#aw man though! i forget if he had that line before about crimson muscle coming to his entrance ceremony or if that's new

[egophiliac]

well, I can't say I expected the new chapter to feature Idia (metaphorically) going to (metaphorical) hell, getting a pep talk from his (metaphorical) Phantom brother which helps him finally move on once and for all from his brother's death, and (metaphorically) overblotting again to fight his way back out of (metaphorical) hell, only to have his darkest fear (non-metaphorically) come true when his mom goes through his computer and finds all his secret files. but I am glad it did!

also this is all a flashback for the purpose of explaining to our group what the heck is going on (whether or not any of it is getting through is another matter)

[ddarker-dreams]

I Got The Blues. Yan Bruno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: implied manipulation, isolation, some paranoia. word count: 5k.

This isn’t how you were expecting your evening to go. 

Flashing by you in a dreamlike world of blurred colors, the city of Naples at night is a picturesque sight to behold. Gone is the sun that kindly lavished the bustling streets in shades of amber and marigold, moonlight and twinkling stars taking its place. How a city can have a clear enough sky to spot stars is a miracle beyond your own knowledge, though the lights of streetlamps and buildings do dull it some; it’s not enough to diminish the greater beauty. 

Butterflies dance around in your stomach, threatening to send you careening in your leather seat. Your exposed skin gratefully takes in the cool of the air conditioning that you’ve found yourself fiddling with, in hopes of quelling your inner anxiety. Every now and again, you work up the courage to look over at your date for the night. When knowing, cobalt eyes flicker to meet your gaze, all of the valiance it took to look his way melts like ice. Your muscles go taut, fingers curling into a fist atop your bare thighs, rose colored lips set into an unsteady smile to dissipate the uneasy air of your own making. 

You haven’t even made it to the restaurant, and you’re already on the verge of boiling over with excitement. 

Bruno Bucciarati is nothing if not a stunningly handsome man, eyes smoldering and raven hair perfectly framing his sharp face. There are plenty of mysteries in this world, now you’re able to add one of your own design. Why is it that Bruno had asked you of all people, on a fanciful date? What he had seen in you up until this point to have extended this invitation to you is up for debate. It’s not that you think poorly of yourself -- far from it -- but that Bruno’s beauty is so ethereal, that it’s hard to fathom his interest in you. Today isn’t the first time he’s expressed it, and far from the last, but you mistook it for friendliness. 

“I promise I won’t bite, amore,” Bruno’s rich, velvety voice invades your ears, senses incapable of processing anything other than his presence beside you. “There’s no need to be so on edge.” 

Your heartbeat increases tenfold at his good-natured teasing, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. Having conversation fill the air provides you with some much needed reprieve, a playful response of your own bubbling to the surface. “You say you won’t, but I get the feeling you may go back on your word.”

He returns your laughter with equal fervor, the skin underneath his eyes crinkling in delight. “I have to admit, it’s a tempting proposition. But I’ll save that for another time, should you let me.” 

There’s no getting ahead of his game, he’s too suave and adept. You look out the window to hide how your cheeks flush, but from the pleased hum he lets out, you’re certain he knows anyways. The banter is an enjoyable aspect of your time with Bruno, though there’s an underlying factor of honesty to his words. All the compliments bestowed upon you come from a genuine place. Your mind wanders to the first time you had encountered him, a fated meeting that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. 

You had been jet lagged, searching frantically for a place to meet up that your native friend suggested. Directions went into your head without making proper sense, and before you knew it, you were lost. Your concerns of meeting up with your friend were soon replaced by wondering if you’d ever pinpoint where you were, the foreign area making it increasingly difficult to do so. It’s in this pitiful stupor that a well spoken man in a fine pressed suit appeared before you, asking if something was the matter. 

He hadn’t looked down upon you for the admittedly embarrassing plight, instead, he said he knew the area and wouldn’t mind taking you there as it was on his way. From that point onwards, you couldn’t thank him enough, praises stumbling from your tongue. He introduced himself as Bruno Bucciarati, and the time you spent with him was enough to forget your earlier problems. The long walk to where your friend awaited was filled with pleasant conversation and humor, with some light flirting that you enjoyed a little too much. From afar he looked serious, but had a coquettish nature that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

While it would’ve normally sounded terrifying to follow a stranger to a destination in a land you weren’t familiar with, Bruno put your heart at ease. He kept an appropriate distance and observed the theoretical line in the sand, never crossing it and using adequate charm to steady your frayed nerves. Upon hearing that you were a fresh arrival to Naples, he gave a brief overview of some culture tidbits that you might find useful during your stay. What was going to be an awful afternoon turned into a memorable outing, full of adventure and discovery. To say that you were grateful would be an understatement. 

Upon reaching your destination, all your anxiety from before was a thing of the past. Bruno was glad to see you off, refusing any monetary payments you tried to offer as thanks for his altruism. Instead, he asked if he could see you again at some point, to which you readily agreed. Thus began your pleasant friendship, and led to where you are now. On an excursion to a restaurant that, when you looked it up, seemed to frequent politicians and celebrities. How he managed to score a reservation at such a fine place is beyond you, but you’ll make the best of it. 

Fidgeting with your purse, you consider reapplying a touch of blush to your cheeks. Your outfit choice for tonight, a simple yet form fitting black dress that ends above your knees, was the best your closet could produce for such an event. Bruno looked the part of someone who would fit into high society, and you hope the same can be said for you. From how he complimented you earlier, it induced enough confidence to make it this far. 

The chauffeur pulls in front of the grandiose restaurant, and you watch as men and women dressed in designer clothing worth more than months of your paycheck climb out of sports cars. This is a large jump from the picnics and gelato outings Bruno had taken you out on before. Up until today, where romantic intentions could clearly be sighted, you only thought your relationship with him was friendly. The bouquet of deep, crimson roses he presented to you when you answered the door earlier made sure there were no confusing his intentions. 

He gets out before you, coming over to your side and opening the door. Accepting the hand that he extends out, the two of you stay close together while walking towards the front of the restaurant. Up until now, it felt like another world entirely, until you heard the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore. The inside is as luxurious as you could imagine, fine glass chandeliers hanging overhead and classical music being played live. Candlelight dots the tables, the glow setting a romantic atmosphere. 

Bruno speaks a few words to the hostess while you gape at the surroundings. It’s hard to believe that just this morning, you had been eating a ham sandwich to save money for bills. Now you stand in one of the grandest spots in Italy, surrounded by socialites. No one pays you any heed, much to your internal relief, instead showing the utmost respect to Bruno. He turns back to you, smiling, and the two of you are led to a private room overlooking the ocean. 

“If I’m being honest, I feel a bit out of my element here.” A nervous laugh leaves your lips as you take your seat, smoothing out the bottom half of your dress. The fresh water on the table is a welcome excuse to have something in your hands, and you take the opportunity to steady yourself. Gingerly picking up the glass by the rim, feeling the coolness against your fingertips as you do so.

“You look the part,” Bruno responds in kind, steepling his fingers together and setting his head atop them. “I apologize if the atmosphere feels stifling, signorina. It isn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.” 

Shaking your head, you place the cup down after a few sips. “Not at all. It’s beautiful, the view especially. I know I said it earlier, but… thank you for inviting me.” 

“It’s my pleasure. I’ve been wanting to take you out for an evening for some time now, but I’ve been preoccupied up until this point.” 

This catches your attention, an eyebrow raising in interest. Bruno has rarely spoken of his occupation, claiming the details would be a bore, but that must be what he’s referring to here. It was one of the few aspects of him that he didn’t delve into, and not wanting to seem invasive, you left it as is. Now seems like a prime opportunity to learn more about it, curiosity getting the better of you. You choose your words with care before proceeding.

“Is it a… busy season in your line of work?” You inquire with interest, hoping it doesn’t seem like you’re prying. The question is innocent enough, Bruno’s sought to learn more about your job, to which you readily answered him. His tone of voice and mannerisms, whether it be on purpose or not, always seems to command respect. It’s an aspect of him you and many others in his presence picked up on, always straightening their back in his presence and properly addressing him. Is he a politician or something…? 

“You could say that.” 

The opportunity is fleeting, a waiter coming over and paying great reverence to your dinner partner for the night. It’s a shame you won’t be able to push the topic further, having been interrupted and the conversation steering elsewhere. Bruno had asked beforehand if he could order in your stead. Seeing as he’s more familiar with the menu and charms of Nepotalian cuisine, you accepted, taking the opportunity to learn more about the food here. Some of the words he uses when placing an order for your antipasti you recognize, whereas others must be a dialect exclusive to this city. After the waiter hurriedly scribbles down and scurries off, Bruno’s attention is returned to you.

“So tell me, how are things with you? It’s been, what, a week or so since we last met in person?” 

You nod your head to confirm, nose scrunching while thinking back on your past experiences. Truth be told, it hasn’t been the best past couple of days. The other tenants in the apartments beside you have been obnoxiously loud at unholy hours into the morning, and no matter how politely you asked them to tone it down, it made no difference. Your landlord, to make matters worse, had been on about some special fee that you need to meet by the end of the month. When looking back on your agreement, you saw nothing of the sort. You wonder if he’s trying to take advantage of the fact you’re not a native Italian speaker, but finding a new place to live on such short notice would be a nightmare. This, and you’ve been having a difficult time aligning your schedules with your friends.

“It hasn’t been the easiest,” you confess with a sheepish smile, folding the napkin from the table onto your lap. That’s what you’ve seen in movies, so it seems like the right thing to do in this proper setting. “I actually wanted to talk to you about it, but it might not be the most proper dinner topic.” 

Bruno raises an eyebrow at this, before prompting you to continue. “Oh? I’d love to be of assistance to you.” 

The order comes out as you explain your sticky predicament. What appears to be octopus cooked alongside tomatoes and chili peppers, mixed into a leafy green salad with a zesty lemon dressing. The flavor bursts onto your tongue, spices complementing one another perfectly as you wrap up your woeful tale of adulthood. Bruno’s attention remains solely on you throughout, looking increasingly perplexed as you recount the problems, jaw tightening with agitation on your behalf.

“It might be in your best interest to end the lease then,” Bruno considers aloud with a sorrowful expression, shaking his head in dismay for your misfortunes. “The fee for doing so would still be less than having to pay that ridiculous sum every month.” 

It’s an option you considered with great displeasure. Shelling out all that money to end your lease early is a nightmare to think about, hundreds gone in the span of a second over an arbitrary bill, tacked on at the last second. The legality of it is up in the air, but your knowledge of the law surrounding tenants in Italy is… lacking, to say the least. Bruno’s affirmation of your idea serves to sour your mood, and you almost regret bringing up this grim subject on what’s meant to be a date night. Even though you planned to seek his guidance on it eventually, now may not have been the best time to do so.

Placing a forkful of steamed octopus into your mouth, you lament over the issue further. “I guess I should start looking for a new place. Everything else within range of my job is ridiculously expensive, though, so it looks like I’ll be walking a lot in the future.” 

The lighthearted joke does little to lift your downtrodden spirits, your gaze now facing downwards. How pathetic Bruno must think you are, incapable of properly navigating your finances despite being an adult. It’s embarrassing to think about, your cheeks burning in indignation. He never once chastises you, instead extending his hand over the table, resting it gingerly atop your own. A gentle action like this is enough to soothe your troubled mind, the coarse pad of his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into your skin.

“To think you’ve been through so much in this short amount of time… I’m sorry to hear about all of this,” Bruno’s words are soothing to your weary soul, maturity present in his visage. You feel better about talking to him already, sensing he has a great deal of life experience. “I’ve made up my mind. [First], why not live with me?” 

The sudden proposition sends your mind in a whirlwind, blinking rapidly while trying to gather your bearings. You’ve known Bruno for the time period of about three months, and while he’s been nothing but courteous towards you, there’s still a lot of secrecy surrounding him. You’d be pressed to say he isn’t charming, and that you don’t hold some form of affection toward him, but it feels so sudden. 

Sensing your apprehension, Bruno continues to explain in an attempt to smoothen other any concerns. “By all means, take time to think about the idea.” 

“I-It means a lot that you’d even extend the offer to me,” you stumble over your words truthfully, gulping to get a hold of yourself. “I’d feel awful to impose on you, especially on such short notice. You’ve been so considerate of me already…” 

“You could never impose. I hoped I’d made my feelings for you clear, [First]. Anything you need, I want to provide it. Please, allow me to do so.” 

He’s earnest, willing to overcome your apprehensions with thoughtfully crafted words and sentiments. Vacillating between two halves of yourself, you consider the options set before you. The romantic atmosphere from the restaurant is long forgotten, as you enter a reverie of contemplation. There isn’t a better option that you can think of, none of your friends living close enough or even open to the idea of a roommate. The time of splitting rent would be productive as well, letting you bolster your already deplenishing savings. Bruno has never given you reason to be alarmed, you trust the man before you. 

“In that case, I’ll continue thinking about it.” You answer after a moment’s deliberation, Bruno offering a nod of the head in acceptance. He retracts his hand from your own, and you can’t help but miss the warmth and reassurance it brought. Throughout your stay in Italy, you’ve felt like a stumbling mess at times. Sure, you’re capable enough, but wading through multiple decisions while balancing your job has been a lot to deal with. Bruno, on the other hand, feels so well put together. There’s never a moment in your interactions where he falters in his decisions, always full or resolve to see things through. He feels like a pillar of support in your life, a foundation that you cling to without even noticing it. This level of reliability is what you desperately need right now.

The air is silent for a moment, aside from the clattering of silverware against plates and muted chitchat from the other patrons. You look down to your lap, feeling the full weight of his stare set upon you. It feels like the evening has been getting away, running off in a direction you didn’t mean for it to go. After all the work he’s put into treating you to a nice night out, it feels impolite to ruin the mood any further. Putting on your best, brightest smile, you swiftly change the subject.

“I never realized seafood could taste so good,” you praise the meal before you, that’s been reduced to a shadow of its former self. Only a few crumbs remain in the bowl, a nice appetizer before the food to come. “A lot of the seafood I’ve had is either chewy, or just tastes strange. Whatever you picked out is amazing.” 

“A lot of it depends on the quality of the product itself. I grew up in a coastal town, so I know how to spot the difference. For octopus, the best method is the aroma. The same can be said for most seafood…” 

The remainder of the evening is spent in the throes of conversation ranging from lighthearted topics, to discussions about your plans for the future. Bruno revealed a bit more information about himself, but still not enough to sate your deeply rooted curiosity. His offer from before stays present in the back of your mind, but you do everything within your power to not think dwell on it. After having dessert from his behest, the two of you make your way to the entrance once more. You can’t fathom the bill after a dinner like that, but Bruno refutes any attempts to split it, following up his earlier offer of paying for it in full.

“Thank you for everything,” you express your gratitude while getting up from the chair, glancing out the window a final time. When you look back to Bruno, his attention is set solely on your presence, eyes softening considerably. It makes your heart flutter, how he looks at you. “I enjoyed my time with you.”

“And as for your offer…” 

There hasn’t been a great deal of time to think about it, but your chest feels light, like an invisible weight had been lifted. The man before you is an anchor that you never knew you needed, fastening you down in the wake of travesties. He’s well put together, offering you every courtesy known and making for delightful company. Whether what you feel is the beginning of love, or a platonic attachment, you’re uncertain. To discover things for yourself, and get a better bearing on your life, you’re ready to make a leap of your own. It reminds you of the time before moving here, this decision is minuscule in comparison to that… right? You’re not making a deal with the devil or anything. 

“I think… I think I’m going to accept.”

- - -

Anytime moving is involved, it’s a stressful endeavor. You know this firsthand, having come to Italy with a few things of luggage and starting off a new life with it. Much to your surprise, everything went far smoother than you imagined. Unlike your arrival, you had help in moving your boxes of belongings to Bruno’s villa, leaving you with little to do aside offering plenty of thanks. It felt like the start of an exciting new adventure, turning over a new leaf after a string of misfortunes. Leaving behind your old apartment building felt strange, but oddly right. Working through the manner of cutting your lease short was as awful as it sounds, but Bruno was by your side for all of it. 

What you can’t get off your mind, is how different your landlord acted in Bruno’s presence. When it had just been the two of you, you were treated with a complete lack of care, like your existence itself as a nuisance. There was a complete shift in demeanor upon walking into his office with Bruno by your side, like you were speaking to a different man. It reminded you of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, how he retained the same physical characteristics but adopted polite mannerisms. The whole exchange had been so jarring that you couldn’t help but ask Bruno about it, to which he offered a lackluster explanation. This haunting occurrence made you have more questions about his cryptic line of work, that you’re only fed spoonfuls of information at a time.

The two of them knew one another, but you don’t get the full spectrum of their relationship. It’s a gut feeling that it has to do with Bruno’s occupation, that he carefully skates around whenever brought up. 

Mostly settled in for the evening, you’ve been lounging on the balcony of Bruno’s home. It’s a quaint house, in the suburbs of Naples, further confirming that he’s well off to some extent. The ocean is within view, the house sitting in a gated community near the water. In the distance, you hear seagulls mixed with traffic over people coming home from their jobs. You hug your knees to your chest, staring down at your phone with a frown. It’s a mild summer day, the breeze from the ocean tickling your face, but not lifting your spirit. You had texted a few friends before your move in hopes of getting their assistance, only for none of them to return your calls or messages. 

It feels lonely. You feel lonely. 

If it hadn’t been for Bruno’s quick thinking and connections, it would’ve been the two of you moving boxes on your lonesome. This cold shoulder behavior hurts, and you can’t help but wonder if you did something wrong without knowing it. Had there been some sort of cultural aspect you were unaware of, that offended them? Is that why they’ve been ghosting you? It’s one thing if they were busy, but you see your friend group posting regularly on social media. A sigh leaves your lips, weariness from the week’s events getting to you. It won’t do any good to dwell on these things, but insecurities haunt you like a persistent cloud. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

Your head whips around at the voice behind you, settling down when you recognize Bruno. He’s in lounge wear, and you flush at the domestic sight. He’s a sight to behold, lithe frame pressed against the door and awaiting your response. It almost feels like you two are a married couple, being this casual with one another. The thought serves to fluster you further, so you push it away. 

After all he’s done to assist you, it’d feel wrong to add friend troubles to the ever growing list. “N-not really, no.” 

Bruno frowns at this, coming out to join you on the balcony. He takes the seat closest to you, leaning forward and gazing deep into your eyes. A hand is pressed to your bare thigh, though it stops before it can travel up in a lascivious way. Feeling his cold hand against your skin sends shivers down your spine, his knowing eyes making you shrink back into your seat. Guilt seeps into you for the lie. He seems in tune with people’s feelings, you’re no different. Instead of calling you out point blank on the falsehood, he offers reassurance.

“Remember what I said,” his tone is almost chastising, face scrunched up in displeasure. “I care about you greatly, [First]. You don’t have to carry your burdens alone.” 

It comes before you can register. Tears sting the corner of your glassy eyes, silent sniffles leaving your person. As you think back to the images of your friends from last night, hanging out in one of your favorite spots with you, your lower lip trembles. Why is it that all this is happening? That you finally found a group of people that share your interests and passions, only to be left behind without an explanation? You despise how your throat clenches, each breath you take becoming more labored than the last. Bruno takes the opportunity to sit beside you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulder and cooing into your ear.

All of it comes out like the floodgates of a dam, your head resting on his chest at his prompting. He holds you close, grounding you in reality, alternating between offering words of encouragement and peppering kisses onto your head. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his shirt, tears streaming down your face. No longer does shame occur to you, a forgotten thing of the past. You smell his rich cologne, that mixes in with the scent of the ocean. He’s been so good to you, too good. When the world has fallen apart, Bruno picks up the shards, placing them back together with tender care. Where would you be without his support? The thought is enough to bring a fresh set of sobs, self deprecating thoughts a mantra within your tattered mind. 

His warm breath fans across your face, soft lips making contact with the shell of your ear. “Amore mio, what is it that brought this on? Tell me, so that I can take care of it all.” 

“I have no one…! I don’t understand, none of it makes any sense,” you sniffle into his chest, voice muffled and waning. “My friends, even my coworkers! They act like I don’t… like I don’t even exist.” 

Large, reassuring hands cup either side of your damp cheeks, pulling you to look him in the eyes. His thumbs wipe away your tears, unblinking sapphire eyes steadying you. The world stops around you, nothing else registering other than his existence. How his skin feels against your own, the way his hair brushes against your face, how wonderfully close he is. He hasn’t left you, he’s still by your side. Your lips tremble, and you curse your wretched existence. A moment of clarity comes, and with it, your sobbing subsides. The two of you stay still, your face in his hands, until your hiccups are reduced to occasional sniffles. Even that fades with time, much to your relief.

You take a shaky, deep breath, hoping to gain better control of your fluctuating emotions. In the blink of an eye, Bruno leans forward, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. A noise of surprise leaves you, but before you can think to return it or move away, he pulls back. Looking up at you through heavily lidded eyes, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. The predetermined movement seems to have a physical effect on you, your face erupting into a blush. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions that Bruno brings with him.

“You’re wrong on a single account,” he murmurs, his voice sweeter than honey, ensnaring you in a web of his own making. “You have me, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s strange, you think. How like two sides of the same coin, so much can go wrong, but an equal amount can go right. For every loss, Bruno has almost made up for it in some other way, an equilibrium being maintained. Will one side tip over, ruining the delicate balance, and sending you into chaos? There’s no way of knowing, yet you can’t help but wonder. Your life is interconnected to his now, for better or for worse. No longer do you care for the innate selfishness of seeking out his warmth, canting your head into his hand and closing your eyes.

“Thank you, Bruno. You’re right… I do have you.” 

He seems content with your realization, a gradual smile spreading across his face. The sun has begun to set, warm colors dancing across his tanned skin. After a moment’s deliberation, he leaves your side, standing and looking towards the glass doors that lead inside.

“Let’s head inside for a cup of tea. It’s been a long day, so you shouldn’t stay up much later.” 

You nod your head lazily at his suggestion, using the back of your hand to wipe away at the wetness that remains on your face. A nice warm drink sounds wonderful just about now, even in the middle of the summer. Having a task to distract yourself with is an added benefit, so you get up, following after him to the kitchen. The brisk air conditioning feels like a welcome wake up call, and you look around at the tastefully decorated surroundings. Your new home, for the time being. Life is unpredictable, if anything.

It has been an exhausting day. Or more like an exhausting past few weeks, you think. For now, your attention remains solely on the person who walks in front of you. A bashful idea pops into your head, and you catch up to Bruno and walk by his side. He looks over at you with potent curiosity, and the opportunity is present to offer a confession. “I, um… I wanted to say that you have me too. I mean it.” 

Little did you know, there was never a time he believed otherwise.

[july13th2004]

Under The Sakura Moonlight

Characters/Relationships: Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Kratos/Anna, Kranna

Genre: Romance

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Smut

Word Count: 2735

Mirror Link: AO3

Summary: Kratos, Anna, Lloyd and Noishe travel back to Palmacosta in time for the early spring Sakura/Cherry Blossom festival, and in time to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

Author's Note: This is the much longer, explicit sequel to 'Under The Autumn Moonlight' I talked about a couple months ago. For personal reasons, I was adamant about posting this today. To date, this is also my longest one-shot! I normally don't like using Japanese words in my titles *glares at my late teen self*, but this title rolls off the tongue better than 'Under The Cherry Blossom Moonlight', imo.

Anyway, I'll reiterate the warning this time, because this one contains not one, but four graphic smut scenes, so please only read at your own discretion/risk!

After traveling for the better part of three months in the elements, the small family of four finally made it to Palmacosta again in time for the early spring festival. They found and stayed in the same two-bedroom cabin on the outskirts of town, left seemingly untouched since staying there for the early autumn Moon Festival the previous year. The area surrounding the cabin now covered with trees wearing bright pink and white hued blooms instead of brightly colored, warm hued leaves.

The Sakura Festival, or Cherry Blossom Festival, as some townsfolk called it, was brought to the bustling city by the same mysterious man who brought the Moon Festival. It was a celebration of the spring season and new beginnings, with the festival taking place every year from late March, to mid to late April. Sakura trees would line the stone covered main streets of the city as street vendors selling everything from food to toys would hawk their wares at passersby.

It was towards the end of week two of the festival now, and at night, often in the cool, gentle early spring breeze, petals would fall from the trees both surrounding the cabin and off the trees that lined the streets in the city. Anna stood by the window closest to their bed, watching in awe as the petals fell to the ground. Kratos sat at the edge of the bed, turning his attention away from polishing his sword to look at her, a soft smile permeating his features.

She turned her body to look at him, tearing her eyes away from the breathtaking sight outside. “I forgot to ask you earlier today, but what day is it? I haven’t had a chance to look at the calendar since we arrived…” Her visage wore a sheepish smile as she averted her eyes from his to stare at the floor.

“April 7th…” He replied, giving her a brief quizzical look before focusing his attention back to polishing his sword again. He was about to ask her why when the reason suddenly dawned on him, and she broke though the brief silence with his exact thoughts.

“Oh, five days until our wedding anniversary! You didn’t forget, did you?” Her grin was mischievous as she looked at him, waiting for him to meet her gaze.

“Of course not, my dear…”

“I need to start planning what we’ll have for dinner this year! What should it be? Hmm…”

Anna’s voice trailed off as she left the room to look at what they had in the kitchen as she began to plan the incredibly special dinner. Kratos sheathed his sword and placed it against the wall near their bedroom door, before sitting down at the edge of the bed again. Truthfully, he was at a loss of what to give to her this year for their anniversary. He usually gave her flowers or an expensive dress that she would only wear on particularly special occasions, but something about this year was different; he wanted to do something that she would always remember. Looking out the window, watching the pink and white hued petals as they fell from the tree closest to the window, he suddenly had an idea.

The next five days seemed to fly by for the four of them, with Kratos setting his plan in motion the morning after their discussion. When the day of their anniversary arrived, they spent most of it at the festival. Shortly after dinner, the couple helped each other wash and put away the dishes, before putting Lloyd and Noishe to bed. Then the two headed outside to sit under one of the surrounding trees atop a well-worn traveling blanket, casting their gazes up at the clear, midnight hued sky full of stars.

“So how was the hamburger steak tonight?” Anna inquired as she moved closer to him.

“It was wonderful, as always,” Kratos replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist, “Lloyd seemed to enjoy it as well.”

“Yeah, I wanted it to be something that he would enjoy too, since he’s starting to understand the importance of this day.”

A comfortable silence fell between the couple as they looked back up at the late-night sky. Anna laid her head on his shoulder and took one of his hands in hers, her thumb tracing random patterns over his skin.

Then she broke the silence, “Now, I wasn’t expecting anything, but don’t you usually have a gift for me today?”

Kratos leaned down and touched his forehead against hers when she looked up at him, his hand traveling up to rest against her cheek, “Well, since we’re alone, I suppose I can give you part of your gift now.”

Then the distance closed between their lips. He deepened the kiss, tongue entering her mouth to intertwine with hers. His hands fell to her waist as the two shifted into a more comfortable position, with her lying down on the blanket and him hovering over her. She let out a contented sigh against his lips as her hands drifted down his torso to untie the obi on his black and purple colored kimono, that all too familiar heat and ache beginning to creep between her legs.

His lips peppered languid kisses from her jawline all the way down to the nape of her neck. He propped himself up on one forearm while his other hand traveled down to her waist to deftly untie the obi of her kimono. Her face flushed bright crimson and she let out a soft moan when his fingertips grazed over some skin just above the juncture of her hips, before drifting back up to lightly brush over the now hardening peaks of her breasts, stilling his lips against the base of her neck.

“Hmm… You’re not wearing anything underneath your kimono…” He pulled back to gaze down at her, a playful smirk on his features.

“I-I thought we would be going to bed after dinner-”

Kratos effectively silenced her response with his lips, smiling into the kiss. She raked her fingertips down the chiseled and sculpted muscles of his bare torso as his fingers slowly traipsed down hers, landing in the soft curls above her womanhood. A gasp escaped her lips as his fingers toyed with her sensitive nub and damp folds, his lips and tongue moving down the column of her neck and across her shoulder. He inserted one finger into her entrance, then two, and then slowly began thrusting both fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long before she came, crying out his name and releasing onto his hand.

He pulled his fingers out and wiped his hand on the blanket, rutting his still clothed arousal against her wet folds, the friction relieving some of the throbbing ache as he captured her lips in his again. Anna tangled her fingers in his hair as her other hand drifted down to lightly palm his hardened length before freeing it from the confinements of his boxer-briefs and positioning him at her entrance. She let out another blissful sigh as he plunged into her, building a steady rhythm of languid thrusts until they both met their releases at the same time, satisfied moans and whimpers echoing in the air around them.

The couple quickly gathered themselves after coming down from their highs and made their way back inside the cabin. Kratos tossed the travel blanket into the laundry basket by their bedroom door, before picking Anna up and carrying her bridal style through the threshold. He put her down and quietly closed the door as she let out a surprised gasp, looking at the bed that was now covered in cherry blossom petals and fully bloomed buds.

“My gift to you this year… Is to give you a night you’ll always remember…”

She looked up at him, mouth slightly agape, before he closed the distance again between their lips, giving her a searing, almost bruising kiss. Their kimonos swiftly fell to the floor, and he pulled away momentarily to remove his boxer-briefs before crushing his lips to hers again. He lifted her up and carried her over to one side of the bed, where he sat down and she straddled his waist, the faint floral scent emanating from the petals and buds scattered all over the bed filling the air around them as their lips continued to meld together. Her fingers ran through his spiky, auburn locks as she lifted her hips and positioned herself above the head of his stiffened manhood, then lowered herself down until he was fully seated inside her.

His hands fell to her waist, holding her in place as his lips peppered lingering licks and kisses down the column of her neck. She didn’t protest the lack of friction and movement, as she knew he sometimes liked to sit there and enjoy the feel of her walls clenching around him for a few minutes. Fifteen minutes passed before he removed his hands from her waist, allowing her to slowly roll her hips in a steady rhythm as his lips drifted down to her breasts, tongue languidly licking each of her hardened nipples, eliciting a loud moan from her lips. Her hands reached up and gripped his shoulders as she began bouncing up and down atop his pulsating length, quickening her pace with each upward and downward thrust of her hips.

Soft whimpers of his name escaped her lips when his tip hit her in just that right spot at her core. She leaned in and peppered rough kisses along the column of his neck, her thrusts becoming more erratic as she chased her release. When she came, she came hard, crying out his name and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His hands fell to her waist, then firmly gripped her ass, roughly pulling her against him as she rode out her own release. He came moments later, groaning out her name against the crook of her neck as he completely emptied himself into her.

They held each other tightly as they came down from their highs, the sound of their ragged breaths mingling with the scent emanating from the petals and blossoms scattered around the bed, a few having fallen to the floor as a result of their copulation. Anna pulled back to cast her gaze down at him, half-lidded eyes locking with his own. Kratos reached up to briefly tangle his fingers in her medium-brown locks, before pulling her down into another rough, searing kiss. She cupped his face as his hands and fingertips traced down her back and firmly gripped her ass again, deepening the kiss as she plunged her tongue against his. He stood up from where he sat at the side of the bed, taking her with him, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he wandered toward the wall, their lips still locked in a passionate dance.

She felt his manhood harden inside her as her back hit the wall, pleasantly stretching her walls. His lips latched onto the nape of her neck, roughly kissing and licking her there as his hips began a slow, steady thrust against hers. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he picked up the pace and began pounding into her. The moment his tip hit that right spot at her core again, was the moment she met her release, loudly crying out his name, her fingers roughly tangling in his hair as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. After a couple more rough, intense thrusts, he met his own release, completely pouring himself into her as he loudly moaned out her name.

“Are you all right? Do you want to stop and go to bed?” His deep, husky voice inquired a short time later, cutting through the sound of her staggered breathing as she came down from her high.

“I-I’m all right, just…give me a minute, then I can go another round…” She replied with determination, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall, her arms falling limply at her sides.

He always had more stamina than her when it came to strenuous physical activity. When it came to making love though, she always tried to match him, wanting nothing more than to satisfy and please him just as much as he satisfied and pleased her. She untangled her legs from around his waist as he pulled out and lowered her to the floor, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back to steady her breathing. Then he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the bed, placing her down on a double stack of plush pillows, cherry blossom petals and buds framing her face with her hair splayed around her.

Dark, still half-lidded eyes gazed down into hers after he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her. He softly cupped her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks as he captured her lips in his. Her small, but lithe fingers trailed down his muscular chest, quickly finding his now flaccid length and firmly taking him in her hand. She slowly stroked him, her thumb slightly toying with his tip, until he hardened in her hand, a hiss escaping his lips as he roughly kissed and tongued the nape of her neck. His hands traveled down to gently cup and massage her breasts, thumbs lightly toying with her hardened nipples, eliciting soft whimpers from her lips.

She wrapped her arms around him and her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles to lock him in place as he inserted his manhood into her. His breath hitched as he felt her muscles clamp and pulsate around him, until he fully seated himself inside her. He began a slow and steady roll against her hips, quickly picking up of the pace and intensity of his thrusts until he was pounding relentlessly into her, hitting her core repeatedly, loud moans escaping from her parted lips. To further steady herself, she raised her arms and firmly gripped the thick, wooden bars on the headboard.

He gripped her hips tightly, his eyes entranced by the hypnotic bounce of her breasts as he continued to pound into her, the bed creaking loudly in time with his intense, powerful thrusts. She came hard, screwing her eyes shut and nearly screaming out his name, the sound of her voice echoing around the room. When he came moments after her, he came hard, completely emptying his heavy load into her and riding out both of their releases as he loudly groaned out her name. Her arms wrapped around him as he collapsed against her when he was spent, rubbing his back to help him steady his breathing in the same way he did to her earlier.

Kratos rolled over onto his back, pulling Anna with him so she was laying on top of him. The couple cuddled in comfortable silence for a time, his arms wrapping her in a tight embrace as she planted soft, lingering kisses across his chest.

“Happy anniversary, my dear,” He spoke, breaking the silence, tilting her chin up so he could softly kiss her, “I…hope my gift this year was to your satisfaction…”

“It was the best anniversary gift you’ve ever given me! And also the second-best gift you’ve ever given me…” She softly exclaimed, her hand reaching up to gently caress his face with the palm of her hand.

“What is the first?” He asked, giving her a soft, quizzical smile.

“Lloyd…” She replied, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

He kissed the crown of her head, running his fingers through her hair, “Well, I only had a small part in that-”

His voice was swallowed up by the sound of her softly snoring against his chest. Kratos briefly gazed out the window, watching as the pink and white hued petals fell from the trees in the pale moonlight. He turned his attention back to his softly snoring wife, planting another soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“I love you, Anna…” He murmured against the crown of her head before closing his eyes and joining her in slumber.

The two would stay in that position, tangled in each other’s arms, for the rest of the night, under the early spring moonlight.

[kpopchangedme]

Nocturna: Part I

The fragile peace between undead and lycanth is imperilled your arrival to the Inferorum Castrum. Between the changing power dynamics of the wolf pack and the insatiable urges of the vampire king, you aren’t exactly sure where your loyalty lies.

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom | You | Bang Chan

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: NSFW | Supernatural!au | Vampires | Werewolves | Angst | Romance | Love Triangle  [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “I thought you were dead” requested by Anon

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

The beast is nearing, you can hear its growls over your frenetic pants. You accelerate, not noticing the low branches scratching your face as you run deeper than ever into the ancient forest. Climbing a tree could be a great escape plan if the monster wasn’t already so close. Your lungs are afire, threatening to give in any moment. Your heartbeat is deafening, the sound resonating within you as if to scream you’re still alive. It’s the only thing pushing you to keep running, survive.

You don’t want to die. You want to live, reach your village. You promised your grandmother you would be back safe and sound. Behind you, there’s an animalistic low howl. The others were right, you should never have set foot in the Forbidden Forest. Now you are doomed. “HELP,” you scream, not slowing your erratic race down, “SOMEONE HELP ME!” 

But there is no one to hear, no other human soul within these woods, you’re all alone. The beast has gained ground again. Its large paws quicker than your feet on the dead leaves, and between the tree roots. You look over your shoulder, meeting its glowy eyes. It’s a question of mere seconds before it jumps on you. Understanding this, you blindly fork to the left, unable to see in the thick darkness. It is the middle of the day, but the sun rays don’t shine through the high branches of the old trees. The forest is black and foreign, no wonder villagers never walk through these woods, or rather... Never come out again. It wasn’t a problem for you before today, but you had never wandered this deep, never would’ve hunted this far from the outskirts. It’s all because of that monster...

You don’t see it coming when the wolf snaps your shoulder and you fall to the ground screaming went it releases you. The momentum of your race causes you to tumble and roll on yourself for a few meters in a small glade. You hit roots and rocks as you go before you’re finally immobilized. The beast has stopped too. It now stands many steps back, observing as you desperately attempt to crawl away. The wolf’ canines are exposed, glimmering and its muzzle trembles on a silent ferocious growl.

The scariest smile. 

Its hind is raised, legs bent and ready to jump to end you. That is no normal wolf. Its silvery coat of fur and bear size are anything but that of those you’ve faced through your years of hunting. Aching all over, you stop trying to crawl. You can’t escape. Instead, you muster your courage and reach for the bow to your side. You aren’t going to be eaten alive, not without a fight. As you load a wood arrow from your broken quiver, the demon wolf snaps its jaw on thin air, challenging. There’s a strange intelligent spark in its eyes. Your vision is blurry, tinted by the blood running down your face. As if the attack wasn’t enough, the fall severely injured you. Even if you miraculously manage to kill the beast, you’re going to bleed out here.

“Well,” a male voice suddenly rises from the surrounding blackness, startling you, “this is just rude.”

The wolf diverts his yellow glare to your right at the interruption. You are not relieved at all though, all hair rises on your body. There’s nobody to be found where the voice came from, no one visible to the naked eye. That is bad. The Forbidden Forest is infamous for sheltering the worst creatures known to humankind. Your screams must have attracted one. The silver beast prances in hesitation, searching for the newcomer too. Using the diversion, you aim your arrow at its neck, holding your breath for a clear shot.

“Is it silver?” The strange voice echoes again, this time closer to your left. You turn, alarmed, sending droplets of blood flying. Again, there’s nothing there. Whatever this supernatural being is; it’s agile, maybe the wolf is the least of your worries now. There’s a chuckle, “Go for the head.” Your grip tightens on your hunting bow. You pull at the bowstring, trying to ignore the ache in your wounded shoulder. The silver wolf growls, louder this time, before barking madly. “Shoot.” The voice presses you once more from somewhere above, and the wolf’s jaw snaps on nothing like a protest. “The head!” Finally, you see him: the strange man that voice belongs to. He’s lazily leaning against a tree nearby, laughing. He’s built but lean, and as pale as death. Not a man, you realize; a bloodsucker. 

You don’t even have to ponder a second more to take your shot.

You let go of the string and the arrow whistles, cutting through the air in direction of its target. Unfortunately, it is stopped by a steel grip, millimetres away from marble skin. You have never missed a single shot, but there is a first for everything.

“I meant for the dog’s.” The alabaster man speaks airily, the remnant of his amusement completely gone.

You’ve heard of creatures of the night, through legends told by your people to keep children away from the forest. Bloodsucking eternal undead that masquerade as humans to lure their prey. Pale as parchment, beautiful as gods and strong as a hundred men. Your instinct is to flee when the vampire's eyes narrow dangerously into two sanguine slits, but your injuries prevent you from standing at all. You fall back to your knees in pain, broken. Your whole back and face are ablaze, cut open by the beast and the fall.

“That wasn’t very nice...” The undead breaks your arrow in his hand with no apparent effort, and your eyes widen. “Help me,” he mimics with a higher pitch, pushing himself off the tree, “someone help me!” He walks to the middle of the trees, and the giant wolf steps back in the forest, barking madly. You sure are going to miss that beast if it flees so easily in front of this new one.

“You aren’t supposed to be out,” you hush, clutching to your bow for reassurance, “the sun is still high!”

“Exactly.” With feline grace, the vampire crouches in front of you. He’s even more stunning from up close, eyes stretching in straight lines with a pointy chin. “Some of us are trying to rest, tidbit.” The creature is only this pretty because he’s an amazing predator, a trap perfected to distract and fascinate humans, like a colourful poisonous frog. At the comparison, your stomach turns. “You got a lot of nerves, I like that.” He admits, so close, that when you raise your head, the only thing you see is his crimson irides. “Head kills the wolf. For me… Straight at the heart. It always amazes me, how forgetful and feeble mortals are.”

“I a-apologise,” your voice falters, “I was just trying to escape, s-sir!” There’s something about the creature that inspires reverence, perhaps it’s his obvious power. He seemed angry, but at your fearful respect, he softens. 

“Hear that, tail-wagger? You are the reason I was disturbed... And now grumpy!” The vampire glares somewhere above your head, sounding far away. “Couldn’t you have finished this, clean and quiet? Do you have any idea what time it is!” 

“Noon,” you turn your head at the new voice, mouth falling open as another man emerges from the deep woods. He’s stark naked, tanned skin and sculpted muscles exposed in all their glory. Although, that’s not why you are staring. You know him very well, would recognize that silvery mass of messy curls anywhere.

Chan. 

He is your closest friend. You met at the market, both trying to sell game when you were about fifteen. Chan isn’t from your village but he is a nomad hunter and visits often. He even knows your grandma. You went on a few trips together throughout the years. He’s a skilled hunter, second best to you in the area. He must have been in the forest and heard your screams.  He came to your rescue. 

"R-Run..." You want to yell at him to run away, insists he leaves you behind and saves himself, but you only manage to whisper. "Go..." He doesn't seem to hear. 

“The sun is up. Which means I am well within my rights, Jeonha...” Chan spits the last word whilst baring his teeth in a feral threat. You have never seen him like that.

This can’t be. 

Does he know the vampire, isn’t he here to save you? As though sensing your confusion, the young hunter turns to assess you. Except there’s something else instead of his familiar brown irides. A terrifying yellow glow, one that you’ve seen before. Impossible.

“You…” In shock, you try to wrap your head around what he is, terrified.

“Go away,” the wolf says to the vampire, tone cavernous, “she’s mine.” You notice Chan’s mouth is soaked with blood, your blood, you blanch even more.

“The human seems to disagree,” the undead reaches for your face, and you recoil by reflex but he follows, “and I hate being disturbed in the middle of the day. I deserve a treat.” His icy fingers brush some blood on your battered cheek, and he takes them to his mouth. Instantly, his almond eyes roll back. “Oh,” he mutters in awe. It takes him seconds to speak again, but it feels like an eternity. “Sweet...” Without warning, his hand wraps around your arm to yank you upwards, making you yelp in pain. Your entire body is cut and bleeding, you really are going to die. 

The dark animal in Chan's body appears in front of you two before you can fight back, “She's mine! ” He points out angrily like you’re some sort of toy he’s being denied. “You can’t just take her! He won’t stand for it, I wo-” 

“Too bad! I haven’t fed in a while...” You tug at your arm in despair, but the vampire doesn’t budge. “And aren’t you forgetting something, mutt?”

“Jeonha...” He grunts, mouth closed, looking like he’s about to rip the other’s throat open.

The vampire simply waves his hand in the air. “Shoo puppy, shoo!”

Chan narrows his eyes meanly but remains unimpressed. His lips curl, uncovering menacing canines as sound birth at the bottom of his gut. They are going to fight.

“Help...” You try to scream but only manage to whimper, last strength abandoning you. The two supernatural creatures turn to you like one. “Save me... Please, save me...” There’s no one else to hear, but you still have to try one last time. You’re about to pass out from your injuries. Your vision is blurring.

With amazing timing, a long powerful howl echoes from somewhere deep inside the forest. Instantly, Chan steps back as if summoned. His eyes go from the woods to you in haste. “I’ll get you back soon.” He promises with a nod as though you aren’t dying on the ground. You want to believe he isn't the one who bit off your shoulder. That this thing wasn't him. You want to belive he cares for you.

The pale vampire chuckles, finding this entertaining. “I won’t let that happen, dog. And if you ever dare disturb me again... I won’t be as forgiving.” 

“C-Ch…” You attempt, hoping to appeal to the man-wolf’s humanity. He seems like a far better end than the cold-one.

It almost works. “Sorry,” Chan whispers with fatality. With that, the beast in a human body growls one last time, turning to walk back into the forest. He doesn't even look back. When the vampire’s attention fully returns, he pulls you closer, making your stomach sink to your feet. The only thing holding you upwards now is his arm wrapped around your waist.

“What are we gonna do, dear? I thought you were dead meat...” You wiggle with desperation in his grip, like a worm fighting the hook. He sighs, “How unappetizing...” That alone succeeds in making you freeze. His lips stretch into a devilish smile. “Don’t worry, I like my humans way warmer.”

You are not stupid, you know what he is and what he sustains from, but vampires never killed people from your village. You’ve been the guardians of their sanctuary woods for centuries. 

“I am from Ianua,” you mutter weakly, eyes fluttering shut. His impossibly large grin widens, uncovering his fangs. “You can’t k-kill me...”

“I could but I didn’t tidbit.” His scarlet irides are now half-moon shapes. “You went ahead and picked a fight with a mad dog.” You try to free yourself from his grip once more, but you’re too weak by now. Your knees give up. The vampire catches you easily, holding you up in an embrace. “I don’t think you have much time left… So weak...” He whispers, pressing his face into your hair. “Do you really want me to save you?”

“P-Please…” You breathe out, “Please, save me...” 

“As you wish, tidbit.” His fingers delicately brush hair away from your face. “But only because you begged. Sleep.”

Everything goes black.

Nocturna Masterlist | HALLOWEEN

[floatingpetals]

Sketches

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None. 

Word Count: 1330+

Request: “Hello? I have an idea and if you can write it, it would be amazing, reader finds out about Steve passion for drawing so she ask him to draw her nude.. she’s wild and doesn’t shy out about this but Steve in the other hand actually likes her and idk do whatever you want to the rest” -Anon

A/N: Wow, so this has been sitting in my inbox forever. Along with a lot more. I hope this is makes up for my incredibly slow response. Things got stupid crazy and I had to step away for a while to get back on my feet. I hope you all enjoy though!

The gifs, not mine. Credit to the wonderful owner.

Pages after pages, were beautifully rendered pencil sketches of people, animals and buildings. Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes when she uncovered the stash of notebooks tucked away in Steve’s closet. Her mouth hung open as she flipped through the pages, in awe of the talent. There were pages of cityscapes, dogs from the park, even a few of the Avengers. She gently ran a finger over the graphite lines, careful not to smudge the pages as she did. Every sketch was breath taking, the amount of passion and care in each pencil stroke. It looked as if they could jump out of the pages. How was she not aware of this?

“Hey, Y/N did you find-?” Steve’s voice cut short, gasping at the sight in front of him. Y/N sat in the middle of his walk-in closet, his stash of notebooks sprawled out around her. She twisted around, blinking innocently up at Steve. “Where did you find those?”

“In the box under your boots.” Y/N shrugged, turning back to flip through the pages. Steve sputtered behind her. He couldn’t find a reason to get mad at her snooping. He was the one who sent her in his closet to find his box of clothes he was going to donate, he just didn’t think she’d go poking around.

“Oh, I couldn’t find the box.” Y/N answered his silent question with a wave over her shoulder, her head still buried in the book. “Holy shit, Steve. Why did you never tell me you could draw?!” Y/N gasped, holding up a page to show Steve. Steve flushed, quickly walking into the closet to snatch the book out of her hands.

“It’s never come up.” He muttered, bending to scoop up a collection of notebooks. Y/N made a noise of protest, but dived for another sketchbook that slipped from his arms. Steve hadn’t thought anyone would have found his notebooks, nor did he think he’d have to worry about anyone finding that particular sketchbook.

“No!” His cry was too slow, Y/N already flipping through the pages. With each turn, her eyes grew wider in awe, grinning as she looked over the sketches.

“Steve. I had no idea you did these kinds of sketches.” Y/N smirked, waving a page of beautifully rendered sketches of a series of models posed in relaxed position on couches, and chairs. What really brought attention to the pages, each of the models in the nude. She couldn’t help but imagine Steve, little old blushing gentlemanly Steve, looking over the models and sketching out their naked bodies. Each line was obviously drawn with care. She could almost feel his love for his drawings, the shadows and light captivating. She was in awe.

Steve stammered, his face bright red as he struggled to find an excuse. She of all people, wasn’t supposed to find his books. He was already incredibly secretive with his hobbies, but for Y/N to find out one of his passions, it was borderline mortifying.

“No- It’s just- I don’t-.”

“Draw me.”

Steve froze midsentence. “What?”

“Draw me.” Y/N twisted around on to her knees. She beamed up him, eyes shining with excitement. Steve stared down at her completely thrown.

“N-What?”

“Please? I can’t even begin to talk about how beautiful these drawings are.” Steve flushed, head ducking in embarrassment. “I would love to be a part of your sketches. You clearly put in care and time for each one.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Steve hesitated. Y/N instantly popped up and gripped at his shirt.

“Please, Steve.”

Steve sucked in air as he stared into her beautiful pleading eyes, his resolve crumbling by the second. If he stared any longer, he had no doubt he’d cave. She had him wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. There were days he would find himself staring at her out of the corner of his eyes. She had an air about her, something that drew him in. She was gorgeous, vibrant, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having Y/N as his muse. If he was honest, he wanted her to be more to him then just his muse, but could never find the courage to act on his emotions.

“Well, I guess that wouldn’t be too bad.” Steve drawled, uncertainly. Y/N beamed up at him, throwing her arms around his middle with a tight squeeze. Steve caught her with ease, gently hugging her back with a light blush. “Just let me know whenever you want to pose.”

“How about right now?” Y/N asked earnestly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Steve hesitated, still caught off guard by the turn of events

“Um, sure?”

Y/N giggled, squeezing his middle before stepping around him into his room. Steve gripped bent to pick up one of the sketchbooks, a nearly blank book, and turned to face the room. His breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him, nearly choking on his own spit. Y/N was standing beside the bed, sans a shirt and quickly unbuttoning her pants. Steve made a strangled noise, his face turning crimson. 

“What are you doing?!” He yelped covering his eyes with the large sketchbook. Y/N glanced over her shoulder, confused.  

“Undressing?”

“What?! Why?” Steve squeaked, gripping the sketchbook till his knuckles turned white.

“Because you’re going to draw me.”

Steve made another noise, almost pained. Y/N giggled, turning to face him with a sly grin.

“Oh Stevie. Did you think I meant with clothes on?” As she crossed the room, she unbuttoned her pant and kicked them off. She could see Steve nod, though hidden behind the book. She stopped a step away, grin still in place as she reached up to pull the book down. Steve refused to make eye contact looking anywhere but her. “No need to be shy, Steve. You know I don’t mind you looking. You aren’t very secretive about it either.”

Steve gulped, missing the teasing tone in he. He was too focused on keeping his eyes shut as she stepped up to run a hand down the front of his shirt. He held in a groan as she raked her nails down his stomach. She giggled as his muscles clenched under her finger tips, a smirk spreading on her face when he twitched.

“Steve.” He grunted, eyes still clenched. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, he cracked open an eye, blushing once more at seeing her red lace bra. His eyes snapped up at her giggle, tensing. She didn’t care he had been caught staring, instead it only confirmed her suspicions. Without a word, Y/N gently cupped his cheek and stood on her toes. Steve’s breath caught when she pressed her lips against his own, his mind going blank for a split second before it kicked in. Releasing the sketchbook, he dragged her against his front, molding her against his chest as he poured all he bottled emotions into their kiss. Y/N sighed happily, smiling against his lips. She had to lean back to catch her breath, digging her nails into his shirt. Steve’s eyes were glazed over, his pupils blown so wide, the blue was almost gone. Y/N had to stop and stare in awe. Not only did this man make masterpieces, he was one himself.

“I think, we can finish drawing for later.” Y/N hummed, tugging him down to kiss him again. Steve hummed in agreement, already completely forgetting how they go to this point. Y/N had been sitting on making a move since, clearly, he wasn’t going to anytime soon. Seeing the opportunity, she gladly took it. And was she happy she did. At this rate, if they stayed standing any longer Y/N’s legs would give out. She tugged at his shirt while stepping backwards to the bed, the sketchbook laying forgotten on the floor. They’d get back to that much, much later.

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[obduratemoon]

Sedimentary City 17: STALE INFINITY

Jan saw before him an elderly man who had begun to stoop with age, even as he sat with the arrogance of a king or perhaps the insouciance of a street urchin. Around him stood an assemblage of young graceful men, slender as saplings, inclined towards their boss.

“Here he is, boss.” Pyotr said with sudden deference, head bowed and downcast eyes as if scanning the floor.

“Ah, Jan. I heard you had a bit of a run in, but good to see that you made it. I sent my best, a jackal and a force of nature, a born destroyer of men. Thank you, Pyotr.”

Pyotr made a small bow and receded, leaving Jan before the boss. Rollo had disappeared some time ago.

The old autocrat flicked two fingers up and a thin attendant came to his side with an open box. He withdrew a cigarette and perched it then between parched lips. Here in this throne room it was yet dark and in the weak grey light the man’s lips looked ashen and desaturated. The attendant lit the end of the cigarette and the boss inhaled, slow and languorous like a yawn or a stretch. The cherry glowed bright and threw off a remarkable amount of warmth and reddening light. Jan could finally see the man’s face against that cherried flame: pale and wrinkled, the lines and folds of his skin looking like fine filigree work on an ivory sculpture. His eyes were dull and black like two pinpricks in the fabric of reality, as if the world were a mirage projected upon a skein and only through these two perforations could one glimpse at the uncompromising blackness behind it.

The old man coughed, a loud and extended hacking which reverberated around the room and went on for some time. Jan watched as this sentient organism was reduced to a series of automatic and uncontrollable spasms. An attendant came with a scrap of fabric into which the decrepit man spat some sputum.

“You see Jan, I owe your father a lot. We made a deal, a good deal for both of us. He is a powerful man up there,” he motioned his hands, gesturing upwards, “and I am a powerful man down here. I gave him my word to take care of you. I heard you got scratched during your journey, huh?”

“Yes, but it is patched up now,” Jan replied. 

After the attack the three trekked in silence and in haste for a long time, Rollo hanging far behind and sporadically returning, smelling of fresh blood and viscera. At last the narrow corridors opened up to a large room with ceilings so high the light from the headlamps seemed spent before reaching any destination. It had three doors set in what seemed like an endless obsidian slab.

“We’re almost there -- one door gets us home. The other two: death. Another kind of home.” Pyotr smiled sardonically, “I hope I remember.”

Once inside Jan saw that it was a catacomb of pathways and dwellings, a hive for a listless population who cast furtive looks of awe and fear upon them. Many wore threadbare All-Suits and had the pallid and forlorn look of purposeless men. Everyone was given what they needed to live but what was this subterranean group of men to hope for besides their deaths. They would die stranded in this place, their lineage, which had groped like the proboscis of life itself suddenly curtailed in an egressless finality. For a human to want to continue living, pulled forward as if caught in the midst of a cavalcade by the hope of the myriad days ahead, the reality of the end must be constantly held at bay

“Good, good!” exclaimed the boss man. “Wouldn't do to have you damaged. Would you like to see what was exchanged for you?”

A beautiful youth with a shorn head and a neck muscled like a bull pushed in a large box covered by a crimson fabric. The frail authority stood up and circumambulated the box and, like a magician, he pulled off the covering.

Inside was a transparent box which held a pair of lungs, disembodied but breathing and animated, filling and unfilling in slow metronomic regularity. It was set like a gem in a pool of dark vermillion liquid like a siamese amphibian. The young man pointed a dull lamp at it so that it was spot-lit like a rare treasure. The old one smiled sweetly beckoned for Jan to come closer. 

“What do you think, huh? They tell me this comes from a promising athlete. I wonder what happened for him to lose these. Probably threw it all away for some trifling idea. I hope you are not like one of these stubborn young men, so disinclined towards the project of staying alive.” 

Jan peered into the box. It was an unnatural sight, the unconnected organ, removed from a former body and made to be all by itself, self contained and purposeless. At the moment it was respiring for no one.

The old man held up his hand and a lithe attendant handed him a lit cigarette. He took a drag and was racked by stuttering coughs. At length he regained control over his diaphragm. 

“As you can see, my lungs won’t last much longer,” he looked at Jan, “I think it was a good trade. A life for a life. Your father will keep me alive for as long as you are alive. So, my boy, you must live here a good long while!” 

Jan was not listening but rather he was still transfixed by the sight of the lungs breathing automatically in its mechanical bardo. Although organ transplants had long been routine and easy, Jan wondered at the uncanniness of it, this emigration of foreign flesh.

The surgery capsule has the shape of an octagonal cylinder, a solid slip of chrome. It is a kind of metallic sarcophagus. Contained inside is an array of arms and tools: auto-cauterizing scalpels, tubes, needles. The unit handles almost all surgeries including transplants. It can keep the organ bathed in a nutritious pseudo plasma until time for its incorporating into the target body. It is also capable of keeping a patient on multiple bypass for hours, a man can lay there fully eviscerated and organ-less for almost a  week. It’s manifold tiny arms structured like a splay tree can suture the fractalized interface of vessels and nerves in parallel, drastically speeding up the critical step of connecting a new body component. Once the capsule is sealed it is absolutely sterile preventing any chance of infection.

The ability to so easily switch out organs heralded an age of semi immortality.  The IV feeds deliver an assortment of nutrients, chemicals, and biologic nanobots: immuno-manipulators which can up or down regulate precise aspects of the body’s homeostasis as needed. 

Medical science provides a pseudo immortality. While the brain could not be replaced, most organs could be transplanted, most limbs could be made cybernetic.

“This is your room, Jan, one of the best. I live nearby if you need me. Rollo lives in the barracks. I can show you sometime. We have arranged a companion for you as well, she will take care of all your needs.” At this Pyotr gave him a sly and significant look and repeated: “All of your needs.”

“She?”

“Yes, you’ll see what I mean. Don’t be put off, you are lucky. Very. You saw those people from before, you don’t want to be them. The boss man wants to give you something of your old life. You don’t have to worry about anything, she will bring you anything you need.”

Jan looked around the grey box of a room. A large low bed, a table with chairs, some organizers, a strange sculpture in the corner, a kind of interior obelisk. On one side an All Suit hung from the wall. On the other was a doorless entrance to another room, the bathroom.

“There’s no plumbing here, so she will bring you water and take care of your chamber pot. And food. The food they deliver here is laced with sedative. They want to keep us sleepy. We extract it out, don’t worry, but she will also bring you the pills we make from the extraction. There is a little extra in them. Rollo and I are not allowed to take them, we have to stay sharp. But you, Jan, you are on vacation now, haha.”

“What’s her name?”

“Her name? I forget, you can ask her, or maybe you can make one up for her.”

They stood there for a few moments in silence, the ineffable weight of reality coalescing in Jan’s chest. Was this the rest of his life?

“You’ll be ok. This is the land of no future. And the past is too distant. Here is only present. And there are no gods, only men. We didn’t make this world. We are free to kill and destroy, but also to create and be good. We arelike actors living in this nightmare, but at least it’s not our nightmare.”

Jan thought back to the pain amplifier, the phantasms that were urgent and real even though he knew they were crafted and implanted.

“Jan, I ask you. When you have nightmares, or dreams, there are people in them yes? Do you think those people suffer as much as the dreamer himself?”

“I’m not sure. Is there any difference between the dreamer and the dreamed?”

“Ah yes, I wonder too. Maybe the same. To kill is to die as well. That would make me and Rollo ghosts, yes? Haha!”

With a wry and bitter smile Pyotr turned to leave. Jan layed on the bed and looked up at the featureless ceiling. Long bereft of his old All Suit and belongings, he could not bring up a hologram of Eva nor anyone nor anything else from his past life. He ruminated over them in his mind but each pass of remembering seem to only wear out an image already vague and faded. To recollect is like bringing a deep sea creature up from the depths. On the surface it dies.

He lay like this for a long while, motionless and horizontal slowly passing and in out of consciousness, not sure if the room was a room or merely the shape of a room. Room shaped, just as he was Jan shaped. Then he heard a slight shuffle and saw someone laying things on the table. His heart raced.

“Eva?”

She turned, “Yes?”

Jan got up too quickly for his blood to catch up and felt dizzy. He saw a woman with short black hair and delicate features looking at him steadily without expression. Instead of an all suit she wore a dress, a simple one piece without much color or ornamentation.

“Oh … are you? No, you’re not. You’re the one Pyotr told me about?”

“Yes, I am to be your companion.” The sound of her voice was dusky and complex, imbued with rich harmonics and a hint of rasp. Jan took a few steps closer. Her skin was white as sheet paper, subtly translucent and pink displaying an intimation of blood flowing within her. She was neither tall nor short but very slight and insubstantial.

“I brought you some food.” she said, gesturing towards the table. A square of nutrition cube, brown and replete, sat upon a crude dish. Next to it were two pills and a glass of water. “The pills are the sedatives. It takes the edge off time.”

“Time.” Jan said to himself. The weight of time hit him in that moment; the aeons that came before him and would come after him, unceasing and unconcerned that within its endless expanse it contained all life and reality, all sadness and joy. It simply moved on like a ship apathetic of its boundless cargo. 

Jan sat down and ate, an act which was no great pleasure nor chore. The nutritional cube tasted like garlic and mud. The woman sat across from him and simply watched, sometimes at him and sometimes beyond him. In a place with no windows, a person had nowhere else to look through.

“What is your name?”

“You can give me one. Perhaps Eva?”

Jan looked up at her in shock, into black eyes. There was a small smile on her face, an inviting look, or perhaps a simulacrum of one.

“No, I’d rather not call you that.”

After finishing his meal, he walked outside and looked down the long corridors which led off in both directions. Either terminated in darkness. The walls were bare except for doors and there was no one in sight. Except for the weak light escaping from his room, there was no illumination. All around him a forest of silence hemmed and contained the world into a small and quiet place. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do.

In the room the woman had scarcely moved. The table had been cleared except for the two pills and the glass of water. She sat with her head bowed and back slumped slightly as if in some indolent prayer. 

Jan returned and swallowed the pills. He drank down the water like a man parched and lost in a desert. He lay down on the bed and the light seemed to dim and grow warmer with hues of vermillion and yellow. He felt a slackening and letting go throughout his body and could sense the viscosity of the fluid coursing through his veins and arteries. The bed, which had been firm and ungiving, seemed to depress in order to cradle him and give him the soft sensation of a perpetual and endless sinking. He was going down, further and further. He imagined sinking into a shallow grave where he could sleep forever within its downy indentation.

The woman came to lay on her side next to him and gently held him in her hands. Slowly she stroked his hair and the side of his face as his pupils dilated wide and round. She nuzzled him sweetly and the warmth of her thin body made Jan feel like he could live in eternity if only he were a rock or piece of dirt, thoughtless and un-discomfited by the howling wraiths inside him. Her light embrace reminded him of the cocoon he always yearned for, the start and the end.

It seemed like a blink of an eye but somehow now she was crouched above him. He saw her face above him, her keen eyes miscegenated with sorrow and cruelty. He could now see her Adam's apple working underneath the white skin of her neck and the veins blue as cobalt. She bent down to kiss his face now wet with tears. Her face blurred and oscillated between Eva’s and her’s, and sometimes to a third face which looked like no one he knew at all, a blank and abstract kind of face that seemed alien and suprahuman.

“Eva?”

“Yes”, she replied, her reed thin body arched over him like a leopard over prey.