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letstalkaboutsebbaby · 2 months

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New World Order - Lloyd Hansen x OFC

I'm back! A/N: Well, I had a dream...so we have a story cause I need to write and get out of this strange place my life is at atm. Ok, anyway... Here comes Lloyd.

Story Summary:

Lloyd, a sociopathic former CIA agent, and Lilly, a sweet and determined art student find themselves drawn to each other and navigate their contrasting worlds, filled with danger, passion, and unexpected twists, against all odds. Starting against the backdrop of Paris, their journey unfolds as if fate itself is orchestrating a new path for them, challenging their beliefs and leading them towards a newfound understanding of love and redemption.

Chapter 1

Lloyd, a mercenary with a mysterious background, and Lilly, an art student on a short trip, engage in playful banter and share moments of curiosity and charm amidst the museum's art and history. Their connection starts to blossom, leaving both characters intrigued and reluctant to say goodbye.

The Louvre Museum buzzed with a quiet energy as visitors meandered through its grand halls, their footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. Among them, a figure clad in branded clothing moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd like a predator on the hunt. This was Lloyd, a mercenary with a penchant for calculated precision. Today, he was on a mission paid for by a contractor to track down a dealer who owed a debt.

As Lloyd kept a safe distance from his target, his attention was momentarily diverted by the presence of a group of art enthusiasts engaged in a guided tour. Amidst them, a young woman stood out like a beacon, her passion for art evident in the way she absorbed every detail around her.

Unbeknownst to Lloyd, his target slipped away amidst the museum's bustling activity. With a slight shake of his head, Lloyd reached for his phone and made a quick call, rescheduling his plans with his contractor. Before moving closer to the group, he discreetly took a picture of the captivating young woman and stowed his phone back in his pants pocket.

Staying one step behind her, Lloyd followed along as the group admired various paintings, including "The Battle Between Love And Chastity" by Pietro Perugino. Lloyd couldn't help but inject a touch of humor into the moment.

"Chastity always looks as if it's wondering if it's fighting the right battle," he mused, a smirk playing on his lips.

The young woman turned, her eyes meeting Lloyd's with a mixture of surprise and admiration. A faint blush tinted her cheeks as she found herself captivated by the handsome stranger before her. As the group moved away from the chastity painting, Lloyd subtly adjusted his pace to fall into step beside Lilly. With a casual yet confident tone, he remarked, "You know, I provide the best guided tour of the Louvre. If you rather have it, I'm available."

Lilly smiled appreciatively but shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I can only afford one guide for now."

Lloyd's response was quick and playful. "Who says anything about money?" he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lilly couldn't help but laugh at his boldness. "Will all your observations be historically accurate?" she teased.

Lloyd chuckled, his charm shining through. "Absolutely not," he admitted with a grin, enjoying the banter between them. Lilly was momentarily taken aback by Lloyd's boldness, her thoughts momentarily scattered by his charming demeanor. She stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to regain her train of thought.

Sensing her hesitation, Lloyd took a step closer, offering his hand with a warm smile. "Come on," he urged gently, his voice carrying a hint of invitation, "they can show you what's written in the books, but I can help you see more."

Lilly hesitated for a moment before accepting his hand, a small smile playing on her lips. As they walked toward the closest painting, Lloyd took the lead, positioning himself in front of it. "I'm Lloyd, by the way," he introduced himself.

"Lilly," she replied softly, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.

"Lilly and Lloyd," he mused with a grin, "sounds like a romantic comedy from the 90s. I had to point that out."

A soft chuckle escaped Lilly's lips. "I won't be able to disagree with that," she admitted, feeling a sense of ease in Lloyd's presence.

"Okay, look at this one," Lloyd said, pointing to a painting depicting Liberty.

Before he could say anything further, Lilly interrupted with a playful smirk. "Oh God, not this one. Please, we don't have to point out how Liberty is surely not a prude."

Lloyd grinned, leaning in closer to her and whispering in her ear, "Are you?"

Lilly looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as Lloyd's playful whisper registered in her ears. Sensing her reaction, Lloyd smoothly changed the subject. "So, is this your first time in Paris?" he asked, his tone light and conversational. "Yes, it's my first time," Lilly confirmed, her eyes curious as she looked up at Lloyd. "Do you live here in Paris?"

Lloyd chuckled, shaking his head. "Hell, no. I'm here for work."

Curiosity piqued, Lilly asked, "What do you work with?"

Lloyd's smile turned enigmatic. "Security business," he replied, keeping the details vague.

"And what about you? Are you here on vacation?" Lloyd inquired, shifting the focus back to Lilly.

"Kinda," Lilly admitted with a small shrug, "it's just a short trip, three days actually. I'm an art student, so I couldn't resist visiting the Louvre."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Oh, an art student? How old are you?" he asked, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

"28," Lilly answered with a chuckle, noticing Lloyd's momentary hesitation. "You looked a bit scared for a moment," she teased, her laughter infectious. "Don't worry, I'm legal. You're fine."

Lloyd's gaze softened as he spoke, his voice low and sincere. "I'm not sure this smile is legal," he murmured, his eyes lingering on Lilly's face. "I bet we can't find in any part of the Louvre a smile more beautiful than yours."

Lilly's expression shifted, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her features. "Are you like... playing with me?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with a touch of apprehension.

Lloyd met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and seriousness. "Tell you what," he proposed, his tone taking on a playful challenge, "if you can show me a smile more beautiful than yours in this museum, I'll leave you alone. But I swear, this is the only play I'm on."

As they strolled through the museum, Lloyd seamlessly transitioned into sharing intriguing facts and stories about the art pieces and the history of the place. His explanations were laced with humor and curiosity, making the tour not just informative but also enjoyable.

Lilly listened intently, her eyes lighting up with fascination as she learned about the intricate details and hidden meanings behind the artworks. From classical masterpieces to contemporary pieces, Lloyd's insights added depth to their exploration.

Every now and then, Lilly would point out a smile in a sculpture or a painting, prompting Lloyd's playful responses. "Your smile is way more beautiful," he would quip with a grin, earning a chuckle from Lilly. Other times, when Lilly joked about a particularly joyful depiction, Lloyd would tease, "Do you have a mirror? You must be kidding," his playful banter adding a lighthearted touch to their conversation.

Amidst their discussions about art, Lloyd also shared tips on places in the city where Lilly could experience the vibrant culture of Paris and have a memorable time during her short stay.

As Lilly mentioned needing to use the restroom, Lloyd couldn't resist a playful remark. "Do you want me to wait for you, or is this your way of getting rid of me?" he teased, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Lilly laughed, shaking her head. "I had a great time; I would never end the day without a proper goodbye."

"I'm glad to know that," Lloyd replied with a smile. "I'll be waiting right here for you."

While Lilly headed towards the restroom, Lloyd took a moment to glance around and saw the museum's boutique. Spotting a charming souvenir, he quickly made the purchase, knowing it would make a thoughtful gesture.

Just as Lilly emerged from the restroom, Lloyd returned, a small gift bag in hand. "Were you running away?" Lilly asked with a playful grin.

Lloyd chuckled, offering her the gift bag. "I was buying you a little souvenir," he explained, his eyes warm with sincerity. "You didn't have to... but thanks," Lilly said, accepting the gift bag from Lloyd.

"Wait till you're at the hotel to open it, okay?" Lloyd suggested.

"Okay, if you want me to," Lilly replied with a smile.

Lloyd handed her his card. "And take my card. It would be awesome to get a text from you tonight," he said, his eyes holding a genuine interest.

Lilly took the card and read the details - Lloyd's name, "security specialist," email, and phone number. They had talked about her plans to meet a friend in the city after leaving the Louvre, and Lloyd asked her to let him know she's safe at the hotel later that night.

"Want me to walk you there?" Lloyd offered.

"You don't have to; she's going to meet me here at the pyramid," Lilly explained.

"Okay. I'll go then. Have fun, gorgeous," Lloyd said with a charming smile.

"Thank you for the tour. And the souvenir. I had an amazing time, really," Lilly expressed her gratitude, feeling a tinge of reluctance as they prepared to part ways.

As Lloyd prepared to leave, he gently took Lilly's hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. Lilly's heart fluttered at the unexpected gesture, a rush of warmth spreading through her as he goes.

Feeling a bit flustered yet exhilarated, Lilly managed to compose herself and focus on retrieving her phone to text her friend. She tried to ignore the urge to go after Lloyd, reminding herself of her plans and getting the phone to call Sophie.

Unbeknownst to her, Lloyd glanced back before turning the corner, his gaze lingering on Lilly for a moment longer. A subtle hint of longing crossed his features, hinting at his desire to stay by her side.

A/N: I would looooove to know what you think so far. Please, feel free to leave comments or contact me anyway. A great week for everyone!

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fluff #original character #the grey man #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters

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doiefy · 1 year

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ballroom extravaganza (m?) // kim doyoung, jung jaehyun // preview

The house on the hill has been a mystery for some time. Some say hell, most say heaven—but for the good and wicked alike, it remains a safe haven built by a faceless group known as the Seraphim, on a foundation of secrets they're willing to take to their graves.

For 27-year-old Jung Jaehyun trying to escape a family and job he hates, the manor is an easy distraction: wealth and extravagance where no one knows his name, and endless entertainment riddled with the type of danger he craves. But for the Seraph who catches Jaehyun's eye one late night, it's nothing short of home. Although held together by a twisted love and afflicted by paranormal activity, the mysterious inhabitants of the house are Doyoung's only semblance of family.

Whether by fate or sheer coincidence, the two are brought together to reevaluate the ground they stand upon, and the horrors buried beneath. And to come to the slow realization: their worst fears have been in front of them the entire time, rooted firmly in both their mortal bodies and broken souls.

genre: angst, paranormal, horror

pairing: kim doyoung x jung jaehyun (yeah i'm fully aware that you nerds don't read mxm but did I ask? no :))

word count: 4.2k preview, ~50k full fic

warnings: heavy language, blood and violence, minor character death, smoking. full fic includes alcohol, drugs, sexual content (not explicit smut but heavy references to/implications of rather intense sexual relationships. despite this, minors pls dni for everyone's sanity), some vague indication of undiagnosed mental conditions and stigma, generally this fic is pretty heavy but I've become desensitized as fuck writing it lmfao.

expected release: july 2023 at the latest or i will literally go insane

this was very much (and obviously) inspired by dpr ian's mito 2, from the general ✨vibes✨ to the chapter titles. absolute banger of an album, do give it a listen while reading. tag list available by dm/ask.

one: seraph

The skies begin to bleach red And the stars begin to fall.

AT DUSK, Seraph’s Hill was truly a surreal sight to behold.

It held the briefest moment between evening and night frozen in time. While the rest of the world darkened to a deep indigo, the property sat isolated, still bathed in a brilliant amber glow. All beige brick and polished marble, it seemed to cradle the sun’s remains between its soaring rooftops and overgrown balconies. It stopped the celestial bodies in their orbits, rewriting time, rewriting space and natural law, all in some vain attempt to retain a few more minutes of daylight. The fountains spewed molten gold, the gardens flashed iridescent colours, and the stone statues lit their wings ablaze.

It wasn’t especially angelic or heavenly, despite its name. It was hardly coherent, if you stared at it for long enough: a strange mismatch of architecture styles, something vaguely between Mediterranean revival and neoclassical, with gothic fountains out front. The lack of coordination was all due to Leliel’s indecision at the time of its construction—so thought the estate’s various visitors. But as the original story went among the Seraphim, Azrael had murdered the original contractor, prompting the hiring of a second person to finish the job.

On this particular evening, the pearly gates swung open for a black car. Behind the wheel, Kim Doyoung looked out across the property—he had one hand steering the vehicle, and the other hanging casually out the window with a cigarette stuck between two fingers. The gates closed behind him, silently, on well-oiled hinges. Even the automated clang of the lock was muted, so as to not disturb guests; peace was just another one of Leliel’s attempts to emulate paradise.

He pulled the car up the driveway, making quick observation of the yard. There was no one in sight; no sign of his contact, and only a handful of familiar vehicles parked behind the west wing. He was to meet a man who had every ill intention against the Seraphim; and it seemed he had arrived too early.

Most would feel restless at this point, either overthinking the entire ordeal or simply irritated by the notion of waiting, yet Doyoung was strangely calm. He parked the car, snapped the key out of the ignition, and hastily pulled the visor down to check his reflection.

The goal was to look effortlessly presentable for this meeting, and not like he had been on the road for several hours. Unfortunately, the black eyes that stared back at him from the mirror harboured exhaustion. The smoke spilling from his lips made for an even harsher appearance, leeching the colour from his cheeks and adding grey streaks to his long locks of jet hair. Someone had once told him he was a visually conflicting person: all soft curves dressed in angular shapes, fair skin marked with black tattoos, a gentle voice paired with an intense gaze. He understood now, their reasons for confusion, and how his strange sense of fashion could be disadvantageous at times like these.

He combed his fingers through his hair and tied it at the base of his neck—as well as he could, anyways; it was still too short to stay in place for too long. A bit of cream to soothe the dry patches of skin on his hands, then the cheap cologne he kept in his bag, to mask the potent smell of gas and blood. The cigarette met his lips one last time before he climbed out of the car and crushed it underfoot.

“There you are.”

Doyoung turned, his back meeting the side of his car as he searched for the source of noise. Confusion took him a moment later, when he registered a woman’s voice and a soft silhouette on the wall—dusted with the golden rays of sunset, harmoniously one with the gentle autumn breeze. She stepped out of the shadows in a flash of long, silver hair and silver jewellery. With mean eyes and a deep crease in her brow, she must have been in her early, if not late, thirties.

This certainly wasn’t who Doyoung had agreed to meet with.

“I’m sorry?” his voice came out relaxed, almost a little slurred. There was a long pause before he spoke again, this time tired. “Prince Seir sent you?”

“Foolish boy,” the woman murmured; her speech was so unnecessarily dignified and irritating, but Doyoung said nothing of it. He wouldn’t bother.

Instead, he mustered a wry grimace. “You are Prince Seir, then.” He gave a curious tilt of his head. “Why waste so much of your time convincing me that you were a man?”

“You lot who frequent this hellhole don’t seem like the type to take a woman seriously,” she snorted, throwing her head back. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, catching moonlight between each individual strand. “The women here are treated like whores and servants, isn’t that right? You likely call them to your room for entertainment.”

Doyoung scoffed. “I don’t care for women, ma’am. Never have.” He paused, realizing how that must have sounded to her. “I’m not interested in women.” It didn’t seem to help; she pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You’re really something, boy.“

“And you’re a bitch who’s wasting my time, despite my trying to take her seriously. Now, are you going to give me a job? Or will we be here all night?”

The woman stared at him for another long moment, clearly enraged. Doyoung almost wondered if he was hallucinating—her figure seemed to phase in and out of existence, and her deep anger was so out of place on a set of soft features. She could’ve been a trick of the light, a product of the disturbed mind; and Doyoung could wake up stoned and piss drunk, nowhere near the current scene. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

At last, she spoke. Paired with a deliberate, impatient gesture of her hand came the words: “Come with me.”

Doyoung obliged, following her out of the lot. They walked wordlessly up a gravel road and past a gate, into a garden. It was surrounded on all sides by white walls and arched windows—the centrepiece of the property. Eden was a stunning display of wealth and beauty.

Lanterns dangled from every rooftop, flanking tall, white columns. Water spilled from a colossal arrangement of natural stone. Twin paths of interlocking stones circled the pool, splitting at a particular junction where they then lead to several smaller courtyards. Each alcove housed a statue and overflowing pot of vibrant flowers that climbed up the walls on twirling stems. Doyoung paused before a marble statue of a young maiden and dropped a single coin in her basket, as had become customary. Supposedly Israfel had started the tradition after waking up hungover at her feet.

But the silver-haired lady ahead of him didn’t seem to know this; and even if she did, she didn’t care. Seir snapped her fingers impatiently, and Doyoung hurried to catch up.

They arrived at an alcove on the opposite side of the space, and were greeted by a stone king on his throne. He stared down at them unkindly, his fist tight around his scepter. Without hesitation, the woman reached for his crown, stuck her hand within the circlet of stone, and pushed. The back wall of the alcove, covered all over with ivy and wild begonias, quivered. Then with just the slightest resistance, it swung inwards to reveal a dark tunnel.

The woman fished a flashlight out of her pocket and switched it on. “The Seraphim’s lair.” She gave the stone king a patronizing pat on the shoulder, then sneered at him in contempt, “Hidden behind a statue of a king. A little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” Doyoung muttered wryly, and followed her into the tunnel.

With a bit of effort, they replaced the wall, though Doyoung thought it was an issue of little importance; at this hour, most would be far too intoxicated to notice.

Once the wall had been pushed flush against the statue, they were swallowed by darkness. The flashlight did little against it, but Seir forged ahead with confidence, leaving Doyoung to stumble along. It was silent for the first few minutes, before classical music began to drift through the walls, adagio and mezzo piano. Snippets of conversation followed. There was a broken moan, and then a flirtatious laugh. Slow inhales. Satisfied exhales. Deep within the walls of the property, the pair bore witness to a multitude of illicit activities.

At long last, it fell quiet again. The ground began to slope downwards, steeper and steeper, until it reached a short flight of stairs. Seir paused at the bottom, feeling carefully along the wall for something. All of a sudden, a dirty yellow glow washed across the room—what looked like a storage closet, only about two arm spans across. Pinned to the furthest wall was an arrangement of photos and notes: the Seraphim, their names, images, details, entire floor plans for the estate in which they supposedly lived.

“What is this?” Doyoung asked. He was taken aback, to say the least, by the sheer amount of detail, not to mention the unknown motivations behind it all. He stepped forward to take a closer look, reaching instinctively for the photo that had slipped loose from the corkboard. The image of a striking man with black hair and eyes flashed before him, then vanished as Seir slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch,” she hissed.

“I was looking.”

“Look with your eyes. You’ll touch them soon enough.”

“These are the targets?” Doyoung raised a brow, doing a quick count of the photos. Eight. “All eight of them?”

Seir gave a dissatisfied growl. “I did most of the work, didn’t I? How difficult could it possibly be for you to kill them, when all the details are so conveniently prepared for you?”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Doyoung snapped. “And I don’t doubt my abilities. I doubt your abilities in miraculously tracking down every last detail about the eight most mysterious men in the city. Forgive me when I say I’m skeptical.”

“That isn’t your concern as a contract killer. You have no loyalties, you’re paid to do as I tell you, not to refute—”

Doyoung snorted in disbelief. “I’m not allowed to be curious? Believe me, you’re not the only person who has been after the Seraphims’ true identities. This house is a mystery, and I want to know how you solved it.”

There was a beat of empty silence. Then the woman's lips curled back in visible disgust, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. Her hatred was unmistakable. “Go dig through a shithole first, go get dirt under your fingernails, go whore yourself out to the most despicable scum of the earth, then maybe you’ll figure it out yourself. You have no idea what I’ve done just to get here.”

“Well, then I commend you—”

“Your praise won’t change my mind, boy.”

Doyoung frowned. So she was conceited enough to be condescending, but not quite enough to break at his praise. Fine. He could resort to other methods.

He turned his attention back to the Seraphim, noting their angelic names and dangerous appearances. No two looked the same—each visually unique on their own—yet when lined up one after the next, they began to blur into an indecipherable, melted concoction of facial features. Brown eyes and dark gazes. Grey hair, wild manes, red lips, stained mouths. Uriel scowled at him from behind a pair of red-tinted glasses. Matariel watched with immense judgement, as if her hair wasn’t white as snow and there wasn’t a thick layer of cream blush smoothed over her cheeks.

“You’re missing one,” Doyoung noticed after a few moments—an obvious gap between Leliel and Uriel, and a name written in big, black letters: “Azrael.”

“He’s been dealt with,” Seir replied shortly.

“Didn’t leave his photo up? X his eyes out with a red marker, maybe?”

“You talk too much,” she hissed in frustration. “And Azrael was the worst of them. A cold-blooded murderer. He killed my brother.”

Doyoung scoffed. “And you hiring me to kill eight people doesn’t make you any worse than him?”

“You have no idea what type of people they are. You have no idea what they do.”

He sighed, taking two steps back. The shadows parted for him, and the room fell incredibly still, incredibly silent—and it did so incredibly quickly. One second, the woman’s voice bounced back and forth between the walls, filling the entire space with anger and disdain. The next, she was barely a whisper. Standing about an arms’ length away from Doyoung with her back turned to him, she had become strangely small in his eyes.

“I’m well aware of the things we do, dear prince.”

The silence wavered, trembling as metal appeared between Doyoung’s fingers. There was a visible refraction against the far wall and a shrill warning as something cut through the air. Then his left hand was on the woman’s shoulder and his right was drawing metal across the soft flesh of her throat. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and her eyes bulged out of her skull.

“You killed an innocent man,” he murmured.

He let her crumble to the ground.

The waves crashed. Crimson lapped at his shoes. The weapon hung limply at his side, dripping rhythmically, shimmering with molten amber. He watched the pigment seep into the dead woman’s hair; he watched the white strands float down the red river. Unconsciously, he let a string of curses spill from his lips, then reached for his lighter. What a mess.

Azrael walked out of the room a few minutes later, picking blood off of his nails and bleeding smoke from the mouth.

“You’re making a mess, Doyoung.”

Doyoung looked down. Indeed, there was a trail of bloody footprints behind him: where he stood, they were pink marks against the glossy floor tile, and where the door opened to the hallway, they glistened bright red. Too distracted by his thoughts and the gruelling cleanup after Seir’s murder, he simply hadn’t realized.

Now Johnny peered at him impassively from behind his desk—neither understanding nor upset, simply observing and strangely quiet. Doyoung could feel similar stares from the others around the room; though the other Seraphim were more forthcoming with their opinions, much more outspoken than their leader. Yuta sat in the corner, snickering in amusement and wiping at the red lenses of his glasses. Donghyuck waved at him mockingly. Jungwoo mumbled a pointed comment beneath his breath.

Scowling to himself, Doyoung stepped out of his shoes. He approached Johnny’s desk without them, and set the evidence down for his inspection: a clear plastic bag that held every photo, every paper, every piece of writing from Prince Seir’s wall. In his annoyance and carelessness while taking them down from the cork board, he’d torn several pieces and crudely taped them back together.

“How did you kill him?” Jungwoo crooned from where he sat, fanning his freshly-painted nails with a magazine.

Doyoung responded with only a finger drawn over his throat and a quiet correction: “Her. It was a woman.”

“And how did she manage to piece this all together?” Johnny asked; the room quickly returned its attention to him. He had laid the images out on the table, and was glowering down at them—as if flimsy, blood-stained papers still had potential to do harm. Perhaps they did; the notion of intruders and spies in their midst was hardly encouragement.

“Ugh! That’s the photo on my driver’s license!” Donghyuck cut in, whining obnoxiously as he sauntered over, clearly and horrifyingly drunk. He reached for the two halves of his photo, only to have them snatched away by Johnny.

“Enough,” the elder grunted, gently pushing Donghyuck into a chair and returning his attention to Doyoung. “Well? Do you know?”

Doyoung hesitated—he knew exactly who Johnny would blame if he told him—and he resisted the urge to look at the person in question. “She found the old service tunnel in the east wing,” he started, then paused to survey the leader for his reaction: Johnny narrowed his eyes, but said nothing for the time being. “She snuck around our quarters through the walls and installed cameras in the air vents. That was enough for her to get images of our faces and hear our names.”

“And what about you? She had never seen you before tonight?”

“No. I got lucky. The vents in my room aren’t part of the network in the east wing, and even if they were, I was out of town for a few weeks. She mistook Jeno for me while I was gone.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened. “And she had him killed.”

“Yes.”

The revelation brought a deathly hush. Doyoung was right: they had gotten lucky. Had Seir hired any other person to kill them, had they been even a little less prepared, any one of them could have met the same fate as Jeno.

“Mark,” Johnny sighed at last, locking gazes with the one person who had kept his quiet this entire time. “Come here.”

Mark obediently shuffled to his feet, rising out of the shadows. The expression on his face was already wounded, like he knew what was to come; and when he stood motionless before the leader with his head lowered, he took on the form of a child awaiting chastisement. For several moments, Johnny simply looked him up and down, all prior emotion having disappeared from his eyes. For several moments, the air hung still, as they all held back from doing anything they might regret.

Then Johnny lashed out, striking Mark across the cheek with little remorse.

The sharp sound of contact rang through the room, snapping everyone back to attention. Yuta looked up, frowning. Doyoung tensed. Even Donghyuck seemed to sober, and momentarily quit his garbled whining.

They all knew: Johnny didn’t get violent often.

“John,” Yuta said in soft warning, but it went disregarded.

“This keeps happening, Mark,” Johnny said lowly, leaning forward against the desk so he could stoop a little lower and meet the younger man’s gaze. “Why is that? Did you forget what I asked you to do?”

Mark shook his head no—he remembered exactly what he had been told—but Johnny answered for him anyway. “I said we needed to tighten up our security. Any corridors we’ve stopped using, any rooms that could potentially give us away, I told you to block them off. So why haven’t you?”

There was a shaky breath. “Taeil said not to.”

“Taeil told you that?”

Mark nodded slowly. “He still needs access to plumbing. And ventilation. So I made the corridor accessible on both sides, but only to us— I-I thought he told you—”

“Fine. If Taeil said not to, fine,” Johnny snapped. “But you can do better than some hidden fucking entrance behind a statue that anyone can find.” The pause that came directly afterwards conveyed an even harsher warning. His voice dropped in volume, not low enough to be inaudible, but enough to sound especially cold. “You disappoint me, Mark. You’ve disappointed me too many times. For your sake and the rest of our sakes, I hope this is your last.”

“Johnny,” Yuta called his name again, this time sharply. “Lay off him.”

“When he learns his lesson,” Johnny replied through clenched teeth. “He could’ve gotten one of us killed. Hell, Jeno’s already—”

“You’ve put him through enough.”

Watching wordlessly from the sidelines, Doyoung expected Johnny to snap—to round on Yuta the way he had with Mark, claiming to have done no wrong. He waited for the room to dissolve into chaos, as it often did. But to his surprise, Johnny stayed quiet. He averted his gaze, clenched his jaw, and held back the words that were clearly on his tongue. “You can go, Mark,” he said at last, his expression easing from anger to discontentment when he caught sight of Yuta on his right. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

And to the rest of the Seraphim present, “You’re all dismissed. Doyoung, I’d like a word.”

Mark shuffled out of the room with his eyes still glued to his feet. The rest hauled a drunk Donghyuck along, and Yuta brought up the rear; he closed the door on his way out, leaving Doyoung and Johnny alone.

“You’ve been hard on Mark,” Doyoung said after a few moments, once the footsteps in the hall had faded away.

“I’ve been hard on everyone,” Johnny corrected him. There hung an air of exhaustion around the angel of night, and it was clear as day. His hair hung in dark tendrils around his face. His complexion had gone uneven, dark around his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping well. While he usually donned various silver accents and expensive accessories to blend into the crowd upstairs, his appearance tonight was rather plain. Doyoung had left town on business only two weeks prior; but this and the thick tension he witnessed earlier suggested things had taken a turn since then.

“Should I be glad that I wasn’t here?” Doyoung asked, noting the collection of cigarette stumps in Johnny’s ashtray—it was normally empty.

And Johnny replied shortly, “I’m sure things were worse on your end.”

He wasn’t wrong; the red stains in the backseat of Doyoung’s car and the duffle bag he’d thrown in a bonfire were enough testament.

“Well, the cleanup was rather—”

Johnny wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I don’t want details.”

Doyoung watched in mild amusement as the leader rummaged restlessly around his desk for something. “I’m worried,” Johnny said absentmindedly as he produced a new pack of cigarettes from the drawer. So the collection of black remains in the ashtray did belong to him, Doyoung concluded as he watched; it seemed Johnny had fallen prey to old habits.

“About what?”

He was left waiting for an answer while Johnny fished a lighter from his pocket and raised it to the cigarette between his lips.

“Everything,” came the delayed reply, flat and emotionless, tight with irritation. “Business has been getting worse. Guests are getting bored and leaving for good. Taeil’s gone off the rails too. He’s deaf to reason.”

“What did he do now?”

“He thinks he can solve all our issues with chemistry.” His face lit up with remembrance. “Right, don’t drink the tap water, he’s laced it with something.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again. Some sort of sedative. He thinks it’ll keep people soft and pliant and dumb enough to consider extending their stay. It doesn’t matter, because it won’t work. Now all of this—” Johnny spread his hands for emphasis. “—these people sneaking around the house and trying to unearth secrets that don’t exist? Strangers putting bounties on our heads when we’ve done nothing wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re completely innocent.”

Johnny gave a bark of emotionless laughter; he couldn’t deny it. The drugs and illicit substances, Doyoung’s side hustle in contract killing, Taeil’s bloodied lab in the basement, countless other things that he had lost track of. All for the sake of found family, for the sake of the most important people in his life and for the sake of their collective sanity, he would allow it.

“Tell me everything,” he said at last, resting his smoke on the rim of the bronze tray.

“Everything about…?”

“This Prince Seir you met.”

So Doyoung told him. He told him about the strange trails that had been left in dark corners of the internet and old clubs of a nearby town. They were subtle messages, sent by an individual who needed a “job” fulfilled on Seraph’s Hill. He told him about Taeyong, who had noticed a strange alias checking in and out of the estate every now and then, the same one Doyoung had seen online. Then about Jungwoo, who passed Doyoung’s name through groups and groups of distant associates, until it reached Seir herself—at which point she contacted him by email.

Johnny never interrupted nor spoke. He maintained the same posture in his chair and took occasional drags from his cigarette, never moving more than was required. Though he was quiet, he was hardly a good listener: unresponsive, horribly vague when he did react, always maintaining an overwhelming presence that loomed uncomfortably over Doyoung as he spoke. He felt as if he was talking to a brick wall, and at the same time, like the brick wall was staring into the very depths of his soul, passing judgement on every word that came out of his mouth.

“You’re on the internet often, then, if that’s how you stumbled across her.” Johnny peered at him with intrigue when he finished. “Forums dedicated to us, online discussion about us… Tell me, what do people say about Seraph’s Hill?”

“A lot of bullshit.”

Johnny was cross. “What do they say?”

“That we’re a house of mysteries. That it’s strange, how people can come in sober and ready to unearth our secrets, but always wake up wasted the next morning.”

“Doing drugs does that to you.”

“The water tastes weird. The statues in the back gardens are creepy. The whiskey is fucking overpriced, and the blonde bartender is sexy. That kind of bullshit.”

Johnny said nothing. For the next minute and a half, they listened to the gurgling of water in the fountains and the classical music from the ballroom. The hands of the clock behind them moved along without noise, but Doyoung heard ticking in his head.

“Thank you,” Johnny said at last, and put his cigarette to the dusty metal of the ashtray. A steady stream of smoke escaped his fingers, fading to nothing. “You can go now.”

Doyoung got up from where he sat, only to see his leader’s expression shift once more—almost like he’d remembered something important. There was a momentary pause, and he seemed softer.

“It’s good to have you back, Doyoung.”

He nodded in agreement; it was good to be home.

On the other side of the property, moonlight fell between the iron gates of hell—illuminating the crimson streaks on the prince’s face, and guiding the two figures who escorted her. Her silver hair made glimmering lines on the concrete, and her broken body scraped haphazardly along the ground. There was no need to be delicate, so long as her innards remained intact for what was to come next. She passed into the underground, eyes wide and unmoving, frozen in their sockets.

And a cloud passed over the moon.

59 notes · View notes

wouldntyou-liketoknow · 2 months

Note

Hi, do you still take x reader requests?? If you do, I was wanting a Phantom x reader/Y/N (she/they pronouns) and maybe Y/N got kidnapped by a rival being and he shows up rescue Y/N? Possessive Phantom is one of my favorite ideas, and he’s barely, just barely by a thread holding back from going full on eldritch being on the kidnappers + the rival. Maybe Phantom comforts Y/N afterwards too?

Call me Cos :D (for anon, I’ll be space anon if that isn’t taken)

Well, I do so love my body horror, so I'll admit that I kinda went further than that "just barely by a thread" part. . .

(This is based on a set of headcanons I posted a while ago; go here if you'd like to see them.)

Sorry this took so long, but it's finally finished! I hope you enjoy it!

(Trigger Warnings: violence, body horror, eyes, teeth, mentions of snakes, mentions of insects, implied kidnapping, implied illegal business, talk of death/dying, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

___

“I’m really not sure what you’re hoping to gain from this,” you announced, resting your cheek against one hand as you looked out at the world through the bars of the cage.

Your captor—an admittedly stunning woman with a halo of crystals orbiting around the golden points of a crown protruding from her silvery hair—hummed thoughtfully.

“Not too much, if I’m being honest,” she answered with a dismissive shrug.

You quirked a brow, straightening your back a little. It was difficult to look her in the eyes; they glowed with undeniable power. The most piercing, dangerous, otherworldly shade of blue you’d ever seen.

Your brain was begging you to focus on something else. Anything else, really. The room outside your cage was extravagant, boasting marble floors and looming pillars and filigree carvings on the walls. Everything was inlaid with blue gemstones in some way. Even your cage, nestled in the corner, was polished and decorated to perfection.

But you still made a valiant attempt to keep eye-contact. You couldn’t just let her think you were some shrinking violet.

“Then why did you bring me here in the first place? Why did you bother to just wait in my mirror until I finally got home?”

The Multiverse Monarch took a few steps closer to further scrutinize you.

“Why does anyone do anything?” She responded. “Why do you mortals insist on making sacrifices, traveling to places you’ve never seen before, crossing bridges that don’t even exist yet?”

“Because we’ll eventually get paid for it,” you replied. “Or, we all hope to, at least.”

Monarch blinked, a small snicker forcing its way through her teeth. She quickly shook her head, engaging in the rolling-your-eyes-with-your-whole-body gesture.

“Because it’s there,” she stated in the most matter-of-fact tone you’d ever heard. “Because it’s just something to do. Something to temporarily keep your little lives from continuing to be mundane as fuck.”

You hummed at the explanation. There was definitely some truth to it, but you thrived on sarcasm. You couldn’t help that; it was a survival mechanism. “I feel like doing any kind of business with Phantom already pretty far from ‘mundane as fuck.’ I almost ended up being one of his contractors when we first met, and now look where I stand with him.”

Monarch tilted her head to the side, folding her arms across her chest. “That kind of thing happens with a lot of dealmakers and potential clients. Much more frequently than you’d think. Don’t feel special.”

“I never said I felt special,” you argued. And now it was your turn to smirk, since it was so obvious that you and Monarch were now thinking the same thing.

Phantom was many, many things. And one of them was, so simply, shady as they came. However, he could also be honest when the mood suited him.

When the two of you had first met, he’d seen you as just another soul with enough potential and enough need of supernatural assistance to be considered for his collection. You, on the other hand, had long-since honed your instincts to sense ulterior motives. And at that point in time, you’d been, for lack of a better word, tired.

Before that point, you’d been stepped on and laughed at and criticized so. Many. Damn. Times.

You’d gotten tired of that.

You’d gotten tired of trying so hard and putting out so much and only getting a few breadcrumbs here and there to show for it.

You’d gotten so tired that it was miracle you’d even bothered to read Phantom’s contract in its entirety.

And even with the potential consequences literally written down right in front of you. . .you’d been tired enough to not care.

So what if your soul became the property of an eldritch abomination?

At least you’d get some time to finally enjoy a few things before that.

You’re not sure what Phantom saw in your tiredness. Hell, you’d flat-out asked him before, and he hadn’t been able to give you a clear answer himself. But that was just it: he’d seen something that he wanted to keep. Not just for his collection, but. . .

Well, Phantom had been quiet for most of that particular meeting, mainly relying on his elevator pitch for small talk as you read through the requirements and expectations. When you took hold on his feather quill, he went silent. He’d stayed silent as you hesitated. You’d felt his eyes boring holes through your skull. And just as you were about to sign your name on the dotted line, Phantom had yanked the contract away, insisting that he needed to make a few updates to it.

The rest, as they say, is history.

“Plus,” you added. “I’ve heard all about the spats the two of you have gotten into. And when you combine those with the business angle of things. . .I mean, I’m not sure what to call it, but it’s still not mundane at all. Isn’t that enough?”

“You’ve only heard about those spats from his perspective,” Monarch snarked. Insanity glinted in her eyes. A buzzing, humming, keening music suddenly stabbed its way into your ears, and you finally had to look away from her, ducking your head and kneading at your temples.

More footsteps clicked closer, and a cold hand was suddenly grasping your chin, slowly forcing you to look back up.

Her eyes. . .they looked even less human than before. Now they were compound, seeming to shudder in their sockets as that frightening blue light glowed brighter and brighter.

A pair of long, sinuous antennae now protruded from her forehead, covered in a network of crystalline veins. They reached down to lightly tap against your scalp, making that unearthly music reverberate in your skull.

“And enough is ภєשєг єภ๏ยﻮђ,” she concluded, allowing you to catch a glimpse of something shuffling about between the rows of her teeth. “ภєשєг ђคร ๒єєภ, ภєשєг ฬเɭɭ ๒є.”

“MONARCH!” A familiar voice suddenly shouted from somewhere outside of the throne room. . .or, it had to be outside the throne room, at least. But then, that voice shouldn’t have been echoing and bouncing around the corners with such violence. “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Not if it was a human’s voice, that is.

And that’s why you immediately recognized it. You’d been hearing it almost every day for a good couple years now, after all.

You’d been waiting to hear it today.

“I know you know,” Monarch called back, only slightly raising her own tone as a smirk played at her lips. She released her grip on your chin, strolling away from your cage to settle down onto her throne. “That’s what makes this kind of stuff so fun.”

What sounded like a Category 5 earthquake slammed against the towering side-by-side doors that waited across the room. The thunderous sound was followed by a cacophony of screeching, like razor-sharp claws being dragged across ornate wood and stone.

“Well, if we’re going with that logic,” Phantom seethed from wherever he was, “then you also know that if you don’t bring [Y/N] out here right now, I swear I’ll 𐍂𐍊Ƥ 𐍈𐍁𐨠 𐌴𐌰ζ𐌷 𐍈𐍆 𐌸𐍈𐍁𐍂 𐐎𐍊𐍀𐌾Ⲋ 𐍈𐍀𐌴-𐌱𐌸-𐍈𐍀𐌴!"

Phantom’s pitch seemed to warp like metal, now twisting and rattling in the air. It gave the impression of a hissing, growling, churning well; like he was speaking through multiple people—or multiple monsters, really—at once.

“And I’ll just grow replacements for them,” Monarch replied, examining her fingernails, looking extremely cool and collected someone who was facing promises of dismemberment. “If you’re gonna threaten me, then maybe aim for something that’ll be more difficult to recover.”

Another shockwave pounded against the doors from the other side. The entire room shook; you could feel the floor vibrating through your shoes for a long moment.

Phantom’s voice hummed, shifting from ferocious anger to vicious mockery in a heartbeat. “Like those clones of yours?”

You craned your neck to glance at Monarch through the cage’s bars. You had to bite down a chuckle at the way she stiffened; if there was one thing you and Phantom had bonded over, it was the art of schadenfreude.

“My clones are scattered across the multiverse,” Monarch contended. “It would take you at least six-thousand-nine-hundred years for you to find all of them!”

She let out an icy snicker that made your spine want to crawl its way out of your back and go somewhere a little more quiet. “ץ๏ย’гє คɭгєค๔ץ ђคɭŦ-รєภเɭє; รђ๏ยɭ๔ภ’Շ ๒є Շ๏๏ ɭ๏ภﻮ ๒єŦ๏гє ץ๏ย’гє คɭɭ Շђє ฬคץ Շђєгє.”

“Oh, now you’re in for it,” you murmured. Though the speculation was mainly to yourself, you had no doubts that your captor could hear you.

An animalistic roar echoed through the walls, and the doors shook in their frame yet again. This time, the boom was accentuated by the undeniable call of something shattering.

“𐍊 ꡕ𐌰𐌸 𐌱𐌴 𐐎𐌴ࠋࠋ-𐍈ⱱ𐌴𐍂 𐌰 𐨠𐌷𐍈𐍁Ⲋ𐌰𐍀Ɗ, 𐌱𐍁𐨠 𐍊 𐌰ꡕ 𐍀𐍈𐨠 Ⲋ𐌴𐍀𐍊ࠋ𐌴!”

The latest tremor lingered, not just fading away like the last two strikes. You subconsciously held onto the bars in a white-knuckled grip.

Phantom knew you were here; he wouldn’t make Monarch’s entire palace collapse if it meant the risk of you getting crushed in the rubble. Despite your trust in him, your instincts were on still fire now, screaming that the floor was absolutely going to cave in beneath you at any second.

Phantom spoke up again, dripping with surreal danger. “What about all the souls you’ve gathered? What if I set my sights on those, Moth? They aren’t exactly easy to replace. We both now that better than anyone.”

Monarch stood on her throne, her movement too fluid and quick to be natural. The entire lower-half of her face seemed to have eroded away. Smooth, human-esquse flesh had been replaced by the mandibles you’d seen earlier. They shuddered and snapped, making an odd, almost musical chittering noise.

And right above them. . .her eyes. . .

Her eyes had grown disturbingly wide, rolling around in her head as each of the hexagonal units adorning either of them reflected everything around her. You could see yourself in the corner of them. She was still watching you as much as she was watching Phantom through the doors.

Her antennae now almost resembled crooked swords, twitching so violently that it was a wonder how her crown stayed in place.

The lights of the room flickered, growing dark and insidious. The temperature automatically dropped through several degrees; goosebumps prickled over every square-inch of your skin. Your senses were so shocked by the change that you almost didn’t notice the awful chorus of stretching and tearing that coiled through the room.

By the time you finally looked back at Monarch, you choked on air.

Her fair skin and silvery locks had just finished practically ripping themselves apart to make way for. . .not bones, perse. An exoskeleton: a shining, jagged, horrific carapace that looked like it was molded from liquefied diamonds.

The woman was gone.

An enormous insectoid monster stood in her place.

It was like nothing you’d ever seen before (which was saying something, since you’d seen quite a lot thanks to your relationship with Phantom).

As though you were looking at the impossible result of a mythical threesome between a primordial praying mantis, spider, and butterfly.

Far, far too many long, spindly, dagger-like legs and clutching, serrated claws to count.

At the center of them all was a glowing abdomen that trembled with every breath Monarch took. It ended in a glittering stinger that would make even the world’s sharpest harpoon look like a toothpick.

Her mandibles were now large enough to easily decapitate you with one bite. Each time they moved, an otherworldly chittering rhythm leaked out.

Four billowing wings as vast and blue as a trench in the ocean, covered in organized lines of piercing eye-spots.

No. . .those weren’t spots.

Honest-to-fucking-goodness eyes.

And they were still keeping some focus on you.

Monarch snarled. Against all odds, her voice remained soft. When it mixed with that chittering, however, the sound felt like needles. “ץ๏ย ๔๏ภ'Շ ђคשє Շђє ภєгשє.”

And with that, the doors finally buckled, flying off their hinges to embed themselves in the walls.

A haze of heat and terrifying energy swept into the room, followed an instant later by another abomination.

Despite the anxiety prying at your ribs, you still managed to smile. You even felt butterflies in your stomach.

Phantom was here. He’d come to take you back home.

At first, he seemed to be a sentient, slow-moving tornado of smoke. With your personal experience, you knew that he was simply wearing that fog sort of like a cloak.

As more and more of his true form rippled into the throne room, as all the smoke sliced around him, you could easily see the shapes of bones that all fit together to form a colossal serpentine skeleton.

A vast array of organs writhed further inside the seemingly endless ribcage, glowing similarly to the embers at the bottom of a firepit.

That glow had absolutely nothing on Phantom’s eyes, however.

Then again, you weren’t sure if you could really call them eyes.

The sockets in his triangle-shaped head emitted spiraling plumes of fire. Beneath them, a maw filled to the brim with serrated fangs; the largest ones dripped with luminescent venom that sizzled as it hit the marble floors. A long, forked black tongue flicked in and out between all those teeth like a party favor.

So, in short: the richest, purest form of nightmare fuel for anyone with ophidiophobia. . .well, almost. Two arms (only two at the moment. You knew more could be summoned and then retracted at a second’s notice) jutted out from his sides, each ending in a clutch of five talons.

And there was something peculiar pinched between two of those talons.

“𐨠𐍂𐌸 ꡕ𐌴,” Phantom hissed as he raised his arm to show it off.

It was spherical in shape, almost looking like one of those pretty glass marbles that always seemed to be in antique stores for whatever reason.

But you knew better.

The longer you started at it, the more it seemed to bounce—no, to pulse in the air. It gleamed with a soft, warm, colorful light. A living light.

That was someone’s soul.

You’d seen Phantom handling souls before, but those all had been his (technically) legal property, having been signed over to him by his clients.

Judging by the way Monarch screamed as Phantom tossed it for his other talons to catch, this one had to be part of her collection.

“𐍊𐨠'Ⲋ 𐍂𐌴𐌰ࠋࠋ𐌸 Ⲋ𐍊ꡕƤࠋ𐌴, ꡕ𐍈𐨠𐌷. . .” Phantom put a little more pressure on the soul in his grasp. It responded via turning a darker shade, almost partially deflating like a smoker’s lung. “𐌸𐍈𐍁 𐨠𐌰𐌺𐌴 Ⲋ𐍈ꡕ𐌴𐨠𐌷𐍊𐍀𐌾 𐍆𐍂𐍈ꡕ ꡕ𐌴, 𐌰𐍀Ɗ 𐍊 𐨠𐌰𐌺𐌴 Ⲋ𐍈ꡕ𐌴𐨠𐌷𐍊𐍀𐌾 𐍆𐍂𐍈ꡕ 𐌸𐍈𐍁.”

Monarch bristled. For a brief, horrible moment, you worried that she would reach over and clamp the cage to crush it around you like a soda can.

You’d heard stories of her power. As far as you knew, she was one of few beings strong enough to have a stalemate with Phantom.

The two of them stared at one another for what felt like hours.

“คภ๔ ץ๏ย คɭฬคץร รคץ ՇђคՇ ๏Շђєг קє๏קɭє ςคภ'Շ Շคкє ן๏кєร,” Monarch accused, clicking her mandibles. She then let out an acidic sigh. “Ŧเภє. ﻮเשє ՇђคՇ ๏ภє ๒คςк Շ๏ ๓є, คภ๔ ץ๏ย ςคภ ђคשє ץ๏ยгร.”

“𐍀𐍈,” Phantom snapped. “𐌸𐍈𐍁 𐌾𐍊ⱱ𐌴 𐨠𐌷𐌴ꡕ 𐌱𐌰ζ𐌺 𐍆𐍊𐍂Ⲋ𐨠.”

Monarch hissed, leaning back, tensing up.

“How about you both move at the same time?” You called out, having finally reclaimed your voice.

Both of the crimes against nature swiveled their heads in your direction. One part of you instinctually wanted to curl into a ball. The other part stood firm.

No matter how terrifying Phantom was, no matter how much of a psychological hurdle it always was for you to see him in his true form like this. . .you still knew that he cared about you. He just wanted to keep you safe, to have you stay by his side. Once you were with him again, everything would be fine.

He and Monarch side-eyed each other.

One of Monarch’s legs reached over, clutching at the door to the cage. Simultaneously, Phantom pushed his talons, the soul still in his grasp, toward his rival.

Then, less than a second later, they moved in tandem.

As Phantom passed that unfortunate soul back to its owner, there was suddenly a gaping hole in the middle of the bars. You sprinted out and across the throne room, just barely managing to not trip over that long blue carpet.

Phantom met you halfway, one clutch of talons hovering behind you, gently pushing you to stand closer to him. He lowered his skull, angling it to keep his fangs away as you leaned against him, stretching your arms in an awkward attempt to hug him.

“Շђєгє, รєє? ՇђคՇ ฬครภ'Շ ร๏ ђคг๔,” Monarch piped back up. You didn’t look at her, but you could guess at the snide grin slowly-but-surely spreading over her mandibles. Was this part of the adrenaline rush, or. . .whatever she’d been after? “คɭฬคץร ฬเՇђ Շђє ๔гค๓คՇเςร.”

“𐌸𐍈𐍁'𐍂𐌴 𐍈𐍀𐌴 𐨠𐍈 𐍆𐍁ζ𐌺𐍊𐍀𐌾 𐨠𐌰ࠋ𐌺,” Phantom growled, holding you closer. You could see his horrific excuse for a heart thrashing and shifting through various colors unlike any you’d ever seen on Earth. “𐍊'ꡕ 𐌾𐍈𐍀𐍀𐌰 𐍂𐌴ꡕ𐌴ꡕ𐌱𐌴𐍂 𐨠𐌷𐍊Ⲋ 𐐎𐌷𐌴𐍀 𐍈𐍁𐍂 𐍀𐌴𑀌𐨠 ꡕ𐌴𐌴𐨠𐍊𐍀𐌾 ζ𐍈ꡕ𐌴Ⲋ 𐌰𐍂𐍈𐍁𐍀Ɗ. ʝ𐍁Ⲋ𐨠 𐨠𐌷𐍊𐍀𐌺 𐌰𐌱𐍈𐍁𐨠 𐨠𐌷𐌰𐨠."

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painterscontractorsindelhi · 1 year

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dazzlemarble · 12 days

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A-Class Marble epitomizes luxury and sophistication in marble manufacturing. The company specializes in premium-quality marble sourced from the finest quarries in India and around the world. A-Class Marble's exquisite collection includes rare and unique varieties that are prized for their beauty and durability. With a focus on innovation and craftsmanship, A-Class Marble continues to set new standards of excellence in the industry.

5. Kishangarh Marble

Kishangarh Marble is situated in the heart of Rajasthan, India's marble hub. The company boasts an extensive inventory of marble blocks, slabs, and tiles, catering to both domestic and international markets. Kishangarh Marble's commitment to quality control and customer satisfaction has earned them a stellar reputation among architects, contractors, and homeowners.

Embracing Tradition, Embracing the Future

As India's marble manufacturers continue to uphold centuries-old traditions of craftsmanship, they also embrace innovation and modern technologies to meet the evolving needs of the industry. From sustainable quarrying practices to advanced processing techniques, these manufacturers are committed to preserving the beauty of nature's finest while ensuring a sustainable future for generations to come.

In conclusion, the leading Marble manufacturers in India, such as Bhandari Marble Group, RK Marble, Classic Marble Company, A-Class Marble, and Kishangarh Marble, exemplify the perfect blend of tradition and innovation. Through their dedication to quality and craftsmanship, they continue to shape the landscape of India's marble industry and leave an indelible mark on the world stage.

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graniteheroes13 · 25 days

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Stone Restoration Contractors in Schiller Park

Restore the beauty and elegance of your stone surfaces with professional stone restoration contractors from Granite Heroes in Schiller Park. Our skilled technicians specialize in repairing chips, scratches, and cracks, as well as honing, polishing, and sealing stone materials to enhance their durability and appearance. Whether you have marble, granite, limestone, or travertine, we have the expertise and tools to restore it to its original glory.

#stone restoration contractors schiller park

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gangwalstonex · 1 month

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Creating a luxury Kitchen with Moca Cream Limestone Marble

Introduction to MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops

One of the benefits of MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops is their natural appeal, which is unmatched by other countertop materials. The inherent patterns and colors of the stone create a unique and inviting atmosphere in any kitchen or bathroom. Additionally, limestone is a durable material that can withstand wear and tear in high-traffic areas such as kitchens and hallways. The rich and beautiful appearance of limestone is why many people love it, and it is a perfect choice for creating a luxurious and enduring atmosphere.

MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops are ideal for luxury kitchens for several reasons. Firstly, their natural appeal and unique patterns and colors create a timeless and elegant look that is unmatched by other countertop materials. Secondly, limestone is a highly versatile material that can be used for a range of applications, including countertops, wall panels, and floor tiles. Finally, the durability and dependability of limestone make it a practical choice for use in high-traffic areas such as kitchens. Overall, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops are an excellent choice for creating a luxurious and inviting atmosphere in any kitchen.

Designing a Luxury Kitchen with MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops

Choosing the right color and finish for your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops is an important decision. MOCA Cream Limestone is a beautiful natural stone that comes in a range of colors and finishes. Consider the existing color scheme in your kitchen and choose a color that complements or contrasts with it. MOCA Cream Limestone is a versatile stone that can work well with a variety of colors and styles. Whether you prefer a honed or polished finish, MOCA Cream Limestone can provide a luxurious and elegant look to your kitchen.

Selecting the best edge profile for your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops is also an important decision. The edge profile can have a significant impact on the overall look and feel of your kitchen. Consider the style of your kitchen and choose an edge profile that complements it. A square profile is a popular choice for modern kitchens, while a bullnose profile can provide a more traditional look. MOCA Cream Limestone can be cut and shaped into various edge profiles, allowing you to create a custom look that suits your personal style and preferences.

Preparing for Installation

Preparing your cabinets for installation is another crucial step in creating a luxury kitchen with MOCA Cream Limestone countertops. The cabinets should be leveled and secured to the wall to ensure that the countertops are stable and secure. Any existing countertops should be removed before installing the new MOCA Cream Limestone countertops. If your cabinets need any repairs or modifications, such as replacing damaged shelves or adding support brackets, it is best to do so before the countertop installation.

Choosing the right contractor for the job is essential to ensure that your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops are installed correctly. Look for contractors with experience in installing natural stone countertops and who have a high level of craftsmanship. Check their previous work experience and ask for references from past clients. It is also essential to ensure that the contractor has the necessary licenses and insurance to protect both them and you during the installation process. By choosing the right contractor, you can ensure that your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops are installed correctly and will last for years to come.

Installing MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops

Cutting and fitting the MOCA Cream Limestone countertops is the next step in the installation process. This process requires precise measurements and cutting to ensure a perfect fit. It is recommended to hire a professional installer to handle this step to ensure accuracy and avoid any mistakes that could result in damage to the countertops. Once the countertops are cut and fitted, they can be secured in place with adhesive and screws.

After the MOCA Cream Limestone countertops are installed, it is important to apply a sealant to protect the surface from stains and damage. The sealant should be applied in thin, even coats and allowed to dry completely before using the countertops. Additionally, finishing touches, such as adding a backsplash or edging, can further enhance the luxury look of the kitchen. With proper installation and maintenance, MOCA Cream Limestone countertops can provide a long-lasting and beautiful addition to any kitchen.

Maintaining MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops

To avoid common stains and damage, it’s important to take precautions when using your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops. Avoid placing hot pans or pots directly on the surface, as the heat can cause discoloration or even cracking. Additionally, acidic substances such as lemon juice or vinegar can etch the surface of the limestone, leaving permanent marks. Wipe up spills immediately to prevent them from seeping into the pores of the stone and causing stains. Using coasters, placemats, and cutting boards can also help protect your countertops from scratches and other damage.

Resealing your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops periodically is another essential part of their maintenance. Limestone is a porous material, which means it can absorb liquids and stains if left unsealed. Resealing your countertops every one to two years can help prevent this and keep them looking their best. To determine if your countertops need to be resealed, perform a simple water test. Sprinkle a few drops of water on the surface of the countertop and observe how quickly it is absorbed. If the water is absorbed quickly, it’s time to reseal your countertops. By following these maintenance tips, you can ensure that your MOCA Cream Limestone countertops continue to be a luxurious and beautiful addition to your kitchen for years to come.

Benefits of MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops for Cooking

In addition to their durability, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops also offer a non-porous surface for food safety. Practicing safe food preparation and having the appropriate kitchen countertops can help prevent foodborne illness. Unlike other materials such as granite, limestone is non-porous, meaning that it does not absorb liquids or bacteria that can cause contamination. This makes MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops an ideal choice for food preparation areas, ensuring that your kitchen remains a safe and hygienic environment for cooking.

Finally, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops are easy to clean and maintain, making them a practical choice for busy kitchens. Natural stones are very easy to maintain, requiring only mild soap and water for cleaning. Unlike other materials such as marble or travertine, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops do not require a lot of upkeep and maintenance like sealing, polishing, and cleaning. This low-maintenance aspect of MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops is especially beneficial for those who want a luxury kitchen without the hassle of constant upkeep and maintenance. With these countertops, you can have a stunning and practical kitchen that is easy to maintain and keep looking its best for years to come.

Incorporating MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops into Your Kitchen Design

Coordinating with your cabinet and appliance colors is another important aspect to consider when incorporating MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops into your kitchen design. Cream-colored cabinets can provide a luxurious and elegant look, while darker wood tones can add a touch of sophistication. When it comes to appliances, black or stainless steel can provide a sleek and modern look, while white appliances can create a classic and timeless feel. It’s important to choose cabinet and appliance colors that complement the warm and natural tones of the MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops, creating a cohesive and visually appealing design.

Adding decorative accents to highlight your MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops can provide the finishing touch to your luxury kitchen design. Decorative accents such as pendant lighting, decorative hardware, and unique kitchen accessories can add personality and style to your kitchen. Additionally, adding plants or fresh flowers can bring a touch of nature and color to your kitchen, complementing the warm and natural tones of the MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops. By incorporating these decorative accents, you can create a truly unique and personalized luxury kitchen design.

Conclusion: Achieving Your Dream Luxury Kitchen with MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops

If you’re looking to create a luxury kitchen, MOCA Cream Limestone countertops are an excellent choice. Not only do they offer a natural and unique appeal, but they also bring a range of benefits to your home, including durability and longevity. The versatility of design options allows you to personalize your kitchen according to your style preferences, whether you prefer a sleek modern look or a more traditional aesthetic. With MOCA Cream Limestone countertops, you can achieve a luxurious and timeless look that will last for years to come.

To achieve your dream luxury kitchen with MOCA Cream Limestone countertops, it’s essential to plan your project carefully and pay attention to the details. Choose high-quality materials and accessories that will enhance the functionality and beauty of your space. Consider the lighting and how it can highlight the natural beauty of the stone. And don’t forget to choose a design that will stand the test of time, whether you opt for a light marble look or a dark granite or soapstone. By following these recommendations, you can create a luxury kitchen that is both functional and beautiful, and that will bring joy and satisfaction for years to come.

In conclusion, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops are an excellent choice for creating a luxury kitchen. With their unique blend of durability, heat resistance, and easy maintenance, these countertops are ideal for busy kitchens where cooking and entertaining are a priority. When designing your luxury kitchen with MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops, it’s important to consider factors such as layout, color, and edge profile to achieve the desired look and functionality. Proper preparation and installation are also crucial to ensuring a successful project. With proper care and maintenance, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops will remain a beautiful and functional addition to your kitchen for years to come. Whether you’re looking to renovate your existing kitchen or build a new one from scratch, MOCA Cream Limestone Countertops are an excellent choice that will enhance the beauty and value of your home.

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