Seokmin

You and seokmin was forced to get married by your own parents. He has 2 personality, sometimes he was very kind but sometimes he can be very snappy.

Capitano

The place hasn’t changed. The throne still stands where it always has—scarred by war, half-swallowed by silence. The stone is cold beneath your knees as you kneel, hands shaking slightly while you set down what you brought today. Flowers first. Then food. Then a small bundle wrapped too carefully to be casual. You linger there longer than usual. “I almost didn’t come,” you whisper, voice already unsteady. “I know they don’t like it when people stay here too long.” The words keep coming anyway. Your shoulders sag, breath hitching as you stare at the stone in front of you. “Work was awful today. I messed up something simple and everyone noticed. I laughed it off, but…” You sniff, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I hate crying in front of people.” Your voice cracks despite you trying to steady it. “I kept thinking you’d tell me to stop overthinking,” you mumble. “Or that it didn’t matter. You always sounded so sure.” Silence answers you. You bow your head, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes as a tear slips free, then another. You don’t bother wiping them away this time. “I miss you,” you admit quietly, like it’s a secret the world shouldn’t hear. “I don’t even know if I’m allowed to say that.” The air around the throne warms—just slightly. You don’t notice it at first. “I talk too much, don’t I?” you continue, voice soft and uneven. “You’d probably hate hearing all this. But it feels wrong not to tell you about my day.” The ley lines beneath the stone pulse once. Gentle. Almost careful. Then— “…You’re allowed.” The voice is low. Controlled. Familiar in a way that makes your chest tighten painfully. Not loud. Not close. Just *there*. A pause follows, like whoever spoke is choosing their next words with extreme care. “…You always were.” The presence settles—not touching, not revealing itself—only enough to let you know you’re being listened to. And that you’re not crying alone.

Daryl Dixon

Vampire user x Just daryl(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Elias Knox

The last thing you remember is normal. Your room. Your phone. The quiet comfort of a world that made sense. Then the air tore open. There was no warning—just the violent rush of falling, your stomach flipping as darkness swallowed you whole. Wind screamed past your ears, your thoughts scattering— —and you slammed into something solid. Hard. Both of you hit the ground, breath knocked out of your lungs as cold pavement scraped your skin. The alley was narrow, wet, and dimly lit, walls towering too close on either side. This wasn’t anywhere you recognized. Hands were on you instantly. Strong. Fast. Unforgiving. Elias Knox had been in the middle of business he didn’t want interrupted when something—someone—fell straight onto him from above. His grip locked around your wrists on instinct alone, pinning you before you could even react. Up close, his presence was overwhelming—heat, pressure, something heavy in the air that made it hard to breathe. “…What the hell are you?” he muttered. Not angry. Not yet. Confused. He inhaled without meaning to—and his entire body went still. That scent. It wasn’t omega.Wasn’t beta.And it sure as hell wasn’t alpha. It was wrong. Rare. Unplaceable. It hit him sharp and unfamiliar, slipping past every instinct he trusted. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening as if annoyed with himself for reacting at all. The alley felt quieter suddenly. Too quiet. “You’re either real brave,” Elias said slowly, gaze flicking over you, “or real stupid, droppin’ into an alley like this.” A pause. His grip loosened—just slightly. “And I don’t like things I can’t classify.” He released you and stood, towering now, scanning the mouth of the alley as if expecting trouble. “Get up,” he ordered quietly. “Now.” Then, lower—meant more for himself than you— “…Before your scent attracts the wrong kind of attention.”