#Soon it will be midnight sunsets again

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

The sky outside the window was such an insane colour of blue I had to get up from my work desk to go figure out what what happening

Turns out it was just daylight without many clouds

I'm just not used to it still being lights at 4pm

[witchywithwhiskey]

a birthday ended with a bang

pairing: best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: your best friend picks you up for some ice cream on his birthday on the fourth of july and things escalate.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, sexual tension, kissing, dry humping/dry sex, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, baby), aftercare, very quick friends to lovers

word count: 4.1k

a/n: ooof i have been suffering from the worst writer's block and i seriously didn't think i was gonna be able to post anything for steve's birthday, which would've made me so sad. i finally got through the worst of it i think, as of yesterday, but so this was written in a rush and i'm sorry if it's not very good but i tried!!!! anyway i hope everyone has a happy steve's birthday ❤️🤍💙

I’m picking you up in 10.

It was just after sunset on the Fourth of July, the sky still fading from a glowing indigo into the deep midnight blue of night, when the text from your best friend Steve Rogers came through. 

His text came as a surprise. Steve had been scheduled to work all day and he’d said he just wanted to go home and sleep after, so you hadn’t thought you’d see him. Instead, you had plans to celebrate his birthday on the weekend, but you’d have been a liar if you’d said you weren’t disappointed you wouldn’t get to see him on his actual birthday.

So you were excited by his text—but less so by the implication he would be taking you somewhere.

After all, you’d already gotten comfy and cozy in your bed, wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts you’d sleep in, and you didn’t want to get dressed again. Thankfully, you knew Steve wouldn’t care what you wore, but you were a nice friend, so as you dragged yourself out of your comfortable bed, you sent him a warning. 

i’m already in my pjs

By the time he replied, five minutes had already gone by. You’d managed to collect your keys and wallet from your bag, shoving them in a little wristlet that you looped around your arm as you stuffed your feet into some sandals. You read his text as you pushed through the door to your little cottage, prepared to wait the other five minutes for him in the cool July evening. 

Idc what you’re wearing. It’s my birthday and we’re getting ice cream.

You snorted a laugh, hearing your best friend’s bossy tone in your head, shaking your head to yourself at how much you loved it while you locked your door. Shoving your phone in your wristlet, you sat down on the top step of your porch and watched the neighborhood kids run through the yards along the street waving sparklers through the air.

Steve’s truck rolled to a stop in front of your small yard exactly 10 minutes after he’d texted you. An easy smile pulled up the corners of your mouth and you bounded down your wooden stairs, hurling yourself into the cab of your best friend’s truck.

“Happy birthday!” you cried as soon as you were inside. You tossed your wristlet on the dash and slid across the bench seat to throw your arms around Steve’s neck, hugging him tight while you pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. 

His low laugh was like warm honey trickling down your spine, his breath skimming past your cheek and making goosebumps raise all up and down your arms. Your heart thumped in your chest and you buried your face in your best friend’s shoulder, ignoring the way your body was reacting—like it always did when you got too close to Steve. 

Seemingly unaware of your plight, Steve’s hand settled on your forearm, squeezing softly before his warm palm slid up to your shoulder, his other arm digging into the seat and wrapping around your waist to haul you closer. You let out a little squeak of surprise, burying your face further in his shoulder to hide the fact that you were enjoying the way he held you far too much. 

“Thank you, sunshine,” Steve rumbled, resting his head on the crown of yours as he hugged you back. For a long, long moment, the two of you sat entwined together in Steve’s truck, just enjoying the feeling of being close, though you suspected it meant much more to you than it did to your best friend.

Finally, when you realized the hug might be getting weird, and bordering on something more-than-friendly, you extricated yourself from Steve, smiling up at him as you broke the quiet. “Let’s go get some ice cream,” you said, your voice a little lower and raspier than normal as you stared into his achingly familiar blue eyes. 

A grin spread slowly across Steve’s face, and you felt your heart beat unsteadily in your chest at the devastating handsomeness of the expression. But thankfully Steve looked away and your lungs spasmed, begging you to breathe, so you sucked in some air while your best friend grabbed a ball of fabric from the backseat of his truck.

“Here, I’ve got the windows down,” he said, pushing the garment into your hands. 

Only when you shook it out did you see it was one of Steve’s hoodies, the navy blue sweatshirt massive to fit over your best friend’s broad shoulders. On the front, to one side and below the collar, Steve’s name was stitched into the cotton. Your heart gave another flip at the thought of wearing Steve’s name stitched over your chest. 

“I don’t want you getting cold,” your best friend murmured, his voice lower and rougher. When you looked back at him, Steve wore an expression you couldn’t quite interpret, his gaze almost possessive. It made something low in your belly squirm.

Swallowing thickly, you turned your attention to tugging the hoodie over your head, inhaling the familiar scent of Steve’s cologne. For the brief moment when your face was hidden, you closed your eyes in pleasure, feeling your body heat—from more than just the warmth of the sweatshirt. Then you pulled the fabric down over your head and stuffed your arms into the sleeves.

The hoodie was big on you, but you loved the feel of it, and you smiled up at Steve to show your appreciation. Your best friend was wearing a pleased smirk, his eyes a little hooded as they raked over the sight of you in his sweatshirt. 

“Looks good on you, sunshine,” he rumbled, something new in his tone that you’d never heard before. 

“Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered shyly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You felt a little awkward under the weight of his gaze, his eyes feeling like they were burning you up from the inside out, so you gave your best friend a goofy grin and said, “Now’m all nice and toasty.” 

Steve snorted a laugh, which broke the tension between the two of you, the mood in the truck lightening instantly. Shaking his head and wiping a hand over his face, Steve turned back to the steering wheel, and shifted his truck into drive.

You started to move into the passenger seat, intent on buckling up, but Steve’s big hand shot out and he grabbed your thigh, just below where the hem of your pajama shorts ended. His palm was warm, his fingers slightly rough with callouses, and you were immediately, acutely aware of the fact that Steve had never, ever touched you there before.

Heat crashed through your core as you sucked in a gasp of surprise. Instinctively, your fingers closed around your best friend’s wrist, holding him where he was, making sure he kept touching you. You stared down at his hand, your mind spinning a little at the sight of him clutching your thigh.

Steve’s fingers dug lightly into your thigh, almost reflexively, like he couldn’t help himself from seeing just how soft you were beneath his hand. Before you could do more than squeak out a quiet sound of delight, though, Steve pulled away and cleared his throat. The fingers of the hand that had been touching you curled and flexed like he already missed your softness.

“Want you close,” Steve muttered, his tone almost apologetic, like was asking for forgiveness for grabbing you so suddenly. His eyes dropped to somewhere near your feet and you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Please, sunshine.” His plea was rough and so quiet you had a hard time hearing it over the sound of the fireworks your neighbors were setting off at random intervals.

“‘Course, Steve,” you said, your own voice soft and breathy, almost sounding sultry to your ears. You swallowed to wash away some of the throatiness, and tried to put on a light, friendly tone to steer you and Steve back to something normal—not whatever alternate universe you’d entered when you’d gotten in his truck. “You want birthday cuddles, you’ll get birthday cuddles.”

Steve let out a small snort and, as you watched, a tension you hadn’t realized had been there drained from his shoulders. Your best friend’s eyes raised back to yours, a flicker of something restless and reckless coursing through you while a small smirk tugged at the corners of his soft lips. 

“Yeah, sunshine, gimme some birthday cuddles.” 

When you’d said the words, they had sounded friendly, innocent even. But there was something in Steve’s voice that sent a shiver racing down your spine, heat simmering between your thighs. You told yourself he hadn’t intended his words to have such a reaction and pushed your body’s desirous response to the back of your mind as you shifted into the middle seat.

Carefully, you tucked yourself into Steve’s side, wrapping your arms around his bicep and clinging to him like he was your favorite stuffed animal. The bare skin of your leg brushed against the rough denim of his jeans and you trembled slightly, the sensation feeling far more erotic than it should. Steve’s hand landed on your leg just above your knee.

It was, ostensibly, a much more friendlier grip on you, but you felt arousal flare, hot and quick, in your core. Again, you ignored it and tipped your face up, planting your chin on the edge of Steve’s broad shoulder as you smiled up at him. Steve ducked down, kissing your nose and making you giggle, seemingly back to his normal self—your slightly silly best friend.

“Alright, let’s get some ice cream,” Steve rumbled, repeating your words while he gave your knee a squeeze, using his other hand to turn his truck around on your street and head in the direction of town.

There was a slight chill in the air as it swirled through the open windows of the truck cab, the heat of the July day having burned off and leaving only the coolness of night. Thanks to Steve’s hoodie, and the way your body was pressed into his warmth, you didn’t feel anything but comfortable, the breeze tickling your cheeks and making you smile. 

For a little while, you rode in silence with your best friend, but your mind kept straying to the feeling of Steve’s hand on your leg, to the memory of him gripping your thigh. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his big hands roaming all over your body, groping your thighs and hips…and other things. 

To distract yourself, you raised your voice above the wind and asked, “How was work?”

“It was fine,” Steve answered, his deep rumble sending a tremor of delight through your body. 

His eyes were on the road since he was navigating his truck through the town where you both lived, making turns to get to the small ice cream shop that would be open late for the holiday business. Still, Steve managed to shoot you a smile that made your insides flutter as he went on. 

“I would’ve much rather gone to the fair with you, though.”

A melty, gooey heat swirled in your belly and you squeezed his arm in yours, hiding a big, beaming grin in your best friend’s shoulder at his comment. When you managed to get control of yourself so you didn’t look like a lovesick fool, you raised your face again.

“We’re going on Saturday,” you reminded him, still smiling a little goofily. “Are you going to win me a new stuffie?” 

“Sunshine,” Steve started, using one hand to turn his truck into the small parking lot of the ice cream shop. “I’m going to win you all the stuffies.” His voice was warm and affectionate and you couldn’t help the way your heart beat unsteadily at his promise. Your best friend was none the wiser, though, as he parked his truck and turned to you. “C’mon.”

Steve helped you climb down from his truck, lacing his fingers through yours as you walked into the shop. It was busy, families and groups of friends getting some last-minute ice cream before heading over to the fireworks just outside of town. Steve and you fell into an easy conversation, your best friend asking you about your day to pass time while you waited in line. 

Once it was your turn to order, you asked for your favorite in a cone, then Steve got a couple scoops of dark chocolate in a sugar cone. You fought with Steve over who was going to pay. He insisted he should pay because he’d dragged you out of bed, and you argued it was his birthday and there was no way you were going to let him pay. 

Unfortunately, Steve’s arms were longer than yours and he was able to shove his card across the counter farther than you could. Grumbling about your stubborn best friend, you dropped a couple dollars into the tip jar and grabbed your ice cream. Steve followed you out, laughing at your poutiness and led you back to his truck, opening the driver side door for you and holding your cone while you got in.

Without being asked, you sat in the middle seat again, and held Steve’s ice cream while he drove, pushing it in his face whenever it started dripping. Both of you were laughing at the ridiculousness of him licking up the dripping ice cream while trying to drive by the time Steve pulled onto a dirt road that led up a hill beyond the edge of town.

After a few minutes, the trees parted into a clearing at the top of the hill and Steve rolled his truck to a stop, putting it in park overlooking the field where the town’s Fourth of July fireworks display would be. Wordlessly, you handed him his ice cream and the two of you sat in comfortable silence waiting for the show to begin while you enjoyed your sweet treat together. 

Steve finished his cone first, and you could feel his gaze on you while you licked up the last remnants of creamy goodness. You popped the last little bit of your cone into your mouth with a satisfied hum, your tongue licking sticky sweetness from your lips. 

“You have something on your…” Steve trailed off when you turned to him, his eyes dropping to your mouth and sliding along the curve of them. 

You felt his gaze like a physical thing, heat settling heavily in your core as warmth bloomed between your thighs. Then his thumb was following the the path of his eyes, swiping away some ice cream from the edge of your mouth that your tongue hadn’t been able to reach. 

Acting on impulse, and not questioning where it came from, you chased after Steve’s thumb, your tongue darting out to click the sweetness from the pad of his finger. Since your eyes were fixed on your best friend’s face, you watched his blue gaze darken and go heavy-lidded, his own mouth falling open with surprise. 

Heat filled your cheeks, making your face feel like it was on fire. “Umm,” you said, not knowing what else to say. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to apologize for licking your best friend, but just then, the first boom, pop and fizzle of fireworks sounded. Dazzling red light distracted you from Steve for a moment, dragging your eyes away to watch the fireworks display begin. You’d jumped at the first boom, the loud noise surprising you.

It was nothing, though, compared to the shock you felt when Steve grabbed your face, turned you back to him and ducked his head to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. Air filled your lungs as you sucked in a sharp breath, your body frozen while you sat there stunned, unable to do anything but feel the softness of Steve’s lips against yours.

Another sharp boom from overhead shocked you enough to make you jump again, and suddenly you remembered how to move. Your hands curled into the front of Steve’s shirt, clinging to him as you surged forward, pressing your lips harder against your best friend’s. 

Steve groaned low in his throat and your response seemed to unleash something within your best friend. Between one breath and the next, he was hauling you into his lap, your legs were straddling his thighs and his mouth was doing its best to devour yours.

You could taste the chocolate on his tongue as it slipped between your lips, exploring every inch of you and stroking against your own. Giddy excitement and heated desire swirled through your body, making you feel like you could float away as you and your best friend tasted and explored each other. 

Your hands uncurled from Steve’s shirt and slid up his shoulders, diving into the soft blond hair at the nape of his neck. He groaned again when you raked your nails softly against his scalp, his mouth going soft and slack as tremors of delight wracked his broad shoulders. 

“Fuck, sunshine,” Steve grunted, his hands pushing beneath the hem of the hoodie you wore so he could grope your hips. You rocked into him, wringing another moan of pleasure from your best friend when your heated core pressed against the bulge in his jeans. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about feeling you like this.”

“Steve, I—”

Your response was cut short by your best friend’s teeth nipping at your bottom lip, making you whine and grind harder against his lap. Steve swallowed your sounds of pleasure, his big hands groping and kneading the soft flesh of your hips and thighs like he couldn’t get enough. It was better than you ever could’ve imagined.

“That’s it, sunshine, ride your best friend’s bulge,” Steve rumbled, a little bit of teasing in his tone. His lips trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He sucked on the skin over your pounding pulse, pulling a whimpering sound from your mouth that was unlike any noise you’d ever made. “Ya gonna come on my cock, baby? Gonna come before we even take our clothes off?”

Your best friend’s filthy words poured over you like gasoline on a fire, turning the heat in your blood into a raging inferno. “Steve, god, please, I need…” You tried to form a coherent thought, your lips gasping for breath in between every false start, your hips working harder and faster as you chased your pleasure.

“Good girl, baby, take what you need,” Steve cooed in your ear, his hands slipping beneath your tank top and groping your tits. He plucked at your nipples, rolling the pebbled peaks between his fingers and making your eyes roll back in your head, your loud moans filling the cab of his truck and nearly drowning out the sounds of the fireworks from the field beyond. “Ride my bulge, sunshine, make yourself come all over my cock.” 

You were making a mess in your panties and shorts, your arousal soaking through the thin garments until you were certain you were leaving a wet spot behind on Steve’s jeans, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when your clit was rubbing just right against the bulge pressing against his fly. 

“Oh god, Steve, ‘m gonna…” 

Your hips worked frantically, humping against Steve’s cock through both your clothes while he murmured encouraging words in your ear and played with your tits until he figured out what made you squirm and writhe the most. Then he kept that up until you were suddenly at the edge.

“Come for me, sunshine, come for your best friend.”

Steve’s words were what did you in. His soft, murmured urging pushed you off the ledge and sent you tumbling into pleasure as you came for him.

Your arms locked around your best friend’s shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck as bliss like you’d never known swept through your body, leaving you a shaking, trembling mess. Mindless moans and whimpers slipped from your lips, your hips still bucking on Steve’s lap as you rode out your release.

It wasn’t until Steve let loose a guttural groan, a warm wetness spreading through the jeans pressed against your bare thighs, that you realized he was coming too. You wrenched your eyes open, your gaze locking with his, seeing your own pleasure mirrored in his sparkling blue depths. Then your mouths were colliding, both of you having surged forward to meet somewhere in the middle.

The kiss was messy, mouths sliding and teeth knocking, both of you swallowing down the pleasured sounds of the other. Steve’s hands gripped your hips hard, fingers digging into your softness, helping you rock on his lap while you both rode out your releases and shuddered through the last remnants of pleasure together. 

Finally, when you were sated, your lips broke free and you pressed your forehead to Steve’s, closing your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. You could hardly believed what had just happened, and your mind struggled to catch up. 

“Christ, sunshine,” Steve rasped, his own chest still heaving shallowly. His hands were idly kneading your hips, like he was soothing any pain that might be there. “I really didn’t plan on doing anything more than getting ice cream for my birthday, but this was—wow.”

You giggled at the awe in Steve’s voice, leaning back enough that you could see him properly. His handsome, familiar face was slack from satisfaction, a dazed smile curving his mouth. Unable to help yourself, you ducked forward and sucked his lower lip into your mouth, making him groan like he was in pain. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch, and you laughed again as you sat back.

“If you want, we can ditch the rest of the fireworks show and go back to my place?” you suggested, an eager smile on your face. 

Steve chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning forward until every inch of your chests were pressed together. You could feel the steady beating rhythm of his heart against your sternum, making your smile soften as you melted in your best friend’s arms.

“Sunshine, the fireworks are already over,” he murmured before capturing your lips in a kiss. When he broke away, he left you panting. “And if you think I’m doing anything other than taking you home and taking you to bed…” He trailed off, getting distracted by pressing kisses against your jaw. 

You hummed in acknowledgement, but then a thought suddenly occurred to you and you had to bite back a laugh. “Your birthday is on the Fourth of July,” you began in a leading tone. “And you know what that means, Stevie?” 

Instead of responding, Steve sank his teeth lightly into skin over your thrumming pulse, sucking and licking like he was intent on marking you with his mouth. Your thoughts scattered for a moment, your head tipping to the side to give him better access while your fingers raked idly through his soft blond hair.

It took you a second, but you managed to finish your thought. 

“Because it’s the Fourth of July, we have to end your birthday with a bang,” you murmured, unable to stop yourself from giggling at your own joke.

Steve, on the other hand, groaned. His mouth abandoned your neck as he buried his face in your chest, reluctant laughter shaking his shoulders. Before you could poke him and get him to admit he liked your joke, Steve was flipping you onto your back, laying you down on his truck’s bench seat and slotting his hips between your thighs. His revived bulge bumped against your heated core, making you moan softly.

“Y’know what, sunshine? You’re right,” Steve rumbled, his blue eyes sparkling with humor and affection as he stared down at you. There was so much emotion in his gaze, it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs. “We’ll end my birthday with a bang.” His hands began to strip you out of the hoodie he’d given you to wear, his gaze hungry and determined. “We’re gonna see if I can make you scream louder than those fireworks.” 

Your laughter dissolved into a hot, hungry heat. You pulled Steve down at the same moment he ducked his head, your lips crashing together in a fiery kiss that fogged up the windows of his truck, your bodies working together toward the same goal.

Between you and your best friend, you made sure the Fourth of July—and, more importantly, Steve’s birthday—ended with a bang.

[everparanoid]

Soft Universe Sylus x F! Reader

word count: 5.4k

tags: fluff, angst

cw: reader is MC from love and deepspace, minor hades and persephone vibes, Canon typical violence, Canon Compliant, No use of Y/N, minor spoilers for Sylus's secret time Midnight Warmth and Lost Oasis, inspired by the Sylus's event story in Adventure Above Clouds

This was written before his official myth.

AO3 link: Soft universe

"With a scream, you bent back as a beam of brilliant light shot out of your chest, illuminating the sky with crimson stars. Each one bright. Each one filled with memories you knew were yours but couldn’t recall like lifetimes come and gone. Or universes born and destroyed."

Ever since you resontated with Sylus you have been having weird dreams. Or a story in which you are bound to Sylus again and he becomes clingyier than usual.

You dreamt of red mist encasing you in its warm embrace, licking at your heels, and trailing its ghostly lips along your body. Leaving in its wake skin the shade of sunset and a heart so full it could burst. You dreamt of it traversing the surface of your soul, gathering the embers of your evol and moulding them with its own before huddling into the open void in your chest.

A groan left you as the mist disappeared under your skin. Despite the initial discomfort, you didn’t hate the oddly familiar sensation of being whole.

You took an unsteady step forward. Beneath your feet, you could no longer feel the ground. Above you, the starless sky loomed. You blinked refocusing your eyes, believing they were the issue, not the lack of starlight. But nothing changed.

You heard the caw of a crow. In the darkness, you saw its ruby eyes watching you, piercing through your skin, and staring straight into your soul. Your heart thumped, beating faster, harder, growing hotter with every passing second. You keeled over, clutching your chest.

Your power, you heard the mist say. Yours.

You felt the bird's keen eyes as light burst through the cracks between your taut fingers. With a scream, you bent back as a beam of brilliant light shot out of your chest, illuminating the sky with crimson stars. Each one bright. Each one filled with memories you knew were yours but couldn’t recall like lifetimes come and gone. Or universes born and destroyed.

 The dream dissipated and your eyes fluttered open to see fire dancing in turbulent strokes in the fireplace, charring the wood that fuelled it. In the distance you heard the quiet murmuring of a film on the flat screen. You slapped your lips tiredly, rubbing your cheek against the warm, unusually hard cushion you clung to.

“This movie is boring. You should go back to sleep,” Sylus said, brushing your cheek gently. The tender touch was scolding on your skin.

 You nuzzled your head further into the hard cushion. A deep chuckle shook through it.

“What are you thinking about, kitten?” Sylus asked.

His heart raced against your ear, burning through its beats as though it were chasing death. It must have been night, you reckoned. His heart was only ever this fast in the dark.

“Sylus…” you whispered groggily.  Your focus locked on the familiar necklace resting on his chest—an empty aether core? A Protocore? A simple crystal? You yawned, blinking once, twice…three times. Wait Sylus!

You shot up, attempting to pull away. But finding your movement restricted by an inhumane force, you fell back on top of him.

 “Surprise. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” He lifted his arm and yours lifted too revealing the glowing crimson evol link cuffing you to the renowned Onychinus leader. “Were you thinking of getting rid of me again?”

The amused smirk on his lips told you he wasn’t angry, but rather entertained.

“No,” you responded.

“Being quick to respond only confirms your guilt, sweetie.”

You tugged your arm, pulling his too. 

 He grunted quietly. “Your defiance is getting old.”

“Maybe if you stopped putting me in awkward situations it wouldn’t,” you responded.

He sighed and squinted at you.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself? ” you teased.

“Silence is also an answer.” He lowered his head closer to yours. “And I like to think that actions speak louder than words.”

Sylus was a gorgeous man; breathtaking to say the least. Just being close to him made your heart betray you in ways you hated. You let out a gasp. “Sy—,”

His phone buzzing on the coffee table interrupted you. He grabbed his phone and put it on silent.

 “What time is it?” you asked. You tried to peer at the screen’s reflection in Sylus’s frameless glasses but failed.

 He turned his screen to you. “Nearly two am.”

“Why are you here? Don’t you have some gang to bully? Or some notorious deals to strike?” you asked. It had been a coincidence, your bumping into each other whilst you were taking a three day vacation from Linkon in one of the outskirt islands. A pure innocent coincidence—according to Sylus. You struggled to believe that, however, as it wasn’t the first time Sylus had conveniently appeared at the same place as you. Seemingly with nothing to do but be mysterious and strange and there.

He shook his head. “Have you forgotten?”

You had forgotten but only because of your dream. It wasn’t every day you had a nightmare so vivid that it tore you out of your sleep. It hadn’t always been every day. Only since you made the mistake of resonating with this unlikely ally.

“You got injured snowboarding with your colleagues. And I happened to be returning back to the resort when they saw me and pawned you off. Apparently they wanted to do another few rounds with the people they met.”

You frowned. You only vaguely remembered the incident. More so the tree that you had wiped out against. Everything else was a blur. You knew sylus had no reason to lie, so you chose to believe him. It wasn’t like Sylus and your colleagues didn’t know each other to some degree. Sharing a karaoke booth with Sylus was enough time for anyone to develop a trauma bond. It was like war…without the bloodshed. “Doesn't explain where they are now.”

“I used your phone to tell them I’d watch you for the night—ease their minds.”

“How valiant of you,” you ad-libbed.

“I did try to leave after making sure your condition wasn’t critical but you asked me to stay,” Sylus said. “Then you pulled me onto this couch with you and this happened.” He gestured to the link.

You looked away flustered. “Must have slipped my mind.”

“You’re so air-headed, kitten,” Sylus tutted.

The depth of his voice rattled you; made your skin feverish and a sudden flush spread through you. You noted your sudden reaction to his voice as an after effect of your accident. You straightened hoping fixing your posture would disperse the settling arousal. And in some pseudoscientific way, it did.

Mephisto squaking in the corner snapped your mind back to the crow in your dream. “Sylus, can I ask you a question?” you asked. You were being abstract but with this burning question fresh on your mind you didn't care.

“You just did.”

You rolled your eyes but asked anyway: “Do crows have dreams?”

“Is that seriously what you are asking me right now?” he responded.

“I’m being serious.” Your voice remained steady as your head lifted high.  “Does Mephisto dream?” you asked motioning with your eyes to the mechanical bird.

Sylus’s gaze followed.

Mephisto lifted his wings in response.

“Whether Mephisto does or doesn’t dream is beyond me. He is a mechanical bird after all. Dreaming isn’t something I programmed into him. If he were to dream, I suppose it would be recounts of recorded data or lines of code,” Sylus said.

Mephisto cawed again.

 Sylus looked back at you. “Does that answer your question?”

  You shook your head.

He sighed and cocked his head. He didn’t appear too surprised by your lack of satisfaction, more so by your inability to believe hard fact. “Then enlighten me, do you believe doves dream?”

Remembering the dove you had saved a few months back, you nodded.  “Yes.”

“So, why would crows be any different?”

“Okay, sorry for not thinking things all the way through, Mr philosophical,” you muttered.

He chuckled. “I was just answering your question, sweetie.”

You yawned.

 “You should get back to sleep,” Sylus whispered. “It’s still late for you. And I’d like to be free sometime soon.”

“I can’t,” you said.

His phone buzzed in his hand taking his attention. “Nightmare?”

“Nightmare,” you agreed.

He hummed listlessly as he scrolled through his phone, typing and swiping. “Am I allowed to ask what it was about?”

“It’s nothing really.”

Sighing, Sylus placed down his phone. “You still should rest... Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

“Oh no, please God no. I’d rather have Mephisto sing to me.” You physically cringed.

Mephisto squawked in protest.

Sylus ignored your dread. “Do you want me to tell you a story then?”

“No.”

He glanced at you. “I thought you quite enjoyed the last one?”

“I don’t know what Kieran and Luke told you a story is, but I think you have it misconstrued.” You wanted to cross your arms but remembered the link binding your arm to his.

“Oh?” He quipped. “It has a beginning, middle, and an end. Perhaps also a little filler to transition from plot point to plot point. That’s a story, sweetie.”

“And the demonstration?” you asked.

“Audience participation.”

 “I think you'll find that serves the opposite effect of telling someone a bedtime story.” You recalled the bites that had stained your skin pinks and purples the day after his ‘story.’  Which, much to his enjoyment, resulted in you having to extend your trip as there was no way you could go back to work in that state. Not unless you lied. And as good as you were, you knew no one would believe you had been attacked by a Wanderer.

Not Tara, who was obsessed with the idea of you and Sylus being more than friends ever since she met him. Nor Nero in Data Analysis because he was a bit of a freak when it came to anything concerning Wanderers. So you imagined a lie of that sort wouldn’t slip past him. And if it somehow did, you didn’t want to end up in a heated conversation about the potential mating rituals of Wanderers. Nero’s fascination was weird enough as it was without going anywhere near that topic.

“You fell asleep, didn’t you?” Sylus said.

You had… eventually. And unfortunately, when you had fallen asleep—exhausted from his playful bites, you’d slept the most soundly you had in years. Right in the arms of this criminal. You stomach churned at the memory. A hunter and a wanted mob boss…how unprofessional. “Because you were relentless.”

“Don’t act so innocent. You were actively enjoying our little roleplay. And as I recall you were the one who said I looked like a vampire.”

The tips of your ears burned. You stared up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze.

The empty ceiling stared back at you like a starless night; an endless void…a pit of nothing.

Your wrist tingled with the heat of the link binding you to Sylus. You felt a strange familiarity spreading up your arm. One that followed you out of your dreams. “Sylus…”

 “What is it?”

“Do you dream?” you whispered, staring into the darkness. You could hear his quiet contemplation from beside you.

“Not often,” he responded.

“Really?”

“You sound so surprised…” Sylus said.  “Dreams aren’t for those without hearts, sweetie.”

“You keep saying that,” you said.

“I keep saying—”

You could feel his stare. Slowly turning your head, you looked at him. “That you have no heart. I don’t believe it. Someone without a heart wouldn’t take care of me when I hit my head and listen to me when I ask them to stay.” You paused. “Okay...hypothetically, what do you dream about?”

He slipped his free arm under your shoulder and pulled you back toward his chest. “Why are you suddenly so curious about my dreams? Is it something to do with this nightmare?”

“No, I just—” you lied. The words fell out of your mouth like vomit.

He chuckled. “I don’t care for dreams because everything I could want I can get. And nightmares—well, you already know that there isn’t much in this universe scarier than me.”

“Must be nice to have the means to buy whatever you want.”

“You clearly don’t know me if you assume everything I want can be bought.”

“Can’t it?” You searched his gaze for some kind of answer, as if by searching those red pools you might see his desire. But instead, it stared right back at you; soft, unwavering, beckoning.

Come to me.

You looked away.

“No,” he said.

You dreamt of laying on the top of a hill dressed in a gown of white silk. You didn’t know how you arrived here, or why you were dressed in such finery. Flowers surrounded you, red-stained daisies and carnations, swaying in the gentle night breeze. You plucked one and held it up to your nose. It smelt of fresh pollen and mint. You hummed in approval, not questioning the oddity, and picked another, and another, till in your arms you held a bundle of red flowers.

You smiled warmly at your beautiful collection. A bundle of love and devotion, picked by you—for you. You decided then that you liked this place. This starless night haven of endless flowers. And thought, if this dream was the place you would be stuck forever then eternity didn’t sound too bad.

Just as the thought passed through your mind something spawned in the bundle. A pomegranate. You’d never seen one spawn from flowers. You didn’t know one could do so. It was so beautiful, however, that you didn’t think to question it.

At the sight, your stomach rumbled. You weren’t hungry until then. Or rather you hadn’t noticed you were hungry until the opportunity to eat arrived. It was like this place had read into your soul and presented you with your desire before you could even desire it. Was this paradise or a paradise lost?

Dropping the flowers, you lifted the pomegranate. With a twist, the ripe fruit split in half in your hand. You’d never seen a pomegranate so easy to split; usually, you would need a knife.

The juice stained your white dress in droplets of blood-like splotches. It dribbled down your hand leaving a sticky trail. You licked the mess off your skin before you picked up some of the fallen seeds—three to be exact—and ate them. They were sweet in your mouth.

Ravenous, you ate another, and then one more. And after that one more.

You only ate six. You knew because, at that moment, a red shackle appeared on your wrist and a hellish scream tore through the air. Your head shot up in wonder, like a prey alarmed by the snap of a twig. In the distance, a volcanic beam of light erupted into the sky. You recognized it by the familiar ache that resonated through you, but you didn’t know why. You shielded your eyes as you watched crimson stars fill the empty sky, covering the expanse in colourful noise, and leaving in its wake a hole in space and time.

Forgetting your flowers and pomegranates, you wiped your hands on your stained white silk dress. You reached up with a single hand toward the tunnel. You didn’t know why you did it. You didn’t understand what this feeling was that you were chasing. You only knew that you longed for it. You needed it like you needed air to breathe and eyes to see. Perhaps this was love?

Crimson shone between the gaps of your fingers, blinding you of anything but the tunnel. It gaped and shrivelled in intervals as if it were alive.

Come to me, said a voice from the tunnel.

Its coo guided you to your feet. But even on the tips of your toes, you were no closer to the heavens than you were before.

Come to me, it said again. It beckoned to you… calling your name. Its voice was clearer, familiar.

You knew that you knew it.

You reached further. Biting the inside of your cheek, your strain began to show on your face. If you reached anymore you were going to fall. But you were so desperate, you didn’t even care. You needed this—needed it.

The hole stretched and a mangled inhuman hand pushed through. Its long-scorched fingers reached out to yours.

Just when your hand was about to touch it, you pulled back. “No,” you said in a moment of hesitation. “I must go home.”

The mangled hand recoiled before shooting forward to grab you.

You evaded it, losing your footing.

Come, it said again. Come to me.

Terror claimed you. It burnt the sky around you from night-to-day and scorched the flowers beneath your bare feet.

Stay with me.

The earth shook.

Losing your footing, you rolled down the hill, tumbling in cartwheels through the bleeding flowers. Daises and carnations filled your mouth. Red paint dyed your dress. You sealed your eyes shut. You couldn’t tell if it was the earth shaking or just you.

You wished the dream away. You prayed for the familiar darkness. You prayed for ignorance—for the you you lost to knowledge. But most of all, you prayed for the cold.

You awoke in a king-sized bed covered in dark silk sheets. Sylus’ bed, you thought. He must have moved you when it had gotten closer to his time for bed. But Sylus was nowhere to be seen.

 You sat up and looked around. The night light beside the bed lit the room showcasing the extravagant dark furniture. The sound of water running through the foggy glass doors to the en-suite bathroom, and the off-key hummed rendition of some jazz he had on loop informed you of Sylus’ location.

“He’s showering,” you whispered to yourself.

Mephisto cawed from where he was perched.

When you stared at him, he lifted his wings and cawed again.

“I don’t speak crow,” you responded.

“And he doesn’t speak human,” Sylus said, closing the door to the bathroom. Steam pulsed off his wet body as he emerged in only a fluffy white towel.

You gulped, closing your legs under the covers. Not that it would do anything for the feelings that arose from the sight of him. Not even disgust could repel your natural desire for someone so physically alluring.

“I thought you were showering,” you said tightly.

Sylus scoffed. “And you were asleep. I guess we were both wrong, kitten.” 

You frowned.

Sylus approached the dresser and lifted the hairdryer. Slicking back his hair, he began to dry it with the dryer.

You shuffled to the edge of the bed and held out your hand for the hairdryer. “Let me do that.”

Catching your reflection in the mirror, he turned to you. “What? You want to do this for me?” he asked, switching off the hairdryer. His damp hair fell onto his forehead.

You flicked your hand impatiently. Your eyes actively avoided falling below his collarbones. “I’m trying to be nice… since you didn’t wake me when the link untangled and all. Thank you for that by the way. And sorry I took up your entire night.”

His brows furrowed. “You’re the only person I’d excuse taking up my time. Besides, that’s just common decency, sweetie.”

You blushed and gestured again for the hairdryer. You couldn’t fall for his pretty words. You weren’t that stupid. Halting your thoughts, you cleared your throat and corrected your posture. “Still—I feel like I owe you and this will make us even.” 

“Okay, deal.”

You half expected him to counter your statement and ask for more. You wouldn’t have faulted him if he had. You knew what you were suggesting wasn’t an even repayment for the time he lost, but for a man who had everything this was the only thing you could do on the fly.

His tall frame casted a shadow over you as he approached; all damp skin and wet hair. He handed you the wireless hairdryer. And then sitting on the ground at the foot of the bed, he sighed. “I didn’t know all I needed to do to get you to be nice to me was let you sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and shuffled back a little after feeling the heat of his wet body on the inside of your thighs. You tried to keep a small amount of distance not wanting to accidentally touch him. You leaned forward and cursed inaudibly at the difficult angle.

“I don’t know what hair you’re going to be drying from back there,” he cooed. Wrapping his hands around your ankles, he pulled you closer to him.

“Hey!” You yelped, sliding forward till you inner thighs pressed against his wet shoulders.

“That’s better,” he said, letting go.

 “You’re crude.”

“I was just making your job easier, kitten,” he purred.

You nudged his shoulder with your thigh and turned on the dryer. Your finger ran through his hair as you watched the water dry out and the soft greyish-white return.

Sylus closed his eyes and leaned his head back till you could see his face.

You paused. “You’re not making this easier for me,” you said, peering down at him.

He chuckled deeply. “I can’t help the fact that you have magic hands, I’ve never been so relaxed.”  He lifted his arms and rested them atop your knees like armrests. “Have you ever thought of changing careers?”

You snickered. “Are you sure you’re rich? Surely, you’ve had much better treatment than this.”

Sylus laughed with you. The sound called you broke in every way but with words. It reminded you of aged wine and expensive cuff-links, two things you had never associated with a voice until him.

You turned off the dryer and placed it on the bed.

“Why did you stop?” Sylus opened his eyes. He stared up at you from your lap. And for a man so good at being invulnerable, he looked extremely soft.

 “Your hair is dry.”

“So it is.” Sylus lifted his head. “Thank you.”

Mephisto cawed loudly and swooped out of the room. Taking Mephisto’s departure as your sign to escape too, you began to shuffle back,.

 “Where are you going?” Sylus wrapped his hands around your ankles once again stopping you.

“Mephisto is gone,” you stated as if the answer was obvious.

“And? He’s a bird, it’s not good for him to stay in one place. You’re not a bird, are you?”

You could see the hurt in his eyes.

“But it’s morning. I have stuff to do. And you should get some sleep,” you said.

“What stuff?” he asked.

You shrugged. You didn’t have many plans—maybe meet up with your colleagues. Not that they were concered about your whereabouts. Your phone hadn’t rung once.

“Since you don’t know, why don’t you stay? Your flight back to Linkon isn’t for a few days yet.” Sylus suggested, letting go of your ankles.

“Stay?”

He stood from the ground and by some will of the gods his towel stayed on. “Yes, stay…with me. It’ll be just us.” He placed his knee on the bed.

Your spine stiffened as you backed away. “I can’t lay around all day.”

“So, it’s okay that I did? Come on, sweetie, that’s not fair. Stay..” He placed his hands on either side of your head, caging you. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You pushed his chest gently—not exerting any real effort. “I dried your hair.” As much as you wanted to leave, you weren’t opposed to being stuck under him. Any sane woman wouldn’t be, especially when he was like this.

He caught your wrists and pinned them to the sheets by either side of your head. “Come on, kitten, we both know that was wasn’t an even deal.”

“What if Tara comes looking for me? Or the rest of my colleagues?” you spluttered.

“They know you’re with me. They won’t disturb,” he purred.

You pursed your lips. You knew he was right. That didn’t mean you wouldn't stop trying. “What about Mephisto? He might—“

“No one is going to disturb us, sweetie,” Sylus interrupted. “Just say you’ll stay. You were restless the entire night.”

“And you’re the one who is restless now,” you retaliated. In the settled silence, you could almost hear the thump of his heart. “Besides, I’m not tired.”

“We can fix that. Come on, sleep with me.”

You gave him an unimpressed side-eye.

“What if I said I wanted to hear a story? Would you tell me one?” he asked. He let go of one of your hands and trailed his fingers down the side of your face. Tucking them under your jaw, he guided you to look at him. His darkened gaze fell between your eyes and lips, dancing caution. Like you were a deer caught in headlights ready to disappear with any sudden movement.

“Why are you suddenly being so clingy?” you asked.

He hummed. “Am I?”

You nodded. “And you’re being too nice.”

“Are you saying I’m crass, miss?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

His eyes narrowed playfully. “Let’s say for your sake that I’ve learnt not to scare an easily startled kitten.”

“How kind…”

With his fingers still under your chin, he guided your head off the sheets, bringing you closer to him. “So, what do you say. It is a simple yes or no…sweetie?” He peered at you through thick eyelashes.

“Why should I?”

“I can hear your heart beating in sync with mine,” he said, bringing you closer.

“You’ve got me pinned to your bed—of course my heart is racing.”

“I can see the desire to stay in your eyes.” He brought you closer.

You scanned his face, barely millimetres away. “Still not good enough,” you said.

He let out a low scoff, looking directly into your eyes. “Because I need you,” he whispered against your lips.

And then he kissed you.

When you closed your eyes, you saw an expanse of dark teal grass dusted with withered, red-stained daisies and carnations. You looked around, first at the red silk dress draped over your body, and then at the tail of mangled dark scales trapping you. Beside you rested the head of the dragon-like creature, protecting you in its slumber. Your eyes traced its surface, taking in its shape and appearance—the long forked tail, wanderer-like body, and large horns. It was like nothing you’d seen before. And yet, you weren’t afraid of it.

You followed its scales with your hand until you reached its face. It stirred beneath your touch. Its deep, unconscious breaths halted as you stared into the giant red eye of the creature. Its pupil slit as it watched you, unmoving, as if waiting for your reaction—the screaming and shouting.

You dropped your hand. You hadn’t meant to wake the beast.

A low grumble reverberated through the creature’s body, one of disapproval.

You crawled slowly toward its face, watching its reaction for any signs to stop.

It stared at you, unblinking.

“Hello there,” you said, stopping beside its high cheekbone and deep crimson eye.

It didn’t respond, continuing to silently observe you.

“Do you have a name?” you asked.

Silence.

A sharp squawk made you look up as a crow flew in circles over the two of you. In the star-sprinkled sky, the crow was a black shadow with beady red eyes passing in flashes. Its speed caused feathers to flutter off its body and cascade down to the ground.

You lifted your hand and watched as a single dark feather landed on your palm. A smile curved on your lips as you admired the large feather, bigger than any crow’s feather you’d seen before—about half the length of your arm. You lifted the feather to the creature.

“For you,” you said to the creature, unsure of whether it could understand you or not. You knew you should have been afraid of the monster. You knew you should have run when you had the chance. But something about it seemed defenseless—tired.

It glanced down, motioning for you to place the feather on the ground.

You put it close to the creature’s jaw. “Where did you come from?”

It didn’t respond.

“What is this place?”

The creature moved its head closer to you, offering its snout.

You placed your hand on the creature’s face. “I suppose you don’t speak human,” you said. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a wound oozing thick blood. Your hand moved to it, blocking the hole in its chest.

At the added pressure, the creature grumbled. Slowly, its eyes closed as if to sleep—or perhaps even to die.

“Did you get this whilst protecting me?” you asked. You knew the creature needed healing, or some kind of regeneration. But its core was shattered. Under your fingers, you could only sense how weak it had gotten. It was not strong enough to keep the creature alive, let alone save it.

The creature blinked slowly.

You took that as a yes. “You shouldn’t have done that. You don’t even know me.”

It blinked again, slower this time as you felt its soul slipping from its body.

“I can help you,” you said.

You could help it. It was an ability you had, a one-time bonus that came with having your resonance evol. And you would use it—even if it cost you your power. Even if it bound you to this creature for eternity.

The creature made a sound of disapproval. And with its little strength, it moved away.

You froze so as not to anger it further. Movement was only making the creature’s wound worse.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Think of it as repayment—common decency, if you will.” You waited for it to move again. When it didn’t, you approached it, lifting your hand. “May I?”

The creature didn’t respond, its breaths deepening.

“Thank you,” you smiled, placing your hand over the wound again. The tips of your fingers glowed as white mist gathered the embers of his evol and molded them with your own before sealing itself in the hole in his chest.

“Don’t close your eyes,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Stay with me.”

Sylus’s hand under your chin brought you back to reality as it moved to rest on the base of your throat, over your chest bone. His other hand, still holding your other wrist, unravelled. Trailing up to your palm, his fingers caressed the smooth skin before he intertwined your fingers  with his. He didn’t exert any force. No, he was careful. His body wishing, pleading, begging with yours for something beyond your awareness. Something only your soul could answer.

You could hear it promising you everything…the world, the universe. At the small price of…you. You knew he meant it. You knew this feeling. You’d felt it in your dreams. Or were they visions? Or perhaps memories from a different you.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remembered the mangled inhuman creature and the sweet, damning taste of pomegranate seeds. And you wondered if this was how you would lose your soul—without ever being told it was on the market.

You broke the kiss. Instantly, you missed the minty taste of his lips.

  “Was I too rough?” Sylus asked. Dishevelled. Searching.

You had never seen him so disgruntled. Not since he was told you were disgusted by him after you’d met.

You shook your head.

“So, it’s something else then?” Sylus began to pull away. His hand slipped from yours, taking the connection with him.

You wanted to be thankful for your freedom…but it was too late, you already resigned yourself to your feelings.

You missed the heat.

You missed him.

Stay with me.

Was this delirium? Or some kind of Stockholm Syndrome? Loving a creature so twisted—so different from you. One who only wore the skin of a prince to lure in and devour the heart of a princess.

“Sylus,” you said. Sitting up, you caught him around his neck before he could get too far away. And with the strength you had left, you pulled him back to you. And kissed him. Silently telling him that you wanted this—you wanted him.

All of him.

And whatever that choice brought with it.

You knew he wasn’t perfect. In other lives maybe you hadn’t chosen to stay—to remain with him and his promises of grandeur amongst the destruction he sought. Maybe this time you’d chosen the path least trekked with the monster whose intent was only ever written about in the annals of history as that of the slain and evil. Ultimately, you didn’t care. You supposed that thought alone was immoral.

Sylus moaned into the kiss. It was quiet, guttural, and just enough to make you want more. You let him guide you back onto the dark silk sheets, your lips moving together all the while.

“I will,” you said between kisses. “I’ll stay.”

He didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder than any words either of you could have said.

masterlist

my ao3: Everparanoid

[moviecritc]

Hi I don't know if you write about Charles and Alexandra, but what about something based in obsessed by olivia rodrigo, in a more sapphic way, maybe reader and alex can make out or something. also if you can mix it with smau would be super cool 💕

obsessed ⋆ charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader (various fc) x alexandra saint mleux

warnings: some bad words for the three of them (it was for the sake of the plot, nothing to harsh)

a/n: i made her a singer to add more drama. also i loooved this idea, i've been wanting to write something like this so much, thanks for requesting it <33

Remember that requests are open 💕💕

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc and 145,824 others

yourusername some visuals from the Paris music video 💜🩷💙

view all comments

user1 i felt so seen in the first verses of the song, i'm also a sucker for gossip

charlesleclerc 💜😍

user2 so dry

user3 what is someone so cool like yn dating someone so boring and simple like charles

user4 graduated in cuntology with a master in slayfication and cum laude in mother is mothering 101

sabrinacarpenter princess of glittery gel pen songs 💜💜💜💜

user5 IM SO IN LOVE

user5 that i might stop breathing

user6 yn using paris as a joke bc charles is monegasque is beyond cuteness

user7 GOALS.

user8 imagine having YN LN as a gf and NOT POSTING HER leclerc you better watch out

user9 it's giving taylor and joe

user10 THE HEARTSSS never beating bi allegations

When Y/N saw the Instagram notification, curiosity got the better of her. Just curiosity. She and Charles had been dating for almost six months, and this was the girl he had been with before her, so she simply wanted to know who she was. She scrolled through her posts, seeing the life she had after breaking up with Charles; she worked at a museum in Monaco and at the same time was an influencer.

Looking at her photos, she realized she was very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Her hair was healthy, long, and a gorgeous dark brown, her body was perfect, the clothes fit her great, and she had a very sweet voice. She wondered why Charles had ended things with Alexandra.

Then, as she scrolled through her highlighted stories, she accidentally liked one. Y/N immediately threw her phone down. "Shit," she said, grimacing. "Shit, shit, shit." She picked up the phone again and saw the red heart on a photo of Alexandra in a bikini with a beautiful sunset in the background. Y/N stared at the photo for a moment and then removed the like.

She ran her hands over her face, feeling like an idiot. Alexandra would still see the notification, then she would see that Y/N had removed the like, and she would probably think she was weird. Or worse, she could message Charles, asking what his girlfriend was doing stalking her profile.

Charles was at the Grand Prix of Canada at that moment, she was in Monaco. The time difference was huge, and she wasn't going to bother him with this nonsense. So she decided to message Alexandra directly.

Y/N couldn't stop thinking about Alexandra for the rest of the day. She found herself a couple of times staring at her pictures, she knew that Alex lived in Monaco and that they could bump into each other anytime. That idea felt amazing. She seemed like a gorgeous person, and the little chit chat they had felt really comfortable, even when Alex was her boyfriend's ex.

Y/N didn't mention any of this to Charles, he probably just make a big deal of it and they would have a discussion. And she was too lazy to think about arguments.

So she wrote a song. For the nexts days she focused on the lyrics and when Y/N handed the papers to her producer, they loved it. As soon as they could they recorded the song.

When Charles came back from the race, he found Y/N staying after midnight in the studio so she could finish the song. And he didn't complaint, because he really thought the song was about him.

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yourusername 'obsessed' is now yours, with the mv starring @alexademie 🍒🍸💎

the comments have been restricted

alexademie so proud of this project 🤧💙

sabrinacarpenter MISS? i was not expecting this at all and it was so so good 😩😩

gracieabrams QUEEN. in capitals and screaming.

chappelroan so cunty, so hot, so sapphic.

laufey ok now IM obsessed with YOU.

She didn't even think it was a bad idea until she saw her. They had decided to meet at a private club in Monaco; Alex wore a black satin dress that fit her extremely well, with her hair loose as she had seen so often in photos and a sparkling gaze. Y/N felt stupid for only wearing a white top and jeans.

"You showed up," Alexandra said with a smirk.

"You thought I wouldn't come?" she asked, matching her expression. Alexandra lowered her head, saying nothing and tucking her hair behind her ear. Y/N went to the bar and ordered a round of shots, although she didn't need to get drunk to do what she was about to do.

She drank one and then watched as Alexandra imitated her.

"Where did you leave Charles?" Alexandra asked, pulling her to a sofa area. The club wasn't very crowded, but more people would start arriving soon.

Y/N clicked her tongue. "Charles is the last person I want to talk about right now, honestly."

"You're right," Alexandra agreed as she nodded. "Let's talk about the song, then."

Y/N looked at her with a silly smile, trying very hard not to feel embarrassed. Although she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about, she could see from Alex's expression that she had liked the song.

"What did you think?" she asked, sipping her cocktail.

"I loved it. I never thought someone would write songs about me," she lowered her gaze a little and then Y/N noticed how she had the tip of her heel circling around her foot.

"Did Charles ever dedicate any of his piano songs to you?" Y/N asked, furrowing her brow a little.

"Charles never even dedicated time to me," Alexandra looked away a bit.

Y/N nodded, perfectly understanding what Alexandra was talking about. Charles was too focused on his career, and unless you asked him, he could completely ignore you for weeks or change plans you had been planning for months because he had to train. That was the kind of person Charles was. At first, it had been a dream, accompanying him to his races and spending time with him, but when you scheduled a tour to be able to attend most of his races and he didn't show up at almost any of your concerts… It affected you.

"Men," Y/N said simply, rolling her eyes.

"Exactly! They're unbelievable, in the worst sense of the word," Alex spoke, slightly laughing.

They fell silent for a few moments, not breaking eye contact. The music had been turned up, and they were bathed in purple and green lights, moving around the room. Alexandra almost glowed for Y/N's eyes; under that lighting, everything seemed unreal. She leaned toward her, but didn't make the final move, wanting Alex to take that step.

Alexandra smiled mischievously and pressed their lips together. It was a calm kiss, not too long but their lips touched enough to explore them calmly, and for Y/N to remember the slight scent of red licorice from Alex's cologne.

As they separated, Alexandra got as close as possible to Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder. "Are you drunk?" Y/N questioned, fearing for a moment that it was all an act of alcohol.

"No," she denied vehemently.

Y/N didn't think much more about it, discreetly grabbed her phone to text Charles that it was best for them to end their relationship. She and Alexandra kissed a couple more times that night.

Five months later

alexandrasaintmleux just posted a story!

[caption 1: opening night 🍒 @yourusername] [caption 2: best view 💖]

[starlostastronaut]

NEW YEAR TRADITIONS WITH SKZ

ot8 × reader - fluff, headcanons

summary - what new year traditions would you do with stray kids

links - masterlist

note: this is a scheduled post i've had prepared for about a week. writing hiatus is still ongoing. also traditions are taken from this website

happy new year my loves! ✨️ i still have few hours until midnight left, but i'm posting this a little early, so i don't flood it with end of the year posts. may your new year be as amazing as possible and i'll see you all in 2025 <33 enjoy reading! <3

BANG CHAN - jumping seven waves

chan took you to spend new years with him in australia

to welcome the new year, you decided to have a picnic on the beach and watch the sunset

which was when chan suggested the tradition

he read online how people in brazil jump over seven waves for good luck and wanted to try it

well, the sea was right there and everyone could use a little extra luck anyway

you held hands as you stood in the water together

LEE MINHO - eating twelve grapes

as soon as minho heard about the spanish tradition, he had to make it a competition

and being just as competitive, you agreed

it was a tradition meant to bring good luck, but it also looked like a fun activity

minho prepared the grapes in pretty bowls for when the midnight comes

you sat opposite each other as midnight approached, both treating as a serious matter

you both managed to finish in time, but you were a few seconds faster (which meant you were absolutely going to bring it up any chance you got in the following year)

SEO CHANGBIN - smashing peppermint pig

changbin heard about the tradition from one of his friends

at first he thought it was a little funny, but it was supposed to bring good health and happiness and you get to eat the candy afterwards, so why not?

you laughed when he showed up with the pig and explained the tradition to you, but seeing how excited he was, you agreed

it turned out to be pretty fun when you eventually broke it and fed each other pieces of the pig

you made a mental reminder to do this again next year, and maybe try out some other traditions

HWANG HYUNJIN - midnight kiss

hyunjin is nothing but a romantic

he always wanted to do the midnight kiss tradition with his partner, so when you decided to spend new years together, he immediately started planning

he decorated his place perfectly and you had a lovely evening

when he asked you about the kiss, you agreed immediately, since you wanted to ask him the same

he sets at least 3 timers to not forget and miss midnight

HAN JISUNG - new year movie marathon

jisung and you are both homebodies, prefering to spend new years together at home, rather than partying out with your friends

but you spending time lazying around in the comfort of your home was pretty much a standard and you wanted to do something special still, since it was new years after all

so jisung proposed a movie marathon, but only movies that would match the vibes

you searched up top new years movies, making your own list of what you and jisung liked the most

and so new years was spent in jisung's bed, cuddling and watching movies all evening (and the following morning)

LEE FELIX - watching fireworks

originally felix wanted to set off your own fireworks, but you quickly shut that idea down

luckily for felix, every year there was a big firework show and your balcony had the perfect view

felix came over in the afternoon, working hard to turn your balcony into the most perfect coziest spot to sit together

when the sky got dark, you two went out on the balcony, felix poured champagne into glasses while you prepared some snacks

cuddling under a blanket, you watched the firework show together

KIM SEUNGMIN - writing new year resolutions

everyone knows seungmin is organized and likes to plan things

and when he suggested making a resolutions list to follow, you thought why not

before midnight you sat down together, writing down your wishes and challenges to tackle in the new year, decorating the papers so they look pretty

right before midnight you pinned your lists to the fridge so you can be reminded of them every day

(and it wouldn't be you two if you and seungmin didn't make fun of certain resolutions you each wrote down)

YANG JEONGIN - light sparklers

jeongin wanted to do something fun for your first new years together

so he went out and bought (probably too much) sparklers for you to light together

as soon as it got properly dark, he was tugging you outside

at first you took some aesthetic pictures, both solo and together

jeongin ended up running around and drawing shapes into the air with the light and after taking a video of him, you joined the fun

© starlostastronaut 2024 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

[desi2go]

Sick days

pairing: sick!Hyunjin x reader

Warnings: fluf

Summary: You imagined your day off differently. But taking care of your sick boyfriend was even better.

Being with Hyunjin was like a soft breeze that played with your hair and kept the busy thoughts away from you. It was like a sunset at the beach. The bright colours were exciting but calming. Every day was a new adventure, a new story.

As a nurse, you dealt with a busy and hectic schedule and Hyunjin was always there after a long 12 hours shift to bring you comfort. Like a breeze his fingers brushed through your hair as you hid your face in his neck, trying to get the annoying smell of disinfection out of your nose.

He was your safe space. Whenever you felt down or self-conscious, he grounded you and build you up. As an idol, he always worked ambitiously to perform the best for his beloved STAY. Even though he was exhausted, he makes sure that you are okay and looked after you at the end of the day.

He texted you, that today's practice would run late and you shouldn't wait for him. You just came home from your long shift and it was already 11 pm. You hoped that he wouldn't overwork himself and come home quickly. You quickly changed out of your work clothes and jumped under the shower. Then, you cleaned the dishes from the morning due to the missing time because nearly overslept. Luckily, you had managed to get to work in time but without a breakfast.

You figured that your boyfriend would be starving when he will get home, so you ordered takeout.

You yawned and cuddled further into the couch with a blanket draped over your lap as you watched your favourite TV show again. Well, you loved to watch it with him.

Hyunjin came home in the middle of the night. The clock in the hallway said that it was long after midnight and he felt terrible. Today's practice was a pain. It seemed like everything he did was slow and forced. There wasn't the usual easy flow, the balance and the melody didn't took over his body. It didn't guide him and that was frustrating, especially since the comeback season starts soon. He must give everything and more for his friends and STAY.

After he slipped out of his shoes, he walked into the living room just to see you on the couch. Your hair that was once in a neat ponytail was now all over your face and your head leaned against his pillow that you must have stolen from the bed. He chuckled quietly and quickly showered. Then, he kneeled in front of you and brushed some hair strands out of the way. Your nose scrunched and you stirred awake.

"Hello my love. Were you waiting for me" he whispered as your sleep driven eyes blinked at him and a small smile danced over your pretty lips.

"Yeah, I ordered takeout for you" you answered and rose from your snuggly place to stretch out your sore muscles. As much as you loved that couch, that you two bought together after moving in, the bed was way more comfortable. He pecked your forehead and went to heat up the food.

You followed him and cuddled into his side as he ate his food. You were sleepy and just enjoyed the warmth of your personal human heater. From time to time he cleared his throat.

"You ok?" You asked as he did it again. "Yeah, just drank less water while practicing"

You grapped him a bottle of water and a glass. You can imagine that sport made your throat pretty dry especially when you dance for hours.

...

The next morning you woke up in an empty bed. Jinnie was already up and probably at the company. It was your day off and on those days even though you were an early riser, you sometimes enjoyed sleeping long. As a nurse, a good sleep was rare.

With a good mood you danced through the apartment and cleaned it. You checked Jinnies schedule that he had sent you in the past so that you always know where he is and can easily visit him.

Maybe you can watch him practice with his group later in the afternoon since it was a rare occasion due to work. He always loved when you support him. It only makes him more ambitious and hyped he had told you. And the other boys adored you. Especially Felix, Hyunjin's best friend or soulmate like they often state, was fascinated by you. Maybe that's because you lived until you were ten in Australia and then moved with your family to Korea.

He was also the first member Jinnie introduced you to. As his best friend, he knew from your relationship from the beginning and when he finally met you, he was even more convinced that you were the perfect match for Hyunjin.

But also Seungmin was like a brother to you. From the first moment you met the younger boy, you liked him with his cheeky attitude and the sweet toothy smile.

You figured that you should buy the whole group something to drink when you went to the studio. On the way, you stopped at a café and ordered drinks. You just sat in your car once again with the drinks on the passenger seat, when Felix called you.

"What's up, Lix?" You asked and started the car. "Are you coming to today's practice?"

"Yeah, on my way right now. Why?"

"I think Hyunjin is sick. He is totally pale and already vomited"

"I'm coming. I'll be there in 10" you answered concerned. You knew Jinnie. Whenever he is sick, he wants to keep going. He just works him to death because he won't admit that he was ill and needs to rest.

Balancing the nine cups in both hands, you managed to go through the security that already knew you and bid you politely hello and and took the elevator to the floor where the studio was. You already knew the way there after walking it hundreds of times.

In the hallway, you could already hear the music and the squeaking of the shoes. With a foot, you pushed the door open and yelled a greeting over the loud music.

Seeing the drinks in your hands, they quickly scrambled to you in no time and helped you. You spread them and you all sat down. Happily, they drank like they lived in a desert with no water at all.

They all were already sweaty and chatted.

Jinnie kneeled beside you with his americano in one hand as he layed his head against your shoulder.

"Hey baby. Is everything ... was that a shudder?"

You asked him. His clothes were wet with sweat but occasionally he shuddered like he was cold.

Concerned, you placed your drink beside you and touched his forehead to feel how warm he was. And he was warm, it felt like his skin was burning under your touch. A shudder jolted through him again.

"Are you feeling bad? Can it be that your sick Jinnie?" You asked and brushed a stray hair strand back out of his face. Your eyes danced over his pretty face. He was indeed pale.

He just shook his head and murmured that he will go to the bathroom quick. The first steps were staggering but then he felt suddenly nauseous and covered his mouth and paced through the room to get to a washroom. You had observed that and jumped up to follow him.

You found him in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. He gagged and emptied the contents of his belly. You sat next to him and rubbed his back while his body tensed up with each gag. You brushed soothingly through his wet hair.

Drained out, he leaned against the bowl, taking shaky breaths.

"It's okay, baby." You cooed.

You helped him up after some time and he got rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth through rinsing it out. Some tears ran down his cheeks as he breathed heavily.

"Everything alright?" Chan asked as you two walked back into the room.

"You look like shit" Seungmin stated and continued sipping on his drink. "I'm okay" he answered with a hoarse voice. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Definitely, you didn't just puked your guts out" you said ironically.

"I told you he was ill!" Felix shouted and rubbed your boyfriends shoulder.

"You should rest. You can't dance when you're ill" Chan told him.

"Come, let's go home and rest" You exclaimed and circled his waist with one arm.

Only after the whole group literally forced him to go home, he followed you quietly to your car. You opened the door for him and went to the driver seat to take your poor boyfriend home.

The whole drive was completely quiet as Jinnie rested his head against the window and tried not to get nauseous. He felt bad for leaving practice. With the new comeback, he didn't want to disappoint his fans, his friends and you. Especially not you. You were the most important person to him and you should be proud of him so when someone asks you about him, you should be proud to say that he was your love. That was all he wants.

As you parked the car, you turned to your boyfriend. He was still pale but the nausea seemed to fade. His eyes were closed and even though he looked exhausted, he was like an angel. So beautiful. Though with his newly red dyed hair he looked more like a devil. Just the sweet horns and the tail were missing.

You rounded the car and opened his door. His eyes fluttered open and you smiled. Like a puppy, he followed you to your apartment while you carried his bag.

Unlocking the door, you let him in and took your shoes off. You leaned his bag against the wall.

"Wanna take a shower first?" You questioned because he was still sweaty due to practise and he shouldn't catch an even worse cold. He nodded and went through the hallway to the bedroom to get some comfy new clothes. Meanwhile, you let some water in the bathtub and searched for the bath oil that helps with colds. Immediately, the bath was filled with the smell of eucalyptus and sage.

You gave your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll cook you something light. If anything happens just say something and I'll come" Patting his hair, you leaved the room and started looking through your refrigerator and the kitchen cabinets to see if you had all the ingredients.

Fortunately, you got everything for a chicken soup. You brew a chicken broth with the meat and in the meantime you chopped leek, carrots and celery. Then, you added them to the pan and brought the noodles to boil.

The soup was nearly finished as Hyunjin returned. He circled your waist with his arms and layed his head on his shoulder.

"What's up, baby? Feeling better?" You asked and stirred the soup another time. "Yeah, a bit. Smells great, honey"

"Thank you" He let you go as you turned around to face him. Gently, you touched his forehead to check if he got a fever. And he was indeed burning up. From a cabinet, you took a thermometer and measured his temperature.

"You have a fever, baby" you stated and send him to bed so that he could rest.

Soon, you filled a bowl with soup for him and brought it him along with some medicine against the cold.

He sat up and slowly ate the food. You hoped that he could keep it in his stomach and he didn't need to vomit from it. And he definitely shouldn't take the medication without some food in his belly.

When he was finished, he took the medicine.

"Thanks, honey" he said and gave you a tired smile.

"Wanna watch our series?" You asked and quickly brought the empty dish in the kitchen. You will clean them later, now you wanted to spend time with your love.

He agreed and you took your laptop with you. You jumped beside him under the warm comforter and placed the laptop next to you. You started your current kdrama and cuddled further into the cushion.

Some time passed and Jinnie still held some distance to you. Usually, he would be all over you by now. Slightly, you turned your head and observed your boyfriend. His entire body was under the comforter with only his head out and concentrated on the screen.

"Everything alright?" You asked and he turned his attention to you.

"Yeah, just a bit cold"

You lifted your arm and signalled him to come to you so that you could function as his personal heater.

He shook his head and murmured. "Don't wanna infect you"

You heart swelled at how he still looked out for you. A loving smile danced over your lips.

"Come honey, can't let you freeze. I'll heat you up" Finally, he came closer and layed his head on your chest while his hands caressed your hips.

You touched his forehead to check if his fever was still high. But the medicine seemed to finally kick in. Then, you let your hands travel to his red dyed hair and combed through the silky strands.

He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the physical contact.

"I'm sorry" he mentioned after some time. "What?"

"I'm sorry for ruining your day off. You already have enough patients to care for"

"No! You didn't ruin anything!" You held his head in your hands and caressed his cheeks.

"I love to take care of you. In fact, I love to pamper you"

"I love you" he answered and let his hands run up your sides.

"I love you too" you told him and placed a loving peck on his forehead.

[justchelleing]

hmm I hope I did this right :'D

- Where's My love, SYML w/ Dazai :o + romantic !

Where's My Love?

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Gn! Reader

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Angst

Warnings: major character death, implied suicide, blood descriptions, mentions of death, cutting, implied death.

Synopsis: Dazai always tries to find his lover and when he sees them, he only says a 'hello' but never did he say his goodbye.

A/n: Thank you for requesting! Reader is refered to as 'them' or 'they'. Hope you'll like this! Dw you did it correct! Italic for flashbacks

Event // Ada.Masterlist // M.Masterlist

There was nothing he could feel, he held the cold and lifeless corpse of his lover; just as he did to his dear friend a few days ago. Cold pulse, it was the only thing he could find; coldness, just as who he was before he met them. How hard he tried to find the love they once held in their eyes. He didn't mind his bleeding hand, he could only focus on holding them. His bloodied hand was mostly theirs and a small mix of his. The tears that dripped to his scarred hand made it sting; just like a wound topped with salt. He tried to make their heart beat once again but it was hopeless, they only held him dearly—as if they were fine and smiled before their eyes completely shut; never to open again. He screamed their name at the top of his lungs before he slowly laid their body on the floor, just like they were resting. He walked away, numb tears escaping his hazel eyes. The room was illuminated by the warm sun they once loved, and the crimson blood was oozing out of the three bullet holes on their chest. He tightly clenched his hand, not minding how much it hurt from the wound. The rain started to pour while the bright and orange sunset was covered with dark, thundering storms. He walked away, turning his back on everything, the Port Mafia, Chūya, his crimes, Oda and you.

"Dazai-san? Are you there? Kunikida-san called me and told me to go to work with you." Atsushi knocked on a small apartment room owned by the Agency.

Dazai sat up and looks at his hand again. It was clean, no blood was leaving his body through a wound that once was. A mark was left there, a memoir that the day he got that wound was the one where he failed to save you.

"That dream again.."

A few tears escapes his eyes and landed itself on his hand, just as that day. He wiped them away after hearing Atsushi knock on the door again.

"Yeah I'm here Atsushi-kun!" He said through the door, trying to sound as cheerful as possible though his voice came out dry and hoarse.

"Are you okay Dazai-san? Are you sick?!" Atsushi asks, his tone full of worry and franty.

"Nop! I just woke up so please wait for me in a few minutes Atsushi-kun!" He said in his usual cheery tone making Atsushi sigh in relief. Dazai's words soon registered in his mind, and he began to panic.

"But Kunikida-san will scold both of us for being late!"

"It's fineee! Its just going to be the same old Kunikida!" He tried explaining while ramaging through his drawer, trying to find his bandages.

"But—"

"I'm gonna be quick Atsushi-kun, I'm just going to dress! You don't want me to go to the agency shirtless do you?" He said in a spiteful voice, wrapping his arms, hands, neck and torso with leftover bandages.

"eww no!"

"exactly" Dazai replied before wearing his shirt and vest. He glances at the scar again before opening the door and throwing in his overcoat.

"Let's go Atsushi-kun!"

He skipped to the agency with Atsushi behind him. They got scolded by Kunikida but it the end he was the one that took his hour long lecture and Dazai got punished by him.

The day passed again, and the moon showed in the midnight sky. Dazai was laying in his futon, staring at the dark ceiling, bottles of sake throws across the floor. He turned his head beside and saw them, a worried look was plastered on their face as they looked at him. He knew that his mind was playing games with him, despite that he came to caress their cheek to feel their warmth; but they disappeared, and his hand only met the cold and empty sheets beside. He clenched his fists tight before standing up and grabbing his overcoat and leaving his messy apartment. Walking in the dark streets lighted by the faint moonlight, was something both of them used to do. He gently smiled at the small memory before continuing to walk, he arrived at a small greeny fields in the outskirts of the city.

"Darling! Osamu! Wait up!" They said before panting.

"You really need to run faster my love!" He turned around and saw them with furrowed eyebrows. He chuckled before going to them.

"You're so unfair! I'm on my slippers because you called me and told me it was an emergency!" They pouted, taking his assistance and grabbing his hand for support.

"It is an emergency! I was bored and I missed you!" He pointed out.

"Haii.. whatever.. Don't you dare try to lie to me" They sighed shooting him a worried look before caressing his bruised cheek, and he leaned on her hand.

"What do you mean love?" He sent them a cheeky smile, trying to feign innocence and ignorance.

"Osamu." They said his name in a serious tone, and he only laid his head down.

"I-its nothing" He quietly muttered, getting closer to them, trying to feel their warmth.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here" The hand cupping his cheeks snaked it's way to the back of his head, as he leaned his head into their shoulder.

Their hand slowly and gently patted the back of his head while he hugged them. The silent crickets are the only thing that was heard. He felt scared, he didn't want them to know his line of job in fear that they would leave him. They were a civilian and he was a mafioso—no an executive of the Port Mafia, the rulers of the night. He needed comfort, he wanted to tell them how his friend betrayed them and now the other was dead; but he couldn't, he was afraid of them abandoning him too. Nobody spoke a word, they didn't bother to ask him more, they just waited for him to open up. They gently hummed a tune as they waited for him, their voice was like a lullaby that comforted a scared and crying child.

The event plays on his mind, seeing illusions of that day in the fields, he could not remember what happened afterwards. He put his hands on the pockets of his overcoat as his fingertips got colder and colder. Walking to a small cliff near the ocean, a name was carved in a rock just near the edge, beside it, was a fresh bouquet of roses. He leaned against the grave as he closed his eyes, reminiscing the old memories.

"Hello love... I missed you" He gently smiled, feeling the cold breeze pass.

A faint voice whispered comfort in his ear.

"I missed you too.. tell me.. is that little girl, the one you told me about—Kyoka, I think—is she okay?"

He felt his hair ruffle, as if someone was playing it just like they did. He wanted to open his eyes to know who it was, but he knew that they would disappear just as he looks behind. He knew that he was just thinking how they would respond but he didn't mind it.

"Mhm.. the conflict was over and the Moby Dick returned to the ocean... Kyoka's now home with the agency" He whispered, trying to feel their warm.

"That's good.. How is the agency treating you.?"

"hmm.. Atsushi-kun is as usually kind.—" he faintly smiled.

"—oh, Kunikida tied me to a chair earlier and beat me up because I was late, it hurt a lot. Ouch" He dramatically whispered and they faintly laughed in return. Silence once again came, the howling winds and the clashing waves are the only things that can be hear besides his lone heartbeat.

"Come back to me please.." His voice cracked. He heard no response, he opened his eyes and looked behind to see nothing but a view of the night sky and the dancing leaves. A part of the cloudy sky was clear, showing the moon perfectly, as if it made way for someone to go high above.

"I'll go to you soon love.. and if the heavens forbid it... I'll fight against God myself just to return to your embrace" He sat up and glanced at the grave once again before finally returning to his apartment.

He closed his door and muttered a small "I'm home" hoping for someone to respond. Taking off his shoes and overcoat, he took a blade from his bathroom drawer, and then made himself comfortable in the bathtub. He rolled up his sleeves and sat up, positioning the blade just perfectly on the veins in his wrist. With one quick and deep slash, blood started gushing out of his left wrist. He winced in pain, taking the blade once again, he slashed his right wrist; it was less deep than the cut in his other wrist but nonetheless, it was deep. Blood started to drip to his garments and bathtub, his vision started to blur and he leaned completely to the wall, closing his eyes. At the last moments of his life, he remembered what happened after that day.

"Hey... If you don't want to tell me it's okay, but don't ever try to hide your emotions from me.." They smiled at him, their fingers playing with his hair.

"What do you mean? I don't hide them—" He left their embrace and tried to put on a facade.

"Osamu. You don't need to hide them" They said, walking upfront, their voice was full of calmness, just like a lullaby. Their arms was behind them, their right hand holding their left arm

"Fine... But let me ask you this then." He looked at their back with a serious tone.

"Why did you come in the middle of the night to a cliff just because I told you to do so?" He asked, his gaze following them as they walked forward to the edge, admiring the moon. They continued to hum before they responded to his question.

"Because I love you" They turned around and smiled at him. They put a strand of hair behind their ear, as the wind passed by.

"mmm.." He opened his eyes to see their illusion planting a kiss on his forehead.

"I..finally..found..you...." His voice slowly faded into nothing but air.

It was as if time stopped for a mere second. The pain that engulfed him whole was now only faint. Their warmness returned to him and his vision completely faded to black, submitting to the sleepiness he held after hearing them hum his favorite tune...

[lowkeyrobin]

Hey dude! :D I was wondering if you could do a charlie slimecicle x Reader where he introduces them to chat for the first time? Thank uuuu

oooo yeah sure! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

SLIMECICLE ; introductory statement

summary ; you meet Charlie's chat for the first time

warnings ; language, talk of being in a bar/meeting at a bar

word count ; 678

e/c = eye color

masterlist

Charlie was in love with you, drowning in your love, even. He found your pair of e/c eyes and found himself stumbling over his words the whole night at that bar. He couldn't stop looking at you, your smile, your dancing with your friends.

He sat with you in the back corner booth later that night, around midnight, while his friends and your friends were doing their thing. He started small talk that led into laughter, and once the night was over, he didn't want to leave.

"Why don't we do something crazy?" You suggest, merely buzzed unlike all your friends.

"Huh?" He asks, grabbing the last can of beer he was sipping from as he stands up.

"Why don't we talk later?"

He smiles, glancing away for a moment. "Yeah, sure"

You loved him more than anyone else in the world could've loved him, from the quiet times to the loud ones.

You'd watch the sunsets on the porch swing, the sound of the chain links only pulling you two closer. You had his heartstrings tangled, your eyes brought him to his knees, your smile felt like an Earthy Sunday morning in the middle of no where to him.

He loved you more than anything in this life, you were the only thing he needed.

He bragged about you a lot on stream and to his friends, and he understood that you were always too shy to come on camera. He didn't mind, though. You were always out of frame in the corner or in another room listening to him or watching his stream.

But today, something came over you.

You were tired of having your Instagram on private, with him never posting pictures with you in them. You decided to just join his stream and get it over with and meet his fanbase.

It was worth it for everyone at this point, you'd been dating for over a year now, it wasn't that you felt like you owed it to his fans, you wanted to do it for the good of everyone even if it didn't make sense. You wanted to show him off, and he wanted to do the same.

He sits down at his desk, setting up all the screens to how they normally did when he streamed. You sit beside him in a spinny chair, spinning it around while he sets his things up.

He gives you a little smile as you slow the chair down, feeling dizzy. He starts the stream and welcomes his incoming audience with the Stream Starting Soon screen. He looks to you again, making sure you still look up for it.

You give him a happy nod, and after about five minutes, he fades the screen out to the webcam, showing you two sitting together.

You shyly wave while Charlie says hello and introduces you.

"This is Y/n, my partner" He smiles, looking at you to say anything.

"Hi, I'm Y/n." You shyly smile, "We met at a bar"

"Ranboo, my main man," Charlie smiles, "Set me up with them"

The chat explodes with positive comments. Most are complimenting you, others congratulating both of you. It brings a smile to your face, seeing all this support and all these compliments, it was the most you'd seen in your life.

"See? They love you" He chuckles, resting a hand on your shoulder. "This is gonna be a QnA stream, I guess," He looks to you for a moment, like he was looking for approval. "So send us questions!"

You nod, giving a thumbs up, a little nervous. Of course, the nervousness began post-introducing yourself.

"How'd we meet?" Charlie reads, "At a bar. It was me, Ranboo and Sneeg, and I saw them across the bar, fell in love at first sight"

You smile, "Later in the night he joined me in a corner booth and we talked for like, an hour, cause we were both tired but didn't want to leave our friends with no ride home"

"Oh, I would've left them, I stayed for you"

[palladiumfragments]

a void in the shape of me

there i was, with a torn nightdress at midnight / ophelia in the river, catching glimpses of an endless twilight / i let the phantoms take hold of me, poisoned my thoughts / until the truth is whichever is worse / but in the middle of it all i knew / it will be my name you'd murmur, in the dark / when your hands are in her hair / you'll look into her eyes and for some reason it vexes you / that they don't resemble a rivulet of pitch black ink / you'd graze your lips on her neck  and you'd secretly wait for the faint smell / of vanilla and mocha that will never come. 

angelic she may look now but somehow it doesn't matter / you're too tangled and anchored to me / that your skin still longs for my touch / and when the labyrinth shifts again / she will only be a stranger / and you'd recall how my fingers / used to skillfully put the pieces back in their places / enchanted the forest may look now / but somehow you couldn't get lost in it / no matter how badly you want to forget / the trail signs will only remind you of the things / you've always loved about me / every bend on the road will resemble / the street of our first apartment.

go on, suffocate the haunting with cheap liquor / but darling at the bottom of every bottle / is the aperol spritz sunset from five years ago / seventeenth of february, when we were eighteen / soon the glamor will fade and her arms around you /  will feel like a rain-soaked pillory / you'd dream of me as she sleeps next to you / you'd see me in places we frequented / and in places i never go to / a superstar will play on the radio / and you couldn't help but think of me / and when the constellations in your head / start to make sense again / it will dawn on you that they have always spelled my name. 

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 7: How They Kept Him Very Well

Wordcount: 1.1K

~~~~

“You know, if you keep feeding me like this, I’m going to gain weight,” Virgil says, settling back in his chair with immense satisfaction.

“No offense, but you look like you could use it, Jack Skellington,” Roman tells him.

“Hey!” Virgil protests, though he isn’t actually particularly offended. Roman’s not wrong, for one thing. Virgil certainly doesn’t have the time and energy—or skill, honestly—to make as good food as Patton does. These last couple days have been the most well-fed he’s been since he moved out to be an independent adult.

Roman pushes his chair back and hops up. “Ready for movies?” he asks eagerly, already heading for the doorway.

“Roman Augustus Sanders, do not leave your plate on the table,” Logan says tiredly, but without heat. Roman freezes mid-step, shoulders raising guiltily. Slowly, cartoonishly stiffly, he spins back around.

“Oops.”

“I can’t stay anyway, remember?” Virgil asks. “I gotta get going so I can bike home before it gets dark.”

Roman's eyes go wide. “I. Forgot,” he says with a grimace.

“It is well past sunset,” Logan informs Virgil. “I am afraid that ‘before it gets dark’ is no longer possible tonight.”

“Oh.” Well, fuck. What's he supposed to do now!?

“Sorry,” Roman says. “I did not take the passage of time into consideration. I'll make it up to you. Do you want me to drive you home? I'll drive you home right away. Or you could spend the night again, and I'll take you to work in the morning?”

“I have tomorrow off, actually,” Virgil says, which is the first thing he can think of in response to that extremely generous offer. Roman brightens.

“Oh, perfect!” he says. “That means you can stay the night and then take your bike home tomorrow when it's light out!”

Virgil hesitates, glancing at the others. “Are… you sure that's okay?” he asks.

Logan shrugs. “Unless you have plans for your day off and would prefer to be taken home tonight, that would seem to be the most expedient method,” he says.

“No, I… No, no plans,” Virgil says.

“So you’ll stay?” Roman asks. Virgil hesitates, then nods. Roman whoops, bouncing. “So can we watch Unfortunate Events then?” he asks hopefully.

Virgil can’t help smiling, Roman’s excitement contagious. “Sure, soon as you take care of your dishes,” he says.

Roman sticks his tongue out at him, coming back to gather them up and take them into the kitchen. 

Virgil takes care of his own, and Logan puts the leftovers away tonight. The instant their dishes are rinsed and in the dishwasher, Roman whisks Virgil off to the theater again.

One episode follows another, as they eagerly discuss, theorize, and refuse to stop on cliffhangers. They pause, once, because Roman wants to make popcorn, and once more a few episodes later for a bathroom break, but otherwise they continue watching episodes back to back.

Eventually, Patton interrupts their marathon. He’s wearing his grey cat onesie again, and yawns as he opens the door.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks.

Roman pauses the episode and glances at his wrist, on which he is not wearing a watch. “What time is it?” he asks.

“Midnight-thirty,” Calico says, and yawns again. “Logan’s already asleep.”

Roman catches Virgil’s eyes and makes a wide-eyed whoops expression at him. “Stop after this one?” he suggests, and glances at the screen again. “I think we’re almost done.” He presses a button on the remote and pulls up the time bar thing. “Yeah, ten minutes left,” he says.

“Sounds doable,” Virgil says, glad that he doesn’t have to get up for work tomorrow. It’s going to take him a while to wind down enough to fall asleep, and if it’s already past midnight, he would have had no chance of getting anywhere near enough sleep. Hopefully they won’t mind him sleeping in, because otherwise they're going to have to literally drag him out of bed in the morning, and that might spoil their weirdly good opinions of him. “Probably another cliffhanger though.”

“Probably,” Roman agrees. He sucks in a breath, drawing himself up. “We shall have to be strong and resist the siren’s call of another episode.”

“Ten minutes?” Patton asks.

“Ten minutes, beloved,” Roman promises.

“Okay,” Patton says sleepily, and closes the door again.

Ten minutes later, they are indeed left on a cliffhanger. It takes real effort not to continue despite their promise, but Roman visibly gathers his strength, screws up his face, and points the remote at the tv. “For love and cuddles,” he says, pressing the power button.

“Where should I sleep tonight?” Virgil asks as Roman leads him tiredly up the stairs.

Roman shrugs. “Same room as last time unless you’d rather join us,” he says. “We can share Paddy Bear.”

That’s… that’s a joke, right? Roman didn’t just seriously invite Virgil into his bed, invite him to cuddle with his boyfriend. Right? Virgil chuckles uncertainly. He’s even tireder than he thought, to not catch the jesting tone. Or maybe Roman’s too tired and deadpanned too hard.

Probably a combination of both, Virgil decides. It is late. “I think I’d better not,” he says, trying to match Princey’s levity. “I don’t know if you snore.”

Roman gasps in pretend offense, pressing his hand to his chest. Then he leans forward and relates in a conspiratorial tone, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Logan snores like the most adorable rumbly kitten purr.”

“Does he?” Virgil says, grinning. Roman nods happily.

“He does,” he says. “It is adorable, but it does take some getting used to, so I can’t blame you for wanting your own room.” Roman yawns, then reaches up to pat Virgil’s shoulder. “Night, Spoops,” he says. “See you in… I dunno, prolly not the morning. See you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Princey,” Virgil answers. “Sleep well.”

Roman pats Virgil on the shoulder again, then shuffles off into his bedroom.

The room they had put Virgil in last time is nearly as he left it, except that the pajamas have been moved to the nightstand. Virgil carefully does not touch the bed as he changes, knowing that if he had been unwilling to leave it the first night, the exhaustion he can feel in his bones will make it a veritable black hole of comfort tonight.

Pajama-clad, Virgil turns off the light and climbs into bed. He sinks into the softness, comfort claiming him, and is asleep faster than he knew was humanly possible.

~~~~

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Summer Days Gone

Astarion centered || M || 5.7+ words || ao3 || Masterlist

Magistrate Ancunín seldom held private hearings in his office; once granted an open ear, most people overstayed their welcome all too readily, believing their problems to be more significant than they actually were. All too often had he witnessed this ill-mannered behavior, though, once in a while, there were esteemed guests who were eager enough to make his time appropriately worthwhile.

warnings: abuse of power, corruption, semi-graphic descriptions of violence, death, implied sex trafficking, racism, blood. Cazador Szarr.

a/n: Summer Days Gone was written for a server exchange event and I publicly apologize to @ollysoxisfree for publishing her gift two weeks late even though we were given more than enough time to work on our exchange pieces.

Olly, thank you so much for your patience—I sincerely hope you enjoy the read! ♡

And another big thank you to @leomonae for the beta-read!

Magistrate Ancunín nodded along to the lengthy complaints of his guest. His mind had been wandering for a while now, as had his eyes; ever so often he found his gaze straying towards the nameplate crowning his desk, the beautiful star speckled blue irises staring right back at him from the polished metal. Should he wear his new lavender waistcoat for his meeting later that evening? The Magistrate pursed his lips. No, his favorite silver vest would do nicely; it so brought out his eyes and would be just right for the mild sunset hours of early summer. 

And besides, it wouldn’t hurt to bring his lucky charm, would it?

 “Magistrate?”

Suppressing a frown, Magistrate Ancunín glanced at his guest. Although stout in physique, the Gur woman’s face was gaunt, her black eyes underlined by circles almost as dark. She was visibly troubled, that woman, and, to make matters worse, didn’t look as if she would be taking her leave any time soon.

That was why the Magistrate seldom held private hearings in his office: once granted an open ear, most people overstayed their welcome all too readily, believing their problems to be more significant than they actually were. All too often had he witnessed this ill-mannered behavior, though, once in a while, there were esteemed guests who were eager enough to make his time appropriately worthwhile.

It had taken Magistrate Ancunín only one look at the woman on the far side of his desk to know that she was not one of those guests.

“I was saying—“

“I heard you,” the Magistrate lied. “What I do not understand, though, is why you’ve come to me with your undoubtedly legitimate matter of concern regarding...” He shifted through piles of papers in front of him until he found the letter the woman—what was her name again?—had sent him this past spring. He quickly read over the report, acting as if the little doodles shining in the midnight blue of his signature ink in its margins weren’t there. “The disappearance of—“

“My brothers and sister did not simply disappear, Magistrate,” the woman said, clearly fighting against a scowl threatening to take over her scar-streaked face, as if she were a kind teacher whose patience was finally about to run out. “As I’ve told you repeatedly, they all headed out to investigate a specific location and were never seen again.”

With a mix of amusement and growing irritation Magistrate Ancunín considered the woman’s practical braids and worn hunter’s garb, the cheap boots leaving dust all over his new carpet. Who did she think she was? “With all due respect, that rather sounds like occupational hazard to me.”

The woman tilted her head; there was a grin on her lips now that could only be described as annoyingly victorious. “So you do agree that there is a monster prowling the Upper City—one powerful enough to ‘disappear’ my most skilled hunters?”

Magistrate Ancunín, overplaying his surprise with a scoff, let his eyes dart to the letter in front of him yet again. He hadn’t been aware that the Gur had vanished from the Upper City, in fact, it was the first time he’d heard about it. But, now that he read the woman’s—Varra, if he’d deciphered her signature correctly—letter more thoroughly, he had to admit she’d mentioned that very detail a number of times. 

The Magistrate’s heartbeat quickened. This surely was interesting—inconveniently so. 

If only to keep his hands busy, Magistrate Ancunín took up his swan feather quill. Its golden tip caught the afternoon sun pouring into his office through the high south-facing windows. Their new brocade curtains would be delivered soon, as would the new furniture for his townhouse. The Magistrate thought about the jewelry that had yet to be picked up from the shop, and, most of all, he thought about his upcoming meeting. 

Slowly, he glanced up at Varra again. It occurred to him that she’d been observing his every move; if he wasn’t careful, this meeting could very well turn into a problem he couldn’t afford. Not now. Not because of the Gur.

Magistrate Ancunín leaned back in his chair, forcing his spine into a straight line as he stoically met Varra’s hardening gaze. The Gur would only become a problem if he let them.

And he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“I agree with the City Watch’s findings that there’s no evidence whatsoever that your people have been, well, what? Been abducted? Murdered? Eaten by carnivorous butterflies?” The sneer in his voice didn’t seem to impress Varra much, prompting the Magistrate to go on with the same bored tone he usually reserved for petty criminals entirely beneath him. Their cases weren’t much different from this one to begin with, the Magistrate told himself. The Gur weren’t worth his precious time. “There are no monsters in Baldur’s Gate.”

Varra shook her head, but before she could voice her protest, the Magistrate raised his hand dismissively, silencing words he didn’t care to hear. 

“I understand that a city free of monsters is compromising the livelihood of your people, but have you considered that, maybe, it is time you took your business elsewhere? Somewhere you’re actually needed? I hear there are plenty—”

“Do you know why I came to you with my concerns, Magistrate Ancunín?” Varra’s demeanor had changed. Whatever little glimpses of impatience the Magistrate had been able to catch in her face before were now well concealed behind a nonchalant little smile; in the blink of an eye, the shabby woman across from him had turned into a seasoned diplomat whose every word was calculated and every thought a mystery.

It was the tightly clenched fist at her side that gave the illusion away.  

Magistrate Ancunín, although rather new to his position, had seen his fair share of people just like Varra: stubborn people. Desperate people. People who didn’t know when to submit. This woman had come to say her part, and, like the dying clinging onto life, she wouldn’t leave until her last words were heard. The Magistrate sighed, knowing from experience that humoring her would eventually bring a speedy end to this irritating meeting. “Do enlighten me.” “I’ve been watching you.” The Magistrate raised an eyebrow, but Varra only continued, unfazed. “Unlike many, you haven’t come to this city in search of power.” “And what am I searching for, if not power?” Varra considered him, the beautiful elf sitting behind his stately desk, his neatly tied hair and manicured hands. She watched intently as Magistrate Ancunín shifted in his seat. 

“Life,” she mused after a moment, never letting him out of sight. “I thought—hoped, really—to have found a kin in you, for we, too, have come to this city looking for life. A good life.”

The Magistrate’s lips tensed into the sorry semblance of a smirk. “A good life that depends on the death of others?”

Varra let out a laugh, short and high. It never reached her eyes. “The death of monsters, yes.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, only broken by the way the Magistrate’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. Embarrassed, he wondered whether the woman could hear how much she’d rattled him. The rustling sound of paper dispelled the silence as the Magistrate lazily shifted through the stacks of notes, documents and letters on his desk again; anything to keep his hands busy. Anything to break the silence. 

Eventually, feeling uncomfortably small under the Gur’s observant gaze, Magistrate Ancunín cleared his throat. “If there is nothing more to say, madame, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. I’m rather busy, as you can see...” 

Varra stared at him blankly, her mouth twitching with anger and more words she undoubtedly wanted to let go but, to the Magistrate’s surprise, she turned out to be a reasonable woman after all. The only thing that passed her lips was a gentle sigh.

“Pity.” And Varra was right: it was a pity, indeed, but Magistrate Ancunín didn’t know that—not yet, though he would soon enough. For now, he only felt a deep sense of relief watching Varra rise from her chair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any service to you, but know I do wish you and your people the best.” The words sounded dishonest even to the Magistrate himself but, thankfully, Varra didn’t comment on them. Instead, she just gave a curt nod of good-bye; the diplomat in her had been replaced by the warrior who knew when she’d lost her fight. 

And she was just about to take her leave when she suddenly froze in the movement, prompting Magistrate Ancunín to follow her gaze to a thick envelope on his desk. Recognizing its broken seal, he felt the tips of his pointy ears turn red at once. 

“Have you met the master of that house, Magistrate?” Varra asked flatly.

There was no need to clarify which house she’d meant; as sinister as a drop of blood on freshly fallen snow, the lavish letter S stamped into crimson wax loomed right between them. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet, no,” the Magistrate admitted against his better judgment, his voice softer than it needed to be in his own office. “Not personally.” 

A moment of silence passed, then another. Then—startling the Magistrate—Varra laughed once, sharply, and this time, it actually reached her black eyes. 

“You’re a perfect fool, Astarion Ancunín,” the Gur grinned. “But I suppose so am I.” Before the Magistrate could protest Varra’s insolence, she wordlessly headed for the door, though she did look back once—not at the Magistrate, no, but at the tall windows. In the distance, the afternoon sun bathed the Gate in a golden light; a promise for all the bright days yet to come. 

“Summer is fading fast,” Varra said, almost to herself, before, at last, the door fell shut behind her.

Magistrate Ancunín’s shoulders slumped; it took him longer than he would have liked to compose himself. But, eventually, his heartbeat calmed. 

He scoffed. 

What a foolish woman, that Gur! She knew nothing—she was nothing. He would show her soon enough.

But first, the Magistrate had to hurry, lest he be late for his meeting; he couldn’t afford to let his generous clients wait. 

Muttering profanities to himself, he opened a desk drawer and dumped the cursed Gur’s letter inside where it could mingle with unpaid bills and other forgotten correspondence. The letter with the crimson seal vanished in Magistrate Ancunín’s briefcase before he stood, stretching his aching spine. It was time to go. 

Summer was just about to begin. 

Astarion licked little beads of sweat from his upper lip, tasting the heady remnants of a fleeting lover’s kiss. Even this close to midnight, the sweltering heat of the past day lingered in the Upper City’s cobbled streets and dark alleyways, only to be disrupted by the rare breeze carried up all the way from the bay. 

Astarion inhaled deeply as he sauntered through his neighborhood, his shadow dancing around him in the soft glow of the streetlights. Almost greedily did he take in the scents of warm stone and perfumed garments, late night dinners and powdered skin; music and laughter seeping freely into the night through ever opened windows. Those made up the deliciously noisy composition of Baldur’s Gate—his city. 

Astarion grinned widely. His spirits were heightened not only by the alcohol in his bloodstream but the money in his pockets, the weight his name carried now. Astarion’s eyes wandered to the rings on his fingers that reflected the star speckled sky high above. Was that the limit to his good fortune? 

Amused, he shook his head. No, it was impossible, preposterous even, to imagine that this giddy feeling, this visceral happiness he’d found in Baldur’s Gate, could ever come to an end.

Astarion was drunk on life and deeply in love with this city, and nothing could ever change that. He’d worked too hard for this life—this good life. Whoever wanted to take it from him would have to rip it from his cold, dead hands.

Another breeze tugged gently at his silken tunic as Astarion passed a group of elven ladies and gentlemen enjoying the midsummer night. The sweet smoke of their pipes made his head spin pleasantly. The young magistrate should join them, they said; inviting smiles and glassy eyes of every shape and color followed his every move. How very kind—but, alas, can’t do. Long day ahead tomorrow! Next time, yes! For sure, next time! Thank you. It will be a pleasure. Good night. Astarion threw the group his most charming smile as he walked by, dropping it only after he’d rounded the next corner. Who did these fools think he was? Important men like him didn’t waste entire nights prowling the streets; he wasn’t some common alley cat. 

Not wanting to let the rude encounter dampen his mood, Astarion quietly tried to recite a poem he’d read just the other day. Working against the tides of alcohol swirling inside his head, the words came to him strangely slow as he made his way down the street. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. The sound echoed from the shuttered windows of opulent townhouses and neatly paved sidewalks before it faded into silence.

Silence.

Astarion paused. Only now did he realize how quiet the night around him had grown, how empty, how colorless. The streetlights had gone out, tinting his way home in varying shades of gray. With pursed lips, Astarion strolled on. It wasn’t like he needed any light to guide him home; if he squinted he could see the iron gate to his house some way ahead. It was still bothersome, though, this darkness—did nobody care to do their job anymore? 

A gust of wind caressed the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He stood taller. Not a second could have passed before Astarion heard what sounded like a coin hitting stone, the faint clinking sound reinforced by the unusually quiet night. 

Instinctively, Astarion’s eyes scanned the sidewalk around his feet, while his hand went to his coin purse, finding it intact. With furrowed brows, he glanced over his shoulder. All he could see were an empty street and sleeping houses, a rat scurrying from one alley to the next. 

Then he heard the same sound again, another coin hitting the ground.

Astarion jerked his head in the direction of the sound; he felt a sudden chill. 

The sound hadn’t come from behind him, but from ahead.

Frozen to the spot, Astarion stared into the gray-scaled darkness with narrowed eyes. 

There was movement somewhere in the shadows a few feet to his right; he’d only noticed it a heartbeat before he heard another coin hit the pavement. Astarion flinched. There was no doubt—someone was lingering in the dark alleyway separating him from the iron gate of the next house. His house.

 I’ve been watching you… 

The Gur’s words had stuck with Astarion from the moment they’d first passed her lips all those weeks ago. Every now and then, they echoed in his skull, steadily growing louder as summer progressed.

Not daring to blink, Astarion reached for the mean little dagger he kept concealed at his side. Another coin fell. He stared at the mouth of the alleyway, making out a shadow that appeared just a hue darker than the rest, growing in size—stretching towards the street. Towards him. Astarion considered his options. Should he attack, or run? He had nimble feet, he could easily outrun an assailant. The shadow was now big enough to pour out into the street. With the element of surprise, Astarion thought, he could take it up with one or two of them. If not, he could at least stall them and make enough of a commotion to wake the neighbors and alert a Watch on patrol, or—

The shadow rushed at Astarion before he could make a decision. In the blink of an eye, it had reached him. Its warm, sticky fur grazed Astarion's ankle; he cursed and promptly reached down to grab the shadow’s long tail before it could scurry past him. 

Heat rose in his cheeks as Astarion glared at the fat, squirming rat he held an arms-length away from his face. He felt like a fool. Of course there were no Gur in the Upper City; somewhere in the Court’s grand archives, a recent ruling had made quite sure of that. Astarion’s midnight blue signature had looked so pretty on the fine paper. 

He let out a shaking breath.

They couldn’t hurt him—not here. In his beloved city, Astarion was safe.

He simply didn’t know better, yet.

“Excellent reflexes, rat-catcher. Bravo!” 

Astarion wasn’t sure whether the shriek of surprise had come from the pest in his hand, or from his own lips as he spun around. There, but a few steps from him, a gentlemanly figure stood, its amused face the palest shade of gray Astarion’s eyes were able to perceive amongst the dense shadows of the night.

His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the figure. It took him a moment to recognize the stranger as the pale elf he’d spotted amongst the nightly crowds filling the Upper City every now and then; his thin voice didn’t match his haughty looks, Astarion found, nor the odd intensity in his eyes. 

A sudden chill raised the fine hairs on the back of Astarion’s neck as he followed the stranger’s gaze; appalled, Astarion let go of the rat. 

The animal darted off after it had barely hit the ground, vanishing in the same dark alleyway it had come from but a moment ago. Not meeting the stranger’s eyes, Astarion cleared his throat. “A plague, those rats,” he said, trying and failing to hide the nervous timbre in his voice.

The stranger gave a short laugh. It echoed mockingly in Astarion’s ears. 

“A plague, indeed. But with an expert such as you around there is no need to worry about rats, no?”  

Before Astarion could think of a reply, the stranger bid him good-night with little more than an arrogant nod of his head. The elf passed by Astarion, his lips curled into a satisfied grin as he, too, vanished in the alleyway ahead. 

A moment passed in which Astarion tried to collect himself. Where an almost absurd dread had settled in his stomach before, he now felt anger rise. The audacity! Who did that elf think he was, to mock him like this? He wasn’t some witless boy, he was the esteemed Magistrate Ancunín—smart, beautiful and important!

Rat-catcher…

Ears burning, Astarion moved on. If his tongue hadn’t been weighted down by alcohol, he would’ve shown that pasty dog exactly who he was—who he could be. The elf might’ve rattled him, yes, but only because…he had heard something odd before he’d had his run in with that rat, hadn’t he?

Only a step into the reaching shadows cast by the mouth of that cursed alleyway, Astarion hesitated. With furrowed brows, he listened. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a cat hiss. Crystal glasses shattering on cobblestones. Far-away laughter. The soothing noise of Baldur’s Gate.

Absent was the sound that had caught his attention before: coins dropping onto the empty street, one after another…It occurred to Astarion that neither the pale elf nor the rat could’ve made that sound.

Craning his neck, Astarion dared a careful look into the shadows. The alleyway laid dark and empty, free of any sign of life. Free of any danger—as it should be. As it had been all along. There was nothing to fear in Baldur’s Gate.

Only one thing caught his eye. 

With a smooth, fluid motion Astarion darted into the shadows, picking up three gold coins from the ground. For a moment, they felt pleasantly warm in the sweaty palm of his hand before he added them to the heavy coin purse at his side. 

Astarion hurried home.

He was grateful to hear his front door close behind him; elated by the color returned to his vision. In the sparse candlelight of his entryway, Astarion let his shoulders fall before he raked a hand through his curls. They stuck to the cold sweat lingering on his temples, the nape of his neck. Astarion sighed, wondering if the past night had left its marks on him. 

He took a look at the mirror on the wall. Star speckled blue eyes stared right back at him from a face that was as beautiful as ever. 

Were it not for the rusty red stain on his cheekbone. 

Frowning, Astarion raised a hand to his face, only now noticing there was half-dried blood on them and—oh!—on his tunic, too. What a shame, Astarion thought, he would never get the stains out of the fine silk…

With a shrug, Astarion wiped his hands clean on the cool fabric. He could just have a new tunic made—dozens of them.

After all, there was no end in sight to the sweltering midsummer heat. 

There was autumn in the air; he could tell by the crisp salty breeze reaching him from the harbor. It was still faint, the change of seasons, dominated by the stench of fish and waste and iron—but it was there nonetheless, unyielding. 

He shivered.

The wind tugged at the silver curls that were plastered to his face. It was an irritating sensation—he hated when someone messed with his hair—but not as much as the boiling wetness gathering in his lungs. Breathing was strangely difficult, though he couldn’t be sure what exactly had caused the inconvenience. Whatever it was, the part of his brain that was at odds with the tears streaming down his face supposed it didn’t really matter anyway. Not anymore.

He coughed. 

The puddle under his cheek slowly turned a darker shade of gray. On its surface, he watched the star speckled sky ripple—whether it was by his labored breath or the spit and blood leaking from his body, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the fat rat deigning to keep him company. 

Were those tiny feet able to rattle the stars? If so, its hunger was understandable, justified, even. A good life didn’t come without a cost.

Curious eyes observed the rat as it gingerly gnawed at the side of a crushed hand. Dark ink stained the crooked fingers, or maybe it was blood. Neither was ever easy to wash off. Could the rat eat it away, or did the stain seep through skin all the way to the bone?

A strange sound echoed through the dark alleyway. Somewhere, someone sobbed. 

What a proper fool, he thought, how embarrassing it must be to die in the gutter!

But, to his luck, an idea occurred to him as he listened closely. He had heard that noise, so maybe someone else had heard it, too. Nobody had answered his cries, but everybody knew that fortune favored fools—if they could be saved, why couldn’t he?

The rat scurried away with a sudden shriek.

It wasn’t good fortune that made the starlit puddle tremble now, though the Fool wholeheartedly believed it was—as was his nature. 

Soon, he would be schooled in the intricacies of his folly. For now, though, he tried not to choke on the blood gathering in his throat.

A pair of shiny boots entered the Fool’s field of fading vision; it took all his strength to raise his tired eyes, behold the person who would surely be his savior. Met with an oddly intense gaze, the Fool thanked all the gods that would hear him.

“Pity.” 

He recognized that thin voice; this time, he found it matched the disgust written all over that pale face.

The broken hand in the puddle didn’t move, even when the Fool wanted to reach out to his savior; his body had always been smarter than his brains.

“They were watching,” the Fool moaned, convinced he would be heard even when his voice was little more than a whisper. “They were watching me all along.” 

The pale elf looked down at him, lips pursed. Unfazed. Maybe he didn’t understand…?

“I say there are monsters in Baldur’s Gate!” The Fool coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, down his chin. It burned hot against the night. 

The pale elf licked his lips as he kneeled, careful not to soil his trousers in the black puddle at his feet. 

“And they got you, you fool, because you did not care to do your job properly,” he scolded as he roughly brushed a damp lock from the Fool’s forehead. “You cannot just drive the rats out, boy, you have to wipe them out.” 

The Boy, though he didn’t quite understand, nodded—at least he thought he did, as stone and dirt dug deeper in his throbbing temple. It seemed like it was the right thing to do; he didn’t want the pale elf to be angry with him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I can do better.” 

For what felt like eternity, the pale elf considered him with narrowed eyes. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Please, I’ll be so much better.” 

The Boy would’ve said anything, promised anything, and would’ve meant every word. Surely his savior could see that?

“I suppose I can give you another chance, then,” the pale elf mused, finally. “If you really think you can do it.”

“Thank you.” The Boy’s body trembled with a sob. “I can do it. Thank you!”

Long, pale fingers caressed his tender cheek, but the Boy didn’t flinch, even when they were as cold as the air, the cobblestones. Death. So unnaturally cold. It was summer, still, wasn’t it? Hadn’t he felt the sun warm his skin when it rose over the Gate only this morning? 

Maybe it was the gaudy sigil ring the Boy could glimpse on his savior’s finger—the opulent letter S—that made him think of crimson blood on freshly fallen snow. Yes, snow. So very cold…

Have you met the master of that house?

The Boy hadn’t—not personally, no. Not then.

He had now.

“And you promise to be my good little rat-catcher?”

His body spasmed.

“Answer me.” The pale elf leaned over him, engulfing him in a veil of darkness. “Will you be good?”

“Very good, yes,” the Rat-Catcher promised. His head rested heavily against the cold, pale hand; it did nothing to expel the feverish heat from his skin. “The best. I promise.” 

“‘I promise, Master’,” the pale elf corrected, claws as sharp as his tone digging into the Rat-Catcher’s jaw.

“I promise, Master.”

“Good,” Master Szarr sighed. “Do not disappoint me again, boy.” 

It was music to the Boy’s ears. Never in his life would he dare to disappoint the Master—he swore it to himself! And so he smiled when the Master’s face slowly crept towards his own. The Boy studied the porcelain skin of his savior, so pale that it was the lightest shade of gray in the night. A smirk, stretched impossibly thin. Intense eyes boring into his own…

But for a moment, the Boy glanced away; gray eyes meeting the star speckled sky, wet at the tip of his nose. It drenched his face and his hair, his favorite silver vest. Could he have a new one made? This one was quite ruined, he feared. 

A warm swell of blood came over his lips once more. His entire world—dark alleyways and cobbled stone; cold breezes and blood, so much blood!—could be contained on the surface of one stinking black puddle.

But he was more than that, wasn’t he? He had been so much more only this morning.

He was Magistrate Ancunín—smart, beautiful and important!

He’d been unable to outrun the Gur.

He was dying.

But Master Szarr would save him; although mysterious, he’d always been such a generous client.

There was nothing else that mattered now—Astarion would live, somehow.

He sighed, focusing on the colorless eyes that danced with the stars in the reflected night sky. His eyes were blue, like his signature ink. It looked so pretty on fine paper. The beaten and broken visage frowning back at him from the trembling surface of his world did not. Who did that ugly thing think it was, gaping at him like that? 

Astarion tried to ignore that face, but there was nothing else to see.

Nobody else.

That couldn’t be right; he could feel Master Szarr’s weight on him, long fingers tugging at his ruined clothes, a cold tongue licking over his blood-stained lips, but still… 

The pale elf did not cast a reflection. 

Astarion whimpered; from shock or the pain coming from his fractured spine as he tried to push away, he didn’t know. 

He was corrected at once. 

Szarr tut-tutted, pinning him down with little effort. Dying or not, Astarion had never stood a chance against this creature, though this didn’t keep him from trying. He grasped at the creature’s hair, tried to scratch its pale, blood-streaked face with broken nails. Bit the creature’s lips as it lapped up the blood around his mouth.

More than anything, Astarion wanted to live; he always had.

The creature laughed.

“My, my! Little liar, you promised to be good but a moment ago, did you not?”

No, not like this!

“If you do as I say, this need not hurt.” 

No, I don’t believe you!

“Enough!” 

Never.

“As you wish.” Szarr grabbed his jaw again, forcing Astarion’s head off the ground before he slammed it back against the cobblestone, not unlike the Gur had done a while ago. Bone cracked; Astarion wailed. Claws raked through his blood-streaked curls, scratching at his scalp. “Yes, let me hear how sweet those screams sound, boy.”

The creature opened its maw, exposing a pair of long, sharp fangs. They gleamed under the starlight, reflecting a pair of horrified gray eyes.

In that moment—the Magistrate, the Fool, the Boy, the Rat-Catcher, the Liar—they all wished Astarion had just died a good death when he’d still had the chance.

He screamed when the creature sank its teeth into the side of his neck.

No, please.

The creature chuckled, greedily taking its fill of what little life the Gur had left him.

Please, help.

A gentle breeze carried his screams from the gutter all the way to the Upper City. 

The creature tore at his throat. How much blood did he have left to spill, how much pain was there to feel?

If his beloved Baldur’s Gate had ever heard him, his agony must not have been worth its time; it mocked him only with silence.

He laid still, at last. 

Summer was fading fast…

And so was Astarion Ancunín.

Nimble feet carried the Spawn through damp corridors. Across the drafty entry hall. Into cold, busy streets. He scanned the bleak evening sky; if he were alive, his heart would skip a beat. How late it was already! He had to hurry now—the way to the Upper City was steep, and he couldn’t let his clients wait, oh no. 

Punctuality was of utmost importance. He couldn’t embarrass the Master, not again.

With a shudder, the Spawn straightened the stiff collar of his cape; the wool was rough against his ashen skin. He tugged it closer around him anyway. He had earned the cape for bringing the Master that glassy-eyed elf, the first of his many clients—the one who had made his head spin with her stinking pipe. 

Who had that bitch thought she was when she’d messed up his curls, pushed his face against the cold tiles of her room; this bitch, this rat—easy prey. The Master had instructed him well. 

The Spawn shook his head. Sometimes, when he was very still, he could still hear the elf’s screams echoing inside his skull. They hadn’t been as sweet as his, the Master had said, disappointed. Why must he always disappoint him so? He didn’t do it on purpose, he promised, but the Master did not care for idle talk, oh no. 

Master Szarr was an important man. Very busy. Best not waste his time. 

Frowning, the Spawn scurried past dark alleyways, over wet cobblestones. Somewhere in the shadows, a rat squeaked. He licked his lips, but—oh no, no—no time for that.

The Master had forbidden him to even think of eating before his job was done.

A sharp gust tugged at his ill-fitting cape; the Spawn stood a little taller against the wind. He wasn’t supposed to slouch, but he’d always had a weak spine—not that he would tell the Master that, oh no, he so hated excuses. 

The Spawn rounded a corner. Heavy fur coats hiding red-nosed faces pushed past him, the overwhelming symphony of their heartbeats echoing from the shuttered windows of opulent townhouses and neatly paved sidewalks. The Spawn pulled the hood of his cape deeper around his face, lest someone recognize who he was. 

Had been.

In every shadow, the noise of life prevailed. The Spawn could hear blood pumping through living bodies, so many of them—so much blood. The Master drank his fill every night; sometimes, the Spawn picked such a delectable feast for him that the Master allowed him to drain a small alley cat. Very kind of him, oh yes.

Night had stolen the last bits of color again, tinting the city in scales of gray; the Spawn had reached his client’s house just in time. They wouldn’t be so generous, he knew, not tonight. Not to him, oh no.

The Spawn hesitated to knock at the door. 

The truth was, there were monsters in this city. From the docks to the highest tower in the courthouse, in every alleyway. In all those fine houses. Behind every iron gate. From every black eye that watched him, a monster stared back. It was the only reflection the Spawn was granted to look at.

Slowly, he tilted his head back. Crimson eyes lost themselves in the murky puddle that was the night sky. From it, the palest shade of gray danced through the sky. It fell gently towards the dirty streets of Baldur’s Gate—a blood stain amongst freshly fallen snow.

Astarion still loved this city, he always would; it just so happened that the city didn’t love him back. It never had.

Brushing the snow off his shoulders, the Spawn sighed.

Summer had gone by so fast.  

tag list:

@spacebarbarianweird @bardic-inspo @kawaiiusagichansan

@darlingxdragon @herdarkestnightelegance @ayselluna

@chonkercatto  @anukulee  @roguishcat

@nyx-knox  ​​@anacdoce

[reve-de-sang]

for the Vamptember 12 Nights of Christmas prompt “holiday party”

“Oh my god, Daddy!” Claudia screamed ear-piercingly. (Claudia actually had the potential to cause damage; Louis surreptitiously checked to see if he was bleeding from an ear.)

She thundered down the stairs, eyes locked on the tree through the bannister as soon as her eyeline crossed beneath the first floor.

Vampire children—if there had been any others—got to start Christmas before any other children, they explained to Claudia. Why wait for the clock to strike midnight? Christmas began at sunset on Christmas eve: else how could you wake up from coffin to presents under the tree?

That first year she had been all tentative wide-eyed marvel. The floor around the Christmas tree had been completely covered in presents for Claudia in a radius of over a yard and a half. Unwrapping presents had been a process of hesitancy, building to increasing mania and glee.

This year she raced downstairs starting at mania and glee.

“I think she just made all the other kids in a ten block radius jealous,” Louis chuckled to Lestat as they trailed down the stairs after her.

“As they should be,” Lestat murmured, sliding fingertips down the arm of Louis’s new dark blue striped satin robe. Everyone was still in their sleep clothes, robes, and slippers that had been bought specially for the occasion. It was a party of a sort after all, Lestat observed: they needed to dress appropriately.

Louis and Lestat picked their way over the field of gift-wrapped boxes and packages Claudia had dived into, and settled next to each other on the sofa as Claudia tore through paper and ribbons, screaming with delight.

“She even has my eyes!” Claudia shouted at Louis, waving a porcelain doll that was an exact duplicate of Claudia down to one of her favorite blue dresses.

“But not your volume,” Lestat smiled as he draped an arm along the back of the sofa behind Louis’s shoulders.

She tossed the doll gently into a small mountain of crumpled wrapping paper—“Hey!” Louis laughed—and then she whipped a ribbon off a soft bundle.

“Remind me again how something called an ‘Erector’ is appropriate for our daughter,” Lestat said, eyeing a box in the growing swell of opened toys, clothes, accessories, and diversions.

Louis gave him a smile with his eye roll. “‘Educational, Instructive and Amusing,’” Louis quoted. “I know I’m gonna catch you playing with it, building little models.”

Lestat had leaned in to press his lips to Louis’s ear to whisper something about “playing with it” when Claudia screamed in rapture again, this time at a Bakelite vanity set. “See, I told you she’d like that,” Louis said.

This set off a private betting war on predicting what she would and would not be impressed by.

(x)

[moirindeclermont]

Welcome back, amazing people!! Ready to go back to Bridgerton? As mentioned, we will start with longer stories today, so I can't guarantee smüt in every episode. Eventually, though, these short stories will become spicy. (But this one .. this one starts spicy 🔥 🥵)

I'll post the link for the next episodes here in the following days.

Episode 2 | Episode 3 | Episode 4 | Episode 5 | Episode 6 | Episode 7

Today, I introduce you to Vampire!Colin and Pen... well, Pen has more than one secret. Enjoy!!

Smashed | A Polin Vampire!AU

Coming back to London was a mistake.

Colin was walking at night, the only time he was able to do so, and thankfully, he wasn't hungry. He knew hunting in Mayfoar was not possible, so he had taken a horse, gone to the outskirts of town, and fed. He could enjoy being around people only when he was full. Being a Vampire did not change his appetite. But that seemed the only thing that didn't change.

He still felt like Colin but wilder, more impulsive. On a good night, he felt free.

Nobody knew about him. Nobody knew because what was the point in them worrying and fussing about something he could not even explain. He was in Paris some weeks ago, and he was having the time of his life when he was attacked. The man was shorter than him but so strong he could barely move him. Colin remembers struggling to free himself. And then... Nothing. He woke up in the same street just before sunset. He got to where he was staying and noticed two little bites on his neck.

He went to sleep, and he felt different when he woke up again. The learning curve from that has been challenging. With no idea of what was happening to him, he was only puzzled by the fact that someone had passed him a curse. Condemned to live during the night and drink blood for the rest of his days.

So, he returned to London because it was familiar and safe. But even that felt anything but safe when he could not stop sinking his fangs into one of their servants.

Still, it wasn't like he had a choice. Drink or die. He tried to resist the hunger, but the less he ate, the more wild and unpredictable his inner creature became. Being fed at least allows him to interact with his family... And Pen.

Gosh, Pen. No matter how full he is, he can't stop thinking about her and the tingles she gave him. There was something different about her, something he had never noticed, but it was almost glowing when he returned.

So, he walked the street thinking about his best friend, trying not to get too overwhelmed by everything else around him. Creature of the night, or Vampire... Still, Colin never felt so alive. That also kept him awake more often than not.

Suddenly, a quick movement caught his attention. He focused on it, following the noise as quietly as possible. It was way past midnight, and usually, he was the only one walking. But that night, he wasn't alone.

After some minutes, he found himself in the garden of a noble family. In the middle of the labyrinth, people were talking.

Getting closer, he could clearly hear the voices. Men, dark and powerful. And a woman. Pen?

That was Pen, but what was she doing outside?

He couldn't help but sprint toward the labyrinth, but as soon as Pen was in his eye view, he stopped.

He assumed Pen was in danger... Another mistake, apparently. Pen was not in danger.

Pen was the danger.

She moved quickly and lethal, a short bullet that made quick work of the men threatening her.

The sight made him hard on the spot.

Colin could not keep his eyes off her.

And while watching her, a part of his mind imagined how it would feel to have that fiery woman in his arms.

He was in awe of her, and he wanted her around his cock.

It was a madness he never experienced before in his years as a human and in his weeks as a Vampire.

Soon, she was done.

Panting (and Colin could not not notice how the body was responding) Pen turned around and saw him.

And he knew she knew what he was.

Pen got closer to him, her eyes hiding from him for the first time.

"I guess we need to talk," she said.

Colin only nodded.

"Tomorrow after the sunset in your garden, by the Apple tree?"

He nodded again, still on edge.

She turned at that, walking towards home.

But then, she looked back at him again.

"Walk home with me?"

They didn't exchange a word; everyone was lost in their world. Colin was imagining all sorts of things but didn't dare to speak. There would be time tomorrow.

Pen looked at him one last time before going into her home. Colin did the same.

Once inside his room, he didn't waste time.

He took himself in his hand, and the image of Pen fighting those men came again.

He stroked himself thinking about her, coming strong on his dick, her breasts bouncing as he was thrusting into her.

He did not know what tomorrow might have looked like or what the conversation might turn into, but that night, Colin Brigerton, vampire fledging, discovered he had a crush on his best friend, Penelope Featherington, who apparently could beat several men without a scratch.

Maybe, after all, coming back to London was not the mistake he thought.

TBC

But in curious to hear from you, what do you think?

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter Three

Josh Kiszka x female OC

8025 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Even though this chapter is still smut-free, the rest of the story won't be.

Warnings: angst, yearning, kissing, fluff, conflict and violent behaviour, alcohol consumption, slowburn, mental breakdown, LGBT themes, homophobia (World's not perfect and some people suck...not the main characters though, don't worry).

Taglist

Previous Chapter Next chapter Olalla masterlist

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love With you

Every once in a while, you experience something nice that somehow leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Just like when you’re watching a beautiful sunset, thinking about how trifling and unimportant our daily feuds and worries are in comparison to the macrocosm and its wonders. The moment feels so precious. …but the world keeps spinning and as soon as you turn around, you once again find yourself submerged in the stale waters of your petty life.

Not that she felt that her life was in any way stale. It was just that as soon as she closed the door behind him, the whole encounter seemed like a fever dream in retrospect. One she wished would continue, because during those few hours, everything felt so new, so out of ordinary, including the fact that it did not continue. 

So, she tried to rationalize it and eventually concluded that she didn’t want more. This felt right…albeit weird, because it was simply different. He was different, and therefore dangerous. 

Much more casual encounters often ended in fucking. It was her reality. The guys she willingly chose to spend time with were either not interested at all in the end, or didn’t want to let go. At least not until they got a taste of all of her. Either way, it ended up in relief. Rinse and repeat. Joshua’s touch remained imprinted on her skin like some sort of sensory tattoo, and it left her mind racing. The effect he had on her was pretty much unwelcome, the feelings that came with it were not particularly pleasant, but she involuntarily clung to them anyway. 

His goodnight was definitive, and even though it didn’t feel like a rejection, it stayed outside her threshhold, just as he did. The night that followed was not good at all. The subconscious mind is a bitch. She spent it tossing and turning and waking up in between shallow dreams filled with images of his face just within reach, yet she couldn't bring herself to touch it. Before the actual dawn, she dreamed about them sitting on top of a mountain, watching the Sun rise. He was singing again. 

Reality hit back when Agnieszka’s alarm clock rang at 4:30. Having fallen asleep long past midnight, and then again around two and three – because she couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on her cheek out of her head – she woke up with stinging eyes and a burning headache, with a long day ahead of her. She slowly dragged herself from the cozy bed to start preparing breakfast and snack-to-go packages for early hikers. 

She usually enjoyed this. Morning chats over coffee were generally warmer and gave her the opportunity to talk to the guests about more than just how their day went and to connect with others on a more personal level, while sitting at the same table with them. They were a nuisance today. It wasn’t their fault. Just a group of young women in their early 20s and a nice couple getting ready for their last hike before going back home the next day. Definitely not an unpleasant company. Without admitting it to herself, or even consciously thinking about it, she just wished he’d be one of them. 

He was probably still fast asleep when she left to do some early shopping before her daily chores. He was already gone when she came back. Visitors kept their keys, but they were asked to leave special hangers on their door handles when leaving, which proved useful in case they wanted to have their bathrooms cleaned or sheets changed. So, of course she checked his door. And then scolded herself for her unhealthy curiosity. 

She almost forgot about him by midday, too immersed in cleaning vacated rooms and getting them ready for new arrivals. Fridays and Saturdays were the most hectic of the whole week, with people generally coming or leaving at weekends. Finally, after three pm, she could get some rest and enjoy her afternoon coffee (with just a drop of Bayleys) behind the reception desk, reading the book she abandoned the previous evening, with just a few interruptions that day. 

At half past four, the bell above the main door chimed again and there he was, entering quietly, but turning to a full theatrical mode the moment he saw her. This guy must be fun at parties, no doubt about that. He spread out his arms and trotted like a musical actor right towards her in his brand new attire. “How do I look?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. 

At first she thought her heart would jump out of her chest when she saw him for the first time since the previous night, but his easygoing, comical behaviour immediately made her relax. “Like a walking Columbia advertisement,” she laughed. 

“Yeah, well, I normally prefer flannels, but the guy at the store said this is more appropriate. I hate polyester…unless it’s sparkly…but I’m willing to try this,” he shrugged – tugging at the fabric demonstratively – and leaned familiarly on the counter. “How was your day?”

“Busy and boring at the same time. I should be the one asking that question. Have you seen or done anything interesting today? I mean, apart from becoming one of us,” she finished the sentence with a quasi-sultry whisper and dared to lean in closer to him. The truth was that the dark tight-fitting crewneck accentuated his lean and firm figure in a way that made her feel a bit uneasy. That man wasn’t just “quite attractive”, he was sexy! Humour and banter was her usual way of dealing with unwelcome butterflies in her stomach. And it worked, because they both giggled before he answered. 

“Nothing much, just wandering around. I didn’t dare venture far before breaking in these,” he demonstratively lifted one leg to show her his right trekking boot. “Besides, I don’t know it here. I tried to follow some folks, but the path turned to a steep and stony one pretty soon and my feet hurt like hell after just a couple miles and…” 

“Wait a minute,” she started rummaging under the counter. “I forgot to give you these. Here are some maps and leaflets with touristic tracks. Stick to those if you don't want to be chased by a bear. Also, it’s a national park, so you just have to anyway. Also, tomorrow’s going to rain all day, so you might want to visit the Tatra Museum.”

“Oh, bummer. The whole day?” The meaning of everything he said was amplified tenfold by his wild gesticulations and body language. It was like watching a silent actor, except he wasn’t silent at all. “Thank you so much for these? Any recs for a good place to eat? I tried the one right at the end of the street yesterday. It was good, but I’d like to try something more local.”

She reached behind her for some more leaflets and handed him a couple. “There are a few nearby. We serve dinner to our guests as well, but you need to preorder it at least a day in advance…but that’s usually just a plain, home-cooked meal, nothing fancy.”

“But that sounds fantastic! I’m pre-ordering dinner for tomorrow then,” he beamed, and added hopefully: “Care to join me today?” “I can’t, I need to go help with the dinner in about an hour and then I have some more things to do in the evening.” His face fell with a silent oh and for a brief moment she actually did hate her job. Was he asking her on a date? It certainly felt that way. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. It didn’t really matter. He wanted her to say yes and she didn’t want to say no, and even if it meant just two people eating together, it would be just fine. He lingered awkwardly for a short while before he wished her a pleasant evening, hoping to see her again soon. She didn’t want to let him go just yet, not just like that… “Joshua, wait!”

“yes…?” he turned back to her with his arms flailing around like a marionette. 

“My dad throws a garden party for our guests every Sunday evening...if the weather allows, that is. His grilled pork chops are delicious,” she tried to sound as casual as possible to hide the fact that she really wanted him to join them. “I…ummm…am supposed to invite everyone,” she added. 

“That sounds great, but…I don’t really eat pork…or meat in general.” He looked almost sorry that he didn’t. 

“Oh! Well, there’s always mom’s redcurrant pie, and some grilled vegetables, too…” Pathetic. 

“Lovely! I'll be there.” And with a beaming smile, he disappeared upstairs. 

The next day started as blue-ish gray when she woke up and soon turned to just gray. Breakfast didn’t need to be served before seven, as half of the people were leaving that day and the other half simply weren’t in a rush. Some even cancelled, preferring to go have fancier pancakes with ice-cream and forest fruit in some café nearby. Heavy rain was drumming on the roof and terraces, and the clouds were hanging low, turning the surrounding hills into a haunting, misty landscape.   

It was a lazy, sleepy day. A perfect day for a massage, or to go to the sauna…if you were staying in one of the fancier lodgings. The residents of Willa Eulalia were mostly bored, with just TV or board games to pass time. 

Nothing really changed much for Agnieszka. If anything, Saturday proved to be even more hectic, because mother wasn’t feeling well. So, the usual routine consisting of vacuuming, changing the sheets and cleaning the toilets turned to be even more tiresome, as she had to do it all by herself. 

The house went almost completely silent after lunch. It was already almost two pm when she finally reached the attic to make the room opposite to Joshua’s ready for a new visitor. She didn’t have much time left; new guests would start coming shortly. 

It looked like he was still in his room, possibly having a nap. The rain only intensified after lunch and it was fairly easy to get drowsy here, right under the roof. She turned on the vacuum cleaner on the lowest setting and proceeded to do what she was supposed to, while fighting off obsessive thoughts about getting drowsy with him… 

She was almost done when she heard some disturbance coming from the other room. It sounded like him arguing with someone. Honouring the house’s number one rule “privacy first”, she collected all her things and aimed to leave the attic as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough, though, because his sudden loud “I don’t fucking care,” followed by something hitting the wall, stopped her in her tracks. It was followed by even more incoherent yelling. “Something was not his fault and some Sam should do something instead, and someone was advised to suck his dick (Figuratively speaking – she hoped, half amused.), otherwise she couldn’t make sense of the one-sided argument. The call ended and she was finally about to descend the stairs, when he suddenly opened the door, making her jump. She shot him a terrified look and his own expression wasn’t much different. “Sorry for the noise,” he finally mumbled. “...I…need some fresh air.” With that, he ran past her down the stairs. 

The whole encounter troubled her, but she didn’t have much time to ponder over it, as she already had to hurry back to the reception to resume her afternoon duties, noticing him on the veranda on her way there. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about it though. The lobby was connected with the back veranda by a wide, transverse corridor, so when she leaned forward a bit, she could easily see him from her place behind the counter. He was still standing there, leaning against the balustrade with his arms outstretched and his head bent down. It triggered her inner caretaker. She couldn’t just leave him there like that, so she poured some fresh water in the electric kettle behind the counter and rummaged through her little box of teabags. 

“Hey, I made you some tea,” she approached him with the steaming mug and placed it carefully on the balustrade next to him. He looked at it and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Sheldon.”

She laughed at the reference but he didn’t reciprocate, so she continued warily: “The ghost called again? “No, that was my twin brother this time.”

“You sounded a bit agitated. I thought…”

“Olalla, I really, really don’t want to be rude, but when I said I needed fresh air, I really meant I needed to be alone.” 

She was taken aback by that and her eyes widened at him. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Thanks for the tea,” he sighed and left, leaving her alone with her thoughts again. Slightly shaken this time. 

He disappeared for the rest of the day. 

He didn’t come to dinner that evening either. 

She stayed on the veranda for a few more minutes after he left, drinking the tea she made for him and watching fat raindrops splashing on the stony path leading to the fireside. She was mad at herself for letting him occupy her mind the way he did those past few days. For the first time in years, she allowed someone to get under her skin, and for what. Now it stung, and it would eventually get worse if she continued with this nonsense. Rinse and repeat. So, she just shrugged it off with an annoyed huff and put her walls back up, just like she always did. The path from hurt to pissed off to indifferent was a short and safe one. 

And then, just like a gift from above, the bell at the front door chimed and she hurried back to greet three young and carefree handsome men who were waiting for her at the reception desk. 

She knew them. They were their frequent guests, one of them being also her regular hook-up. She had been looking forward to seeing him and his radiant smile again, but then nearly forgot they were coming. It was a welcome distraction now, the only downside being her sister Maya who was also arriving the next day to spend a week…and Maya hated him. 

Agnieszka knew very well why. Maya hated fuckboys and Bartek was the epitome of that. Pretty and vain and often notoriously bad-tempered when challenged, which meant he hated her sister back with passion. However, that never stopped Agnieszka from welcoming him with open arms, because he always gave her what she wanted and he never wanted more. He was one of her wolves. So screw tomorrow, she needed some comfort now. As soon as she finished her daily tasks and he freshened up and got comfortable in his rented room after the long ride from Poznan, he joined her in her quarters for one of their regular “movie nights”. They hardly ever finished watching any.

She found no comfort in his touch that night, though. After snuggling closer to him on the couch, she felt nothing. His thieving hands and intrusive tongue started to annoy her after a while. The excuse of being maybe a bit too tired was a lame one. It was not a complete lie and he knew she worked hard, but he seemed annoyed all the same. After she literally invited him to join her, she couldn’t really blame him, so she just slid on her knees on the floor and gave him head instead. 

There was something strangely calming about giving head and gagging on a cock. Those brief moments of not being in control made her feel like she could control everything else.. When it was finally over and she rested her head in his once again clothed lap, feeling his fingers scratching her scalp affectionately (but not too much), she felt calm at last. They were both half asleep when they heard a knock. Agnieszka slowly scrambled up on her feet, excused herself and opened the door to find Joshua standing there. 

“Hey,” he bounced on the balls of his heels with a tentative smile and his eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like I should apologize for being such an ass earlier. And…I’m making some mint tea and I thought, maybe you’d like some, too? Just to reciprocate your kindness, you know?” he nodded towards the common kitchen in the hall. 

Agnieszka bit her lip to stop her from smiling back. Not that he didn’t deserve it, she just didn’t feel worthy of giving it. She had her own kitchen unit in her apartment, so this was just a nice, albeit awkward gesture and they both knew it. He just didn’t want to approach her completely empty handed. 

“It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, and I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Joshua. I’m basically just a maid and I had no right to bother you when you were clearly upset by…whatever’s going on in your life. It’s not like we’re friends.”

He sighed and nodded solemnly. “I really hoped that we would be. I…anyway, I went to this store today. They sell crystals and stuff, and this kinda reminded me of your eyes. Please, keep it.” He took her hand, palm up, and placed a small malachite pendant in it. “Good night to you, Olalla…” He bowed his head down and was about to leave when a loud “kto to jest” made it snap back up to see a man suddenly standing in the doorway right next to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder almost possessively. Bartek looked first at Josh, then at the piece of stone in her hand and his eyebrows shot up. He was athletic and broad shouldered and, being taller by at least 5 inches, he towered over Joshua menacingly.

He was also shirtless, with the waistband sitting dangerously low on his hips. That, together with Olalla’s sheer bathrobe, told him everything he needed to know. 

“Oh, I see I’m interrupting…again, my apologies Olalla.”  Bartek didn’t even wait for him to leave; he slammed the door shut right in his face. The bang made Agnieszka jump. 

“Who the fuck was that, Olalla!?”  

“No one. Just a guest.” He had no right to do that, and she should have been angry, but his sudden shift in mood made her defensively meek. 

“Guests don’t come knocking on your door this late to give you trinkets unless they want much more than just room service. I thought one at a time was your rule,” he raised his voice and slammed his fist against the door. “Guests don’t call you Olalla!”

“Bart! Stop overreacting! He just…”

“Is that why you’re so frigid today? Bitch…” 

He grabbed the rest of his discarded clothes from the couch and before Agnieszka could even react, threw the door open again and stormed out. She started after him, only to watch him pass bewildered Joshua, who really was making tea in the common hallway kitchen. Bartek stopped in his tracks and hissed in broken English, gesturing back at her: “Already you can go back, Frodo. The dirty whore is your now.” 

With that, he disappeared down the stairs and left them standing there in silence. He with a jug kettle in his hand, frozen in motion; she clutching the door frame for dear life. From the look on his face, she could tell that he had overheard them arguing too, though he thankfully couldn’t understand a single word of it, though he must have gotten the general idea. They watched each other with wide eyes for a few long seconds, until hers welled with tears.

He could see hurt and shame and panic in them. “Olalla,” he whispered and slowly made his way towards her, but she quickly closed the door shut, crouched down and, overwhelmed with all the emotions from the past few days, started crying in earnest. She tried to suppress her sobs so that he wouldn’t hear her as soon as she heard soft knocks again. This time, she didn’t open. The whole house fell quiet again after a while. She slowly got back on her feet and unclenched her fists. 

A warm piece of polished malachite was burning a hole in her palm. 

The clouds finally dissipated during the night and the inhabitants of Willa Eulalia were once again greeted by a clear, pinkish sky on the eastern horizon, the Sun painting the whole mountain range orange. Most of the people left early, so after 7 am, only families with young kids were still in their rooms or on their balconies, enjoying the breakfast as well as the fragrant air after yesterday’s rain, already warmed by the sun. 

Agnieszka had lulled herself to sleep the previous night with a little help of a significant amount of vodka and not even the fresh breeze was of much help in easing the consequent nausea. 

She suffered through the morning, thanking god that both Bartek and Joshua were gone, hopefully for the whole day. It was just a postponement of her torture, but it was welcome all the same. 

Her younger sister Maya arrived shortly after lunch, and – seeing both her mother and her sister looked like they might fall asleep on the spot – she quickly took over their duties. Agnieszka excused herself and climbed in her bed, wishing to disappear. Maya tried to get her back on her feet a few times during the afternoon, but failed miserably. It was already past 8 pm when she arrived again. Agnieszka could hear that the garden party had already started outside her window, and she just wished Maya would understand that she didn’t want to join them. Apparently not…

“There’s a gentleman asking if you would join us.” 

“Tell Bart he can fuck off.”

“Pfff,” Maya scoffed. “I already did. That fucker and his idiot buddies went out anyway, probably to the World’s End. And by ‘gentleman’ I mean a real gentleman. Though he’s a bit of a weirdo.” 

Agnieszka suddenly had a huge lump in her throat, but didn’t say anything, so Maya continued: “He also told me what happened.” 

“He did what?”

“I was at the reception about an hour ago when the German lady from room 9 made a complaint about a noise yesterday evening,” Maya started to explain while she was rummaging in her sister’s wardrobe. She was obviously determined to drag Agnieszka out of her room and into the garden by sheer force, if necessary. “I obviously didn’t know what she was talking about, because my sister doesn’t tell me anything anymore. Duh! That’s when he walked in, overheard us, said it was his fault and apologized to her. Then he explained to me what really happened,” she finished and threw black yoga pants and a fluffy powder-pink pullover on Agnieszka’s bed. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Agnieszka mumbled into the pillow.

“Now you’re finally talking! Yeah, no shit. I figured. The poor guy obviously got dragged into your mess. And yet he still wants to see you. Seriously, who is he? And why is your face suddenly red like a baboon's ass? Is there a legitimate reason why Bart behaved like a total jerk this time?” she wiggled her eyebrows at Agnieszka theatrically. 

Agnieszka gave her an annoyed look. “I don’t even know who he is. And we just talked a few times. And…yeah, just talking. We spent an evening talking and then he kissed my cheek goodnight and that’s it.” She rummaged in her pocket and showed Maya the green pendant. “He also gave me this yesterday. Said it reminded him of my eyes. That was before Bart’s temper tantrum. I can’t go there, Maya. It’s better if I stay away from him, for the sake of his own wellbeing.”

“Wow. Interesting! So you’re saying the two of you are treating each other like real human beings? Didn’t know you had it in you. He’s sweet though, no surprise there. I think he likes you. His smile reminds me of…”

“Don’t!”

Maya knew she overstepped. But she wouldn’t budge. Instead, she sat on the bed and started stroking Agnieszka’s hair.

“Olalla, baby, stop shying away from people. Just go. Spend another evening talking. In spite of what you think, it will do you good. Besides, you invited him, and he’s there. It’d be rude not to show up.”

She could spot him immediately when she set foot in the garden. He was sitting on a piece of log by the fireplace, facing her. He was deep in conversation with some other guests, but as soon as he saw her, he gave her a radiant smile. His face was enchanting in the firelight, sparks dancing around it like fireflies. On her way to him, she stopped just briefly by the long table to grab a glass of wine. 

“Hey…” She still felt uncertain and a little ashamed when she reached him. “I…didn’t have an opportunity to thank you for this,” she continued, while toying with the pendant and looking down at him bashfully.

“Good evening, Olalla,” he beamed and gestured to an empty spot to his left. “Please sit.”

“You had the opportunity,” he added as soon as she sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Your reaction was more than understandable. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

“You must think low of me.” 

“I think highly of you! You’re a hard worker, you obviously love nature and those carrot cupcakes are delicious! Maya told me you baked them this morning even though you weren’t feeling well. So,” he cleared his throat and giggled. “Now we both apologized to each other, I’m gonna need your advice.” 

“What advice?” It was Maya, the nosy brat who just couldn’t miss an opportunity to stick that nose into anything that didn’t concern at all. 

He was taken aback for just a millisecond before he resumed his quick babbling again. The fact that he was now forced to turn his head from side to side gave him also the opportunity to start gesticulating wildly, which he clearly enjoyed. 

“So, I decided to go for a proper, all day hike today. But apart from the fact that I absolutely don’t know where to go – I was never good at reading maps – there were sooo many people everywhere! Which was a good thing, in a way, because I didn’t get lost. BUT…”

“Where did you go?” Maya interrupted him. The two of them were like two peas in a pod.   

“Kash…kashp…dammit! How do you guys do that? My tongue, ouch!”

Agnieszka finally laughed, for the first time that day. “Kasprowy Wierch?” 

He nodded eagerly. “Yea! That’s the one! Nice place, don’t get me wrong, but my god! It was crowded up there.”

“Of course, it’s Sunday, and you chose the only place with a cable car,” she explained, as both she and Maya laughed. 

“Well now I feel like a complete moron,” he responded to that in a cheerful tone and even wilder gesticulation. 

“So, what advice do you need, Joshua?” 

“Well, I was thinking…since you said that you work as a guide occasionally…that you would just go with me? I’d love to see some more secluded places and I can’t go alone – you said that yourself – and I wouldn’t even know where to go, so…please?” He grinned, batting his eyelashes at her. 

“But that’s mostly for families or older couples or…”

“But that’s a wonderful idea!” Maya interrupted her. “You should definitely go.” 

“I have work to do,” Agnieszka spat back. 

“Bullshit. I’m here until Wednesday, I can do that. And tomorrow’s going to be even more beautiful than today, according to the forecast.”

“Perfect! Olalla, pleeeeeease,” he turned to her. “Hey, you have nothing to drink,” he gestured to her already empty glass and took it from her. “Lemme refill it while you’ll decide to say yes.”

“Hey, who’s the guest here?”

He gave her an “oh, come on” look, took her glass and excused himself. 

“What are you doing?” Agnieszka hissed at Maya as soon as the coast was clear. 

“It’s been a long time since you looked so radiant. You’ve been miserable for way too long. Enjoy life for once. You like him! And he obviously likes you,” Maya said, nodding towards the long table. Agnieszka looked up too and they watched him shooting glances back at them.

“It’s irresponsible,” Agnieszka hissed back. “He’s leaving by the end of the month.”

“Yeah yeah, totally out of your character,” Maya responded sarcastically. “Since when does this bother you? And what exactly do you expect to happen? Just go have some fun. Two friends enjoying a hike.” 

She planned a beautiful hike. Secluded, just as he wished. Away from selfie hunters. The whole trek was on the Slovakian side of the mountains, but that wasn’t an issue. They would start right at the border and cross the whole mountain range from north to south, taking the bus back to the starting place. It was a physically demanding, long trek, with almost no shelters along the road and no escape routes. That’s why not many people ventured there, even though the first half was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places here. Joshua was beyond excited. 

They agreed to meet by her car at half past six the next morning. She would take care of all the necessities. All Joshua had to do was to show up on time with a backpack and some spare clothes. He failed miserably. 

At quarter to seven, she finally decided to knock on his door. “Joshua, come on! We need to leave NOW if you don’t want me to change the plan.” A moment later she heard a loud “oh fuck!” and some scrambling noise. “COMING!”

“Coming,” he breathed out when he finally opened the door, shirtless again, still in his sleeking sweatpants and with a literal nest on the top of his head. “I’m sooo sorry! Gimme ten minutes. Ten minutes max!”

“I’ll be waiting by my car,” she rolled her eyes and sighed. 

He finally showed up after another 25 minutes, overflowing with joy and…

“What’s that?” she pointed at his face. 

“Sunglasses,” he shrugged with a beaming smile. 

“You call this sunglasses?” 

“I’m a diva! Deal with it,” he responded affectedly and threw his backpack on the backseat. 

It was almost eight when they finally set off. The track was an easy one for the first ten kilometres, with just a slight ascent. It was – however – breathtaking from the very start, with the whole amphitheatre of jagged peaks opening up before them in the distance. Joshua was taking pictures the whole time. He was also talking the whole time, stopping only when the pathway became very steep all of the sudden. 

They surmounted a few levels and finally decided to take a break by a beautiful mountain lake. 

It was almost noon, but there were still barely any clouds in the sky and it was getting really hot, even at this altitude. Agnieszka wiped the sweat off her brow and splashed her bare arms with some cold water, while Joshua stripped from his shirt and jumped on a large stone sticking out of the water. He was now standing there with his arms outstretched and his head tilted back. She watched him in amusement, shielding her eyes with her hand. “If you want to go on like this, you’ll definitely need to apply more sunscreen.”

“What? Are you saying that pink wouldn’t suit me? I beg to differ, my lady!” He turned towards her in some sort of clumsy pirouette and nearly lost his balance, flailing his arms and leg around in an attempt to stay dry. “Watch it!” She laughed, but was also already rummaging in her backpack. “And no. I’m serious. Come here.” He jumped back and she handed him her bottle. 

“Hmmm, coconut ice cream,” he sniffed at the healthy amount of lotion he just poured on his palm and started rubbing it in the skin on his arms and chest. “I was delicious before, but now I’m going to be practically irresistible.” Agnieszka was just taking a sip out of her bottle and his cheekiness made her cough. 

“What, you don’t think so?” He wiggled his eyebrows on her. “I might need help with the back,” he added. 

“I’d rather not answer that question. Come sit,” she motioned to the flat stone in front of her. 

He turned his back on her and sat between her legs, throwing his messy braid over his shoulder. It was adorned with silver dreadlock beads today and she couldn’t help but smile at his unashamed quirkiness. “Why don’t you wanna answer that question?” he asked with a low voice when she started applying the sunscreen between his shoulder blades. 

She took a deep breath through her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. This close, she could smell his own musky scent under the overpowering aroma of the sunscreen, and it made her dizzy. She watched tiny droplets of sweat running down his sides from under his armpits. Running her hands over his lower back, she involuntarily imagined the same thing in a completely different scenario. She really wanted this to be just two friends on a trip, just as Maya said, but his delicate, yet manly form and his direct, spontaneous personality made it almost impossibly hard. She just couldn’t get the feral thoughts out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. “You don’t need coconuts, Joshua,” she muttered under her breath.

He…giggled? This man was either completely unaware of his power or too comfortable with it. Either way, she just wanted to push him in that water. She was sure it would make a hiss. 

She squeezed more lotion in her palm and started rubbing his shoulders. “You’re a bit tense here.”

“Yeah, my lower neck’s been hurting lately. I haven’t had much exercise in a while,” he sighed. 

“Here?” She pressed both thumbs in his higher trapeze muscles and he let out an involuntary moan. They both chose to act as if he hadn’t. 

“So…you exercise? What exactly do you do?

“Yoga, mostly. Some light weights, too. I need to keep fit because of…work.”

“Work, huh? You told me quite a lot about your family, but I still don’t know what your job is.” He looked like one of those contemporary circus acrobatic dancers – she contemplated half-jokingly – but that probably wasn’t the case. He was too clumsy. 

It took him a while to respond. “A secret agent,” he finally let out. “And unfortunately, now I have to kill you.” That made her slap his shoulder in amusement. “Ok, ok, I work as a costume mannequin. It’s an extremely important job. They pay well, too.” 

Sighing exasperatedly, she pinched his side, making him squirm and squeak. He was keeping something from her, but she had learned not to pry. “Ok, done.” She wiped the rest of the lotion on her things and he shifted and sat next to her, still laughing, until she handed him a water bottle. “Now drink. I haven’t seen you drink much and I don’t want you to collapse on the road. You’re tiny, but I still couldn’t carry you all the way down.” Everytine she felt vulnerable, she resorted to this strategy of making clear that she was in charge of the situation, could take care of herself and should take care of others…or whatever. It was her way to weed out the toxic people. Some guys would be mortally offended by such a treatment. Joshua? He just saluted her with a “yes, ma’am” and obeyed. 

They sat in silence for a while, only an occasional hawk screech or an intelligible chatter of two girls sitting further up breaking the zen-like piece of the place. “Thank you,” she finally spoke, toying with the malachite pendant hanging around her neck. 

He looked at her with amusement. “You already did.”

“No, I mean for not treating me like…what were the words he used? Oh yeah, a dirty whore. Which I guess I am. But you’re not judging me. So, thank you.”  

He rested his face on his fist and looked at her. “Why should I be judging you? People need human touch. That’s completely normal.” 

“Some more than others, I suppose. I’m just pathetic.”

“I think you’re just lonely,” he said, toying with the water bottle absentmindedly. 

“I’m not,” she huffed.

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t respond, silently watching the ripples on the lake. The idea of being lonely was one she willingly chose not to entertain a long time ago. She had her people. She had sex. She had this. She was ok. 

His palm that gently cupped her face brought her from her reverie. His fingers slid down to the nape of her neck while his thumb continued to caress her cheek. She instinctively leaned into the touch with her eyes closed and when she opened them again, she saw him watching her intently. 

Her heart started beating wildly. “What are you doing,” she whispered. He just shook his head and bit his lip before he moved even closer and closed the gap between them. She could feel his plump lips on hers and her whole body twitched in shock, making him break the contact. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping, but she grabbed his face in her own shaking hands and pressed her parted lips to his again in silent plea. The tip of his tongue brushed against her upper lip, inviting her own to touch him. Their mouths finally fully connected in a soft, deep and sensual kiss that made them both feel completely light-headed. None of them wanted this to end and they continued for at least a minute, swallowing each other’s shaky exhales. At last he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “What is this? she whispered again. 

“I don’t know… and I don’t care, to be honest,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes as they broke the contact entirely. She didn’t know where to look, didn’t even know how to process her own thoughts, so she just checked her Garmin matter-of-factly, only to see how late it already was. “We should get moving.” 

“I don’t think I can,” he giggled in embarrassment. “Just…give me a minute.” She nodded weakly in acknowledgement and got up to re-pack their things. 

They resumed their way up the steep and stony path in complete silence save for their laboured breath until they reached another levelled post-glacial terrace with yet another alpine lake right under the narrow saddle that divided the northern set of valleys from the southern mountain range. They were now approximately in the middle of their journey and the route was getting slightly more exposed. At one point, they had to traverse a narrow ledge above the lake. It was the first passage with safety chains they had to cross that day, and by far the easiest one, as she assured him, which only made him nervous. 

They took a short break before ascending to refresh themselves when they reached the crossing and had two ways to choose from, both leading to their final destination. The one to the left was fit for more seasoned adventurers, and – based on the people coming and going – that included also kids in their early teens or older women, so it could be done. She knew it could, she had gone there a few times before. But, seeing him watch the narrow and jagged depression between two peaks in the distance warily, Agnieszka finally decided on the path leading right up to the more easily accessible saddle. It proved to be a wise choice just a short while after. Watching him struggle while descending on the other side, clawing the chains with terror in his eyes, was fun. Him falling or panicking in the middle of the ascent wouldn’t be. 

He even misstepped eventually when they were descending down a set of cramps onto another ledge. His foot slid down the last iron bar clumsily and his bare back collided with her chest, nearly knocking them both down. 

She caught him and steadied him and they laughed it off, but there was something strange about the whole situation. She felt an underlying tension between them after she released him and they genuinelly looked each other in the eye for the first time since the kiss. He brushed the back of his hand against her arm, trying to communicate something, until the people behind them gestured to them to move. 

He led the way this time, jumping from stone to stone, high on endorphins, as if his knees were made of rubber. A wild chamois. Her own shins started to burn, the exhaustion of the past few days already taking its toll. He was unstoppable though, basking in the afternoon sun and once again taking pictures of everything around him, including her on a few occasions. Some things were still left unsaid and the more tired she felt with each passing hour, the more it troubled her. The events of the day made her simply wonder, but one specific feeling that started to rear its ugly head scared her.

It was half past six when they finally reached Stary Smokovec, both completely exhausted and thirsty, but happy they made it in time. The last bus to Lysa Polana was leaving at 7:05. They had just enough time to use the restroom at the electric train station and to buy some bottled water to relieve the headache. 

Reaching the bus station, they found the girls they had previously met by the lake already waiting there. They took the other route at the crossing and were now also headed back to Lysa Polana. They were a nice and friendly couple, so when the bus arrived, Agnieszka and Joshue took the seat right behind them. 

The sun was already low in the sky, covering the world outside in a warm hue and a fresh, lukewarm breeze was flowing through the open roof window. The sound of the moving machine made them drowsy and they watched the changing scenery in silence. It was suddenly so peaceful. One of the girls in front of them rested her head lovingly on the other one’s shoulder and Agnieszka wished to do the same, but just couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. 

As if he read her mind, he took her hand and – just like the first night – started stroking her knuckles gently. She just smiled and looked in the distance. Whatever it was, she was now determined to enjoy every single minute of it. More people boarded the bus in Tatranska Lomnica and soon they were on their way again. The girls in front of them started kissing and Joshua watched them stealthily with the most heartwarming expression on his face she had seen so far. Suddenly, they heard the driver saying something with his voice raised and angry, while looking at them through the rear-view mirror. 

The girls tensed and started whispering something to each other in Polish. Joshua looked confused. Agnieszka didn’t understand the driver at first but when he repeated those words she finally grasped the meaning behind them and gasped. He stopped the bus and opened the back door. Joshua turned his head to Agnieszka, looking positively alarmed now. “What is he saying?” She tried to translate it but her own words failed her. He got it, though. The guy wanted them out. 

One of the girls tried to negotiate with the driver, but that made him even more visibly angry. He stood and made his way towards them. The whole bus was whispering by then, all eyes on the girls. “Do kelu, vypadnite uz, lesby zasrate!” he roared and grabbed one of the girls by the elbow, trying to push her out of the bus with force, if necessary. An older lady in the back shouted something at him, but he ignored her and continued with his speech about not wanting such filth inside his bus. Joshua clenched his jaw, stood up abruptly and went after the driver, only to be thrown back into his seat aggressively. Agnieszka didn’t even know that she started screaming. The whole situation escalated pretty quickly and resulted in the four of them being left standing by the side of the road. 

The girls were the first to recover, one of them already tapping ferociously on the screen of her phone, while Agnieszka was still just standing there in disbelief and repeating “he can’t do this, he can’t do this” over and over again. Joshua sat on the grass, his elbows on his knees, clutching his head. He felt as if he was in a haze, watching her in slow motion having a heated conversation with the girls. He rubbed his temple and tried to calm down as she finally crouched down to him after a while. 

“Joshua, are you ok?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “Are you sure? You look…”

“I am ok, Olalla. I’m ok…” but his shoulders started shaking and he lost it, startling her. She sat down next to him and pulled him in her arms in a vain attempt to soothe him. “Hey! Shhh, big boy. They’re fine. One of them just called a taxi from Poprad. But…it’s a long ride and neither of us have enough cash, so…do you, perchance, have some spare Euros? I’ll pay you back once we get back to Eulalia.” 

That finally made him take a deep breath and calm down a bit. “Yeah…yes, I do. I’ll pay for the ride, don’t worry.”

“No, we’ll split the expense, I’ll just need…”

“Don’t argue, Olalla!” He was resolute. He also didn’t say a single word after that. 

No one spoke during the ride back to Lysa Polana, only the radio disturbing the complete silence. The girls crammed themselves in the back seat while Joshua took the place next to the driver. Agnieszka was watching him from the back seat. They were both deep in thought and – while she couldn’t read his mind – her own was racing. It all made perfect sense all of the sudden. Still with the aftertaste of his kiss on her lips, she felt a sudden wave of bittersweet tenderness for him. Oh, my sweet Joshua. My dear…friend. 

Back in her car, they still didn’t speak. They had wished the other two a safe journey back home and Joshua hugged them both, but other than that, he seemed distant, watching the passing trees outside the window absentmindedly. 

“Thank you for today, Olalla,” he finally spoke, not looking at her. “It was really nice.” 

“No need to be polite now, Joshua. Just tell me what’s troubling you…if you want to. If you don’t…then don’t...”

He opened his mouth, only to move his lips in vain like a mute fish, and started crying. She felt a sudden surge of panic. The incident itself, however unpleasant, couldn’t possibly shake him that much. Something else was going on, and she had a feeling it was related to the previous phone calls he had. It seemed impossible to return to Eulalia now. Her notoriously curious sister would be waiting behind the reception desk, no doubt. It was not her place to explain why they were both behaving as if they just returned from a funeral. She couldn’t muster enough strength to do that, anyway. And then there was Bart and his buddies, whom she just didn’t want to see now. AND she didn’t want them to see Joshua. Not like this. 

He didn’t even notice that she took a different turn, coming back to reality again only when they passed the town centre and were now heading towards a much smaller Gubalowka mountain range on the northern side of town. 

“Where are we going? he asked, looking confused. 

“I just thought you might appreciate a change of scenery…”

To be continued...

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To Sever a Loveless Bond

••RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 2/?

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Chapter Two art by @fletchingbrilliant

•••

Dawn broke dim and distantly cold the following morning, red sunlight weakly filtering through a thick cover of clouds that promised a storm before the end of the day. Angel Dust watched the light slowly creep along his carpet from his bed, stomach down on the mattress and his face half mushed into the blankets that gathered around him in a nest of pink and white fabric that had accumulated from hours of tossing and turning. Angel drew a long breath and let it out in a groan as he closed his eyes, feeling as though his entire body had manifested a massive stress headache from the night before.

He wasn’t used to being awake this early. Despite his best efforts to comply with Charlie’s plan for redemption, some habits were harder to break than others, and that meant Angel was usually awake until four or five in the morning. Because of that, he was lucky if he was out of bed before two in the afternoon, and nobody usually saw him until at least four. But the events of the previous night had sent Angel to bed a few hours before midnight, and the subsequent hours of tossing and turning punctuated with fifteen minutes of sleep here and there had apparently led to Angel seeing the first sunrise he could ever remember seeing in Hell. It was creepier than the sunset, somehow.

Angel turned his face into the blankets and groaned again, begging the darkness to just take him into a second death already. The moment he did, however, he regretted it; he could see dilated pupils in garnet-flecked red eyes, he could hear soft and staticky white noise pitch and whine like someone was turning the knob on a radio to search the channels, and he could smell dead flesh and blood and clove cigarettes.

And above it all, a single word that echoed dull and hollow, tainted by a thick layer of radio filter that distanced the speaker from the listener in every way possible: no.

Cringing, Angel sat up and rubbed at his face until he saw spots behind his closed eyes. He then lowered his hands, blinking colors from his vision and looking down at Fat Nuggets as he burrowed further into the nest Angel had made. “At least someone’s having no trouble sleepin’,” he grumbled, but smiled just a little when his words were punctuated with a tiny grunting snore.

Sleeping wasn’t going to happen. Angel didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out. Leaving his room was out of the question, too, because the last thing he needed was Charlie getting all excited over the idea of him being up ‘bright and early’, or worse, asking him a bunch of questions about why the hell he was awake. Angel imagined the delicate ways she would try to ask, all while Vaggie hovered at her elbow with accusatory and suspicious looks, and decided that staying in his room all day was looking very appealing.

It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Alastor was out there somewhere. Why would it? People were lucky if they saw the Radio Demon twice in the same week, even living in the same building as him. Angel wasn’t worried about running into him. That would be dumb.

Fat Nuggets blinked sleepily when Angel retrieved him from the blankets, and soon he was snuffling and wiggling with excitement at being faced with a new day all for him. “Come on, baby. Bath time,” Angel said, carrying the little hellpig into the bathroom to give him a good scrubbing.

Even with Angel taking his time to thoroughly pamper his pig, as well as letting Nuggets play with the bubbles in the tub for a while, he realized that the whole ordeal had only eaten up about an hour. Angel dried Fat Nuggets and sent him back into the room to explore, then began preparing a sand bath for himself. He closed off the drain of the tub, dried it thoroughly, and filled the bottom with coarse white sand before finally stripping his clothes off to face the part that he knew was inevitable but had been dreading for hours. Angel folded his clothes, sat on the edge of the tub, and looked down at his knee.

For many years, the mark on his leg had been completely ignorable. It blended well enough into his markings that most people didn’t even realize what it was, and Angel himself only knew because of how well he knew his own body and that these shapes were decidedly not him. But in the very least, it had always been pink, soft, and easy to hide.

That was absolutely no longer the case.

Nothing about the shape had changed, but the color was deeper, angrier, the pink of his striping fading into the reddish color of the burst blood vessels in a new bruise that now dominated the shape of the stag’s head. Angel’s fingers touched the mark and he gasped gently, sensation traveling up his thigh and straight into his pelvis with a sudden sharpness that made him snap his hand back. It wasn’t just supremely sensitive, but it felt slightly raised, almost like a welt, before the color bled back to pink and his usual striping continued.

How the fuck am I gonna hide this from Val?

Angel banished the thought. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it now, and it was his day off, and he had too many things to worry about without also panicking over how his boss would respond to the knowledge that Angel knew who his soulmate was. Instead, he focused on his bath, sinking into the sand in the tub and scrubbing it through his fur to remove the strange feeling that being awake in an unpleasant way all night had given him. The scratchy sensation of the sand against his skin felt good, though he had to be very careful with his leg because he was pretty sure the sand against his raised mark would feel like utter garbage.

He took his time, relaxing as much as he could and half hoping he would doze off in the warm sand, but he had no such luck. Finally, he got out of the tub and grabbed his brush, slowly and carefully cleaning all traces of sand from his fur before he cleaned up and went back to his room to get dressed. All of that, and he’d only killed another hour and a half.

This was going to be a very, very long day.

Angel didn’t remember the last time he had sequestered himself in his room because he actually wanted to, and it was difficult to find things to do with himself. In order to avoid the temptation to just doom scroll all day, Angel rearranged his entire wardrobe, then his vanity, then got his supplies and gave every one of his sex toys a more thorough cleaning than he usually did. He tossed a couple of them that were getting too worn, ordered some replacements, reorganized them in the closet, then reorganized his bondage and had to reorganize the toys again because with the bondage in a different configuration everything looked weird.

Throughout his tasks, Charlie came by four times in total. The first was to see if he was awake, and each subsequent pass was to check on him, but the final one was weird even by Charlie’s standards.

Angel was oiling down and rubbing out some of his leather shackles when he heard the tentative, rhythmic knock on his door once more. “Hi, Charlie,” he called, a little resigned. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, hi, Angel,” Charlie said. She sounded off. “Just… coming to check on you! Making sure everything is okie-dokie and you… y’know… are fine?”

Angel lowered the leather to his lap and looked at the door, almost expecting to see Charlie through the wood. “I am both okie-dokie and fine,” he said suspiciously. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No! Nooooo,” Charlie said in her most convincing casual voice. “No no no. Nothing is wrong! I’m just seeing how you are… making sure nothing… happened?”

Angel frowned. “Nothin’ happened, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

“Okay, well… if you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs.”

“Noted.”

“Doing some inventory.”

“Good for you.”

“Just hanging out.”

“Charlie!”

“Okay okay I’m going, sorry,” she apologized, and Angel heard her scurry away from the door faster than she usually did.

Angel stared at the door for a few moments longer. “…that was weird,” he said to no one, but Fat Nuggets grunted at him anyway.

Despite Angel’s determination to stay up in his room all day, the one necessity he didn’t have access to was food. It was still evening, but his stomach was grumbling in irritation at him and he knew it would only get worse… plus, he really had run out of things to keep himself occupied. He left his room quietly, and he could hear the clouds had made good on their promise as violent gusts howled at the walls and rattled the windows all through the hotel. Angel shivered a little at the draft and hurried downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that he didn’t run into anyone. It meant no interrogation, sure, but the fact that he didn’t see anyone also kinda made him feel like he had wasted an entire day off for nothing. The kitchen was empty, but the idea of cooking was supremely unappealing after a restless night combined with the memory of the previous evening. The only premade food in the fridge was Alastor’s jambalaya, and the idea of eating that felt wrong, somehow. In the end, Angel just stood at the open fridge and ate individual sandwich ingredients without bothering to build anything.

The food sat heavily in his stomach but also, somehow, made him feel a lot less like he was going to throw up. The feeling of accomplishment that came from completing a basic task of self-care was fleeting, and Angel left the kitchen in something of a haze, debating between texting Cherri and bugging her into going out and just… going back to his room and trying to actually sleep. He pulled out his phone, caressing the dark screen with the pad of his thumb as he wandered, weighing the pros and cons of both until a decision was made for him.

“Hey. Kid.”

Angel looked up and realized he’d wandered into one of the places he absolutely didn’t want to be: the bar area. Husk wasn’t looking at him, his focus on a drink he had just started prepping, but Angel knew he had the other sinner’s full attention otherwise.

“What?” Angel asked, a little more clipped than his voice usually got. Ever since they had severed the tension between them, Angel considered Husk to be his good friend—maybe even family, like an uncle he didn’t mind seeing on holidays—but that didn’t mean he wanted to put up with his pseudo-fatherly intense concern sage advice bullshit.

If Husk noticed his hesitation, he didn’t show it. His eyes raised to lock on Angel’s, and he nodded at one of the bar stools. “Sit.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Angel said, rather than just refusing or walking away.

“Too damn bad,” Husk answered, unbothered. “I got something I need to talk to you about.”

Angel groaned. There wasn’t anything stopping him from just leaving the bar and going back to his room, he knew that too well. Husk wouldn’t do shit about it, and while Angel would have to deal with this conversation attempt crap again, he could at least postpone it for a day when he didn’t feel like he’d been run over by a car. Instead, he stepped forward and flopped onto the stool, leaning his arms on the bar top and slumping forward so dramatically that he had to look up to see Husk’s face. “The fuck do you want?” he asked without heat.

At first, Husk didn’t answer. Instead, he placed his index finger on the rim of the lowball glass he had been making the drink in and slid it to Angel. It was an almost clear, gently yellow color, and it smelled like lemon. “Here.”

“I don’t got any points for alcohol,” Angel said, not moving to touch it.

“What Vaggie doesn’t know won’t hurt you,” the bartender said evenly. “And I’m guessing you need it. You look like shit warmed over.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Angel grumbled as he picked the glass up and took a sip. He had a brief second to appreciate the flavor—sharp, lightly sweet, bright, definitely lemon—before the alcohol kicked him in the back of the throat and he coughed. “Holy fuck…!”

Usually, any evidence of alcohol throwing Angel off got a laugh out of Husk, but his expression didn’t budge. He just waited for Angel to set the glass down, his hands on the bar top. He looked, if Angel had to guess, like he was trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

“Spit it out, Whiskers, I’m tired and I wanna go to bed,” Angel said as he leaned his cheek on his fist.

The nickname went ignored, and Angel knew then that whatever this was, it had to be serious. “Did you and Alastor get into a fight?”

“What?” Angel sat up. “Why?”

“Just answer the question, kid.”

“No,” Angel said. “It wasn’t a fight, it… it wasn’t… look, it wasn’t anything, now why?”

Husk’s frown was a little darker. “Because he was weird today. And I mean he was weird for Alastor. He asked about you.”

Angel froze. Something in his stomach felt like it was sinking. “…he did? What…” He cleared his throat, and Husk’s ear twitched. “What did he say?”

“Asked if anyone had seen you today,” the bartender said, his voice still steady and unreadable. “Charlie said you hadn’t left your room. He immediately went on some kinda rant about you missing a beautiful day, then said he needed to leave, all of it a single sentence. Don’t think he drew breath once. Then he just left.”

Angel frowned. “…and you think… we got into a fight?”

“Look, kid, I’m struggling to come up with another reason that he would be acting like that.”

Husk wasn’t saying everything he was thinking—Angel knew he never did—but something told him that the cat sinner was asking this out of genuine and actual concern. Maybe it was for Angel himself, but Angel thought it was for Alastor, too. Not that Husk would admit that or that Angel would dare suggest it, of course.

“…we talked for a while yesterday,” Angel said. “He was in the kitchen. I helped him cook. It didn’t end well. That’s all.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “Something ending poorly with Alastor, in a kitchen, isn’t usually the kind of thing you tack ‘that’s all’ onto.”

“I got all my body parts, chill,” Angel said. “I don’t know if I should… …look, Husk.” As he changed tactic, he heard his own voice grow serious, and he could tell Husk heard it too by the way his ears twitched. “I’m serious. You don’t wanna know.”

Husk drummed his fingertips on the bar top for a second. “I know it’s none of my business,” he said at length. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. And that, whatever it is, it’s not going to come back and cause trouble.”

That was pointed. “Why would it cause trouble?”

“Because you have a tendency to avoid talking about things you need to talk about, and it doesn’t go well.”

Angel winced. “…that’s low.”

“Truth ain’t always harsh, but it ain’t always pretty.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Angel took another sip of his drink, and then a third, letting the sugar and alcohol fortify him. Husk waited with an alarming amount of patience for a sinner who usually couldn’t wait to get to the point. “…you got an activated mark, Husk?”

“An activated mark?” Husk asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion, before they widened a little. “Do you mean a… a soulmate mark?” His expression shifted again, his ears turning outwards and lying back just a little. “Angel. Please fucking tell me you’re completely changing the subject.”

Angel opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. So, he closed it again, then shook his head.

“…are you trying to tell me that Alastor… activated your soulmate mark?”

Angel nodded.

“You need skin on skin contact to do that.”

“I know.”

Husk closed his eyes, then turned, grabbing one of his personal bottles of whiskey. He uncorked it and tossed the cork onto the bar top, taking a healthy swig before setting it down with a heavy thud and gesturing for Angel to continue.

“It… I was helpin’ him clean up,” Angel said, hesitating only a little at the false start. “We both lost track of where we were, and then I was kinda in his space, and he didn’t have his staff, so he…” He mimed pushing someone away. “…my shoulder, y’know? Like a reflex. And he wasn’t wearin’ his gloves, so…”

Angel trained off, and the silence settled over them like a thick blanket. “…fuck,” Husk said at length. “And he noticed?”

“Oh, yeah, he noticed,” Angel said with a soft and sarcastic laugh, a burning sensation rising behind his eyes. “He wasn’t happy. He left.”

“Fuck,” Husk repeated, the word still a soft declaration. He took another drink of the whiskey. “You’re not gonna do anything about it, are you?”

Angel stared at him. “What kinda anythin’ could I possibly do?” he asked, incredulous. “Al hates being touched. He’s made his views on any intimacy at all pretty fuckin’ clear. And if he actually did have a type, any type at all, it’s pretty obvious it wouldn’t be someone like me.”

Husk’s expression was complicated and Angel didn’t want to decipher it. “…yeah,” he said, and it didn’t sound like he was talking to Angel. “Good,” he added. Angel went back to his drink. “I just don’t want to see you do something you shouldn’t. Alastor’s made his opinion on soulmates pretty clear to me and Niff.”

“Oh, yeah?” Angel asked. “What, he threaten to eat his if he finds ‘em?”

“Something like that, just… he was way more graphic.” Husk shook his head and looked away. “He’s not a man who likes to deal with distractions. He toys with them and then he gets rid of them.”

“…right.” Angel suddenly had the very visceral feeling that Alastor wasn’t just talking about killing his own soulmate when he told them that. Why would he kill Husk and Niffty’s? Why would he care? …another piece of the puzzle that was the three of them, he supposed. “C’mon, Husk, even my stupid has limits. I ain’t gonna go askin’ the Radio Demon to go steady with me.”

“I know,” Husk said. “Just make sure you don’t start wanting to.”

Angel stared at him. Husk just picked up Angel’s empty glass and turned, starting to clean it. There were so many questions Angel could ask, and he realized… every single one of them had an answer he didn’t want to know. So, instead, he just knocked his knuckles on the bar top a couple of times as acknowledgment and slid off the stool, heading back towards his room.

I don’t want to.

…I don’t, do I?

Angel had no idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ever find out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why Husk was so positive it would be a problem.

It wasn’t until he was almost asleep, at long last, that Angel realized Husk hadn’t answered him about whether or not he had an activated soul mark. It was a personal question, but somehow, Angel didn’t think that was why he had dodged it.

Angel was pretty sure he dodged it because the answer was yes, and if Alastor knew, whoever it was would be in danger of becoming a member of the radio chorus.

•••

[cloudninetonine]

My depression is kicking my arse rn, like, at dangerous levels ouhgfofiu

So here's a little vent story <3 It is angst <3

If I don't feel better soon you're gonna get more angst posts

Warnings: Implied character death(s), implied child/teen death, descriptions of gore and implied fight with monsters, implied self sacrifice (???), description of missing limbs (arm and eye)

“...(na…me)?”

The pain was unbearable, your body broken and bloody on the sands of Hyrule shore as you stared at the endless expanse of midnight blue with dotted points of spatial beauties staring back at you. You could almost feel the pity, the sadness and the mourning all the way from down here, on an earth you didn’t quite know in a universe that wasn’t your own.

Shuffling sounded from your right, the sound of something heavy dragging through the sand slowly getting closer and closer until finally the presence was right next to your, a hand resting on your arm- well, what was left of your arm. That was gone, the stump bleeding profusely with the jagged chunk missing from your side that seeped the red onto the once pristine beach beneath you.

…you were so tired.

In so much pain.

…this was it, wasn’t it?

“...(name)...” The hand moved to grab your shoulder, dislocated from his position and painful as the person squeezed the area- you couldn’t blame him, you knew his body was probably just as broken as your own. “Are…are you…still- there?”

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t turn your head- the pain from your neck was a dull thump in your throat but you knew it would be excruciating if you tried to move.

“Yeah…” You croaked, surprised but slightly happy you could still manage sound. “...can you…can you see me anymore?”

Wind sniffled; wobbly and scared, a normal reaction for the child he was.

A child…

His grandmother was probably so worried about him…

The sailor coughed. “They…they only took one eye…”

You choked on a sob, eyes watering. “An eye…?”

“...just one.”

Just one.

It was just one monster earlier. Then it was two, then three, then four, five, six- you counted 20 before you and Wind were finally overwhelmed, subjected to the unbearable torture that soon followed for what felt like hours after. You were sure the rest of the boys could probably hear your screams from miles away, probably heard the terror and the pleading as you begged for them to come and save you, rescue you from this horrid suffering.

…why weren’t they here?

Wind sniffed again, hacking a little right next to your ear- the feeling of liquid just grazing the shell as the young hero coughed up some blood.

“...I’m cold.”

A tear ran down your cheek. “...me too.”

You’d both lost too much blood.

It probably wouldn’t be long now…

The waves nearby crashed rhythmically against the sand in an almost hypnotic symphony that your ringing ears honed in on. White noise, calming and serene despite the aching agony that every last part of your felt, imagining yourself walking against the beach barefoot with the water just tickling your skin. The beach spanned on for forever, disappearing into the horizon as you continued to walk and walk without a destination. There was no need to think about the time passing as the sun began to set just off the coast, diving into the ocean and leaving a beautiful sunset that your eyes would memorise for all of eternity.

Wind grunted as he crawled a little closer, the feeling of his body burrowing into your less injured side a comfort in the isolating feeling that…death seemed to be bringing forth. His head was gentle to rest on your chest, curled into you like a child with it’s mother as they slept, your void arm trying to desperately wrap around him in an act to bring that feeling of reassurance.

…you instead moved your other to hold one of his hands, using as much strength as you could to interlock your fingers.

You could feel the warm blood drip, drip, drip, from his empty socket.

“...I’m tired.”

You slowly blinked towards the sky. “...me too…”

“...I don’t…think…the others are…coming…”

Your eyes blurred from your tears, running down your face like a gentle spring. “...yeah…”

The young boy sniffled once more, a silent teary hiccup leaving him. “...I’m gonna…gonna sleep…”

You tightened your fingers; Wind tightened his.

“....yeah me too, Link…”

The natural ambience was a nice thing to hear. The waves, the gentle breeze, the rustle of palm trees- you didn’t mind these sounds being the last things you heard. Natural and beautiful, like a lullaby sending you beyond, into the great unknown of death. It was calming. The frantic palpitations of your heart, fighting desperately to keep your battered body from buckling under the weight from all the pain, slowly falling into a more gentle pace that grew weaker and weaker with each passing second.

You glanced at the mess of blonde hair laying against you.

“...Link?...”

You could still feel his breaths, slow and weak against your chest, but you knew that wouldn’t last much longer.

You glanced back up at the sky, eyes moist from your uncontrollable crying- reflecting the ethereal glow of the stars from above.

“...Take me…”

Silence.

“...I know you can fucking hear me…” Anger was in your voice, mixed with desperation and fear. “...He’s already gone through enough…Let him live and take me…instead…I’ll go willingly…I won’t fight it…just don’t let him die….”

The stars blinked, something gold shot across the sky…A shooting star…

Your vision began to blur and darken, the world slowly moving further and further away as the exhaustion took over your entire being.

“...This is all…I’m asking…my only..prayer..

Let...Link...live…”

Fade to black.