#Void Property Security

[0viraptoraskblog]

Hello, I hope you're doing well, I love the things you write!

This is probably going to be a long one. It turns out that ever since I discovered btd 1 and 2, and tpof, I've always been really curious about Ren's character. I imagine that just like me, people must have been surprised to see how he had become in Tpof. I'm SO excited for Ykmet! I know this game is mainly focused on Strade, because of course his name is there! XD

I love him too, but I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the parts with Ren. I know about the changes that Gato has prepared for him, and I hope they're positive, I trust what she's doing.

Anyway! I think I've gone on too long. The thing is, since I finished Tpof, I haven't found many people who give analysis to the older Ren character. I don't know if I'm looking in the wrong place, but I always thought tumblr was the best place to look, because the fandom seems more active here.

There were many things I didn't understand, because I'm terrible at analyzing, I try, but I constantly feel like I end up overthinking, my head always tries to provide several explanations like A, B, C, D, and it goes beyond that.

From your perspective, opinions and thoughts on the DLC, what do you think people often miss about Fox? Something you noticed that some people probably didn't. I would particularly like to know about your interpretation of the ending. Yes, I know it's straightforward and clear, he saves us. But I've always wondered about his motivations. I think that conversation we have with him in the bunker affects him, but in what way? What are his thoughts? And what are his thoughts about us after that?

I constantly noticed that he was also always adjusting his posture in his streams, and in the third one when he bites and then licks the wound on Mc's neck, then he looks almost embarrassed. Was it just because he got too excited or was it something else that i didn't catch because im too stupid? lmao

I'll end the ask here or it will be too long, I apologize for that, and if I didn't manage to express my questions very well

(although, if you answer this, I hope it's okay if I ask a bit more)

I think Fox has built this new version of himself based on being in control. He used to be a captive, always weary of Strade, and then trying and failing to be in control of MC in btd2 (who either died or escaped, given that this is Ren’s darker path). After that, he wanted to be in control for once.

He runs the entire auction system, he has his own show, and he’s incredibly good at what he does. That security not only makes him confident in what he does now, but it makes him finally like who he is (at least, he thinks.)

Young Ren was struggling a lot with his image and self worth, in terms of being treated as a pet/property, being abused, and then convincing himself that it was all because Strade loved him. Those years affected his mind so much. When his plan with MC went wrong after the second game, I think he realized that he should have been following Strade’s advice more. He fell back into that mental state of idolizing Strade and his way of doing things, his way of thinking. Why would Ren try anything else? Of course Strade was right. (This is the wrong idea, sadly, but it must have been the conclusion he turned to.)

It started as him trying to follow the footsteps of the only person he’d ever had to look up to— Strade. That’s why he started doing shows, because Strade was successful and Ren wanted to follow his example. He was also swayed a lot by emotion, the loneliness he felt and the emptiness he has after Strade’s death. Continuing his legacy was a way to fill the void, at least a little. He also needed money sooner or later.

Over time, he started to make it his own. He started to think less about Strade and more about himself. By the time we see Fox, he’s pretty much moved on from Strade. He does it as his own show, in his own name, his own life.

He is a great showman, naturally. That’s where the posture, gestures, and lively way he talks comes from. He knows how to entertain an audience, and he’s spent years perfecting that skill. He does enjoy the shows, to an extent. But remember, when MC asks him why he does this? Because he’s good at it.

He does like the feeling of being in the spotlight, and entertaining an audience— but his answer wasn’t because it’s his passion, not because he likes being in power, but because he’s good at it.

He’s accustomed to it.

The thing I think people miss is that Fox still has that unsure feeling inside. Deep down, he likes you. And he wants to keep you. But the show must go on! He likes who he is now, and he has to perform for chat. Like I said, it started out as ‘that’s what Strade would have done’ when he was younger, but now he’s moved on from Strade and just become so conditioned to it that he doesn’t know how to break the cycle. It’s how the show goes: he tortures someone, does what chat wants, gets paid, and they die in the end. That’s how it’s always gone. But what about when he grows attached?

An Easter egg to prove my point:

Middle picture, third row down He literally hurts himself for letting you go, because he’s realized he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to deny chat. (this happens when you make all the wrong choices when he visits you in the bunker before show 3. Making all the right choices will result in the survival ending.)

That’s why the survival ending is so critical to his character— he did something for himself. Because he wanted to. It’s a sign of him breaking free, and realizing that he can be in charge.

MC’s dialogue choices are important there too. When he tells MC their fate is up to chat, and you say “I thought you were in charge?” It makes him stop and think. You set things in motion for him. That leads you to the ending where he saves you.

As for when he licks the blood on your neck, I think he got a little flustered because he let his animal side show/let his composure fall a bit. A big part of these shows is the power imbalance between him and the victim, and he always puts on a front of being more put together than they are.

But yeah, that’s my mini analysis on Fox. There’s so much more to his character, but that’s for a later date ;) You’re always welcome to ask more!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Girl Talk - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi and Sevika: Unlikely Bffs

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"Transcending survival," it sounds like a direct quote, "and achieving sovereignty."

Vi lets off a low whistle.

"Sovereignty," she repeats. "That's a big fucking word."

"Yeah, well."

The sigh rides a languid plume of smoke. Satisfaction, Vi thinks. But also fatigue. Whatever toll Silco's absence exerted seems nothing compared to the one his return's exacted.

Strangely, Vi recognizes the feeling. With her romance with Caitlyn rekindled, it is impossible to feel contentment: apart or in proximity.  Closeness only opens the floodgates for more want. More worries. More risks to lose what's been regained.

Then she thinks of the kiss she and Caitlyn shared inside the café: warm, safe, solid. Of the longing that preceded it; and the closure that followed. Since then, the bedrock certainty has stayed beneath Vi's feet even as reality spins its dizzying wheels.

Yet, here is a fellow Fissurewoman stuck in a quagmire. Loyal to her last breath, and lonelier for it.

"And that's all there is?" Vi takes the plunge. "What about… y’know? You and him?"

Dark eyes lock on Vi. "Where're you going with this?"

"Nowhere. Just... seems like there's been a falling out."

"And if there was?"

"I'd say 'tough shit,' and move on. Not my circus; not my monkeys. Unless they're living right next door." Vi gestures: at the ebbing signs of festivity around the dockside. At the promise Progress Day offers, for Piltover and Zaun both. "You've kept me in the loop for a year. The least I can do is lend an ear if something's up."

"Thought we weren't doing debts."

"This isn't about debts."

"Then what's it about?"

"Honesty. Or have you spent so long in Silco's shadow, you've forgotten how to be real?"

Sevika says nothing. Her footsteps eat the cobblestones; her drags devour the cheroot. Her profile stays inscrutable. If she's contemplating socking Vi in the jaw, or contemplating other matters entirely, she doesn't let on. That'd be tantamount to losing face.

Vi is, whatever else, half a Topsider.

Half a Topsider—but she's snitched not a damn thing that could be held against Zaun. Nothing to pad the Council's dossiers: no dirt on Silco's business dealings. Jinx's name had been kept exempt entirely. Silco had expected—hell, encouraged—her to spin tales and secure her safety. He knew each song would come with privileges: sweeten deals; polish connections; bolster clout.

If she'd played it right, she'd have been the Council's pet canary, crooning into a platinum-plated microphone.

Vi kept her lips zipped.

Six months at Silco's side, and she'd done squat to capitalize on the ordeal. Nor will she.  Whatever beefs exist, they are private property. Silco may have jettisoned her, Vi may hate him, their mutual grudges may stretch for leagues. And yet there was a bargain struck between them—Silco and Vi—the night the Void encroached on their home.

They'd become fellow survivors in an unholy alliance that no outsider could understand.

Now Vi's silence is the silence of the Fissures: inviolate. She'll carry it till her deathbed.

Maybe Sevika recognizes that.

She doesn't soften, exactly. But her words, when they come, don't hold the usual granite.

"No falling out," she says quietly. "At least, not where Zaun's concerned.  That bag's secured, tagged, and marked as Top Priority."

"And the rest?"

"The rest's the usual. I've got my squeezes. He's got his. Keeps the ashes hauled, and the gears oiled." The granite returns; so does a degree of the old wickedness. "Though if it's gossip you're after, here's a tidbit. Your girl is back in Silco's good graces. And she's planning on sticking around."

The cobblestones dip underfoot. Caitlyn's face flashes, but of course that's not who Sevika means. 

"Nao?" Vi blurts.

"The one and only."

"I thought she was done turning tricks."

"Oh, the tricking's been put to bed. She's Zaun's mistress-in-chief now. Direct line to the Eye." Off Vi’s stunned silence, Sevika tips a shoulder.  "Silco's got his hands in plenty of pockets. And Maven's the one who's pulled every pair of those monogrammed drawers down. Every state secret, every political scandal—it all funnels through her. Guess Silco decided it's smarter to have her onside."

"Motherfuck."

"Yeah, she's got a few of those on file too." Something rueful glitters in the dark gaze. "Thought I'd give you the heads-up. Silco's been trotting her out for public engagements lately. So you might see her viz in the papers. She sure fits the look of a high-class mistress. Posh accent. Poised walk. Polite manners. Plus a dash of brass to keep it interesting. Not to mention—" An expressive cupping, "—a brand new boost to the decolletage. Twenty-ninth birthday gift, courtesy of the Boss." 

Vi shakes her head. 

It's difficult not to feel a measure of resentment toward Nao. Especially after she'd set Vi up to walk into the ambush in the Abattoir. And yet, there's a twinge of pity, too. However shiny Nao’s golden perch, it sits within a shark's glistening jaws. Whatever gains come of staying close, there's always the risk of waking up with those teeth buried in your throat.

Nao should have left when she could.

Then again: wasn't that the advice she'd given Vi?

As for Silco: what's his gameplan? A mistress isn't his style. Too many demands: energy, attention, affection. Demands he'd rather invest elsewhere. Perhaps Nao's meant to serve as window-dressing as he slinks out of the shadows and into the social spotlight. Keep the gossip mill spinning with decadent sleights-of-hand, while he cuts dirtier deals behind the scenes.

Except Vi doesn't buy it. Silco's smallest decision serves a dual purpose.  But he's too subtle to misdirect through such showy gambits as a kept woman on his arm. If he's brought Nao back into the fold, his agenda extends beyond mere showmanship. He wants her within arm's reach: he wants her in his crosshairs.

Meaning Nao's not simply a plaything: she's leverage.

And the fallout—if things go south—could put her six-feet-under.

As if reading Vi's mind, Sevika says, "I've warned her to watch her step. She thinks she's in the Big League. But there's no keeping pace with a man who's ten miles ahead and counting." Her tone darkens; Vi hears grief and envy both. Neither take precedence. There's only an inevitability that comes with long-lived loyalty. "He runs hot; you just run behind. And if you don't run fast enough, you'll burn."

"You've always kept pace. Always run the closest."

"And now, Maven's using my playbook to cut corners."

"She ought to know better."

"Ought to."

"So should you."

Sevika's brow holds that familiar uptick.

"I just mean," Vi says, "it's a shitty hand to be dealt. You've been all-in for years. Now someone else is in the chips."

Understatement is a risky ploy. But Vi has learnt its uses. It gives nothing away—but it also leaves room for backing out. For denial, if that's the way Sevika wants to swing it.

Because even if her remarks are confirmation—yes, this is a breakup—that doesn't mean she wants to dwell in the reality.

In her place, Vi wouldn't.

Because, fuck, she gets it. Heartbreak hurts. Sevika may be older, tougher; the only fighter to meet Vi toe-to-toe. But that doesn't make her infallible. It takes a hundred sleepless nights to perfect that level of sangfroid.

More than anyone, Vi thinks the woman deserves an easy chair by the fireside.

Maybe that's why she asks:

"You doing alright?"

"We swapping girl-talk now?" Sevika scoffs. "Not our scene."

"We can afford to switch it up now and then." Vi kicks a stray pebble with the tip of her boot. "I just… hell. I'll say it. I'm grateful to you. When I was in Zaun, you gave me a square shot. Even if it was to keep the game rolling. After shit hit the fan, you kept the city from splitting at the seams. Silco ought to give you a fucking medal. Instead, he's with girl a half his age, who's profiting from all your groundwork. Soon, he'll either snap her in half, or find a juicer catch. But what about you? Will you still be on his hook?"

"Never been off it."

"But why?" Another pebble goes skittering. "He's not worth it. Believe me. I'd be happy to kick him in the nuts if it'd make a lick of difference."

"It'd make a lick of difference." A smile: fair-off, flickering. "But he'd still be the same bastard. Besides. You break his dick, you're breaking one of Zaun's national treasures."

"Ew."

"Thought we were switching it up."

"Not that way." Vi's spasm is visceral. "I just don't get it.  You can't tell me it doesn't chafe, knowing Nao's strutting in your shoes." A sudden candor makes its way past her defenses: "When I was in Zaun, Caitlyn... she took up with someone else. An heiress. The press got wind, and splashed the pictures on every rag Topside and Down-Low. Gotta tell you. It felt like an axe to the jaw, seeing her with another chick. Like breaking up ten times over. You can't say it's not as bad with you. That you're not..."

The quirk in Sevika’s brow cuts higher. The query's clear: Jealous?

Vi nods. Sevika shakes her head.

"He's welcome to whomever," she says. "Same way I'm free to fuck who I choose."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You're a rookie at this game, Vi. You've been with that Piltie of yours for what—eighteen months, give or take? And you think you're entitled to judge? Please. Try a decade, and we'll swap war stories."

A smoke ring ripples past Vi's nose: a perfect O-shaped provocation. She doesn't rise to it. Sevika's a natural sparrer: there's nothing she relishes more than a blow-by-blow.

But Vi understands her aim isn't to throw down. It's to throw Vi off her game.

This conversation is veering dangerously close to Sevika's heart-of-hearts. With it comes the temptation to divert, distract, derail. But the moment's past. In its place is a weary sense of trust.

At the end of the day, Vi and Sevika aren't scheming power-brokers.

Just two brawlers rolling with life's punches.

"Is that how long you've been with together?" Vi dares. "A decade?"

"We were never 'together.' Already made that plain."

"Doesn't mean there's no strings attached."

"Strings aren't the same as vows, Vi. And the more time goes by, the deeper those lines get engraved."

"Enlighten me."

Sevika smiles. A strange smile: halved and hidden. A sense of something tethered down deep. "A decade, Vi. That’s enough time to understand where matters stand. What's the bottom line, and the cost of crossing it." The cheroot's cherry brightens, then dims; two thirds' gone. "We grew up together. We fought together. Suffered the same defeats. Shared the same wins. Rode into war on the same wavelength. And when the end came, it gutted us. Me to disillusionment. Him to death."

Vi thinks back to the kitchen, and the parallelogram of sunlight creeping as Silco's confession came closer to completion. And, after: the rush of rage, so white-hot her vision went momentarily blind. That urge to grab the nearest object and drive it into his eyeball wasn't merely vengeance. It was a mercy kill.

Because she'd recognized how much had been cored out of Silco. The pieces of him that could never be resuscitated.

Never be laid to rest.

"He changed," Vi says.  "He'll never be the same again."

"Nothing stays the same," Sevika retorts, without sharpness. "Everything evolves. That Piltie of yours won't be the same girl you fell in love with, five months down the line. Let alone five years. But if you play your cards right, she'll be the woman by your side till you're old and senile." A drag of the cheroot; a coil of smoke. "Ten years, Vi. Not eighteen months of fucking and fights and fun. Ten years of ups and downs. Blood, sweat, tears and doing what needed to be done. Being the kind of XO he wanted, so he could be the monster our city needed. Ten years of struggling tooth and nail to finish what we started, and hitting too many rock-bottoms to count. And each time, I watched him dig in his heels, grit his teeth, and crawl from the wreckage. He never stopped until he'd made his way to the top. Until we'd gone from the slags in the sewer to the kings of the hill." A deeper drag; a longer coil. "Ten years, and d'you think it matters if I'm jealous? If he dips his wick in a million Mavens? If we're 'together' or not? After all that's been lost and gained and fought for?" She shakes her head. "The man's occupied territory. But my blood's on that deed. It’s mine till death do us part.”

"That sounds..."

Like a fucking prison, Vi nearly says. Except that's not quite right.

Whatever Silco and Sevika share refuses to slot into a neat cellspace. And Vi's perspective's biased: it's shaped according to a private lexicon of highs-and-lows, rather than give-and-take. She's never experienced a bond where reciprocity and self-sacrifice interlock. She meets Caitlyn as an equal; Caitlyn will settle for nothing less. It's why she's so active in Vi's struggles; so committed to securing their shared future. A partnership that transcends privilege and poverty; one that hopes to eradicate the divides entirely.

That journey's worth every second spent fighting the odds.

No regrets. No surrender.

Sevika and Silco don't fit this mold. They never have. He leads; she follows. To his highest ascents, and his lowest ebbs. Maybe because she's known who he is—what they are together—long before anyone else did. Known that on the blueprint of their bond, they can build something greater. Something that belongs to them both, and yet outlasts their struggles side-by-side.

Something that transcends even the love itself.

Not survival, but sovereignty.

Yet, Vi cannot help but think:  it must be hard to invest soul-deep in a cause, and not in each other. It must be harder to know you're aligned, no matter the odds. It must be downright brutal to be close —close enough to touch—but separated by a split so profound, you've shaped yourself around it, and can never fill the space in.

It must royally suck to know:  Gods, I'm still in love.

Always will be.

Full fucking circle.

"It sounds..." Vi swallows. "Heavy."

"It is what it is."

"Guess so." A beat. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"If your name's on the deed, then Silco's put it there. Meaning no matter how many beds he's hopped, he's gotta come crawling home in the end." Vi holds her stare. "And when he does, I hope you make him grovel. Hands and knees. Kissing the ground you walk on all the way to Hell. Because the bastard owes you ten times over for not cutting that so-called National Treasure clean off, and mounting it on a pike." Vi crooks her pinky-finger: as solemn as a salute. "Fifty Hexes per ball, right?"

A look of naked surprise flashes across Sevika's face. Her laugh catches Vi off-guard. The husky timbre bleeds into the dark. Sevika's features, in the receding dusk, are subtly altered: young as she must've been before time dealt its blows; beautiful in the flashfire way Vi sees whenever they clash in battle.  

A reminder, too. Some folks are forged to endure, no matter how rough the ride, or how rigged the game.

"Oh, Vi," Sevika says. "If you weren't kissing Piltie puss, I'd plant one on you."

"Keep dreaming."

"I've got better ways to keep warm. Though if you were offering—"

"I'd split you down your seams."

"Sweetheart," Sevika grins, "that's the idea."

[callmemonster68]

the blood moonlight | s.jy - jake

Y/N’s life changes when she takes a job at a secluded mansion, organizing the library of seven mysterious vampires. With Jake, the hottest moments unfold as she faces danger, passion, and a rival clan under the blood moonlight.

paring: vampire!jake x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 1,691

warnings: nsfw content, unprotected sex, blood/gore

Y/N never imagined her ordinary life in a quiet town would be transformed by fate. It all began when she accepted a job at an old mansion deep in the forest, tasked with caring for the personal library of its new residents. The mansion was home to seven mysterious men, each exuding a dark charm and harboring deep secrets.

Jake, the leader, radiated authority and charisma. Jay, enigmatic and seductive, sparked Y/N’s curiosity with his intense gazes. Jungwon, youthful in appearance but with wisdom spanning ages, had a kindness that contrasted with his true nature. Sunoo’s radiant smile masked a darker side, while Niki, the most playful, teased her with jokes and piercing looks. Sunghoon was cold and reserved, his silent intensity impossible to ignore. Lastly, Heeseung, a mix of sweetness and danger, seemed to be the bridge that united them all.

Over time, Y/N noticed they weren’t merely attractive and mysterious. There was something supernatural about them: the way they always seemed to know what she was thinking, their inhuman speed, and their aversion to sunlight.

When the truth was revealed—that they were vampires hiding from humanity—Y/N should have run. But the connection between her and the seven was irresistible. Each of them seemed to fill a void within her, and their attraction to her was equally overwhelming.

Life in the mansion grew more intimate as they protected and courted her, sharing moments that transcended the physical, diving into deep emotional bonds. Amid their passion, they faced external threats. Rival vampire clans sought Y/N, believing her blood possessed unique properties capable of empowering weaker vampires.

As the bond between the seven and Y/N deepened, the mansion became not just a home but a refuge against outside dangers. They would face threats, battles, and their own conflicted emotions to protect what they had built together.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Jake was the first to succumb to the uncontrollable desire he felt for Y/N. After a night when she insisted on helping him organize the mansion’s records, they found themselves alone in the vast living room, illuminated only by the faint glow of moonlight. Jake, always composed and charming, couldn’t resist when Y/N stepped closer to help adjust the collar of his shirt.

He pulled her firmly yet gently, and the kiss they shared felt like an electric shock. Jake’s intensity was overwhelming, guiding her toward the bedroom while whispering promises of pleasure only he could offer. He was intense but attentive, like a leader ensuring his partner felt both cherished and secure.

When they reached the bedroom, he closed the door slowly, never breaking eye contact with Y/N. He approached her again, his fingers brushing against her face and sliding down her neck as his deep voice filled the space between them.

Jake: Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, Y/N? How much I’ve held myself back from claiming you before the right moment?

Heat rose through her body, his gaze piercing through her soul. Before she could respond, he kissed her again, deeper this time, a murmur escaping his lips.

Jake: I want you to remember this night… every touch, every kiss. Because from now on, you’re mine, Y/N.

Jake laid her on the bed with a tenderness that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes. His hands explored every curve of her body as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Jake: Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it, Y/N.

She managed to murmur breathlessly, her lips still trembling from the kiss.

Y/N: I want you, Jake.

He smiled, a smile full of passion and control. His lips traced a path of kisses down her neck as he spoke, his voice low and husky.

Jake: Good answer. But I’m going to make you want me even more until there’s no doubt that you belong to me.

He began unbuttoning her shirt slowly, his fingers grazing her warm skin with every undone button. His eyes never left hers, absorbing every expression, every soft gasp she let out. When her shirt finally fell, Jake leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her shoulders, trailing down to her breasts, his hands firmly tracing the sides of her body.

He adored her with precision, making Y/N writhe under his touch, his lips and hands exploring her with the perfect mix of intensity and care. Every moment, Jake seemed intent on etching the memory of that night into her, of every sensation he was giving her. His lips descended from her breasts to her bare folds, leaving a trail of kisses along the way.

He spent ample time licking her folds, sucking on her clit, preparing her well to take him. Feeling her release nearing, he pulled back, looking into her eyes as he removed his own clothing, standing completely bare. The sight made Y/N famished, desperate to feel him inside her.

Jake: You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.

He said before capturing her lips in a fiery, passionate kiss. Without breaking the kiss, he positioned himself between her legs. Guiding his length to her entrance, Y/N’s soft gasps of anticipation filled the room. He entered her slowly, never breaking eye contact. It was a sight so sensual—his hands holding hers as his thrusts gradually intensified, alternating between kissing her lips and neck.

Jake: You’re so hot, I can’t resist you. You take me so well.

Y/N, lost in pleasure, couldn’t form words. The room filled with whispers, moans, and the muffled sounds of their heavy breathing. Jake made it his mission to ensure every second was unforgettable, murmuring words of desire and devotion between kisses that stole Y/N’s breath away.

When they finally reached their climax, the sensation was incredible, Jake’s warm release filling her and spilling over. His expression of satisfaction and exhaustion made him even more irresistible.

Jake: I love the way you give yourself to me. (he said, settling them into a position where Y/N rested her head on his chest, his fingers gently stroking her hair)

Y/N: I love the way you worshipped me. I’ve never felt so wanted before.

The night stretched on, but time felt suspended. Jake and Y/N spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The nights at the mansion were growing darker. The rival clan hadn’t given up on capturing Y/N, believing her blood to be unique—something that could grant unimaginable power to vampires. Despite all the protection offered by Jake, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo, Niki, Sunghoon, and Heeseung, an ambush caught them by surprise.

Y/N was gravely wounded during the attack, blood slowly dripping as she collapsed into Jake’s arms. Her eyes filled with tears, but she managed to murmur:

Y/N: I don’t want to die…

The mansion fell silent as the seven vampires gathered around her, their faces etched with despair. They knew there was only one way to save her—to turn her into one of them. But it wasn’t a simple process. It wasn’t just about drinking their blood; it was crossing a barrier that would bind their souls forever.

Jake was the first to speak, his voice firm but laden with pain:

Jake: If we do this, there’s no turning back. You’ll become like us, and the world will never be the same for you.

Fighting against the pain and the darkness threatening to consume her, Y/N looked at each of them.

Y/N: I trust you. I want to stay with you… forever.

Jay was the first to kneel beside her, his intense gaze locking onto hers. He made a small cut on his wrist, letting the blood drip onto Y/N’s lips. One by one, the others followed the same ritual, each drop of blood becoming part of her.

When it was Heeseung’s turn, the last of them, he hesitated briefly, holding Y/N’s face in his hands.

Heeseung: This will hurt, but I promise I’ll stay by your side the whole time.

He leaned in to lightly bite her neck, sealing the ritual. The pain was followed by a wave of heat spreading through Y/N’s body, accompanied by a sense of rebirth.

The transformation was quick but intense. Y/N screamed, her body arching as if being ripped from her humanity. Her eyes flew open, glowing a deep red before returning to their natural color. She gasped, feeling every sense heightened: the scent of the mansion’s old wood, the sound of the wind outside, and most of all, the seven hearts around her beating in unison.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

The transformation brought more than power; it brought connection. She could feel their thoughts, emotions, and the depth of love each felt for her. But with that came an intense thirst—a hunger no mortal food could satisfy.

Jake helped her stand, holding her hand firmly.

Jake: You’re one of us now. Strong, immortal… but it comes at a price. Your thirst will be relentless, and the world will see you as a monster.

Y/N looked at him and the others, her determination growing.

Y/N: I accept the price. Because with you, I fear nothing.

As the full moon illuminated the mansion, the seven vampires surrounded her, each vowing to protect and guide her in this new existence. They knew the rival clan was still a threat, but now, with Y/N as one of them, their group was complete and more powerful than ever.

Her first hunt that night, guided by Sunoo and Niki, ended with a piercing scream echoing through the forest. The transformation was complete, but something about her blood seemed different. Jungwon, observing her from afar, realized she wasn’t an ordinary vampire. Something in her blood made her a unique predator, and he knew this was just the beginning of something far greater.

What destiny lay ahead now that Y/N had crossed into immortality? No one knew for sure, but the mystery lingered like mist under the moonlight.

Their story, far from over, had only just begun.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Paranoid, paranoid, paranoid

Things feel out of order

Look and look around, I'm not sure of

Pair of paranoia, no

I can feel it in my aura…"

Tyler the Creator—"Noid"

Life in New Orleans dragged to a crawl for Celeste. Pure drudgery.

With Terry gone, colors didn't look as bright in the world. Food lacked taste and texture. Getting out of bed in the morning took prayers and innate willpower. Her mother sent over aromatic herbal bath salts to soak her body in. Grand-mère left Tupperware sealed containers of sausage gumbo, or fried chicken wings on her stoop that Celeste found after work at night. She acted like an addict suffering from withdrawals. Micah said she might be anemic. She thought about making a doctor's appointment.

Lighting candles and praying didn't make her feel better. Bargaining with lower-tiered saints didn't either. She spent her lonely nights sitting on her stoop chain smoking and drinking more rum punches than usual. The trilling of insects and the calls of nightbirds kept her company until she became numb and crawled into a cold bed.

Dark dreams rattled the peace of her sleep and Celeste often woke up in a sweat, paranoid that she was being watched by some unknown entity in her bedroom or outside her French doors. Her dreams were of a macabre nature with visions of walking in the French Quarter at night, or traipsing along the riverfront at sunset hearing the flapping of large wings behind her back. Terry never appeared in those nightscapes, although she caught glimpses of a shadow slithering across the ground, trying to catch up with her running footsteps. His voice called out to her, and she'd wake up hoping for daylight so she wouldn't have to lie awake for hours waiting for the sun to burn away the eerie webbing of terror that entrapped her every evening.

The worst night happened when sleep paralysis took over her body, and she swore evil shape-shifting shadows crept along the ceiling trying to steal her breath. Eventually, she could wiggle her toes and fingers and slowly regain control of her limbs. On those nights, she missed Terry's enormous body spooned around her, protecting her from the bogeyman.

To his credit, Terry called and left her messages, not completely dumping their connection cold turkey. However, he always chose times when he knew she'd be at work and unable to speak. He still professed his love for her, but he wasn't coming back soon. She left him a voicemail asking for his address, willing to make the drive up to see him, even if it had to be a quick turnaround trip. He never gave it to her.

Long summer days took over. The southern heat rolled in, and so did the start of hurricane season.

An oppressive heatwave layered itself all over Louisiana, and no matter how many cool showers she took, her body sweated buckets in the sauna-like atmosphere. The weather didn't stop her from walking or riding her bike around her neighborhood. She forced herself to stay active, visiting her grandparents more often, and attending random brunches Joyce pulled together.

Nothing filled the void of Terry, though. Eventually, his calls and text messages thinned down to an occasional heart emoji.

On a rare two days off, back-to-back, Celeste slept in and ate leftover pizza. She pulled her locs back into a high pigtail and prepared for a long meditative walk to the French Market to meet up with Joyce and some new people she didn't know. No more moping about Terry. Life had to go on and there were other fish in the Mississippi River. Blah, blah, blah.

Wiping her face with a cool washcloth, she painted on shimmery orange lipstick and added a few gold hair decorations to her locs. She broke out the lime-green summer dress and clear jelly sandals that always made her feel pretty and summery.

Locking her cottage door and the iron security door, she waved to a neighbor across the street and headed north, her feet automatically walking her toward the B&B Terry stayed at. Walking past the property, she looked at the playful statues on the roofs and stopped.

The gargoyle statue was no longer curled behind the big dragon figure. Celeste paced back and forth, craning her neck to see if the glare of sunlight prevented her from seeing it. No, it was definitely gone. She pulled out her smartphone and swiped the screen until she came to her photo gallery. When she looked at the image on her phone, it reminded her of how unsightly the statue had been compared to all the other goofy figures displayed on the roof. Maybe the owners came to their senses and realized the thing didn't match the whimsical vibe they tried to cultivate.

She carried on her merry little way and entered the Quarter, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella for the direct sunlight burning her skin. Passing by one of the many historic hotels, she glanced up to see a sight on a wall that knocked her breath short.

A stone-gray gargoyle fixture clung to the side of a sweltering red brick wall holding out the head of a gorgon…Medusa. The face of the creature looked exactly like the one on the B&B . Celeste walked past that part of the Quarter too many times and knew for a fact no gargoyle statue had ever been there before. She snapped a picture of it and hurried along to her brunch meet up.

She forgot about the gargoyle until two hours later when her entourage of seven window-shopped, and she glimpsed a different, more ferocious-looking gargoyle statue peering down from the roof of a boutique shoe store. Its six-foot wide flint-gray wings cast a shadow across the sidewalk. The outstretched clawed hand looked ready to snatch pedestrians off the street. Celeste shivered and nausea overtook her stomach. Acid churned in the back of her throat and she almost vomited her lunch special onto her sandals.

"Duchess, what's wrong?" Joyce asked.

She pointed at the statue.

"That was never there before."

Joyce stared at it. Celeste pulled out her phone and showed her the other gargoyle.

"This one I found on the side of a hotel. Another just like it was a few blocks from my house. It seems weird to me. I feel like I've been seeing a lot of weird shit lately."

Celeste rubbed her stomach and burped. A sour taste coated her tongue.

"I don't feel so good."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"Yeah."

The group pitched themselves up at a dueling pianos bar to get Celeste off her feet. Everyone ordered frozen mango margarita drinks except for her. She went to the public restroom and hung her head over the toilet. The sickness passed, and she used the sink to rinse away the sweat on her face.

Feeling better, she returned to her group and settled in for chit-chat and getting to know a man that Joyce brought for her to meet. The sun went down and the heat dropped by two measly degrees. She snacked on creamy artichoke dip and pita chips, listening to all the lively conversations around her until she noticed a man staring at her from the main bar. His dark skin gleamed with good genetics, and his dashing eyes zoned in on her quickly. She thought he was flirting, but his direct gaze came off predatory.

Glancing around, she pretended to take an interest in the active street life as the Quarter came alive for another night of debauchery. On the corner, a striking Black woman with a bald head and gothic make-up watched her. Her black painted lips peeled back into a slick smile and Celeste's intuition kicked in, warning her that something wasn't right about the woman. Her entire focus was on Celeste, just like the man at the…

Shit!

Celeste blinked, and the man at the bar moved toward her with a disjointed stroll. His movement reminded her of glitches in video games she played as a teen, when the operating system hadn't quite worked out the kinks. Unnatural. From the corner of her eye, she caught the slow track of a dark-brown beauty who smiled in a way that chilled Celeste in her gut. It was the smile of something trying its best to look…human. The parts of Celeste's skin that Terry once bit flared with a sharp stabbing of pain, the bruised nerve-endings waking up all the way. Her body wasn't right all over.

"I have to go, it's late," Celeste yelped.

She leapt to her feet and hugged Joyce.

"Wait, we can give you a ride to your place after we finish the rest of these appetizers," Joyce said.

"No…it's okay. I have to go to work in the morning."

"I thought you had the day off from both jobs."

Celeste shook her head and threw a ten-dollar bill on the table to help with tips. She brushed past the disappointed blind date and tried to hide herself within the crush of bodies milling around the party atmosphere. Her heart almost stopped when the strange man and woman from the bar followed her.

She ran like she was doing the fifty-yard dash in tenth grade, her legs stretching out to move her ass far.

Home.

She needed to get home, lock her doors, and hide.

Her emotions caught in her throat. Something was wrong with the world she lived in. Ever since Terry came into her life, she'd overlooked strange occurrences because she was caught up in the exhilaration of new romance and new dick. She'd ignored all the weirdness, because she didn't want to connect it to Terry. Now she even wondered about the missing white guys, Carl and Jacob. Terry did physically assault them and afterward, they went missing. The coincidence of them all interacting together nagged at her subconscious.

"What the fuck is going on?" she screeched when two twin gargoyle statues overlooked the roof of a picturesque townhouse filled with three-stories of revelers drinking and shouting down at passersby. Gargoyles were not a thing in New Orleans. It wasn't even Halloween season yet.

Celeste glanced over her shoulder to track any other weirdos following her. It looked like she lost them in the packed narrow streets. She double-backed and headed up to Rampart to bypass the Quarter completely. Flagging a taxi, she jumped in and gave directions to her house. She ducked down in the backseat and pretended to check her phone.

"Night, Miss," the older Haitian driver said.

"Mèsi," she said.

"Ou ayisyen?"

"Non, Black Creole from here," she said.

"Mwen wè…but we are kouzen, oui?"

"Oui," Celeste said.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at her closely from the rearview mirror.

"Um…I'm fine. Goodnight."

She paid in cash from some money Terry left behind and darted to her front door. Jamming the key in both door locks, she twisted them open and ran inside. She turned off the living room track lights that were on a timer and fled to her bedroom.

Sweating and panting from the exertion, Celeste sat on her bed in the dark and waited for her heart to stop pounding. After an hour of sitting, she went to the restroom, and showered for bed. Her smartphone lit up with a text from Allen, the guy Joyce fixed her up with. He left his number and told her to call him whenever she wanted to hang out.

She checked the inside lock and security bolt on her front door and back. The sour taste of liquid rose in her throat and she rushed to the sink in the kitchen and vomited up pita chips and the artichoke dip that looked like beige slurry. She rinsed her mouth and wiped her lips just as a loud pounding on the front door started.

The hell?

She peeked around the corner of her kitchen. Dark figures moved outside the colored, frosted glass panels of the top half of the front door, even though her porch light was off. The corner streetlight flickered on.

Her stomach tightened, and she held her breath, afraid that whoever was outside could hear her breathing. She stood completely still and waited. The pounding started again.

"Hello?" a female voice said. "I'm a cousin of Terry's. He wanted me to bring you something."

The lie rang hollow, but Celeste's heart softened at the sound of her lover's name. She pushed her back against a living room wall hidden by a bookcase, determined to ignore the person until they went away.

"Celeste? My name is Dominique. I'm here on vacation and Terry asked me to drop off a gift. I'm saving him thirty dollars by bringing it myself instead of him mailing it."

Dominique's voice sounded sweet and very country.

"He's coming down to see you in a few days and he wanted to give you this. I think it's a fancy dress. He said you looked real pretty at Durand's the last time you were in a dress."

Celeste lingered near the bookcase, but she stepped further into the living room. Only Terry and her friends knew about Durand's.

"You know what? I'll just leave it on the porch. Sorry I came here so late. I dropped by earlier, but you weren't home, and I didn't want anyone to steal it if I left it behind."

Celeste crept another few inches toward the front door. She lifted her cell phone out of her purse and kept the police number on her screen. The cell phone still listed it under Freddie's name as "Freddie/Work". Dominique banged on the security door again.

"Just leave it on the porch, please," Celeste called out, annoyed by the intrusion, her finger hovering above the police contact.

"No problem," Dominique said.

She heard movement and footsteps walking away. Waiting for an hour quietly, she finally cracked open the front door and kept the security door locked.

No package.

She looked down at the bottom step and still didn't see any box or bundle. Glancing at Freddie's police number, she debated about calling him.

"Hello, Celeste."

She dropped her phone on the floor, cracking the screen. The strange man from the piano bar stood at the top of her stoop, his dark, foreboding eyes mesmerizing her to the point of her falling into a dazed stupor. Behind him, one step down, was the Black goth and the dark brown beauty with the uncanny valley smile. Two other Black women in dark clothing waited on the sidewalk, watching her with sinister eyes.

The man smiled, revealing platinum grills. The dark brown of his eyes faded into silver orbs that enchanted her with their strange ethereal glow.

"We don't mean to frighten you," he hissed, his nostrils flaring and sniffing at her from behind the iron security door.

The women also inhaled deeply and licked their lips, staring at her throat.

"What the fuck do you want?" she said.

"This bitch talkin' spicy, Deacon," the Goth said.

The man tutted at Celeste, shaking his head.

"No, no, no…that's not how you speak to The Deacon, my sweet sustenance. We're here to ask you about Terry."

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

The man pounded the frame of the iron door. Celeste jumped and stepped back.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Duchess!" he shouted.

He turned his head away as if to gain control of his emotions. His lips curled into a deceptive smile.

"How do you know me? Who sent you here?" she asked.

"Let us in, Celeste," the Goth said.

"Yesss…invite us inside and we can…talk. Open the door," The Deacon said.

His silver, unblinking eyes held her in place, and the colors around his towering frame drained away. When he spoke again, his voice echoed inside her head, reminding her of the way Terry invaded her thoughts…read her mind. The canine teeth of the platinum grills elongated, becoming wolfish and frightening. Fangs.

"Let us come inside…"

The four menacing women dropped the façade of humanness, their fangs exposed and dripping with saliva. Celeste's security door had wide enough gaps to reach an arm inside, but The Deacon didn't grab her through the openings.

It occurred to her that the door was a barrier they couldn't cross without her permission. As long as she didn't verbally consent to letting them in, she was safe on the inside. But if she stepped out...they would feast.

"I smell him all over you…inside of you…open this door so we can speak of my brother without eyes upon us."

Celeste raised her left hand and flicked on her porch light. The bulb didn't emit UV rays, but it improved her visibility and momentarily distracted them... long enough for a shadow to stretch across her doorway.

Celeste gasped and touched her cheek. It felt like Terry's hand had stroked her skin with the warmth from his palm.

"Fucking bastard!" The Deacon shrieked.

He glanced back at the others.

"His sentinel is here...watching over her," The Deacon said.

He slammed both of his palms on the two middle bars of the security door.

"He will come back here for you, and when he does, we'll be waiting. Tell him he can't hide from us forever."

The Goth woman sniffed the air and bared her fangs at The Deacon.

"The Old Ones are near. We have to go!" the Goth yelled.

The Deacon glared at Celeste and her eyes watered. She blinked once and the strangers at her door vanished like they were never there. Her body swayed and the sound of loud flapping wings above her cottage rang in her ears. Something landed with a thud on top of her roof and walked across it with heavy footsteps. She slammed the front door shut and locked it again, cocking her ear toward the ceiling, listening for whatever new monstrosity awaited her.

Luckily, it didn't stay long. She stood staring at her ceiling with bated breath and a thundering heart rate. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled with familiar urgency. She turned around and looked at her French doors.

Terry's shadow darkened the curtains.

She walked with slow, trance-like steps toward the French doors and stared at the outline of his body behind the thin drapes.

"Are you there?" she asked.

Her voice sounded so weak and helpless.

The shadow didn't answer, and Terry's voice didn't go into her mind. That shit had been real. The first time it happened at the dive bar, she thought she had been drunk, horny, and imagining him talking inside her head. The dawning realization of what he truly was terrified her. Behind those drapes was proof of an abomination to humankind.

And she let it into her home.

Slept with it.

Let it feed from her, thinking it was some fetish kink. Just some deep hickeys and love bites that got his rocks off.

Fucking hell.

She whimpered and held her hands in a prayer position against her lips.

"Are you here with me… Terry?"

She reached for the doorknobs and unlocked them, flinging both doors wide open.

A sleek black cat sprinted across her small courtyard and leapt onto the neighbor's fence, blending into the darkness and out of sight.

Chapter 10 HERE.

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

There Is No Coming Back From This - Chapter 2

Characters: Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Summary: "It's her time, Tony. And I hate that as much as you do, but there's some things you can't fix. There is no coming back from this."

"Dad?"

"I'm sorry." He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. "I couldn't - I couldn't let you die."

"Dad? What did you do?"

He embraces you, whispering, "I'm sorry."

He wakes in a cold sweat from the dream.

Except, it's not a dream. It's the reality he singlehandedly created.

He barely registers his phone blaring on his nightstand until Pepper also jolts upright from he phone's ringer. 

"What? What's wrong?" she gasps. 

"Relax." He pats her hand, jutting his chin toward her nightstand. "It's your phone."

She snatches up her phone, answering on the third ring. 

"Who is it?" he grumbles, still half asleep and rattled from his latest trip down memory lane. "And do they know that it's 4 in the morning?"

She waves him off, abruptly standing out of her bed. "It's Agent Ross."

"It better be important enough for him to wake us up."

"Shh..." Pepper hisses, trying to keep up with Agent Ross' rambling. "What's out of your hands? No, you can't be serious." 

Tony's ears perk up at the sound of Pepper's short, clipped answers and the look of shock painting her face. "What? What's going on?"

Pepper reaches for Tony, ushering him up and out of bed, "Tony, go get-"

Her words are cut off by your blood curdling scream.

There are no other thoughts in his head as he takes off, running faster than he's ever gone before. He can hear your screams for him. Once. Twice. There's a fear in your voice that he's never heard. Not even as you were handed a death sentence. Not even when he told you he'd dosed you with an untested super solider serum days ago. 

When he bursts into your room, he immediately notices two things. 

First, he's not the only person frantically checking on you. Steve and Bruce skid into your makeshift hospital room right behind Tony, the same disheveled yet guarded looks on their faces. 

And second, and most pertinently, a SWORD agent placing you in reinforced handcuffs. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Tony demands, practically lunging at the man until he hears a voice he'd only hoped to never hear again. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Dad?" you call out to him, trembling as the agent pulls on your wrists again. 

"It's okay, sweetie. It's alright, I'm going to take care of this," Tony tries to console you from afar. He turns on his heels, glaring at the person responsible for this, "General Ross."

General Ross hands him a warrant. "We have authorization to detain your daughter. She's coming with us."

Tony crumples the paper in his hand, "Like hell you do."

"On what grounds?" Bruce pipes in. 

General Ross' eyes flicker to Bruce, then back to Tony, "We received word that you've been experimenting on your daughter. It's been decided by the council that you and Dr. Banner are no longer fit to monitor such a volatile and dangerous experiment."

"She's not an experiment. She's a child," Bruce finally pipes in.

"A child who is a U.S. citizen - last time, I checked she has rights," Tony remarks, his eyes more on you than anyone else. You're shaking, because you're cold or afraid he's not sure. Your eyes are glassy though you've yet to shed a single tear. And the thing that enrages him the most, there's blood dripping down both your arms, probably where the idiot agent ripped out your IV.

"Those rights were null and void the second you injected her with an untested, highly experimental super soldier serum, Tony. I will not tell you again. You signed the Accords. You agreed to this, remember?"

"I did not agree to this," Tony counters. "And even if I did, you don't have control over Stark intellectual property or its assets."

"That may be, but you've left us no choice. The child is a threat to everyone around her. She's a threat to national security, one that must be contained.”

"And just how long do you plan on holding her?" Bruce interrupts before Tony says anything to further escalate the situation.

"Indefinitely."

"Yeah," Tony scoffs. "Over my dead body will you be taking her."

"I will. Or every person in this compound will be considered an enemy of the State. And don't think I won't have you arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive," Ross says, looking directly at Steve.

"Enemy of the State?" you exhale, flinching at the severity of the situation and just how quickly it all continues to escalate. You're not even really sure what happens, but one second your arms are unnaturally pulled behind your back and the next they're in front of you, cuffs pulled clean off.

"This is what I'm talking about." General Ross shakes his head, watching you carefully. "You've gone too far, Tony. She needs to be contained and monitored."

"She is being monitored. Here."

"That's not good enough."

Pepper's the next one speaking, having slipped into the room during all of the commotion. "General Ross, can't we have a little time? It's the middle of the night."

"Absolutely not. As far as I'm concerned you are all flight risks with a motive and unlimited resources to escape. The answer is no."

"Just an hour? She's bleeding," Pepper points out the places on your arm where the IV's were roughly pulled out. "I'll even give you the blueprints of the compound and you can station someone at all of the exits. No one will be able to get out without you knowing. Please?"

Ross battles with himself for a moment, wondering just how far he's willing to push all three men. "You have an hour."

"Thank you."

General Ross nods at his agents, ushering them out of the room and out of the building. He utters one last warning as he walks out of the room. "We'll know if you try to escape."

Not a person in the room has a response to that. Instead, Pepper reaches for Tony, embracing him tightly. As discreetly as possible, she whispers in his ear, "You've got an hour."

The entirety of your last hour out in the world is spent with Pepper. She ushers you out of your medical room, back to your old bedroom. She sits you on the edge of your bed and immediately begins fawning over you, brushing your hair from the tangled bed head, braiding it neatly. She tends to the irritated IV site, cleaning it and bandaging it.

"Pepper?" you whisper, stopping her whirlwind movements in their tracks. She turns to you, looking as frantic as you felt. You look up to her, the only mother figure you'd ever known and softly utter, "What's gonna happen to me?"

"I don't know, sweetie." She strokes your face. "But you're going to be okay. Your dad will make sure of that."

The hour goes by like seconds.

Then you're back in handcuffs, being walked outside into the pitch black night. All you can hear is the sound of the engine rumbling and the slight crunch of the gravel beneath your feet.

You're at least thankful that you got to change out of your pajamas and into something a little more appropriate for being hauled off to whatever prison they deem fit for you.

When you finally get to the transport, the man takes no time in placing chains around your waist and to your ankles, effectively restricting all of your movement.

"Are the cuffs necessary?" Tony fumes, watching helplessly as they take you away. "She's voluntarily going with you."

"It's just protocol, Mr. Stark."

There's not a single cohesive sentence you can string together, let alone say, as you're dragged into the van. They take the combined chains and bolt you to the floor.

You watch the despair on your father's face as the agent climbs in behind you and shuts the door.

Even though it's dark, you're still very acutely aware of the gun being pointed at your face. You try to stay completely still, worried that the slightest mishap will be misconstrued as an act of aggression. You focus on the sounds of the person breathing in front of you, that's all you can hear except the rumble of the engine.

You breathe slowly, careful not to move your arms or hands. You think back to when you'd just woken up from your near death experience. You reached for the railing of the bed to ground yourself and broke the thing clean off. It terrified you to your core, thinking about the things you could do. Even on accident.

It simultaneously feels like 5 minutes and 5 hours have passed when the rumble of the engine suddenly cuts, leaving you all in a deafening silence. You hold your breath and try not to panic even as you hear muted thuds and isolated yelps coming from outside.

The very agent sitting in front of you looks at you like you're going to be the one to tell them to go look. They take a deep breath and for the first time all night, there's not a single gun on you.

The man creaks the door open ever so slowly. He takes a moment to crane his neck out into the open, when suddenly another yelp leaves his mouth as he's jerked forward into the night.

"Kid, are you okay in there?" you hear a familiar voice ask.

"Steve?"

Both doors opened to the shining moonlight, you can see the vague outline of Steve Rogers' face. You sigh in relief, "It's you."

"Come on, we don't have a lot of time," he urges, reaching out to grab your hand.

As if you're testing the waters, you experimentally take one hand and try to break the chain on your left hand. It falls away with ease, and you're not sure whether you're terrified or in awe of yourself. It takes you less than a minute to break free of your constraints.

"Where exactly are we going?" you ask, taking Steve's hand and jumping out of the van.

He points into the direction of the heavily wooded area surrounding the lonely road. "We're going right through there."

"There?"

"Just follow me. I won't let anything happen to you," he promises

"Okay," you nod, following Steve's brisk walk into the woods.

The two of you trek through the darkness for quite some time and never once is there a clear path or road that you're following. Steve's confidence and stride never once waver and you remind yourself over and over that you trust Steve. You trust him to keep his word and keep you safe.

"Just up ahead."

You look up and there's a large clearing illuminated by two headlights not far from you. As you get closer, you can make out one shadowy figure. You squint your eyes and crane your neck until you see him.

"Dad," you call much louder than you should in the dead of the night.

You bolt the second you're sure it's him, and the second you're in reach you throw yourself into his open arms. Tony takes a moment to relish in this reunion - to breathe in a sigh of relief that you're okay. That you got away and you're safe in his arms.

Unfortunately, he knows that that moment can't last, and he pulls away.

You vehemently shake your head, not liking the look on his face. "Dad, what's going on?"

"I need you to listen to me, we don't have a lot of time," Tony pleads, grabbing your face with his hands and forcing you to look at him. "Steve will explain everything later, but right now you just need to listen."

You continue shaking your head, but he maintains his grip on you. "Dad, please, just tell me. What's happening?"

"What's happening is you're going to go with Steve, okay? You and Steve are going to go somewhere away from here, somewhere where no one can find you. You stay with Steve no matter what, you hear me? He's going to take care of you. He'll protect you... And I'm not going to see you for a while."

You tremble, "No."

"Listen, you're going to go. Get away from here. And I'm going to fix this. And once I've fixed it, you can come back home. Okay?"

"I don't want to go," you sob.

"I know, I know, I don't want you to go either, but right now you need to be safe, okay?"

"What about you? What if they figure out you're involved with all of this?"

"I will be fine. I'll be completely fine as long as you stay safe. Don't you worry about me for a single minute, because I will be fine. And once I fix this, you can come home. I promise." Tony removes his hands from your face and moves you into Steve's arms. "Protect her?"

"With my life," Steve promises.

Tony nods, seeing the solemnity on Steve's face. He hands you a dark oversized hoodie. "Put this on."

You slip it on and then he's handing you a large black backpack. "Everything you two will need is in here. Money, passports, documents. It's all there."

You see the conflicted look on your father's face as he closes his eyes and exhales deeply. "You don't have a lot of time before they figure out that you're gone. I love you, kid. Don't forget that."

"I love you too, Dad."

And then you're walking away from everything you've ever known.

This time the trek isn't nearly as long or rugged. In fact, before you can process everything that's happened you're back on well-lit pavement. "There's a bus stop just up ahead."

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"As far away from here as possible, as quickly as possible, find a place to lay low while this whole thing blows over."

"Any ideas?"

"I've got a place in mind."

"Are you going to elaborate or are you going for that cryptic, dramatic vibe?" you joke.

He chuckles, slightly shaking his hung head. "I've got a friend that can help."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist 'There Is No Coming Back From This' Chapter List

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378

[euniveve]

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞 — k. ayato

pairings: ayato x reader tags: christmas, modern AU, angst to fluff w.c: 839 a.n: this is a very very very very late christmas present for @fuoon as part of the @2023gisecretsanta event! I never back down never give up (also i was technically sick so i can latch on to that reasoning hahahhahah I'm still very sorry tho) merry christmas, happy new years, hopefully you like your gift!

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry but there’s an emergency meeting that can’t be delayed. I’ll be home as soon as it’s finished.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, looking at the bare Christmas tree in the corner of your living room. The spruce sits there, dreary and gloomy, void of life and celebration, just like your heart. The corner of your lips twitch and you swallow the growing lump in your throat, your eyes shifting back towards the fireplace.

“It’s alright,” you reply, your voice shaky before clearing your throat, “hopefully your meeting goes well.”

“Again my love, I am so sorry, I’ll try to make it up–”

You press the red button before you can hear him say anything more, sparing you the inevitable disappointment it would bring.

Ayato always does this; business before family, or perhaps in his mind it is one and the same. After all, the man has been brought up for the sake of the company, his parents burdening him with the knowledge that it will all be his responsibility someday. That “someday” came 3 years ago and it has been weighing heavily on your relationship.

Last year you were stuck with his sister, Ayaka, and housekeeper Thoma while the head of the Kamisato Corporation ended up coming home after the celebration was finished and the leftovers from the feast stored away. They aren’t bad company per se, you could even say their presence is enjoyable, but they aren’t him.

They are not Kamisato Ayato.

Granted, the previous years he had returned home in time, but this year is no different than that one. The only difference is that Ayaka and Thoma were busy this time of the year, something about helping with the business, so it seems like you will be celebrating alone. 

You suppose you are being selfish, seeing that his enterprise is the one managing the cultural aspect of the Tri-Commision, therefore they would be busy in the time of holidays, it is given. A sacrifice you would have to make, a taste for the coming years undoubtedly.

Wishing for it to change is a childish dream; you are only his fiancee after all. You ought to understand.

You look around the boxes, spotting your headphones before putting them on and arranging your favourite playlist to keep your mind off things, humming along to the tune of a familiar song. 

With absentminded singing, you pick up the tinsel and begin to wrap it around the tree, arranging tiny lights in between the branches. Your fingers twirl the ornaments before placing them in a neat and florid manner. 

Staring blankly at the now fully decorated tree, you took a couple of steps back, trying to admire your own work; that is, before your back pressed against something… warm?

You furrowed your brow, your lips pressed together as your heart began to beat faster in a panic. You quickly contemplate many possibilities; did an intruder manage to get past the property’s tight security? Are you going to get mugged? Will Ayato be sad if a bunch of stuff is missing?

You shook your head; the fiancee of the richest man in Inazuma shouldn’t be scared of such things– so you bite the bullet and turn around, only to be greeted by those dreamy blue eyes and an aloof smile, one you have the pleasure of witnessing every morning.

Ayato reaches over to you, his gaze soft as his hand gently grabs onto your headphones and removes them from your head, your heart beating out of your chest as you watch his every move.

“Ayat-”

Warmth engulfed you both as you felt his soft lips against yours, his arm wrapped around your waist, a tender touch shared only between couples; the happiest couple you know.

“But you said you wouldn’t?” You whisper with bated breath, “How.. why?”

“I will not miss another Christmas with you,” he softly replies before letting one of his mischievous smiles slip in, “After all, there are worse nights to miss than this one.”

“Pfft…”

His blue eyes shift away from your face, that smirk still sitting on his lips before his sights landed on the fully decorated Christmas tree, except for arguably, the most important part. “Where is the star?”

He slightly bent down, resting his chin on your shoulder, kissing your jaw before whispering into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your earlobe almost making you shiver. “Were you waiting for me to put it, darling?”

“As if!” You stifle a chuckle, eyeing the golden star on one of the boxes before tugging the fabric of his suit. “But could you perhaps do it?”

Ayato hummed, his arm’s grip tightened on your waist, peppering kisses on your shoulder before finally loosening and walking over to the boxes, picking up the star and placing it on top of the tree effortlessly. He then suddenly turned around, taking a mistletoe out of his pocket and holding it high up.

“Shall we complete the ultimate Christmas tradition, my love?”

[thornybubbles]

JJBA Yandere Scenario: Escape (Jotaro, Giorno, Johnny)

Scenario: Yanderes come home to find that the Reader has escaped. 

Reader Beware: Yandere stuff, horror themes, abusive behavior, and very uncomfortable situations ahead. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read. 

Jotaro (part 4): Jotaro knows you’re gone from the moment he opens the door. The house has a strange, empty vibe. It’s a feeling he became familiar with every time he came home after his first wife left him, taking his only child with her. As much of an introvert as Jotaro is, he actually despises living alone. You were supposed to fill that void, dammit. He gives the house only a cursory look over before confirming that you are indeed gone. It looks like you didn’t even bother to pack anything. You were so desperate to get away from him that you just left with nothing but the clothes on your back. He sighs heavily and steps outside. He summons Star Platinum and gives the Stand the mental order to use his enhanced vision to search for signs of what direction you may have run in. 

Star finds numerous clues: a few footprints, broken branches on some bushes, disturbed tree roots that you most likely tripped over in your haste to escape, and so on. In moments, Jotaro already knows where you’re heading. 

“Good grief.” He mutters, shaking his head. 

You had no plan at all. You were just running in a random direction and hoping that you would eventually come across civilization. 

You stupid bitch. 

You had no had no idea that you were just running deeper into the wilderness. Eventually you would come across the lake, realize that it was far too big to try to swim across and it would take forever to walk around it. You had no supplies and he knew you had no survival training to speak of. It would take almost a month before you reached anything that resembled civilization. That’s exactly why he chose to bring you to his property way out in the middle of nowhere. Aside from making it harder for enemy Stand users to find the two of you, there were also no nosey neighbors to butt into his business. He was the only other person you would ever see or ever need to see. He made sure of that. He brought you here because he knew that even if you managed to get out of the house, there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. You were stuck with him, like it or not. 

He finds you standing on the bank of the lake, sobbing into your hands. Maybe now you finally realize that you can NEVER get away from him. Maybe now you’ll stop this foolishness and accept that you belong to him and no one else. He stands behind you watching you have your little meltdown with zero sympathy. You brought this on yourself, so he feels no guilt at all. If anything he’s furious. You won’t see it though. If he actually shows you just how angry he is with you… it’s doubtful that you would survive it. 

Jotaro stands there silently watching you cry. After a while you wipe your tears, look up, and fall flat on your ass from the shock of seeing him standing there. 

“JOTARO!” You scream, your voice shrill and hitched with shock and terror. 

You know you’re in for it now. 

Jotaro doesn’t move. He just stands there giving you his trademark glare, looking at you like you were less than shit. After a moment, his lips curl into a slight snarl and he turns away from you in disgust. You shakily climb to your feet staring at his back as he moves away from you.

“You really are an idiot.” he growls. 

He glances back at you over his shoulder. 

“Let’s go.” he commands and walks away. 

You fall into line behind him, staring at the ground and not saying a word. 

Giorno (Don): Giorno’s men have already informed him the very moment you disappear. By the time he arrives the whole island is in an uproar. Security is rushing around frantically searching for any sign of you, Mista is doing his best to remain calm but failing, Trish is sitting on the sofa in the parlor looking extremely worried. It was her that discovered that you were missing. She had dropped by to pay you a visit and you didn’t greet her like you usually did. She and Mista tried to look for you but couldn’t find you. They thought you might have been with Polnareff but he said he hadn’t seen you all day. 

Giorno wasn’t worried. He knew you so very well. All of your little antics were becoming annoyingly predictable. You were either hiding like a pouting child in hopes to escape when you felt the time was right or you were already outside the villa and heading for the only place you could possibly go in order to find a means to get off of the island. Either way, there was only one place you would go. 

By the time you make it to the boathouse, you find Giorno already waiting for you. He starts berating you the moment you enter the building. 

“Tell me, what was your plan beyond this point?” he says, voice straining with held back anger. “Were you going to try to steal a boat that you have no idea how to pilot? What would you do if you ever made it to land? Where would you even go? My enemies would swarm you the moment your feet touched the shore!” 

You stutter and stammer, trying to offer up an excuse, any excuse, but Giorno isn’t hearing it. You’ve seen him angry before, but never this angry, and certainly not at you. You realize far too late that you’ve really crossed the line this time. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are here for your own protection?!” he all but bellows at you. “I’m growing very tired of your antics. Do you have any idea what you may have cost me today? I had to cancel a meeting with a very important client, all because you decided to forget yourself yet again!! I don’t know what it will take to smooth things over with them now! Your continued rebelliousness is going to drive me insane!” 

Tears pricked at your eyes and your throat burned. He never raised his voice at you before. You are terribly afraid of what he has planned for you. After a moment of fuming, Giorno manages to calm himself down, if only slightly. 

“I suppose I only have myself to blame. I’ve been too permissive and allowed you far too much freedom. That will change after today! You can count on it! In the meantime, Trish has come by for a visit. It’s bad enough that you nearly gave her a heart attack but to keep her waiting on top of that is unacceptable. So, stop acting like a child, go back to the villa, and tend to your guest! I need to make some phone calls. Hopefully I haven’t lost the client completely. When Trish leaves, you and I are going to have a very long talk.” 

You run back to the villa as if every demon in Hell was at your heels. When you meet with Trish you apologize for scaring her and keeping her waiting. You make up some excuse for your absence and she believes it. You don’t dare tell her the truth. She wouldn’t believe it. She’d believe whatever lie you told her over the truth that Giorno is a raving lunatic. This is because he has nearly everyone you know believing that you have some kind of “nervous disorder”. So you lie. You tell her that you just had a mild attack and just needed to hide for a bit until you calmed down. You tell her you’re okay now and she seems relieved. She begins the conversation, telling you about the things that she’s been up to lately. As you listen to her, you fold your hands neatly in your lap, trying to hide the fact that they’re still shaking. 

Johnny: Johnny rolls into the house shouting that he’s come back from town. When you don’t immediately respond, fear grips his fragile heart. That fear turns into panic when he goes from room to room and you are nowhere in sight. He goes into your shared room and finds it in a disarray. The wardrobe doors are wide open and most of your clothes are gone. The dresser is in the same condition. Whatever clothing is left is scattered all over the floor and bed. He goes into the kitchen and finds that some of the canned food is missing from the pantry. The fear in his heart morphs into whatever emotion settles between despair and fury. Tears are running down his cheeks but his expression is that of vicious hate. 

How dare you do this to him! 

He thought things between you had finally smoothed out. You were so afraid of him at first, but then you started being so sweet to him. You let him hold you without trying to push him away. You even let him kiss you whenever he wanted! It was all an act, wasn’t it? You were just playing him for a fool the whole time. You’d been waiting for the moment when you’d gained his trust enough that he’d leave you alone without locking you in the house. He should have known that this would happen. He should have known that you never loved him back. 

That’s okay, Darling. That’s just fine. 

Because he’s gonna find you. No matter where you run, no matter where you hide, HE WILL FIND YOU! 

He doesn't care what he has to do, what he has to sacrifice, or who he has to kill. Hell, he’s willing to destroy the whole world if it means bringing you back home. 

He’s so desperate in his need to have you back that he even briefly considers going to Valentine, but immediately scraps that idea. Valentine would no doubt kill him on the spot and take his corpse part. He doesn’t trust that scummy politician even slightly. 

No, he’ll get you back all on his own. 

And when he does, he’ll make sure you won’t be able to leave him ever again. By the time he’s done with you, the thought of escape won’t ever cross your mind again. Maybe he should break your legs or have Tusk tear them off completely? Maybe he’ll shoot his fingernail bullets into your back and sever your spine so you’ll be just like him. Then you’ll be a matching pair. Won’t that be cute? 

Or maybe he should just kill you outright and then roll himself off of the nearest cliff… 

Or he could just hold you close to him and smother you with kisses, emphasis on “smother”, and then roll himself off of a cliff…

Honestly, all those options sounded completely reasonable in Johnny’s warped mind. Well, he’ll figure out what to do with you once he finds you. And he WILL find you! No doubt about that. He’ll hunt you to the ends of the Earth and back again if he has to. Nothing that exists can keep him from you. 

Absolutely nothing.

**Note: Auto correct, for some reason, kept trying to change Trish's name to "trash". Now that's just mean.**

[mariacallous]

The courts have decided against DOGE and the US government in their legal battle to take full control of the United States Institute of Peace, including a headquarters building with an estimated value of $500 million.

In a memorandum opinion, US district court judge Beryl Howell ruled in favor of the former institute board and staff who had sued to be reinstalled at the agency after DOGE affiliates forcibly removed them in March. She also gave a strong rebuke to the defendants in the case, who include the US DOGE Service, President Donald Trump, secretary of defense Pete Hegseth, and several other government representatives and agencies.

“The purported removal of members of the Board of Directors of the United States Institute of Peace (“USIP”) … was unlawful,” Howell wrote in the order, “and therefore null, void, and without legal effect.”

The order states that the USIP board members who had been forced out must be reinstated. It goes on to declare any actions taken by the agency since their removal—including the headquarters transfer—null and void. It further bars the defendants from “maintaining, retaining, gaining, or exercising any access or control over the Institute’s offices, facilities, computer systems, or any other records, files, or resources.”

The ruling caps off one of the most dramatic chapters in DOGE’s government takeover so far. It’s also one of the fullest repudiations yet of DOGE overreach. The Justice Department did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

The fight over the USIP began with a February 19 executive order that declared the agency “unnecessary” and effectively called for its elimination. In response, the USIP told DOGE representatives that it operated independent of the executive branch. It didn’t work. On March 14, the Trump administration fired the 10 voting board members of the USIP. That same day, according to court filings, DOGE representatives—accompanied by agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation—tried to enter USIP headquarters but were turned away.

In court documents, lawyers for the USIP detail a rapid escalation of attempts to access the agency’s property. On Sunday, March 16, two FBI agents visited a senior USIP security employee at home, demanding information on how to get into the headquarters building. That same day, DOGE allegedly coordinated with Inter-Con, USIP’s contract security firm, to enter the building; USIP officials found out and immediately suspended Inter-Con’s contract. It wasn’t enough to stop them.

The following day, according to court documents, four Inter-Con employees showed up at USIP headquarters. When their badges didn’t work at the front door, one of their colleagues showed up with a physical key and gained access. USIP personnel then called the DC Metropolitan Police, claiming unlawful entry. MPD officers eventually arrived—and helped DOGE and other Trump administration officials take control of the building.

From there, the takeover was swift. That Friday, March 21, six USIP staffers received termination notices. Court documents show that DOGE representative Nate Cavanaugh was put in charge of the agency the following Tuesday, March 25, and was instructed to transfer USIP’s assets—including the headquarters building—to the DOGE-controlled General Services Administration at no cost. On Friday, March 28, “virtually all” of the remaining USIP employees were terminated as well. The next day, Office of Management and Budget director Russell Vought signed off on the asset transfer—before the courts had a chance to rule on a motion from USIP attorneys to stop it.

For all the fireworks surrounding the USIP takeover, the legal question at its center has been fairly straightforward: Can the executive branch control an independent nonprofit?

The answer has proven to be complicated. While USIP operates independently, it was established and funded by Congress. Lawyers for the fired USIP board and staff members have repeatedly argued that the agency “does not perform any executive functions,” which they claim exempts it from executive branch authority. The government claims that USIP’s taxpayer-funded mission “to extend the United States’ soft power internationally,” along with the fact that the president of the United States selects its board of directors, means the executive branch has every right to replace the board at will.

In previous rulings in this case, Howell had left the door open to either interpretation. On March 19, she denied the USIP’s motion for a temporary restraining order that would have kept the original USIP board in place, saying it was “too difficult to determine” if USIP was likely to win the case on the merits, given its unique structure. In an April 1 ruling allowing the transfer of USIP headquarters to the GSA—in fact, it had already been transferred the previous weekend—Howell again stressed that “ambiguity persists.”

The summary judgment order leaves no such room for interpretation. “The president’s efforts here to take over an organization … contrary to statute established by Congress and by acts of force and threat using local and federal law enforcement officers,” Howell wrote, "represented a gross usurpation of power.”

The defendants have 30 days to file a notice of appeal; George Foote, longtime outside counsel for USIP, says he expects them to. “We are confident we will prevail on appeal, too,” says Foote in a comment to WIRED.

In the meantime, there’s the question of how to revert USIP assets back to the agency. “The headquarters have been, or are in the process of being, leased to the Department of Labor,” according to court documents. Not only that but the USIP's $25 million endowment—comprising private donations and appropriations—was transferred along with the building. The plaintiffs have no idea where that money went.

[hazbinsponsoredbyvee]

"Mel and I have been going through our archive of security footage, and we decided to share some of it with you (via her writing it up, of course). She'll try to share them mostly in order, but who fucking knows if that'll work out or not. Also, there's no telling how quickly she'll be getting these out, cause she's working on other projects, too. "This first one is from shortly after the 'Sponsored by Vee' fic and is an accounting of what happened immediately after Velvette, Valentino, and I signed the contract with the hotel. Specifically, breaking the news to some of the *cough* other residents. You'll also get a peek at us doing some of the work to set up this website. Enjoy."

Keep Your Enemies Closer

Vox didn't bother to knock when he arrived at the Hazbin Hotel because part of the point of signing the contract yesterday was that he had (more or less) free reign of the place. He was an official partner of the hotel - as were Valentino and Velvette, technically, but they didn't see the merits of this project as much as he did.

Standing behind the bar, Husk was the first person to notice his arrival. His eyebrows shot up in surprise before he scowled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Husk," Vox greeted him coolly, ignoring his question altogether as he walked up to lean against the bar. "Been a while. Get me my usual. And then you can tell Lucifer that I'm here. He's expecting me."

His eyes narrowed, a low growl spilling out at the order. "I ain't doing shit for you. You do know Alastor's just upstairs, right?"

"So what? You gonna tell him I'm here like a loyal pet?" he taunted.

"It is a little tempting," he admitted with a shrug. "There's always the hope you two will end up killing each other. But then again, I don't really feel like listening to you two bitch at each other like an old married couple."

"Hilarious," he sneered dryly.

"Oh, Mr. Vox!" a voice suddenly rang out, and Vox immediately straightened up, turning to face the Princess of Hell with a charming smile.

"Princess Charlie, a pleasure to finally meet you! How was your vacation?"

"It was great, thank you!" She rushed forward, shaking his hand energetically. Her girlfriend followed close behind her, keeping a careful eye on Vox. "Dad caught me up on everything you're doing for the hotel, and I'm really excited about working with you!"

"What?" Husk demanded, looking between them. "Tell me this is a joke."

"Nope," Vox answered silkily, popping the 'p'. "We signed a contract with Lucifer yesterday. The Vees are officially sponsors of the hotel."

"Charlie, this is a terrible idea. You should really talk to your father. Get him to void the contract."

"It's okay, Husk," Charlie assured. "He called and talked to me about it before they signed anything. And you know him, the contract was thorough. Valentino isn't even able to enter the property now, so Angel is even safer this way!"

"You don't know them like I do," Husk sighed.

"I don't like this any more than you do," Vaggie chimed in. "But after talking to Lucifer about it, even I have to admit that the hotel could use someone with his expertise. It's not ideal, but the contract is airtight. There shouldn't be any problems, and if there are, we'll handle it," she finished with a significant look to the Overlord.

"There won't be," Vox assured. "I would be an idiot to sign a contract with the Devil and then try to screw him over."

"If the shoe fits..." Husk muttered under his breath, and Vox gave an annoyed roll of his eyes.

Charlie swiftly put her hand on Vox's arm, ushering him away from the bar. "Why don't you wait in the lounge, and I'll go get my dad?"

"Sounds great," he agreed with a smile, allowing himself to be led to a small lounge off the main lobby.

He only had to wait a few minutes and then Charlie returned, now flanked by both her girlfriend and her father, who greeted Vox with a brilliant smile.

"Hello again! I have to say, I was kind of surprised to hear from you so soon. You really wasted no time getting to work."

"I told you, I approach all my projects with the utmost dedication," Vox reminded him, meeting his eyes with a suave smile. "I started work the second the contract was signed."

"Wow. You really didn't have to do that, you know. I wasn't expecting anything until the end of the week."

"Please, what better use of my time could there possibly be? You're worth every second," he assured, leaning in slightly. "So, let me show you what I've come up with? I assure you, you won't be disappointed."

Lucifer chuckled. "Oh, at this point, I don't think you can disappoint me."

A small gasp reminded them both that they were not alone in the room, and they both turned to see Charlie, one hand over her mouth and the other grabbing Vaggie's hand as she took a step back. "You know, I just remembered that we have to go take care of... um, something else! So, we'll leave you two to go over stuff, and Dad, you can fill me in later!"

Before either of them could respond, she had left the room, dragging her girlfriend behind her. Vox blinked. "What was that about?"

"I have no idea," Lucifer said, staring dumbfounded at the door for a second before he shook his head. "Well, you want to have a seat, and we can take a look at those website designs?"

They settled on the couch together and spent the next hour reviewing the mock-ups Vox had made for the hotel's website. Lucifer didn't hold back on telling him what he did and didn't like, which Vox appreciated because it helped him to know what direction to go in, but he also wasn't a total dick about it, like some clients could be. But speaking of total dicks...

"Just what is going on here?" a voice emanated from the shadows in the corner of the room, and then a moment later, Alastor stepped into the light, glaring at them both through narrowed eyes.

Vox would be lying if he said he hadn't been looking forward to this moment since Lucifer had agreed to his proposition - fucking with Alastor wasn't the only reason he'd wanted to partner with the hotel, but it was definitely a contributing factor. Still, he hadn't seen his rival in person in a little over seven and a half years, and for a second, he was completely overwhelmed by a barrage of conflicting emotions. Why was he still in love with him after all this time?! It made him want to kill him all the more.

Thankfully, Lucifer needed no time to gather himself, and he wasted no time responding with a smirk. "Oh, did I forget to tell you? Vox and his friends have partnered with the hotel." He rested a hand on Vox's shoulder, and the touch helped to ground the television demon in the moment. "He's already proving to be such a great help - he's designing us a website and everything! I think he's proving to be the greatest asset the hotel has!"

A gleeful, mocking smile cut through Vox's screen. He knew Lucifer was just trying to piss off Alastor, but he could enjoy that even more than the compliment itself. Fuck, he liked the guy more every time he opened his mouth.

"The hotel doesn't need a website," Alastor instantly objected.

"Uh, if you want to reach people in this century, you do," Vox scoffed. "But I wouldn't expect someone as outdated as you to understand."

Alastor's full attention shifted solely to Vox, and the television demon's screen glowed a little brighter as he smirked. "I see you still think that putting out as much useless noise as possible is the way to gain traction."

"It's not useless noise, it's marketing."

"It's unnecessary. As are you," he added, leaning forward with a mocking grin.

Vox scowled. "You just hate the fact that I'm making you irrelevant. As usual."

"Please, you're as delusional as ever. I suppose I'm not surprised that you fell for his drivel," Alastor snidely addressed Lucifer. "But let me assure you, he is not needed here."

"Well, that's not your call to make, bellhop," Lucifer retorted dryly. "And the decision's already been made. The contract was signed yesterday."

"Then rip it up," he hissed, waving a hand dismissively.

"No. Charlie and I agreed this partnership is for the best for the hotel. If you don't like it, then leave. It's not like you're actually needed, now that I'm here."

Vox made absolutely no effort to cover up his derisive laugh, enjoying the way Alastor's ears flicked in irritation. But of course, the Radio Demon compensated for his agitation with a sharp smile trained on Vox. "Wouldn't that be ironic? You insert yourself into the hotel just to get close to me and then I turn around and leave?"

"Who said I'm here to get close to you?" Vox demanded with a scoff. "Why would I care about your washed-up ass when I now have an alliance with the King of Hell himself?" He rested his forearm on Lucifer's shoulder, leaning against him. "If I want to get close to anyone here, it's obviously him. Respectfully, of course," he added with a grin.

Lucifer laughed good-naturedly, a hint of a smug smirk on his lips. "Of course. Can't say I blame you."

Alastor's eyes narrowed to slivers. "You may be able to convince him of anything with a simple stroke of his ego, but I know you better than that, old pal."

"Oh, fuck off," Vox groaned exasperatedly.

"Could you just let us get back to work already?" Lucifer complained. "The grownups are talking."

"And do you even know what you're talking about?" Alastor shot back. "I've been with the hotel longer than you have. If you insist on this ridiculous website, I will be far more knowledgeable about how to represent us." He hit Vox with his microphone staff as he spoke, pushing him aside so that he could wedge himself on the two-seater couch between them.

"Hey!" Lucifer protested as he was shoved unceremoniously off the couch.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Vox griped, even though he wasn't entirely opposed to the way Alastor was now pressed against his side. "You want to help with the website?"

"Well, I'm not leaving it to you. So, go on, show me your little designs."

"Maybe if you show me your bedroom," he suggested in a low voice, fixing Alastor with a sly smirk as he slid an arm along the back of the couch. Vox may have long since accepted that he'd ever get what he wanted from Alastor, but he was still holding out hope for a good hate fuck one of these days. There was still something between them, after all, even if Alastor was incapable of actually caring about anyone other than himself. At some point this tension between them had to snap, right? But whether that ended with them fucking or one of them finally killing the other remained to be seen.

Alastor made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. "Never going to happen."

Lucifer grumbled under his breath, oblivious to their exchange as he walked around to sit on the arm of the couch beside Vox while the television demon pulled back up his holograms.

Predictably, Alastor was much more critical of his designs than Lucifer had been, and naturally, he was a total asshole about it. But it was nice that Vox had Lucifer to back him up on the things they both agreed on, and even when the fallen angel did agree with Alastor, he was at least nicer about it.

"I don't see why you and your compatriots are featured here," Alastor voiced once he had run out of other things to nitpick.

Vox rolled his eyes. "Because I'm here to make your lives easier - or at least the lives of those who actually matter here. So, we'll be helping answer people's questions, and all that. Well, it'll mostly be me; they're not as dedicated to this project as I am."

"Yeah, I kind of got that impression," Lucifer remarked. "Especially, uh... Valentino, was it?"

"Yeah, he's not thrilled I decided to pursue this partnership," he admitted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He blames the hotel for taking his favorite whore away, so he's sulking about it. Sorry if he gave you attitude yesterday."

"No, it's fine," he waved off. "I mean, I definitely can't say I like the guy, but it's not like I'll have to deal with him much. I was just a little surprised you're with someone like him."

"Well, it's not like Vox can get anyone else," Alastor laughed cruelly. "He has to settle for the bottom of the barrel because Valentino's the only one who will give him the time of day!" He gave Vox's antennae a teasing flick as he spoke.

Furious sparks of electricity crackled along Vox's frame as he whipped his screen towards the Radio Demon. "Fuck you!"

He just laughed, his smile growing even more delighted at the reaction he had evoked.

"I find that hard to believe," Lucifer objected matter-of-factly. "Vox is successful, competent, and handsome. I'm sure there's plenty of people out there who would be interested in him!"

Vox's anger faded at the praise, and he redirected his attention towards Lucifer with a grin. "You're not wrong. But I work long hours, so I don't have much time for all that. Valentino's just more convenient."

"Well, I still say you can do better than him, but I get it. I've thought about trying to get back out there, but... heh, easier said than done.... Having someone was definitely easier. Not that it was about what was easy with Lilith, I didn't mean it like-"

"Oh, please don't start waxing on about your failed marriage," Alastor exasperatedly interrupted his rambling. "If we could get back on topic. You're going to be answering questions on behalf of the hotel?" he demanded of Vox.

"You'll all have access too," he explained impatiently. "Not that I expect you to do anything with it. You can fade into the background where you belong, while the rest of us answer the people's questions."

"That won't be happening. Assuming anyone actually uses this thing, I'm sure they'll want to hear from me, anyway!"

"Doubt it. But I'm fully expecting to handle most of it myself," he continued, turning back to Lucifer. "You shouldn't have to worry about it too much, if you don't want to."

"I don't want to put too much on you," Lucifer protested. "You were just saying how you work a lot."

Vox smiled and reached up to give his thigh a reassuring squeeze. "This is my work. Don't worry about it, it's nothing I can't handle."

Lucifer's gaze darted down to the hand on his thigh, an unreadable look passing over his face, and Vox quickly snatched his hand away, worried that he might have gone too far. It wasn't unusual for him to flirt a little in business negotiations and similar situations, using it as a tool to get his way. But with Lucifer, he'd started to find himself pushing that envelope more than he normally would, flirting with him without even thinking about it. When he'd first realized it, he'd tried to stop, but it wasn't like Lucifer really seemed to mind, so he admittedly hadn't tried that hard. He shouldn't take that as permission to touch him willy-nilly, though; he was still the Devil, still his King.

Vox cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered.

Lucifer blinked at him, and a soft smile touched his face. "Oh, you're fine. I just, uh, don't want you to feel like you have to handle everything. I don't mind answering questions, and I know Charlie won't, either. I'm sure some of the others will be up to it, too."

"Right. Great." He nodded. "But I'll still be able to help. I'm not just building you this website and then leaving you alone with it."

"I appreciate it." He smiled at him before he shifted his focus back to the hologram in front of them.

Vox took the opportunity to study him, searching for any sign of discomfort, any sign that he had crossed a line. He really didn't want to ruin this alliance he had just gone through all the effort to forge, and also... he enjoyed Lucifer's company. They got along surprising well, and Vox would prefer not to lose that. Thankfully, Lucifer didn't seem tense or upset. There was still a gentle smile on his face, and a strand of hair had gotten loose from under his hat, falling into his face in a way that Vox had to admit was pretty endearing. It was so not fair that the Devil himself was so damn attractive.

"Vox, are you listening to me?" Alastor snapped.

"What?" he looked over at him, doing his best to suppress a blush he felt rising to his screen. How long had he just been staring at Lucifer? "Course not. Why would I care what you have to say?"

Lucifer snorted, while Alastor scowled.

"Actually, I think we've covered just about everything," Vox continued before Alastor could repeat whatever he had said, which of course only annoyed him more. "I'll send over the final design for you and Charlie to review, and then we can go ahead with the launch," he told Lucifer as he got to his feet.

"Sounds great!" Lucifer jumped up with a grin. "I'll walk you out."

Vox paused, smirking back at Alastor as he also stood. "Guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other now."

"Yes, I suppose we will," he agreed, and a dangerous smile spread over his face as he stepped closer until they were mere inches apart. "I think I'm going to have fun making you regret this little business venture of yours."

He huffed a laugh, refusing to back down. "Give it your best shot." His eyes darted down to his lips, tantalizingly close, but Alastor was already dissolving into shadow with just the echo of a deranged laugh.

"Prick," Vox muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to Lucifer, falling into step beside him.

"Sorry about all that," Lucifer sighed.

"I'm used to it." He could have added that a good part of him enjoyed their back-and-forth and it was one of the reasons he was even here, but he figured that was best to keep to himself.

"I had fun, though. Despite the party crasher," Lucifer continued as they stepped outside. "You have some great ideas. I think I'm going to like working with you."

"Likewise." Vox met his eyes with a grin and was caught off guard by a sudden, unbidden urge to kiss him. Oh, fuck. He already had his sights set on one unattainable guy; he did not need to add another to that list. He coughed and quickly turned away from him. "I'll be in touch!"

"I look forward to it."

Lucifer lingered outside the hotel, watching Vox condense into electricity and jump into one of the nearby drones, then he shook himself out of his reverie and stepped back into the hotel.

[amazingmsme]

Is The Bucket Worth It, Stanley?

AN: Bear with me as I try & catch up on these fics, I've been working on homework a lot. This was really fun to write, the Narrator just opens up a lot of fun possiblities with his powers! Love messing around with that! Here's day 17!

The Narrator watched Stanley with annoyance, tapping his foot. He'd been more obsessed with a stupid bucket than with him. And that was unacceptable, quite frankly. He'd made it clear that he too was interested in the bucket! Yes, Stanley made it look so fascinating that even he was curious as to its unique properties.

"Stanley, I think it's my turn with the bucket now," he said, garnering no response. "Hm? Stanley, don't you agree? I'd like to see the bucket." Stanley hugged the bucket closer.

The Narrator sighed, rubbing at his temple. "Look, I'm not going to steal it, I just want to look at it! I can do that, right?" He was met with a skeptical gaze. "Oh alright fine. You can have the bucket for one more minute, but I'd really appreciate it if you shared after that." He thought he was being rather reasonable.

He left the room for only a moment, but when he popped his head back in, the bucket was nowhere in sight.

"Wha- Where's the bucket?" he asked in shock. Stanley merely shrugged. "What do you mean you don't know? It was just here!"

He caught sight of the tug at the corner of Stanley's lips. Oh, so that's how he wanted to play it...

"Stanley, you have until the count of three to give it back, and then I'll be forced to take drastic measures," he warned. The warning went unheeded.

"One." No answer. "Two." Stanley stared at him, arms crossed. "Three." Okay, they were doing this.

The Narrator sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them nonchalantly. "You're really forcing my hand here. Last chance," he offered him a way out. Just cough up the bucket now and you won't have to worry. Stanley was always a stubborn one.

"Alright, be that way." Before Stanley could question him, the Narrator spoke once more in a clear, deep voice.

"Stanley was in the dark." Suddenly, he couldn't see a thing. A pitch black void stretched before him in every direction. "He tried to move, but found he was tied to a chair." A chill crept up Stanley's spine upon hearing those words, and suddenly he was no longer standing. He sat in a chair, arms and legs tied down.

"He tested the bonds, but they were tight. Not so tight as to hurt, mind you, just tight enough to keep him secure. And the rope wasn't rough or fibrous either, it was soft like silk." As he spoke, Stanley realized he was right: the ropes weresoft and didn't cut into his skin.

"A single light turned on overhead. It wasn't very bright, but in the complete darkness it might as well have been blinding. A silhouette came into view, allowing him a glimpse of his captor." The Narrator stood before him, an incredibly smug smirk in place. Stanley threw his head back, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Hello again. Now I just need you to answer one simple question. Where did you hide that bucket?" He didn't know why he expected an answer.

"Oh well, you leave me no choice. Always the hard way with you, right Stanley?" he teased. He pulled his hands out from behind his back, wiggling his fingers in the air. "Feel like answering now?"

Stanley's eyes widened and he gulped, but still he shook his head. The Narrator smiled widely.

"Good." He let his hands connect with Stanley's torso, vibrating against his ribcage. His captive jolted away from the touch, biting down on his lip to prevent any laughter from escaping. The Narrator tutted and shook his head.

"Now Stanley, you already know this won't stop until you give me what I want. So I suggest you either cough it up, or get comfortable," he said, not a hint of sympathy in his voice. The Narrator heard a quiet whine slip past his sealed lips and smirked, tracing maddening circles over Stanley's sides.

He slowly ramped up the speed of his fingers, prodding between the spaces of his ribs and scratching lightly over the bones. With a snort, the dam broke and Stanley's bubbly laugh filled the air. He squirmed in his seat, twisting side to side and arching his back, but that only pushed his body into the Narrator's hands. He yelped when his own movements sent wiggling fingers straight into his pits.

"Feel like sharing with the class?" the Narrator asked, but Stanley shook his head. "Okay, more tickles for you then," he said, not even trying to should anything but gleeful.

He worked his way back down, tweaking each rib as he went. Every pinch drew out a different shrill sound and twitch. The Narrator noticed the way the pace of his giggles quickened any time he strayed too close to his belly, and he couldn't let the discovery go unexplored.

"Oh, what this? Does someone have a ticklish tummy?" he started, drawing circles on either side of his stomach. Stanley ducked his head to look away, as if to hide from the teasing.  He shook his head, adamantly denying  it. He was proven wrong when the Narrator wormed a finger in his bellybutton, causing an ear splitting shriek. 

"I'll ask again: where did you put the bucket?" he asked, squeezing his hips in a downright torturous way. Stanley bucked and cackled. The Narrator chuckled and leaned in to whisper, "I know you'll give up sooner or later. But I think we're both hoping it's later." His voice was a deep purr that sent chills up Stanley's spine.

He whined at the accuracy of the assumption, lip trembling in an adorable pout as he still tried to hold back his reactions. The Narrator shook his head and tsked.

"Now now Stanley, don't try and play tough. It only makes me want to break you even more," he taunted, drilling his thumbs in his hip dips. Stanley bucked and thrashed about, but those hands might as well have been glued to his skin.

His laugh turned to breathy frantic giggles when the Narrator began scratching lightly across his lower stomach. He slipped a finger inside his waistband, wiggling against warm sensitive skin. Stanley flushed and let out a giggly yelp.

The Narrator pulled away, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. But that didn't mean he had to be nice to him.

"Stanley knew what he had to do if he wanted this to stop. Either he was so fucking stubborn he refused to give up a metal bucket, or he loved this so much, he wasn't quite ready for it to end. He could feel nervous dread- or was it excitement? building in the pit of his stomach as he saw his captor reach into his jacket and pull out a long fluffy feather," he narrated this song and dance they found themselves in. He hadn't even been wearing a jacket, the idea just came to him. The wide eyed look Stanley gave him was more than worth it.

"So what'll it be? Mercy? Or more?" he asked, twirling the feather between his fingers. Stanley gulped, barely containing giddy snickers as he shook his head. "More it is then."

The Narrator brandished the tool with a flourish and swept it across his neck from ear to ear, as if he was slitting his throat. It sure as hell felt like he was being murdered.

He fluttered the soft plumes over his ears, sending him into giddy, shrill laughter and breathy snorts.

The Narrator leaned in to speak directly in his ear while he tortured the other with the feather. "As you continue to laugh yourself silly, I want you to really think: is the bucket worth it?"

[epickiya722]

Let me talk a second about AFO and how interesting find AFO and his view of Yorichi and Kudou. Like, I think AFO genuinely does "love" his brother but not really how regular people do, he doesn't love him the way one loves another human being with a will of his own, but the way one loves an expensive painting, a property for you posses and admire, keeping it secured and away from anyone wanting to take it from you. So of course it is Kudou's fault that he died even though he was responsible, he stole him away. If he hadn't reached for him, if he hadn't offered a taste of freedom and hope, it wouldn't have happened. It isn't his fault, it's everyone else's for resisting against him

NOTE: This was sent in BEFORE 407 leaks! I just waited just in case we got something else!

...a property for you possess and admire, keeping it secured and away from anyone wanting to take it from you...

You were kinda right about that!

And adding this bit from the recent ask you sent me!

As someone with siblings, I have seen this first hand and it is like that, huh?

From what we can tell from leaks is that AFO treated Yoichi with disinterest while also with the mentality of having something just to be having something (someone in this case).

It's like having a shirt you have yet to wear but you still keep it because you don't want anyone else to have it.

But the moment someone else has interest in the shirt, it's like "no, it's mine, I bought it, you can't have it", and then you still don't wear the shirt.

AFO kept Yoichi locked away like a toy until Kudou came along. Of course, he reacted the way he did. Yoichi is his brother and even if he didn't show him any affection or any other positive treatment as a brother should, he be damned if someone else gives him that positive treatment even if it's different.

It's like "I may not care for him like that, but I don't want you to".

He didn't want Yoichi to be free from him. To rebel against him while everyone else followed in line. Because if Yoichi had lived, I figure he would have been AFO's greatest opponent as he is his twin brother.

The worst enemy to have is someone who is family.

And honestly, what if it's also because he's lonely without Yoichi? Sure, over the years he gained followers and whatnot, but what if AFO having others like Machia and Dr. Garaki at his side was to fill that void Yoichi's death left?

It's not the same, but it's something.

[callmemonster68]

the blood moonlight | y.jw - jungwon

Y/N’s life changes when she takes a job at a secluded mansion, organizing the library of seven mysterious vampires. With Jungwon, the hottest moments unfold as she faces danger, passion, and a rival clan under the blood moonlight.

paring: vampire!jungwon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 1,846

warnings: nsfw content, unprotected sex, blood/gore

Y/N never imagined her ordinary life in a quiet town would be transformed by fate. It all began when she accepted a job at an old mansion deep in the forest, tasked with caring for the personal library of its new residents. The mansion was home to seven mysterious men, each exuding a dark charm and harboring deep secrets.

Jake, the leader, radiated authority and charisma. Jay, enigmatic and seductive, sparked Y/N’s curiosity with his intense gazes. Jungwon, youthful in appearance but with wisdom spanning ages, had a kindness that contrasted with his true nature. Sunoo’s radiant smile masked a darker side, while Niki, the most playful, teased her with jokes and piercing looks. Sunghoon was cold and reserved, his silent intensity impossible to ignore. Lastly, Heeseung, a mix of sweetness and danger, seemed to be the bridge that united them all.

Over time, Y/N noticed they weren’t merely attractive and mysterious. There was something supernatural about them: the way they always seemed to know what she was thinking, their inhuman speed, and their aversion to sunlight.

When the truth was revealed—that they were vampires hiding from humanity—Y/N should have run. But the connection between her and the seven was irresistible. Each of them seemed to fill a void within her, and their attraction to her was equally overwhelming.

Life in the mansion grew more intimate as they protected and courted her, sharing moments that transcended the physical, diving into deep emotional bonds. Amid their passion, they faced external threats. Rival vampire clans sought Y/N, believing her blood possessed unique properties capable of empowering weaker vampires.

As the bond between the seven and Y/N deepened, the mansion became not just a home but a refuge against outside dangers. They would face threats, battles, and their own conflicted emotions to protect what they had built together.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Jungwon was the most cautious when approaching Y/N. He wanted to ensure she felt comfortable with the idea of being with someone like him—someone who carried centuries of history and a darker side. Their first time happened on a quiet night in the mansion’s garden. They talked for hours under the stars, and Jungwon confessed he was in love with her. When Y/N took the initiative and kissed him, he responded with tenderness and restrained passion, as if wanting to make that moment last forever. Their first time was filled with gentleness, marked by soft touches and an emotional connection that brought them even closer.

Jungwon slid his fingers over her hand, observing her with a calm intensity that seemed to hold entire universes. Jungwon: You make me feel human again, Y/N, (he whispered, his voice laden with emotion) After so long in the darkness… you are my light. (she smiled, her eyes shining under the moonlight)

Y/N: And you make me feel safe, Jungwon. With you, I can be myself. (he leaned in slowly, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, filled with restrained desire. When he pulled away, his eyes locked on hers, warmth evident in his expression)

Jungwon: You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this��� to touch you, to kiss you. I was afraid of scaring you, but now I can’t hold back anymore.

Y/N placed her hand on his face, stroking it tenderly.

Y/N: I was never afraid of you, Jungwon. I just want you to show me everything you feel. (her words seemed to shatter the last remnants of his restraint. He pulled her closer, his arms encircling her securely as his lips trailed kisses down her neck)

Jungwon: You are so perfect, Y/N, (he murmured against her skin, his voice low and heavy with desire) Every part of you fascinates me… and tonight, I want to make you feel as special as you are to me.

His touches were gentle but purposeful, every movement showing how much he adored her. He laid her down on the soft grass of the garden, his eyes shining like stars as he gazed at her.

Jungwon: I will never hurt you. I want you to know that, (he said, holding her hand) But I also want you to know how much you make me lose control (when she pulled him closer, Jungwon smiled softly, though there was a growing passion in his gaze)

Jungwon: I will worship you tonight, Y/N. Every moment, every breath of yours will be mine.

And he kept that promise. Every kiss, every touch was filled with care and devotion, making it clear that being with her was more than desire—it was pure, absolute love. From that moment on, every touch, every kiss reflected the devotion he felt. There was no rush, just a genuine desire to fully share the moment.

Jungwon positioned himself over Y/N, their bodies pressed together as they kissed fervently, their hands exploring each other, whispers spilling from both of their lips. Jungwon’s hands found the hem of Y/N’s dress; he was eager to see her bare, but he wouldn’t proceed without her consent.

Jungwon: May I? (he asked)

Y/N: You have my full permission. Do whatever you want with me. (she replied with a sweet smile)

Jungwon nodded, smiling back, then removed her dress, leaving her only in her panties, already soaked with anticipation. Motivated even more by this, he quickly discarded his own clothes. He placed a tender kiss on her lips before trailing kisses down to her clothed core, sending shivers through Y/N. Grasping the waistband of her panties with both hands, he looked into her eyes for permission before removing them.

Positioning his hardened member at her entrance, he leaned in for another kiss, this one even softer, filled with emotion. Slowly, he entered her, her walls gripping him tightly, eliciting a groan from him during the kiss. Once he was fully inside, he intertwined their hands and began to move—slowly and deeply—his eyes never leaving hers, constant praises spilling from his lips.

As Y/N neared her climax, she wrapped her legs around him, stopping his movements.

Y/N: Please, let me worship you too. (with that, Y/N gently flipped him over, changing their position. Now that Y/N was on top, she set the rhythm, her movements fast and intense from the start, drawing the most beautiful expressions and sounds from Jungwon)

Y/N: You’re so beautiful. I can’t stop admiring you. (Jungwon, too lost in pleasure to speak, pulled her into a messy kiss, promises and praises spilling from their lips as Y/N rode him mercilessly. Y/N reached her climax first but didn’t slow her movements) Come for me, Jungwon.

Jungwon: I’ll fill you, mark you as mine.

With that, Jungwon released inside her, a breathy moan escaping his lips. Still connected, Y/N rested her head on his chest. As the night melted into the early hours of the morning, Jungwon wrapped her in his arms, murmuring sweet words as the moon continued to illuminate the garden.

Jungwon: Thank you for trusting me, (he whispered, kissing her forehead)

Y/N smiled, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Y/N: Always, Jungwon. Always.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

The nights at the mansion were growing darker. The rival clan hadn’t given up on capturing Y/N, believing her blood to be unique—something that could grant unimaginable power to vampires. Despite all the protection offered by Jake, Jay, Jungwon, Sunoo, Niki, Sunghoon, and Heeseung, an ambush caught them by surprise.

Y/N was gravely wounded during the attack, blood slowly dripping as she collapsed into Jake’s arms. Her eyes filled with tears, but she managed to murmur:

Y/N: I don’t want to die…

The mansion fell silent as the seven vampires gathered around her, their faces etched with despair. They knew there was only one way to save her—to turn her into one of them. But it wasn’t a simple process. It wasn’t just about drinking their blood; it was crossing a barrier that would bind their souls forever.

Jake was the first to speak, his voice firm but laden with pain:

Jake: If we do this, there’s no turning back. You’ll become like us, and the world will never be the same for you.

Fighting against the pain and the darkness threatening to consume her, Y/N looked at each of them.

Y/N: I trust you. I want to stay with you… forever.

Jay was the first to kneel beside her, his intense gaze locking onto hers. He made a small cut on his wrist, letting the blood drip onto Y/N’s lips. One by one, the others followed the same ritual, each drop of blood becoming part of her.

When it was Heeseung’s turn, the last of them, he hesitated briefly, holding Y/N’s face in his hands.

Heeseung: This will hurt, but I promise I’ll stay by your side the whole time.

He leaned in to lightly bite her neck, sealing the ritual. The pain was followed by a wave of heat spreading through Y/N’s body, accompanied by a sense of rebirth.

The transformation was quick but intense. Y/N screamed, her body arching as if being ripped from her humanity. Her eyes flew open, glowing a deep red before returning to their natural color. She gasped, feeling every sense heightened: the scent of the mansion’s old wood, the sound of the wind outside, and most of all, the seven hearts around her beating in unison.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

The transformation brought more than power; it brought connection. She could feel their thoughts, emotions, and the depth of love each felt for her. But with that came an intense thirst—a hunger no mortal food could satisfy.

Jake helped her stand, holding her hand firmly.

Jake: You’re one of us now. Strong, immortal… but it comes at a price. Your thirst will be relentless, and the world will see you as a monster.

Y/N looked at him and the others, her determination growing.

Y/N: I accept the price. Because with you, I fear nothing.

As the full moon illuminated the mansion, the seven vampires surrounded her, each vowing to protect and guide her in this new existence. They knew the rival clan was still a threat, but now, with Y/N as one of them, their group was complete and more powerful than ever.

Her first hunt that night, guided by Sunoo and Niki, ended with a piercing scream echoing through the forest. The transformation was complete, but something about her blood seemed different. Jungwon, observing her from afar, realized she wasn’t an ordinary vampire. Something in her blood made her a unique predator, and he knew this was just the beginning of something far greater.

What destiny lay ahead now that Y/N had crossed into immortality? No one knew for sure, but the mystery lingered like mist under the moonlight.

Their story, far from over, had only just begun.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[kanaloasteele]

Kanaloa and Maeve - First Meeting

Where: Outskirts of the town

When: Morning/midday

The morning air was refreshingly cold as it beat against Maeve's flushed, freckled cheeks. It beat down on her naturally warmer body and instead of tiring her, it vitalised her.

Leaves in the trees atop the cliff twitched and strained against the vicious breeze, threads of golden hair joining them in their desperate rebellion, as Maeve stood up from her crouched position. Muscles and veins in her arms rippled and flexed as the blonde smoothly nocks an arrow, and pulls the bow back, knuckles almost brushing against her cheekbone.

Barefoot, and clad in leather pants, and an ornate leather chest piece that bore the trademark ocean inspired detailing of Maeve's own print. On her hips hung an axe, and on her back she wore a quiver with the same ornate detailing that could be found on her leather chest plate. Some of her waist length golden waves was still secured behind her face with a leather tie, but most of it had fallen free, tangled and wild, framing her face like a golden haze.

The poor creature that Maeve had her sights on was a distant descendent of the Griffin. It sat nestled in an appropriated birds nest, snoring, quite unaware of it's impending end. Time had not been kind to this branch of the species, they were only just slightly larger than Maeve's own hands. They also had almost no self defensive properties besides concealing itself. It's thin, ragged wings in no way resembled the eagles, and the fluffy tail appeared more catlike than lionlike. The sub-species were no match for the fast developing world around them and as such, the dwindling species was very close to becoming just another myth if they were lucky. So few knew of them that it was not common knowledge that the saliva from this animal was potent for potions, and extremely valuable.

"Poof" Maeve exhaled as she stepped nonchalantly off the tree branch, simultaneously releasing the bow. As she fell to the ground, her arrow found it's target and while two bare feet hit the ground, a sad corpse landed hardly a yard away. A cloud of dirt and dust billowed about it's sad frame.

Without delay, the werewolf deftly darted to her catch, quickly sweeping it up into a pouch secured to her hip. At one point in her three hundred years, Maeve had whispered a small prayer for every animal life that she took. Over the years however, her thanks and apologies made less and less sese, specifically because she no longer hunted and killed out of necessity but out of maintaining her lifestyle. Her apologies and thanks seemed insincere and void of any intention. Instead, she simply sighed deeply and began cleaning the retrieved bow. She was still polishing the lethal point when she heard a disturbance behind her.

Never one to leave herself vulnerable, Maeve turned smoothly and casually, to greet or confront, continuing to clean the fresh blood off her arrow with a cloth. At five foot, six inches, the blonde was tall, and her snugly fitted leather attire exposed dense muscles dotted with faint, golden hair, the blonde could present as an intimidating presence. Certainly the weaponry did not help, but Maeve's own hooded expression did nothing at all to make her appear more approachable.

@maevemedeina

One of the things that Kanaloa had come to appreciate since moving to Destarin was the fact that his day started when he wished it to.  In reality what that meant was that he was up just as early as he was on campaign, but he didn't have someone breathing down his neck the second he woke up.

The crisp morning air was a familiar sensation for the berserker as he breathed deeply before settling into his normal stretching routine.  While he might not have superior officers screaming at him to start training, his routine was something that had been built into him for decades now.  It didn't matter how much he had to drink the night prior, he was always up at the crack of dawn to begin his workouts.

Pulling his long dark locks back in a loose leather strip, Kanaloa settled a tight leather vest across his bare torso, the slight tinkling sounds of metal tapping together as he cinched the weighted vest firmly against his body.  A creation of his own design; his vest, bracers and greaves were made of tight leather lined with slim pockets that he filled with bars of steel from his forge.  Each piece was customizable in how much metal he placed in the pouches before he began his run every morning.  With this being a full workout, there was enough metal in all the pieces to easily triple Kanaloa's body weight.

Starting at the docks, the first lap around the city was a nice warm-up but as he entered his subsequent laps he began to pick up the pace until he was running at his top speed around the city.  The docks were the worst to navigate as he had to bob and weave through the crowds so that neither himself nor his weapons caught on anything.

Sweat glistened on the man's body as his feet pounded against the ground, booted footfalls alerting those around him to his presence.  As he was finishing out his final lap his senses screamed a warning and he came to a skidding stop in a clearing, his faze falling on a blonde woman cleaning an arrow after a kill.

The man's hand slipped down to the hilt of the Da Dao broadsword on his hip, his other hand rising to grasp what appeared to be the haft of another weapon strapped to his back.  He could tell from a glance that he towered over the woman by at least a foot, but that didn't mean much when supernatural species came into play.

Taking a few breaths to calm his breathing and the fight response it triggered, Kanaloa straightened up from his fighting crouch and released the grip he had on his sword, angling it behind him instead.  “Apologies.  I didn't expect anyone else out here so early.  Don't generally run into folks out here when I run.”  Though he seemed relaxed, the berserker was never far from a violent response if necessary.  Too many mistakes could happen if you let your guard fully down.

[deadtothefuture]

"The theory of ungendered being occupies a decisive place in Afro-pessimism. The elements which make up this theory are law, language, kinship, value, naming, and chattel slavery. Now, through this diversity of terms, we quickly discover what the ambivalence of ungendered being consists in: a mothering performed by a no-longer-woman, but also a paternity that has no name. The ungendered is the image in which property represents kinship, and, better still, reifies its value. At the same time, the no-longer-woman is the image in which the product of the womb (as a commodity) or racial-species activity appears to define the epoch of modernity. The product is the property of a great winnowing, is representative of a legal subtraction, the belonging of the no-longer-woman and who is fathered by the man-without-paternity. The product of the slave womb, without any paternal metaphor, is a symbol fragmented by mastery and law. In so many countless ways, such offspring is contrary to both common sense and human nature, for it reproduces descent as monstration and chaos. The ungendered is severed from generation, and yet reproduces itself as the cut that severs; but every child it brings into the world seems to it stillborn, symbolically dead, and yet alive in its death.

[...]

The slave has no symbolic name and is merely the effect, in thought and culture as such, of a subtraction that diverts life from its telos or path in descent, kinship, and reproduction. The ongoing uncertainty—that blackness has no symbolic name—becomes the science of racist culture. Whence the certainty: blackness is a life that cannot make promises, cannot give its consent, or keep its word, and cannot show that it is not without sense (for all depend on the symbolic pact of sexuation with the signifier). Finally, the ungendered cannot then know who or what it is. Only a knowledge of whiteness can secure itself as symbolic property, blackness is thus forced to think of itself as a techne without knowledge, because it can only identify itself with reproduction as a method and surrender itself to relations of terroristic production. Knowledge is productive life against the unreproducible life, the life which cuts blackness from life, but only because whiteness is presupposed to be the most valued reproducible life, for it alone is knowledge.

[...]

So how can the ungendered be represented in black critical theory; as a void, as a less than nothing? Or something else again, queerness or radical feminism? But the ungendered is no more to be found among object choices than among sexual difference: everywhere there is the ungendered, there is no sexual relation. The ungendered subject is the end of gender itself, species activity, sexual culture, and its movement."

– David Marriott, Lacan Noir: Lacan and Afropessimism

[kariachi]

Random: While there are plenty of words in Imperial Erinaen that, as long as you speak some Erinaen language, you're probably going to be able to figure out, just due to how the language was originally developed, there's two that are damn near identical in every Erinaen language.

'Qhoq', a generic term for non-aerial predators, and 'Qgiq', a generic term for aerial predators.

This is because no matter where you're from, these words always come from the same instinctive alarm calls that have kept Erinaens for time immemorial. You might get changes in tone or emphasis, but the sound combination itself doesn't change. Even Erinaens who didn't grow up speaking Erinaen languages, while not knowing exactly what these calls mean, have been shown to experience heightened levels of stress and anxiety upon hearing them at volume when compared to other non-understood words uttered with the same tone and volume.

Alarm calls are common among Erinaens' evolutionary relatives. Among Erinaens themselves different areas vary in whether individuals have the specific job of keeping watch or whether there's a social expectation that upon seeing something you sound the alarm, but however it's done once an alarm call goes out one learns from an early age to sound it yourself, making sure that it makes its way around the colony. This is part of why Erinaens don't historically worry much about keeping other Erinaens out of their homes- alongside some very loose property laws- when an alarm call goes off it's generally expected that people are going to beeline for the nearest safe location. Whether that's a business, a bathroom, a home, doesn't really matter when you're trying not to die. In fact refusing to allow individuals to take shelter in your home when you can safely do so is one of the things most likely to get you chased out of a colony.

Any colony of a decent size has people whose entire profession involves keeping track of local predators and attempting to keep them from entering the colony proper. Common methods are setting and maintaining a border of items, scents, etc that discourage them from approaching (think an equivalent to farmers using bees to keep elephants from their crops, or stringing up prices of metal to spook birds), but may also include mobbing a predator nesting or otherwise keeping territory too close for comfort. Only rarely are predators actually killed, as it tends to be more effective to just keep a predator to the outskirts than to keep having to go out hunting predators each time one tries to fill a void. Especially when as many things hunt you as Erinaens deal with.

Still, alarm calls aren't unusual to hear in colonies- you can never guarantee things will work, or that you'll catch every predator before it finds the colony proper- and play a vital role in maintaining the health and safety of the community. Truthfully the most at risk one is of predation is on the outskirts of and outside the colony itself, and when outside during daylight hours. In all these cases it's a matter of having fewer individuals around to notice a predator before it strikes, meaning your less likely to get an alarm sounded. Adding to this, when out of the main portion of the colony one is less likely to have a safe spot to hide available, and more likely to have to rely on their quills for protection. They're handy, but not all of the Erinaen's predators are affected by them, the more specialized having long since evolved resistances. And in daylight most individuals out and about will be those who woke up to use the bathroom, making them more vulnerable as they may still be groggy.

In the end, even with all attempts at security, predation is one of the major causes of death among Erinaens, with those most commonly taken- to the surprise of nobody with a sense for ecology- being children, the ill, and the disabled, plus individuals who work outside of the colony itself. They have a real rate of predation deaths.

Predation is estimated to be the cause of up to 15% of lasting deaths among Erinaens on their homeworld. This is second only to falling, estimated to cause upwards of 23%, as far as specific causes of death go. The numbers in these cases skew heavily towards children and teens, alongside, as mentioned above, the ill and disabled. The majority of deaths otherwise can be attributed to foul play, chronic illness, and injury.

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Anti-Roads Movement

he 1990s saw a radical anti-roads movement in the UK. In the 1970s, the Friends of The Earth and Greenpeace had attracted many green activists to their populist-activist environmentalism. But by the 1980s this had degenerated into professional lobbying of governments and corporations with activists becoming members/supporters who raised or gave money but did little else.

The void was filled by Earth First! (EF!) in Britain: a radical ecology group committed to direct action and grassroots organisation transplanted from its parent organisation in America (see Organise #26 and #28 for analysis of EF! in America).

In Britain EF! was heavily-influenced by radical liberal protest and the animal rights movement. From these it inherited militant moralism and the tactics of collective direct action, lobbying, publicity stunts and non-violent civil disobedience. EF! has adopted non-violence as a principle (rather than as a tactic). The justification is that it gives a good media image, thus winning over public opinion and creating a moral stance, in contrast to the materialist immorality of the road builders. The media are not neutral however, but part of the State, largely owned by millionaire (or billionaire) capitalists such Rupert Murdoch or Conrad Black. It defines the terms of political debate (e.g. security forces vs. terrorists, hard-working police vs. scroungers and so on). As Aufheben point out, liberal activists view public opinion as homogenous and passive, needing a bland, acceptable image of opposition. However, widespread public support for (for instance) the 1984–85 Miner’s Strike, the Anti-Poll Tax campaign, hunt saboteurs and the anti-road movements, despite them being portrayed in the media as violent and criminal, contradict this view. The logic of principled non-violence is that there is no difference between the violence of the system (starvation, poverty, wage slavery, war etc) and the violence employed by people resisting it. This argument could also be extended to damage or destruction of property, i.e. it is morally wrong to cut fences or sabotage construction equipment. Some talk idiotically about ‘violence’ against property being bad – a recipe for doing nothing at all.