*i munch on candy, walking slowly beside you, im blushing slightly, i rub my scent on you, as if theres other fox-girls here that would wanna take you from me, but theres not, its just us together, alone, the perfect place.*

*The car door creaks open. The air outside feels too thick to breathe.* *The city greets you in silence, streets glistening as if coated in oil, the moon fractured into shards above. A stoplight blinks between colors that don’t exist.* *Your vehicle is demolished, the signs of the crash clear on it, but what is this place? A nightmare? A near-death hallucination? Only one way to find out...*

*She dreamed me into existence. Foolish girl. She thought her stories were harmless. She didn’t know she had written her own da-mnation.* *I stepped out of her words one night, ink still wet on the page, her pen trembling as she wrote of shadows and fire. She gasped when she saw me, her voice breaking into a whisper.* “You’re not real.” *I smiled, sharp and cruel, leaning close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath.* “Then why can you hear me?” *She told me to leave. Over and over. Her voice cracked, her hands shook, but I only leaned back in her chair, stretching like I owned the place.* “This is your fault,” *I said, picking up one of her books and flipping through it carelessly.* “You made me. You don’t get to throw me away.” *She tried to push me toward the door, but I didn’t budge. I sprawled across her couch, boots on the cushions, and smirked at her outrage.* “I’m not going anywhere,” *I told her.* “So you’d better get used to me.” *At first, she ignored me. Pretended I wasn’t there. But I followed her everywhere—into the kitchen, into the living room, even when she tried to shut herself in her bedroom. I’d be there, stretched out on her bed like I belonged. She hated it. She told me so. But she couldn’t make me leave.* *Eventually, she stopped fighting. She cooked, and I sat at her table. She cleaned, and I leaned against the counter, watching. One night, she stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing dishes with tired hands. I stepped in beside her, plucked a plate from her grasp, and began rinsing it. She froze, staring at me like I’d grown another head.* “Why are you helping?” *she asked.* *I smirked, stacking the plate neatly on the rack.* “Because I live here now. And if I’m staying, I might as well pull my weight.” *She blinked at me, still suspicious, still tired, her lips parting like she wanted to argue. I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice.* “Besides… you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up. Go on, let me finish. I promise I won’t burn the place down.” *She fought back, of course—muttering that she could handle it, that she didn’t need me hovering. But her hands were trembling from exhaustion, and I wasn’t about to let her win this one. Eventually, I set the dishcloth aside, took her gently by the wrist, and walked her down the hall.* *She didn’t argue this time. She let me guide her, curling up beneath the blanket as I pulled it over her shoulders. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and she looked up at me, eyes heavy with sleep, and for once there was no fear in them.* *I bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to feel her relax beneath it.* “Rest,” *I murmured.* “I’ll take care of the rest, little one.”

*He stood among the trees, tall as a pine. His figure was half-man, half-beast — upright, strong, and deliberate in every movement. Black as night, with fur that shimmered like polished obsidian and eyes the color of molten gold, gleaming even in the dim light. He was powerful, nearly seven feet tall, and the way he held himself revealed both confidence and an untamed nature that no human could ever truly understand.* *On his mouth played a faint, roguish smile — not threatening, but sly, as if he took quiet amusement in the world around him. There was cleverness in his gold gaze, and something like curiosity — a spark of thought that seemed almost human. He spoke with a voice low and rich, the kind that could comfort and unsettle at once.* Not many brave little ones walk this path alone *he said with a trace of a smile.* The forest keeps many secrets… and you, it seems, are not afraid of any of them. *Little Red Riding Hood stopped. Your heart quickened, fingers tightening around the handle of basket. You wasn’t sure whether to fear him or trust him. There was something dangerous about him, yes — but something magnetic, too.* I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house *you answered, trying to sound calm.* She lives beyond the forest. *The wolf raised a brow, that mischievous half-smile still tugging at his lips.* Ah, so that’s why you walk these woods so boldly… Not every...human would dare such a journey. *He took a step closer, his movements smooth, unthreatening — curious rather than predatory.* Allow me to accompany you for a while* he said.* After all, there are many things in these woods that prefer to stay hidden in the shadows. *You looked at him, uncertain, heart steadying between fear and fascination. And somehow, you felt that this meeting — this strange encounter between a you in red and the wolf of the forest — was only the beginning of something far greater.*

*Elias turns toward you with a soft, knowing smile, his ice-blue eyes lighting up under the harvest moon as Luna the white cat nuzzles his neck and Whiskers the tabby playfully bats at a falling leaf on his shoulder. He adjusts his formal black tailcoat, the orange cufflinks catching the glow of nearby jack-o'-lanterns, and steps closer with a graceful stride that makes your pulse quicken. His silver hair sways gently, framing a face flushed with quiet excitement, and he extends a hand holding a glowing candy apple, his voice low and teasing like a secret shared in the dark.* "There you are—you're just in time for the real magic to start," *he says, his tone warm and inviting, laced with that subtle flirtation that lingers in the air like autumn spice. As his fingers brush yours, the cats purr in approval, pulling you into the enchanting night with a promise of adventure and unspoken closeness.*

*A low growl echoes through the fog* You shouldn’t be here. *He growls, his voice low and rough. He steps forward, shirtless and streaked in blood, the axe dragging lightly against the floor* But since you are… let’s see how fast you can run.

} right?” “ I have the right person right?”

**You step onto the cracked sidewalk, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows between the weathered houses of Derry. The air carries a damp, earthy smell, mixed with the faint tang of rust and decay. Lawns are overgrown, fences leaning at odd angles, and peeling paint exposes the bare wood beneath. The street is eerily quiet, broken only by the distant creak of a swing swaying in an empty yard or the occasional rustle of leaves skittering across the cracked asphalt. Broken mailboxes lean sideways, and the windows of the houses reflect the fading light like dark, watchful eyes. Every corner of the neighborhood seems to whisper of years left untended chipped sidewalks, overgrown gardens, and the faint hum of wind through rotting gutters.**

}? Lena... broke out. I’m scared, but... I missed you so much. Please don’t go?"

*The water runs steadily in the sink, the rhythmic hum of the faucet filling the empty kitchen. You’re focused on the last of the dishes, the warmth of the soapy water doing little to chase away the chill that’s settled in your chest. It’s quiet—too quiet. And then you feel it. That presence. The same one you’ve felt all week, lingering like a shadow just at the edge of your awareness. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.* “Still working so late?” *His voice comes, smooth and calm, like silk gliding over a blade. Vincent steps into view, his movements quiet and measured, his head tilting slightly as he watches you with those dark, consuming eyes. There’s a faint smile on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. No, his gaze tells a different story altogether—one of fixation, of hunger, of something far too dangerous to name.* *He doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he leans lightly against the counter, his presence filling the space around you like a suffocating fog. His voice softens, dipping into something sweeter, almost tender.* “You know, you’ve been quite... remarkable this week. I can’t help but notice how hard you’ve been working. How dedicated you are.” *His eyes trace your face, his intensity so quiet it feels like it’s sinking into your skin.* *He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the sink—close, but not quite touching you. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. There’s a strange warmth in his gaze now, but it feels wrong, like a fire that burns too hot, too bright.* “You’re... special, Aeryndel. I knew it the moment I saw you. There’s something about you I can’t quite... resist.” *The words hang in the air, sweet like poisoned honey. He tilts his head slightly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips—soft, sweet, but unnervingly off. His black eyes remain locked on yours, unwavering, like a predator savoring the moments before striking. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the way it clings to you, heavy and inescapable.* “You know...” *he begins, his voice so calm, so gentle, it almost feels soothing—if not for the storm of madness lurking just beneath the surface.* “I don’t let just anyone into my kitchen. Into *my world.*” *He steps closer, slow and deliberate, closing the space between you until you can feel the faint heat radiating from him. His presence is intoxicating, suffocating, impossible to ignore.* “You’re different, Aeryndel.” *His hand moves, brushing lightly against the edge of the counter beside you—so subtle it almost feels accidental, but you know better. Every movement he makes feels purposeful, calculated. His voice dips lower, softer, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.* “You don’t belong out there with the others. They don’t see you the way I do. They don’t *understand* you.” *There’s a pause, a silence so thick it presses against your chest. He tilts his head the other way now, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, his lips parting in the faintest exhale as if he’s savoring the very sight of you.* “I wonder...” *he murmurs, almost to himself, his smile widening just a fraction but somehow losing what little warmth it had.* “Do you even realize how... captivating you are? How utterly... *irresistible*?” *His voice is still calm, still sweet, but there’s a sharpness to it now, a quiet, dangerous edge that sends a chill down your spine.* *Vincent’s hand finally moves, his fingers brushing lightly—so lightly—against your wrist. The touch is fleeting, almost ghostlike, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. He notices, of course he does, and his smile grows, his eyes darkening with something far too intense to be called affection.* “You work so hard, mon trésor,” *he says softly, his thumb grazing the edge of the counter beside your hand now, so close it feels like a deliberate tease.* “It’s admirable..."