back home. Irene definitely wasn’t there when I noticed two of Hongjoong’s most trusted bodyguards stand the whole night in front of my gates just to keep watch and make sure I wasn’t targeted again. Kim Hongjoong was a criminal and a bad man, but he had an ounce of goodness in his heart somewhere deep down.

The lights in the restaurant were dim and gave the place an intimidating aura, I can see why Hongjoong likes it here. The tables were separated and placed at bigger distance, offering privacy for those who wanted it. The table I had been sat at was a separate booth, more towards the kitchens as I was told it was Mr. Kim’s usual table, and I was surprised to find three red candles placed in the middle of the table and rose petals strewn across the white silky tablecloth. It felt prestige and definitely expensive. The whole setting made me feel a little bit uneasy despite the low murmur of conversations surrounding me, and I tried not to fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I had to appear confident and like I was here for serious business, ready to take down the mafia lord that still hadn’t shown up. He was fifteen minutes late now, and I have started doubting whether he was coming. It also didn’t help that the black spaghetti strap dress was tight as fuck as if it was moulded against my body, forcing me to hide my handgun as it was strapped against my inner thigh where its outline wasn’t visible. It was a little uncomfortable sitting down with it as it dug into my skin, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’ve had to go through things far worse than this before.

The waiter had served me red wine when I had sat down, but I haven’t touched it yet, keen on waiting for Mr. Kim before consuming anything I was given. I had just started getting disheartened and ready to phone Irene that maybe we should hit a bar since I’m all dressed up, when Mr. Kim finally showed up, looking a little dishevelled. His dyed ginger hair was messy on top of his head and his cheeks rather flushed as he approached the table, sharp cat-like eyes settling on my form with a smirk stretching onto his lips. I gulped and straightened my back, raising my eyebrows questioningly at him once he plopped down in his seat rather unceremoniously.

“Miss Yang, I’m sorry for making you wait.” His voice was velvety as he spoke up, grabbing the white napkin off the table, “Something urgent came up and I had to take immediate care of it, I’m sure you understand with your field of work.”

“Completely, Mr. Kim.” I grinned slyly and Hongjoong hummed as I watched him rub his hands and knuckles against the white napkin, which wasn’t pure white anymore but covered in red spots. My eyes lingered on them knowing that it was most likely blood, and I could feel Hongjoong’s eyes watching me carefully. When I looked up, he had a challenging look in his eyes as he waved his hand lazily towards the waiter who disappeared behind the bar.

“It isn’t a daily occurrence I get asked on a date by a woman like you, Miss Yang.” I huffed in amusement as Hongjoong smirked once again, leaning back in his chair as he spread his legs wide, “May I know how I got so lucky?”

“We should wait for your drink first, Mr. Kim, I feel like making a toast.” I answered with a smug tone as my long red nails tapped against my glass filled with wine, making Hongjoong chuckle as he nodded.

“Very well, I have others things I can chat about either way.” He clicked his tongue, eyes slowly traveling from my eyes down my body, no doubt stopping at my chest as the dress did a shit job at covering my boobs as it should, but for once I didn’t mind, “You look ravishing tonight, Y/N, I wish we met in a setting like this more often.”

“With my field of work I rarely get the chance to dress up all pretty,” I mused, pushing my long hair behind my shoulders, “but tonight’s a special occasion, I had to dress accordingly. And it seems it was a smart choice given that you look handsome yourself, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong chuckled, eyes creasing as he scrunched his nose. For someone who was a dangerous mafia lord, he certainly could look rather cute in a way that seemed almost uncharacteristic, “What a compliment from you, thank you. It’s not often I hear you call me by my name.”

“Casualties need to be put aside when we’re talking about your business.”

“But isn’t that why we’re here?”

I grinned, hand resting on the white envelope placed on the table, “Exactly, but until we get to the business talk, I’ll indulge and play along with you, Hongjoong.”

“I’m afraid I got you wrapped around my finger, Y/N.” I snorted as Hongjoong bit his bottom lip with his eyes boring into mine, one eyebrow raised almost mockingly. But before I could retort anything, the waiter approached us with Hongjoong’s expensive whiskey and bowed upon his departure. Hongjoong hummed and grabbed his glass, raising it as he waited for me to do the same with my glass of wine. As I have said, I intended on making a toast. I couldn’t help but smirk as I raised my glass and titled it towards Hongjoong.

“To the downfall of your enterprise and empire, Mr. Kim.” I couldn’t help but feel elated as Hongjoong’s face fell, eyes hardening as I chuckled and took a long sip of the sweet wine, humming in delict at the expensive taste of the alcohol. Hongjoong almost hesitated for a second, but he took a sip of his whiskey and shook his head as his eyes fell on the envelope. I placed my glass down and traced its surface almost mockingly as I stalled handing the envelope over to him, “You see, Mr. Kim, it’s usually those closest to us that can ruin us the easiest and fastest way.”

“I suppose whatever you have in that envelope won’t be to my liking, Miss Yang.” I chuckled and nodded as I grabbed it and looked at it before handing it over to Hongjoong. I settled back in my seat and grabbed my glass of wine to sip on it as I watched the fearless mafia lord’s jaw clench as he emptied the envelope’s contents and paused as he scattered all the evidence out in front of him. I grinned behind my glass as I took a large gulp of the wine, enjoying the rich taste of it as it bloomed around my taste buds, making me sigh in content as Hongjoong’s neutral mask slipped into one of anger. I chuckled under my breath as I took him in, eyes straying to the exposed skin of his chest as he was leaned forward and wore nothing underneath his jacket. Silver chains hung around his neck and his ears had more than one earring piercing them, his pinkie nails painted black on both hands as a few chunky rings clung to his thick fingers.

He scoffed loudly and I quirked an eyebrow at him as he threw me a glare before looking back down at the papers, his jaw set tight as I swiftly finished my wine. It’s been long I had something as fancy as this one as I usually opted for the cheap beer from the convenience store after a strenuous and challenging day while I sat on my couch in the living room and watched whatever reality show was on at the moment.

“Miss Yang,” I perked up as Hongjoong sighed, tone tight and displeased, “I thought our respect was mutual after all these years of knowing each other and collaborating, yet here you are, meddling with my personal life.”

“Oh, but Mr. Kim,” I interlaced my fingers and placed my elbows on the table as I leaned forward with a fake concerned look on my face, “I thought there were no secrets between the two of us, yet here we are, with proof on our hands of all of your wrongdoings and missteps, Mr. Kim.”

He chuckled as he threw the papers onto the table and tsked, eyeing my empty glass of wine, “I heard you’ve been promoted to Deputy Chief, shouldn’t one of your baboons be sitting here with me instead of you?”

“I couldn’t miss seeing your reaction, Mr. Kim.” I chuckled and he nodded, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, mirroring my position.

“You should thank me for getting as far as this, Miss Yang, without me you would’ve been useless to the police—”

“If that is what you wish to believe, Mr. Kim, go ahead.” My jaw clenched at his blatant disrespect as I cut him off, “But at least I wasn’t outed by my own brother.”

Hongjoong’s eye twitched as he scoffed and hastily grabbed his glass to throw his whiskey back. I smiled as I enjoyed seeing him in real distress for the first time, seeing him uncapable of stopping me this time. But I also became aware of the subtle thumping of my head, of the immediate effect of the alcohol I had consumed. Could it be so strong that it already got to my head? I thought I had a rather high tolerance for alcoholic drinks.

“I am sure my brother has his own reasons—”

“Like many people I’ve come across, Mr. Kim, your brother grew sick of your schemes and deals, and chose to right his wrongdoings.” I cut him off once again, the headache growing a lot more persistent and disturbing. My body suddenly felt like it was moving a lot slower than it actually was, making me shake out my hands as I leaned back in my seat. Once again, Hongjoong’s eyes fell on the empty glass and my eyes narrowed as he grinned before shaking his head.

“My brother is a fool,” Hongjoong muttered and then gathered the papers and slowly slipped them back in the envelope, “when will you raid my warehouses?”

“Probably tomorrow.” I hummed as I had to blink my eyes a few times to clear the haze that threatened to settle upon my vision, “Can’t let you have too much time at your hands to dispose of all the evidence, can’t I?”

“I appreciate your effort of warning me,” Hongjoong hummed and licked his lips as he paused for a second, watching me closely as my legs started feeling like lead and my arms tingled, “you’ve always been a great asset to my organization, Miss Yang, so aware of everything yet never close enough to prove anything.”

“I’ll do anything it takes to finally take you down,” I hissed, venom coating my voice as I had to force my eyes shut upon the violent headache that seemed to leave me immobile, “I’ve had enough of watching people suffer because of you, Hongjoong.”

“Perhaps you’ll hate me a little more after tonight, Y/N,” Hongjoong chuckled as I tried to gulp but my throat felt parched. I tried to move, but I couldn’t, and I panicked as I realized this wasn’t normal. Whatever this was, it had to be Hongjoong’s doing and as my eyes fell onto my empty wine glass, Hongjoong chuckled and leaned over the table to grab it, “because I have tricked you once again. My brother is my most trusted asset to my organization, I knew we could lure you out if I sent him running to you with forged evidence.”

I tried to sit up and grab for my gun, but even my tongue felt heavy to move as I frowned at Hongjoong, heartrate picking up as I realized I had foolishly fallen into his well-thought-out plan, “Some of my business partners are fed up with you always lurking around our asses, so I had to do something about it if I didn’t want to lose them.”

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak sound in the back of my throat making Hongjoong chuckle. My head was pounding and even the dim lights bothered my eyes as I felt dizzy, struggling to stay awake as everything in me was growing soft and calm, “I respect you greatly, Y/N, and quite frankly I like you a lot. It’s hard to find a confident, ambitious, and strong woman that doesn’t abide to my wishes straight away these days. It’s truly a pity that we’re on opposing teams, darling.”

There was a beep coming from his pocket and he grabbed his phone and chuckled as he picked it up, sounding too cheery as I struggled to fight the sleep that was threatening to knock me out for God knows how long, “I told you it would be easy, bring the van to the back.”

I tried to protest as my eyes fluttered open and Hongjoong pushed his seat back and stood with a mischievous smirk on his lips as he slowly approach me, his wide legged pants making him look taller than he was, “You’ve been working hard, Y/N, it’s time for a little vacation, don’t you think? Have you ever been to the Bahamas? I have a really important gig to pull off and I really can’t have you sniffing around my ass like a wild dog.”

I managed to gasp as suddenly Hongjoong’s hands were around and underneath my body, lifting me off the chair as I hung limply in his arms as he stared down at me with pursed lips, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And with the promise rolling off his tongue in a whisper, the drug that had been infused with my wine kicked in completely and I couldn’t help but surrender to the serene darkness that lulled me to a deep sleep in Hongjoong’s strong arms.

I need to call Irene once I am conscious again. I didn’t wear a tracker.

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

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sorcave · 1 month ago

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After spending some time thinking about Peter Pettigrew, I’ve realized there’s a huge disconnect between how he’s portrayed in canon and how the fandom—especially within Marauders fanon—handles him. Let me preface this by saying, I get it. The Marauders era is filled with beloved, tragic characters like Sirius, Remus, and James, who are all charismatic in their own ways. It’s easy to frame Peter as the villain, the weak link in the group, because, well, he is the one who betrays them. But I can’t help feeling like fanon’s interpretation of him has become deeply flawed and even unfair in its simplification of his character.

Peter Pettigrew, as written in the books, is actually a much more complex figure than the rat-betrayer caricature that fanon often makes him out to be. He’s not some mustache-twirling villain, nor is he just a pathetic hanger-on who was lucky to be in the Marauders’ circle. If you really pay attention to the way his character is written, he’s someone who’s constantly underestimated by the people around him, including the very friends he ends up betraying. He’s not powerful in the traditional sense, but his cunning is what allows him to survive the chaos of two wizarding wars. He’s not a mastermind, sure, but he’s resourceful in a way that deserves more recognition than he gets. Canonically, it’s clear that he isn’t just bumbling around until he stumbles into Voldemort’s arms—he’s making calculated choices, and we need to give those choices the weight they deserve.

This brings me to why I think fanon’s insistence on reducing Peter to a one-dimensional villain is so misguided. There's this huge trend in Marauders fandom where Peter is either villainized beyond recognition or, worse, completely written out of the story. He’s often replaced in fanon with a random “better” Marauder, or he’s ignored entirely, as if his betrayal somehow disqualifies him from being part of the story. And here’s the thing: canon compliance isn’t a crime! In fact, canon gives us a far more interesting story. The tragedy of Peter’s betrayal is that he was their friend—he shared their dorm, their secrets, and their history. His actions were not driven by some inherent evil but by fear, survival instincts, and yes, cowardice. It’s a much richer narrative than reducing him to a monster.

In the fandom, there’s often this hyperfocus on moral purity when it comes to the Marauders, especially when it comes to ships and rewriting dynamics. Peter, however, disrupts that neat narrative, so fanon tries to erase him to preserve the integrity of the fan-created relationships. But that oversimplifies everything. Why should we villainize people for sticking to canon when canon is, arguably, what makes the Marauders’ story so compelling in the first place? The fall of the Marauders—this group of young, talented, promising boys—hinges on Peter’s betrayal. You can't just ignore that without losing a fundamental piece of what makes their story so tragic. He’s not a random character you can swap out. He’s the pivot point.

Peter’s character also raises some interesting discussions about how we view heroism and villainy in fandom spaces. For instance, we’re often quick to forgive other characters—Sirius, for all his bravado, is reckless and cruel to people like Snape, but we don’t hold it against him in the same way. We empathize with his trauma, his tragic backstory. So why is it that Peter, who is also a product of his circumstances, is written off? He wasn’t born evil; he was shaped by the same war that shaped all of them, but his path led him to make different choices. There’s something so fascinating about exploring how someone who was once a friend could betray everything. It’s a conversation about human flaws, not just villainy.

And yes, in a world full of Marauders fan content, it’s fine to like your AUs or write your fix-its. But let’s not pretend that sticking to canon, and appreciating Peter for the complex character he is, is somehow less valid. The fandom would benefit from looking at Peter as more than just “the betrayer” and instead as someone who, like everyone else in the story, is a deeply flawed person whose mistakes have devastating consequences. That makes the story richer, more painful, and ultimately, more meaningful.

forgive me for the ramble but Im going insane with my term paper and my thesis, unfortunately I've been diving too deep into the marauders again

#marauders #peter pettigrew #marauders era #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #harry potter

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senblades · 5 months ago

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Hi :)

I love your art and your writing, and you have such a great grasp of these characters that I was wondering if you have any fic recs? Rating doesn't matter ;)

boy do I! (and ty for the compliment <3 <3 <3)

[cracks knuckles] alrighty:

The Dissapearence of Goro Akechi by Kupowonders - Probably my favourite fic ever, honestly- it's like. derailing the plot of persona 5 post-medjed thanks to the persona 4 accomplice ending years prior. (So, spoilers for p4 in that, too) it's. very good.

Marigolds by Colbub - Akechi gets ng+'ed to right when he started working for Shido, and has to take a good look at the future to come and be like "Aight how the fuck do I fix this". Fun times!

Daredevil, You've hit the wall by ez_cookie. Essentially, p5 Strikers but Sumire and Goro get to be in on the fun, too. And, there's a direct sequel currently being updated that's a similar premise for p5 Tactica. very very good stuff

A Tale of Two Tricksters by Zoe2k8 - Murder boyfriends! ...sort of? Angst! Angst and murder boyfriends! An oversimplification, obviously, but I'm not kidding when I say this fic is amazing and is also over a million words holy shit-

Throw away your mask by MollyPollyKinz - Another ng+ situation for Akechi, but this time the poor guy gets thrown all the way to 2009. You can imagine how well that goes (For the audience, less so for Akechi himself.)

The Crow Cries at Midnight by Dorked. hehe this one is very fun. Basically, a series of coincedencs causes Akechi to get thrown into the plot of persona 4. No time travel here! Just a grumpy 12/13 year-old Akechi trying to solve a murder mystery

The entire Tales of Chaos series by Eternalmomentss (The first one is called Like sand between your fingers) Very very good stuff! Something of a character study, I would say, of Ren and Goro. Plus, all the funky plot stuff that comes from trickster-typical bad luck and poor descision making. I really love this series hehe

uhh this post is getting very long I need to make this less wordy- lightning round?

Hunger for a life by Leonawriter - do you like vampires? I sure do! Mix that and the p5 plot and you get shenanigins. [evil laughter] a lot of shenanigins

Fishbowl by KivaEmber - Akechi has a terrible time in Maruki's reality. And I mean a terrible time

You have a beautiful smile underneath that mask by Saposaki - Akechi has a crush on Akira and Joker has a crush on Crow. No one is aware of the other's secret identity. Dramatic irony and hilarity ensues.

MASTERMiND by StumblingBlock - No Metaverse au where Akira really doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of his crime family, and fails miserably

Rose and Rot by SixteenJuniper - Read this!! I'm serious!! "A fun fantasy adventure" don't listen to Juniper. You'll be in tears by chapter two. (/pos, of course) (Seriously this fic is incredible)

Redressing the Balance by Convocated - ...almost a ng+? Ng+, in the sense that shuake are getting funky visions that are very quickly derailing the standard plot of p5r. This causes problems of the "Someone get the popcorn and maybe the tissues" variety

She's got a heartbeat full of lead (And she's aiming straight for the head) by Dots - This fic haunts me, often. In the best way possible, of course; but seriously, read it

Cracked into by SydneyHorses - Ren makes bad descisions and it becomes Akechi's problem. 2/2 timeloop, perhaps most notably featuring HaruGoro friendship! Love love love this fic

Okay that wasn't as "less wordy" as I intended but it'll do

Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry for the long post.. and this is by no means all of the fics that I've ever loved (nor are the ones here in any particular order) but I swear we'll be here all week if I keep going HAHA

ty for the ask (and again for the kind words), anon! Hope this was helpful and to your tastes! (I... hope you like Shuake HAHA it's present in most of these- I assume you do, since you came to me (points at literally everything shuake I've made) of all people, but uh. Some of these fics are gen if it's not to your liking?)

#persona 5 #asks #[sigh] another long post for the pile #I yap a lot HAHA #it's probably part of my charm?

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f0point5 · 9 months ago

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I had the time of my life, with you

Companion piece to the Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader social media au

✨Set in Abu Dhabi 2021, right before the race✨

A/N: So it turns out setting myself deadlines actually works lol. I still have a love/hate relationship with these pieces. But, I have a special place in my heart for this one because I had the title in my head since like the second week of the smau and I didn’t use it for any other chapter because of that. And also it’s an Easter egg because in the AD bonus part Y/N uses it as a caption for her Instagram post as an Easter egg for Max ;) we love a mastermind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little ramble.

You thought you knew tension. You thought, growing up like you did, you were more than familiar. The eerie silence, the glazed expressions as your mind tries to protect you from close the chaos is, the pit in your stomach, that heaviness of breath, that feeling of cold that goes down to your bones no matter the weather.

Fucking hell, were you wrong.

You’ve never known tension like this.

The garage is thrumming with energy. Everyone is going about their business quicker, deeper, quieter, than it seems like they ever have. The grandstands are filling up, music blasting over the speakers. There’s a palpable electricity in the air. You’ve been shivering all day, unable to get warm enough even in a jacket in the desert heat.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you wind through along the narrow corridors behind the garage to the small room that Max has been hiding in. For the first time in a while, you knock instead of going straight it.

You’ve barely seen him all day, he’s been pulled this way and that for a hundred interviews and briefings, ducking the Netflix crews who’ve never been so sycophantic. They made him a villain, and now they lurk like there’s blood in the water in case he becomes the hero. Selfishly, you’ve missed him, and when you’d said as much to Christian, he’d just nodded to the back of the garage.

“He’s taking a couple of minutes to himself,” Christian had said, fixing his gaze on you. “But you should go and see him,”

So you had. And as you heard a gentle “Come in,” over the noise of drills and loud dance music and stepped inside, you realised why.

This was tension, you thought as your eyes fell on Max. He was on the small couch, hunched over, elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped together almost as if he were praying. It’s like you can see every muscle in his body pulled taut under his fireproofs. He doesn’t even raise his head when you come in, but you suppose he glances at your shoes to know it’s you.

You close the door behind you, leaning against it. You’re not sure why, but it feels like you’ll bother him less from over here.

“Hey, champ,” you say, mustering a smile in case he looks at you. He doesn’t, at first. His eyes stay on the ground, and then, painfully slowly, his head lifts.

His eyes are still your favourite colour, his hair is still a bit too long, he’s still unshaven because he couldn’t be bothered even though he might be looking at pictures of this night for the rest of his life. He’s still Max.

“It’s a bit early for that,” he says, his half smile as delicate as yours. Yeah, still Max.

“Respectfully, I disagree,” you tell him crossing your arms over your chest as he looks up at you. “Since I can remember you’ve wanted to be a champion, and since I can remember, I knew you would be. That nickname is twenty years in the making,”

His eyes drop to his hands again and your heart drops with them. You’re trying so hard to say the right thing, but it was arrogant to think you ever had a chance. What experience in your frivolous existence would help you know what to say at a time like this. You wonder if you should just leave him to it as you fold your bottom lip between your teeth to chew at it as another shiver wracks your body.

“Twenty years,” Max says quietly, making you look over at him again. “It’s a long time,”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, nodding even though he’s not looking at you. You edge closer to him, and when he doesn’t react, you take a seat beside him. Not as close as every cell in your body tells you you need to be, but as close as you feel like he’d want right now.

“You don’t understand,” he says with a sigh.

You don’t respond, because you know you don’t. You’ve never committed to anything, loved anything, lived for anything, like this. This dream of his has outlived marriages, outlasted memories, predated a friendship that feels like it has been going on forever. It’s the only thing Max has ever wanted. You’ll never be able to understand, because no matter how much you love him, he loved racing first.

“Tell me what to say, Max,” you almost beg as you reach towards him. You can’t even hold his hand, so you just place yours on his wrist, fingertips resting against his skin at the edge of his sleeve.

You glance over at him, naively hoping he will look over at you and tell you what he needs from you. Because you’d do anything.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he just says, “I’m sorry,” in a small voice the brings a lump to your throat.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. I know I don’t understand. No one can. Not me, not Christian, not Stan, not even your dad. You’ve outclassed your whole support system here,” you say this last part with a laugh, but it’s true. He’s alone now more than ever, he’ll stand on that top step alone, too. “We’re all so proud of you, you know,”

“I know,” he mutters, and it kind of breaks you how dismissive he is, even if you know why.

“Do you?” You ask him, leaning a little closer to him, but he doesn’t react.

He just continues staring at his hands as he untangles them, his left fingers curling backwards until they brush over your hand on his wrist, and you hastily slot your fingers into his as he lets out a heavy breath.

“Yeah.” He says, sounding more resolute this time.

“And you know that we’ll be proud of you, even if-“ you can’t even bring yourself to say it. “We’ll be proud of you regardless.”

“I know,” he says, “but it’s not enough,”

Despite yourself, you let out a frustrated sigh. “Max, I know that it’s not a trophy, but-“

“No,” he says, squeezing your hand to silence you. “It’s not that. I mean that it’s not enough, to come second.”

You grip his hand tighter as he lets out a laboured breath, his head lifting so he can stare straight ahead where the Dutch flag is pinned to the wall.

“We didn’t do all this to come second.” His voice is low and reverent. “My mum, Vic, I took so much from them. My dad gave up his whole life for this. You put your life on hold for this. It can’t all be for nothing,”

He’s never really said it, but you know what he means - this win is owed. He owes his mother a marriage, his sister a father, and his father a career. And none of that is in his gift, but if he can weigh a championship against all that sacrifice, then maybe he will be forgiven. Maybe for the first time in a long time, he’ll race with a clean slate. Without wondering whether he was worth the life he cost those around him, and the life he cost himself. And you want that for him. God, you want that more than anything.

You reach for him before you can stop yourself. Space be damned. You cup his cheek in your free hand and force him to look at you.

“Max, It won’t be for nothing.” You promise him, your nails pressing gently into his skin as if you’re trying to hold onto him. Like he might float away. “Not to me. Not to anyone who loves you. Even if you don’t win today, even if you never do, even if you shunt on the first lap. I had the time of my life with you this year. Being there for you will never have been for nothing,”

He wants to believe you, you can see it. But even if he believes that you all think that, he doesn’t think that. How do you tell him it’s worth it, when you both know there’s only one way for him to prove it?

“Do you want me to drive?”

Your question catches him off guard so much as that he snorts his laughter. You feel the air against your face as he falls back against the couch.

“I’m serious,” you say, grinning as you watch him. “I’ll put on the suit and the helmet and do the race for you, like Mulan. I did the track walk, I know where I’m going. Vaguely, anyway ,”

You’re making a meal of this mediocre joke, but you’ll do anything you can to keep him as carefree as he looks right now. With his head thrown back and the colour returning to his cheeks as his shoulders shake.

“Engel,” he says, his head lolling in your direction, “You really think you have a better chance of winning than me?”

You reach over to move a stray strand of hair away from his forehead, and his eyes follow your fingers.

“No, I don’t,” you say, letting your hand slide through his hair to rest on his jaw. “Because you, Max Emilian Verstappen, know how to win races better than anyone.”

Your thumb brushed across his stubbled cheek and he leans into it instinctively, just like the cats. The smile you give him feels more like one you remember, and the ones he returns reaches his bright eyes.

“Alright,” he says with a shrug.

He gets to his feet in one smooth movement, pulling you with him towards the door by your entwined hands that you’d quite forgotten about. He must have, too, because when he notices he squeezes your hand to get you to look up at him. When you do, your breath catches in your throat, and for the first time all day, you feel warm.

“I better go and win, then,” he says lightly, pulling the door open.

No one will you believe you, but you know then that you’ll be looking up at him on that podium tonight, when he’ll be a world champion.

“You will.”

Tag list

@somanyfandomsbruh @eugene-emt-roe @reidsworld @max3verstappen @laneyspaulding19 @elliegrey2803 @inthestars-underthesun @jayda12 @gaysontoast @baw-sixteen @wcnorris @motorsp0rt @obsessed-fan-alert @lifesuckslife @luciaexcorvus @dumb-fawkin-bitch @lickmeleclerc @goldeng1rl8 @trentwife @mynameisangeloflife @princessria127 @mcmuppet @hiraethrhapsody @toomuchdelusion @lxclerc @lpab @lordperceval-16 @larastark3107 @bangtanxberm @random-readers-world @bladestark @allenajade-ite @ironmaiden1313 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @charllleclerc @kachoooow95 @bellalilo @samywhale @satellitelh @leclercdream @jamie2305 @illicitverstappen @vellicora @honethatty12 @sociallyinepludi i @raizelchrysanderoctavius @bellewintersroe @taylorslovesswifties13 @tyna-19 @jquinnmunson

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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radiance1 · 10 months ago

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The chaos lords? Definitely loving all of this, nobody has died yet but the sheer amount of chao that stemmed from the existence of the Hydra and the everything on with GIW is just chefs kiss.

Honestly, Dan being here would depend on if old boyo got redeemed or not and Ellie is definitely there somewhere in the background, maybe somewhere across the world who knows.

Alright so I imagine this, the scientist becomes this person who seemed like they were the reason for all of this. They carefully laid out this plan, step by step, and controlling everything from the shadows to the barrier (which they did make) to the Hydra itself (which they literally had zero hand in) and then when it suddenly gets a major power boost outta nowhere?

Whoever they spilled everything to which I bet they were trying to act utterly cool and unaffected by the entire thing would go: Oh yea, this guy was probably the source of all this.

When in reality they're literally just an ex-scientist who was pretty down on their luck, is a petty asshole, is determined to drag the GIW down with them for firing them and rightfully angry about them claiming their work as the government branch's own.

The government calling an emergency meeting? Yea they're fully throwing the GIW to the wolves now, letting the Justice League and the press to just go and investigate to their pleasure is basically them saying that the GIW can handle themselves.

Not that some heroes weren't already going or doing that mind you, but having free reign to do so is undeniably good so that they could just avoid legal repercussions for going through a secret government branch without permission.

The villains are getting greedy when they see exactly how intelligent the Hydra is and, while a mindless juggernaut would be useful. Having it being intelligent is even more so, it could make informed choices and wouldn't just smash everything.

Yes, it is a double-edged sword but they don't really care for that tidbit with the fantasy of having it under their control.

I imagine when the ex-scientist sees the very public emergency meeting giving the Justice League and the press full reign to investigate the GIW, they give a very evil, gleefully loud cackle that has everyone around them looking at them weirdly. Much to their embarrassment as they flee the scene. They're definitely cackling and having a spring in their step on the way to Amity Park and the barrier so they could reverse the effect to give the Hydra a massive boost in power.

If the ghosts in the GIW facilities are dragon-shaped and already knowing that they ran experiments. I could see damn well that the more magical heroes would instantly connect the dots (that aren't there) that the GIW had a hand in creating the Hydra and, after it got too powerful and out of control, tried to sweep it under the rug in a town in the middle of nowhere.

They could even think that they effectively doomed the people in said town, just to keep their slip up under wraps.

Prompt 203

Another Hydra prompt! Because I am enjoying the designs I’ve made lol. And perhaps it’s a bit inspired by @radiance1 ‘s different dragon prompts too.

So they’ve succeeded! They’ve managed to combine their powers- with a bit of shapeshifting helped along by so many ghost allies- and become a giant duck-you dragon! Well, originally they were going to do something else, but they couldn’t agree on an animal, so dragon it was!

And how mighty they are! They’re giant, absolutely massive- dwarfing the couple of skyscrapers still in Amity. Damages via ghost attacks and general sparring made it where people really didn’t want to rebuild those types of buildings.

But anyway, dragon! Them! They’re absolutely stunning! And did they mention powerful? Because boy oh boy, are they powerful. The GIW’s guns do practically nothing against their combined might, and barriers shatter before them!

The uh, issue is that they erm… can’t turn back. Which is fine, they’ve all sort of outlived most of their generation- thank you possessions and ecto-contamination, it’s just a tiny bit of an adjustment. But really it’s not too bad, and someone needs to stop the GIW from trying to poke their heads into Amity. Like it’s been a solid couple of generations, it’s time to stop, thanks.

Actually they’ve been a bit quiet. Meh, that surely isn’t a problem. Probably. Honestly they’re all going to use the opportunity to sprawl out where the school yard once was, their favorite place to sun their scales. Huh. Usually more people are around now that they think about it- or really, as Paulina points out, sharpening her fangs on one of the rocks.

…

How long had they been sleeping, because it couldn’t have been that long. One of them was always awake, they slept in shifts after all! Yet there are things missing now as they patrol the skies, both Wes and Tucker pointing out specific buildings that the others didn’t particularly notice usually that now lay empty.

Hm.

Oh. That is a… strong barrier there. A really strong barrier actually. Pfft, they can take it! They’ve shredded every barrier together before- Ow.

…

Okay this might be a bit of a problem. Shit.

You want a general size reference? :P

#Dpxdc #Dcxdp #The Class Pulls a Tiamat #The GIW have been working on a way to cage the Very Dangerous Ghost Dragon that just seemed to Appear one day according to their predecesso #Yes it’s been a good hundred years or so since the DP series happenings #Also yes they’re poly & sharing a body #They can talk telepathically & share some abilities or dozen #Ghosts are Dragons #Or have they just copied the ONE who seemingly can't be contained & finds safety in such a thing #Y'know I bet chaos lords like Klarion are THRIVING with everything going on #I wonder- do you think Dan & Ellie are somewhere (perhaps as a shared 2 headed hydra perhaps not)#Random thing but I am weak to the hydra AUs #just the idea of them giving up Everything including their humanity to protect their people #like they can never see their families again- never see them- never finish college- Nothing #very weak to that shit #<prev tags #You know I can just see some villains trying (and failing because barrier) to get to the Hydra and convince it to work with them #Or something lmao #meanwhile the scientist is just skipping over to Amity Park like a giddy child after being told they had ice cream waiting for them at home #Being mistaken for some mastermind who carefully set this entire thing up when he really isn't and is just butthurt lmao

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 24 days ago

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Marauders AU in which Voldemort is more intelligent and he creates a massive spell to erase people's memories to his convenience.

Sometime in 1979, Voldemort released a spell that was like a bomb, that created an explosion and chaos. Families were separated. Friends were separated. Lovers were separated.

He invents a "perfect world" only for Purebloods and manipulates their minds to make them think muggleborns and halfbloods are savages that want to kill everyone, because the lack of magic had corrupted their minds and they are practically wild animals.

So he builds a wall around Hogwarts and other parts of the Wizarding Community where purebloods and very selected wizards live inside a bubble. Like a dome. Outside the dome, everyone else stays behind left to survive in the forest and the ruins of the wild.

So obviously a very small selected group of death eaters (like Bellatrix, and Snape) know the truth, and work to maintain the order inside the dome, the rest are brainwashed.

Inside the dome, there are characters like Sirius Black (pureblood), Marlene McKinnon (pureblood), Peter (pureblood and very manipulative to use as a lapdog). Plus Lily Evans (who is not a pureblood but was spared because of Snape. He begged his master to let Lily be included in this new world) All of them with their memories wiped out, and new lives and personalities created for them. They are told that savages out there are dangerous. They live a comfortable life of rich people. Bellatrix is the public figure of this system, like the president. With Voldemort being the mastermind from behind.

Outside the dome, are the ones who know the truth. The rebels and survivors. James Potter, is the leader of the resistance. He was captured to be inside the dome but managed to escape before they brainwashed him. Remus, obviously considered not worth it for being a werewolf, but wanted to be killed. Mary, a muggleborn. And I am thinking other characters like Emmeline Vance and other characters from the original Order. They don't know what is inside the dome, they think at first that death eaters were torturing their friends.

Regulus is obviously selected to be inside the dome but at some point he wakes up and acts like a double agent and a spy from inside to help the rebels and protect his brother. Regulus along with Dorcas and Barty are brainwashed to be guards which their job is protect the dome from savages and hunt them down. They are the only ones allowed outside the dome to hunt more savages. The government told them to look specifically for the ones from the resistance like James or Remus. Regulus keeps sparing their lives a lot because he knows the true of who they are.

James and Lily were a couple before the explosion. And were separated. Lily doesn't remember James or thinks he is a murderer. Snape invented the story that he was the one who killed her parents and he is dangerous. But inside of her, she feels something for him still and she cannot explain why she is curious about what's outside the dome. James, on the other hand, is crazy in love with Lily and wants to get inside the dome to rescue her. He knows the truth.

Also, after the explosion, nobody knows who is alive or not. Who is outside the dome or not. After months of looking for his friends, Remus finds James with his little group of rebels but he is told that Sirius is dead. Wolfstar wasn't a thing before the explosion like Jily. But Remus loved Sirius in secret and never dared to tell him about his feelings. He griefs Sirius and wants revenge for his supposed dead. James doesn't lose hope that Sirius is alive somewhere inside the dome. He has hope that he can get his friends back.

So the story is the confrontation from the ones inside the dome lead by Voldemort, and how some of them start waking up. They don't understand why they feel things for those savages and why they provoke things on them without knowing they are actually their friends or lovers. Especially Lily and Sirius who feel things for James and Remus respectively and are confused because they shouldn't, they are dirty savages, aren't they?

And the other side of rebels resisting, surviving while they can with plans to get inside, discover what is inside and rescue their friends, make them wake up and realize who they really are. Of course led by Albus Dumbledore himself.

#Just a little idea that got inside my brain like a possible AU and fanfic #This would happen instead of the war #Also Voldemort is a better villain who is not obsessed with killing a baby #marauders #marauders era #marauders au #sirius black #lily evans #james potter #remus lupin #jily #wolfstar #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #regulus black #barty crouch jr #dorcas meadowes

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obscurecurse · 7 months ago

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you guys i need a kimchay catfish au so bad. i don't know wtf my problem is. but for your considerationnnnnn:

Concept A - Kim gets catfished, obviously. Playing off the popular headcanon that Kim is a little out of touch and bad with technology, a catfish just starts sending Kim vague texts like, "it's been a long time. how are you?" Kim thinks it's Chay because he's in his feelings one night so he texts back like, "Chay? Is this you?" and the catfish (who can't believe that worked) replies, "yep it's me!" like Kim just walks right into it. And they talk for awhile and Kim thinks he's making amends, and he's so relieved that Chay is talking to him again, and eventually he runs into Chay and starts talking about something they'd texted about and Chay has no fucking idea what Kim is talking about. The angst. *chefs kiss* .

Concept B - "For a good time, call 000-000-0000 <3" Chay keeps writing WIꓘ's number in bathroom stalls for petty revenge. Kim can change his number easily, and he does. But Chay just asks Porsche to get his new number from Kinn (because Porsche is 100% down to help Chay make Kim squirm.) Kim has no idea who's doing it but his mafia brain gets activated so he texts one stranger back like, "Where did you get this number?" and they tell him the name of the bar. Kim starts casing the places where his number is written, intent on confronting this person. Every bar he goes to he crosses his number out with sharpie. But Chay just writes it again below. Eventually Kim writes, "WE NEED TO TALK. YOU HAVE MY NUMBER." Or maybe Kim catches Chay in the middle of rewriting it??? And now they are arguing in some gross bathroom at a bar. It's not the most romantic place to confess his love, but he's so overwhelmed that Chay is talking to him again. .

Concept C - Kim gets catfished but Chay's college roomate is the catfish, pretending to be Chay. Chay says he's over Kim but this roommate is tired of watching Chay mope around and avoid everyone who tries to flirt with him at parties. At the very least, they need to talk things out so Chay can move on... The roommate does not expect Kim to be so eager to reconcile. (The way Chay talked about him, the roommate thought he would be cold and disinterested.) Kim wants to meet so they can talk, and now this person will have to explain to an actual famous pop idol that they are not, in fact, Chay. The roommate thinks it's better to explain in person and say sorry so they agree to meet. Chay sees his roommate with Kim on campus and loses his cool. Kim is relieved Chay is there after all. Chaos ensues. Chay figures it out first he's like, "What the fuck is your problem?" And then he's mad at Kim, he's like "Why would I ever in a million years ask you to meet me at the tech center at a college library!? I thought you were a criminal mastermind! Do you even have a gun on you? What if it was someone trying to take you as a hostage?" (The roommate is quickly learning A LOT of new information about Chay's relationship with Kim.)

#Kimchay #H Writes #kimchay fanfic #in denial about kimchay being too esoteric to have an existing wealth of catfish AUs #prompts

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delicatebarness · 6 months ago

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safe & sound | prologue

Summary: Bucky is given his new assignment.

Warning: Mob AU. Age Gap (Bucky - late 40s/Reader - early 20s). Dad's Best Friend. Mentions of Violence/Blood/Bones. Mentions of weapons.

Word Count: 423

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A/N: I wanted to just get on with it and make a start. As always feedback is appreciated and highly encouraged :) thank you!!

Tags: Let me know if you want to be tagged.

In the city's heart, shadows danced in the alleyways and whispers carried weight, the weight of the Rogers dynasty. Steve Rogers, a man of authority, led his empire with a determination that brooked no dissent. His wife, Natasha Romanoff-Rogers stood by his side, an equal in every sense, and her presence was as chilling as a winter evening.

Their legacy was filled with secrets, built upon the bones and blood of those who dared to oppose them—bounded by a fierce love that went beyond the chaos they masterminded.

Then, there were the twins. Their children, you and Peter, bore the weight of your parents' legacy on your shoulders.

Peter was the elder twin, a reflection of your father’s determination. From a young age, your parents groomed him to inherit the family business. He was schooled in the art of manipulation and intimidation.

You were the younger twin and the polar opposite of your brother. Where Peter had embraced the darkness of the family name, you sought out the light. Your innocence remained untarnished as you wandered through life with wonder and hope.

Together, you were the heirs to the Rogers legacy, a legacy steeped in blood and betrayal.

Your paths diverged further as you grew older. Peter had immersed himself in your family’s business, an ambition driving him to climb the ranks of the underworld. One day, take over your father’s mantle.

On the other hand, you yearned for something more, something that went beyond the confines of your family’s gilded cage.

As the Rogers legacy thrived, a whisper of a testament to the power, love, and loyalty lurked within. You and Peter stood at the edge of your destinies as a shadow of your father’s past loomed ever larger, threatening to consume the Rogers whole.

It was in the wake of this ominous threat that your father, the patriarch of your family, made a decision that altered the course of your life forever. Concerned for your safety, he turned to his oldest friend, a man who was forged from the same steel as himself: Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Known throughout the underground as “The Winter Soldier” but to you and Peter, he was “Uncle Bucky.”

“Will you protect her, Buck?” Your father’s voice was grave as he asked for his friend's support, his eyes reflected a weight of the world that had settled upon his shoulders.

Bucky’s gaze met his with a solemn node. “You don’t even have to ask, Steve.” And with their agreement, a new chapter in your life began.

---

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red-winter-is-coming · 21 days ago

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The reasoning behind the Masterminds.

(or, a post I was suppose to make hours earlier but got distracted, explaining Why The Fuck Eight People are second-round Masterminds in an AU)

This will be very.... fic like? Because I feel like it flows better that way!

@smol-creecher anything to add? I'm LOVING your imputs :D

-------------

It wasn't like this was their first choice, being told to run a killing game. Really, they didn't know what they were signing up for until it was far too late.

XF-Ture Tech approached them, one at a time. They were vulnerable, grieving the death of their classmate, the one who held them together.

They were offered something they wanted so desperately in their heart, that they signed a contract, signing their soul away for any one favor of XF-Ture's choosing.

They looked at Min, their prize student, the one who they could easily convince with one conversation: 'If you do this for us, you can be free. We'll find you a well paying job, one you can pick out, doesn't that sound nice?'

They found Rose, lost in her rotten world. 'We can get you out of here, give you your freedom back, get you home, if only you sign this paper.'

Eden and Whit, perhaps two of the kindest in their class left, were offered a very simple deal: 'Do you want a distraction from Mai?'

They tracked David down, giving an offer he wouldn't refuse. 'Come with us, and you will never need to keep up this front again.'

Charles, ever the loner, was offered a deal more simple then the others. 'Give us one favor, and we'll net you a high paying and comfortable job, and all the answers you're seeking.'

Ace and J, stuck in their own lives, wishing to get free, were offered just that. 'Come with us, and we'll get you out of there. Come with us, and you won't need to bother with your mother, or your job ever again.'

Stupid deals to make? In hindsight, yes. But they were nineteen years old, and mourning one of the few good people they ever knew.

They really should've said no.

The first few weeks were fine, amazing, even. They got warm food, a place to sleep, and they had each other for company. They spent their days exploring the huge building XF-Ture kept them in, as they found new hobbies to pass the time.

Then, they were called in to redeem the favor.

Run a death game until only you are left, XF-Ture told them, Run these games perfectly for freedom.

Really, had they all been together, instead of leading separate games, maybe they would've succeeded. Certainly, things like Charles almost getting brained after the second trial, or J's most hidden secret getting out to the worst person, wouldn't have happened.

They excuse their failure to kill their remaining classmate as weakness. They say it was too soon after Mai.

They couldn't let XF-Ture know how much most of them cared for the classmate in their group.

In the end, all of them defied their one final order: Kill everyone else in the game.

Failure meant death, and they were walking closer towards it at every moment.

So, when the higher executives came to them, and told them to fix their mistake of leaving people alive, they asked for one more chance. A chance where they'll be killed at the end, if they even make it there. Maybe, just maybe, with a little more time, and the ability to plan together, they'll find a way out.

Sure, things aren't going... as smoothly as planned. Nico's memory wipe didn't work, so now they're onto Ace. Rose is struggling to do anything, David has started arguments with everybody & has a HUGE target on his back, Min lost a hand, and Charles is worried about what the survivors might do.

But they bounced back before, and they'll bounce back again. (provided that Charles doesn't die, then they'll be fine. Whit's one of the glues holding them together and if his one lifeline gets cut, it'll spiral from there.)

#mastermind chaos AU #drdt #danganronpa despair time #something I didn't mention cuz I couldn't find the space:#Whit ended up making Charles custom glasses that automatically filter any blood to be pink; so he can actually help in the game #ofc Charles keeps trying to get used to blood; and won't always wear them #charles cuevas #david chiem #whit young #ace markey #j rosales #rose lacroix #min jeung #eden tobisa #mastermind au #tbh as I've been planning out this AU i've grown attached to the idea that they're a little fucked up found family #they understand each other on a level nobody else can touch; so ofc they keep each other close #that's not to say they're perfect; oh no.#Charles and whit are (almost dangerously) codependant; Rose's memory is getting worse with each day; David refuses to see the others as #anything but below him (even if he's just putting up an act; he pretends its the truth);#J and Ace are contsently bickering and trying to pull each other off their high horses; Min is drowning in guilt and regret; and Eden.#actually Eden is relatively okay. not great; but she's a bit more well adjusted then the others #-------------#if anyone is curious as to what I was distracted with; well I finished up my designs & names for a drdt warrior cats au :p

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ultimateplaylistmaker · 2 months ago

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Now how'd each of the other Protags do as Masterminds?

Well!

Mastermind Makoto is well *gestures at all of harbinger*

Hajjime is a perfect fucking fit due to his reserve course status, makes it a real underdog striking out against an unjust system story

Shuichi is well...he's been done a million times and Im not sure if I could do it better then the one au I saw ages ago (dont ask me to find it again) where the killing game was never meant to be real, but a sting operation to lure out a despair (tsumugi) no one was supposed to die or the game to be real, it was just pure bait

Kaede is fun but honestly not much to be done, probably one of the weaker potential masterminds outside of the juicy faking her death at the start idea

Mastermind Komaru isnt interesting and everyone always gets successor Komaru wrong anyways

#ndrv3 #goodbye despair #trigger happy havoc #anon chaos #ultra despair girls #mastermind au

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hansluvs · 15 days ago

Text

close to you — itoshi s.

i burn for you, and you don't even know my name - in which you make your debut into the ton expecting to find true love, and instead catch the attention of piercing teal eyes belonging to the man you swore to never acquaint yourself with.

wc: 3.1k+ (ongoing)

tags: regency au, itoshi sae x f!reader, strangers to lovers, (eventual) mutual pining, slow burn, sae is a little shit in every universe i will die on this hill

notes: took me a few months to get back to this but here it finally is! very excited for this idea it's been fermenting in my brain for a while

masterlist | next part

You were the youngest of five daughters and one son of the Nagi family, right after your older and only brother, Seishiro. Though born a year and three months apart, you were each other’s favorite plaything. Most of your childhood was spent pulling devious little tricks on one another, like you soaking his freshly-washed socks in your leftover afternoon tea, or him replacing the bristles of your hairbrush with hay.

Once the Mikages had moved in across the street, their only son had become the new victim of you and your brother's unspoken play-war against each other. Reo, now caught in the middle, had become a pawn in your games, often switching allegiances to suit your brother's whims or your own strategic interests.

Some days he would side with you and be your second-in-command, working together to devise clever pranks and schemes to outsmart your brother. However, most days found him being Seishiro's commanding chief, often being the mastermind to whatever ploy they had planned against you. Your brother, who couldn't even be bothered to protest, would simply play along, revelling in the chaos and mayhem that Reo's plans would bring. Your warm, humid afternoons would be filled with shrieks and squeals of laughter, running around the vast expanse of green behind the Mikage's summer estate.

Throughout the years, your little trio's dynamic has not been subject to much change, which is why you found yourself once again in the middle of another one of Reo's plans.

"Once the music stops, we'll bow to one another and you will walk in his direction," Reo whispers, delicately swaying the pair of you back and forth, the sound of the string quartet gradually softening and signalling the end of the dance.

"I will accompany you, of course." He adds, noticing the slight purse of your lips.

As you cross one leg behind the other in a bow to Reo, you risk a glance towards the prominent figure in the far left corner, unsurprised that his teal eyes are still watchfully trained on you.

You move to leave as the dance floor is once again vacated, but Reo holds a firm grip on your hand, looping it around his forearm as he smoothly pulls you to walk beside him. Trying to wriggle out of his grip is useless; with his constant travel and even taking up fencing all in the past year, Reo's physique has noticeably enhanced since the last time you'd needed to escape his iron-hold. His arm tenses beneath your hand as he strides, a subtle reminder of the strength and agility he's developed through his various pursuits.

"Reo, please, I need a drink."

"Do you, now?" he looks from you to the corner where Itoshi Sae is currently settled in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I believe I spot a drink or two right over there."

Indeed right next to a table of refreshments, Sae is still currently looking at you, a slight tilt to his head as your strange pair approach him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of you and Reo together.

As you begin to feel the inky tendrils of dread creeping behind your heart, you attempt to make up more and more ridiculous excuses that Reo masterfully shuts down, until you are all but a few paces away from the object of your (questionable) demise.

Five paces, four... those opal eyes follow your every movement like a hawk.

Three, then two paces left, until he is right next to you, his tall figure towering over you like some menacing giant, with a haunting teal gaze that seems to bore into your very soul. The man's imposing presence making you feel small and vulnerable as he remains in his corner, eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You shift your gaze over to Reo, who now oddly seemed to have lost the bounce in his step from before. He hands you a glass of lemonade, gives you an encouraging smile and then, with all the subtlety of a headless fowl, hurries to sneak off, leaving you alone with the elder Itoshi sibling. You watch as he makes his way towards your brother, who's sudden shift in interest is apparent on his face once he sees Reo approaching.

You, on the other hand, do your best to ignore the burning gaze on your temple as you sip from your glass and mindlessly poke around the plated pastries. Briefly, you brave a peek at the man and consequently match once more with his intense gaze. You flash a quick, awkward smile at him before looking away and feeling a sudden heat rise to your cheeks, flustered.

Behind you, seemingly oblivious to your distress, the other guests present continue to flit around, the room again filling with music and an assortment of people in colorful attire scurrying to occupy the empty ballroom floor once more.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

A monotonous voice speaks up from beside you, startling you effectively, but you are quick to recover. "No, not at all!"

Maybe it was the slight squeak in your voice, but Itoshi Sae did not seem to like your answer.

"Oh. How unfortunate," he muttered, almost to himself. However, you had heard him quite well, the two of you secluded in your little corner of the room. His tone was laced with a hint of disdain, and in return you felt a slimy chill slide down your spine, the room feeling slightly colder despite the large turnout.

Right before you could respond to his odd comment, the sound of someone calling out your name echoed from across the room.

You turn around in time to watch Reo and more surprisingly, your brother, approaching fast. Donned each with a suspiciously glum look on their faces, Reo speaks up first as they walk up to you.

"It is time to leave. I'm afraid your mother is not feeling quite well, she is already resting in the carriage,"

Your brows shoot up and immediately you set down your cup, reaching out to grab onto Reo's arm, when Sae — whom you had completely forgotten about — clears his throat. The three of you looked up at him, startled that he had anything to say at all about the situation. What was possibly even more startling, however, was when he addressed you.

"I suppose you owe me a dance and a proper conversation at the next ball. I do hope your mother does not fall ill."

Reo takes your hand and whisks you away alongside Seishiro before you had a chance to process his statement and respond, leaving you wringing your hands in worry as you tend to your mother in your family carriage, Sae’s lingering gaze on you long forgotten.

#but do you know (you’re demolishing me)#close to you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock #bllk

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gingerbreadmonsters · 8 days ago

Text

something to believe in

or: and i am crowned king, over all the lands of wonder.

gn!reader, warnings for yandere-typical obsession and mild stalking, sweet little warden’s what-could-have-been. i beg, i beg – do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you! an AU of the AU – consider this an alternate origin story for the vega and warden of human nature, that’s a little less canon-compliant and a little more obsessive. inspired by turn around, look at me by the vogues and shakespeare’s sonnet 147, and forever indebted to the utter gorgeousness that comes from the wonderful @sincerelywhistler. don’t bother haunting me. warden getting a certain someone under their skin in 9000 words or less.

part of the skyside oops! all yandere! collab for halloween – do go and check that out to see all the spooky, creepy goodness that the server has to offer! there's some incredible talent on display in there, and i'm very very grateful to the lovely @angelicaether for masterminding it all -- thank you for letting me in to peddle my ridiculous fascination with vega and warden yet again 💕😅💫

series masterlist

main masterlist

(...wait, what do you mean, 'vega's not the yandere one here'? you couldn't possibly mean – no, you wouldn't dare...)

He's so beautiful.

Grey light flickers coldly across the wall, and the droning chatter of the radio fills the air. The room is more crowded than usual, dull footsteps muffled by thin carpet, and it’s almost uncomfortably warm.

How long has it been? You can’t really remember. Months, at least, perhaps even a year – and yet the same thought echoes through your head even now, all this time later.

It’s oddly reassuring, to think of his beauty. A comforting thought, a soothing refrain. A smooth, well-worn groove in your mind, familiar ease as it slides into place. There are so few things that you can be sure of, so few things you can rely upon, that it’s reassuring to have something to hold onto. Something that you know won’t ever change, something that couldn’t possibly leave you.

It’s reliable, a rare constant amid the habitual chaos. It’s calm, and it’s sweet, and it’s kind. It might even be true.

I hope it’s true.

You wouldn’t know. You’ve never actually seen him.

It's become habit now, whenever you have a moment. You’re almost surprised that they haven’t asked you to start paying rent, with how often you find yourself here. Ageing monitors flicker with blurry static, the monochrome shapes of prisoners reflected exactly in your eyes.

The human officers here in the security room don't like it, but there's not actually much they can say – you’ve got the clearance to be here, because your job requires you to have access to the inmate records that are kept in this room. And even when they do try to keep you out, you're not above a little harmless cloaking to sneak in here unnoticed. Hiding is second nature to someone like you, and you’re very, very good at it.

None of them are that good at magic anyway, but it wouldn't really matter if they were. No human, Department or otherwise, could find you in a million years, even if they wanted to.

You’d actually been right here in this room, standing over by the filing cabinet, when you’d first heard of him. The Stealth who’s normally in here was sitting at his desk opposite the door, filling out some sort of incident report, and you’d overheard him complaining about it to one of the Freelancer correctional officers nearby.

It’s not as though incident reports have ever been anything unusual at this facility, but your demon’s senses weren’t fooled. The smell of blood was thick in the air, unmistakable even as it was drowned out by a stinging wave of antiseptic, along with the persistent, unsettled tension bubbling in his core. It was unusually sour, but not bitter – you remember having to fight the urge to wrinkle your nose. Something must have happened.

The story, when you started paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t entirely routine – but it didn’t sound like anything too out of the ordinary. An altercation during the morning rounds, a mistake by one of the human wardens. Six injured, and two in critical condition. A prisoner being moved from the high-security corridor to the maximum-security block.

That sort of thing doesn’t exactly happen every day at the facility, but it’s to be expected when you’re dealing with so many dangerous inmates. That’s the whole reason why the maximum-security building even exists – this place, just like the countless other containment facilities scattered across the country, is more or less a dumping ground for whoever the Department can’t fix, and whatever they aren’t powerful enough to kill.

Mildly curious, you’d snuck a look down at his desk as you walked past, trying to nonchalantly peek at the report while the Stealth was looking away. Eyes darting across the page in a split second, greedily taking in as much as you could. He hadn’t filled much of it out, but right there, at the top of the page—

An identification number, and a prisoner’s name. Vega.

Vega.

The name hadn’t been immediately familiar, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t recognised it. You remember the familiar feeling of the sky stretching out inside your skull, how readily the slim shape of Lyra had revealed itself to you, its brightest star glittering in your mind’s eye.

An altercation, eight wounded. A demon prisoner, dangerous enough that the Department had wanted to put them away in one of the most highly-guarded containment facilities in the country… but who hadn’t killed a single human warden when the opportunity arose?

There had been no picture attached to the report, but all you really needed was the name. You’d looped back around to the records cabinet, gaze darting around the room to check that nobody was watching you, before opening the drawer where the high-security inmate records were kept – at the time, you didn’t have access to the maximum-security files, so you’d been hoping that his record hadn’t been moved yet.

A-E, F-J, K-O... The file separators had been put in rather haphazardly, but luckily they’d all been roughly in the right places. Yellow folders for humans, red ones for demons. Blessedly, the Department’s insistence on keeping paper records as well as digital ones meant that the file had still been there. Silently, you’d pulled the right one free and flipped the folder open, to find—

Oh…

With him being a demon, you knew that you didn’t really need to see a picture. As a matter of course, it’s rare for any of your kind to have a consistent appearance, unless you happen to be involved with long-term human affairs like the Department. A photograph of a demon is almost always useless – all it tells you is that a demon might have worn that face once, but that doesn’t mean that they’d ever worn it before, or would wear it again.

The photo was a little out of focus and slightly distorted, courtesy of the terrible quality that so often plagues photographs of demons. Arcana tends to show up poorly on camera, so demons who don’t bother to synthesise a tangible, physical skin surface usually end up looking blurrier than their surroundings. It’s infuriating for humans, unused to their complicated electrical technologies failing, but until they invent a better type of camera, there’s not actually much they can do about it.

Despite the dim, grainy quality of the photo, the face of the demon looking out at you was utterly striking. Sharp, handsome features, somehow delicate and cruel all at once. The shape of tall horns, cut off at the top by the edge of the frame. Long, dark hair falling down past his shoulders, the suggestion of a bitter smile. A cold, empty glare that seemed to slice right through the paper it was printed on.

He’s so beautiful.

You’d only been able to stare, somehow entranced. He’d looked so… so demonic, nothing filtered out or watered down, in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever seen on Elegy. You can remember how your own eyes ached to see his, sclera unashamedly black and shiny, how your head began to pound, suddenly all-too-aware of the pressure of keeping your horns cloaked.

You’d held an unnecessary breath as you brought the photo closer to your face, as if looking harder might reveal something new you’d missed. The picture showed so disappointingly little, and all you wanted was to know more. What else about him was demonic? Did he breathe? Did he blink? Would his claws be long, would his tongue be pointed – and if he bared his fangs, how many would there be?

His file wasn’t especially long or detailed, so you’d raced through it, soaking up all the information you could. A Sadism demon, imprisoned for experimenting on humans, captured after a fight with an incubus somewhere in downtown Dahlia. Unable or unwilling to speak out loud, broadly uncooperative when approached outside of feeding periods, generally passive but highly dangerous if provoked.

Skilled manipulator, known to use violence, intimidation, and coercion. Openly admits to significant history of human experimentation, with no signs of guilt or desire for repentance. Ambivalence towards human suffering and casual threats of violence strongly indicate potential to cause significant harm and/or fatal injury. Consider a possible threat to life.

More than anything else, he sounded fascinating.

Without really noticing, you’d stopped paying attention to the rest of the security room – you jumped at the sudden whine of the radio at your hip as it crackled to life, the voice of one of your superiors from upstairs calling you back. Hurriedly, you’d jammed all of the papers into the folder before slotting it back into the file organiser, re-locking the drawer, and scurrying out of the room without looking at anyone.

For the rest of the day it had been all you could think about, this mysterious demon locked away in the depths of Block E, the maybe-shape of his once-silhouette burned into your brain. What would he be like? Would his voice be high or low? What would his aura feel like, as it curved to fit against yours? Filling out paperwork, preparing for tomorrow’s rehabilitation sessions, trudging into meetings behind your supervisor – you might as well have been a million miles away, consumed with curiosity and the thought of a distant star.

Those thoughts never went away, only getting stronger and stronger as days began to pass, then weeks, then months. The shape of Lyra seemed to call to your unconscious mind, its sparkle almost as comforting as that of your own constellation, singing out through the blackness of space to grasp the glimmer of your namesake star. You began to come into work even earlier than before, finding ever more excuses to loiter in the security room and stare at the small, faded monitor that held the camera feed you were desperate to see.

It didn’t matter that the video was always blurry. It didn’t matter that there was no sound, or no colour, or that it would skip and stutter every few seconds. He never moved, except to shift his gaze minutely from the wall to the door – he never spoke, and even if he had it wouldn’t have been aloud. With no window for the sunlight to move across, even his shadow was still, painted black across the wall behind him.

Day after day, hour after hour, a perfect statue in the garden of your mind. You watched him endlessly, unblinking eyes swallowing up each grey pixel of his being. Every halting, crackling frame of his existence, precious treasure to be hoarded in the soft fats of your simulated body.

The world had changed, and yet nobody ever noticed. Your supervisor was thrilled that you were working more and talking less, eager to push even more of her responsibilities onto you than she already was. The rest of the office followed suit, the few that had ever spoken to you before now thoroughly disinterested in your new enthusiasm for work, hardly aware of the way your eyes would glaze over as soon as you could sit down at your desk and disappear into a daydream.

It had been a surprise, even to you. You never used to dream.

When you first came to Elegy, you didn’t know how to sleep. You’d been taught what it was, and that humans had to do it, but nobody had ever shown you how it worked. All you knew was that it was something that happened at night, and that a human who didn’t do it would die.

Gradually, you’d managed to figure out roughly what it was. A sort of unconsciousness to allow humans to replenish their energy, that happens in the dark on a soft sleeping pad. It takes hours and hours, and it can only start if they lie very, very still. Their bodies move while they sleep, but not on purpose, and occasionally they see bizarre visions that some say can predict the future.

They call happy visions dreams, and scary visions nightmares. Demons, along with a small number of magical humans, can manipulate these premonitions if they like, but it’s not very kind to do it without permission. If a human finds out that you’ve been secretly messing with their dreams, they’ll get really upset.

It sounded weird. You didn’t want to sleep. It wasn’t something your body would ever need to do, and it didn’t sound like something you’d be interested in. Wouldn’t it be boring, to lie there in the dark without moving for so long? Wouldn’t it be strange, to feel your body moving without your say-so?

You did want to dream, though. What sort of odd things might reveal themselves to you? Maybe it would feel like being one of those human Seers. Demons have always been exempt from the Sight, but you’d wondered if perhaps this would be another way to look into the future.

You’d opened up your work computer and gone on the human internet to see if you could find out more about it, and daydreams sounded like just the right thing. A dream that could happen during the daytime, without needing to waste time sleeping – but unfortunately, upon closer inspection it didn’t seem like quite what you were looking for. It was just a fancy name for being bored, for thinking about random things instead of whatever was going on in real life, and you’d been quite disappointed.

That hadn’t stopped you trying, though. And once you’d started, you’d been hooked.

The life of an Inchoate is nothing if not hungry. An Inchoate demon’s body burns through Arcana faster than any other, a sick sort of penance for being so greedy in its tastes. Nothing satisfies it, nothing can satisfy it. The great chasm inside, the yawning black hole in your core shrieks and wails endlessly, crying out for something to satiate its impossible need. It’s like a child or an animal, this wretched form, thinking of nothing but more, give me more, I need more!

There’s no proof, but you’ve always wondered if that’s why you’ve ended up the way you have. When your hunger can’t eat, it starts to eat you – is it that exhausted desperation, forever staggering and stumbling away from the beast inside, that’s driven you down this path? Open wide, open wide, open wide. When your own body punishes you for the crime of its own existence, what petty rules should you even care to follow?

It’s torture. The entire earth to feed you, and your eternal curse is to starve.

Not then, though. Not when you learnt how to dream. Suddenly, the world was opened to you, the concrete walls of the facility falling easily away. You didn’t have to think. You could let your thoughts drift on the breeze, falling through your fingers like a handful of sand, letting your body do the work as your head floated far away. Papers came and went, stamped and signed, the rhythmic tapping of keyboard clicks a lullaby that soothed you into blissful escapism.

You didn’t have to sit at that dreadful desk, you didn’t have to listen to those awful humans. You could go somewhere else, somewhere good and bright and kind, where the earth was sweet and the stars danced in the sky. It would be a place where you’d never need to be alone – the deep, aching loneliness of life on Elegy would fade into nothingness, and you’d finally have found what you were looking for.

People who would never leave you behind, who would notice when you weren’t there. Who would want to spend time with you, and who would want to talk to you because they liked you, not just because there was nobody else to talk to. Happy, funny, charming people who’d smile when they saw you and sigh when you left – and you’d be just as charming, just as funny, just as happy.

You wouldn’t be missing out, anymore. The special, secret place in your head was filled with sweets and cake and shiny glitter, and every day you dreamt of the same thing. The gnawing inchoate hunger would fade, and you’d finally be satisfied. Filled to the brim with good feelings, permeating every speck of your being, stuffed with happiness and joy and contentment until you could barely even move.

Each detail painted and polished in a thousand rainbow colours, a charmed life that only you could see. The very air would be golden, and the sea clear and warm. Friends, real friends, the sort that you’d always wished for but never really known. For the first time, you’d be someone’s first choice.

As pleasant as those daydreams were, you’d never been able to entirely ignore the quiet, nagging sensation that something was missing – something deep and vital, some unspoken absence right at the aching heart of it. Some feeling that you couldn’t quite place, one you only faintly recognised in the back of your mind. It was oddly raw, tender and bloody like a bite and a bruise all at once. A bitterness, a loneliness, a new sort of hunger that had no name.

No name, that is, until him.

Paper rustling as you flicked through his file, the song of the computer cables and the air conditioner and the CCTV. He was just so irresistibly, incredibly singular, a tantalising mystery. You couldn’t let it go – the perfect image of him, in bright and painful clarity, cutting through the distortion. You wanted him, you want him, in a way you can’t possibly hope to explain.

It’s like a disease. Your daydreams are filled with thoughts of Vega, outlined in passion and coloured with longing. How he’ll hold you like a lover, the smooth slide of his tail against yours, how he’ll smile as your horns knock softly against his when he kisses you. His fangs will surely be sharp as they carve their way into your soft neck, and his claws will surely sting as he takes your waiting hand in his. The saccharine fantasy is as beautiful as it is hazy, vague impressions of flowers and ribbons and sparkles stamped across the inside of your skull.

Perhaps your mind has been warped by the shallow trappings of human romance, the miserable weakness of their feelings – is it truly demonic to want those things, or have you just been on Elegy for too long? Even if you have, does it matter? It doesn’t make the cravings go away. He’s the answer to your prayers. Contentment, companionship, escape.

There’s another feeling, too, that seems to flicker to life when you think of him. Imagining him so close to you, his hands and his fangs and his voice, the drag of your fingers across his simulated skin. The quiet fizz of Arcana as you finally touch him, again and again, the eager harmony of the magic that makes you as it begins to sing with him. It’s dark and rich, settling somewhere deep in your body and making you feel all… all strange. This facsimile of a human body starts to rebel – your mouth suddenly seems too dry, your skin too hot and your heart too fast. You gasp for deep breaths you don’t need, unusually restless, struggling to push down the bubbly, sparkling sensation that crashes over you like a wave.

You don’t know what that feeling is, and it’s frightening and thrilling in equal measure. There’s something addictive about it, the way it drips and pools in the soft tissues of your body like honey, thick and warm and slow. Your body feels elastic, muscles stretching and contracting in the heat, and your eyes close without you even really noticing.

When you meet him, you’ll have to ask him what it is. He must know. Perhaps he’ll teach you.

The plan was always going to be tricky to pull off. Most of your work takes place with human prisoners, so you weren’t even allowed into his cell corridor before he was moved, but now that he’s being kept in the maximum-security block it’s even harder to get access. That place is so heavily surveilled and guarded that it’s practically impossible to get near it – you have to get signed approval from your department head, book in a timed entry window so they know when you’ll be there and for how long, then pass through several high-level security checks before you can go inside.

Even if you could fake your way through all of that, you wouldn’t be able to go in alone regardless. Nobody is allowed to enter unaccompanied, no matter the reason. It's a facility policy that technically applies in all the cell blocks, but in practice it’s only the maximum-security and demon-holding areas that enforce it. Those are the most dangerous places for officers to go alone, where the inmates are far too dangerous or powerful to be dealt with one-on-one, so it makes sense – but for your purposes, it’s an infuriating, insurmountable roadblock.

You’d need to find someone to go with you who wouldn’t mind what you’re going to do, and what are the odds of that? As far as you’re concerned, it’s basically impenetrable.

Unless you count Camelopardalis, that is.

He’s only a temporary fixture at the holding facility, on loan from the headquarters in Dahlia as part of the biennial staff training initiative, and he's so lovely. You'd never had the chance to really meet him before, seeing as this is the first year he’s been assigned to your department, but he’s just so effortlessly friendly that you can’t help but like him. He’s always saying hello to you in the corridors, or striking up a short but sweet conversation at your desk when he passes by, his quiet smile somehow infectious despite his understated nature.

Once, he even managed to miraculously convince your department head to let you take an extra half-hour’s break during lunch, and you’d spent it chatting away together in the cafeteria about all sorts of things. It turns out that he’s remarkably funny once you get him talking, all dry wit and wry observations – you’d almost cried laughing at his impression of the superintendent from upstairs, one hand clinging to his arm to keep yourself upright, and you can still remember the sparkle in his eyes as he lightly rested his free hand on top of yours in return.

The walk back to your desk together had been far too short. He’s such a gentleman, you’ve always thought, so charming and polite.

You find yourself bumping into Camelopardalis – or Cam, as he insists you call him – quite a lot these days, now that you come to think of it. Not that you’re complaining, of course. He makes for extremely pleasant company, kinder to you than you remember any of the humans who normally work here ever being. In fact, you’d probably say that he’s the closest thing to a real, proper friend that you’ve ever had.

It’s not his fault that he’s just a little bit too late.

If only it had been him, this would all be so much easier. In your mind’s eye, you can see it all now, as clearly as anything. He’d do it properly for you, you know he would – flowers and letters and kisses on the doorstep, a shy smile on his face every time he held your hand. Nothing would hurt, and nothing would go wrong. He’d be happy, and you’d be happy too. You would have loved to fall in love with Cam.

The great tragedy of the solar eclipse. In another life, perhaps he could have been something more. But here, now, the jagged shadow of your secret fascination looms too large for you to ever ignore, drowning the small shape of a lone Serenity daemon in its all-consuming darkness.

“After you.”

Harsh, white light bears down on both of you as Cam holds the door open, gesturing to you with his other hand. Dipping your head in thanks, you hurry through the doorway and into the screening room, permit papers in hand.

He’s told you before that he’s been trying to push for more focus on the treatment of demonic prisoners, especially considering how human-heavy the facility staff is, but the higher-ups are never willing to put enough resources into training to make any sort of meaningful difference. Apathy – or maybe just laziness, I guess, he’d said mournfully, over a paper cup of dreadful-tasting office coffee. All these years, and it's like they haven't realised how dangerous it is for humans to even attempt to incarcerate demons. Considering the state of this place, it's a miracle there hasn't been a riot already.

You'd just shrugged, resigned. It's not like they care about any of the inmates, anyway. What made you think they'd do anything special for the demons?

Wishful thinking, probably. But what else can I do?

It's not as if you disagree with him. He's entirely right, and the treatment of demons here needs to change before something goes horribly wrong. But if it just so happens that his attempts to increase staff development might overlap with your curiosity about a certain, very well-guarded demon, then can you really be blamed for what might unfold?

You’d asked him to bring you here as part of your training – a mostly made-up excuse about wanting to get better at working with demonic inmates, rather than being restricted to just human ones. You have clearance to speak to the human maximum-security inmates, and you've seen most of the areas where demonic inmates are kept, even if you can't speak to them. So, you’d managed to persuade Cam that you needed to see the difference between the human and demon restricted areas for yourself – that the only place it would be worth taking you would be the one place you've never been allowed to enter.

Fortunately, he seemed to swallow the excuse easily enough. He even said it wasn't that difficult to get your entry clearance temporarily modified upwards, so that he could take you – it seems like your recent industriousness has paid off with your supervisor. Cam says he thinks it's because she's recognising how efficient and obedient you are, but you suspect that she's hoping to promote you so you’ll be allowed to take on even more of her work. Useless, lazy idiot. All she does is complain about the work everyone else is doing, instead of actually doing anything herself. What do they even keep her around for?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You know what you’re here to do.

The security checks go quickly, the two of you ushered through a variety of metal detectors and aura scanners. It’s still kind of funny to you whenever they make you do biometric scans, considering how easy it is for you to fake your way through – you hadn’t even had fingerprints before you started working for DUMP – but it’s probably just so the process is the same for everyone who comes through here.

“Ready?”

Cam gives you a soft, kind smile as he waits by the door to the cell corridor, one hand already on the unlock mechanism. “You remember the plan, right?”

The air in this block is thick and sugary, so heavily saturated with magic that it feels like toffee sticking your teeth together. You nod, trying not to look as jittery as you feel.

“Right hand side, cell number 1028. You’re going to do the talking, and I’m just there to watch.”

Cam dips his head in acknowledgement. “And your panic switch?”

You push your sleeve up just a little, so he can see the flat, orange band around your wrist. It’s coded to your magical signature, just like your normal green one, but an ordinary bracelet wouldn’t be able to get through the intensity of the wards in this block. This one is specially made to work in such a high-saturation environment, and you can feel the powerful magic inside it resonating faintly through your wrist and making your fingers slightly numb.

“Very good,” he says, and the door swings silently open. “Let’s go.”

The cell corridor is wide and bleak, just like every other, all concrete and painted metal. It’s bright, as is standard, grim floodlights blasting the space with blindingly-white light, and the lack of windows makes it impossible to tell whether it’s night or day outside. There’s no breeze, but you grimace at how cold it is, any warmth you might have had leached away in an instant.

Following Cam down the corridor, it’s impossibly quiet. The warding magic in the air is so dense that your footsteps don't echo, layers and layers of energy folding over themselves and slowing your movements so much that it’s difficult to walk – you can imagine that a human would have a hard time even breathing normally. No wonder none of the human officers want to come here. You don’t know for sure, but you imagine that this is how it would feel to walk along the bottom of the sea, the unyielding, compressive power of all that water constricting your body as it bears down on you. Uncompromising force, inescapable pressure.

Your unwitting companion doesn’t know it, but you’ve come prepared. Thanks to your idiot supervisor, you’ve had access to the maximum-security prisoner files for weeks now, so you know exactly which cell you’re really looking for. You’re almost there, you’re almost there! As you pass by, you can’t help but hold your breath in giddy nervousness, the zing of adrenaline fizzing in your mouth as you fight to keep the excitement off your face.

Cam stops outside cell 1028, the reinforced door heavy and imposing, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to stop yourself from turning your head to the left. The cell door you want is so, so close, but you can’t give the game away just yet.

We’re here, he murmurs into your mind, seemingly unwilling to break the silence. Still feeling up to it?

Resolutely, you meet his eyes. Yeah. I’m ready.

He knocks softly on the door, probably out of habit – it’s not like the sound would be able to get through the wards on the cell, no matter how hard he knocked – and presses his palm to the unlock switch on the wall. His magic surges, swirling through his hand and into the mechanism, before the panel flashes green and the door unlocks.

“Regulus, yes?” he says to the prisoner inside, and you follow him into the cell before the door locks behind you. “My name is Camelopardalis. I’m here to speak with you about the events of last week, if that’s alright with you.”

The temporary ward that activated when the door released keeps the prisoner, Regulus, from actually reaching you, so he sits on the bed while you conjure two chairs for you and Cam to sit on. You already knew that he was an Empathy daemon before you came in, and that he’s not even meant to be in this block at all – that’s the only reason Cam had been allowed to bring you. He’s not actually very aggressive, so he’s normally in one of the lower-security areas, but apparently there was some incident a few days ago that means they’ve moved him in here for his own safety while his ordinary cell is being repaired.

Cam and Regulus talk for a while, but you don’t really take in much of the discussion, to be honest. You’re mostly just distracted by your own racing heartbeat, choking on the tension that nobody else can feel. Why does it matter, whatever it is they’re talking about? Why should you even care? There’s something much more important going on, something so deeply, intensely vital that you couldn’t possibly focus on anything else.

He’s here, he’s here. Right now, at this very moment, you’re just a few metres away from Vega. The object of your obsession, the mystery that you’re longing to solve. You might never get this chance again. In just a few minutes, you’ll see him – at last, you’ll see him with your own eyes, see all the things the cameras can’t show.

Oh, if only you could have come here alone. You could spend hours here, you’re sure, making up for all the days and nights spent looking at the poor facsimile of him that decorates the surveillance screens in the security office. How close will you be able to get? How long will you be able to look? If you’re lucky, you might even—

“Is there anything else you’d like to speak about while I’m here?”

Cam’s voice jolts you from your whirling thoughts, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he speaks to the prisoner, and you try your best to look like you’ve been paying attention.

…Yes.

His voice is faintly muffled, as if through glass, and it belatedly occurs to you why that is. You hadn’t really noticed, but you realise that Cam has been the only one speaking aloud, while Regulus has been using telepathy to project his words through the temporary ward. Perhaps it’s that he doesn’t know how to speak, or maybe that he just doesn’t like to.

You’ve often heard that Empathy daemons have trouble learning how to speak out loud, partly because they develop at a different rate to other demons, and partly because they’re not meant to be observed by humans who aren’t their charges. They’re taught to speak telepathically as much as they can, so that other humans nearby can’t hear their disembodied voices when they’re invisible, but that generally means that they have difficulty remembering how physical speech is meant to work.

In any case, he must say something to Cam that he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel a tiny burst of Serenity-flavoured magic bubble against your aura, a polite warning, and the conversation goes entirely silent as they continue to speak.

This is it – now or never. Catching Cam’s eye, you blink once and incline your head ever so slightly towards the door. He blinks in reply, and you can tell that he’s not entirely sure why you want to leave, but his aura seems to acquiesce. Gratefully, you stand up from your chair and hurry out of the cell, bracelet letting you slip easily through the door and the wards.

You’ll have to hurry. Cam shouldn’t technically have let you do that, seeing as it's facility policy for you to stay together at all times in the maximum-security areas, but you’re hoping that he thinks you’re just being polite to Regulus by not staying when he obviously doesn’t want you to overhear him. He doesn’t seem to pose much of a threat, so why would you need to worry? Even if he tried to break through the ward and do something to Cam, he’s got a panic bracelet just like you – and from what you can tell of Cam, he seems like he could hold his own if it really came down to it. He’ll be fine.

Steeling yourself, you turn your back to the door and cross over to the other side of the corridor, one door to the left. The small, metal plate above the door says 1025.

It’s such a short distance, yet it feels like a lifetime. Creeping closer and closer to the cell, your eyes are fixed on the small, rectangular viewing slot. It’s heavily warded, just like the rest of the door, so there’s no need for it to ever close – you’re told that it’s a security measure, installed so that prisoners can never know when they’re being directly observed. All they can see is a bright, clouded blur, regardless of whether someone’s looking through it or not.

Paranoia seeps through your brain, freezing water soaking through the back of your skull. You’ll surely be on camera right now, but nobody’s really watching, are they? Unless something happens, nobody ever really pays attention to the CCTV – and nothing’s going to happen, right? There’s nothing suspicious about just looking, is there?

Something moves, a trembling blur just at the edge of your vision. Your head snaps down, eyes instinctively searching for the danger, but it’s – ah.

Your hands are shaking. That’s never happened before.

How… human of you.

The crushing silence seems to clutch at your ankles as you come to a stop, terrifying in its totality. It feels wrong, somehow, for it to be so quiet. Like this place is somehow separate from the rest of the world, an unearthly space out of step with the rest of this plane.

Reinforced metal lines the walls, cell doors towering over you. The air feels even heavier in your chest than before, so thoroughly saturated with power that it seems to pop and crackle with each breath. Was the ceiling quite this low before? White light floods the corridor, and its reach is so complete that you cast no shadow.

It’s too late to back out. You’ve got to do this now, before Cam comes out of that cell and asks you what you’re doing. Your whole body feels on edge, pulse hammering in your throat and stomach all strange and fluttery, like a fizzy can of soft drink that’s been all shaken up. Careful of the ward alarm, you don’t touch the door, but you lean slowly towards the viewing slot, and—

and—

Oh…

You can’t move.

You can’t even think.

All you can do is stare.

Demonic bodies are inherently static, in a way that human bodies just can’t replicate. There’s no need to breathe or blink or swallow – there’s no real need to do anything, except feed, and you don’t have to move to do that. Behaviours like nodding or fidgeting are entirely cultivated, learned habits from an age-old history of human coexistence.

Stillness makes humans uncomfortable, so your species has learnt not to stand still. It’s half courtesy, half pragmatism. Skin changes colour to blush without blood, the hand pulls back from the flame half a second too late. At its core, it’s about survival. Codependence, long exposure. The mimicry of a predator.

Yes, a predator. The creature before you, utterly unmoving as he sits on the side of the bed, is something much, much worse.

No photo could have done him justice, no blurry camera footage could have captured him in enough delicate detail. You can only see his side profile, and yet you’re struck by how immensely, instantly handsome he is – you can’t explain exactly why, but something about his face is just so captivating that you can’t tear your eyes away.

He’s like a sculpture in a museum, all strong lines and clean angles. Sharp horns jut cruelly away from his face, starkly silhouetted by the bright light from above, and you briefly wonder if they’d draw blood if they were to touch your skin. They’re not glossy, as such, but they do seem to reflect the light slightly. Soft white illuminates the tiny ridges and curves in their surface, glinting off the vicious-looking points in a way you’ve never seen before on Elegy.

It’s like the light doesn’t quite know how to react to his magic, fracturing as it crashes over him, splintering and shattering like stained glass. Is it because of his form’s composition? It must be. You’ve never seen a demon able to do that – to take a physical, corporeal form in a way that permits existence on Elegy, but that still holds the qualities of the raw magic it’s composed of. It’s completely enchanting. You’re not sure a human would be able to see it.

His hair is long and smooth, parted just in front of his horns so a little of it frames his face on either side. The rest is gathered up high somehow at the crown of his head, before falling gracefully down his back. His stillness makes it impossible to tell, but you imagine how it might move if he were to turn his head, dark strays fluttering lightly in the nonexistent breeze. Your fingers ache to reach out and touch it, to brush your claws across his jaw and push his hair back behind his pointed ear.

The dull prisoner’s uniform he wears is in perfect shape, not a single crease or stain to mar the coarse, sand-coloured fabric. Your gaze drags across his form, searching eagerly for what few hints of his shape you can discern, but it’s not much. You can see that he’s tall, certainly taller than you – which, to be fair, you already knew from his file – and the apparent litheness of his frame does nothing to betray the strength that you know must hide there. The half-sleeves of his uniform finish just above the elbow, leaving his forearms bare where his hands are folded in his lap. His tail disappears as it curves around past the far side of his body, and the tips of his claws are lethally sharp as they catch the light from above, long and elegant.

However he does it, the illusion is incredible. If you really focus, you can just about see the delicate shimmer of Arcana across his skin through the wards, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible. Although you can’t feel his aura, he looks old. Powerful.

Greedily, you drink in every millimetre of Vega’s being that you can see. He’s entirely mesmerising in his stillness, smooth and perfect like a statue of an angel. So immediately, inexplicably fascinating – how does he do it? What is it about him that draws you in? Your core longs to reach out to him, to call him to you, aura pressed up against the surface of the ward like it might slip right through.

Your whole world, filtered through a few inches of missing metal. Everything narrows down to now – this one, most vital moment. Fire seems to surge through your body, the blind faith of your conviction forged into something new, something raw, something hungry. It’s the feeling of falling, the blistering heat of a tumbling star. There’s no doubt in your mind – you can already feel it, strong hands digging into your waist, and you’re sure he’ll catch you. The cold blackness of space. A new type of gravity, falling into orbit.

It’s so much. Without really noticing, you stagger back a few steps, eyes still locked on the door in front of you as your body tries to grapple with the immense weight of this strange new feeling. You’re breathing far too harshly, teeth rattling as you tremble, your physicality unable to keep up with the seismic shock of emotion that ripples through your core. You’re changing, the feelings that make your form melting and morphing like water as your mind struggles to reckon with itself, the world around you coming into a new sort of focus.

You’re mine.

Silently, your unblinking eyes begin to cry. As you shudder, clinging frantically to the shape of your physical body, the words seem to take root at the awful, weeping heart of you. The delicate balance of emotion is undone and remade, that careful mixture that shapes everything you are and everything you want to be. You’re mine, and I want you, and I’ll have you. I want you, and I need you, and it’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine.

This shrieking, struggling sensation, thrashing in your chest like a bird in a cage. Wicked talons claw your ribs to pieces from the inside, catching on the bone, ripping and rending the fat and flesh and organs – you’re shredded into ribbons, coughing up feathers. Let it out, let it out, choke it down. How can you get away from the thing that’s inside you? The cruel beak peck peck pecking through the skin to get to him, and you’ve never wanted anything so horrifyingly, terrifyingly much.

Don’t make me stop. Mine, you’re mine. I can’t, I can’t, I need it – I want you, I want it, let me have it…

Do you even know what’s happening any more? Does it matter? All you know is this new and lovely creed, frightening in its intensity and dreadful in its desires, and you smile blackly as it blossoms deep inside your body, soaking into every astral part of you. It’s not a human sensation. It’s all-encompassing, a demon’s feeling. This incredible oneness, body and mind so connected as to be inseparable. To think it is to become it, and the only thing you can think about is how much you want – crave – need him. How it howls, how it hurts, an aching pressure that wraps around your heart like a snake, writhing as it crushes th—

“Is everything alright?”

“Cam!”

Your brain instantly floods with paranoia, sharp and white like a camera flash, the acid fear of instinctive shock lighting up your whole body as your head snaps inhumanly fast to the side, whipping around to see the confused-looking Serenity daemon standing right beside you.

“You…”

Stunned, there’s not much you can do except stare wide-eyed at him, desperately trying to hide the terrible storm that rages inside. He can’t know. He can’t.

“I, um… I wasn’t expecting you to be – you know, to be, like, right there…”

You trail off into a laugh that probably sounds as forced as it feels, breath still not quite back in your control. Cam doesn’t look entirely convinced, a tinge of worry bleeding through his aura, but he tilts his head slightly and puts on a smile that in any other case would be reassuring.

“Sorry for the surprise,” he murmurs soothingly, one hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He’s gentle, so gentle as he brushes the wetness from your face, the pad of his thumb just below your eye. “How about we head back to the office, hm?” he suggests. “I know this place can be… ah, it’s quite intense, isn’t it? Especially the first time.”

You nod vaguely, not really listening, but you can’t help the sudden flare of panic that races up your spine as he tries to nudge you back down the corridor. Not yet, not yet! He’s right there, your Vega, your Vega, you can’t just leave, can you? You have to do something, but wh—

“Oh!”

Cam freezes, stumbling slightly as you drag him down towards you – one arm around his waist, the other over his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms wrap around you in return, palms flat across your back as you press the side of your head into the curve of his neck. You can feel every breath he takes, chest to chest, slotting easily against you.

Just… just a second, you whisper into his mind, and you don’t even have to pretend to feel overwhelmed. I just need…

He nods, so sweet and adoring, like he could ever understand. It’s alright. We’re not in a hurry. Take your time, okay?

From the outside, it probably looks like nothing happens.

That’s good.

You don’t stay there long. Only a few seconds – maybe half a minute, at most. Then, Cam leads you out of the cell corridor, and out of the maximum-security block entirely. Nobody stops you, and nobody says anything.

It’s not a very long walk. Inside, upstairs, through the badge check. He takes you back to the office, and sits you down at your desk, and the rest of the day passes entirely normally. Grey clouds drift past the window, threatening to rain but never quite managing it. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Yes, it’s very normal. Paperwork comes and goes, keyboard clattering non-stop until it’s dark outside, and you reach down to pick up your bag from underneath your desk. The front office is almost empty as you leave, only one or two people still around, and the man behind the desk doesn’t even look up from his computer as you sign out.

Yes, that’s it. Normal. Perfectly, exactly ordinary.

He hadn’t noticed a thing.

Perhaps he’d been distracted, or perhaps you really did pull it off. The cold air of the cell corridor, freezing you from the inside out as your eyes began to change – getting wider, darker, sharper. Focus changing, pupils expanding. Magic simmering beneath the surface of your skin, filling your eye sockets, dissolved into the liquid that a human would call tears.

Cam must not have realised how close you were to the door. He must not have thought how easy it would be to look through that thin, irresistible viewing slot, just one more time.

The bright sugar of temptation, fizzing sweet and tart on your tongue as you drank in the scene. A single figure, painted against the stark white of the wall behind him, sitting tall and graceful on the edge of the bed. The unmistakable shape of horns, viciously sharp, worn proudly like a crown. Long fingers twisting into light fabric, wicked claws threatening to tear right through. The pointed spade of a long tail, not quite hidden from view.

And two curious, pitch black eyes, staring straight back at you.

Caught between ticks of the clock – it was only for a moment. He couldn’t have known. He couldn’t. Considering the strength of the wards that envelop his cell, layers upon layers of complicated warding magic, it just isn’t possible that he could have sensed you at all – let alone seen you. He doesn’t know you even exist. There’s no way.

Inhuman perfection, the stone tears of the statue of an angel. Head tilted to the side, dark hair falling slightly over one shoulder. Frozen air turned to dust in your lungs, a still heart stuttered over a beat it couldn’t take – and slowly, ever so slowly, Vega had turned his head to look at you.

Head over heels, falling through space. He’s mine.

It’s always been so easy. The doors out of the front office are automatic, and they take a little while to close. It doesn’t take much to just step right back in, unnoticed as the guard looks away, and disappear back down the office corridor you came from.

In the morning, you’ll go and speak to your supervisor. ROLE AMENDMENT REQUEST: REHABILITATION OFFICER (DUAL SPECIALITY). You’re already certified to deal with humans, anyway, and the higher-ups don’t care about demons at the best of times – the form you’ve left on her desk is neatly filled out, block capitals in black ink, and you think she’ll say yes.

In the meantime, things are a little bit slow. It’s been dark outside for a few hours, and the night shift is only just starting. There’s a few security officers in here, dotted around at their desks, but they’re all too busy staring at their own computers to really pay any attention to the rest of the room.

Although the ceiling lights are always on, bathing the room in their harsh fluorescent glow, you’ve always thought that they leave the room remarkably dark. It’s the mass of screens that covers the far wall that really illuminates everything, the huge cluster of monitors where the CCTV feeds flicker endlessly. They seem to tower over you, a great monument to your grand ambition, a silent siren’s call. Magnetic, addictive. You can’t resist their pull.

It’s like a dance as you pick your way through the office, the imaginary rhythm of a waltz playing in your head with every step. Past the Earth Elemental who sits by the door, past the photocopier, underneath the ceiling fan. The stacks of paper in that Stealth’s intray don’t move as you skip happily through the gap between desks, your steps make no sound on the cheap carpet as you twirl past the nest of filing cabinets next to the coffee machine. Nobody looks up as you pass them, totally unaware of your presence, and that’s exactly the way you like it. They can’t see the brightness in your face or the lightness in your heart – it’s a special surprise, a secret just for you.

The Freelancer who’s meant to be watching the tapes is already sitting in the chair, so you have to stand. The electricity thrumming in the air reminds you of the thick magic of the maximum-security cells, that heavy taste of ozone coating your teeth and sliding slickly down your throat, and it makes you swallow involuntarily. How much longer will you have to do this? How long until this room is nothing but a distant dream?

You already know it’s going to be wonderful. All the glass and the plastic will fall away in a shower of sparks, cracking and popping as they hit the floor, and when you reach out to touch him you’ll find more than just a monitor. It’s a love story, isn’t it? He’ll be there, right in front of you, to touch and taste and feel. He’ll see you and he’ll smile, he’ll say it’s alright, my love, I’m yours. You’ll be safe, and you’ll be full, and you won’t ever be alone again.

Just a little longer to wait. Without you even noticing, a great big smile spreads across your face, and you’re struck with the sudden urge to press your face right up against the cold, flat surface of the monitor. The future has never been so close. At last – at last! – you’ll finally be happy.

Grey static, harsh and grainy. The buzzing song of the CCTV soars ever higher, a beautiful melody that rings like a bell, echoing through your skull. And there in front of you, immortalised forever in your eyes and your mind and your core, is the still, silent blur of pixels that makes up the perfect form of Vega, Vega, Vega.

He’s so beautiful.

The night shift carries on. You smile as the dim light goes through you, and invisible fingertips brush gently across the smooth glass of the screen.

He’s mine.

in the mood for more? here’s the series masterlist

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this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted vega #redacted warden #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters #redacted cam #redacted camelopardalis #redacted regulus #redacted fic

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