#don’t even get me started on how link used to have dark blue eyes and now they’re highlighter blue

[pumpkinsouppe]

If I didn’t have ten million deadlines I’d be drawing so much brown hair and eye OOT link art rn

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”  

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no… How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can’t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can’t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so… gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

[eetherealgoddess]

TR: ꨄYANDERE HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, & Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦We already know that these mfs have a crazy streak to them. That’s why we love them :) ❦

❣︎A lil gift for my unpredictability. Hopefully I’ll get to some of the pending requests soon. If not, just know that i love youuuu <3

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: Manjiro Sano, publicly known as Mikey, has been your favorite, famous racer since you found him unexpectedly on social media a couple years ago. You’ve never really been into the motorcycle scene until you saw the attractive blonde when swiping through your for you page.

You’ve even gone out of your way to visit him at the different raceways and arenas he’s raced at, cheering him on from afar along with the crowd’s roars. Although your passion for him was strong, you knew that you were nothing but a mere fan out of numerous supporters. An extra in his show.

What you failed to notice is that for the first time he noticed you was during the end of the first race you attended as he slowly paused in front of the crowd who cheered his name. As he observed with a genuine smile, you seemed to have caught his attention. As he eyed you, the energy you radiated as you applauded the short man caused him to envision his deceased older brother, along with the rest of his family who stood beside the visualization of Shinichiro.

During this time, you could’ve sworn you made eye contact before he swiftly turned away, slightly giddy at the smile you might have received.

Unknown to you Mikey’s fixation on you continues to intensify, his behavior towards you becoming incredibly invasive as well as a distant attachment forming to the idea of you. He begins to monitor your every move on social media, watching your every update and interaction with others. As his attraction deepens, he becomes determined to keep you close and under his control, going to great lengths to ensure you remain in his presence.

You were excited when you received a private message of your favorite racer wanting to meet you. You thought it was fake when you first noticed it until you saw the blue check mark and viewed the profile. Despite a slight uneasiness, you proceed with conversation and attend his races. The support becomes more personal as you become closer, his clinginess prominent though you can’t seem to find a care. Who wouldn’t want THE Manjiro Sano to link to them?

Time passes and you begin to realize how fast the relationship between you two is going. Before you know it, he’s basically moved you into his home as he requests your presence almost every single moment of the day. There were times when he even showed up to your job to get you off work so you could hang out. Luckily for you, your manager is a huge fan of the racer, but you were starting to become very uncomfortable with the off - putting behavior.

After more weird actions you made an attempt to distance yourself, only for him to question your loyalty and gaslight you into feeling guilty for trying to leave him, especially when you’re the closest person to him. Regardless, you held your ground, ready to live for yourself and to stop accommodating to the one you used to be a fan of.

“Let me show you how to ride a motorcycle.”

An eyebrow rose as you contemplated his ‘request.’ Shrugging you decided to allow it considering after this session you will continue distancing yourself from the needy man. Taking you to the nearest arena to practice, he showed you the basics and even displayed it on his own bike before handing it off to you.

Feeling nervous and yet the adrenaline boost causing excitement, you began on your own way around the arena, gaining momentum as you pressed the gas pedal, helmet tight on your head.

A few minutes pass when you decide to slow down, though when you hit the brake pedal, it doesn't show any signs of halting. A rush of anxiety and pure fear shoots through your chest as you desperately attempt to slow down. You attempt to scream for Mikey, turning your head to meet his gaze only to catch a quick glimpse of his stoic facial expression.

“Oh my God!”

Realizing the motorcycle was only speeding up to no end, you forcefully push yourself off the bike, landing harshly on the ground as the motorcycle falls off the trail and slams into a nearby wall, pieces flying everywhere. The pain in your body numbs out before engulfing your nerves as you groan before falling into a deep slumber.

Two months have passed since the devastating incident and your whole world has changed. You sit in your wheelchair in your former favorite’s home while he sits in between your paralyzed legs on a small stool. Your fingers trace through his blonde locks to pull half of it into a ponytail. He couldn’t help but sit with a smile, knowing that you’ll be tied to him for a while. At least for your recovery.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling of a grin was long forgotten as your whole reality became sucked into his, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Kazutora: The arcade had always been a place that held fond memories from your childhood. While it was open, you’d visit almost daily after school was released. You remember getting scolded everytime you would skip out on your homework or give minimum effort just to play on the machines and hang out with your friends. You always thought the building would be your preferred spot, even in your adulthood.

It never crossed your mind that one day, the business would shut down, the owners eventually abandoning the nostalgic structure and leaving the walls to rot. You also never thought you’d be sitting with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you lay your head down in an attempt to block your vision from what is playing out in front of you within the walls of the old arcade that used to be your comfort zone.

Unfortunately, your hearing exposed you to the disturbing impact of skin against bloody, torn flesh as fists make contact with the unconscious victim lying on the grimy cement. Your eyelids are shut tight as your hidden expression holds a grimace. Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

You ignore the blood thirsty men who cheer on the violent endeavor. Their voices echo throughout the room, making it harder for you to tune out the situation. You had only heard of Valhalla before you were forced to meet them. Your certified ‘boyfriend’ made sure to show you off once he had a hold of you, almost like a prized possession he claimed. You never even agreed to the title, but you knew not to test the unstable man.

“Kazutora.” Although your voice is muffled, he’d never miss it no matter how quiet you are. Even in a room full of intimidating men. The sound of skin connecting halts as the room goes quiet. Your grip tightens around your limbs as you hear steady footsteps come towards you. Ignoring the whistling and whispers from the males watching the display, the footsteps stop in front of you before a hand gently grips the back of your head. You could feel the moisture of the red substance seeping to your scalp, causing a shiver up your spine. The golden eyed male guides your head up, forcing you to make eye contact as you give him a distressed gaze.

“H-he only greeted me. Stop… please.” You demand, your fingers fidgeting with the tight skin against your legs as you eye him crouching in your line of vision. He gives you a blank stare, the orbs wide with an unreadable expression that causes a prominent discomfort. He removes his hand from your head as he rests his arms against his bent legs.

“You’re taking his side now? That kinda hurts my feelings, Y/n.” His head tilts as he gives a sheepish smile with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his streaked locks.

“I-I’m not!” You shriek, eager to prove him wrong so as to not rile him up more. The poor male lying on the ground got caught in the crossfire of this psychopath’s wrath all because he greeted you. You were tired of others getting hurt in the process of even being near you. He’s an innocent bystander and it isn’t fair.

“Oh, Y/n. How could you be so insensitive to your lover’s concerns?” Hanma, a guy you’ve never liked, adds fuel to the flame as he sits with his legs crossed in a chair, leaning on the palm of his hand with a sly smile. “It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson. I’d give him a few more rounds for good measure. He can take it.” He shrugs with a smug expression.

You glare at him while the rest of the men agree and add their own two cents before facing Kazutora, who only stares back at you with an intense gaze that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t talk to him again. Please just stop the violence.” You notice the blood running down his arms from his hands as it stains his pants. Your eyebrows furrow at the sight and strong smell which only grew as he placed both palms on your cheeks while kneeling. Both of your foreheads connect gently as he breathes your scent in.

“You’re mine, you know that right? You won’t ever betray me like that again?” He questions with his eyes closed. You feel his thumbs caress your skin as the blood smears, nodding your head to answer his questions.

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sanzu: You couldn’t help but feel like someone is playing a cruel psychological prank on you. The nagging feeling of being watched no matter where you go, even in your own home. The glimpses of a shadow figure in the corner of your eye, only for you to turn your head to see nothing. You ignored it at first, continuing your days as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t until a corpse was found in your bathroom, awaiting your arrival to view the disturbing display of a decaying body. You screeched until your throat couldn’t release sound anymore. After calling the police you sat in your living room. Once the authorities reached the scene, there was no sight of any dead body.

A few weeks pass and you just got off from work, ready to shower and throw yourself on your bed. You allowed the heat of the water to relax your muscles as you rubbed along your dermis with the soapy cloth. Once you were finished, you stepped out of the bathroom in your towel before heading to your bedroom.

Once you were dressed, you hopped into bed and switched your lamp off, the moonlight shining through the cracked curtains.

Although your eyelids were closed, you were interrupted from drifting off to sleep when a palm covered your mouth as a weight held you down. Your eyes shoot open, an icy blue glaring down at you through the darkness, as well as pink strands draping over the male’s shoulders. The lump in your throat burns as the tears threaten to fall out of your eyes as you stare in fear at the growing, scarred smile.

You watch as his free hand comes towards his mouth, his index finger pointed upwards and landing against his lips.

“Shh…” He motions for you to stay quiet as he feels the vibration of your whimpers against his skin. The free hand moves behind him before a shiny object is pulled out and pressed against your neck. Your eyes squint as the tears fall down your cheeks, body trembling as you feel the cold surface make contact with your skin.

“Did ya recognize him?” He questioned in amusement, just above a whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you searched your brain for what he could mean.

“Why would you let a scum near my pussy?” You almost jerked back at the chuckling crazy guy. You have no clue who he even is nor who he’s talking about. That is… until it hits you.

The memory of the corpse you found in the bathroom plays out in your head. At the time you weren’t really focused on the identity because of how distraught you were to find the dead body. Now that you remember, the familiarity of the male’s face wasn’t hard to depict. He had been your most recent booty call, a friend of a friend who became your temporary close friend.

How you couldn’t recognize him was because you rarely ever called each other so it was only a couple of times you hooked up. Why the hell did this guy kill him and why is he referring to your vagina as ‘his pussy?’

You take a really good look at the man in front of you to try and figure out his thinking process, when it finally clicked.

That face… those eyes… those scars.

“Haru?!” Your voice is muffled against his hand, the male you happened to meet when he was blonde and masked. The boy you went to middle school with. The quiet boy you sat with at lunch, conversing even when he didn’t respond. The boy you created a close and yet distant friendship with. The boy who slightly broke your heart when he disappeared and was never heard from again. What the hell happened to him? Was he always this psychotic?

He observed you as realization hit, the crazed grin seeming to stretch wider than before. The glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer as he leaned closer to you.

“This time, you’re coming with me.”

[buzziightqueer]

Common Ground (more common than you think)

crack fic

(casey gets jealous at a work dinner, oblivious that the man she's fuming over is gay)

1.1k words

Casey thought they would attend dinner together. Casey thought she and Alex had been dating for well over a month now.

Casey had been pining over the blonde since she started at SVU, months after she finally got the courage to ask her out. She’d be damned if she let some man get in the way of her new and all-encompassing escapade.

The two were deeply involved in conversation, Alex even letting out one of her real laughs which were typically reserved for Casey. The man was short, barely making it to Alex’s shoulder. Alex standing at five-foot-ten meant that many men fell short compared to her. Did she like that? Was it a power thing? Casey was almost directly Alex’s height– just barely hitting five-ten on a good day.

He wore a smart suit with a crisp blue shirt and a striped tie. He looked well-off, the suit tailored to fit him perfectly. His dark black hair combed back, letting a single strand fall forward– he was meticulous.

Casey couldn't stand it; the laughing, the brushing of hands, the whispering and sharing of secrets, it was all too much.

She made her way over, silently seething, but holding it back the best she possibly could. When she got close to them, it made her sick how his cologne and Alex’s perfume mingled in the air. Two rich scents intertwining as one.

Casey tightened the front of her maroon suit before reaching out a hand:

“Casey Novak, ADA working white collar crimes ,” she said, using her full title to, I don't know… intimidate him? Show him that she could be rich and important and smell like vanilla mahogany and a freshly pressed suit too?

He smiled, seemingly unaware of her strained attitude.

“George Huang,” he shook her hand gently. “FBI.”

“George, you’ll scare her. He’s working psychiatry at SVU,” Alex joked, shoving his shoulder gently. “This is a work party, no place to flash your FBI badge.”

George laughed, seemingly used to Alex’s teasing. How long had this been going on?

“I’ll make my rounds,” he said, reaching over to squeeze Alex’s hand. “Save me a spot at the table? Don’t leave me with the psychiatric department, please.” He joked, Alex immediately nodding and agreeing.

“I always do,” she rolled her eyes. “You can hide in the corner spot between me, Olivia, and Warner.”

They shared another brief laugh, Casey facing her body away to fully roll her eyes and rub a hand across her forehead.

When he left to socialize, Casey linked an arm around Alex’s waist.

Alex raised a brow. “In public? You’re not typically one for PDA.”

“I can be,” she objected, kissing her cheek chastely.

Alex briefly leaned into the touch, keeping her posture and persona professional. It wasn't like how she was when they were alone– Alex was colder, her usual ice-queen .

When the food was brought out, Alex indeed did put her suit jacket on the back of a seat to reserve for George. The act was so colloquial, Casey felt sick.

What kind of womanizer is integrated into a group of all women? The ADA, the best SVU detective, the most talented M.E in the city– he damn-near collected them all!

“Why doesn't George sit with some male friends in the psychiatry department?” Casey quipped genuinely, but Alex only laughed it off. She wasn't really joking.

“He says they all need psychiatric care. The men especially– apparently they all have this grand ego. He always sits with us since he practically lives at SVU with how much Cragen trusts his experience.”

Great. So now Alex’s boss also viewed him as some mastermind?

“I just feel like he–”

“Just in time!” George appeared, sliding in and giving Olivia and Melina a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a lifesaver, Lex.”

He reached across to grab a bread starter, Casey could only stare, mouth agape. Lex? No one called her Lex! Casey had never ever heard of the nickname. Alex wasn't short enough for Alexandra he had to drop the A?

Casey knew that she didn't belong in the group– she was younger, worked white collar crimes, she didn't fit into the conversation here. They talked about past cases, Alex almost turned in a way that completely iced her out from the table. Alex’s hand rested on her thigh, but it wasn't enough to ease Casey’s worries.

She got up suddenly, chair scraping across the ground loudly. The group and a few others turned to face her and find the source of the noise.

Casey left for the bathroom, walking quickly and not looking back.

She leaned over the sink. She wished she wasn't she jealous. She wished she fit in better. She just wanted to–

“Case?”

Casey whipped around to see Alex. She relaxed her posture, facing her, but not meeting her eyes.

“Casey, what’s wrong?” Alex said, increasingly worried. She placed a finger under Casey’s chin, asking for eye contact.

“I just… nothing. I don't know. It’s stupid,” Casey said, eyes flitting up.

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset, baby, you’ve been off all night,” Alex combed her hand across the back of Casey’s head, smoothening it.

“It’s… George.”

“George?” Alex’s brow furrowed at the unexpected turn.

“You two have been flirting all night! He’s all over you! “Oh, Alex, thank you soo much for reserving me a seat,” she made an exaggerated kissy noise. “You’re such a talented ADA, and I’m such a great FBI agent, let’s have smart babies!”

Alex let out a choked laugh, covering her mouth. “He’s not an FBI agent.”

“That’s what you heard out of all that?”

“God, Casey, you really don’t know do you?”

Casey squinted at her nonchalant nature. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alex pulled Casey’s sleeve to align her with the door before slowly pulling it open just a crack so she could see the table where the group was sitting.

Huang, Melina, and Olivia all stared appreciatively at the male waiter. Melinda making eyes, Olivia fanning herself, and Huang making a whistling noise.

“He’s… gay?” She sputtered, disbelieving.

“Shh!” Alex said, shutting the door. “It’s no secret, but you’re shouting.”

“Sorry,” she ran a hand through her hair. “You’re serious?”

“Case, darling, your gaydar is horrendous, seriously,” she said, laughing while she scolded the redhead.

“Okay, one minor blunder,” she rolled her eyes.

“You thought I was straight until I practiced eye-fucked you at the hearing.”

Casey blushed a deep red. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Overruled,” Alex muttered, yanking the door open.

When they made their way to the table, Casey sheepishly sat down. The group acknowledged her, Huang, a knowing look in his eyes.

“So..” she started, Huang’s brow raising. “Did you see they put Lady Gaga’s VMA performance back on YouTube?”

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt3 to the Wingman Wayne AU | AO3 link

Eddie knows he was right as soon as he sees Steve: the guy is wearing Levi jeans and a dark-blue polo shirt, and if it wasn't for his tinted chapstick, he would have the appearance of the single most boring straight jock in the universe. He notices how Steve's brown eyes flash up and down Eddie's whole body before fixing back on his face again.

He snorts. 'Told you I'm nothing like my uncle.'

'Yeah, you definitely weren't lying,' Steve comments dryly, and Eddie can't help but laugh.

'You still wanna get that coffee or do you prefer to run the hell away from the freak now that you still can?' he asks while wiggling his eyebrows.

'Hey, you won't hear me complain about a free coffee,' Steve says, already holding the door to the cafe open for Eddie like a gentleman who is taking some perfectly girly girl out on a date.

They get their coffees and sit down at a table next to the window, and Eddie wonders what the hell he should be talking about with this guy he so painfully clearly has nothing in common with.

'So you're into baseball?' he asks – it's basically the only thing he knows about Steve and it seems like a safe enough conversation starter.

Steve nods. 'Yeah, back in high school I used to play basketball and I was on the swimming team, so I never really got to train my baseball skills much, but I really enjoy watching. It's one of those sports that always has you, like, on the edge of your seat, you know?'

Eddie snorts. 'I do not.'

'Not a sports guy?'

'Nope.'

Eddie picks up his coffee cup and blows into the steam, just to give himself something to do; the silence between them feels awkward.

'So what are you into?' Steve asks.

'Um... I'm in a band. Metal.'

Steve nods, a blank look in his eyes – of course he cares just as little about metal as Eddie cares about sports.

'And I play D&D.'

He expects another blank look, or – best case scenario – a confused What's that? which will at least help him keep the conversation going for another few minutes, but to his utter surprise, he sees Steve's brown eyes light up.

'I know that!' It sounds like Steve is even surprising himself with that, which is oddly cute, somehow. 'My brother's like, obsessed with that shit.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, I mean, he isn't actually my brother – he's, like, my ex-girlfriend's little brother's friend, I used to babysit them all the time.' He suddenly stops, as if he's embarrassed by himself. 'I'm sorry, that probably sounded really weird.'

But Eddie grins at him. I like weird, he almost says, but he realizes just in time how that might sound and stops himself.

'Nah, not really,' he says instead. 'It's not like this is an actual date, so you're allowed to talk about your ex-girlfriend as much as you want.'

'I don't –' A blush starts coloring Steve's cheeks as he closes his mouth, then opens it again. 'That's not why I brought her up,' he finally says.

'So are you bisexual?' Eddie asks, suddenly finding himself curious about Steve's story.

Steve shrugs. 'Yeah, I guess,' he says, like he doesn't care much about it. 'I was surprised how your uncle could tell, actually.'

Eddie leans closer towards him. 'It's the lips,' he stage-whispers conspiratorially.

A frown appears between Steve's eyebrows. 'You know, I never really understood that,' he says. 'Why are girls supposed to wear a whole face full of makeup and do I get weird stares because I like to give my lips a subtle glow? What's that all about? Who even made those rules?'

Eddie feels a huge grin spread across his face. Who would've thought that Steve the baseball guy would be so fucking fascinating?

'I dunno, you tell me,' Eddie answers. He glances at Steve's polo. 'By the looks of it, you know much more about that forced conforming shit than I do.'

'You're really lucky with your uncle, you know,' Steve says. 'I could tell he cares about you a lot. It's pretty amazing how supportive he is.'

Suddenly, Eddie is feeling exposed by the intensity of Steve's brown-eyed stare. He averts his gaze and takes the last sip of his coffee.

'Yeah, I know,' he says, quietly. 'He's pretty awesome. But a terrible matchmaker.' He smiles as he looks into Steve's eyes again.

Steve chuckles. 'Totally. Well, I finished my coffee, so we can get outta here and you can go tell your uncle he should never play wingman for you again. Just make sure to also say hi to him from me. And maybe thank him for landing me that free drink.'

'Actually...' Eddie hesitates. 'You're still totally not my type, don't worry about that, but it's actually nice to talk to another queer person, you know? There's not that many of us around here. So if you want to, I could give you another free coffee?'

There's something adorably shy about Steve's smile. 'Yeah, that – that sounds great.'

Pt4

My apologies to everyone being all excited about Eddie instantly falling in love with Steve the moment he saw him, I gotta make them suffer some more first ;P Also, all your comments and tags are making me ridiculously happy, honestly!! I’m kinda overwhelmed by the response, and yes i am going back to read them multiple times bc that’s how lovely they are <333

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[quackarl]

YOU BELONG WITH ME; QUACKITY X READER (STRANGERS TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, SLOW BURN.)

A/N: Hiii! I did not realize how hard it is for me to write about friends to lovers until I was writing this. I think I'm better at established relationship stuff, hahaha. But there was an interesting request in my inbox if I could write a Quackity X Reader piece, where the reader is hired by Quackity to edit his videos and Spanish subtitles and such, and proceeds to fall for him somewhere along the way. So, I did that, with a few twists of my own imagination. Be aware, that this story includes usage of alcohol. And it's painfully slow burn at times, hahaha, but that's the beauty of it sometimes.

I can’t remember a time in my life when I have felt more hopeless. Looking for a job really sucks, actually many things suck and I hate how life seems to pass me by, almost even faster when I feel like running out time, almost as if to tempt me to keep count of all the time I waste. Time flies when your life is falling apart, isn’t that what they say? 

I wish it was few days ago when this started, this desperate job-hunt, but it’s been so long now. I need something, and fast.

I see my phone light up, the only source of light in the dark room. I see it’s already 11 PM, which means I have wasted another night staying up thinking about my future and where do I fit, if anywhere. Great.

Besides that, what captures my attention next is that it’s my friend texting me, and they’re not here to chit-chat about the usual stuff we talk about every night, but telling me they have a perfect plan for me that’s worth a shot. I wonder how that’s possible, at 11 on a Monday night, and how do they know it any better than me what’s right for me? We both know that’s a lie, though, they know things about me before I even know them myself.

I demand to know more about this plan. I’ll try anything, that’s for sure. Anything to get my foot in the door in this world, you know? The next thing they send me is a mysterious link. I click on it and see it taking me to an application form. For what exactly? 

I let out a frustrated puff once I read the first line;

“We are hiring! Apply here for the position of ‘Video Editor’ and ‘Translator’ for Quackity!”

Ridiculous. I already feel defeated, rejected, because how would I have a chance, out of everybody else applying? What makes me special? That’s probably one of the questions on the application and I don’t see myself writing anything worth reading over in it.

I text my friend promptly, my will to fight suddenly vanishing into thin air, telling them exactly what I think of this idea, that it’s far-fetched and I’m not going along with it. Still, curiosity, or whatever, is kind of getting the best of me, I can’t lie, as I eye the open application. 

My friend texts me back, full of persistence;

“And why not? You studied editing and you’re good at it AND you speak Spanish which is what they’re looking for. You’re the whole package?! Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t.” 11:06 PM

Well, I can’t argue on that. It’s my power that I did happen to take editing courses, and Spanish courses too, for reasons I wasn’t sure about back then, but now it could all make sense.

I confess to my friend that I’m actually considering filling out the form, but I feel stuck. I don’t know what I would answer to certain questions such as why should they hire me, or what makes me, well, me. I don’t know.

I mentally hit a dead-end as soon as I got to the question of what makes me unique and stand out from the other candidates. I wrote out my first, honest thoughts, and everything the perfect version of me in the perfect world would think or say, if I only was more brave and less insecure. I wrote, a lot of stuff. If I say so myself, it was a good application in the end, with a little humour.

The scary part was to scroll down the page, hit the blue ‘submit’ button, and watch text appear on the screen;

“Thanks for your application and your interest towards working with us! We will be in contact as soon as possible as the recruitment process will proceed!” 

I think I just jumped out of my skin. I want to cringe at the thought of them reading over my application. Can I just not be me for a second, while I try to get over this?

I text my friend the last thing for the night, before deciding I need to sleep this shame off, and maybe tomorrow it all doesn’t matter, and we move on;

“Guess what? I just sent the application. I hope you’re happy now.” 11:25 PM

I watch their text pop up; 

“I am! You’ll be too when they hire you, trust me!” 11:26 PM

Sure, I think, almost wanting to roll my eyes. I appreciate the enthusiasm my friend has for my future when I don’t have any, but I mean, like I said before, this is an insane attempt. I drift to sleep soon after. A total shocker that I was able to even sleep a wink that night. What have I done and what am I doing to myself? 

.

The more time went by, the more all of this felt like a joke I always knew it was. It’s been a week now since I sent the application, and everything almost feels too normal for anything life-changing to happen anytime soon. 

Well, it wasn’t until I checked my email on a Wednesday morning when things started to feel somewhat real and moving again. I had something there waiting for me. An email regarding my application. I imagined it to be a nicely worded rejection, something along the lines of “We would like to thank you for your interest in us and the position you have applied for. Unfortunately, at this point, you are not being considered for this role, blah blah blah.” 

I suddenly felt like I was in fact not fine at all, when I started reading through it;

“Welcome to our team! We were impressed by your application and would love to proceed further with you! Please reply to this email as soon as possible if you are still available and interested in this position.”

What do I do?! I will reply, tell them I’m still interested, right? That I’m ready for things to proceed. Am I? How, or why, am I the lucky one here? I’m not used to claiming first place, I’m usually just a runner-up. But here begins my winning streak, I guess. 

I type a response with shaky hands, then put my phone down. I don’t think I’m actually ready for things to move any faster than I can take, and it’s already feeling like a lot right now, like I’m biting off more than I can chew. But if they see enough potential in me, it’s all in my head. 

Safe to say that it startled me when not even a few minutes later I received a follow-up email, asking me a few more questions, to which I replied to to the best of my ability. Questions such as am I certain I can commit to such schedule in a long run. It was sinking in for me as I was typing, that this really is a one hell of an opportunity that they are offering me, and I need to be the best. There’s no other option.

The next email they sent, it meant all business;

“We are thrilled to hear you are ready to work with us! Would you be free for a call tomorrow at 8 PM?”

Okay, straight to the point. I tell them I’m free and ready.

Except that I didn’t feel so ready anymore when I received one last email;

“Great! We will have Alex call you tomorrow.”

Yeah, I’m absolutely sweating bullets now. I stayed up much later than I had intended that night, mostly thinking about how fast things are happening now, and if I have started something here I can’t end. I typed his name countless times into the internet to see more of him, but it feels like the more I know, the less capable I am of dreaming of the possibilities of what will happen. So I just went to bed. 

. 

The next day arrived faster than I hoped it would. Can I really do this? Am I ready? So many questions and not enough time to figure out the answers. Quite literally, because I lingered in bed the whole day and hurriedly had to jump into my clothes when I eventually got myself up.

It was 7.50 PM when I sat myself down at my desk, ready to take on whatever was coming. Even if it knocks me down once, I will get up twice. No matter what it takes. It didn’t help my nerves when I kept checking and re-checking the time on my phone. Now I just want to get over with it, so I can finally have some peace of mind and not live in the distress for a minute longer. 

Then it was finally 8 PM, sharp. This is a waiting game, I guess. A matter of minutes. 

When the phone finally rang, it was 10 minutes later. The longest 10 minutes of my life, by the way. I’m surprised I didn’t curl up and die within those 10 minutes, that’s what it felt like. 

I give myself a few second pep-talk, clearing my throat, before picking up as nonchalant as I could, acting like I haven’t been sitting and waiting here shaking like a leaf, thinking about if death was more painless, “hi there!”

I mentally cringe at myself for sounding a little too excited and loud, but Alex didn’t seem to mind as he speaks back to me, “hi! Hello. How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah! Nervous, actually, if you can’t tell yet. You?” I’m already starting to crumble and my voice is wavering as I realise that I’m just… me, and he is he. Even as strangers, he’s way out of my league. He is known, adored, watched by millions of people, I am not. I’m average, boring, some would even say. I don’t blame them. So, remind me how am I, out of everyone, here, in this situation? 

I hear him smile into the phone, “don’t be. I’m good, fuckin’ amazing, to answer your question. And just overall, you know…,” he trails off, before taking a sharp breath, “anyway, I guess I’m just here to sort of do a vibe check. I mean, I can tell you’re cool, so there should be no problems there, but—talk to me, about anything. I would appreciate it, though if it was related to the job, but don’t fret too much, okay?”

I now smile to myself too and at the fact that he, first of all, is here trying his best not to overwhelm me, and that he keeps cussing as if he doesn’t care this is technically a business call. I could loosen up a bit too in my own ways. 

“Well, I—first of all, thanks for doing this. I’m really excited about this opportunity,” I ramble until I realize how I’m getting a bit sidetracked here from the question, thankfully he doesn’t point it out, but instead encourages me to keep going, so I did, this time right on subject. I tell him what I can, about myself and my studies that I worked hard for and that would benefit me in succeeding in this job position. He listens every word, throwing in some comments and pleased sounds, as to approve what he’s hearing.

“Wow, yeah, that’s fuckin’ impressive, you should be proud. Not everyone can do it, you know? Like that’s some tough shit if you want to be any good, so I definitely respect what you got goin’ on.”

Why am I now spiraling? Maybe because I can’t recall the last time someone bothered to compliment me on this so thoroughly, and out of all the people possible, it has to be him. I didn’t expect it to actually rob me of words like this.

“Thanks,” I eventually stutter, “didn’t think I was going to hear that, especially from you. It means a lot.”

“Of course, I’m glad it means a lot. I really mean it.”

This is definitely not the kind of vibe I had prepared myself for. I feel like we are already…. bonding? Just a little bit. I feel it more as we keep talking, and one conversation turns into another and then another. I learn something, that he undeniably has a great sense of humour, very witty and likes to laugh, but can also be serious when needed, talk sense into anybody and be the voice of reason. I think it was at least for a good hour that we just exchanged words and stories, and laughed a lot too, of course. I even come out of my shell and tell him jokes, that makes him laugh in turn. 

Before we could get any more in depth, he mutters through a yawn, “I’m genuinely excited to have you, it’s gonna be so fuckin’ great. So, welcome to the Team Quackity—no one says that, I just made that up, I just lied to you—but, I really think you’re gonna do amazing. I think I’m going to put my little best foot forward and head to bed at a decent time, for once. My feet are not little though, like I’m not a fuckin’ gnome or anything.“

We both laugh. It is getting somewhat late and our brains are getting to the stage of tiredness when everything said is suddenly funny. It’s very reassuring to see this human side of him, that he is so easy to talk to and that maybe I was anxious for nothing, and felt the pressure to appear so interesting for nothing, because he made me feel interesting so effortlessly.

And I guess I’m in now, I got the job, judging by his words, that he is excited to have me around in the future. It’s going to take a while to get used to this. Maybe I ever won’t, so he’ll always keep me on my toes. 

”I’ll see—or talk to you soon, I think,” I tell him. 

He doesn’t bother correcting me or himself, “yeah, I’ll see you soon, very soon probably.”

After that all I heard was rustling from his end and a small noise indicating he was getting tired, so we both know it’s time to wrap things up here. Until next time. It made me want to squirm to know there will be a next time.

I still don’t know how I managed to fall asleep that night with a mind running a thousand miles an hour, but I did, eventually. 

. 

It didn’t take many days at all before I already had something waiting for me in my inbox, some work to do. This is what he must have meant by seeing me very soon.

And so the first day of work and then a whole week of work was over in a blink of an eye, and I found myself busy trying to juggle everything. Doing my best was the best I could do, as I spent my days taking everything in and making this my new normal. Speaking of, it will take a while for any of this to feel normal.

I got to put my rusty Spanish skills to use, I even surprised myself with how easy I suddenly found the language I struggled with at a certain point in my life. I guess all it really takes is finding the right thing.

As to what comes to Alex, I barely hear from him. Mostly because this is strictly business, and when we do talk, it’s about work, and even then he keeps it very short. I understand, he’s busy, I’m not his only priority. The one-on-one talk I got to have with him on the phone that one night, when he was supposed to interview me but we ended up talking about anything else, that was one time and definitely won’t be something that happens frequently. Things have changed since then. There has to be some boundaries set of what is appropriate, because after all, I just work for him and not playing any role of a friend.

So, it’s been very independent, lonely at times, doing this job and I don’t know how or who to talk to about it. New job blues, it must be. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. 

. 

I was startled out of my sleep to my phone obnoxiously ringing. Well, it was obnoxious at first to be woken up like that, until I realised there aren’t many people who would call me this early in the morning. 

I make grabby hands for it, until I find it in the midst of the covers, and to my horror see Alex’s name on the screen. It was still there no matter how many times I tried to blink the sleep out of my eyes, confirming I’m not dreaming. This could be pretty much about anything, which scares me. It’s very unlikely for him to call me anymore just to chit-chat about nothing in particular. There has to be something else.

I hesitantly pick up, “hello?”

“Hi! I just wanted to… you know, check in, ask how’s it going?” he sounds way too happy for there to be to bad news. Whew.

I tell him it’s going good and hear the smile in his voice as he seems to be satisfied with my brief answer, “good, I’m glad. I know it might be a shit show at first, like everything’s new, you feel like you’re alone in it—all of that, but you’re not, okay? Like, I really do appreciate the hell out of you and what you’ve done so far. It’s been really great to see it!”

“Thanks. That’s actually what I needed to hear. It’s been a lot of…. change for me,” I feel like I’m flustered like a fool right now, good thing he can’t see it because I must look crazy. I wish I knew better words to express my gratitude for him right now, because it’s exactly what I wanted to hear, especially after feeling low, but I never thought he’d actually say it. Especially not right now on this specific, beautiful morning when I’m still half asleep and oblivious to the world. 

“I’m sorry if I haven’t really been there to show my appreciation more, but I’m genuinely just so fuckin’ busy, or if I’m not busy I’m sleeping or some shit, because as great as I am, I still do need my little beauty sleeps. But, if there’s anything I can do for you, just—you will let me know, right?”

I don’t know where this is coming from and what is causing him to talk to me in such confidence and care. All I know is that I suddenly don’t feel as alone as I did not too long ago.

“Sure. I’m really glad you told me that. Takes a bit of a weight off my shoulders.”

“Of course,” he emphasizes, “I’m glad we’re on the same page. So, what are you doing right now?”

I’m surprised at his attempt to keep talking to me instead of hurrying to go on with his day, like he usually does. I rack my brain for something sensible, if there’s a right answer to his question, “uh—is this a trick question? Is there something I forgot to do?”

He laughs, “no, no, I swear! So, you’re not up bright and early, not a morning person?” 

“Who is?” I chuckle and fight off a yawn.

He groanes as if stretching himself to prove his point, “fair. So, you’re not doing anything? You’re free to—I don’t know—have a little chat?”

Is there something he hopes to discuss, since he keeps hanging on the line? I don’t know for the life of me what that would or could be, or maybe I’m wrong and mean and paranoid and he is just kind enough to call me and initiate conversation after not hearing from me in a while.

“Yeah, sure. Anything in particular you want to talk about?”

“No. Just anything, like fuckin’… why Spanish? Why did you learnt Spanish in the first place? Why did you chose it?”

Great question. I smile to myself, “sounds like you had something to ask me all along.”

And so we fell into a conversation about it, about me deciding to learn Spanish in the first place, me telling him it was more of decision that I made one night when I was bored and couldn’t sleep and thought it was a such a godsent, brilliant idea. And so I applied for those classes that same night, I think I was half asleep and delirious, and the next morning I had to suck it up and face the consequences of my sleepy actions and attend those damn classes. It was surely tough at first, like everything new is, but eventually, with some hard work, I got the hang of it. 

It was over 30 minutes later, when we finally said goodbyes and hung up and then it was silent again, except for his words now echoing in my head, and how he seemed to be very into learning more about me, like he eats, sleeps and breathes that new information.

Now that I sort of have his permission to rely on him if I need to, I want to make the most of it. I mean, possibly, if I ever need it, but on the flip side, I’m aware I’m not here to make friends or connections. We haven’t really even connected more than as people who work together so far, which I understand. Except for those few longer talks we’ve had on the phone, but I think since he’s so approachable, he probably talks like that with everyone. I don’t feel too special yet.

.

Things slowly made more sense and fell into place as it was that same cycle for the remaining of the week and the weeks after. I spent the days sitting at my desk, working. Time flied, for sure. The only thing that made me feel as if the days were dragging, was that I didn’t hear much from Alex. I actually didn’t hear from him at all, except for when I reached out to him concerning work, but other than that we didn’t really talk. I didn’t want to be the one to reach out to him for a casual chat, because it felt inappropriate, unprofessional even.

I definitely got crashed back to the harsh reality from whatever high I had been on when he used to have the time to talk to me. I understand it, but I did kind of crave some human interaction, some communication. Blame it on me and that I’m a people person and that maybe I find him interesting just a little bit. 

I want to know how he is doing and kind of wanted to have him ask me how was I doing too. Well, I am buried in work, that’s how I’m doing. I sometimes too need something, or someone, to share the burden with. I wonder if I’ll always feel this way.

.

Something blaring disrupts my sleep and wakes me up. Whatever it is, it’s too loud for whatever time it is. It’s not my alarm, I acknowledge, but my ringtone. My phone. I recognize that sound. 

It almost hurt to pry my weary eyes open so fast, but I still experience a deja-vu. This sort of feels all too familiar, doesn’t it? Who’s calling me this early? It’s 9 AM on a... Saturday!? I completely forgot it‘s the weekend. That’s what intense work hours does to a human.

“Hello?” I didn’t even try to conceal the sleep in my voice.

“Well, hello to you too,” my oh-so-dear-friend speaks on the line. Right now I feel like I could tell them off, but to be fair, we haven’t talked in a long while. I just realised how long it’s been since I have heard their voice now that I’m hearing it.

I groan groggily, “hi, hello. Cut the chit-chat and tell me why you woke me up.”

I pull the phone away to check the time again on the screen, if I had read it correctly. Yep, 9.01 AM on a Saturday morning. No one should be awake at this hour, especially not me. 

“I was finally able to sleep in today, you knew this,” I keep whining.

My friend just laughs like this is all a joke, “or you could come and have breakfast with me, just like the old times. I work too, so don’t tired-shame me! I love sleep as much as you do, but it’s not every weekend we can do this anymore. You barely even talk to me these days.”

I sigh again, now out of pity, because as tired as I am, they’re right. We really don’t even talk as much as we used to do when we were not busy with work and well, adulting. Life. Ugh.

“Fine,” I eventually agree to it, “you got me. I’ll see you soon then, I guess.”

My friend squeals, “you really gave in already, this easily? I’ll see you soon!”

I stretch my tired body that feels like it isn’t ready to get up just yet. I need a minute, or two, or ten to wake up and I probably have like 30 minutes to an hour to get ready. Definitely enough, even if I stall in bed for a bit longer. And that’s what I’m planning on doing.

I cry out when my phone rings again not even a few minutes later. There’s no way my friend is on their way already. Or maybe something came up and they are telling me I can go back to sleep. Am I an awful person for wishing that? I had a change of attitude when I saw who was calling me.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Long time no see, or talk,” he speaks. It’s Alex.

Why is he calling me now? I’m suddenly feeling way more awake than I did just seconds ago. Yeah, screw sleep. What does he want?

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, “what’s up?”

“So, something needs to be up for me to call you? I can’t just call you?” he speaks before breaking into laughter, “I’m just fuckin’ around, I’m kidding! Anyway, speaking of that seeing, how—what would you say if I asked if you want to pop a visit to my place? I’d love to see you in person, you know, and I’m in town, I have like no shit to do for once, I’m a free fuckin’ man. If I was you, I’d take advantage of that, but you do you, I guess.”

This is not what I expected in a million years. Even if his house was the only house in this world, I still wouldn’t expect access there. I mean, I’m flattered as hell, but why? I’m sure he has other friends he would rather see—and we’re not even friends, actually.

I guess kindness comes in many forms. He doesn’t really owe me anything, especially letting me to see such a private part of his life like the place he calls home. Just because I’m now a part of his job, an acquaintance perhaps, doesn’t mean he has an obligation to let me see more of him. But, who am I to say no?

I hesitate, before finally uttering a response, “sure—I mean, if you’re sure, then yes. I’d like to, it’s not like I have anything to do.”

Except that I actually do have something to do. The breakfast.

Of course I don’t have the heart to correct myself, not when Alex sounds this excited, “great! So, I’ll be expecting you… let’s say in a few hours? Nothing too crazy. I want to—you know, I usually have a thing that I want to see as many people as I can who I’m working with to kind of, just to see them, makes sense, right? A vibe check, some would say.”

Finally he tells me he’ll text me the address later and there he goes, as the line goes dead and I’m left with my own thoughts. As terrified as I feel, I also do feel a little curious. What’s going to actually happen once I get there? Is this a build-up to something bigger? What will he think of me when I’m not just an ideal voice on the phone, but a real, existing person standing in front of him? 

I call my friend and they immediately pick up, “there’s no way you’re already ready! I’m leaving in a few—”

“No!” I yap, “listen—this is an actual emergency, like Alex just called me and asked me to come over, like he actually wants to see me and I said yes, because I spoke before I could think, so here I am, thinking what the hell I have just done.”

“What? What are you talking about? Like right now? You have to go right now?”

“Like soon-ish, yeah, I mean—should I not? Am I actually going to go?”

“Of course you’re going! In what world would you not go?!”

“So—you’re okay with it?” I ask. I don’t care what anyone’s telling me right now, I still feel stubborn if this is the right thing to do. I mean, there’s a lot at stake here. I could like, say something stupid to him or get all tongue-tied. 

My friend sighs loudly, “I’m saying this as kindly as I can, but shut up. You’re going! I’ll just see you another day! Just tell me how it goes then.”

We talked for a bit more, or more like, my friend talked and I halfheartedly listened. I feel completely unprepared for what is about to happen. Good luck to me. Luckiness is not my strong suit, but it has to be today. 

.

I was finally walking to the bus stop when a drizzling rain started to fall, and it did when I got on and off the bus too. Before I was caught in a storm, I check the address on my phone, and then I’m on my way to my destination.

It was not more than 15 minutes when I had made it, and there it was. In front of me was a really nice apartment building. The dark, cloudy sky made it look even more majestic, as it stood tall and proud. As I walk along the concrete sidewalk, I maneuvered my way to the entrance and right up the few front steps.

I feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t as I make my way inside. Thankfully, I don’t see anyone as I step into the well-lit lobby, because I was definitely a sight to see, a bit damp from the rain and looking around like I don’t know where I am.

My heart is still heavy in my chest and my ears in the elevator. I keep tapping my foot whenever I could keep myself still, which was nearly impossible. But I had some time to think; what do I actually do once I’m there? No idea.

I finally make it to the right door and then it’s now or never. Well, it’s not going to get any easier, so I guess I have to go for it. After I gather the courage to ring the doorbell, I hear the lock turn and see the knob twist, and there he is, in front of me.

He has a really nice, contagious smile that I’ve only seen on screen before, but I never saw just how it reaches his eyes, the dark and captivating eyes that reminds me of nice things in life, framed by his long lashes. He looks relaxed, his face a bit sleepy and his hair covered by a black beanie. 

“Hey!” he smiles wide, looking like he can’t stay put in one place much longer either, “it’s so nice to see you! Come here!”

Before I have the time to say or do anything, he pulls me into a warm, welcoming hug. Definitely a good hugger too. His scent fills the air around me, which has a calming effect. The hug was warm like a sweater and a soft, pleased sigh escaped his lips. 

“Hi,” I mumble against him, “it is. I didn’t know you’re a hug person. Noted.”

Alex just laughs, like it was everyday for him, “thanks for thinking I’m an asshole. What, should I just fuckin’… push you like the asshole I am?”

We laugh off any tension, if there ever was any to begin with. See, he’s really funny like that, which makes me think that maybe there won’t be any rough patches today and we will get along fine. When we pull apart, he takes his body heat away with him, and I feel a little chilly again from the rainfall. He steps aside in the doorway and with an excited grin, invites me in, “come on in!”

I give him a tight-lipped smile as I walk past him, “gladly, thanks.” 

God, I need to stop being so formal and boring, and lighten up a little. My head is still hazy, I can’t remember the reason why I am here in the first place. Was there ever such thing? Guess I’ll find out soon. 

He shows me around inside. What I saw in front of me, was a place that was really simple yet modern, very inviting indeed. Lots of tones of grey and white. There wasn’t any clutter in my sight, everything looked squeaky clean and organized. There was a corner that looked like his streaming set-up, that looked more messy than the rest of his place did.

“So, this is my place slash office, where I do work. Hence the name ‘office’,” he tells as he gestures me to take a look around. I laugh, and he seems satisfied at successfully amusing me, as he moves our attention to the living room.

I agape at how spotless it is wherever I look at. There’s no way he does this himself with a schedule like his, or if he does, it’s impressive.

“I’m a clean-fuckin’-person, okay! As you can see. Honestly, my life hack would be just not to do shit. If you don’t do anything, there won’t be a mess. See, it’s fuckin’ easy.”

We both snicker out loud again and he motions at the tiny kitchen, exclaiming, “this is where I cook! I bust my little ass in this little kitchen every day.”

“You do?” I ask, surprised. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, especially after what he said, so now it sounds kind of awkward, but it’s also kind of funny. I’m just surprised that he seems to be so good at everything. 

He just chuckles, “yeah. I’ll show you someday. Only if you promise to pay attention to the food and not only to my ass, like get your priorities straight first.”

Oh God. Someday? I’m here for the long run? I’m just going to ignore the latter comment. I put my hands up in surrender, “I promise.”

As we laugh again, I wonder how he is truly, effortlessly funny, like a breath of fresh air. I’m sure I haven’t met someone like him before. Now it all clicks why he has such a wide audience from every corner of the world, it’s not hard to find his personality likeable at all. He wears his sense of humor like it’s his lucky charm and it works.

I follow him with my arms tightly tucked on my sides to the living room area, that’s kind of one with the kitchen, like a joint. I must look painfully awkward. 

“And this,” Alex gestures, “is where I kick back and relax. Not too much time for that lately, I’ve been so fuckin’ busy with work.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. I’m glad if I can make your life a little easier in that spectrum.”

He has a nice view of the bustling city from the window too, something I find hard to divert my gaze from, just to find myself staring right into his eyes when I did.

“You do!” he smiles widely, “that’s why I wanted to see you, actually, to kind of know even more about what you’re all about. You wanna sit down for a second? Can I interest you in a drink?” he pulls his best British accent for the question. Oh, so here’s the part when it gets real, him questioning me. 

I agree and again follow his trail to the kitchen and watch as he pulls out a chair for me. He made it seem like it’s such a nonchalant thing to do, but it strangely made my face feel warm. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. I thank him and sit down. 

“So, what would you like to have?” he speaks behind me.

I eye the kitchen, “honestly, whatever’s the easiest for you.”

I hear him hum and then he is gone. I watch as he walks around the kitchen, opening the fridge and the cupboards. I feel a bit creepy just following him with my eyes, so I sneakily pull my phone out of my pocket and see there’s a text from my friend. I should’ve known.

“What’s going on there? I’m dying to know!” 1:01 PM

I kind of did promise them that I would text them as soon as things progressed or happened, which they really haven’t so far. I’m just kind of lost in the moment right now, taking it all in. 

I mentally shake my head and fight a smile, texting them back that I promise and vow to tell everything later, except that not much has happened yet. We haven’t exactly gotten to the point here, whatever it is.

There’s one thing I can’t deny so far and could talk about forever, which is that he’s really fun to be around. He’s one of those people who can immediately light up a room with his energy, which is what he probably does every time he’s with people. I suddenly feel small in his world. Sure, I’m here right now, sitting in his house, and I’m lucky enough to call myself someone who gets to work with him, but still. I’m just one of the many people that gets to watch him shine from the sidelines. 

I put my phone away once I hear him coming back, and watch as he places a drink in front of me, “for you,” and one for himself “and for me,” and sits down opposite me. The drink is lime green. It looks delicious. I tell him that and shiver as I wrap my hand around the cold glass.

He smiles at me with his pearly white teeth on full display, “it’s fuckin’ amazing. I think it’s so cool, like the shit that bartenders do, mix a bit of that, throw a little bit of that in, and this is one of my many creations. I do feel like a bartender whenever I make this.”

I smile and take a sip. It was amazing. “You make this for everyone?”

He seems stunned, “no, no! I mean, I rarely get people over, we’re all just so fuckin’ busy to dilly-dally, and if I do, it’s work related—you’re work related too, I know, but—it’s a day off for the both of us, so fuck it, why not, you know?”

“Yeah,” I take another sip, “well, I’m glad you invited me over.”

He broadly grins at me from behind his glass, “you already told me that.”

I feel myself getting flustered. I’m not really too good with human interactions or words today.

“I’m just kidding,” he gently laughs, “I’m glad you came over, too. Uh—you—how have you liked everything so far? I feel like I know a lot about you already, but you just—you’re a very interesting person.” 

So, this is the kind of stuff he wanted to talk about? And did he just call me interesting? I’m going straight back to feeling nervous. Meanwhile he takes a sip of his drink too and keeps his eyes on me the whole time.

“Me?” I gulp, “I don’t know whether to thank you or tell you that you’re delusional.”

He just snickers again, there was no hint of real hurt or judgment there, “no, no! Like now, you could’ve told me more, something I don’t know, but it’s almost like you got some secrets, like you’re avoiding some shit. Are you? Every time I try to talk to you, you don’t.”

He holds a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and I’m thinking if I should hold back my words here. Have I been holding back that much? I haven’t realised it, if I have. Maybe I’m just scared of being too much and I don’t want to, well, be too much. I don’t know how deep is too deep, especially considering our work situation-ship.

Just when I thought I somewhat know him, he shows me a new side of him. There’s been a lot of people in my life who’s had their eyes on me, but never cared enough to look closely enough to see me the way I am. At least not in the way I feel I deserve, like I do with him. He seems fairly interested in me, which is the highest compliment, I think. 

“I thought you invited me here just to talk business,” I stutter. 

”We’re not working right now, I already told you.”

His face was content as ever as he leaned on the palm of his hand and listened to me talk. And what did we talk about? Everything. All about me. I found it rather easy to open up to him, once I got started. The only time it didn’t feel as easy was when I was reminded how intensively he’s listening and looking at me. I gulp down my drink and relish the sweet taste.

“I think it’s kind of a fair trade if you tell me something about you next,” it’s my turn to grin at him. 

It was enough to make him crack up, “what is this, a fuckin’ truth or dare? Spin the bottle? You want another drink? I could go for another one. Fuck it, let’s do 10 more! This is fun, I’m having a good time.”

He convinces me to have one more with him. I mean, I can’t leave him now, I think it’s just getting good here. We are having fun, is it a bit too much fun? I don’t know, but neither of us seem to care enough to stop it.

I agree, “sure, I’ll have another and dare you to tell me something next, like how did you pick me? Or was it even you? You had your fair share, now it’s my turn.”

I can play this game too and I’m really interested in why he chose me. All this time I thought it was luck, but was it? What else does he see in me? 

He grabs our glasses, going to the kitchen to work his magic again, with his back facing me. It didn’t take him long, but it was long enough time for a silence to fall over us, except for a few clinks from the kitchen, and enough time for me to wonder about what has happened to far today.

He is so chill, unlike me on the inside. He didn’t make a big deal of us meeting, which is fine. I mean, I do work for him, this is all business, so I don’t know what else I would expect to happen. But I am taken aback he is willing to share so much with me and that it doesn’t seem to phase him much. He is letting me read him like an open book. 

He was way too soon back with our second batch of drinks, “so, you want to know why you’re here?”

I nod coyly. 

He beams and leans back on his seat, resting his arm behind him and fiddling with his glass with the other hand, “I mean, you know everything I need you to know and you’re good at it. You know a lot, you’re very smart and you work hard. I saw your application. And I know you’re very funny, too. You were funny as fuck on the phone when we first talked.”

Oh no. Yeah, that was my tired brain talking back then.

He interrupts me, “no, I think you’re funny as fuck. You should do that more often. Why are you holding back?”

“I don’t know,” I don’t know what I’m actually going to say to this one, “I’m not used to mixing my humour with work, I guess, but glad it works for you.”

“It does, like you don’t need to hold back around me. Be yourself, you know? Like, fuck it. I say stupid shit too, but you don’t think any less of me, do you?”

“No, I dont,” I confess. I’m happy he told me that. He’s giving me the freedom to be me, which I never realised is the greatest thing someone could give you. 

After both of our glasses were empty and we had gone over the stupidest jokes and stories that matter, I think it was time for me to get out. We really had found ourselves talking about everything, from our tastes in music to plans for the future. 

I tell him, “I should go soon, but this was fun! We should do this again—probably not! But if we ever happen to… I don’t know.“ Damn it. I know very well we shouldn’t and probably won’t ‘hang out’ like this again. Stupid me, not knowing when to stop. I’m such embarrassment-prone.

To my luck, he shakes his head, “no, I’d like that! You have a phone, I have a phone, you know, let’s make shit happen. Easy.”

I dodged a bullet right there. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to think that us meeting up again would be unprofessional or weird and I didn’t make matters worse.

We get up and I let him lead me to the door. I’m about to step out, but not before turning to see him standing there with his arms spread out for me. A little warmth rushes into my cheeks as we mold together and share a hug for the second time today and he gives my back a soothing rub. 

“Have a safe trip home,” he speaks lowly in my ear.

I watch him return the small smile through the little crack, until the door shuts close with a soft click. I walk back to the elevator, and once I’m certain I really am alone, I pull out my phone and text my friend. I didn’t even realise what I was typing as I was typing it. 

There’s one thing in my mind I need to air out, because the longer it stays there, the more it becomes a secret. And I don’t want to keep secrets from my friend right now, secrets that are confusing me as much as it will confuse them;

“Oh my God. Since when has he become so attractive?” 3:05 PM

.

It didn’t take long at all for my friend to reply, like they had been waiting by the phone, but certainly not for a message like that. For the first time ever, I was honestly scared to see what they have to say this time. I don’t blame them though, I myself even feel a little scared of what I’m feeling right now.

“What?! What did you guys even do? You know this sounds very suspicious?” 3:06 PM

Trust me, I know it’s stupid, but it’s the way he actually cared to listen to me, and, I don’t know, appreciate me like no one has before. I’m afraid no one will understand what I mean, they would have to meet him and be in my place to understand. He is somehow irresistible in every way, the way he talks, the way he listens, both just as important qualities. 

I guess there is no use in explaining myself, but I still text my friend back, trying to find the right words;

“Nothing like you’re imagining, we just talked! But he said some nice things to me, like he finds me interesting, like he’s just a very nice person and he has an attractive personality. I don’t know if that’s a thing but if not then I just invented it.” 3:09 PM 

I know if there’s someone who sees right through me, it’s my friend and I will probably be called out any second now. Just to be clear, I would not mess with him nor this job opportunity. I’m not like that, I just appreciate a good personality, I guess. And I mean, I’m not saying his looks are bad either... but, no.

My friend replies,

“I believe you, but this sounds like so much more. And I’m quoting you now, ‘attractive’?!” 3:11 PM

I wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut, because I don’t think I will ever hear the end of this. I end up finding my way back home safe and sound, which was actually a miracle, considering that I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going or which bus I hopped on, because there was just one thing on my mind. I don’t like Alex like that, but I’m also running out of ways to defend my case. It’s too soon to even think about these things. 

I went to bed early, deciding to catch up on some tv-shows, because I didn’t exactly know what else to do with myself. And sure, I was also texting my friend, telling them it’s not like that and if we can now drop it and move on. I feel too stupid and embarrassed to think about it any longer. So I just got ready for bed and started up a tv-show re-run. Of course I couldn’t pay much attention when I had my friend blowing up my phone and my brain screaming the same stuff at me. This secret can never get out. 

.

The next day, as I woke up, the first thing on my mind was whatever it was that had taken over me yesterday, but other than that it was all the same. I so wanted to text Alex, thank him for having me over. I suddenly felt so very bored of my own life, as I realised that wasn’t going be something we do often, if ever again.

I spent the whole day in bed, just killing time and relaxing, not like I had anything else to do. I could call up my friend, but I honestly still feel a bit embarrassed to talk anything over with them yet. I would rather solve it myself. My feelings, my problem, right?

.

A few weeks have passed. I haven’t talked much with Alex. It’s the same as usual, we have fallen back to the normal ritual, where the only interaction we ever have is strictly work-related talk. 

I, myself have also finally fallen back into my calm state of mind and so has my friend. Everything feels the same it’s always been. Obviously, my friend hasn’t completely let me live it down, but I can live with it. We still occasionally talk about it, or more like, they ask me if I’m okay, because apparently, I sounded so passionate about my feelings and it’s not healthy to brush them off. 

It wasn’t until a few more weeks had passed by swiftly, when I heard from Alex again, on another Saturday evening. My phone was going off, with his name on the screen.

“Hey. Sorry if this was sudden, or whatever,” he quietly speaks to me when I pick up.

“It’s fine,” I assure, “I actually have been waiting to hear from you.”

Was that too much? I feel like that’s one thing that would have been better if it only existed in my head. I was relieved to hear him find the humour in it though.

“Yeah?” I heard him chuckle on the phone, “you’ve been waiting for me like I’m fuckin’ Santa or some shit?”

I laugh too and played along with his usual banter, “oh, yeah. Now, do you have something for me?”

He actually sighs and gets serious, “I have like, bad news and then there’s like, amazing news.”

Oh no. How bad are we talking about? Is it about me? Just when I thought things would go back to normal, whatever normal is. I make a noise to urge him to keep going.

He sighs again, “okay. I’m… going to have to move and leave that fuckin’ amazing apartment behind, that you just saw a few weeks ago. Like, what the fuck? I get it, like life comes at you fast, but like, fuck.”

“What?” I ask him, sounding too disappointed for my own liking, “you have to? Like, this is it? You’re getting evicted or something?” 

He finally laughs lowly, “okay, fuck you. I’m just kidding! No, actually—I got this offer, hear me out, this is a big ass spoiler, but I’m getting a huge sponsorship, which means that the amount of content I have to do for them, and with them, of course, is just so much that it would be necessary for me to live there. At least for now.” 

He keeps on rambling about this opportunity and genuinely sounds like he couldn’t be more excited, meanwhile I don’t make a peep.

“And I figured to tell you now, because I know you’ll be cool about it. I’ll still have work for you to do, so technically this doesn’t change anything for you, but, I mean, fuck it, why wouldn’t I do it?! It’s time for me to spread my little wings and go out there in the big world,” he keeps going while I still remain silent.

“Oh, wow, not what I expected to hear, but that’s awesome. So, where’s the bad news?” I finally say to him, when I don’t hear his voice anymore, trying my best to conceal the lack of excitement in mine. 

“I know right! Those aren’t even bad news, ‘cause like, what the fuck? It’s going to be amazing. I figured I should let you know, ‘cause when you see me filming from somewhere else, just so you know I haven’t been kidnapped, I’m not streaming from someone’s basement. No one’s forcing me to make content.”

Well, that got a genuine giggle out of me. I want to show my support more, but I feel a bit sad about this. I don’t know why. Why do I find it so hard to be happy for him right now? 

I understand that this is really something he wants to do, something that’s bringing him lost motivation back, so what else would I tell him other than ‘yes, it’s a good idea’? Even though it means he’ll be far away in another state, God knows exactly how far, but I can’t be selfish and act all hurt when this doesn’t even affect me. But, how long will he be gone for?

“So, when will I see you again? Not anytime soon, I assume?” Now I’m asking the real questions here.

“I know... yeah, probably not. Shit just happens so fast, isn’t that crazy?”

At least he’s honest. I don’t know and neither does he. There’s my answer. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little upset. I guess we have—I don’t even know how much more—time left, and then everything will change, or not, like he assured, but I think it will all change for us. Maybe not in all the worst ways, but how often does change not hurt at first? It always does. 

.

That bitter feeling didn’t die, no matter how many days I tried to drown it for. There’s still a tiny string in me holding onto the hope that he’s not leaving. I know it’s selfish, I hate it too. I hate how I’m doing this to myself. I’m especially having one of those days today, when I feel like doing nothing, but I have to get work done. It’s just hard not to think about him when my work centers around him, like I really can’t get away. 

I just never thought we would run out of time. Isn’t it cruel how we only appreciate time when there’s not much of it left?

I decide to wrap up work early today. I had sat on my desk the whole morning, staring at the screen and realising that words don’t make sense to me, I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing, like this stupid editing program suddenly feels like a stranger. If I’m going to do a crap job, I might as well just not do anything. The deadline isn’t until tomorrow. 

My mind is more occupied with things with a shorter deadline, other things I have to solve before I can immerse myself in anything else that requires complete focus, like the strange feeling I got after hearing him break the news. It shouldn’t matter to me, so why does it feel like it does?

I shut down the computer after saving the little work I got done. I need to look after myself, do the things I used to do and enjoyed doing before all this happened and he came and rocked my world and hopefully I’ll get over it, and myself.

Just out of pure curiosity, I want to know how things are going for him. I’m not trying to get my feelings hurt, but it’s only been a few days, nothing too major hasn’t happened yet, right? The buzzing of my phone jerkes me back to reality. It’s Alex!

“Hi!” I balance my phone on my shoulder, as I finished patting my face dry after a very refreshing shower I just had.

I can hear him clear his throat and speak, “hello. I just woke up, I know it’s like, what, 1PM? Holy shit. Anyway, uh… what are you up to?”

I wonder what is the reason for this call, but I’m not going to ask. I’ll happily take as much of his time as he can give me, before he gets busy with moving and his new life.

“Nothing,” I reply truthfully, “I mean—I’ve had kind of a slow day today. I just—I’ll get back to work later, right now I’m just trying to unwind myself, I guess.”

“Oh,” he replies, “something on your mind?” Oh, you have no idea.

I try to laugh it off, hoping he won’t try to dig any deeper, “honestly, the usual. You know, life.”

To my relief, he just laughs in response, “yeah, me, if anyone, would know about that. Like, fuck—tell me about it! I don’t know at this point if I’m fighting demons, or if I’m the demon.”

We both laugh and it’s so nice even for a few seconds to just laugh with him, and I hate even more what is about to happen to us. 

“Yeah, like I don’t know who prayed for my downfall, but it’s working for them.”

He yawns, “see, you get it! I knew you would.” Except that I don’t…

“Anyway—you’re probably wondering, how am I doing, so considerate of you. Being all worried and shit. I am after all just a baby. But I’m doing great! Uh—I’ll be busy as fuck soon, so...,” he trails off. 

I hum. I know what he means by that, that he won’t have much time for me anymore. “Yeah, I understand,” I tell him, trying not to sound too sad nor too happy. Just neutral, like how I wish I could actually feel about it. 

“Yeah, so, it’s a big fuckin’ step, but I still think it’s a step that needs to be taken, content-wise, because, after all I just want to keep getting better and bigger. I mean, there is no such thing as too big. That’s what I tell myself every time I—okay, I’m gonna stop myself right there.”

He laughs at himself and I stand stunned for a while, until the joke hits me and I laugh too. And… it made me feel flustered. He is just something else. That’s why I like him. As a friend!

“What was I saying? I don’t know, but yeah, it’s happening and I’m excited. So many fuckin’ great things happening. I hope the same goes for you.”

I hum again, since I don’t trust my voice right now, “thanks. I hope so too. I’m really excited for you. Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.” Just one lie after another. 

“I’ll try not to. I think I should be the one saying that. You don’t miss me too much.”

“Wait, who are you again?”

“Okay, fuck you. Bye.”

We both break into laughter again over the ridiculous banter and hang up. Seems like things are going, and will go, well for him.

I put on a very lazy outfit, since I had no plans to go anywhere today.I had too much time on my hands, so I started overthinking again, and for the rest of the day, it was one thought after another. I wish I could see him one last time, why didn’t he ask to? I mean, I know why. Because we’re not close like that. It was a one time thing, won’t happen again. He probably said that he wants to see me again just to avoid disappointing me and hurting my feelings. They will be hurt either way. 

I wonder what Alex is doing right now, 7PM on a Wednesday night. A text pops up on my phone as I'm scrolling online… from him?!

“Hey! I have some spare time tomorrow, you wanna come over? I kinda owe it to you, but I wouldn’t mind you seeing you either. It’s a fucking mess here but I’m sorry I can’t pack neatly.” 7:01 PM

What on Earth? It seems like for some reason we are in each other’s subconsciousness. I asked for this, but now I feel weird that this is happening. I’m getting what I want and I don’t think I will want it again. I reply;

“Sure! Thought you’d never ask.” 7:03 PM

I slept better that night. Who knows why.

.

The next morning I was up before the sun, bright and early. It wasn’t until the afternoon when I had promised to be at Alex’s place, but I couldn’t sleep and lay still anymore. I’m itching for something to happen, something that involves him and getting to see him, possibly for the last time in a long time.

Then later in the day, it was me going downtown again in the same bus, walking over to the same building. The same elevator ride upstairs. The same long hallway. The same door that already looks like coming home. I shouldn’t get so attached anymore. No more crazy thoughts. 

This time I didn’t even wait around, but rang the doorbell as I pulled my earbuds out. Ironically, there’s nothing but petty, angry love songs on the radio today where someone’s leaving and someone gets hurt. I feel like I have nothing to be scared or nervous about right now. If anything, my feelings should be scared of me, because I’m not going to feel anything. Whatever I felt the last time I was here, I’m over it. 

I heard him turning the lock and there he was, opening the door, all smiles. He looks happy. This time, though, I don’t think I’m alone the reason for it. He doesn’t surprisingly look as disheveled or tired as I imagined, either. In fact, he looks like he has been personally touched by an angel. He is, well, glowing, you could say. Every piece of him.

“Hi!” he ushers me inside, not wasting any time.

I march right inside, “you’re happy to leave.”

He rubs his hands together, “c’mon! I’m having the fuckin’ time of my life! Like—I’ve had good news, c’mon on! Cut me some slack!” He’s so excited to go. Wow. 

If I was him, I would feel more bittersweet, perhaps, but people like him just don’t seem to be having a hard time saying goodbye. Maybe people like him aren’t even supposed to stay too long in one place, like the world needs him as much as I do. Good for him, but sucks for me. He then went off, leaving me by myself, like I’m already one with the house and know my way perfectly around.

I followed him to the kitchen, where it was boxes upon boxes. The living room didn’t look any different. The house looks swept, from what I can see so far. His setup is the only thing that looks somewhat the same, but I can tell there’s things missing, already been put away.

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding, like, this is really happening,” I say, mostly to myself.

This place looks weird and dead now that it’s almost empty, like it’s empty of life too. 

“Yeah! What, are you gonna miss me and shit?” he asks me, amused by the thought, “no sad, happy!”

Then he quite literally places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a comforting rub, before taking off again. I don’t know if it made me feel better or worse.

“I—“

“So,—“

We start at the same time, following by us both saying ’sorry’ in sync. Awkward. But hey, that got us to laugh again. Oh, how I just like laughing with him. I think it’s one of my favourite sounds. God forbid, if he could read my thoughts right now.

“I was just going to ask if I ever get to see you cooking in that kitchen, like you promised?” Way to change the subject. 

Alex gasps with his mouth agape, “no fuckin’ way! How the fuck are you one step ahead of me? I made some of it last night, wondered if you wanna have a bite with me? I mean, of course, you fuckin´ do, right?!”

He starts clapping excitedly, before I could say anything. But the answer is going to be yes, nonetheless. A perfect way to waste some time with him.

In the kitchen, I already knew my seat. It’s the same one I sat on the last time I was here. It felt like personally addressed. I reach for the chair at the same time as he turns to pull it out for me as an act of chivalry. It caused us to knock into each other. Not hard enough to cause an accident, but hard enough to make us both feel embarrassed.

We laugh again, more awkward this time. That was probably the worst fake laugh I’ve ever had to do with him. I sit down and watch as he turns his back to me and takes something out of the fridge.

“This,” he announces, “is my secret recipe, fuckin’ incredible, guacamole.” He brings it to the table and goes back to kitchen to fetch us something to enjoy it with, until sitting down with me. He tells me to dig in, while sitting back and taking off his beanie and running his fingers through his hair. God knows why it made my breath hitch.

When I finally make the move to dig in like he told me to, it’s unlucky he made the same choice at the same time. Our hands touch lightly, before we both quietly apologize and pull them apart like they just had been burned. 

“Relax, it’s all yours,” I tease him.

“Fuck you,” he giggles, a smile creeping in, like he’s glad I broke the tension.

The food was honestly pretty good. I hum in enjoyment, “this is good, you were right.”

He laughs, “I told you. Get used to me being right, if you haven’t yet, it’s about time. I mean, I was right about you, too.”

Is he doing this again, getting all mysterious and sentimental about me? And he does it whenever there’s no escape for me from the conversation, too. I wonder what’s really weighing on his heart. 

I ask him instead, “okay, what does that mean? You always do this.”

“Well, if it wasn’t for my mastermind, you wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have something here that made me thought about staying, but, you know, it’s not like I’m leaving for good.”

I was on his mind as something that’s worth staying for? There’s not much left he can give me anymore, we’re running low on things to say or do when there’s so little time left, but he never wanted to leave without telling me that. It’s the one last high, before we flatline. 

“You really think so? That I’m that special? I’m sure whatever you will find next is going to be worth it, though. I’ll be fine.” I can only keep lying to myself for so long. I’ll be a mess.

Alex straightens himself in his seat, like he’s about to say something crucial, “you’re so fuckin’ special, like I don’t know who hurt you so that you always have to question it. Like this is not the first time we’ve had this conversation.”

He’s right. But what he doesn’t know is that it’s him leaving that hurts me. Maybe I’m just insecure, because I know I’m always replaceable. But maybe he doesn’t think so. 

He slyly continues, “whatever it is, whoever they are… they don’t matter now. Don’t think about them, just think about us—or me, you know I would never judge you for how you feel. And I even told you already that you mean a lot to me, so what are you scared of anymore?”

“I—,“ I really don’t know what to say, “I don’t mean to make this about myself, but… I guess I was just excited to spend more time with you and now you won’t be here. And I know it, that I was a chapter in your life, but you have a whole book to write. So I don’t know how much space there is anymore to write about me.”

I know better than get attached to people like him. They have the whole world to impress, I’m just one person.

“Damn, that was some deep shit. I was not fuckin’ ready for that by any means, but fine. Fuck it, let’s take the deep road,” he babbles in his usual way, “it’s not like the next time I see you will be awkward anyway, because, you know… I won’t fuckin’ see you. I’ll be long gone.”

I pretend to gasp at the joke and play along, even though the truth behind it hurts.

“But I agree, it’s been great, but, you know, I’m just a call away. And I always, always have time for you, like I’ve already fuckin’ saved you a seat in my mind, so I never forget to keep you in my thoughts. See? That was pretty good, I can get deep in shit too,” he grins almost child-likely and nudges me as he gets up and goes on his merry way to the kitchen, cleaning up the table. 

He seems like he’ll be fine enough, so I feel dumb to push it anymore. I just nod, even against my own will and avert my gaze. Maybe I should stop acting so ungrateful, I still get to keep my job and it’ll almost like force him to talk to me once in a while. It’s not the end of my world. Maybe.

We talk more, this time with me trying to act reasonable. He seems to like and laugh at everything I say. I try my best too to keep a smile on my face and tell him, “I’m sure it’ll be fine and we both make it. I’ll be here rooting for you, king.”

“Thank you so much, thank you. It really means a lot coming from you. I’m glad you seem to feel better.”

Yeah. Surely, I’ll be fine… I’ll fake it if I can’t make it. As he’s cleaning up, he tells me I can feel at home and get some water from the fridge if I want to. Well, I eventually figured I should make myself useful and walked up to the fridge in unbreakable strides. 

He seemed to be finished with the dishes and stepped to his right where I was, and our bodies had another collision, I think this being the worst one yet. Like we’re used to it already and know the route out of the awkwardness, we just laugh it off. I don’t understand what the universe is trying to tell me to do right now, because it seems like every move I decide for myself to make is wrong. 

And there comes that weird tension again. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to try something here. I would never. But he seems more than fine, and definitely not like he’s internally cursing my name, as he is casually standing there next to me, making these ridiculous expressions and sounds in result of a brain freeze, since the water was pretty much ice cold. It made us both laugh and smile like nothing had happened.

What do we do now? Is this it? I thought as I soon announce that I should leave, before anything else can happen. I make quick work on putting my jacket on and tying my shoelaces, reaching for the door just as he does, and there I find myself bumping right into his side again. 

I suddenly feel the urgent need for the floor to swallow me whole, but since that’s not happening, running out the door seems very tempting. I can’t handle another one of these accidents. I’m so embarrassed. Not the kind of ending I imagined for our story, but I guess it’s better than drowning in tears. Maybe I have a chance in surviving losing him, if this is how I feel.

“Sorry for whatever that was,” I apologize again, God knows for how manyth time today.

He just timidly laughs, not as loudly and lively as he usually does, but it was still a laugh, “it’s okay, you know, it takes two to… fuck up, something like that, right?”

I laugh too now, “that’s true.”

Now we are just standing in the doorway, thinking who’s going to be the first to say goodbye. And I didn’t find it in me to just run out and leave without it. To my luck, he breaks the moment of silence, “so, uh…. I wanna tell you that I’ll see you soon, but I’m actually not sure when I’ll be able to do that. So—I know you understand, right?”

I do. I understand what is happening. It’s almost like it’s finally sinking in that this is it. I don’t know what the future holds. Will I see him again? 

“I don’t want to make any promises, but… I’ll see you at last whenever I’m back, whenever that will be. I’ll talk to you about the new work schedule too, when it’s more topical,” he rants. Yep, at least I get to keep my job. 

I just nod sympathetically, “I understand. Good luck with everything, honestly. I’ll see you someday and in the meantime, we can always talk on the phone.” I feel the need to still remind him that just because he’s not here, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting to hear from him every day. 

“Of course,” he smiles genuinely, so wide that it reaches his eyes, which makes me want to take his word for it.

He then pulls me into a lingering hug, which surprised us both, how there was no hesitation this time to be so close to each other. Sure, my time with him has been short-lived, but it has meant something. Every second mattered and in a matter of seconds time will be irrelevant. Oh, how life goes.

He pats my back, which felt both like a curse and a blessing. It felt too nice to not happen again in a long, long time. Why couldn’t I feel this way when there was still time? 

When he next stares at me from under his long lashes with an unreadable expression on his face, like he’s trying hard to memorize something, I make the move to leave before I fall any deeper into the despair.

It takes a second for him to realise it and to follow me, and now he leans against the doorway, as if he needs something else to cling on to now that I’m out of his reach.

“Go on then, little superstar,” I giggle, “I won’t forget you. Which would be impossible, anyway.”

He starts grinning again, and before he can get too ahead of things and himself, I roll my eyes, “I’m trying to be nice here.”

He gets serious and gives me a more gloomy look before turning it into a smile to almost prevent any emotions spilling, “I know, I know, sorry. Me neither. Trust me.” Trust. That’s what I need, to trust him and let the rest roll off my shoulders.

Soon after we say the final farewells and I watch and hear the door click close for the last time and he is out of my sight for also possibly the last time, at least for a long while. Call me selfish, or a bad person, all of it, but there’s no way he’s actually leaving. I don’t want him to. There’s no way after all that sunshine, it’s now raining this hard. When it rains, it really pours.

Quite literally, indeed, because when I stepped out of the building, it was raining. Ironic. I put my hood on and made my way quickly to the bus stop, staring at the black screen of my phone like any second now he’s going to tell me something, something along the lines of like he has changed his mind. I wiped the raindrops off the screen, they reminded me of teardrops. For some strange reason, I don’t feel like crying at all.

I was already cursing the bus, the bus route, the bus stop. Everything here is going to remind me of him. I can never come back here, unless it’s with him. There’s no way I’m in this deep already, but I am. And there’s no bottom or no one to hold me up this time, I’ll just keep sinking. 

.

The next morning, and the next one, and the next one my immediate thought was Alex, not to anyone’s surprise. The thought of his existence didn’t get me so high as it used to do, since he will now exist so far from me. Just when everything started falling into place. I had already let myself forget the day he’s leaving. Was it yesterday or today, or tomorrow? Or maybe it’s better if I don’t know and will let him leave quietly. So quietly, that the sound of it doesn’t make me flinch. 

I figure I can’t just lay down here in my bed the entirety of my existence or Alex being gone, I have to get back to work and back to, well, what life was like before there was him. But what was my life like without him? I’m not sure I can recall it. 

I realise I could do anything I ever want, but I’m stuck here and there’s a void in me that looks like him. I feel like I’m supposed to just sit on my hands, what else would I do? Later that night I throw myself on the bed again, ready to waste time scrolling through my phone, maybe watch some TV.

I open Twitter and wait as it loads new content for me to see. So, what do I do on Twitter? I do follow Alex, and I see that he hasn’t posted anything new. I also do follow people I find interesting, a few friends, people who have the same music taste and interests as me. I haven’t caught up with the timeline since last night.

The further I scroll, the more I see concerning headlines of news. What the hell is this?

“Another COVID-19 lockdown possible, says experts.”

What’s going on? It says just a few states have been put on high alert, the one I’m in is not included, at least for now. We still get to go about our lives here. I feel my heart sink, thinking about going back to square one. I don’t think we as society can take another one of those. I see it before my very eyes how the news are spreading like wildfire. Everyone is talking about it. It’s all I see and I think it’s all I will see even in my sleep tonight. 

I read until the words didn’t make any sense to me anymore, they were just words of confirming what we all fear. They just made me sick. As the night fell on me, I know I wasn’t the only one in the world who laid wide awake that night. What’s going to happen?

So much for summer plans and so much for possibly visiting Alex or him visiting me. Shit. I just realised what this means for us. It’s the state where he went that’s one of the few mentioned to be prepared to shut down. If only he had never left. 

.

I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s now been more than a few days since I had last seen and heard from Alex, too long when he’s all I think about. I want to know more, ask him how he is. I’m also a little worried, like how he had joked I would be, but now I really am. The world is suddenly not ours to take anymore, so I guess I have a valid reason to be. I text him;

“How is everything?” 1:24 PM

A completely harmless, friendly question. It doesn’t give away too much and he can write me back whenever he finds the time to. 

Instead of doing so, he almost right away was calling me. Even a bigger bargain: I get to hear his voice again!

I picked up the phone expecting him to be in a frantic, excited hassle, but he was calm, it was almost too quiet on his end for someone who’s doing as much as he is. Actually, he didn’t seem to be in a rush at all and definitely didn’t sound as excited as he had the other day. I can only assume he’s tired, that’s the only logic that makes some sense.

“Hey,” wow, he does sound worn-out.

“Hey. I bet you’re tired, so you didn’t have to call me. I just wanted to know that… how are things in wherever you are?”

“No, of course I want to talk,” he assures, “I’m—something happened. I’m sure you’ve seen the news. It’s fuckin’ crazy out there.”

It hits me again. The news that feels like the end of the world all over again. I feel for him. Is he now possibly stuck in another state for longer than he anticipates? 

I sigh, “yeah. I was hoping it won’t mess with you too much?”

“I’m just as fuckin’ caught off guard as you, but… I really can’t go. It’s too bad out there where I was supposed to go to that I can’t go, I can’t risk it. And I don’t want to seem like an ignorant asshole and just take off.”

“What?” I stutter, “I mean, it makes sense, but you mean—where are you right now?”

He lets out a little sad laugh, “I’m still here, in this great apartment of mine, in the middle of all these boxes and all of my shit is packed up, all of it. And now I’m not even going. Think about it.”

He is still here? He never even left? Or more like, he didn’t have the time to leave? He continues before I could get a word in, “I mean, fuck it, I still might as well fuckin’ move to the next block in the spite of having to pack and unpack everything.” 

That made us laugh amidst all of the chaos. I feel bad for him, but it’s a funny thought. But, back to the real topic, he is not leaving after all? What is this universe up to? Did I manifest this unfortunate and unexpected turn of events? I’m starting to feel like I did.

“So, stupid question, I know, but how are you? You never got to leave? I thought for sure you were already gone,” I ask, “sorry, this must be so shitty, I can’t even imagine, and you probably don’t want to answer my stupid questions right now.”

“No, no! I do want to talk, more than ever. I was supposed to leave the day after I last saw you and then all of this kind of happened overnight. I don’t know—I’m just thinking about all the things and shit I don’t get to do now.”

He was so excited just for everything to be called off right before the kick off. I pity him. I’m not exactly sure how to comfort him in times like this, how to say the right things. What even are the right things to say? I know I wanted him to stay, but I never wanted it to happen like this, in a way that drains him of all of his contagious joy.

We talked a long while. Or more like, I let him talk and didn’t wait for my turn to talk. I listened with curiosity and empathy, for as long as he needed. I didn’t fill in the silences, just listened. The last thing he says to me on the phone before we hang up, comes as a total surprise, “hey—you wanna come over?”

. 

And so it went, there I was again taking the same bus downtown to him. I never saw this coming. This looks like a film everyone would love to act in, where the one never gets away, but this is real life. I don’t know how to direct it yet, but I will keep looking for the answers for why this is happening and why he keeps always coming back to me, sometimes even against his own will.

Of course I said yes, when he asked me to come over. 

By the time I rode the elevator, I was fuzzy in the head. This was not supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to come here again, not after we said those goodbyes not even a week ago.

I walked up to his door, and as by some instinct, he opened it before I could even knock. I did a double take, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean, it’s him, but... he looks great. Happier, for some reason, even when there’s not much to be happy about, or so I thought. I wonder who made him like that. Whoever it is, consider them lucky. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so serene and beautiful like he does in this light. 

“Hi!” he lets me in, “alright, let’s just forget about the fuckin’ dramatic goodbyes that we had and pretend none of that shit happened.”

He then giggles at his own recollections, so did I. How many times you get this lucky when there is no bye in goodbye? I also still don’t know what is keeping the smile on his face right now. If there is sadness in there, he’s not showing it.

“Yeah, this is pretty fucked. Not to make things about me, but I thought I would like never see you again. Like you’re gonna start a whole new life without me.”

He shakes his head, “not this time. And I mean—I still wanna keep you, I’m not just gonna fuckin’ let you go, no matter what happens. You’re stuck with me, pal.”

“Yeah, literally. You couldn’t get too far even if you tried.” I wonder if he will ever make it out of here. Right now, everything feels impossible. None of us will get out anytime soon.

“Yeah, see?” he grins.

I see some of the boxes in his house are still up, some of them opened and unloaded, as if something necessary has been taken out of them. He follows my gaze and laughs nervously, “yeah, I know, it’s a fuckin’ mess here. And—it’s just that all of these news are fuckin’ with my head, you know? You feel it too?”

I nod. It’s not bad at all where we are, but what if it gets bad here? The only rule is that we can’t exit the state, but that’s already enough to mess up people’s plans. Like his. It’s all ruined for him.

We talk about these arising fears as he guides us to the kitchen and motions me to take a seat. I smile at his thoughtfulness and sit down. He sits across from me, bringing some snacks on the table.

As I secretly watch him there in the brief silence that occurs when we chew on the snacks, I feel the same old familiar excitement to see him and to be here with him. Like I want to fight all the odds that prevents keeping me right here forever. He makes me feel excited about life, especially when we have more promised time now. That’s the closest my words will get to the feeling I can’t explain.

And, he looks... great. Brand new. Attractive, even some would say. Not me, of course… I clear my throat, hoping he’s not catching on to me, “so, you called me here, because… you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I just needed to know that… I still have you. Like no matter what shit goes wrong, I’ll always have you here. Especially now, when being alone is the last thing I want. I can’t even see my friends from other states or from home, in case shit gets worse, but you’re always here, right?” he rambles.

I’m still too a bit freaked out that I now have him here, right here where I wanted him all along, I suddenly don’t seem to know or remember what I always wanted to tell him. I think he just beat me to it. I think we really need each other, especially at times like this when loneliness is almost bound to happen.

“Yeah, of course. As selfish as this sounds… I’m glad you’re still here. I don’t think I was ready to say goodbye just yet,” I didn’t know what else to say to his emotional outburst other than answering with the same concerns. If honesty is what he wants and needs to hear, then so be it. 

“I knew it. I knew you’re happy I never left”, he tries to suppress his usual grin and raises a brow challengingly at me, “you need me.”

I roll my eyes, “what? That’s all you decided to take from that?”

We both laugh at the banter, like we always used to do. I’m glad we are able to pick up right where we left off. It’s like nothing ever happened. Even though I think we are getting a little sidetracked here. 

He adjusts himself in the chair and leans back, crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating, “what can I say? I have a selective hearing, you tell me you need me and I’m fuckin’ all ears, just like that.”

“I—okay. I didn’t say I need you, I’m just happy you’re still here. I know, it’s probably weird for me to say this—“

At this point I felt like I was squirming in my seat under his gaze. Why is he doing this, almost obsessed with the idea of me needing him?

“Hey, no. I’m sorry if I went too far joking about it and making you feel like it’s weird. It’s not. I feel very… fuckin’ happy you think so highly of me.”

We talk more, and I learn that the news of the possible COVID-19 outbreak, even if it’s not happening here, has really messed with him and I understand a little better why he is being like this. No one wants to feel isolated and alone and he seems to be holding onto me now more than ever. I understand him, but it will change us. For worse or for better, nobody knows.

“Anything else before I go?”

“Actually, yeah. I have a few friends pop over in a few days. You should come too,” he tells me like it’s nothing and like he has already made up my mind for me.

“Oh?” I ask with genuine surprise, “are you sure? Do you really thinks it’s a good idea for me to meet them?”

“Of course! I think it’d be fuckin’ awesome! They’ve been in the city for a few days now, they’re not coming from another state, so it’s all good, all safe.“

“Okay.”

He grins happily, “great!”

What am I getting myself into here? I need to think things through when I get home. He walks me to the door not soon after that. I thought to open the door and walk myself out, but he had the same thought to open it for me, causing us to collide with each other again. This is such a deja vu, but I didn’t remember how awkward it exactly is.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’ll stop being a gentleman right at this fuckin’ second,” he laughs. I laugh too, because as awkward as it is, he makes it funny.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now, before you jump at me again,” I finally make the move to leave. 

“Uh—excuse me!” he yells after me, “it takes two! It takes two, pal!”

I keep backing away until I’m so far from him, that we pretty much have to yell to make ourselves heard in this hallway, before waving him goodbye. I made some quick strides to the elevator, it was waiting for me on the same floor as if to rescue me. What is he doing to me and why is it working? And why do I kind of like it?

.

So, how do I actually feel about Alex inviting me over with his friends there? The thought of it seemed to excite him greatly, but I, on the other hand, am not sure if I can reciprocate his feelings. I do like hanging out with him doing nothing, but when you throw other people in the mix, will it just blow up in our faces? Am I just ruining things to make myself miserable at this point?

I so want to text my friend at times like this, even though I’m highly aware they would force me to go and socialize, but I figure this is something I just have to decide myself and for myself. Some would say this is out of my comfort zone, but what else would I find comfort in if not being around him? How bad could it be there?

My phone makes a sound. There’s really only one person who would have a reason to text me right now. It’s time to make up my mind, I guess.

I was right, it was Alex, 

“Sooo you coming tonight? I hope?” 4:35 PM

Fortunately for him, I don’t think I have it in me to tell him no. Not when he sounds like this, like he needs me. Like it’s up to me to make or break his night. It’s a lot of pressure to be this important to someone like him.

For now, I reply,

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” 4:39 PM

It’s as if he knows me inside out again and that I’m still questioning my choice, because he doesn’t leave it there, but says,

“Awesome, I was already thinking you’d bail on me.” 4:40 PM

That’s awkward. 

“Never.” 4:40 PM

Guess I’m going. 

.

I popped by a liquor store on my way to his before I hopped on the bus. I’m not usually the one to drink, especially on the first meeting, but I think I need some liquid courage, because I will decay before I can meet those new people if I think about it too hard. Have I already made it obvious that I’m a nervous wreck? It’s already an accident scene in my mind. When I finally arrive at his door, I could already hear the voices of many that I’m not familiar with. It’s still not too late to back out, but I won’t. I didn’t come this far just to come this far.

I knock on the door, and then it opens, revealing Alex behind it, smiling at me radiantly as ever. The smile that I think makes this all worth it. 

He seems to be already having fun with his friends, so it’s still unclear to me why he wanted me here to shuffle the pack. I put on a happy face and my best foot forward, greeting him with the same enthusiasm. Faking it until I make it.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” he was grinning, like he was proud to have lured me here.

“Of course! Always up for a challenge.”

“Hey, everyone’s gonna like you, as much as I do. You don’t ever have to worry about that,” he pouts. 

I wonder what caused him to say that. What is suddenly so likeable about me and how can he sound so sure of everything?

I step in the living room and see three other people that are still strangers to me. So that’s not too bad, I can tackle three. And perhaps Alex was right, if he invited me here it must mean there’s something he sees in me that everyone else will too. It was when I found my seat that they started talking and then it was my job to keep up.

“Hi! I’m Karl!” a brunette opposite me spoke and gave me a little wave. 

“Punz,” the person next to him raised his hand as a greeting and popped snacks into his mouth.

“Oh! I’m Foolish!” the last person speaks and laughs lightly.

I wonder what happens next and how much they already know, or more like, what has Alex told them about me. Well, I was nevertheless about to tell them something that I hoped to be interesting enough, but got cut off by Punz as he waves me off and gestures to bottles on the table, “oh, we know who you are. Here, have one—oh, you brought your own drinks, nice.”

Oh, now I really am curious what have they heard from Alex. If it’s anything like what he told me at the door, I have a lot of expectations to meet. I’m totally cool about it, as cool as the drink I crack open and take a sip of. Bless them for initiating small talk while we wait for something to happen, since we are still the guests here.

Speaking of Alex, where the hell did he go? I haven’t seen him ever since he let me in and told me I don’t have to worry about a thing. Well, now I am worrying a bit, am I the only one who feels bothered by his absence? 

“Yo, where the hell did he go?” Karl asks everyone at the table.

So, it seems I’m not.

We all look around ourselves but he was nowhere to be seen. As if he planned this all along, leaving me alone with his friends so we have no other choice but to gather around and talk to each other. It would have happened even without his shenanigans, so I don’t understand why this was necessary, if that is the case.

We couldn’t help, but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Karl hid his smile with his sleeves and slapped the armrest, “he really said hi and bye. Can you believe him?”

He shakes his head disapprovingly. Punz seems fixated on the snacks he is still eating, good for him. Foolish was laughing too, like this was the main entertainment. I feel anything but entertained, I forgot to expect the unexpected whenever I am with Alex. You never know with him. I just sat there and drank my drink.

“So, what do you guys wanna do? Since it’s just us,” Foolish asks and wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, balancing the neck of a bottle on his fingertips.

I don’t want them to change their plans for me or to stop doing what they were doing before I got here, but obviously, true to my nature, I don’t dare to tell them that. My head is playing tricks on me, making me think there’s still a reason to keep my guard up and shy away.

Karl looks like he’s going to say something, like a brilliant idea washed over him, but then just asks me, “you two seem like you’re pretty close. Are you?” 

My jaw slacks open in surprise. I assume he’s talking about me and Alex. What do I even say to that? 

“Yeah, I think so—“

“Really? What do you like about him?” Karl bombards me with more questions, “ahem, as friends, of course.”

What is this about? What are my answers being used for? 

I’m confused, but answer, “uh—everything?”

I don’t really know what to say and I acknowledge that Alex could come back any second and I don’t exactly want to be caught talking like this. 

Karl tucks his lips into a tight-lipped smile, “well, if that ain’t the cutest thing. I asked him the same thing and he told me pretty much the same about you. Do whatever you want with that information.”

It’s now my turn to ask him, “really?”

He said that?

Karl just smiles again and yells out to Alex, wherever he is, “in case you forgot, you still have guests over and we would like to do something here, with or without you!”

Okay, so that conversation is over and I’m left drawing the conclusions and connecting the dots myself. It looks like a messy map of undecided feelings and missing truths. Did he really mean it, and if, why?

We all dissolve into laughter when Alex finally comes out of hiding and yells, “okay, asshole! Some of us has to look good tonight.”

Not too much had changed about him that would explain why he was gone for so long. Well, he had changed his outfit and from what I can tell, maybe fluffed his hair a bit, but I don’t see why that is necessary. He can do whatever he wants in his house, I guess. Not that I mind what he looks like, I myself am very casual and so are the other guests.

“So,” he claps his hands together and sits down next to me, not taking his eyes off me, “you okay?” 

I nod. He has no reason to worry about me so much, but I appreciate his heartfelt care. It’s a two-way street, I acknowledge I would do the same. It causes a grin to break out on his face, “great! So, should we play something? Jackbox?”

We did that. I was sitting there on the couch, with my legs pulled up to my chest, curling away, watching the game play on, downing my drink. 

Somewhere along the night, he was resting his arm on the back of my seat. I didn’t think much of it, until I felt his fingers toy with my hair. Does he even realise he’s doing it? I let it go and let him do his thing. It’s new for the both of us, a touch that’s so gentle and light as a feather it’s almost make-believe, but it feels nice and real. It’s making me want to stay here longer.

The game went on, we didn’t get through a round without laughter and genuine fun. I don’t know what happened to me about halfway through the night, I drank like never before. It occurred to me that it’s a receipt for disaster, but I’m way past thinking straight anymore. We just had a bit too much fun, or I did. Like I said, I never take things this far, but the rules slipped my mind tonight.

Foolish stretches with a strained cry and we all contagiously yawn as we wrap up the game for the night.

Alex mumbles next to me, “did you guys know there’s a fuckin’ fancy pool downstairs? I think it’s closed now and probably has restrictions and shit anyway—”

“Why tell us about it then?” Punz asks.

Karl was giggling again, “and who asked? We get it, you’re rich and we can’t go there—”

“No!” Alex defended his case, “I just—that would’ve been cool.”

It would’ve. I’d like to see the pool. Maybe someday. 

Karl hums, “hm, did you want to look at the stars with me and kiss me under the moonlight?”

We all laugh again and watch Alex throw a cushion at him.

Everyone soon scattered around the house to take bathroom breaks and such. As I attempt to hoist myself up, I definitely feel more drunk than I had intended to be tonight. I give up and sit back and hug my knees again, hoping this will pass. Alex gets up too to clean up the empty bottles on the table and floor. I’m scared I’m going to make a mess that won’t be so easy to clean up. 

I’m mentally cursing everything and myself, mostly myself for crossing the line, and how awkward it is sitting here alone. I want to get up and make things better, but before I know what is happening, I find myself falling to the ground. There’s no way to really say how I feel other than that I feel like I’m on a merry-go-round that doesn’t stop for anyone. It’s making my stomach churn and head spin. Everything is spinning, until I crash and hit the ground, or whatever I fell onto.

I’m listening but don’t hear anything, thinking it’s the alcohol messing with my head, until I realise there’s no sound. It’s a pin-drop silence. We’re almost frozen in time, right in this moment.

Alex finally fills the silence and speaks to me, holding onto me, “are you okay? Should I—tell me what can I do for you?”

Did he…. catch me? I mean, he must have, because I’m not shattered on the floor right now, but instead it was a very delicate fall. It didn’t even feel like falling, but the proof that I did is right there when I open my eyes that brings me a distorted vision of the floor.

“It’s probably just the alcohol, you know. We should get them water,” I hear someone else speak for me.

I then hear sounds from the kitchen, until it’s silent again, anticipating. 

“Here,” Alex advised me, “drink this.”

I felt a glass tilted against my lips and gulped down some water, and prayed this will all pass. This is such a nightmare, and I don’t even know who’s the villain here. I didn’t even drink that much, or did I?

Alex shakes me a little to get my focus, “do you feel sick? Just nod or shake your head.”

He kneels by my side and lays a warm hand on my shoulder, rocking me a little. That’s one thing I’m painfully aware of right now, how close we are. I hesitate to let him get any closer to me, in case this turns into an awkward memory. I mean, it’s already embarrassing enough as it is, I just don’t need him to touch me in ways he will later regret. 

He seems to notice my upset state and lifts my head to rest on his knees for a little comfort and holds me a little closer. This way, I can feel his every move, almost even every breath he takes. It oddly helps me, trying to synchronise our breathing, reminding myself that I can live through this.

I shake my head weakly, too weak to speak. Thankfully, he understands. I can see it in his terror-stricken eyes. Is he scared for? 

“So, that’s a no. Would it be okay to move you onto the couch?”

I nod, giving him the green light. I’m still here, pathetically lying on the floor like a wounded animal and no one knows what’s the right thing to do.

Alex nods back at me, “okay. Is this a stupid question if I ask if you can stand up? Even just for a few s—”

“Oh my God,” Punz groans, “yeah, no offence at all, but that’s a stupid question. I mean, look at them.”

Yeah, look at me... I know there’s no judgment there behind his words, it sounds almost pitiful, the way he talks about me. He sounds like someone who wants the best for me. 

“Okay,” Alex panics, “sorry. Is it—do you want me to carry you?”

Like he’s asking permission from me before daring to move me or touch me in a new way. I’m not in a good headspace to think, but that was kind of adorable of him. I nod, before I feel overtaken by nausea again. I can feel it in my guts, literally. 

I can make out Alex again hovering somewhere over me as he witnesses the colour draining from my face and my eyes drooping, like there’s something I’m trying to fight against. He seems to get the hint when I gesture him that I don’t feel good and then there’s four voices again frantically talking over each other about what to do with me.

“Are you—okay, okay. Should we go to the bathroom?!” Alex’s freaking out. Poor him.

Meanwhile I think I officially have the worst taste in making decisions. I’m in last place in learning lessons. This should have never happened. It doesn’t matter anymore, but I know better. 

“Yes!” Punz steps in, “take them!”

Those are the last words I can hear before I feel like silently I’m blacking out and spiralling into darkness.

. 

The next time I gain some sort of consciousness is when someone is talking and gently caressing me. I’m on the floor again, and that floor is cold, which feels nice on my hot skin. I don’t know where I am now, or who is with me, but my head is too heavy to ask myself those questions. I want to lay here for a second and just catch my breath, before I catch myself triggering another wave of nausea.

I feel someone leave my side for a minute, before they come back and drape something warm over me, as I lie still, too sick to utter a word. And so there were no further words spoken, until they squeeze me tight and whisper, “are you okay? Please, for the love of fuckin’ everything, tell me you’re okay.”

Assuming they are talking to me, I nod. I’m getting there, I’m going to be fine. I think.

“Oh, thank God,” they whisper back, keeping their voice low, “tell me if you need anything and I’ll deal with it.”

I really need my bed. No more words are needed when they say everything with their touch, rubbing their fingers comfortingly against my skin where they are holding my arm. I take a sharp breath as I feel my stomach twist and turn again very unpleasantly and pray they don’t hear it, but they do.

“It’s okay,” they murmur quietly again, “is it okay that I’m here with you?”

I nod again. 

I lost all track of time and place as I laid there in the silence. The silence seemed to be fulfilling enough for the person with me too, like keeping me company was the main reason they are here. By the way, I have no idea how long me and they have been here, wherever we are, but they never rush me. It never happens, no matter how many minutes of this night we are wasting.

Then it comes to the point of intoxication when I feel very swept up in emotions, like I had burned like a birthday candle that burns for joy, but now I’m burning out. I don’t even flinch when tears prickle my eyes and I start sniffling, as dramatic as it is. I really try to contain it, but my body doesn’t listen and wants to stir the pot and make me more of a mess. So I have no fight in me.

The person next to me doesn’t seem to mind as they lean down to fully capture me, their body radiating warmth against mine and hands urgently pressing wherever they could and stroking my back. Still no words said, but letting the actions speak. I know it’s not the right time or place for this, but when’s the last time someone has held me like this or would love this version of me? They keep me there tightly in place, tucked against their chest, giving my frame a few easing squeezes to tell me to take my time. 

When they pull away, I whine in the loss of comfort they once brought. 

“One more hug?” they ask me. As soon as I nod, we are back to cuddling there on the floor. It must not be so comfortable for them, but they put up with it, for me.

I’m startled to the core when I hear a door opening to the room we’re in, and a voice, “the car’s here. Ready whenever you are.”

That sounds a lot like one of Alex’s friends I met tonight.

The someone who’s still lying by my side tells them, “okay, great. Uh—we’ll be right out, okay?”

That sounds a lot like Alex. 

Wait, so I’m still at Alex’s place, in his bathroom, and everyone is still here? I’m embarrassed. Cheers to the night I wish to forget. The only memory I wish to revisit tomorrow is Alex and his tendency to closely watch over me. He did more than what was enough and showed me something about him I haven’t seen before. I like the new highs he took me to, but I’m not going to like the come-down tomorrow.

I jolt somewhat awake when I’m being helped to stand up and then walked downstairs and put in the awaiting car. This ride is not going to be nice with an upset stomach like mine. I don’t have to worry about that for too long though, when I close my eyes and then I’m out like lights.

.

I wake up to sunlight peaking through the window, shining on my face. I don’t know anything, but I do know that I feel like hell, at least emotionally. My mouth is dry as ever and my body feels icky. It’s uncomfortable to a point, that I wish I could step out of my current skin and put on a clean, nice one that doesn’t hurt. I’m happy to make the observation that I’m in my bed and that I made it home last night, or, well, I must have made the absolute walk of shame home last night.

I don’t know how long I have laid here like the dead, it doesn’t feel that long at all since I was sick at Alex’s. Speaking of him, how will I ever speak to him again without wanting to die of embarrassment? I didn’t have much time to think about it, when my thoughts were diverted to something else; I’m wearing more clothes than I did when I left. I’m talking about the soft hoodie I still have draped over me, Alex’s hoodie that he lent me for comfort. Awkward. It’s so bad I wonder if it will ever get good again.

I’m scared to check my phone, I really don’t want to know or see anything right now that would make me feel worse, but I still check it. The time on the screen tells me that it’s 11:45 AM and that my friend had texted me not so long ago;

“Come to my place today! We’re having a partyyyy. I know you love those ;)” 11:34 AM

Right, it’s Saturday, of course they are having one. When it comes to this party and my invitation, I can’t even look at alcohol right now, not after the night I had. It’s the last thing I need to expose myself to and it’s almost inevitable.

No text from Alex, nothing. A part of me wishes to see him, to apologize and give back his hoodie, but I don’t know what he thinks of me anymore. I know it would be better to make the big step forward and own up to it, but I was so out of line last night that I’m honestly terrified to talk to him right now. He probably resents me. I do too, it’s almost inspiring. I might be weak and unstable, but at least I’m trying. He and what we have, it means too much to let it fall apart.

I went back to bed and texted my friend back, telling them about last night. Not all of it, but enough for them to know I feel vulnerable and psychically I’m not doing much better.

While I lay there in the silence I created, I let the memories from last night creep back, or the ones I can remember. The tender touches from him, the whispers that were all for me. The hold he had of me, like I was the only thing he wanted to touch. I have forgotten to miss his touch already when there’s still a mess I have yet to clean up and this time he won’t help me. He hadn’t signed up for taking care of me, but he still did and followed through like it was a contract. God, how will I ever make it up to him? 

So, tonight’s party. I think I feel fine enough to go as long as I stay away from the drinks, stay there for an hour or two just to say hello to my friend, and then come straight back home and continue rotting in bed. It’s settled then.

I take a long, refreshing shower which soothes some part of me, but I still have this shame that doesn’t come off in the wash. That’s not how life works, unfortunately.

As I’m picking out an outfit, my phone pings to notify me of a text from Alex. Shit. I’m terrified to see what he has to say, but I know I have to take on my biggest enemy right now; the consequences of my actions. I don’t want to leave him hanging right now, so I read it immediately. 

“Are you okay???” 1:34 PM

That’s all his text says.

Well, I have this shame in me that’s eating me alive, but other than that, I feel okay, I guess. This is why I sometimes hate texting, not being able to read people. I can’t tell if he’s mad or worried, or somewhere in between, and I don’t know how I deserve to be perceived right now.

“I’m okay, but so embarrassed I’m not even sure I can talk right now, but I know we need to.” 1:36 PM

He must’ve been waiting to hear from me, because it didn’t take him long to respond;

“No, it’s fine. Seriously don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re okay. It was an honour to take care of you ;)” 1:36 PM

Why would he say that? I can’t remember what I have done and am not sure if I want to know. And when it comes to him reassuring me this is fine, I want to tell him it’s not and that he has every right to be frustrated, but I don’t exactly want to go against what he is saying to me and argue. How will I win if I don’t want to fight?

“Stop, this is so embarrassing. Can’t wait to never be invited again.” 1:37 PM

I fairly wouldn’t be shocked if last night was my last night at his place. His lack of irritation and ability to brush things off has so far been surprising. I wonder if he really is okay and what is he doing today. Is he thinking about me, us, and what to do with me? He is not going to fire me over this, is he?

He replied shortly;

“Can’t wait to invite you again ;) What are you doing today?” 1:39 PM

Just like that, he read my mind. 

“I’m actually going to a friend’s place, there’s a party BUT I am NOT drinking! Just wanna say hi and then bounce. Believe me, alcohol is the last thing I want right now. What are you doing?” 1:41 PM

I feel stupid now that I said it out loud, that I’m attending another party after last night. He must think I’m insane, if he already doesn’t. 

My phone pings again to alert another text from him;

“Oh nice, don’t drink, I’m not there to save you ;) Doing nothing.” 1:44 PM

I’m just going to ignore those winky faces he keeps sending me and how they make me feel. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more weird between us, they do. I type;

“This is as embarrassing for me as it gets, but I still have your hoodie. Tell me when to return it!” 1:46 PM

“Oh, it’s no problem. Think you need it more than me ;)” 1:47 PM

He is acting like he’s the one out of his mind right now. Did we both get up on the wrong side of the world this morning and fell into some alternate universe where nothing feels real or makes sense? 

I don’t know what came over me next when I typed before I could think;

“You wanna come with me to the party? I think we really need to talk.” 1:50 PM

I was terrified to check my phone when it had been a few minutes, and even more when I saw no reply from him. Why did I have to go and do that? Haven’t I been enough trouble for him already? I really need to think more and do less. Or, even better, I could have at least waited until Monday, when he’s going to text me anyway about work and the schedule for the week. It’s really not easy being me right now when I can’t stop screwing up and upsetting people, it seems like.

Next time I checked, he actually had replied;

“Needy smh, but what wouldn’t I do to see you ;) Tell me where and when.” 2:01 PM

He just said yes, as in I will see him very, very soon? This was an unexpected turn of events and I don’t know if we are heading for a dead-end here. I haven’t been this scared in a long time. This is what I wanted, but I think I underestimated myself.

I also made sure to text my friend and keep them in the loop, telling them I will be bringing him with me. I’m only doing this because I will not let him settle for anything less than a proper sorry. But sorry is just a word and not so simple, so what he decides to do with my apology, it’s up to him.

.

I got to the party before Alex did, which was lucky, because it meant I could have some time with my friend before he arrives. I know it’s not all fun and games when he gets here since we still need to talk about… well, last night and I’m not sure what kind of a conversation that will be. It if  doesn’t kill me, it probably will make me wish it had. Will we work or hurt?

I soon spot my friend in the crowded living room that had been turned into a dance floor for the night. The reek of alcohol and the sight of it is enough to make my stomach turn. I’m never drinking again. I push myself through the crowd and tap my friend on the shoulder. They turn around, their eyes lighting up as they see me there.

“Do you want—right, you’re not drinking tonight!” they yell over the music.

I shook my head, “no way. I’ll be just hanging in the kitchen probably, you know, serving you drunks.”

“That’s fine! And hey! What were you last night then?!”

“An idiot.”

They shoot me a sympathetic look and nod again, changing the subject like the good friend they are. We catch up some more, before I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know it before even checking that it’s Alex texting me, telling me he’s finally here.

“I’m going to find him now!”

My friend just dramatically grins and sends me on my way, “hurry up! Don’t let him get away!”

I make my way back outside, and once I get there I inhale the fresh air that doesn’t stink of alcohol, which washes off all that nausea. My gaze immediately fall on Alex as he stands there cooly, with his hands in his pockets. He really came here for me, or at least that’s what I want to think, but I’m afraid he’s not here to see me just to see me, but for something else.

I forget for a second that I’m supposed to feel ashamed when his face holds a mysterious grin that makes it hard to believe there has even been anything troubling him, “hi! Good to see you standing, literally.”

Okay, so maybe there’s a chance he will try forgiving me and maybe forget.

I gladly accept his hug, letting him pull me to his chest, feelinghisthumb softly rubbing my back as he holds me in place, “shut up, but I am too, but shut up.”

He laughs lightly, music to my ears, “you’re a fuckin champ, though, because—how the fuck are you even standing after that? I thought I was going to have to carry you to the hospital.”

Ashamed isn’t actually even the word for how I feel, it’s deep regret for what I put him through. If there’s any part of him that is mad at me, he is suppressing it very well, so well that I’m not sure he is letting me see it. 

“I don’t know, but even thinking of alcohol makes me sick right now, so I think I’ll be hanging in the kitchen, playing the bartender.”

Alex grins at me widely again, his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, before he admits, “it’s a shame, truly, that our time together was so limited. We didn’t even get to the good part.”

“Which was?”

“I don’t know, like we could’ve snuck to the pool. That would’ve been fuckin’ sick—sorry, I do apologize for my choice of words right there,” he shrugs, emphasising the word ‘sick’.

“Shut up or I’ll be sick on you the next time, whatever, goodbye,” I turn on my heel and walk inside, pretending to be annoyed and it didn’t take long that I heard him on my tail, following me inside.

“Next time?” he asks behind me, tickling my sides, “there will be a next time?”

I don’t need to look at him to know his eyebrows are quirked and that he’s wearing that stupid smirk again. It’s truly his favourite accessory whenever he’s around me, especially today when he has something new to tease me about. My head is hanging down as I’m trying to hide the smile creeping across my face from everyone passing by. They would never understand, when I can hardly understand how he makes me feel.

I kind of did take on a role of the bartender in the kitchen. You know, serving everyone who swings by whatever drinks they are looking for. Alex grabbed a seat and came to sit right by me, like I’m the only interesting thing here, or in the whole wide world.

“Sorry I forgot to bring your hoodie,” I blurt out. Better to get on with these apologies, there’s a long list to go.

It was his turn to roll his eyes, those eyes that held such care for me last night, “listen, that’s—it’s yours now. If you’re gonna give it back to me, I’m just gonna give it to you, you know that?”

Because friends totally keep each other’s clothes, right?

It’s like he could tell there was a lot on my mind as if he wanted to do something about it, “listen. Stop apologising or thinking you did something wrong last night and shit. I mean, I didn’t think either that you would find yourself in my arms, literally, but shit happens. Just let it go.”

“You know I was only there in your arms, because I quite literally passed out?”

“Yeah, sure,” he just grinned at me, like he wanted to believe that’s the real truth, “you seemed more awake when we… hugged and shit. Cuddled, even. It’s all good, I liked it too.”

I groan and cover my ears. So embarrassing.

I serve a few drinks to people, not exchanging a word or even a look with anyone else other than Alex. He is what matters.

“Wait, you have Snapchat? You should add me,” he leans back in his seat like he’s here for the long haul, already pulling out his phone.

“Ugh, really? You’re one of those guys?” I hate that stuff, I don’t really see the appeal and I don’t know if it would make any difference to what we do now, but for him, sure, I guess?

“Hey!” he straightens up looking up at me, extending his hand for my phone, “it’s a great fuckin’ app, okay? You just boom, boom, pow, and everyone knows what you’re doing.”

I give it to him without further complaints, expect for, “I don’t need everyone to know what I’m doing.”

“No, no. Just me,” he smiles smugly, softly brushing his hand against mine. I don’t know he meant to do it, but if not, then he’s real damn good at pretending and these happy accidents. 

While I was handing out drinks, he is doing God knows what on my phone. There’s not a single word exchanged when he seems to look interested in whatever he’s finding there and I’m not bothered to intervene, just enjoying his company in all its forms, until he talks again, “yo, what the fuck is this? This don’t even look like you.”

He flashes my Bitmoji on the screen, just enough for me to get a glimpse of it. Yeah, I know, I really don’t care about that stuff or if it looks like me. I have never felt bothered to change it or customize it, so sue me.

“Oh, really?” I challenge him.

“Yeah, I could make that amazing, like—you’ll see. You’ve never looked better.”

Before he could get any more heated over this dumb debate, I agree and let him work his magic on my phone again. Meanwhile I try to steal glances at him of sitting with his head low, leaning on his knees. He’s so chill it almost gives me chills. I can’t believe we made it through what happened last night, or did we?

I let him mess with my phone while dealing with more drunk people looking for more drinks. I gave them what they wanted. Ugh, they’re gonna feel like hell tomorrow. After last night, I can’t look at drunk people the same way, sorry.

“There,” he slams the phone back on my hand.

I raise it up to my eyes, “what the hell?”

He had made me look absolutely ridiculous and freaky. This, if anything, does not look like me. Well, as long as he has fun.

“Thanks for making sure no one will ever talk to me again,” I tuck my phone deep in my pocket.

“They shouldn’t, you’re right. I think I should be the only one,” he lays his eyes on me again, raising his eyebrows challengingly and crossing his arms across his chest.

For an hour, he sat there with me, like the time had stopped for us and there was no hurry to be anywhere else. I understood a little bit better why many feel drawn to Alex, and how it’s his commentary on things that is rather entertaining. I just want to hear him talk and joke more. I noticed he had rolled his sleeves up at one point and now his other sleeve had fallen down due to his dramatic hand gestures. It was kind of adorable.

“I’m definitely not drinking ever again. I’m so glad I’m not one of these people here, they will feel like hell tomorrow,” I tell him after watching another drunken person stumble out of the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone again.

He suddenly seems concerned, a total shift in his mood, “are you sure you’re okay? Did you even throw up last night? Like, you know, you need to get that shit out of your system.”

I bury my head in my hands, “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything after I was put in that car. What was up with that though? Who drove me home? Whoever it was, I just want to tell them that I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

He hurries to my comfort, “it’s okay! You don’t remember? I got my friend to pick us up, he drove you home and then drove me back to the house.”

“You were there, in the car? Why?” I was surprised. He didn’t have anywhere to go, since he was already home, so why would he be there?

“Holy shit, you really don’t remember a thing,” he tries to contain his laughter, “of course I had to be there with you, I mean, not to spark some memories, but you were quite literally all over the place and I feel like it was my duty to get you home, so I came along, which by the way turned out to be the right thing to do, since you kept passing out and leaning on me.”

I did? And he was there for me the whole car ride? Ignorance is bliss, but I wonder what made him do it. Was it his head or heart that made that decision? Is he hiding something to be considerate of me or is there something he is not telling me? I would do the same for him, though, but I’ll never tell him that, since we all have something to hide here.

“Oh God,” I groan in shame, “yeah, I don’t remember how I got home from the car, but I don’t think I want to even know. I know it will be embarrassing as hell.”

He seals his lips with his pointer finger, “okay, okay. I’m not telling you, unless you absolutely demand me to, but let’s just say that you were clinging on to me when I was walking you to the door like—”

“Stop!” I cover my face with my hands. This is so bad for me. I will never, ever hear the end of this. 

Well, that was until our night came to an end when he told me he has to get going, since he had promised to stream later tonight. Safe to say I was disappointed, but duty calls for all of us sometimes and I can’t do anything to stop it. 

I didn’t let him leave until I told him, “I can’t wait for the day when this will all be forgotten and we can go back to normal. I am so, so embarrassed.”

“You’re asking me to forget how it felt to have you all over me? You’re driving a hard bargain, I’m not sure I can do that,” he grins mischievously and reaches for my arms as I walk him to the door. This is hopeless, he is being impossible. Impossibly… flirty?

Hhe closes the distance between us to capture me in a quick embrace, wishing me a safe rest of the night, and then he is gone, vanishing into the night too soon for my liking like a figment of my imagination. For a second I really think if this is all just a really good book that we live in. He’s too good to be true sometimes and that’s what scares me. I think it’s safe to say I am free to move on from last night and that we are in the clear. 

I had to really comb the whole living room in the hope of finding my friend, to tell them I’m out of here for good. Now that Alex’s gone, I feel like this place is dead and I have already overtimed my stay. I made my way through the dancing bodies, bumping into a few.

“Hey, who are you? Where did a beautiful thing like you come from?” says someone behind me. I know they’re talking to me, because I can feel them trying to grab my arm to slow me down. Not to my surprise, when I make them the favour of turning around, I see a guy I have never seen before. He wasn’t too drunk to function or to know what he’s doing, but definitely has more than a few drinks down.

“Uh…” I stutter, “I was just about to leave.”

He groans, “nooo, c’mon, stay! I’ll get you a drink if you stay and—”

“I don’t drink tonight, actually. I still have a killer hangover from last night, so I just came to say hello to a friend here,” I tell him firmly before he can finish that sentence. I don’t need to hear it, because my mind can’t be changed. 

He seems taken aback and puts some space between us like someone will charge at him if he gets one more move wrong, “okay, I hear you, I respect that.”

Thank God. I smile in hopes that he lets me go on my merry way, until he tugs on me again, “hey, you’re not interested at all? Like, can I get your number at least? I swear I’m not a creep, but you’re really, really beautiful, and I’d like to know you. That’s all.”

He raises his hands up in surrender as to prove his innocence to me and I internally want to roll my eyes. I thought he might have been cool and all and and then he raises a red flag. Nothing good ever starts with what he said, ‘I’m not a creep, but…’. He seems harmless, even a little nervous to be talking to me, which almost makes me feel flattered. Almost. He is innocent until proven guilty. Hope it’s not a dead-end case.

Before I can pick him apart any more in my head, I agree to his deal and he seems to notably cheer up, “awesome. Thanks for giving a guy like me a chance, it’s not every day I get this lucky.”

Save those compliments for the date, I’ve already said yes, I thought. That said ‘date’ though, all I’m saying is that I won’t be mad if it never happens. I’m not particularly excited to possibly see him again, but I rather take the risk than the regret of what could’ve been.

I just smile again when we quickly exchange numbers, and then I leave. It’s unlucky I can’t see my friend anywhere, so I just text them on my way out that I’m leaving. They wish me good night. I

.

Ever since that weekend, I felt the universe shift again for me. I know I say that a lot, but something really changed between me and Alex, like someone had wiped our slates clean and tied our souls together into a pretty bow. Or maybe it was because of that damned Snapchat, he definitely has used it to his advantage and sent me stuff all day and night, telling me where he’s going or what’s he doing, like he wants me to know his every move. Whatever it is that we’re doing, I kind of don’t want it to stop. I want to hear more from him, see more of him, and if this helps the case, then so be it. I want to give this my best.

Work has been okay, actually more than okay, now that I finally know him the way I have wanted. Sometimes he calls me while I’m working and we go over some bits together and laugh about them, or he tells me about the game he has been playing lately and I try hard not to get distracted. If I’m having a tough day, he always manages to put me back together. It was not so long ago when I still felt like walking on eggshells around him, like I was desperately just trying hard to make a good impression on him, but now we ask all the deep questions and keep each other up all night talking about anything and everything. It’s weird how fast things have fallen into place with him.

Just like today, when I finished work and was almost expecting him to blow up my phone again for no particular reason. I actually can’t wait to hear from him. My phone did eventually ping to alert a text, but my smile fell when I saw it wasn’t a text from him, but from a number I don’t recognise nor have saved;

“Hey. Still up for that date, I hope? How about tomorrow?” 5:32 PM

A date? With who?

“I’m so sorry, who is this?” 5:34 PM

“It’s me from the party! You didn’t drink back then, but I wondered if you’d like to go out, I mean you did say yes after all. Unless something came up?” 5:35 PM

Oh, it’s him, from my friend’s house party. Tomorrow is Saturday after all, if it happens it will happen tomorrow. I don’t know if I exactly feel like wasting a perfectly good Saturday night on him when there’s endless potential for it, but I guess one date won’t hurt, so I tell him;

“Oh sure, tomorrow is fine. Text me the time and place?” 5:38 PM

“Great, there’s this restaurant I think you’d like, I’ll text you the address. How about at 7PM?” 5:39 PM

How does he think he knows me already? I’m just going to go along and hope for the best, whatever the best here is. 

“Sounds good to me!” 5:40 PM

.

It was 6.15 PM when I left the house the next day for this so-called-date. He had kindly offered to pick me up, but I told him I’d rather meet him there. 

The restaurant looked promising, at least on the outside. I don’t even remember the last time I went out to eat, now that I think of it. I definitely didn’t in a million years think my next time would be with someone I barely know, an actual date. He didn’t seem to care too much about the finer things, so I’m surprised this is the kind of place he decided to choose for us tonight, but I appreciate the effort. I’m lucky if I even remember what he looks like and if we find each other in this parking lot. 

I was there, leaning against the wall and looking around, until I saw a silhouette of someone I think I recognise getting out of a car. I’m pretty sure it’s him and he confirmed my suspicion by smiling at the sight of me and waving, making his way over.

“Hello there,” he greeted me politely, “let’s get inside and see what this place is all about, shall we?”

I nodded and let him lead the way. How bad could this be?

It was a few steps to the door that opened up a bustling, dim space for our eyes. I could barely make out what he was telling me, but I figured it was something about finding our table. I just nodded and went along with him as we walked further inside.

“How did we, or you, manage to get this table tonight?” I asked him when he found an empty booth and we made ourselves comfortable in it. I mean, this place is packed and if I saw correctly, there was a small queue outside that we were able to just waltz past.

“Well,” he blushed a little under the yellow light, coming from the lamp hanging above our table “I booked this for us on the same night when you gave me your number. I’m sorry—I probably went ahead of things a little, but I couldn’t let this opportunity go.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

At least he’s honest.

“Okay,” he smiled at me as if relieved, “good.”

A waitress came by to get our drink orders first. I decided to settle for one glass, he did too, and then we fell into small talk.

“So, what is it about you? Why are you ‘you’?” he questioned me.

Well, that’s one way to ask for my story.

I cleared my throat and thought about how much do I exactly want to share, before telling him about my studies. That’s always a good place to start, right? He kept nodding while listening to me, occasionally letting out approving sounds. Not that his opinion on what I should do or should’ve done matters too much. I asked him the same question in return, and that’s when he went into great detail about his life. Wow, I would’ve never guessed he’s so... educated and wealthy. A guy like him just doesn’t look like someone that walks around with such riches and glories like it’s nothing. Guess I could have not been more wrong about him.

If Alex was here, he would definitely crack more jokes and never make me feel less than I am—stop! Why am I thinking of him right now?

He kept rambling, not stopping even for a second when our drinks and food got placed down in front of us and we dug in, “I don’t want to brag, but I could change your life too if you gave me a chance. I have everything anyone could ever want and you look like you could use some of that.” 

I wanted to roll my eyes, because that’s exactly what he’s doing this whole time; bragging. It’s not the lifestyle I’m interested in nor do I need it from him. I suddenly feel very content with the simple life I have, I don’t need any of those things that he’s trying to force on me. 

As I was sipping from my glass, I could already imagine if Alex was here, how he would definitely steal some food from my plate and then act offended when I call him out for it and how we would make fun of pretentious people like my date. On the other hand, I need to stop thinking about him so much and stop looking at life through him and manage on my own for once.

We chat more between bites and gulps, mostly about him or the more serious stuff and the future, things that I didn’t really feel the want to discuss on a Saturday night or if ever, especially on a first date. I mean, we’re so young, what’s the rush planning the rest of our lives right this second?

I let out a few forced laughs here and there at his stories about his trips around the world, laughs that I never had to force with Alex. I felt almost ill at one point, like my gut was telling me something and I wasn’t listening. It didn’t get any better when he fell deeper and deeper into the same cycle of boasting himself and convincing me that he’s the greatest I will ever find. I think he should just date himself at this point.

He eventually slows down, “that was something, wasn’t it? Are you impressed, you don’t look impressed? What about you? What do you think you want to do?”

“Um,” I gulp, “I don’t know.”

“Hm,” he thinks out loud, “you could do so much more than you do right now. I’m not saying you could be as good as I am, these kind of things only happens to the few. I’m just the lucky one, but I think it would be good for you to give me a chance. You don’t need to be miserable for the rest of your live, when you could be happy with me.”

Oh God, I just want this to stop. How would he know what’s good for me and that I’m miserable with how life is going for me when in fact I am not? I mean, I am absolutely miserable right now here with him, but as soon as I get out of here I’ll be the happiest I have ever been and will go on living my perfect life that he won’t ever see. It’s perfect because it’s all mine and no-one else’s.

I nod just to get him to shut up, but as soon as I think it’s over, he looks like he’s eager and ready to delve into another story about himself. I sit there finishing up my food, occasionally listening to him, occasionally shamelessly thinking about Alex again. It’s a scary thought, how attached I feel to Alex all of a sudden. Maybe it’s moments like this, when I realise how good he is to me, so if nothing, at least this date gives me some new perspective on him and how he is the only beautiful thing in this ugly world. I can’t believe there ever was a me without him. 

We finish our plates just as he comes to an end on his story. I wonder if he timed that somehow and hope he doesn’t see through my facade and figure it out that I wasn’t paying much attention.

To my luck, he’s just all smiles, “thanks for listening. Now I guess it’s all up to you how you feel.”

Yeah, I’m not feeling much of anything.

He pays for us, at least he is a gentleman, and then we get up. I’m the one leading us outside this time. We stand there in the dark parking lot and he asks me if I need a ride home. I hastily lie again and tell him that I have a friend to pick me up, you know, any excuse just to walk away alone.

He seems to believe it and asks me instead, “so, will I see you again?”

Now’s the time for me to be honest. I shake my head, “sorry, I don’t think so,” and leave swiftly, but not without shooting him a sorry look. I don’t know exactly what I’m sorry for, I’m sorry for myself if anything. Almost everything he said tonight was uncalled for, I deserve something better.

As I make it far enough to not to be in his sight anymore, I fish my phone out of my pocket. It’s only 9:35 PM, I see. 

Before I can exactly control myself, I dial Alex’s number.

“Too drunk again?” he picks up, a taunting smirk evident in his voice.

Oh, how lovely it is to hear his voice, and just like that, he immediately makes me want to laugh the realest I have laughed the entire night. All it takes is really nothing from him to make me feel like this. It’s so easy for him to make me happy.

“Ugh, yeah,” I pretend to slur, “I went on this crappy date and drank for my misery the whole time.”

“You did?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I mean—what’s the truth? Did you really?”

“Yeah, I actually did.”

“No fuckin’ way,” his breath hitches for a second, “with who? You don’t know anyone.”

I laughed again, because he genuinely sounds like it’s news to him that I actually can go out and hang out with someone else other than him, “so you’d think, because I’m pretty sure I was just sitting at a restaurant with this guy, who, by the way, was—”

He rushes to interrupt me before he hears too much, “okay, okay! I get it, fuck. What the fuck—is this why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He’s right, we have not talked much today but I didn’t think it would concern him much, but now he makes it sounds like I should be behind bars for neglecting him for a day.

“Calm down, bucko. I didn’t even get to the good part, which is that I’m not interested in him and hope I never see him again.”

“Huh,” he exhales, “that bad?”

“Yeah… not the worst, but I didn’t have the best time either.”

“What happened? Why was he an asshole?” he inquired, almost defensively.

“Okay, imagine someone rich and successful—”

“Yeah, me,” he interrupts me again.

I shushed him through my giggles, “—and they just make it about themselves the whole time, like you didn’t have to come all this way just to tell me that you think you’re better than me.”

He groans in response, “yeah, definitely an asshole. What the fuck were you even doing there?”

“Well, I thought it’d be fun, you know, as you usually expect from dates, but it’s not every time you get lucky, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s why there’s only one of me,” he states.

I laughed again, “right. But, I’m definitely over it, so you don’t need to worry your little mind. The only thing you need to worry about is when will I see you again before the next date candidate comes along and steals me away again.”

“As you should, as you fuckin’ should be over it. That shit doesn’t sound like worth anyone’s time, especially not yours. I’ll see you next Friday, it’s settled, alright?”

This made me feel a whole lot better, I can’t lie. He’s so easy to be happy around, he doesn’t try too hard to be funny and that’s what makes him funny. I think he’s one of those people who I could list good things about for days. One of those people who constantly celebrates you like it’s your birthday every day. Someone who knows what you need before you know it yourself.

“I love how you know exactly what I need and want and how I should spend my time,” I tease him. What if he is that someone?

“I do. I have something for you that will surely make you feel better, wait.”

“Okay...” I will wait. I have no idea what he could have up his sleeve now, but I think I will be pleasantly surprised, like I always am with him.

All I hear next is rustling and him murmuring to himself as if setting up something or moving something heavy. It went on for a minute, before I heard him loud and clear again and what sounded like him placing the phone down, “so, I have this piano, I don’t know if you knew but… I haven’t played it in a long fuckin’ time anyway.”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know what it has to do with anything, but I will trust the process.

He starts playing and talking in a voice so obnoxious that it makes me cringe for a second, “if you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me—I'm in the room—in my room, I don’t know—it's a typical Tuesday night—a Saturday night, actually—I’m listening to the kind of music he doesn't like, and he'll never know your story like I do—something like that.”

I don’t know what is going on here, I mean it’s pretty obvious that he’s trying to lift my spirits that were stomped to the ground, but where is this coming from? All jokes aside, he’s pretty good at playing, but of course I don’t dare to tell him. Even if this is not genuine, I’m not mad about it, at least it’s something to laugh about, but if he’s this good when he’s not even being serious, I wonder how good he could be when he wants to be good. 

When he decides he’s done, it’s silent until I speak. He seems to be amused by how I’m struggling to make sense of this and laughs loudly, still playing random keys in the background, “yeah, that’s a good fuckin’ song, okay? It’s just straight up disrespectful if it doesn’t make you feel better. Like, I’m sorry I can’t write that shit myself, but I’m still here trying to make the most of it for you.”

For the rest of my way home we talk about nonsense and laugh, it’s what we do best. I try my best to keep good company, even though I’m not able to get back my mind that I had lost on him earlier and I hope for the best that it’s not too obvious that my mind is somewhere else, literally. Will I ever know the truth behind what he did, did he really mean it? Whatever the truth is; will it hurt, is it going to be worth knowing?

After we hang up the phone, I stare at the screen like it would tell me all the answers. That was one hell of a night.

.

He seemed to be completely oblivious to everything the following weeks. Work was as usual, except that it almost had became a ritual for us to see each other every Friday night. It felt dangerous, like I could finally live instead of just exist, it was living between existing. I lived in ways I had never before and no one knew, no one but me and him, but I liked it like that. We would hang out at his place most of the time, I would keep him company and he would keep all of my secrets. His place felt like a hideaway from the real world, most of the time I even forgot there was a real world out there, it felt like it was just us two. We spent time talking about anything and killed time doing much of nothing when there was nothing to talk about. Nonetheless, all time spent with him was time well spent.

As I was on my way to his place one Friday night, I had a different feeling about it as I typically do. Last week had been busy, maybe it was the stress catching up to me.  I made it to his door, knocking, waiting until he appeared behind it, looking a bit disheveled. We greeted each other and he let me in.

I was touching up in the front of the bathroom mirror when he barged in, “I was thinking—“

I looked at him through the reflection, silently asking him to keep going. 

“—we could go down to the pool now. I can see it from the window, there’s literally no one in there right now.”

“We can?” I asked in surprise. I mean, I’m really not surprised about it being empty, it is almost 9 PM, but I for sure would think that it’s closed at this hour. Isn’t that what he has told me before, when his friends were here too and we asked to go there but he said no, because it closes for the night? 

“Yeah!” he cheered, “why not? It’s always open for residents. I know I might’ve said last time that it’s closed at nights, but it’s technically not. I just wanted to—I don’t know—be there with you, not them.”

I’m not sure what he means by wanting to exclude the others, or why he suddenly seems hesitant to even look at me, or why he sounds like his guard is down and he struggled to say those words out loud, but I shrug it off. 

“Okay,” I agree, “but I wasn’t exactly prepared for this, I didn’t bring anything.”

If I would’ve known this was on the agenda for tonight, I could have been more prepared, but he is so full of surprises and spontaneousness that I shouldn’t be surprised. One of the many things I have learnt about him so far, I wonder if I will learn more tonight at the pool.

“No, no,” he waved me off, “I got it all.”

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle, “I have this left from… that night. Is this okay? Just something chill.”

I agree to it, knowing exactly the night he means. He has learned not to poke anymore holes into my remorse than I already have. It’s something we just have moved past.

I watch as he runs around grabbing the keys and the bottle and also two glasses from the cupboard, and then we’re off.

The air at the pool almost stood still, it was so quiet and calm. The moon hit the surface of the water right, making it illuminate before our eyes. I pried my eyes off of it just to see the stunning night sky above us. I suddenly felt small in this world and overwhelmed by how that sky is black, apart from the hundreds of stars, but I’m only seeing colours when I’m here with him. There’s so much beauty in this world that I will never get to see all of it, but this moment makes up for it; the way the universe is kind enough to always stay beautiful to make moments like this more beautiful. Or maybe I just fell for him and got a concussion that’s making me see stars and colours. One or the other. 

We sit down on the side of the pool, making ourselves comfortable. He pops the bottle open and pours us both a full glass.

“This is nice. If I could I’d be here every night,” I broke the comfortable silence. ‘Nice’ is definitely an understatement, but I don’t want to overwhelm him like I’m overwhelming myself.

He grinned and swirled his glass, “well, who says you can’t?”

“You, realistically.” 

He looked surprised as he gulped down some, “the fuck? You can come over here anytime you want, okay? You know that?”

“Yeah, I know.”

There’s never a point in arguing with him when it comes to… well, me. Like how he always wants me around and if I can’t be there with him, he always makes sure I know I’m at least on his mind by blowing up my phone, asking me how am I. Yeah, I told you; we’ve come far from where we started. 

We had a few glasses and talked, a lot. The night got darker as we got lost in endless conversations. I usually forget a lot of things, but I’ll never forget this night, I’m sure of that. It’s the way our minds and words merge together like missing parts, creating an entirety of mutual understanding that only makes sense to us.

As he eventually laid down on the concrete to relax himself and I decided to join him, the view of the luminous sky was undeniably impeccable from this angle. I could still hear the soft sounds of the pool too, the sound of the water gently splashing against the walls, that made me want to close my eyes. There are so many things to be happy about right now, but I’m thinking; what is it that we’re doing here? Are we crossing lines or are we just friendly? Why am I here every Friday night if it’s all innocent? Do I even want to feel like that about someone? Everything is good as it is, so why ruin a good thing like I’m doing right now. But if it’s not him in the end, then who?

I think I’m going through the melancholy you get in this position, when it’s late at night and you think too hard about the world and you get a bit sad and apprehensive about everything. 

“The same person that’s destined for you or cares for you or will become your everything someday could be looking at the same moon right now. Isn’t that insane?” I don’t even know what I said that, I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. I still don’t seem to know how deep is too deep.

He sounded tense, “it is, yeah.”

It didn’t sound like him at all. Where’s the laughs and the jokes that are more like him? I was almost expecting him to laugh at me and call me out for being too philosophical for his liking, but he didn’t. It made me nervous.

I turn to look at him as he seems to turn away. It gives me no answers. I think the silence is the loudest and clearest answer here. I’m not sure what happened in the span of these few minutes and why are we now acting like we don’t know each other at all? 

When he finally turns to me, I see a look on his face that I have never seen before. He looks almost emotionless. I know he knows this is getting weird and I don’t know anymore who’s to blame, I fear it’s me. There has never been a better time for him to quiet my fears than right now. I just wish he would.

Is this the moment for the inevitable hurt when something goes awfully wrong? Whatever it is, whatever will come out of his mouth next, will change something, change us. I’m sure of it.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally stutters. It’s so quiet I can barely hear it. I wonder how loud it must be in his mind.

“Yeah, anything.”

He laughed sadly, “yeah, anything but what I’m about to ask you.”

It can’t be that bad, can it?

“What is it?” I urge him to tell me.

He abruptly sits up, looking afraid of God knows what, his head slumped, looking very stiff and uncomfortable in his own skin. He has never been the one to run when the heat turns up and it scares me how much he looks like he’s just planning his escape from this situation right now. I want to be there for him so bad, to reassure him that everything is okay, but I settle for silence. I’m not sure what to say to him when he’s acting like this, it’s my first time hanging out with this side of him. So we just sit there, I’m literally counting the seconds, because I don’t know what else to do with my thoughts nor how to sort them.

He finally gets it together and sits up straight, “sorry—can I kiss you?”

Is that really what he wants? Does he know this could make us or break us? One move wrong and we fall apart. But, why do I want to say yes? I thank the lucky stars that it’s dark here, so he can’t completely see my face, I know I look as dumbfounded as I feel. I felt a rush of energy, I’m not sure what kind of energy it is yet.

“Yes,” I slyly give him my verbal consent and sit up.

“Holy shit, yes—really?” he slurred, almost as if he was drunk on this. 

When I nodded to confirm his question, it didn’t take him long at all to slot our lips together confidently, like he has thought this over before. I wonder if he has. I’d like to find it in me to ask him some time, but for now now our mouths are busy pressing and massaging against each other over and over again.

It felt like a movie with fireworks, like that whole Hollywood blown-way-out-of-proportion magic. I think moments like this, that are like something out of a movie, only happens to you once in your lifetime and I don’t regret one bit spending mine on him. 

Excuse my language, but shit got very real when he wrapped his other arm around me and deepened the kiss. It felt new and breathtaking. I’m pretty sure that he could make all my dreams come true overnight. Maybe that’s my head and the adrenaline running through my veins talking, but if this is already the dream, then I don’t want to wake up ever.

We slowly pull away, so slowly that it feels like for a moment we are one, and it takes a while for him to come back to reality and take his hand off of me. I want to tell him that it’s okay and that he can keep it there, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk just yet. My lips feel like they’ve been claimed for more important things, like they should never be used for any other purpose ever again than kissing him. He remained silent too and I wonder if he feels the same. I felt wildly flustered again as I thought about the possibility of me in his thoughts. I was even more flustered when I realised how much I want to do that again, but I’m not sure how much is too much. We’ve already crossed one line, so what’s another one?

He seemed to know it too and make it known that I was there, in every corner and place of his mind, when he looked into my eyes and whispered the only words that matters, “was that okay—did you like it? I liked it.”

“More than okay,” I reassured him, “I liked it so much that I’d like to do it again.”

Relief washed over his face and his eyes gained their usual whimsical twinkle back as he nods and cups the back of my neck and brings his mouth down to mine. It was even better than the first time, as he made me putty in his hands.

“What if it’s me?” he whispers against my lips. 

I pull away and knit my brows, “what?”

He laughs freely, “sorry. You were just going on about that shit about the moon and I was here next to you thinking how much I care for you and I don’t think you know it. Like, I’m right fuckin’ here.”

I’m not sure if my concept of care is the same as his, if he thinks it like I think of it. But, I can’t complain when he’s here pouring his heart out to me after everything.

“I… don’t know what to say, other than I care about you too, a lot. I just didn’t expect to find it in you tonight.“

He quiets down, “it’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it right now. I just wanted you to know that if you can’t find whatever you’re looking for, it’s because you already have it, it’s me.”

And there he goes again, turning into a cocky little tease. 

“Yeah, I’m done talking,” I pretend to roll my eyes.

Big mistake, because he plays along and doesn’t lose the smirk off his face, “are you, now? I’ll spare you talking, if you let me.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then, kind of to my surprise, he pulls me in for endless kisses. I don’t know what I expected, but it caught me off guard how brave he is all of a sudden with his words, his hands, his lips, all of it. But, I like it, the confidence. 

In the end he grabs our glasses and the empty bottle and asked if we should go back up since it was getting chilly. I agreed, because it was and I was dressed fairly lightly, no matter how bad I wanted to stay here with him. Those were one of the few words we exchanged as we made our way back upstairs. We left the pool just like we had come, as friends and nothing more, I guess. On the outside we appear normal, you would never guess there is something wrong, but on the inside we both know we had taken some damage. Repairing that would cost us facing things and questions that we are not ready to see just yet. Only time will tell the answers, I think.

He opened the front door and we were immediately engulfed by the warm air. It was dark in the apartment, until he switched on the lights, creating a dim atmosphere for us. I don’t know what is happening next, am I supposed to just go home now? 

“I have another question for you,” he told me in the kitchen, setting our glasses down, “you remember that piano I have? I wanna show you something.”

Oh God, how much more can I take for one night? 

Nonetheless, I nodded, “yeah, sure, but you don’t have to impress me anymore.”

I think he has done enough tonight to show me how he feels. I do regret saying that when I see him grin at me over his shoulder, like he is back to his usual self again that lives for teasing me, “what, like you’re fuckin’ hopelessly in love with me already? This is it, like—you want my last name now or later?”

I try to act as unfazed by his comment as I possibly can as I follow him into his room and then there he is, anxiously messing with his piano, while I just stand and watch. He didn’t have me waiting for too long when he spoke again, “I can do better than the last time you heard me playing this bad boy.” 

I played the memory of him singing to me on the phone back in my mind and laughed. 

“Okay, if you insist,” I told him, leaning back against the wall, letting him do his thing.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I don’t know what this will make me sound like, but I learned something that I think you will like and appreciate. You will, right?”

“Sure. It sounds like you’re hopelessly in love.”

I should know he is always one step ahead of me and that I can’t win, because he grins again as his eyes shift back to me, “there is hope. You’re still here.”

What is he doing to me?

Instead of more words, he let the music speak for itself and started playing. It didn’t take me long to recognise the song; You Belong With Me. Now, this makes it feel like he’s playing along to whatever joke this is, but as I stand there and watch him, I notice how much more serious he sounds. Of course I don’t dare to look at his face, I’m scared I might see through him, see his heart and soul and subconscious thoughts, see something that will change my mind about us, that maybe he is wishing non-existing things into existence, like us. Maybe this means more to him that I think it does. When I think I have him figured out, I realise I don’t. But I can’t exactly figure out myself either right now.

One thing I think I know for sure right now is that I feel something for him that I haven’t before. It’s when I see him like this, like he’s in his element, like music is the language he has wanted to speak to me all along. This is a total new side of him I have not had the pleasure of seeing before. I wonder if I’m really this special to him that he would do this, do something that most people would consider even romantic. 

And… it’s kind of even attractive how he plays.

“That was nice...”

“Yeah? Just ‘nice’?”

“You know what I mean,” I try to divert my gaze when I feel my face flush.

“Hm, tell me,” he rolls over to me in his chair and looks up at me. So many times I have seen those eyes, but now he stares at me so intensely I can almost see all the worlds and all the lives he has lived before. Maybe I knew him in another life and that’s why things are unfolding like they are right now, everything all at once.

“Fine! I think it was kind of… cute, and… I don’t know where all of that came from, but I think it made me think that maybe you were right. That you do things to me that no one else can.”

Wow, look at me being confident and speaking my mind. Never happens.

“‘Really now?” he smiles smugly, raising his eyebrows, ”fuckin’ finally. And you… you think I was cute too, huh? Just ‘cute?”

I sigh out loud, “fine. It was hot, okay?”

I think I went too far. I think that was too much. Maybe I have had too much to drink again. But no, I do know how I feel. 

His smirk doesn’t falter, and it’s my time to yelp when he suddenly makes the move to pull me on his lap. This is a whole new sensation. And what happened then? We got greedy again with our mouths and hands and each other. Endless sweet touches and kisses, as I stay seated on his lap. It was innocent as we still got used to the feeling of feeling each other this close.

We soon wrap up the night and I decide it’s time for me to go home and I actually couldn’t wait to be alone with my thoughts. I have a lot to think over, or maybe I’ll just fall into daydreams about him and this night instead. Tonight’s moment are going to be the rest of my life’s memories, and I can revisit those memories whenever I want to. He walks me to the door, we don’t really talk about what happened or what will happen next, instead he just settles for pulling me into a hug. His grip on me, that’s tighter than ever before, tells me everything I need to know, that he doesn’t want this to end here.

All he asks me as I’m about to walk out is “will we do this again?”, holding onto my arm, not willing to let me slip away before I can answer his burning question, whatever he means by ‘this’.

I just grin, “maybe.”

I still want to play a little hard to get after all this time, see what his intensions are and if he will keep fighting for me and my time. Now, I don’t actually mean any harm by that and I definitely want this to happen again, I just still feel like I have to preserve some self-respect and not be an easy target. Then I walk off.

.

The following week brings that painful tension between us and all I can think about is if we made a mistake at the pool and if I’m his brand-new regret. I’m trying to keep that thought out of my head, but it’s hard, because when it comes to work and talking with him, there’s so much tension there that I’m just dreading the moment when the heat turns up and it all sets on fire. I don’t know what will be left of us once that happens.

It wasn’t until a few more weeks had passed until it really settled in my chest, this hollow feeling, when something unexpected happens: he starts giving me the silent treatment. Something I never expected him to do, and unfortunately, I’m think I’m partly to blame. The night at the pool made things weird. If I think hard enough back to that night, it almost feels like a movie how he made the first move and unveiled both of ours wants for each other, but it ends as soon as I open my eyes and face the reality where he flipped the script and fleed. He had made me feel like I was flying that night, now I’m flying and getting motion sick.

I try texting him;

“Is everything okay? I need to talk to you.” 9:35 PM

He doesn’t respond. I wonder if he’s sleeping soundly meanwhile I’m staying up all night. 

Eventually I’m so tired I just fall asleep, my phone next to my head.

.

No text from him in the morning, or the morning after that.

I keep trying with a different approach;

“Pretty bored today, what are you up to? Unless you want me to get a head start and work on that stuff today already? Or unless you are up for some chatting :)?” 11:39 AM

To my surprise, he replies, but it’s not the side of him I was hoping would to come to the phone;

“No” 11:52 AM

If I’m not careful, I will get cut by the sharp edges of his tone even when there’s no reason for it. Maybe he doesn’t mean it like that, maybe he’s stressed and unintentionally took it out on me. I read the text again like a chant and wear it like a warning label. I didn’t know it would get to me like this, but I feel like I need to write it on me to warn people like him to watch their temper around me.

I text him one final thing before getting on with my day, even though I have a peculiar feeling he won’t reply;

“Okay. Let me know when you’re free to talk!” 11:55 AM 

I was right, for the rest of the day and night, he’s silent.

.

If I thought one day of his silence was loud, nothing could have prepared me for Alex disappearing from my life for a whole week and then two. He had brought us back to life just to leave like a ghost halfway through the good part of our story. It doesn’t make sense. Reality hurts too bad right now, I wish I could leave like he did. 

It was a text after another that I kept sending him, not even expecting a reply anymore but I still do it;

“Are you ok?” 7:52 PM

I wish I didn’t care so much, but I do. I thought we were getting along just fine, more than fine. That’s why it hurts.

.

My friend does keep me in check from that day on and blows up my phone with happy texts constantly, like they know somehow that I need a friend right now. Those are the only texts I seem to receive these days, so it was a real shocker when one day my phone buzzed with a text from Alex;

“Can we meet? Maybe by the park?” 1:15 PM

Oddly enough, I know the park he means. It’s the one next to where he lives that you can partly see from the living room window, the one I always walk past whenever I’m on my way to his. I think it’s the real oasis of this city, somewhere where the birds never stop singing and it’s always evergreen. I think that will change today. I’m never going to see that park in the same light again. I hope I’m wrong.

I throw on some clothes and then I’m out the door.

When I arrive at the park, he’s already there. Whatever it is that he wants to tell me, he must want to get it over with fast. When he looks like he doesn’t even want to look at me, I look at the sky and wish there’s an alternate universe somewhere up there where this is not happening, where everything is still okay.

I sit there next to him, nearly not as close as I used to would. The park looks ethereal as always, especially on a summer day like this it’s like a paradise, but you know what they say; even the sun sets in paradise. 

He sits there next to me in heavy silence, before taking a deep breath and telling me with his head in his hands, “listen, this whole thing—I’ve had fun, but…”

I’m just waiting for him to say it, that this was all a mistake.

He finally continues, “I’m just thinking about shit and turning shit over in my head. I like what has happened so far, but there’s just no dating—or being with someone like you. It’s so much more complicated than that.”

He said the d-word. Fuck. He’s braver than me. 

I don’t dare to interrupt when he keeps going, “I mean, you’re amazing, but it’s like—that’s the thing; you deserve someone that’s sure of what they want and don’t leave you hanging. For me, it’s like, I date or I don’t; I don’t do anything in between. And right now, I’m not sure what I want. You with me?”

He checks in with me and I just nod. I think I understand and I think I’m the same. Neither of us are cut out for casual dating, it has to be the real thing or nothing. And making the decision if we are ready for the real thing, I don’t know if we, or I, can make that decision right now after all. He also keeps dropping this d-word like it’s nothing. I guess this is the calm before the storm. 

“And—yeah, there’s not just dating, or committing to someone like you. People like you are so deserving of things I’m not sure I can give you. Maybe that’s just my insecurities talking, but I mean this as wholeheartedly as I can and hope you remember it. You deserve someone who deserves you, as simple as that, and I don’t know if I do right now, or ever.”

Wow, he really dug to the bottom of his feelings and found some gold there, and even shared some of it with me. 

I finally find my voice and some words to make sense of it all, “that’s—I’m very glad you told me that. I agree, there’s no telling who really deserves something the most, but I know you deserve good things too and I feel… very overwhelmed, but happy to know you see me as one of those. No matter what happens next, I think things have already changed between us, and maybe that means that the worst part is over, but I guess all we can do is keep going like before and see where we end up?”

He nods and croaks out, “yeah. That would be great. I need to get my own shit together first, like I don’t wanna be one of those fuckin’ people when I say this, but it’s not you. It’s me. I just want to be the best for you, but for now, I can only be your friend. Just like before.”

I’m glad we had this conversation after all, but still feel a little pang in my chest when we agree on staying like we were before, like there is no promise or guarantee we will ever make it as anything more. It’s better than nothing though. Now we just need time. Time for if nothing else, the sun setting in our paradise. 

.

There’s nothing that time and sleep can’t fix. Just a few days ago when I had the talk with Alex, I felt almost explosive, like if someone would have said the wrong things or made me upset in any way, I would have just exploded and spilled my feelings all over the place. There was more for me to process that I was able to take, but now I feel fine. We had a mature conversation, and I have a clearer vision of his feelings now. No more second guessing or doubting, or getting mad over literally nothing.

Work feels fine again, because at least that awkward tension is mostly gone, but we don’t talk as freely as we used to. That’s what happens when you’re not careful and spill your cup of romance all over your work.

I still nevertheless happily tell my friend about it over coffee. I didn’t mean to talk about it right there, in broad daylight, in a crowded cafe, but I did.

“So,” I tell them, “we did make up—I mean, there was no bad blood to begin with. I was just being dramatic, like you told me.”

“Yeahhh, I told you! I knew it,” they rolled their eyes at me from across the table, “no need to get all fired up if someone just—what did he tell you? Why did he do it? He was just busy, or?”

“Yeah, pretty much. He was just... busy. Yeah,” I have never sounded more shady. 

I know I still can’t blow my cover. This thing will be kept tightly under wraps until it feels right to discuss it with other people. I’m also that good of a person that I want his approval to share anything.

As I feared, my friend doubts me, “really? Is that really all? What are you not telling me?”

Digging a deeper hole for myself, I stutter, “yep! I just—I was really expecting there to be something, so I was just surprised that—you know, it wasn’t something I did. You know me, I’m paranoid like that, I don’t exactly like that about myself either.”

I was hoping this conversation would shift to something else, like my insecurities, literally anything else than this. A part of me feels bad for the lies I keep feeding them, but I know I’m doing this for the right reasons.

They squinted their eyes at me, “that’s weird, you’re being weird. I know you and I know you’re being weird like now. Since when we don’t tell each other everything?”

I don’t like how sad they sound all of a sudden.

“I am telling you everything, as always,” I try to comfort them, “it’s just weird for me to talk about him, because you know—he’s him. I just still feel weird about it that I get to know him like this.”

That seemed to ease their mind, as I witnessed a slight smile creep back into their face, “okay, okay, I believe you.”

.

As summer starts nearing its’ end, I feel like it’s also the end of other things too. Like the thing between me and Alex. We haven’t really hung out or even talked, and on top of that, I heard the news that it’s safe to travel again and that he’s going back home to Mexico for at least the rest of the summer, maybe even for longer. He didn’t tell me how long he will be gone for, but I know how his tone works and that there was something he didn’t tell me. Meanwhile I knew I will miss him terribly, but didn’t dare to tell him that either, considering the circumstances.

And so, he leaves in silence and I let him. I get to keep my job and talk to him about work matters, but anything other than that, nothing.

I miss him bad and fear that by the time he comes back there is going to be nothing left of us. He lives in a whole new world now, or that’s what it feels like. It feels like he is lightyears away.

.

“So, what do you want to do on Saturday?” my friend asks me as we pick out what to eat from the menu.

“Why?”

“Your birthday, dummy! You forgot your own birthday?”

“Of course I didn’t,” I scoff back.

They just sip their drink and devilishly smirk at me from behind the glass, “sure. Anyway, we could go shopping for some props, since we’re here at the mall. Do you know who’s coming yet?”

I scratch my head, “not really.”

Truthfully, there’s only one person I hope to see there, but it will not happen since he’s not here. I wonder what he is doing right now, wherever he is.

.

It’s the weekend, — and more importantly, it’s my birthday today— , but I’m just feeling blue. I’m throwing a party tonight and invited all of my friends that are in town, and in conclusion, they are coming over any minute now and I need to feel better ASAP before I become a buzzkill. I could lie and tell to myself that I don’t know the reason behind my heavy heart, but I know. Me and Alex haven’t really talked lately. I doubt he even knows it’s my birthday, or if he knows I wonder if he cares. It just sucks things have went south between us.

Soon my friends are walking in through the door one by one, holding small gifts or flowers and hugging me, wishing me a happy birthday. They don’t know that the best gift would be if Alex was here, as ungrateful as that sounds. The music is blasting through the speakers, but it’s not as loud as the thoughts in my head. This is going to be a long, miserable night if I don’t get it together.

We take a bunch pictures to post online and show everyone how much fun we are having. For me, it all feels like a facade. That’s how social media usually makes me feel, but now it feels like a whole cliché how I’m acting all happy, but inside I’m in shreds. If things were any different, would Alex be here right now? Possibly. That breaks my heart. 

The night goes on and I keep discreetly checking the door and my phone every now and then. I still don’t seem to understand that he won’t be here. One day he maybe will, if I don’t overthink myself to death by then.

We poured more drinks and even set up a little party game section in the living room, moving the furniture for more space to move and dance around. The more fun we had, the more ungrateful I felt for wanting more from this night, because at least I have my real friends right here with me. How could I ever wish for more? Who else could I count on if not them? I might feel lonely without Alex, but I would be lost if it wasn’t for the people here. There’s a difference and that tells me everything I need to know.

I can definitely have fun tonight. I can stop holding out my hand for someone who has no intention of taking it if I want to.

I poured myself another drink and to make up for my lack of gratitude so far, I went to turn the music up and got cheers from everyone as response. I do miss him, but I know now it will pass.

.

It was fine until it got to the point of the night when I have had enough to drink to start to feel emotional or sentimental or both and cursing myself for it. A moment when I just want to text someone something risky, especially Alex. It’s a stupid idea, a bad idea even, and just not worth it for me to be so forward on the phone now and then later flinch at the silence he will give me in return.

I still do the bad thing. I go to the bathroom and before I step out again, I type a quick text to him,

“I wish you could be for my birthday tonight :( It’s fun, but would be more fun with you here. 10:55 PM

Now I feel stupid as I stand and watch the text being delivered to him, knowing it’s too late to undo the damage. Way to make him feel guilty for not being here and making a fool out of myself in the process too. I know I’m better than this and I don’t like the sides he’s seeing of me right now.

I exit the bathroom and my friends tell me we should move this party to a bar. I agree, I have neighbours after all and it’s now past 11 PM, meaning we have to quiet down. And so the music stops and tables are being cleared and the lights are being switched off as we leave, but the night is not over for us yet. 

It’s a struggle for us to get a ride this late on a weekend, but we eventually manage to get a cab.

As we all finally squeeze in the car, I check my phone. My heart unpleasantly makes a drop to the pit of my stomach like I was on a roller coaster of life when I see a text from Alex;

“Happy Birthday” and a stupid meme attached to it that immediately makes me smile. 

It’s just like the old times happening all over again, like someone rewinded the story of us, when we were able to joke around like this with each other. It feels nice to do it again. Maybe I can finally take my heart down from the shelf I had reserved for him and accept that there is just friendship after everything we’ve been through.

I was looking out the window, watching the city lights and busy streets pass us by, while listening to the song on the radio and my friends conversing about what they will order at the bar. Things might not be as good as they used to be with Alex, but at least he’s still somewhere out there for me.

I lock my phone and put it away in my bag for good. We will be okay again. Or that’s how I’m trying to distract myself from thinking too much, because I know deep down I miss him bad.

.

At the bar, it’s jolly. I’m bubbly like the bubbles in our drinks. There’s no reason to be sad anymore, as long as I remember to forget. We dance the night away, we take more pictures, and buy all the fancy drinks. I know it’s a one-way ticket to temporary happiness, but I’m planning on staying for as long as I can. 

I get up to go and order another drink, and my friend comes along to tug at my clothes. I figure they are just too drunk to support themselves, until I notice their eyes wide as a deer’s in headlights and they shriek in my ear, “oh my God, I think I just saw him!”

“Who?” I cringe at their volume. 

They stammer and wave their hands frustratedly, already having trouble expressing themselves due to being under the influence, “Alex!”

My heart sinks.

“He’s not here, he’s home! We’re literally not even in the same country right now,” I try to get them to calm down, before someone else intervenes. I understand that this isn’t a good look on us here, them all over the place, freaking out.

“You ordering?” the bartender asks, seemingly bored of waiting around. 

I tell him to hold off a minute and instead escort my friend back to our table. What kind of a sick joke was that anyway?

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—it looked just like him!” my friend still slurs their apologies to me. 

“Okay, I believe you. It’s okay,” I coo at them when they look at the verge of tears. What have I started? My brain being occupied with the endless trail of thoughts of Alex all night seems to be contagious. Are we all going crazy? Is this fun anymore? 

I don’t know if I even believe them, though. I’m curious who it was, I could imagine it’s someone that does not look like Alex the slightest. You know, when you have had too much to drink, anything can look like anything. I admit, the thought of it makes me want to laugh. It’s kind of funny in the end. 

“Hey!” someone storms up in front of me.

What now? Oh no, are we in trouble? Was that scene we made too much? 

I look up and squint, just to be met with eyes I know I have looked into before. I almost jump out of my skin when they splay a hand across my back. 

“I found you! I actually found you!” they giggle. 

And that’s definitely the same laugh I have had the pleasure of hearing before. 

Alex?!

I swear I almost fell forward from shock, “what? How… How?”

Alex places his arm on mine now and leans in to talk quietly to me, as if he doesn’t want me to miss a word, “what does it look like? Okay, I know it looks bad, but…”

I waited for him to say something and still look at him like he is a shooting star passing me by, which seems to amuse him. 

“I flew back, to... see you, I guess? Yeah. I have to go back home tomorrow, or so, but then I’ll be back again, okay?”

None of this is actually making sense like it should. He came all the way here, just for a day, to attend my birthday party? He flew all those hours to see me and has to do it all over again tomorrow? 

I’m here standing in place, his hand steadying me. It’s like the world has stopped for us, and it’s just waiting for me to make a choice, make a move, say a word, for things to start moving again.

I know he’s touching me, but I almost don’t feel it. I can see he’s desperately waiting and begging me with his doe eyes to do something, but I can’t quite acknowledge it. Did he make the right choice by showing up here? Just when I felt like I was content leaving things between us unfinished, to never write that chapter, he’s bringing everything back.

I know whatever I feel and whatever my choice will be is real, when tears pool in my eyes, that he seems to notice even in the dim lighting, because he starts to move his hand and rub my back again soothingly.

“W-what changed?” I finally ask him, when I got myself together. Except that I’m now crying, great. 

He looks surprised that I want to have this talk right here, right now, but then tells me “I wanted to see you, and I want to see what life could be with you. You know, if we take the next step.” 

In spite of everything, in this moment, I feel it in my soul  and heart that I need him in my life, in any way it works out, but even better if it’s in a way we haven’t explored before. Or is it? 

“Don’t overthink it,” he reassures me, as he can sense the distress I’m in, “let’s make the most out of these few days and see what happens.”

I nod, “that sounds... perfect.”

He laughs lightly, and pulls me finally in a tighter hug and sways us back and forth. I could spend the rest of my night here. 

My friends are quiet behind us, trying to mind their own business’s, but of course they are curious too, looking at us and then looking away when I try to catch their eyes. I don’t even want to know how dramatic I look, with tears rolling down my chin, pouting my lips. 

I guess I have to introduce Alex to them now, kind of. I’m sure they already know him. 

He stands there right by my side as my friends pipe up their “hi”, making sure to say hello to everyone back. 

I can’t help myself, but only look at him with stars in my eyes. How charming he is towards everyone, not losing that smile on his pretty face even for one second and raising his eyebrows in surprise every time he tries to memorize a new name. It’s kind of an… attractive look. I should stop. 

None of my friends still have no idea that there is something going on between us. To them, we are just friends, good friends. But just between me and Alex, we both know now there is something more brewing. 

I’ll tell them in my own time. Nothing gets out, until I’m ready for them to know. And this bar doesn’t seem like the ideal place to drop such scoop. I’m sure we all want to be sober for that conversation, too. 

“Sorry, I have to go and lock my car doors. I got out in a rush when I was looking for you and feel like I’m getting robbed right fuckin’ now as we speak,” he whispers to me and laughs.

I smile at him, until my smile falls, “your car? I mean, yeah, of course, but how did you even find me? How did you knew I was here? How did you knew to drive here, out of all places?”

He just mysteriously grins from ear to ear, “so many questions, but how could I not know? That’s all you’ve been posting and I can still see your Snapchat location, you know? I knew it would come in handy one day.”

It dawns on me, “oh, right.”

I never even thought of that possibility. He’s a hundred steps ahead of me in thinking. Props to him. 

I let him go and as he disappears for a minute, it’s already enough time for me to start missing him. I lived all this time without him, and now even a second is too long without him. Love is impatient. I want him only to myself. Love is selfish. I’m talking about love like it’s been here the whole time. Love is blind. 

I want to cry again. I’m not sure if they are happy tears this time. I’m happy, because he’s here, but it also fills me with a heavy feeling, because I can’t exactly celebrate and smother him with love here in public like I want to. I need to be careful of every word and action with him in front of my friends. Hearts aren’t meant for cages and chains, and that’s what mine feels like right now, locked up and tortured. Misused. Might as well not have one. 

No one at the table says anything. I guess they are either still drunk and ready to go home, or just flabbergasted. I’m both. Mostly the latter. I feel almost completely sobered up. 

Before I can hold myself back, I tear up again. I’ll just blame this on the drinks, or him, or me, or my friends. All of it is overwhelming. 

My said friends immediately gather around me to comfort me and in chorus ask me what’s wrong. I almost want to say everything is wrong, but that’s not true.

“Are you just going to make yourself cry more and not tell us what’s happening?” they push me to talk and huddle around. It makes me crack. 

I choke out and sniffle, speaking no matter how much my voice breaks, “he’s just so great, you guys, like… you see him now and he’s so kind and amazing, right? But once you actually get to know him like I do, he’s incredible.” 

I can’t pick my head up anymore from where it’s buried in my hands, but I can tell by the loud silence that there’s confusion in the air, until my friend snaps back to reality and is the first to ask me what I’m sure everyone else is thinking, “but… this is a good thing, right? Happy tears?”

Others agree to the question, waiting to hear the confirmation of their conclusions from me. Safe to say, they are surprised at my outburst, but still supportive.

I hiccup, “I guess...”

Now I just feel like leaving it at that, if they can’t figure it out themselves that I’m not happy with the way things are. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I got some of it off my chest and that’s it. No more spoilers. 

“You’ve cried a lot tonight, on your birthday too! Are you sure you’re okay?” another friend asks. 

I settle for silence and silent weeping for a little longer, until I croak out, “I feel like I have never felt like this about anything, or anyone, before like I feel about him. There’s so much emotion, as you can tell. And I—we—there are some feelings involved, has been for a while now. I like him, he likes me. He wants to try to—I don’t know—see if we could be more than friends. That’s why he came here tonight.”

Shit. Before I can stop myself, I have spilled the secret. This is bad. I can still feel my cheeks burning under the stream of tears and I don’t see an end to it. I have to get it together though, before Alex gets back. Which should be any second now, by the way.

I don’t even know if he’s okay with this information being out. I don’t even know if that’s true. What if it doesn’t work out in the end and he leaves the country again as just a friend? 

I try to wipe my eyes before he comes back.

“It’s okay! I mean, wow, I never saw this coming, and judging by your reaction, you didn’t either, but sometimes it just happens like that, when you least expect it,” my friends are immediately there for me.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you, it’s just really scary for me that you guys know now. And it’s a big deal.”

When Alex finally, or at a perfect time, comes back when I look decent again, everyone fortunately acts the same as before. I don’t think he even notices that I’ve been shedding tears again. In any other situation I’d feel hurt, but now it’s for the better. At least I don’t think he notices, when he smiles at me and makes the move to put his arm around me to be cute, but holds himself back and instead asks me if I’m okay. 

We stay for one more round of drinks and I comprehend that he hasn’t wished me a happy birthday yet. Maybe there’s a time and place for that later.

When the night actually comes to an end and everyone has an assigned ride home, Alex gets close to me again and asks me, “so, uh—do you want me to drop you off at home?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

He gentlemanly opens the car door for me and waits for me to climb in, until getting in from his side. Before he even considers driving off, he looks at me and daringly caresses my cheek with his soft fingertips, “hey. Happy birthday. I didn’t tell you yet and—”

He checks the time.

“—it’s past midnight, but fuck it. It’s still your birthday, don’t listen to the clock.”

We laugh in the dark car and I give him my most sincere thank you. 

“So, about your present…”

I examine his face, and how it turns smug, and tell him, “a present? I think you coming here was enough. What could be better than that?”

I’m surprised when he still doesn’t start the car, but pulls his hand back a little bit just to use his thumb to swipe it slowly across my lower lip and murmurs, “no, no, nothing like that. There’s really only one more thing that I could give you.” 

“What is it?” 

Alex tilts my chin up, his eyes not leaving my lips, “I think you know. Do you trust me?”

Oh… I think I do know what he means. 

I gulp as he gets closer, “I do.”

This is not the first time we kiss, but it’s the first time we do it when we know the feeling is mutual and this could become a recurring thing. As our lips mash and do their thing together, his warm fingertips slips under my the hem of my shirt just a little, to test the waters. I let him twiddle with the material and claim every inch of my skin. 

“What time will I see you tomorrow?” I mumble drunkenly against his greedy lips. Not on the drinks at the bar, but drunk on love, or whatever it is. It’s more than lust what we feel.

He retreats himself and the moment is gone, “what makes you think we’ll see each other again?”

I look at him confused. 

He fiddles with my hands that he has draped over his lap and continues, “what if we never say goodbye tonight? If… you want to stay the night at mine?”

What’s the worst that could happen, why not? Now that things between us are finally moving, I don’t want them to stop. 

I agree and his delicious, cherry-red lips curl into a smile, while an awed look swims in his pupils. He looks as gone as I feel. 

He finally reaches out to turn the engine key and the car purrs to life. I lean my head against the window and watch the sleeping city pass by. The empty streets void of people while we cruise is like a vision of a dream, like it’s just us two in the world tonight. Speaking of, in what world did today happen? This doesn’t feel like the same world I used to struggle in, living feels and comes as easy as breathing now with him. 

We drive and drive, until the scenario changes to something I recognize. We must be close to his apartment. From here I can see the park bench where we had that talk a while ago, when we agreed on staying as friends and he kind of broke my heart for the first time when he told me he needed time, and there was no certainty of anything. The place sparks up unpleasant memories in me. 

He seems to notice it too and taunts me, “you want to sit there? Reminisce with me a little bit?”

“If you do that I’ll break up with you!” slips out of my mouth. My big, stupid mouth. Can’t take my big, stupid mouth anywhere these days. Never in a million years I should have said that. 

“I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” I finally admit when he’s fallen silent. I really don’t know. We never said the D-word, dating, again since that day at the park, ironically. Not until now. We haven’t even established that, there’s no label on us that says we are exclusive. That’s a talk for another day. 

Alex finally opens his mouth and laughs, “I think you do. I know what that meant. You will break up with me.”

As he recalls those words back to me, I cringe so hard at myself. 

“No, seriously. I didn’t mean it like that,” I try to save face. Just when we agreed to take these few days slow, I go and announce it to him that in my head we are a couple. Leave it to me to mess up this bad. 

“I mean,” he seems to be enjoying putting me on the spot like this, “I don’t know how many ways there are to break up with someone.”

I sink into the seat, trying to be hide in plain sight. I hope he would let it go, but I know he won’t. Especially when he lays his hand on my thigh while driving with the other. Now we must look like a couple. A couple of pining people, if nothing else. 

“Now you want to get shy?” he asks, “would you still feel as shy if I said I kind of don’t want to wait anymore either?”

“With what?” 

He doesn’t even hesitate to speak and also doesn’t let go of me, but still holds my thigh in place, “fuck it, let’s make it official. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you want me as much as I want you. I want you in a way that allows us to be together. So, what do you say?“

My face gets hot. It’s what he does to me when he’s this blunt. 

“I would love that,” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. I have a feeling these four words will be the most important ones I will ever say. 

He smirks, “great! Uh—I would love to make this more romantic and shit, but…”

“You did this, technically, on my birthday, so I think it’s pretty romantic and great already. And I think it’s kind of us to just be spontaneous. It was perfect.”

He parks the car, “with the way you’re throwing all this praise my way, are you sure you can wait until we’re out of the car before you jump my bones?”

I try to duck my head down to hide my face, but he leans in and presses a single, seductive peck on the side of my jaw, before winking at me and exiting the car, before hurrying to my side to open the door for me.  I am definitely falling. 

.

“So, that’s how we got here,” I tell his friends in the kitchen, the luminous afternoon glow radiating through the window, illuminating our faces. Ever since the night when we—in his words, made it official—things have gone great. He had to leave the day after, but then eventually came back home from Mexico and told me he’s here to stay. So, life is sweet. It’s all like a dream, but the only difference is that I’m awake. 

What it comes to his friends: Karl, Punz and Foolish especially, the night I blacked out wasn’t thankfully the first and the last time I saw them. I had another chance of redeeming myself. We’ve hung out as a group a few times, like we are currently doing, and they are dying to know how exactly did we end up here. 

And, I am glad to tell them. Over and over again, as many times as they want to listen. 

I get up to walk to the fridge to fetch a drink, and notice Alex standing in the kitchen, preparing me a snack I didn’t ask for, but know I need. He’s sweet like that, making sure I eat and offers to make me something whenever he can tell I don’t have the energy to make it myself. It’s scary, how well he knows me already, but I can say the same about him. I think that’s how you know you have found your person. 

Alex purposely gently nudges and bumps me, just as I walk past him, “oh! Woah! Is this like our love story? Like in the old days?”

It takes me back to when we used to do that. 

He seemed to be finished with the dishes and stepped to his right where I was, and our bodies had another collision, I think this being the worst one yet. Like we’re used to it already and know the route out of the awkwardness, we just laugh it off. I don’t understand what the universe is trying to tell me to do right now, because it seems like every move I decide for myself to make is wrong. 

I understand now that the wait is over why it had to happen. It was painfully awkward to even look at him afterwards, but I would do it all over again if it meant that we would still have our happy ending. 

“Oh, shut up!” I scold him through my smile and in return, push him back with my hand. 

He grabs the hand I’m holding out and pulls my whole body against his instead and tells me he will never stop, pulling me into a kiss to seal the deal. He belongs with me, and there's never a day when he doesn't make me feel the same.

THE END.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 15

Notes: And we're back and with the longest chapter yet! I'm feeling much better now and want to thank everyone for the well-wishes and patience! I do want to give a heads up that with the holidays coming up, I will likely be a bit busier and not able to update EVERY day as I did previously. But I still hope to pump our 2 or 3 chapters a week! Stay in the loop on my tumblr, and thank you all for your support!!

Summary: Sonic and Shadow are tense after their interaction in the valley. However, Shadow finds a curious object and needs Sonic's answers.

Chapter Select!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Sonic just had to open his big mouth. He had finally felt like he was getting this new Shadow to open up some to him and not be so distant. And then he had to go and use the ‘M’ word, and that’s all it took.

It was just like all those years ago when he first brought Shadow home from Eggman’s base. Back to square one. And it was exhausting for Sonic.

He was so used to being able to just.. touch Shadow. To be with him with little-to-no bounds aside from the healthy ones placed. To be able to hold his hand, give him little nuzzles on his cheek to calm him, kiss his ears when they started to twitch from constantly being on high alert..

This Shadow had all the same ticks as his own Shadow, and yet Sonic had no idea how he was supposed to handle him. Frankly, he’s a bit too scared to touch this Shadow considering how he reacted to Sonic’s minor touches when he first woke up here..

And now he feels further away from him than ever. 

Sonic arrived back at Shadow’s house to all the lights being turned off and his bedroom door shut. New Shadow is inside. Sonic can smell him. The lingering scent of lavender and grass on him..

Sighing, Sonic locks the door behind him with his key– yes, he has a key to Shadow’s house because it’s not really Shadow’s house anymore, it’s their house, but stupid new Shadow is making Sonic feel like an uncomfortable guest in his own damn home–

Anyway.

Ears drooped back, Sonic walks to the stairs and takes a single step up them before pausing. Gloved hand grips the railing tight, brows knit as he looks up at the darkness above. The closed door. His lips purse tight, jaw jutting out in determination before that determination fades and leaves him feeling deflated and just.. Tired.

He breathes a long breath out, letting go of the railing to instead turn to the living room.

He could sleep on the couch.

But he doubts he’ll be doing much sleeping.

Taking out his phone, he unlocks the door once again to walk back outside and shut it behind him. 

‘Hey buddy. New Shadow and I are back home if you need us. Call me if you have any updates, please..’

Send. He sighs and pockets his phone again, looking up at the stars. The half moon in the sky.

Shadow and Sonic always would tease each other about the moon. Sonic telling Shadow it was the result of his biggest temper tantrum yet.

But on a more serious note, they’d always find comfort in knowing no matter where they were, they were both looking at that same broken half moon.. Sonic trying to associate it with something positive rather than Shadow being manipulated.

He wonders if Shadow is looking at that same moon wherever he is..

Or if he’s even looking at a moon at all.

If he’s even–

“Woah, Sonic..,” the blue hedgehog hushes his thoughts, tail tucking down between his legs as he shuts his eyes and calms his breathing he hadn’t realized was even picking up, “Don’t even go there..”

He can’t. He might lose it if he thinks like that.

Walking over to the nearby tree in the front yard, Sonic begins to hops up and swing himself up the branches. Couches were never really his thing. Neither were beds, honestly, until he started sharing one with Shadow. Nah, he was a free spirit. Didn’t have a home. Didn’t have a roof. Instead, he preferred trees or caves or the occasional rooftop or top of a lamppost if he was in the city.

And if he could just so happen to sneak a peek inside Shadow’s bedroom through the window from the branches, that’s just an added bonus.

Settling on a thicker and less shaky branch near the middle of the tree, Sonic finds himself perfectly nestled and tucked in the leaves.. and angled at Shadow’s room.

It’s not creepy, okay?? He just.. needs to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t know anything about this Shadow or what he’s capable of.

Plus, a piece of him worries.. Different Shadow or not, it’s still Shadow. And Sonic can’t not care.

It breaks his heart, honestly. Thinking about how this Shadow had to learn how to be okay all by himself. Thinking about this Shadow going through all of the Black Arms invasion alone. All of that chaos in the White Space by himself. No support system. No comfort.

It honestly makes Sonic pissed at whatever version of himself doesn’t care enough to be there for him.. Whatever version of himself that didn’t care enough to look for him.

Sighing in frustration at the thought, Sonic’s attention is soon caught by movement in the window. The glare of the moon on the glass makes it a bit difficult to see, but he can make out Shadow’s silhouette walking around the room. Pulling drawers open, looking through his closet, under the bed.

Investigating.

Sonic imagines he’d be doing the same thing too if he were pulled into another world and was staying at an alternate version of himself’s house. He’d be curious, no doubt.

This Shadow seems more than just curious, though. He seems.. frustrated. Overwhelmed. Desperate for answers or reason. His eyes are glaring but look more lost than angry. His ears are pointed as if refusing to droop back and show weakness or vulnerability. Stubborn. But Sonic knows Shadow. And he knows when Shadow is upset, his back quills twitch in a defensive bristle sort of way.. 

This Shadow is no different.

His chest aches knowing he can’t go in there and comfort the guy. Fix things. Make them not so scary for the guy, not so confusing. But he imagines that he himself is half the problem on why Shadow is so overwhelmed in the first place.

It’s not every day you wake up dating your rival.

Shadow seems discontent with most things he finds, but when he opens the nightstand on Sonic’s side of the bed, he pauses.

Sonic holds his breath for the reaction, expecting something angry or similar to a suppressed child throwing a tantrum. An explosion.

Instead, he watches how Shadow reaches into the nightstand and pulls out the contents.

It only takes a few moments for Sonic to realize it’s his shoe box. Sonic is often not seen as sentimental, but he cares privately. He keeps things most people overlook. Things many wouldn’t appreciate the way he would.

Shadow sits on the side of the bed, box in his lap, and opens it slowly like he fears what he may find inside.

Sonic wonders what’s going through his head when he sees it’s just a bunch of silly trinkets and souvenirs. 

He looks annoyed at first. Then perplexed. Then thoughtful..

He watches crimson eyes skim over each item in the box, lifting a few and sniffing them before placing them down ever so carefully precisely where he found them. 

His frustration heightens, and then all at once, diminishes. Like he’s coming to some sort of realization..

Sonic frowns a bit, watching the distressed hedgehog through the window from his branch..

Shadow keeps the box and its contents in hand and then stands from the bed, pausing only briefly before moving towards the door. Sonic immediately sits up at this, brows knitting as he quickly tries to shuffle down from the branch he’d been resting on. If Shadow is gonna go looking for him, he wants to be there.

In his haste to try and get down, though, his foot snaps a jutting out twig. Sonic doesn’t think much of it until he hears the swift roll and snap of a window opening.

Emerald eyes widen and return to the bedroom window only to see Shadow leaning out it with wide ruby eyes staring right back.

“...”

“...”

“...Sooo..,” Sonic smiles nervously, “Fancy meeting you here..” “Were you spying on me??” “Me?? Pshhh. No. Why would I do that–” “You aren’t convincing in the slightest.” “Your face isn’t convincing.” “I’m not trying to be convincing.”

“That’s not–” Sonic groans and rubs a hand down his face with a sigh, “Nevermind. I wasn’t trying to spy on you. I just-”

Shadow’s head tilts at the hedgehog, an eyebrow raising expectantly and Sonic just gives way too quickly. “Okay. I was spying. But it was with good intentions. I was worried about you,” he confesses with a little frown, his ears folding back. Shadow blinks at this, his face going neutral as he looks off to the side a moment. “I think I might have went to far back there in the valley. This whole thing has got to be super overwhelming for you, and I pushed some pretty heavy subjects pretty quick. It’s a… personality flaw of mine..”

Shadow frowns at this, looking back to Sonic now as if sizing him up.

Sonic just keeps nervous rambling, “Plus, I didn’t wanna leave you in a strange new world all alone, and I don’t really do couches–” “You live here,” Shadow interrupts, Sonic going silent with a quiet “huh??” Thrown off by the sudden observation. “You live here… in my home,” Shadow elaborates, looking back at the box he had left on the bed, “...You sleep in my room..”

Sonic feels his nerves ramp up even more, “Uhh-”

“You said our home when I first woke up..”

Sonic swallows. Then nods. “Yeah. I did.”

“...”

Shadow seems to think this through for a solid minute, Sonic not saying a word as he watches not a single emotion cross that stoic face but many roll through crimson eyes.

“...You should sleep in here,” Shadow concludes after the long silence, nearly knocking Sonic out of the tree in shock. “Huh???” “This is your bed. You should sleep here. Not me,” Shadow says simply, stepping back from the window as if expecting Sonic to jump on in.

Sonic just stays still.

“..Nah, man, I can just chill out here for the night–”

“Get inside.”

“Okay.”

Sonic ain’t about to question that tone, moving to the edge of the branch carefully before jumping inside through the window with ease. Landing next to Shadow, Sonic watches the ebony hedgehog immediately close the pane back up before turning to the bed without a word.

Sonic watches as Shadow picks up the box again and turns back to Sonic, “I’ll let you have the bed, I’ll take the guest room. But you have to explain this first.”

He doesn’t look angry. He looks like he genuinely just wants to understand what the hell is in that box.

Sonic looks at Shadow a long moment. Then the box. Then Shadow again. Then he snorts with a small shrug and, “Okay..” Reaching to take the box, Sonic watches Shadow slowly give it to him before retracting and crossing his arms a bit uncomfortably.

Sonic offers a tiny smile before nodding his head to the bed where he and Shadow both sit. Sonic opens the shoe box, placing the lid to the side before looking to Shadow, “What ya wanna know??” “All of it..,” Shadow says quietly, furrowing his brows at the contents of the box again as if trying to understand.

“You sure you wanna know? Can’t get mad at what I tell ya..” “Just tell me, hedgehog,” Shadow huffs, “And start with the eggshells.”

Sonic smirks a bit at that, “Okay, okay, bossy..”

He reaches down and picks up the broken eggshell ever so delicately. Like it’s precious. Because it is. To him.

“This is an eggshell from the first time you cooked me breakfast here,” Sonic explains simply, glancing to Shadow for his reaction.

Shadow’s tense form seems to relax a bit at that, curiosity taking over his defensiveness as he tilts his head and looks at Sonic, “You… kept the eggshells??” “Well– yeah? Dug them out of the garbage after I ate.” “...Why??”

“I dunno,” Sonic shrugs, looking at the eggshell fondly, “Never had someone cook me breakfast before. Not outside Tails, anyway, and he don’t count.” Shadow hums at this, pondering this information a moment before nodding his head as if to say ‘continue’. Sonic puts the eggshell back and picks up the crumpled up napkin.

He unfolds it and shows Shadow, “Okay. So this doesn’t look special, but if you look super close, you can see tiny hearts and ‘S’ indents pressed from your claw all over it. We were on a date, and I noticed you kept fiddling and drawing invisible picture with your finger on your napkin. So I grabbed it before we left to look later..” Shadow points to a orange stain on the side, “What’s that??” “Oh. Spaghetti sauce,” Sonic chuckles with a fond grin, “You’re a very clean eater, but no one can eat spaghetti and not get a little messy.” Shadow nods at this in silent agreement, watching Sonic put the napkin back in the box before picking up the next item. “This is the fishing hook from the first time you and I went fishing with Big,” Sonic explains, “It was your idea not long after the Time Eater fiasco. I wasn’t too keen on it since I’m not a fan of being on a rowboat in the water, but I wasn’t gonna discourage you from making new friends. I ended up falling in the water and panicking at one point only to stand up once I realized it was shallow. You laughed so damn hard, I’ve never seen you looking so relaxed and open around someone else.”

Next item. “This is actually from Cream,” it’s a picture drawn in crayon of Sonic and Shadow holding hands with big smiles, Cream off to the side in a white dress, “She um–” he clears his throat awkwardly, “She said she was our flower girl.. I thought it was funny. You thought it was sweet.” Shadow doesn’t say anything about this, and Sonic puts it away quickly before continuing on to the next item. 

A tiny stuffed banana wearing a cowboy hat Shadow won Sonic at a carnival.

Shadow’s comb he left at Tails’ house once.

A feather that Knuckles had braided into Shadow’s quills at a traditional gathering on Angel Island.

The first book Shadow ever gave Sonic, ‘Floriculture: How To Speak Flower’ complete with a pressed lavender inside bookmarking the page on how they represent ‘devotion’.

Magnets of all the places they’ve traveled together.

A rock Sonic picked up the day he found Shadow.

All these things that would seem so silly to most, Sonic has stowed away as prized possessions in this box.

Shadow sits quietly, listening as Sonic explains each one with the brightest smile on his face.

And when he’s done, Shadow’s eyes lift to find Sonic looking teary eyed despite his smile.

Shadow doesn’t show any signs of concern, but his eyes are sympathetic..

“And uh, yeah,” Sonic smiles, closing the box up and pretending he isn’t getting a bit sniffly, “That’s about it.”

“...Why do you keep these things??” Sonic shrugs, “I dunno,” he sniffles a bit and blinks his tears away, “Helps me feel better when I’m sad.” “They’re making you cry right now.” “I’m not crying.” “Yes, you are.”

“Anyway, I just.. miss my Shadow. That’s all.”

Shadow frowns at this, looking at Sonic a long moment with wonder in his eyes. He’s never seen Sonic look so.. sincere. He didn’t realize he was so sentimental.. Or that he could ever care so much about something like this..

Sonic takes a breath then looks at Shadow, “Look. I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. And I know I overstepped. But you gotta understand.. This is all scary for me, too..” Shadow blinks. Never heard Sonic admit to being scared. And the earnestness in Sonic’s eyes throws him off a bit. Leaves him questioning a lot..

But most of all, it leaves him having empathy for the blue blur.

“...I apologize for making this all about me,” Shadow mutters after a pause, and it’s Sonic’s turn to look thrown off. “I rightfully am overwhelmed with all of this, but in that overwhelment, I didn’t stop to fully consider how this is affecting you.. I pieced together your relationship with your Shadow pretty early on, and yet I still excused it as more of a joke to you rather than something serious..”

He looks at the closed box. “I now see I was mistaken..”

Shadow understands loss. And he understands how scary the idea of never seeing someone you love again is..

He also remembers how he felt when he had seen Maria again in the White Space… the false hope it would give him despite knowing she wasn’t his to keep..

Sonic is going through that same thing every time he looks at Shadow.. He misses his own.

And despite how disgusted or confused it makes Shadow to think any version of himself could possibly be with that insolent hedgehog.. It is the reality here in this world. And he can’t dismiss that simply because it’s not his own.

Sonic is quiet a long pause, looking at Shadow like he’s thinking something over..

And then he’s smiling. And before Shadow can process what’s happening, he feels strong, long arms wrapped tight around him and soft, tan fur pressed to his chest. 

Sonic is hugging him.

Shadow tenses up briefly… never having been hugged by anyone since Maria..

Most are too intimidated for such a thing..

And rightfully so..

And yet, every fiber of Shadow’s Ultimate being was vibrating with ecstasy at the touch.. A sense of comfort immediately swelling over him as he gradually relaxes against Sonic’s hold. He didn’t realize just how touch-starved  he really was. It wasn’t so bad when he allowed it..

He slowly lifts a hand to gently rest on the blue hedgehog’s back just under his quills. 

And while no one sees it except that half blown away moon gazing through the window, Shadow smiles.

[queeniesblog]

Desires of The Heart and Body

Pairing: Z x Carmi(Fem Favor!OC)

Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: Smut

Synopsis:

Thankfully, Z grabbed Carmi's chin and forced her to look directly into his heated eyes. Oh how beautiful they were, she lovingly sighed in silence. Swirls of shimmering gold, crimson as red as rubies and a dash of violet beneath a mess of soft hair hypnotically entranced her, keeping Carmi hanging off of the demon’s every word.

“Do not,” Z growled, glaring down at the dark skinned woman as his tail began to curl around her throat. “Even think about those humans in my presence. Not your pathetic little friends, not your insignificant little ex, and definitely not that sniveling, annoying blue haired idiot.”

Carmi could feel herself trembling, but not from fear. Oh, never from fear. But she wished that it was, for fear would be a far less shameful emotion to have at this moment.

‘Jesus, sweet Jesus,’ Carmi silently prayed to a god she knew would not listen. ‘Please, please, please, do not let this man find out how attractive his voice is. I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Notes: Welcome to the first fanfic I have for planned for the VN Favor! Before the story starts, I would like to give a special shoutout to @concreteparasite for not only creating Z, but also developing this amazing VN that will NOT leave my head. I also would like to give another massive shoutout to zackvalence for absolutely killing this VA role and really bringing Z to life. And finally, I would like to give a big, big shoutout to @winged-self-indulgence for helping me, inspiring me and giving me the courage to actually publish this massive fic. Diya if it wasn't for you I wouldn't have the balls to post this. Please enjoy!

AO3 Link

“...finally I gave up and recommended some simple tips to get better rest: don’t ingest caffeine or alcohol, avoid any tech when getting ready for bed, try lowering the room temperature… You know, things like that.” Carmi’s dark eyes flickered to her drink as she remembered the conversation that took place earlier in the day with her creepy coworker at the movie theater they both worked at. It was already bad enough that Alvin just couldn’t(or wouldn’t at this point) take the hint and give up on his crush on her. A crush that was unreciprocated as Carmi had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who she had told everyone about multiple times. A boyfriend who made her happy. A boyfriend who was…

Listening to her story about her day at this very instant.

“Then I told him if all that didn’t work, then he should just hit up his GP and ask about using some zolpidem or eszopiclone.”

“Hmph.” Z’s face, which was usually a mixture of adorably cute and devilish handsome, had scrunched up in annoyance at the mention of her human co-worker. The demon made no efforts to hide his intense dislike of Alvin. But then again, it didn’t appear to be personal as Z didn’t seem to like anyone in her “friend group”. Maybe that was a red flag. Or, it would be if Carmi didn’t also start to carry an ever growing dislike of her supposed ‘friends’. 

“You should have left him to suffer his fate. That would have been much more entertaining.” Z seemed to perk up at the thought of Alvin having to suffer multiple sleepless nights. Dizzy, disoriented and having to endure splitting headaches every single waking moment. As tempting as it was to ignore Alvin and leave him to suffer, Carmi was worried about him. Not because she cared about her co-worker(quite the opposite really) but more so, concerned that if his mental state deteriorated any further, there was no telling what Alvin could do. As easy as it was to simply wave off Alvin of being incapable of committing horrible actions due to his personality alone, it was better safe than sorry. Carmi would rather deal with a minor annoyance now, than a massive problem later.   

“Hmm.. at least he has good tastes in candies.” Carmi rolled the strawberry bon-bon between her dark fingers. At least helping people sometimes had its perks. Even if Alvin was an annoying, creepy, incel of a stalker, at least he had a general idea of what she liked. “It's one of his few redeeming qualities.”

“Few?” Carmi could already hear Z’s unspoken question of ‘He has ANY redeeming qualities?’

“I mean, as much as I don’t personally like the guy, Alvin isn’t the worst person I’ve had to work with…” Carmi thought long and hard about the many group projects she had to endure in her younger school days. Unfortunately, being the quiet kid with the best grades often meant that her classmates were going to be as useful as a broken candy coated jizz-filled condom.

“He pulls his weight, he doesn’t do things that would get me in trouble, and when I ask him to do something, he does it.” Carmi listed off, oblivious to the demon’s growing ire. “Yeah… he’s not a bad partner at all.”

Carmi swirled the chilled brandy around, as if the sound of the liquid hitting against the glass would help calm her thoughts. Carmi had been in romantic relationships before- first with Jay and then her recent ex, Xander. Feeling sexual desires for another wasn’t new territory for her, hell, even having sex wasn’t. But she had never felt it with such intensity, such ferocity . It was as if the make-out session Carmi had shared with the fiend had unlocked some sort of floodgate. When they were together, it was bad enough, but at least Carmi could distract herself with the endless entertainment that Z provided. He was very good at distracting her from her problems after all.

When they were apart however?

The dark skinned woman knew from the moment that she looked for Z’s adorable dimple whenever he smiled, that she was done for. And unsurprisingly, her hypothesis had been one-hundred percent correct. Whenever the two could not be around each other, it was like utter agony . All she wanted to do was spend time with Z, or talk and text him to see how he was doing when they couldn’t be hanging out. It had even affected her emotionless persona at her job. If there was any time that Carmi didn’t need to use her brain on the job, she would simply sigh and mentally moan about how much better it would be if Z was with her, or she with him. In the back of her head, all Carmi could constantly think about was her boyfriend- his shit eating smile showing off his sharp teeth and split tongue, the smell of whiskey and smoke that curled around his body, his dangerously honey sweet voice, his eyes, his memorizing eyes…

Carmi mentality slapped herself aside the head. She was becoming too clingy. This way of thinking was downright creepy and had gotten to such a bad point that Carmi had bought a black silk choker with an oval shaped pendant. But not just any necklace. No, it was a gorgeous fire stone opal that shimmered beautifully, with the same colors of Z’s eyes. It had cost her a pretty penny too- but when she had first seen it while window shopping on one of her few off days, it was like the dark skinned woman had blacked out. Before Carmi could even register what was going on, the bagged and paid for necklace was already in her hand with the shopkeeper waving her goodbye. She resisted the urge to kick herself as she quickly strode her way back home. Why, why had she done that?! 

Carmi's eyes flickered to the agitated demon as she once again stewed over her thoughts. No, she knew why she had bought the damn necklace. She hated to admit it but… the thought of wearing something that subtly showed just who she belonged to sent a pleasant tingling chill down her spine. God, that was so embarrassing to admit. It was even more embarrassing to admit she was wearing the dang thing! Not that Z had made the connection thankfully. Or… did she want him to notice? A non-verbal symbol of her devotion to him. Would Z like it if they had known just how badly she wanted to be marked by him…?

The small candy felt warm in her hands. Carmi didn’t feel like eating the sweet, nor answering any of the questions she had asked herself. Besides, the woman could see how annoyed her companion had gotten at the mention of her coworker. 

“Uhhh, I don’t really want to eat any sweets right now.” Carmi placed the candy on the table in front of the fiend. She didn’t want to risk touching him, as any physical contact might have emboldened her to ask Z if he wanted to grope her ass or chest. “You can have it if you want-” 

Z swiftly flicked the candy across the table and onto the floor. Or rather, attempted as Carmi quickly intervened, blocking the action with her hand. The strawberry bon-bon rolled pitifully onto the floor.

“Z… why would you do that?”

“It had a bug on it.” Z lied. Carmi sighed and narrowed her eyes at the demon as she pointed a finger at him.

“Listen Z. I don’t know what type of demonic mumbo jumbo you have going on where literally no one reacts to our presence,” Carmi started to lower herself to receive the abandoned candy. “But I was raised to always clean up after myself when I went out to eat. It is never okay to leave a mess!”

“Really now?” Carmi couldn’t see all of Z’s face, but she could practically hear his eyebrow raising. She thought about what she said a bit more as she hummed thoughtfully.

“Hmmm… not really, no. They were pretty abusive to the waiter staff now that I think about it.” Carmi rested her chin on the table. “Not the point though. I always clean up any mess that I make.” 

“Awww, look at you being such a good girl Carmi.” Z cooed as if she was an adorable pet. A tiny shiver nearly ran through her body but she suppressed the sensation. She was getting quite good about doing that around Z now. 

‘Yeah, I’ll be your good girl any day of the week.’ Carmi thought to herself. 

“Haha, yeah! Right back at you, your highness!” Carmi nervously laughed as the woman practically dove underneath the table to hide the blood rushing to her face.

‘Right back at you? RIGHT BACK FUCKING AT YOU?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!’ The urge to slam her head on the wall in frustration was immense. ‘WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY THAT?!’

She wanted Z so, so incredibly badly that at this point, it was making her look fucking stupid. And even though it caused her spikes of shame to run rampant throughout Carmi’s body, it did nothing to rein in the borderline animalistic urges she felt towards the demon. The thoughts about Z couldn’t be stopped at this point.

But… would she want them to stop?

True, it had become difficult for Carmi to rein in her lustful urges. It was if every time she managed to squander one depraved thought about the demon, two more would pop up. They would whisper temptations in her mind, recounting and speculating the possibilities of what could happen if she managed to fuck Z. Each time left Carmi with goosebumps on her dark skin and her feeling like a depraved, dripping mess. But, wasn’t it natural to feel sexual attraction to a romantic partner? Maybe not to this particular degree, but many people had started relationships based on lust and lust alone(they weren’t necessarily good relationships, but that wasn’t the point).   

It wasn’t that she didn’t like being in a relationship with him either. It was in fact, the very opposite. Z had been a breath of fresh air in the piss-filled diarrhea shitstorm that was Carmi’s life. A reprise from all of the worries and fears that plagued her mind. Was it sad to admit that Z had treated her better than anyone else in all of her years alive? Probably, but it wasn't like she had anyone else to tell. The demon was interesting, charming and… surprisingly sweet. He had the ability to distract her from problems she couldn’t immediately fix, or make her laugh so hard that she struggled to breathe. And even when he couldn’t help her with her problems or cheer her up with a joke… Z would just… be there for her. Listen to her worries and offer comfort. They couldn’t fix everything that was wrong in her life, nor did Carmi expect him to. It was the simple fact that he stayed, and supported her that mattered the most. It had felt so foreign and yet so good to know that no matter what, Z had her back, and that she didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

It also didn’t help her that Z was extremely easy on the eyes. Carmi hadn’t even noticed her growing attraction to Z until it was too late. When she had first laid eyes upon him, Z looked… fine. His horns, tail and sharp teeth were such an oddity that it caused her to take a second glance but aside from that, there was nothing particularly notable about him. It was only when Carmi started to grow ever fonder of her demon that she began to take notice of certain features he had. How his brownish black hair curled around his face and horns. Was it always so soft looking? The way that his tail would slow down once the demon was deep in thought was downright adorable. She even took note of how Z even had a cute little dimple on the right side of his face that would appear once he smirked. It was easy to miss, but it was there. Carmi would know considering she stared at it in awe every time it showed. Sometimes, they even gave her cuteness aggression so intense that she just wanted to squeeze him(with both her arms and legs) for the rest of her days. 

In other words, he was stupidly gorgeous.

So why couldn’t she bring herself to finally bang him?

Who was she kidding? Carmi was a terrible flirt and was just as responsible for the lack of intimacy in the relationship as Z. She wanted to, but everytime the opportunity came up, she would just freeze and then laugh it off. And the few times she was bold enough to tease the demon, the courage would disappear faster than her biological parents did once Z retaliated. Why was she like this? She liked Z, she really, really liked him and… Carmi didn’t want to fuck it up somehow.

Suddenly, the idea of hiding underneath the table for the rest of eternity was starting to look very appealing. What if he didn’t like how she looked naked? What if she sounded or said something weird? What if she didn’t pleasure him well enough? So many doubts and worries filled her head that when there was a chance to make a move on him, she restrained herself. But Carmi had needs and was getting desperate at this point. The woman had half a mind to just flash him her fat tits and hoped that it somehow worked out for the both of them.

‘Why won’t you claim me for your own?’ Carmi wanted to ask him. Thinking about Z like that was wrong. But she couldn't help it, and the urges were growing more and more.‘Reach out and take me for yourself? I've dreamed of it. Every single night I have dreamed.’

As her eyes scanned for the discarded candy, Carmi’s thoughts began to wander towards Z once again. She really couldn’t help it. 

Even her own body had become obsessed with him. 

“Fuck…!”

Carmi’s body shuttered and squirmed from the pleasure given to her by her vibrating dildo. Laying on her back, she had one hand on her large chest to play with her tits, twisting and pinching them until they were sensitive. Carmi let out a little whimper as she worked her toy deeper inside with a quiet squelch. What she really wanted to feel was Z sliding two of his fingers deep inside, jackhammering her abused hole. Wanted him to rip off her lacy panties and cram his fat cock inside her, use her like a fleshlight while he moaned about how good she felt. As Carmi got closer and closer to her climax, her brain provided her with new scenarios about Z and she thrusted the toy in deeper.

…Her shoulders on the blanketed floor and her holes pointed up, legs bent as Z furiously pounded into her practically limp body. The position would make Carmi feel vulnerable, exposed and she would love every second of it. Z felt so big and hot that it would feel like her body was melting from the numerous creampies her lover had already so graciously provided her. 

Carmi would then tense up as she reached her own orgasm, the action making the overflowing cum in her twitching hole be pushed out. More and more large pearly droplets would drooled down to hit her bunched-up hem and splashed onto her panting chest with each thrust…

…Or maybe she should ‘conveniently’ forget her panties and spread her legs wide while she wore a shorter dress? That would have to get Z’s attention. Besides, Carmi would love to see the look on his face when  the little fiend had an unrestricted view of her leaking entrance, relaxed and flushed with arousal at their next meetup. The alcohol provided by the bar and the thrill of the exhibition would provide her with all the courage she would need. What would Z do when they noticed? Would he fuck her right there and then on the table…?

No, she should keep the underwear. After all, the idea of Z masturbating while pointing his cock at her crotch so he could cum inside her underwear would get her so hot and bothered. She’d lift up the hem of her dress and hold them between her teeth to better expose her cunt and breasts, just for him. Carmi would love to see Z furiously stroking his cock to the sight of her exposed pussy, flushed and panting like he was a dog in heat. But the feeling of the lashings of pearly cum on her bare mound would feel so much better. Yes… Carmi would love to have something she could feel on her lips all day. Especially if it was from Z…

…Large and heated hands would slip through the spaces between Carmi's arms and firmly gripped her heavy chest at home. A hot mouth settling in the gentle slope between the back of her neck and her shoulder, beginning to leave a trail of kisses and nips in their wake. Carmi would moan and reached back to grasp the demon’s body and horns for support. She’d bet that she would be able to feel his erect cock sliding between her thighs, and grinding himself between her dripping sex as his tail curled around her waist. 

Fuck, she would give anything to have Z swipe his harden shaft through her lips and bump the bottom of her clit, pace growing in intensity as they both reached their peaks. She would flex her thighs around his dick as they both came. Z would be able to feel her tremble with an orgasm of her own, her pussy spasming on top of his cock and she wanted to feel Z slamming his hips against her ass a final time as he spurted rope after rope of hot cum onto her waiting hands in turn. After all, she couldn’t allow a single drop of Z’s load be wasted…

…The two locked in a passionate embrace, Carmi on her back, ankles locked around the demon’s hips, while Z was mounting her, thrusting deeply and drinking Carmi’s ecstatic noises with a deep kiss. He’d hold her in his arms and moan lovingly in her ear about how she was made for him, nobody could take her from him and how they were meant to be-   

Carmi rode out her climax with a wail of pleasure, imagining it was Z who was bringing her to completion instead of some large silicone toy. After regaining control over her labored breaths, the heated pleasure that she felt turned into an icy bath of shame that washed over Carmi. What did she just do?  She had just felt so lustful and pent up in the moment that she… 

The reality of what had occurred set in and she felt something well up in her flushed body. Not shame, but frustration. Even though Carmi had orgasmed, it brought her little relief from the burning well of desire within her. It didn’t seem to matter if she fucked a plethora of people or pleasured herself with the newest sex toys, the end result would be the same. The feeling of being unfulfilled as all she could think about was Z.

Z, giggly and ecstatic as her dog licked his cheek. Z, warm and relaxed under the soft light of the bar. Z, annoyed and adorable as he lost their numbers game. Carmi wanted to love Z, be loved by Z, make love with Z, Z, Z, Z -

The glint of a shiny candy wrapper caught Carmi’s gaze, pulling her away from the depths of her memories. Great. Now she was kind of horny. Again . Back to square one. Crawling towards the strawberry bon-bon as it(ironically) laid near Z’s boots, Carmi slipped it into her jacket pocket. She’d make sure to throw it away when she’d return home. Or maybe she should find a trash bin here…? Carmi really didn’t want her dog to go looking for a forbidden treat that came with a trip to the vet. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even need to smell it. He'd just assume the young woman had something on her and start searching. Carmi blamed Z for that.

‘Okay, now I just need to… to…’ Carmi’s thoughts trailed off as she realized what position she was in. She was nearly touching the demon’s knees and past his thighs was his…

‘NO!’ Carmi mentally yelled at her brain. She wanted to force it back on track and never mention this day again. ‘ Stop it! We can’t be weird!’

But it was too late as her head had heard the name ‘Z’ and lost all ability to reason with logic. Carmi couldn’t get a good sight on his bulge from where she was, but it looked like it was on the larger size. What did he sound like when he was being pleasured? Carmi already found Z’s voice to be lovely, but she knew it would sound even better if he was whimpering from overstimulation. Was his cum more watery or was it thick and creamy? Oh, she hoped he cummed buckets. Carmi would be willing to bet money that Z giving her a nice and deep creampie would feel utterly amazing . Orgasming was the best part certainly, but Carmi liked to enjoy the tension and journey of reaching her high. Would the fiend be a selfish lover? She couldn’t imagine it, considering Z had been surprisingly so attentive to her needs. The hot, weighted feeling of her lust for Z sunk down the bottom of her stomach as she squeezed her aching thighs. For a single second, Carmi even wondered how he tasted …

Suddenly, as quick as a viper, Z’s tail wrapped itself around Carmi’s dry throat, pulling her closer to him. Despite its slim appearance, the thing was just as strong as any other part of his body, and it didn’t stop until her head was practically on one of Z’s thighs. He was already man spreading, so Carmi tried really hard not to think about the position she was in. 

Key word “tried.”

‘DO NOT LOOK AT HIS DICK PRINT CARMI.’ She was practically screaming in her head at this point, begging her brain to listen to her just this one time. ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT FUCKING LOOK AT IT. HE WILL NEVER LET US LIVE IT DOWN IF WE GET CAUGHT STARING.’   

Thankfully, Z grabbed Carmi's chin and forced her to look directly into his heated eyes. Oh how beautiful they were, she lovingly sighed in silence. Swirls of shimmering gold, crimson as red as rubies and a dash of violet beneath a mess of soft hair hypnotically entranced her, keeping Carmi hanging off of the demon’s every word.

“Do not,” Z growled, glaring down at the dark skinned woman as his tail began to curl around her throat. “Even think about those humans in my presence. Not your pathetic little friends, not your insignificant little ex, and definitely not that sniveling, annoying blue haired idiot.”    

Carmi could feel herself trembling, but not from fear. Oh, never from fear. But she wished that it was, for fear would be a far less shameful emotion to have at this moment.

‘Jesus, sweet Jesus,’ Carmi silently prayed to a god she knew would not listen. ‘Please, please, please, do not let this man find out how attractive his voice is. I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Carmi was so entranced by his voice, that it took her a second to register what Z had said. Instantly, whatever spell over her had broken and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock.

“I’m not, and I’m borderline offended that you think that I would be thinking about that creep!” Carmi scoffed. She also wanted to roll her eyes, but she squashed the urge down. Honestly, she was more confused than anything. What on earth would Z have gotten the idea that the one she was thinking about was Alvin?

“Demon, remember?” Z tapped their horns, silver rings shining brightly. Carmi frowned, looking up at them, confusion swirling in her head. Why was Z bringing that up now? It wasn’t like it was hard to forget that he was a fiend from the literal pits of hell. What did that have to do with situation at all-

Oh. Oh.

Carmi felt heat flushing to her face for the second time that night. Z could have probably sensed how… excited she was getting underneath the table, which was extremely embarrassing. But that still didn’t answer the question of why Z mentioned her co-worker specifically . Was it something Carmi had said? She had mentioned a few things she thought were good about him, sure, but every other single time the guy was brought up, her distaste for him was clear as day. That was even if Carmi brought up Alvin at all, which she rarely ever did.     

“Z, Alvin is not the cause of this!” Carmi hissed. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as she tried to stutter out a response. “I-it’s…”

“Hmmm?” 

Her face was practically on fire at this point. Why wouldn’t she just spit out the truth? Carmi thought about it, confessing about… everything she had been feeling. The insides of Carmi’s guts churned as if they were the deep, oily waters of a terrifying storm. She did want him in that way, lord knows she couldn’t stop thinking about it. So why hadn’t she? Z was kind, he was funny, he was sweet… they were practically the perfect boyfriend, even if they loved to ramble on about arson. His many odd quirks just made him all the more charming. Carmi felt her heart let out an affectionate squeeze. She loved him. And insecurities be damned, she was going to show it.

In an instant, Carmi made up her mind. She was finally going to fuck Z.

Trying to calm herself before she fell into an anxiety fueled breakdown, Carmi looked straight at Z.  

Z stared at her.

She stared at Z.

The flat spade shaped tail began to lightly slap Carmi on the forehead and nose. 

“Hey-wait! Z, cut it ou- will you stop?!?” She spat out, her eyes closed as Z promptly ignored what she said. Without thinking, Carmi snapped her teeth forward and caught Z’s spade shaped tail in between her fangs. Immediately, Z let out a rough, pitchy gasp that ended in a grunt from the back of the throat, as if he was fighting the urge to moan fully. 

Carmi nearly dropped the tail in pure shock. The gravity of the situation dawned on the heavyset woman and a mixture of fear and arousal combining themselves as one, twisting and squirming as it resided in her stomach. Did she really just put his tail in her mouth? Z had told her(albeit it was under his breath) she could if she wanted to, and god she did. The idea of finally being able to see Z in such a state again only made her heart pound faster. 

“Aww, Dove . Do you need me to fill up your mouth that badly?” Z cooed, a beautiful red blush spreading upon his face. She was amazed that such a tiny action had such a profound effect on him. “If you’re truly that desperate, I can make sure that you put that sweet little tongue to good use.” 

“Yeah, I am.” Carmi bluntly replied. “Can I suck you off Z?���

It was Z’s turn to look dumbfounded once he realized that the woman was serious, clearly not expecting his teasing to work this time. It didn’t stop him from excitedly nodding his head though. Oh fuck, if a simple touch was enough to have her fighting the urge to ask the demon to feel her up with his large, warm hands, then seeing Z leap at the chance for a BJ nearly had her naked on the table with her legs spread from the entrance of the bar to the fire exit. Carmi had to fuck him. Right now.

The stem was nearly as thick as a finger, smooth like rubber, and pleasant against her tongue. Taking the feeling of Z’s hand cradling her head as a more intimate invitation to continue, Carmi lapped the tip in between her teeth. It pressed against her lips and the woman lovingly gave a very light kiss before allowing her lips to part, her tongue dragging it into her maw. Again, Z huffed out a long groan. Her mind spun into a daze. Slowly, gently, Carmi dragged the demon’s tail deeper into her hot mouth. She rubbed it against the roof of her mouth as she could feel it pulsating with Z’s quickening heartbeat. 

Flicking and lapping circles around the piece of flesh, Carmi made a show of sucking on it. The more the woman lavished the fiend’s tail with attention from her tongue, the more Z would let out delicious sounds that started to drive her insane as he thrusted his tail deeper until it hit the back of her throat. Hearing their breathy moans, no doubt enjoying the affection she was giving him, had caused Carmi to become bold enough to feel up his cock. 

Instantly, the woman could feel him harden underneath her touch, could see the swell of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants from her presence. Hot excitement flooded her stomach and she could feel drool pool into her mouth. Swallowing thickly, Carmi’s dark hand quickly unbuttoned his black jeans and once again she felt him stir beneath her touch. Feeling bolder by the second, Carmi’s mouth leaned forward to Z’s pants and slowly, carefully, began to unzip his pants with her mouth.

Finally, Z’s cock sprung free as he was already half-hard, nearly hitting her in the face. A circumcised penis that was much like his fingers, long, thick, and turned black with a red crown. Dribbling precum in her soft hands, Carmi noted that it curved up slightly, in a way that was designed to attack that sensitive spot.

Carmi also noted that it was stupidly fucking massive.

‘What the FUCK?’ Why the hell is he so damn BIG?!’ Carmi asked herself, an incredulous tone weaving itself in her internal dialogue. It wasn’t just the length, but the thickness of it too. Though she felt a spike of panic bolt through her body, Carmi’s outward expression did not visibly change. Could she really take Z’s cock…? Carmi thought back to the many, many toys of differing sizes and shapes hidden in her apartment. If she was horny enough with some good prepping… eh. She probably could. But in the mouth was a different ball game entirely. It wasn’t as if Carmi had been practicing how to take a massive cock down her throat just in case she had the opportunity to suck Z off.

Well.

Maybe she had… but that wasn’t the point! Blowing a dildo was much different than giving one to a person made of flesh and blood. How the fuck was she going to fit this thing in her mouth? She really wanted him to feel good too… Maybe if she had a few more weeks of training her throat underneath her belt, Carmi would be less hesitant.

‘Well… I’ve got to see this through. I’m not backing down now.’ Carmi thought to herself.  She was NOT going to go another day without dick. ‘I wanted to fuck Z, so I’m gonna fuck Z.’

Using just one hand and a whole bunch of lust filled courage, Carmi started to stroke him and palmed the demon’s cock as pre-cum dripped out, running in sticky ribbons alongside the veins of his shaft. Her cameo patterned off-shoulder dress had exposed her large chest, and the bottom of it had begun to ride up her thighs, revealing her wet panties. Even though the thought of Z shooting a nice and large load of hot cum onto her heated flesh made her hornier than she’d like to admit, Carmi did mean what she had said earlier. 

She always cleaned up any mess that she made.

Carmi slowly let her half-lidded eyes fall shut as she parted her plump lips so that she could kiss the head of Z’s hardening cock. 

Hearing the demon take a sharp intake of breath, she began to lovingly pepper small kisses all around the tip. Her steady wanting had quickly evolved into a lustful ache. Carmi wanted to take his hardened shaft in her mouth and feel him slide down her throat. How would it feel to have Z make her jaw ache and her dark eyes water? To feel the shake of his thighs, to hear his moans when he filled her mouth? The heavyset woman was very eager to find out. 

Once Carmi was sure that she had smooched every single bit of the fiend that she could see, she opened her mouth a little wider and sucked on his leaking tip. Rubbing her tongue across his sensitive head, Carmi could hear a stuttering gasp once again catch in Z’s throat. Her tongue licked a hot stripe over their slit as her dark hands began to pump his cock.  

“Thaaaat’s it Dove.” Z rasped out. The larger woman could feel the hand cradling her head tense tightly, sharp nails touching her scalp. “Go on, open up your throat for me.”

Resuming her task with renewed vigor, the eager woman began to run her hot tongue all over his throbbing shaft, licking and slurping at his cock. Then she began to sweep with long moist strokes as she sped up her hands. Lavishing his dick with eager attention, the more effort Carmi put into her blowjob, the hungrier she became. While she was excited for the demon to shoot cum in her mouth, Carmi was in no real hurry as she was pleasantly enjoying the experience of sucking Z off underneath the table.

“Aww, look at you go.” Z practically cooed through the breathless groans of pleasure. ”Such a good human. My good human.”

The excitement from having Z praise her had her body shivering from the anticipation, and her mouth felt just as hot as her clit. She focused on the heat of his stomach, the faint taste of his skin. The scent of smoke and whiskey to spur her on. Pressing her lips against the hairy base of his shaft, the woman could feel his cock oozing precum all the way down her hungry throat and Carmi moaned, the vibrations of her muffled cries had Z becoming louder, groaning in pleasure. His warm hands reached out to her face and stroked it tenderly, lovingly , as Carmi looked up at him, tears welling up from her dark eyes.

“Fuck…! Your mouth feels so damn good sweetheart.” Z was practically panting at this point. “You’re trying so hard to get me all the way down…”

At this point, Z had taken a more… active role. Grabbing her head to guide her mouth on his cock, Carmi simply followed the demon’s lead, licking and sucking as they tangled their claws in her muti-colored hair. Slowly and steadily, Z began to guide her head up and down until he was gently face fucking her, using Carmi’s mouth as nothing more than a glorified fleshlight.

And something about that turned her the hell on.

Carmi wanted Z to use her to reach his own orgasm. She wanted him to throw his head back and shamelessly moan as he emptied himself in her mouth. But most of all, Carmi wanted Z to stroke her face in the same loving manner he had done so before, all while staring down at her with the loveliest pair of heated eyes she had ever seen.     

Carmi shuttered, waves of pure lust raced through her heated body as Z began to speed up his pace. His thrusting became more erratic and wild, body tensing up and the woman trembled in anticipation as much as the demon did. Z’s release was rapidly approaching and she couldn’t wait to finally taste him. Following his lead, Carmi began to pump and suck to match his tempo, her soft lips were slick with his pre-cum, making it easy for her to glide them up and down his shaft.

Z suddenly let out a choked curse as ropes of hot cum hit the back of her throat, Carmi stiffened and pushed down the urge to gag. As her lover continued to thrust his dick into her mouth, Carmi kept sucking voraciously as she gulped down everything their body provided. There was so much more than the woman expected, almost too much. But when the spurting seemed to slowly die down, Carmi practically nursed on the demon’s cock, milking out every last drop of their cum as used her hands to stroke his shaft.

She pulled her mouth away and his black and red cockhead bobbed up and down before her face. Carmi licked her lips and opened her mouth. She wanted to show him how she had drunk every single drop. 

“Did I do a good job?” Carmi asked with a slur in her voice, drunk on the taste of him. Of Z.

The demon was practically caressing her face. She leaned into his loving touch as Z pulled her up. Carmi had become entranced by the way their bodies moved so smoothly in sync. Placing one knee on each side of his legs, the woman slid on top of Z and sat herself snuggly onto his lap, right where she belonged. Through dark, half-lidded eyes, Carmi spread her thighs to encourage Z to have access. Her body was filled with both shame and arousal, and eager for more of his touch.

But Z had never felt shameful and wasn’t going to now, especially with how his human was practically moaning in his lap. Z grabbed her ass and guided Carmi flush against them, her chest to their and her legs parted just enough to straddle their hips. Pulling her in close, their slick tongues slid against each other, hot and insistent, before disappearing into the other’s mouth in a heated french kiss. Z bucked upward against her covered entrance, grinding their throbbing cock against the spot that was dripping wet.  

Carmi moaned into the kiss as she felt a rippling thrill run down through her belly and swirled in waves in her crotch. She could feel her engorged clit. The woman pitifully writhed her body in sync with Z’s, their hips moving against each other, allowing her to relish in the delicious friction. The persistent wet sounds of lips and tongues had left her pussy throbbing with desire and brain a scrambled mess. But she wanted more, no, she needed more.

“Z, I need you… Please?” Carmi tried to whimper as softly as she could. Squeezing Z’s hand before she intertwined with her own(or tried to anyway. She loved how small she felt when her body was near his), Carmi guided it between her breasts where the demon could feel her pulsating heart, slid it down below her quivering belly, and didn’t stop until his hot, black tipped hand was cupping her already dripping slit.

“After all this, of course you're soaked.” Z retorted. The demon didn't hesitate for a second as he pressed two fingers against Carmi’s swollen clit. “Nothing gets you off like being my personal little cum dump, hmmm?”

A jolt of pleasure shot through her body as the demon rubbed her heated mound with their fingers and restless movements, bringing forth a delicious, pulsing warmth into existence. Her body felt empty, as if she wanted something to plunge deep inside her core. As if the demon could read her mind, Carmi could feel Z’s hot fingers sliding down from her clit to the entrance of her hole, rubbing and teasing it before sinking two thin but long fingers in. Her juices were so plentiful that Z’s fingers slid in with ease. The palm of his hand slammed against her pussy, with juices dripping down onto his palm with each thrust.

Soft, pliant, and imbued with a sense of lust and desperation, the two kissed the other over and over with growing wetness and force. Breaking one of their heated kiss left Carmi whining at the loss of contact. Z kept one large and heated hand on her thick waist with the other fingerbanging her. The demon, forward as ever, left an open mouthed kiss to her collarbone and began to suck, most likely intending to leave a bruise. Carmi let out another breathy sigh.

“Z… Can we go back to your place…?” Carmi whispered in his ear, praying that she wouldn’t have to have their first time together on a bar table. Not because she was embarrassed, but more so the thing looked uncomfortable to get fucked on. “I don’t want anyone else to see me like this except you.” She trailed her lips on the edge of his helix before biting it for good measure.

Z muttered a “c’mere” underneath their breath as they grabbed her thighs and picked her up like she weighed nothing, holding her in a way that kept her legs spread wide. Despite not wanting to have a full-blown fucking session in the bar, Carmi couldn’t help herself and squeezed her legs, grinding her clit onto him. She could hear Z grunt in her ear. And for a single moment Carmi felt like she was completely weightless, clinging tightly onto her boyfriend for support as there was an inky blackness that surrounded them- 

The pair of lovers landed softly onto Z’s bed.

There was unmistakable lust in every movement, every flinch, every twitch to their bodies. She moaned and pressed into him more. No matter how close the demon was, would it ever be enough? Carmi wanted to not only hold Z, but to have him bind himself to her soul. The woman wanted to have them intertwine themselves so intensely that they could not ever part, not without losing something integral.

When it was clear he was going to kiss her once more, Carmi didn’t resist. Kissing him back just as passionately, Carmi could barely remember the two throwing their clothes off. Every time they broke apart so Carmi could intake air, another piece of clothing would haphazardly be thrown to the side. She did spot the demon pocketing her thoroughly soaked panties which drove her wild. She’d have to remember to see which ones Z liked the best.

It didn’t take long for the lovers to be completely naked. A tantalizing combination of excitement and arousal pumped through her body. It was really happening, was she really about to have sex with her boyfriend? Carmi didn’t know and for once in her life, she didn’t care either. All Z had to do was lovingly stroke her face and whisper her name with that honey sweet voice of his, and she would fold in an instant. Carmi wanted to feel him, to taste him. To experience the dizzying rollercoaster that was Z with all of his ups and downs.

Carmi’s world shrank to just Z’s embrace as once again, their lips found each other, soft, pliant, and imbued with a sense of lust and desperation. Z eagerly ran his tongue over Carmi’s mouth and vice versa as the two lovers melted into a puddle of needy lust. Moving purely on instinct, Carmi allowed the demon to wrap his warm arms around her soft body and guide her down into the mattress, deepening the kiss while his hand roamed down her arching back. She hooked her thick legs around his hips and locked her ankles, pushing and grinding her crotch against his. He was already rock hard. Carmi could feel it.

‘More.’ Carmi wanted to beg him, her own mind clouded by a sexual fog. Months of pent-up lust had caught flame and was now threatening to boil over. ‘Give me more…!’

But Carmi couldn’t talk. Z was tasting her tongue, licking her lips, and drinking in all of the tiny sounds of pleasure she mewled out. Carmi’s long, black nails dug into his muscular shoulders, threatening to draw blood. They were in their own world and Carmi never wanted to leave it.

Z began to move from her plump lips to her exposed neck, alternating between kisses and nips all the way down until he reached her breasts. He rolled his tongue around them, teasing and sucking the tip of her nipples. They hardened inside his mouth and Z pinched the other one with his finger as Carmi cried out his name again in excitement. Sinking lower, the demon left a trail of kisses and sharp nips down her stomach until he left one directly above her smoldering mound. As Z parted her pillowy thighs, they lowered their head and hungrily gazed down at her leaking slit. Carmi could feel the air as it was sucked in by Z.

Was he… was he smelling her?

He groaned and kept his nose buried against her soaping entrance for a few more moments before he apparently found what he was looking for. Pulling at her dripping folds, the demon spread her pussy wide open with his black tipped fingers, revealing the vulnerable flesh of her throbbing clit. Carmi was amazed at how soft the demon’s lips were as she received a tender kiss to her overheated flesh and then a rough lick with the flat of his tongue that had left her whining for more. 

She was starting to really squirm at this point. Trying her best to keep her eyes on the demon feasting between her legs, Carmi involuntarily throwed her head back in pure, cardinal bliss with a full-throated moan when Z gave her throbbing bud a nice, rough lick. Just like Carmi had suspected, Z felt much better than most of the toys she owned. If this was how good sex felt when they were just using his tongue, Carmi couldn’t wait for the main course.

“S-Shit…! Oh God, Z, your tongue …” She panted out.

Carmi thighs clamped around his head as Z continued their assault.

She grinded herself against his face, shamelessly thrusting into his hot mouth. Z switched between giving Carmi fast attention to her engorged bud, and then slowly fucking her with his dexterous tongue in her clenching hole. The demon fervently drunk up any juices Carmi’s body provided, greedily slurping up every single drop like it was the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. The sounds were lewd and filthy, and did nothing but bring her closer to the edge.

‘Fuck.’ Carmi cursed at Z in her head. The fiend’s oral was making her release noises that no one had made her cry out before. ‘Stupid demon, with his stupid good-looks and his stupidly long tongue-’

“Ahhha-AH!” Carmi’s body curled at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. It seemed that Z’s tongue had found that oh-so-sensitive spot that resided deep within her cunt. She wrapped one hand around one of his red tipped horns and fisted a handful of the demon’s soft locks with the other, as if to gain a sense of control she knew she didn’t have. As she clung onto his horns with her fingers roughly tangled in his wild locks, her hips began to pump. The young woman was quivering and drenching her lover’s maw, grinding her crotch against Z’s hot mouth. 

“Z-Z ! Sl-Ah, AH! Slow down! PLEASE!” Carmi finally managed to let out a high-pitched panting wheeze, but Z made no move to listen to her request. In fact, the demon began to eat her out even faster, devouring her with a vigor unmatched from any of her previous lovers. The woman began to wither and buck to escape the unrelenting pleasure but Z firmly held her in place no matter how hard she tried to escape his grasp. He held on to her hips as she bucked against him, back arching uncontrollably. She continued to let out a mixture of whimpers, moans and pleads that ended in tear-streaked crying as Carmi struggled to keep her head raised enough to watch Z practically make out with her sopping wet mound. Carmi could feel his hot, forked tongue abusing her g-spot, thrusting his tongue in and out of his tight slit, making her clench and tremble in Z’s mouth. She could feel her orgasm approaching closer and closer until the demon suddenly stopped the oral assault on her body.

“Hu-wha..?”  

“You want to tell me who was the one who had you so flustered, Dove?” Z asked with a smirk, but there was no mirth within his eyes. Carmi nearly hit the roof. Was he really asking this now? Couldn’t he have at least finished eating his plate before giving her a random interrogation? 

“I already told you Z, I-I wasn’t thinking about anyone!” Carmi tried to protest, attempting to close her legs. Z forced her dark thighs apart with ease, as they were much stronger than a human could ever hope to be. Carmi hated to admit to herself how hot it was that he could manhandle her like that.

“It’s no use lying to me Dove.” He replied in a singsong voice. Carmi did NOT feel like explaining how Z’s voice nearly made her bust a nut in the bar. The fiend already had so much power over her, they didn't need anymore ammo to bully her with. Besides, what if he found it more creepy than flattering?

“I-I wasn’t thinking about anyone you s-should worry a-about..!” It was technically the truth. But Carmi could see that her vague answer did nothing to placate her lover.

“Fine Dove. If it’s a game you want, it’s a game you’ll get.” Z said, their smirk turned into a downright sadistic grin, their smile showing off his dangerously sharp teeth. Carmi didn’t think she liked where this was going. “Let’s see how long you can last until you’re begging me to let you cum.”  

And he was true to his word. Twice more did Z bring her close to the edge, and twice more did Z deny Carmi release. By the end of his third denial, Carmi had been reduced to a teary, sweaty mess. This was no longer a dream. This was a nightmare.

“Do you want to be a good girl and give me an answer?” Z smugly asked like the little fucking shit he was. This was the guy who had a claim of her mind, body and soul?

“Not. Happening.” Carmi gritted out through clenched teeth.  

Seemingly deciding to change tactics, Z began to push Carmi’s legs closer to her chest, bending her in-half until she felt like a pretzel. 

“I could devour you whole,” Z says gently, and Carmi could feel the heat of his words sinking into her bending body. “And I'd make it so good for you. Won't you let me, sweetheart? You just need to tell me the truth.”

Carmi cursed underneath her breath as she shook her head, hips involuntarily jerking into his touch. Fuck, should she just tell them? She wanted to, but the fear of rejection wrapped their hands around her throat and slicened her. It’d be fine right? Z had to give in at some point.

His fat tip drooled pre-cum and he took it one hand to slap it against Carmi’s already sensitive mound. She flinched at the feeling. The fiend nudged his cock against her throbbing clit once, twice, gathering her leaking juices before dragging it down to the very spot where he could have sunken himself into her warmth.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” Z groaned as they lined themselves up against her entrance. Carmi could feel him using the head of his shaft to part her labia. “When I rub the head of my cock along your slit, it's completely drenched. I bet I could just slide it right in-”

Carmi could feel the stretch, she could feel every throb, every vein, all his thickness filling her. Even her cunt started to squeeze his cock’s head like it was made for this and this alone. But before Z could penetrate her too deep, give her something that she could clench down on, Z would pull himself out.

“Why did you pull out?” Carmi breathlessly whined. “You felt so good …” Even though Z’s hardened cock was resting on her throbbing mound, She could swear she felt it twitch as a response to the question. The heat of their combined lust made her head spin. Holy shit, she was so sensitive that Carmi couldn’t tell if she was going to pass out or cum so hard that she would see heaven. She was leaning towards the former. Z must have sensed that, as he delivered a sharp bite to the back of her leg, determined to keep his human’s attention on them. The nip wasn’t necessarily painful. No, all it did was bring forth a different type of feeling within her body. 

Z wasn’t far enough inside to be able to properly fuck Carmi yet, he’d start to move his hips, giving shallow thrusts as he pulled out slightly and sank himself right back in. The demon was only using his thick cockhead to stimulate her for now, giving her a taste of what she could have if Carmi gave into their demands. And much like receiving a sip of water while abandoned in a desert, the feeling had only been a brief moment of pleasure that, once passed, only left the woman craving more for more. However, with the combination of the fiend’s wandering hands, Carmi was sure that this was the closest she’d been to Hell. Z’s hands, large enough to greedily grab at her breast, pinching and twisting them. The woman wanted to break down in tears, everything felt simultaneously too much and not enough. Z gave her pleasure but never enough to satisfy her, to give her release from the torture of being denied another toe-curling orgasm. Z continued their teasing assault for what felt like hours , until Carmi finally cried out in defeat. 

“It was you!” 

Immediately, the woman could feel Z’s hands freeze up. She could feel the blood rushing to her face as Carmi  tried to remember how to use her mouth and hurriedly spit out an explanation. 

“It’s just that your voice sounds so nice and sometimes when I hear it, I start to think about you saying certain things and I know it’s weird, but sometimes you sound territorial and it, you, sound so good and I…” Her voice got smaller and smaller with each word when she realized what she had confessed to the demon who’s cock was still inside her. “I really… like… hearing it…”

Silence. That was all Carmi heard.

Instantly, she felt a freezing pit drop into her stomach. Holy hell, she fucked up. Oh, she fucked up bad. Why did she say that? Shit. Shit. Shit . Oh, this was it. Z was gonna call her a creepy weirdo, they would never talk to her again and she be left alone-

“You… like my voice…?” Z asked incredulously.

Carmi hesitantly removed her dark hands from her face, peaking at them to see the fiend with his jaw dropped. Z had looked completely gob smacked, as if he would have never in a million years guessed that it was his voice that got her hot and heavy back in the bar. Carmi nodded. 

“Yeah… But that’s not it. Every single time you flirt, or when you show that I can trust you , or e-even when you smile…” Carmi practically murmured. This felt too intense, too intimate , confessing her feelings like this. “Every single part of you drives me insane, Z. Is that really so hard to believe…?” 

“I could feel you getting anxious every time I tried to initiate things, so I assumed that you were too scared of me. Besides,” Z shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Who would ever trust a demon? You’d have to be insane.” 

“I don’t trust other demons. I trust you Z.” She confessed. She had finally spilled everything out and Carmi could feel her face grow hot from not only being exposed physically, but emotionally as well. Oh God, she was rambling again. “And like you. Like, a lot. A concerning amount even-”

Z cut her off with a deep kiss. Immediately, whatever thoughts plagued her mind dissipated when their lips touched. Carmi looked at him with a dazed, lovesick expression as Z pushed her onto her back. How was he always able to calm her down so easily…? Was this what it was like to be in love?                                                                                                        

“Hmm…? Is that right? My voice alone is all it takes for my human to get all worked up…” Once again, Carmi could feel the heat behind his words, the feeling running down her spine and making her walls twitch. 

“Ugh, stop!” Carmi threw a pillow over her head. She wasn’t in love anymore. She was going to strangle him with her bare hands instead. “I knew you were gonna be like this!”

“Stop? How can I?” Z once again grabbed her, their lips meeting once again. She practically moaned as her lover slid his tongue against hers, feeling a rush of pleasure pump throughout her body. There were so many things Carmi wanted Z to do to her, and she to him . “Especially with the way your body is reacting .”

“Z…” The intimate kisses had riled her up all over again. She couldn’t and wouldn’t deny anymore. She was willing to beg for it at this point, shame and insecurities be damned. “Please…!”

“Go on,” Z purred as his tail swissed. His voice had switched from that of a lover to one of a predator that has caught its prey, playing with it to indulge their own sick desires. The cock inside her responded immediately with another pulse. Carmi could feel it. Was Z…  was he fucking getting excited about hearing her beg for it? For him? “All you have to do is ask. Nicely. ”

Her pussy was like a smoldering ember between her pillowy thighs and Carmi nearly let out a sob, tears practically streaming down her face. “Please, please, please fuck me Z. I need to feel you.”

Carmi winced as her lover licked the falling tears from her cheeks as if they were droplets of an expensive spiced wine. Satisfied with her desperate pleads, her lover crawled back on top of her, their combined body weight sinking her into the mattress. The woman could feel her lover kissing her face and neck, sucking on the bite marks they'd left earlier. While they would disappear by the morning, Z would not. Sharp nails sunk into his arms as her boyfriend pushed himself deeper and they let out a moan, and grunt mixed into one. Her heated walls tightened around him reflexively, and she waited for the rest of that delicious stretch.

“Look at you, taking me like you were born for it.” His thrusts were still somewhat shallow, Carmi knew she wasn't taking him all the way, not yet. But her twitching hole was starting to adjust itself to accommodate the great bulk of his shaft as Z pushed himself in again and managed to slowly fuck in and out of her eager entrance. “And to think you’ve wanted this the entire time. You little tease.”

Z’s cock was much thicker than his tongue, less flexible but it filled her up so much better, a sturdy hardness that she could finally clench around so nicely. Carmi almost sobbed as Z withdrew, pulling his long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returned immediately when she whined from the loss. Z felt so good , so warm and so, so big … he was fulfilling her entirely, every bit of Carmi that was empty, every little space that needed his heat was now his and stuffed to the brim.  

“I'm not some- I wasn’t-!" Carmi’s already weak argument ended in a loud gasp as Z reminded her who she belonged to with another good, deep thrust.

“Fuck… I can feel you tightening up, you’re- oh hells, trying to suck me in deeper-”

“Z-Z… ohgod oh fuck–!” Carmi shut her eyes from the intense pleasure, but Z was having none of it. He sunk his dagger like fangs into her leg once again, making sure she was watching his every move.

“Don't you dare look away sweetheart. Keep your eyes on me, just like that…” Carmi shuttered from a mixture of the pleasure of finally being fucked. Z’s honey sweet voice as he mumbled obscenities into her ears, reveling in her tightness, and the way her body fit so perfectly against his. Carmi gasped and cried out from his sudden depth as his cock rutted against a spot that left her absolutely writhing . “I want to see your face when I make you cum.”

Her body felt so weak, twitching, vulnerable and at the mercy to whatever the fiend desired. She tried in vain to hold back her whimpers, but they slipped out of her throat anyway, in a long and constant stream of cries that grew louder and more desperate as Z continued to fuck her. Carmi had tried to pull away from the demon, but she was in no position to do so. She could sense his hungry gaze as Z leaned in close, grinding his hips against hers. Fuck, Carmi could feel every single inch of his throbbing cock inside her spasming walls.

“Z-Z, I c-can’t…!”

“Oh, no, no Dove. You can. I barely even need to grab your hips, your body wouldn't let me go if I tried…” His tail began to rub on her engorged clit and Carmi gave another frantic series of moans from the stimulation. She was practically drowning in pleasure. “Look how badly you want this, sweetheart. Go on, squeeze me tighter. Thaaat’s it Carmi. Good girl.”

Carmi, for her part, could scarcely formulate a coherent thought aside from ‘yes, yes, yes…!’ . She'd put up so many walls, and having them all crumble at once was more than she could really process. She'd been terrified of ruining her relationship with Z, but now, she wanted to kick herself for not giving in and confessing how she felt sooner. Her lover rocked her back to the edge once more. Now Z was fucking his whole massive cock into her pussy with every lunge, burying the shaft so deep that his balls were slapping on her ass. Letting out high pitched whimpers as Z slid his painfully hard cock against a dangerously tender spot, Carmi genuinely couldn’t tell if his loud moaning made the experience better or worse. Z didn’t even try to be quiet, and it was nearly driving her to insanity.

Carmi squealed, breaking away from the kiss, as Z started to fuck Carmi with a frenzy that he’d held back until that moment, spurred on by her cries. The pressure was increasing, more and more.

“Oh Z-FUCK! I’m, I’m…!”

Carmi didn’t even have the chance to prepare herself before her orgasm hit her, juices gushing from her soaked pussy, coating Z in her arousal. Her back arched as her body spasmed while Z continued to fuck Carmi through her high for as long as it lasted. Her pulsating cunt slowly eased itself, leaving behind an overwhelming sensation that was strong enough to cause her legs to twitch. Z could feel her velvety walls clench around him as Carmi’s orgasm left her cunt drooling and pulsing with desire.

Even though she was sensitive from cumming, Z still rutted his fat cock in the whimpering woman. The feeling made her repeatedly squeal with every thrust with desire, surprise, even a little sting of pain. Carmi let out a particularly loud gasping wail when she felt for the first time a rush of hot, thick cum deep inside her. The pleasure was intense and overwhelming as the demon continued thrusted with spurt after spurt of hot cum, moaning as he practically emptied himself in her cunt. Once he was finished, she could see how the demon’s body trembled with the aftershocks of his release, still feeling the remnants of pleasure that washed over them.

Carmi wiggled her shaking legs from under Z and wrapped them around his chest. Maybe it was due to the orgasm he had just had, or maybe he was simply curious on what Carmi planned to do. Either way of thinking led to the same result. With Carmi straddling the demon underneath her. An excitement began to grow in her and she shifted her position so that the growing bulge pressed into her leaking entrance.

“Do you really not know what you do to me…?” Carmi grabbed hold of the length of his cock and rubbed her freshly filled pussy, teasing him. The cock had already become hard again, the head of it entering her. Z was panting at this point, more precum oozing from the tip to lubricate her already wet hole as Carmi began to slowly drop her full weight into his lap, enjoying the sensation of grinding his cock inside her. Taking in a deep breath, the woman fully sank onto him, feeling Z’s pulsating cock inside her once more. She planted her soft hands firmly on his toned torso to help steady her as she huffed and moaned. 

“W-why would I even think about anyone else?” She raised herself up until only his sensitive, hard tip rubbed against her heat and then slammed herself down hard once more.

“Ah!  Ahn!  Ahh-mphf!”  Carmi gasped and huffed delightedly each time she slammed her wide hips down. She could feel her pussy clamp down on Z, trying to keep the demon inside her as all she could do was moan, pant, and cry. The emotions that weld up inside of Carmi were so intense, that it was dizzying. She felt almost lightheaded, with nothing but the feeling of Z’s pulsating cock keeping her grounded. Fuck, why had she been holding back all this time?

“How can I-ngh! Even think of fucking any-Ah… Ah! One else?” Carmi could barely whine out her question. She was going to pound Z into the mattress and milk him for all he was worth, even if it was the last thing she was going to do. “All I think about is you , Z!”

Carmi’s hips began to ride Z’s cock in a frantic, almost frenzied pace and she could hear the absolutely filthy noises their bodies made together, a reminder of just how much Carmi desperately wanted to feel Z’s cum inside her body once more. The sounds of her pleasure reverberating through the room as she was riding him so hard that the bed bounced alongside her. From her plump lips began to spill every single lustful and downright depraved thought she had about the demon in the past few weeks. She professed how handsome he was, how much she desired him, and how much she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She couldn’t help nor even stop herself. It was as if her body had a mind of its own and decided that a confession of her sinful desires while bouncing on Z’s cock was the best course of action.   

“When we were in that bar,” Carmi dragged her sharp nail on his chest, tracing the tattooed sigil and giving Z a devious smile. She really wanted to savor the feeling of the demon’s twitching cock inside her. Her cunt was aching and sensitive, but she didn’t care as Carmi was overcome by the freedom of her giving into her lust. She could cry out Z’s name, could whimper for his cock, could thrash and moan and sob and Carmi wanted to. God, she fucking wanted to. “All I could think about was how I wanted you to fuck me properly until I was stretched out, aching, and sore.”

Before Carmi would spill out anymore of her desires, bare anymore of her soul to him, Z had stuffed his neglected tail in her rambling mouth. She had bitten down on it. Hard.

Carmi immediately wanted to stop and check on the demon to make sure he wasn’t seriously hurt once she realized what she had done. Z may have been an immortal demon that could barely register pain, but Carmi could never forgive herself if she had harmed her lover, accident or not.

She would have done that, had Z not given out the most vocal and sluttiest moan Carmi had ever heard in her life, as he arched his back in pure, cardinal ecstasy.

“Ngh, that feels so good! Do that again, Dove! Harder! ”

Z began to loudly beg and whimper for her, stuttering Carmi’s name in an incoherent babble as they furiously pumped their hips to meet her own brutal pace. His shaft glided in and out of her sweet cunt easily due to the thick load he’d already flooded her with. The louder and more desperate Z got, the more times she would simply stop and squeeze his throbbing cock with her velvety walls, denying him release as the demon had done to her. She wanted to see him weak and whimpering. That would be a lovely sight to behold. 

“Ahh f-fuck Dove! Keep riding me like that! ”

“I c-can’t stop, oh fuck, you feel so–!” Carmi felt the tingling sensation in her lower stomach. Z’s thick, creamy load once again flooded her cunt, and Carmi let out a pitiful, full body keen at the feeling of being so full, pumped so completely. Perverted sounds of pleasure filled the room as the two lovers rode out their collective orgasms together in a scene that was as passionate as it was deprived. Finally, when the last spasm from his cock died out, Z let out a low moan and went into a full body shudder.

By the time she was done riding him, Carmi was unable to do anything but lay upon his warm chest, feeling limp and satisfied as she listened to his racing heartbeat. Her mound still tingled in the aftermath of her climax. She could feel Z’s cum drip sluggishly out of her abused hole and down her thigh. Carmi was exhausted, but also happy and confusingly, dizzyingly in love.

‘I could stay like this forever.’ She thought to herself as she nuzzled the crook of Z’s neck. She breathed in his scent. ‘I wouldn’t mind it. Not one bit.’ The steady beating of Z’s heart, the feel of his caring embrace and snuggling into the warmth the demon’s body provided… Yes, Carmi could stay like this forever and she wouldn’t have blinked an eye. 

But unfortunately, the world had never been kind to Carmi and wasn’t going to start now.

The dark-skinned woman let out an embarrassingly loud and weird sounding yelp as she suddenly found herself on her back. Before Carmi even had a chance to make sense of what was happening, Z was already climbing on top of her body, spreading her legs and looking down at her sweating and flustered form. Though she could not see his eyes, Carmi could feel the heat of their gaze trail hungerly across her body. 

“Uhh… Z?” She nervously giggled, wondering what was going on. “What are you…?”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure that I fulfill every single one of your fantasies tonight to make up for lost time.” Carmi stared up at the demonic entity between her thighs. She could already tell based upon his excited, almost manic smile and unhinged personality, that Z was not kidding.

“Don’t worry Dove,” They practically purred, a toothy grin spreading across their face. Z settled themselves right in between Carmi’s legs, hiking her warm, soft thighs around his waist. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember how to speak, and I’ll keep fucking you until you pass out. Even then, I won't stop. I’m not one to get tired easily , after all,”

Z pressed such a gentle and deceptively innocent kiss on her mouth, that it made Carmi instantly relax and nearly forget the position she was(and going to be) in.

“Oh, me and my big, stupid, horny mouth.’ Carmi thought, already resigning herself to her fate. ‘Well, it was nice being able to walk when I could...’

[arkiliastuff]

Prologue - In a Concrete Jungle

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : I thought about this one for a while and, even though I have a lot of other fanfics that are waiting to be finished/written, I wanted to share this one in particular with you :D It's been on my mind for months, the lore maturing in my head. It's going to be a LOT different from what I usually write but I'm trying things and despite the dark mood in this story I hope you'll enjoy it as well ! :D

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, cyber-futuristic vibe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~The little bean taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw -> ask me if you want to be tagged :D

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

She walked there, in this desolate landscape, with a strong determination. Two girls who seemed to look like her friends were following her, looking behind them briefly. Probably afraid of someone or something that will come after them. After all, they went out without authorization. They went out in this no man’s land, caused by gangs and mafias. Many civilians had perished because of this war. The survivors were hiding underground, in the subway. The reason why they went outside was because one of them, a girl with glasses and blue eyes, forgot her necklace at the church where she always went to pray. So after complaining to her friends about her precious loss, the strong-willed brunette who was among them decided to go and get the necklace back. The two other friends eventually followed her even though they were feeling nervous about disobeying.

“If we hurry, we will be back in no time” She said, trying to reassure her anxious friends.

And so, just like the bold brown-haired girl said, they arrived at the place. The church had been bombed. The two girls felt sad about the destruction, but the leader didn't seem to be moved by it. Instead, she was more focused on her mission, looking for the necklace, while making sure nobody would come to arrest them. She was in hypervigilance, almost looking paranoid. She looked everywhere under the seats and chairs that were still there until she saw something shiny. She reached for it and then wiped the dust on it. It was a crux with a silver chain. 

“I found it, Faith.” She stated, calling for her friend.

The latter one walked towards her, analyzing what she found before realizing what it was.

“It's my necklace ! Thank you so much, Audy !” Faith replied happily, using the usual friendly nickname for her friend.

The latter one just nodded in silence, her focus back on her group and looking for their second friend.

“Where is Daisy ?”

The two of them looked around the ruined church before they saw the red-haired girl who was near some candles next to a shrine of prayer. She lit up a candle and prayed in silence for their sake. Faith joined Daisy, lighting up a candle as well while Audy was watching them, starting to get annoyed.

“Come on guys, we cannot stay here too long.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Daisy replied.

A few seconds later a breeze came through, extinguishing the timid flames on the two candles. From this moment, Faith and Daisy stood up and stopped praying, turning on their heels at the same time towards Audy.

“We’re done.” The first one said.

“The Lord has heard our prayers.” The second added.

“What ? Already ? But you just lit the candles a few minutes ago” Audy replied, confusion in her eyes.

“It is the way it is. It’s probably a good omen” Faith said.

“Wait.. Let me just light the candles again.” The brunette said sheepishly.

As she was going slowly to the shrine, about to light the candles with another one, both of her friends widened their eyes in shock, attempting to stop her.

“DON’T !” Daisy yelled.

“DON’T DO IT, AUDREY ! You’re disrespecting His words !”

The long browned-haired one stopped her movement in the air, the spark just above the candle’s wick reaching it slowly but surely. Then, she looked at Faith and Daisy, an angry and dead gaze in her dark eyes.

“Even if I lit up those candles again, do you think it would change a fucking thing for what happened to our city ? To our families ? To our friends ?” She replied, clenching her teeth together as she spat her words like venom, anger getting the best of her, before she continued.

“No, it wouldn’t. Don’t take that fucking breeze as a sign from your Lord, ‘cause you two know better that, if He wanted to help us, He would have done it already. We are responsible for our own downfall. For our own misery. And no Gods will ever help us. Only the demons that you’re afraid of will answer us because they're close to what we are.”

After that, she saw the shock on her friends' faces, trying to reach out to her and yelling at her that she was irreverent by saying those words. It was the shock before the sound of something falling as fast as lightning just dropped on the ruined church. And then everything exploded. Bricks of the building were thrown away at Daisy and Faith’s head, knocking them out immediately. Audrey got hit as well, feeling her blood flowing from her face before blurring her vision. The last thing she saw was her two friends on the ground, blood running from their heads. Then, it went completely white.

━─━「₪」━─━

Aurey woke up, sweating all over her body as she was panting, trying to gain some air. She put a hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the sweat away and checking it. There wasn’t any blood. She sighed in relief but not too long. She knew it couldn’t be just a dream.

“This wasn’t just a nightmare” She whispered to herself, knowing too well this situation.

She stood up, got her gear on her and packed her stuff together before leaving the spot where she slept. She knew she shouldn’t have slept there. 

It was a small cave of collapsed buildings parted together which were composed of cables, metal pieces of broken engines everywhere. 

It could crumble any minute. But she took the risk anyway, as she felt this one was more safe. She didn’t know how long she slept but she was aware it was late. Once she got out, she covered her nose as she smelled an heavy and toxic smoke. It was the smell of somewhat burned vehicles and trash cans not that far away. It was, probably, another threat from a gang who were arguing again in the city.

She put her customized respirator on, breathing again. Then, she started to climb up the ruins, reaching for a higher spot to get a better view. She climbed a few minutes after finding a window, which gave a great opening view from below. She took her binoculars out of her pocket and started to look around. 

Through it, Aurey saw a usual wildfire in the city, on her right. She could barely hear the sound of gunshots. A lot was happening and she hoped her teammates could handle it while she went patrolling on her own. Suddenly she saw something blinking, in the corner of her left lens. She turned a bit more to her left and saw a black car entering the Nameless City. She had never seen a car like this before. This was the first time that she had witnessed new people arriving. Who could they be ? And why were they coming into this hell hole ? She made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on this vehicle and the people who were in it.

Meanwhile, Noah was lost in his thoughts as they were passing through the barbed wire gate of the city. He was just getting bored of the trip, having no idea why they got a call to come here. His partners and best friends in the car told him it was a well-paid mission, but he wasn’t really convinced by it. They had to do some cleanup as they were told. And given the sight of the city it seemed this town needed it. What was left of the police authorities were just broken cars, with no more tire or windows. They probably run away from all the chaos, just to survive somewhere else. Just being out of this mess. Noah kept staring through the window, his chin in the palm of his tattooed hand, just looking at all the clutter those crumbled buildings had made.

“A real concrete jungle…” He muttered.

Then he heard a howl. He was taken by surprise, not expecting to hear such a sound in this kind of city. He listened again, opening his window just to hear it more clearly. Another howling. It wasn’t human. It sounded more like an animal.

“ What was that ? Did you guys heard that ?” He said, his eyes widened as he couldn’t believe his ears.

"Heard what ?" Folio asked, not really paying too much attention to their surroundings.

"A howl. It sounded like a coyote. Or was it a wolf ?" Noah continued, his ears attentive to any other sound.

But the howling animal had stop. He still had no idea what his friends and him were getting into but he promised himself to investigate this strange city.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 4.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 6.8K

Warnings: UNRESOLVED sexual tension (shhhh I promise you will be okay), an unspecified age difference, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay?

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Baekhyun was on his way over to your house. You had no way of knowing how far away he actually had gotten before he turned around but you figured you had maybe 20 minutes. Maybe longer.

Did you have enough time for a shower? You felt the grime and the dirt of the day still all over your skin and your favorite way to start the weekend was with a long soak in the tub. Obviously that wasn’t an option right now but you found yourself racing into your bathroom for a shower instead. At least it would be a way to use up the waiting time instead of sitting on a bar stool in your kitchen and staring at the front door until the doorbell rang. It wasn’t like you could get much work done without the blue harddrive anyway.

Your shower broke speed records. You did what you could with the wet hair and quickly contemplated redoing your makeup. How ridiculous of an idea, putting on makeup right now. But to face this man bare faced with nothing? You opted for just a little. And what to wear? You knew you were overthinking this. You had no control over your overthinking and you had no time for it ether.

He was going to, at most, drop off the blue harddrive and then leave, right? Maybe he would come in just to make sure you were actually able to get the task done, since he’d come all the way over maybe he should stay for a while. Had he eaten dinner yet? Of course he wouldn’t have eaten. A million thoughts were racing through your mind and you quickly reached for just something ultra casual but still kind of cute from your closet. Comfy shorts and a soft top. You didn’t need to always look the part of the ultra professional manager, just because your assistant was ringing your doorbell right now, right?

The sound of that bell sent a jolt of nerves through your belly, you swore you even saw a flash of light somewhere, and in your mind flashed your options for answering that door.

Work, work, work, strictly business mode? How dare you keep my precious blue harddrive young man, don't you know what you almost did? No, no. It was kind of your fault too. You always checked for it before leaving the office. Why you didn't check this time? You’d had plenty of opportunities to check before and the fact that he happened to be carrying it with him instead of being left behind at the office was a blessing because instead of being there, you were home. You’d showered and changed and you were comfy and happy and there was no reason at all for you to be upset about Baekhyun coming over.

So did you go the ultra casual route instead? Welcome to my home. Let me give you the tour. Here is my loveseat — maybe you’d like to sit on it with me. It’s perfectly sized for two consenting adults to sit on together. Here is my kitchen, sorry I only have ramen. Would you like to share some with me tonight?

Maybe ultra casual was a bad idea.

You were out of time for your silly scenarios and when you pulled open your front door you caught a view of the top of Baekhyun’s blonde head. He was bent at the waist and lifted both hands with the hard drive lifted on top. It took only a second for your eyes to catch on to the rest of his appearance.

His hair was wet. His suit jacket had dark water stains on it as well and his slacks were also darker at the bottom legs with very obvious wetness.

“Noona, it didn’t get wet. I protected it with my body.” It took another half second for your ears to catch on to what had to be the sound of heavy rain falling outside. Your floor was a bit high and pretty well insulated from the world but it was odd of you not to notice the rain. You’d been so preoccupied with other things.

“Baekhyun, it’s raining? You should have told me, I would come down with an umbrella.”

You were pulling him inside now. He was a little bit drippy. You were careful to grab the hard drive first due to the sheer importance of its safety, but with it carefully set down next to your work laptop you rushed to the bathroom for a towel and handed it to him.

“I parked kind of far away in a secure lot down the street. There was a big truck right in front and they were—” his face had a wince now and as soon as he lifted the towel to his head his eyes seemed to focus on you for a second as he stopped explaining his reasoning for not just parking outside on the street; his reasoning for why he was so very soaked by the rain right now. You pictured him stuffing the precious hardrive deep inside his coat pocket and fighting the elements with it as he ran through the downpour.

His mouth hung open just a little and you caught the moment he must have registered that yes, you were home, and yes, you maybe had just showered, didn’t have on the usual office attire, nor work makeup on, maybe you were wearing something soft and comfy and so what? You were home. This was your home. It was your favorite place to be, why be uncomfortable at home when you spent 10 hours of every day uncomfortable at the office?

Something about his eyes on you though made you second guess the outfit. Maybe a pantsuit would have been more appropriate. Maybe you should have done something other than just comb your hair. The shorts you were wearing were pretty high cut but they were your absolute favorite to sleep in. The shirt was thin but it wasn’t like it was transparent. This was a normal at home outfit, right? Had you lost your mind completely?

“—they were…?” You spoke out loud, drawing out his last words spoken, trying to get him to continue what he was saying and in the process, interrupting his strange silence.

“Who was?” He whispered and his face dipped forward as he wrinkled his eyebrows in complete confusion.

He was gone somewhere else. You opened your lips to speak and then closed them again. Finding no response for him that was safe enough.

He was standing just inside your doorway and after a few seconds you knew you had to move before the motion light turned off. So you moved — pushing a set of house slippers closer toward him with your bare foot, his eyes looked down catching the motion and without saying anything to him you turned and retreated back inside your apartment.

He could come in. You’d made that invitation evident with the house sippers. It wasn’t like you should be expected to say it out loud right? Some things were so very hard to say out loud.

You quietly settled onto your sofa with your laptop on the coffee table and connected the hard drive; waiting for the happy little notification sound to tell you that everything was going to be just fine — all the while watching the entryway out of the corner of your eye.

When you finally did see him, he had moved up just until to the threshold and he’d removed the wet coat. He found a coat hook and hung it there. The resourceful man could manage well enough on his own. You pulled your eyes to the laptop screen and blinked them purposefully and slowly, willing your focus to stay there. You even furrowed your eyebrows in some attempt to get them to stay put. File folders and dates. Revisions, and final versions. A silent grunt from the back of his throat and slim fingertips that pulled at the top button of a white dress shirt; popping it open with what you thought was much more force than was necessary. The slide of a long black necktie out of its knot and then pulled with force out of its collar until the silken fabric whipped free and hung toward the floor. Checking email attachments. Checking email recipients. Double checking email attachments and checking email recipients. Undoing buttons on cuff sleeves and rolling sleeves up, dear god, forearms with defined muscles— triple checking attachments and recipients and attachments and recipients.

He was moving inside now; wearing your pink slippers on his sock covered feet. As he moved just inside the space so he could place a duffel bag carefully down onto the floor, he squatted in front of it and he was digging inside. Raindrops rolled down the sides of the bag and he used the towel to blot up the moisture.

“Noona, would it be weird if I changed? I don't like being wet.” The second he turned toward you to speak, you shot your eyes to your laptop screen with impressive speed.

“No, it wouldn't be weird, why would that be weird? We are no longer at work, you are off the clock. I also hate being w-w…like that. Nothing weird about that — ” You recognized the telltale sounds of panic in your own voice and you stopped the next words from coming out of your mouth with a deep shaking inhale through your open mouth, “—at all.” You breathed out the last words to make your sentence complete and you vowed, swore, begged, and pleaded for yourself to calm down and just be normal for once in your entire goddamned life, please — please. Your face felt like it might be on fire.

You lifted a finger and you pointed toward your bathroom door. Maybe you had something that could be considered a non threatening smile on your face. The door was already open and there was no need to point it out. It was very obviously a bathroom. He had already been walking in that direction.

Baekhyun was watching you from about halfway there. He’d stopped his forward progress the second you started rambling and his eyes were wide and his lips were shut. After what felt like about 10 minutes of staring, but was probably only 10 seconds in reality, his eyes bounced around somewhere above the ceiling above your head and he nodded his head twice with his eyes way up there.

Then he swallowed, inhaled a half breath and he let out a high pitched, almost painful sounding, “Yep…Okay,” with a very definite wince on his face. He turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

After at least a minute you heard the click of the door being locked.

Well.

That went…bad.

You closed your eyes and groaned out loud. Resting your head in your hands, you wondered if it really came down to it and you had to vomit, would you just do it in the kitchen trash can, or the kitchen sink and risk clogging the pipes, or maybe you’d run to the balcony and puke over the railing. That might be the best option actually because you could also just hurl your body over the railing too and see which hit the ground first.

Your money was on the vomit, but some distant memory from one of your high school science classes brought the words terminal velocity flashing through your head and before you knew it you had a google tab opened up, reading the FAQ page from some reputable science website.

Your curiosity was satisfied. You stared ahead at the closed bathroom door with a decision to make now.

Would you be normal?

Or would you splatter onto the pavement at the same time as your vomit?

These were the only two options you gave yourself. Because the second option sounded just so very bad, you really had no other choice.

You had to be normal. You lifted yourself onto your legs and made your way into the kitchen. Baekhyun had arrived as your assistant but could your assistant also not be a guest in your home? An assistant guest deserved a beverage. Your fridge had a few options. And when you heard the bathroom door open you called out over your shoulder from somewhere inside the fridge.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have some teas, some water, some juice…” You did not mention the beer that sat in the back of the fridge. He had to drive back home later and you weren’t sure what his tolerance might be like.

“Tea is fine,” his voice came from right beside you in this kitchen and you steadied your face with a pleasant smile for him before you turned to face him.

He was watching you with an equally pleasant smile on his own face. He wore a plain white t-shirt now, some light gray sweatpants, and clean white socks on his feet. He’d abandoned your light pink slippers it seemed. You tried not to linger on him for too long. Of course he looked beautiful in his gym clothes. You allowed your eyes half a second max to look at him. Any longer than that was superfluous and unnecessary.

Your smile was slipping and you strengthened it.

“Green, black, or a citrusy one?” His eyes slipped down the length your face when you spoke again. But he was quick with an inhale and he also matched your smile before he responded.

“Surprise me.” He bit down on his bottom lip and you reached a blind hand into the fridge grabbing randomly.

You came out with the green tea and held it out for him to grab, reaching a second hand for the same for yourself, you quickly made an escape back to the safety of the work. The work would save you, as it often did when you were faced with having to look too closely at Baekhyun.

This time instead of sitting on the sofa, you opted to sit down on the floor in front of your coffee table. The floor had plenty of space for him to also sit beside you without it being on the loveseat, which you right now decided was off limits to the both of you.

“Noona,” Baekhyun said after a while of watching you stare at your screen as you worked harder and better than you’ve ever worked in your entire life.

“Hmm?” You didn’t look over at him when he spoke, but you did stop the typing and you did raise a single eyebrow as a cue that yes, you responded to him and yes you were giving him enough of your attention to say whatever he had wanted to say.

He didn’t speak right away though and eventually the curiosity about his silence grew.

When you found him he was watching your face and his head lifted ever so slightly to have your actual attention.

“You’re different at home.” It was a quiet observation this time, and behind his eyes you could see the smile there. He lifted the bottle of tea and took the smallest sip. He wasn’t looking at you anymore but you wondered what he meant by different.

“Like bad different?”

He swallowed the tea and was looking across the room at a wall of art you had assembled there.

“Nope,” he said cryptically, drawing out the vowel sound in the word and letting his lips pop with the P at the end and he pushed himself off the floor to his feet and made his way across the space to look at each piece you remember carefully hanging up the week you moved in. It was all silly art. Nothing valuable but every single bit of it made you happy whenever you looked at it.

“Different how?” It was probably the clothes. You were way too dressed down and you probably seemed like a different person to him. You couldn’t quite help the slight upset that you felt somehow. Like maybe you should have put on a little bit of makeup, or done something with your hair before he came. Maybe you should have put off the shower altogether. You held in the strange negativity you felt by his comment and held your breath when you saw the inhale he took as he turned away from the brightly colored hand painted horse wearing an eye patch painting he had been looking closely at.

“Different, different,” he said cryptically and you groaned out loud at being baited by his non answer.

Damn him. You heard the giggle in response and he shook his head at you with a tiny pop out of the tip of his tongue. This would not do.

“Just tell me, like different in a bad way or a good way?” you felt yourself being tricked by this but you felt so powerless. He was very good at it and he had seemed to have perfected his skills over the course of working with you.

“It’s not bad,” he said after a while of looking at you and there was a slow and steady sinking of his playful smile as he did it.

“You can have next Tuesday afternoon off if you just tell me,” you said it flippantly and you were almost completely finished with your work. An entire hour before the deadline. You could feel the end nearing. You could almost taste the bubbles of the beer you would sip on and you could already hear the music you would play on your speakers as you settled into the warm comforting pillows and fluffy blankets of your bed.

“The whole afternoon?” His eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted at the promise you apparently had just made to lose your assistant for an entire afternoon. At least you’d picked one of the less busy days to offer.

You casually shrugged and hit send, submitting everything you needed to submit, you saved your work on the cloud database that management all used and you began to close out all of those damned tabs that kept you chained to this work life.

“Okay, well, at work you're super professional and kinda scary and very intimidating,” oh boy he was talking now. Did he just call you scary? You could feel yourself making a face. It wasn’t one of your best. There was a pout involved.

“But here, you’re like,” his confidence seemed to falter and his eyes didn’t look at yours but rather did a little dance off to the side, “d-different.”

“I know you didn’t just use the exact same word I’ve asked you to define three times now, Byun Baekhyun.” You’d had enough and you snapped. It wasn't your finest moment.

You saw him physically flinch and then he started talking fast. In your defense you did feel a little bad when you saw the flinch.

“Different like, soft and cute different. Soft and cute, like a girlfriend would be different. That kind of different, Jesus.” He said all so fast and you could see the tension in his jaw as the words came out. “I mean, but not right now, you were very much exactly the same as you are at work, just now.” His eyes were wide and his finger was pointing as he spoke his last bit. Not that that part mattered because your mind replayed the parts he said before.

You saw sparkly little starbursts around the letters as they danced inside of your head.

Soft and cute.

Like a girlfriend.

“Oh,” was all you could manage to say. A slight flush crept up your cheeks and you focused all of your attention on unplugging cords on your laptop and oh so carefully putting everything in its rightful spot in the bag.

“I’m done,” you said softly without looking into Baekhyun's face. If he had anything further to add to that description of how very different you were at home, he didn’t offer it freely and you also didn’t ask a single follow up question.

You could feel a moment approaching. A kind of do-or-die moment. A speak-now-or-forever-hold-your-peace moment.

It was still raining outside. You could hear the steady drops hitting your patio through the sliding glass door and the nighttime city lights blurred as the falling water pulled the city view into a distorted and warbled mix of bright colors.

“It’s still raining out,” you said softly in his general direction and his eyes pulled up from where a comfortable stare had kept him looking into your eyes. He did not ask anything from you that required an answer. He looked at you and his eyes blinked but he didn’t speak. You could see that his drink was almost finished now, just as your work had been.

When he finally did speak it was after you’d both been watching the other for too long, wondering who would break first. It kind of seemed like his turn now, you’d managed the comment about the rain.

“Noona,” he said from the spot beside the horse.

I should go. I should leave. I have a long drive back home.

It’s getting late and the roads are wet, Baekhyun, you should stay at least for a while longer. You haven’t had any dinner have you? Let’s eat together. Don't go just yet. You only just got here.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response to him and your voice got halfway caught in your throat, making it come out as mostly air.

“Noona, I think—” He stopped speaking. He was looking ahead of himself holding on to the empty bottle of processed sugary green tea and he stood there with his eyes blinking faster now than when he started speaking to you.

And then his smile came. Oh it was bright and it was lovely, that smile that filled up his face, it didn’t reach his eyes entirely because he was shaking his head back and forth with the smile on his lips.

“Nevermind, Noona. I should go,” He said it softly and cheerfully and then he was moving. “Your Assistant has to leave.”

His smile was so bright and whatever he had been about to say to you was snuffed out instantly by the brightness and the forced cheerful way he declared his intent to leave this place; to leave you.

You had to respond in kind. You stood up quickly and you hid away every little bit of evidence of disappointment you might have betrayed and you played along with happiness about his departure. Maybe he really was glad to go. Maybe he was exhausted from the very long day and longed for the peace of his own home.

This was for the best, of course it was.

“Oh, okay.” You said. It came out a little bit like a whisper, but you still had that smile on your face so that meant something.

He was gathering his things and he was leaving. You couldn't blame him. He had done his part and completed the job needed today. He made sure to bring the blue harddrive to you and he saved the day, just like a good assistant did. The best assistant.

Baekhyun left quietly.

When the door closed there was a new silence in your home that you instantly hated. It was thick and it coated you from the top of your head down our shoulders and made you feel heavy. Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and it was loud enough for you to subconsciously begin counting the seconds to see how far away it was.

A few seconds later you heard the boom and you wished you had made him take an umbrella with him.

You wished he had stayed. You wanted him to stay. You wanted him to finish his thought. What was he about to tell you?

‘Noona, I think-‘

You’d give him a whole week off if he could come back and finish that sentence.

Your feet weren’t quite working. That claggy feeling that had taken over your body made your legs sticky and heavy and you were still standing by the door obsessing over those three words you heard repeated again and again in his voice for how long, you weren’t certain about. Through at least a few more thunderclaps though.

Just when you’d worked up the nerve to walk away from the door you heard an impossible sound ring out in your apartment.

It wasn’t thunder, but it hit you with just as much of a shock that you jumped and yelped in surprise from it.

It was the doorbell.

Someone was ringing your doorbell and it took you a few seconds to recover from the shock. You leapt forward and put a hand on the doorknob.

What if some crazy person had just seen Baekhyun leave and was waiting to hack you to bits with an ax?

You were cautious with it. It was close to midnight now and outside there was thunder and lightning, the perfect kind of weather to hide some poor woman’s screams as she was chopped to bits with an ax.

You tiptoed just enough to see through the peep hole and you could clearly make out the familiar blond head of hair and bright waving smiling face of your very own Byun Baekhyun. He held up his hand, displaying a plastic bag from what you assumed was the convenience store downstairs and you turned the handle and pushed it open.

“Noona!” He shouted as soon as the door was open. “Noona, you will not believe the day I have had at work.”

You were absolutely positive that your face looked only like wild with genuine shock and confusion, which he was flat out ignoring it right now.

“Baekhyun, what—” You began as you pulled the door open. He had a forward momentum about him though and you had to step aside to avoid being bumped as he walked right into your house, for the second time tonight, only this time, doing some sort of a bit. He walked with confidence and with purpose as if he had been here many, many times before.

“I just had to come and visit my favorite Noona to tell her all about my insane day,” he swallowed in the middle of his explanation. His eyes had a frantic look to them. “—my insane work day where I work with my manager?” His eyebrows were lifted in your direction expectantly and you watched his face with much of that exact same look of shock and confusion on your face. Only there was a bit more acceptance beginning to grow.

His bright smile did not quit and you found yourself betraying the tiniest hopeless laugh as you merely followed his steps inside your kitchen where he plopped down a six pack of beer and several bags of what looked to be snacks and assorted instant noodles.

Something felt different this time. You didn’t know how in the hell he did it but maybe it was because he was referring to your job and your manager title in the third person now, you really felt so much more at ease watching him walking around your kitchen doing things like putting some water on to boil in the kettle and reaching for chopsticks from your utensil drawers.

“So…” he began after opening two beers and handing one of them to you. He didn’t speak right away but he did lift his beer up and clink it against yours ever so slightly. You found an easy spot to sit and watch whatever this show he was putting on was from the bar stool on the other side of your kitchen counter. You had to admit, your mood was miles away from where it had been before your doorbell rang. The smiles felt natural and came easily to you now. This version of Baekhyun was the best one yet.

“So,” you lifted the beer to your lips and took a sip. “Tell me about your day.” You somehow felt that this was the right line for you and you reached for a bag of chips and ripped it open. This felt like exactly what you needed actually. A little gossip with a friend who thinks of you as his favorite Noona. The strangest excitement was building inside of you as he sighed dramatically and lifted his hands to his face for the sake of the story.

“It all started this morning Noona, I fucked up. I fucked up big time,” your mouth was full of chips and you crunched through the revaluation of this big mistake he had made.

“It can’t have been that bad,” you said through bites, faking ignorance for the sake of this game.

“So you know this big presentation that has been coming up? Like weeks we’ve been working our asses off, my manager harder than anyone? Well right before the presentation I made a huge mistake. Huge. Like world-ending.”

Your mind flashed back to the morning of this very long day. You knew the exact mistake he was talking about but he seemed to be working toward something here so you took another sip of your beer and ate some more chips as a response.

“Can’t have been that bad,” you repeated again. Your acting skills were always a little bit lacking. “What did you even do, it’s not like you did something like…kissed her right before she went on stage, right?”

His hands were covering his open mouth and you heard a dramatic gasp. “How did you know?” He said convincingly and you felt a big laugh escape.

“Wild guess, Baekhyun,” you said through laughter. Never in a million years did you think you would be talking about this with him and actually enjoying yourself. What kind of magician was he?

“So what did she do? What about the presentation”

“She fucking killed it, of course. I knew she would though, she’s incredible. I’m not kidding, she’s like,” his eyes were full and wide and he threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling, “like no one else.”

“So, it wasn’t that bad then, right? Why did you do it?” The fun on the surface game took on a slight feeling of trouble with your next question. You reached for another chip and Baekhyun turned his back on you to grab the screaming tea kettle from the stove.

“Why else does a guy kiss a girl?” You heard him say with his attention down on the boiling water that he was pouring into a single large sized bowl of instant ramen.

You bit down on your bottom lip and you watched the slight wobble in the water as it went into the paper bowl. His grip on the kettle seemed just a little unsteady now.

“Could there be lots of reasons why?” You began as unsteadily as the stream of water poured into the ramen bowl.

“Like maybe you just made a mistake, or didn’t mean to do that, or—”

His eyes looked up into yours with as much disbelief as he could manage and he exhaled a hard breath out of his nose and you pulled your lips closed quickly before you could come up with any more nonsense reasons for that kiss.

You knew with that single look from him, just how full-of-shit he found every single one of your reasons for the kiss. Still your mind had trouble connecting his intentions and the action itself. It was as if you’d been so far into the pit of denial now that you were having trouble finding the footing to crawl your way out of it. Baekhyun was trying to throw you a rope but you missed catching it every single time.

“Well, what did she say about it?”

His hands lifted the ramen and he put it up onto the counter beside you so the noodles could soften and you watched as he grabbed his beer and he walked around the kitchen island to take the bar seat right beside you.

He was very close to you now.

You could feel his arm against your shoulder when he sat down and his brows furrowed as he looked down into the covered bowl that sat between you both.

“She got mad at me after that,” he said softly, aiming his little pout toward the noodles instead of at you. “I don't think it was because I kissed her, but maybe it was. I don't know.” From his chest came a big sigh that absolutely did not feel like part of this whole act. In fact, every single thing he said had just enough of a touch into your eyes that you knew he meant every word he was saying to you now.

“This is why I’ve come to you, my very favorite Noona, for advice.”

He propped an elbow up on the counter and tilted his head, leaning against his hand. His eyes were watching you and he had just the smallest smile on his lips as he did it. His eyes sparkled in your direction and you felt the air around your head take on a static tingle the longer he looked at you like this.

This Baekhyun was so very dangerous simply because he was so disarming. All you wanted was to look into his face and to answer each and every one of his questions. All you wanted was to tell him the truth of it all.

It was terrifying.

“Maybe,” you began cautiously and his eyes blinked at you expectantly as you began to speak, practically rooting for you to go on with their eagerness. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing. How could he have managed to pull this conversation out of you? You were falling for it so easily. You even found yourself wanting to fall for it as easily as you were. You felt bewitched and beguiled and you realized that you might have actually lost this battle a long time ago.

“Maybe?” He urged softly and he broke eye contact to open the lid and check on the noodles.

“Maybe she was mad at how you acted after the kiss?”

This suggestion brought a tilt to his head and he furrowed his eyebrows and searched his memory for a moment.

“How I acted? How did I act? Because I was nervous? Does she only like super confident guys?” You caught a souring of his face for a moment. “Maybe that’s why she liked Chet. All of that undeserved and unearned confidence. Ugh”

“Hey, she never liked Chet. Not like that. Chet was okay to work with, but that’s it.” You lifted your hands to draw a hard imaginary line in the air to emphasize your point.

“And besides, it might not have been about confidence or being nervous, Baekhyun. Maybe she got mad because you immediately switched from calling her something sweet like ‘Noona’ to something cold and sterile and ultra aloof like ‘Miss Manager’ and she thought that maybe you instantly regretted kissing her because you didn’t even mean it and you wished you could take it back and leave and never ever come back.”

Now you had done it. You could feel every cell in your body alive and on full alert from this sudden confession you had somehow been tricked into spewing out all over this countertop and Baekhyun was watching your face very closely for every single word of it.

He stared at you for a long time in silence and there was a slight sinking of his eyelids as he did it. After a while he inhaled a slow and steady breath that must have made his head feel too heavy because he tilted his head a tiny bit to the side and swallowed.

You could feel the time passing through this. You could feel every raindrop that fell on your patio outside. You could count the beats of your heart that echoed inside your ears and he wasn’t speaking at all.

Until he spoke at last.

“Nah, that’s not it.” He said after a deep inhaled breath and you swear to god you felt the earth open up below your feet and swallow you up. Or maybe you just wished it would.

Your eyes opened wide and looked up into the ceiling. You could feel the saliva inside of your mouth refuse to go down even though you swallowed like five times in rapid succession. Finally you couldn't stand to witness any more at all and you closed your eyes up tight and tried to focus on getting your heart rate or your breathing to calm down. It didn’t help much.

It felt horrible and humiliating. You were too close to being overcome. How could he…did he really intend to let you say all of that, admit to all of that and just…laugh at you for it like this? You felt close to an upset. You could feel the heat building behind your eyes and you knew you couldn't do this for very much longer and keep in control of your emotions. You’d already given way too much away.

It was two or three fingertips and that touched over the side of your face that first did it - that brought you out of it. Someone was touching you. Someone was begging you now. You felt the warmth on your face.

Those two fingertips on your cheekbone and you allowed your eyes to open just a little and you turned your focus over to face him. His eyes were on you now and you felt more of his slim fingers slipping along your face until you had turned into him and between the tremble in your lips and the warmth you felt all over your face; it must have felt like a fever with his hand on you like this.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. It was a bad joke, baby, I’m sorry,” he was whispering now but he had moved in so close to you that everything he spoke was like headphones sending his whispered words directly into your chest. The new name he called you in that careful cautious whisper of his spread through your chest like wildfire and you were consumed by it. It called to you again and again.

baby

Did he really just—

Did he really call you that with his hand on your face and the warmth of his own forehead leaning against your own and your whole body nearly ready to burst into flames under the heavy weight of his hand on your face?

You felt his other hand now, landing on the other side of your face and there was a pull to look up into his eyes. You had been avoiding them until now.

The pressure of this room made it hard to breathe with him so close to you and with the ghost of that ‘baby’ was still dancing around behind your eyes.

“Noona, I think,” he spoke softer now and your mind sharpened to the words he had told you earlier, the words he tried to say before he left, before he left as your assistant and came back to you just as Baekhyun; as just your Baekhyun. You must be dreaming. This didn’t feel real.

His words, the familiarity of them and desperately you repeated them to yourself after he left, these words once again teased on the tip of his tongue, they pulled your eyes into his and he was watching you from much too closely for you to really be able to focus on anything but the deep brown color of his eyes.

“Noona, I think we like each other.” He was looking into your eyes when he said it and you had no words to refute it. It was true for you and it must also be true for him.

You felt the warmth of his breath that came in short bursts from his parted lips against your face and when you leaned into him. You felt the softness of those pink lips mold into your own when you kissed him.

You felt the deafening silence as every single voice of reason and each and every alarm bell inside of you went still when you kissed him.

You felt the lighting strike hit close enough this time to send a bolt straight through your chest when you kissed him.

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 11: [NIGHTBRINGER] belphie, lucifer / deep sleep

ao3 link

note: i've mostly been doing these in the order i remember getting them so far, but i might start skipping around, since they're quite lucifer-frontloaded (not that i'm complaining). anyway - this is based on nb lesson 12, where mc's in that curse-coma, but! the twist is that ik can somehow still speak through it. since, y'know, special reaper curse

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“...oh, you’re here.”

Lucifer doesn’t look up as Belphie slips into the room. He stays there, sitting in a chair he’s dragged from the dining room, half-hunched over, with his forearms on his knees. Belphie gets the distinct feeling that his oldest brother hasn’t slept in the last forty-eight hours.

He glances over at the wan face of the room’s only other occupant. “...still not up?”

“Solomon said not to expect it to happen soon,” Lucifer says blankly. “We don’t know the exact nature of the curse. By all means, it should have been fatal.”

They both look at IK’s blank face. The light flickers in a way that, for a moment, makes her look as if she’s blinking awake - though Belphie doesn’t dare hope.

“Weird kid,” He mumbles, more to her than Lucifer. “You can’t do magic, but you can survive reaper curses? If you can do that, why didn’t you…”

'Why didn’t you stop us from trying to hurt you?' is what he means, but he can’t finish the question. Lucifer looks as if he knows what he was going to say, anyway.

“So where’s Solomon gone, then?” He asks after a beat, frowning. “All that talk, and he’s not even staying to look after her?”

“He said he’d look for solutions in the tomes at the cave. And that he was leaving IK in charge.”

Yeah, that’s right.

“As if h— huh?”

They both whip around. IK hasn’t moved.

Belphie glances quickly at Lucifer. “Did you hear—?”

“Yes.” His response is short and harried. “What was that?”

They both fall silent for a moment, listening hard. Nothing.

“Maybe we’re just hearing things,” Belphie says reluctantly, though he’d swear it to anyone that he just heard IK speaking, loud and clear.

“Do you think that’s likely?” Lucifer stands up, staring around the room like a sentinel, a dangerous shadow falling over his face. “It could be any manner of mimicry. If something’s gotten in—”

Wait, did you hear me?

Lucifer goes dead silent. There's no mistaking that voice - but there’s also no mistaking the fact that the speaker has not moved an inch.

After a moment, Belphie tries, “IK?”

You did! She sounds downright joyful - the words don’t quite ring like speech does in a room, but the voice in their heads is clear as day. I was so BORED.

“You can talk?” He asks, bewildered. “Wait, you’re— can’t you open your eyes?”

No. Do you think I haven’t tried? Now she sounds aggravated. I’ve been awake this whole time. I just can’t bloody move.

“Watch your language,” He says automatically.

Don’t start. I’m losing my mind here. But you can actually hear me now!

“Yes, you’ve said that already.” Lucifer sits down again, leaning forward, practically on the edge of his seat. “How much do you remember?”

Hmm. I remember you both trying to kill me.

A pause. Then Lucifer asks, voice suddenly about half as loud, “What is your situation, then?”

There’s a sort of buzz, as if IK is laughing. Not much going on. It’s like sitting in a dark room. I can hear things coming from outside, but I can’t see anything. It sucks.

Say, if you were a shark, what kind would you be?

“What?”

I think you’d be a nurse shark, Belphie, because they’re usually chill, except when they aren’t. And Lucifer would be… a blue shark, because that’s his favourite colour.

They exchange mildly bemused looks. After a moment, Lucifer says slowly, “How do you know that? I’ve never told you.”

…uh… Belphie gets the distinct feeling that IK is panicking. ...context clues. You know, clothes and stuff.

“You’ve only seen him wearing red,” He says a little suspiciously.

And what’s the opposite of red? Blue. Next question.

It’s no use trying to pry. Every time this happens - every time Belphie gets the unnerving feeling that their attendant knows them better than they even know themselves - he tries to figure out why, and IK deflects. The dedication would be impressive if it wasn’t annoying.

Who is this kid? She shows up, completely out cold, and hasn’t even been awake for an hour by the time she’s been put in charge of the Devildom’s newly-minted residents. Then Solomon, of all people, that sorcerer whose reputation long precedes him, shows up calling her his ward, even though she’s got no magic to speak of.

Though Belphie doesn’t know what else to call her knack for making them… talk. She takes to the Devildom like a duck to water - practically skips through it all while they’re still mired in their own rotten souls. They should’ve been insulted that Diavolo would think this ridiculous little thing capable of handling the seven of them, but IK does it like it’s second nature.

That’s the frustrating part. They’ll tell her near-everything, and IK tells them absolutely nothing. And it isn’t that they’re stupid, or blind, or so self-absorbed that they don’t notice when she goes quiet - when she stares off at something that isn’t there, eyes filled with some inexplicable loneliness that should be far beyond her years.

Is Satan around? IK asks. He was in here, reading, before. He couldn’t hear me then, but maybe he will now.

“Um… he went out.” Belphie sits down on the foot of the bed. “Hey. I’m… not angry with you anymore.”

Wow. Do you want an award?

“No, I—” He swallows. His tail flicks up behind him, and he seizes it for comfort before he can stop himself. “—I’m sorry. That’s what I meant.”

Oh.

Okay.

He waits for a moment. There’s no other response. He looks at Lucifer.

His brother’s face is twisted into something that might resemble remorse. The ironic part is that Ik would probably know better than he does, if only she could open her eyes to see.

“We’re doing what we can,” is all Lucifer says after a while. “You will be alright. I can promise you that.”

That’s a relief, she says, a touch ironically. So am I just stuck like this until Solomon figures something out?

Lucifer’s jaw tightens. “...I don’t know. All we can do is wait.”

Great. I’ll get right on that.

Belphie scoffs. “I don’t know how you’re making jokes right now. You could’ve died. You still might now.”

Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, says IK dryly. I know what being dead feels like. This isn't anything like it.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

No answer. Belphie shoots an apprehensive look at Lucifer, then leans forward. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

Silence. He doesn’t know if IK’s refusing to speak, or if the connection has broken already. He makes as if to stand up, to go find Barbatos, or Diavolo, or anyone who might know how to repair it. He can't lose it now.

He’s poured his heart out to her once before, then hadn’t even waited a day to turn on her. He doesn’t know what, but he has to do something about it, right?

But, before he can, Lucifer takes a deep breath, then abruptly stands up.

“...I have to go,” He mutters.

That, at least, gets IK to speak up again - Belphie feels a rather distracted spark of relief. Where are you going?

“Out,” He replies sharply, then pauses, and sighs. “...I need to clear my head. You’re… incomprehensible.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

…hey. You’ll come back and talk to me, right? It’s really boring in here.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, softer.

It’d be nice.

Lucifer looks at IK for a moment, then leans down. Belphie doesn’t quite see what he does, but when he straightens up again, the blankest are tucked in more snugly, and IK’s hair looks a little neater than it did before.

“Then I will,” Lucifer tells her, and steps back. With one last, lingering glance, he turns on his heel, and walks out.

…

…Belphie, are you still there?

“Yeah,” He says quietly, and decides to take Lucifer’s seat. “Are you okay?”

Not the best I’ve been. Not the best week I’ve had, either.

He wishes he had some water. “That’s our fault, isn’t it?”

Sorry.

“Don’t— what are you saying sorry for? You always—” He stops himself before he can finish. “—you’re so weird.”

A pause. Then, That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Stop it. Just…” He drags a hand through his hair and catches a finger on his left horn. “...just let me feel bad, will you?”

…fine.

He takes a breath. “...Beel’s okay, by the way. I don’t know if you’ve heard him.”

I did. I’m really glad.

“He’s worried. We all are. Look, I—”

Don’t bother, IK interrupts. …I get it, I mean. You don’t have to explain it to me.

“I really don’t get you,” He mumbles.

Another laughing sound. I get that a lot.

“Aren’t you scared? Aren’t you angry?”

Not angry. Scared… maybe.

Doesn’t matter, though. It’ll be fine. It has to be. I have to get…

Silence for a while. He doesn't quite dare to ask - have to get... what? What is it that she's so determined to hold on for?

…hey. If you wanted to, say, make it up to me… could you hold my hand?

He blinks. “Will you be able to feel it?”

I don’t know. But it’d be a nice thought.

“...okay. Sure, I can do that.”

Belphie drags the chair closer, untucks a corner of the blanket, and closes his fingers around a cold little hand. IK's voice murmurs a quiet thank you.

If he really squints, he can fool himself into seeing a tiny smile on her face.

"You'd better wake up soon."

[medusapelagia]

Dark Weeping Angel

written for @strangerthingswritersguild - Time for a joust for Devonia (@devondespresso) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve & Eddie TW: dark fic, mention of injuries, blood and wounds, vampire Eddie Munson, ambiguous/open ending, Eddie Munson as Kas Prompt: Weeping Angel Word Count: 1572 AO3 link

A newborn first breath. 

That’s what Vecna is thinking about, while the dead body, covered in dirt and blood, gasps in front of him.

It’s not really a breath because the man that once was Eddie Munson is dead, but it resembles it. The body sits, too abruptly, spitting blood and mud and cleaning his mouth with his arm. It takes a moment for him to notice that he is not alone, and when he turns Vecna’s blue eyes are staring at him.

The boy tilts his head, like a curious cat. He is not worried or scared, just curious. He is wondering if Vecna is a friend or an enemy. Eddie‘s eyes are blurred, but they are pointed exactly where they should be.

“Good morning sleepy head,” Vecna says, getting closer, and offering his hand to the creature in front of him.

Eddie sniffs it a few times and licks Vecna’s palm, finding that he likes the man’s taste and that he is not a threat. 

“Can you get up?” Vecna asks, stepping back and looking at Eddie trying to stand up a few times and failing miserably until he notices that there is something on his back: a big pair of dark wings and a tail are testing his equilibrium. The boy stares at Vecna in confusion, but the man keeps smiling at him, like a proud parent, so Eddie tries again, and again until he finally manages to stand up.

The black membranous wings are so big that they touch the ground and his thick tail scratches against the rocks. Eddie whimpers in pain, looking at his body that’s so different from what used to be. 

“You should be grateful to me.” Vecna says getting closer, grabbing one of Eddie's wings and twisting it until the monster tries to free himself roaring, “You’re mine to play with. Never forget about it!” Vecna hisses before releasing the wing and Eddie wraps himself in his huge wings like he could hide from the man that‘s still staring at him. He tentatively touches his wings with his hands, discovering that new part of his body. He startles himself while his wings flex under his fingertips, as he slowly understands how to move them. 

“Are you ready to get back?”

Eddie tilts his head in confusion.

“Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Eddie makes a sound that’s definitely not a word but sounds like a question. 

“I’ll let you go back where you came from.” Vecna says, pointing at the destroyed white trailers just a few feet away, “Back home.”

Home is a word that Eddie doesn’t know, but he licks the air as if he could taste it.

Home is nice.

Home is good.

Home is edible. Maybe.

The ground trembles and once more Eddie falls on the ground with a whimper, trying to understand what he should do, but Vecna grabs him by his arm and helps him stand up.

“Home.” He insists, pointing at the trailer, “Go home.”

This time Eddie follows the order and wobbles toward the red rift on the ground, jumping through it. He tries to open his wings, but they are still too new, so he falls to the ground with a whimper. 

The trailer park is empty, the place looks abandoned and there are no cars in the parking lot. One part of Eddie's mind, the part that vaguely remembers that home is a good thing, knows that’s not normal, but neither is it having wings and a tail.

He starts walking through the woods, keeping his wings up even if the muscles of his shoulders ache, while his tail keeps moving from one side to the other.

It doesn’t take long before he sees a house. A pretty familiar one. A house that’s not home but that he visited enough times to know that there is a room with horrible wallpaper and a heated pool.

A pool sounds so nice.

Eddie walks towards the house and tastes the air with his tongue like a snake. Nothing. The house is empty. He sits near the pool, staring at his reflection, and when he reaches out with one hand toward the reflective surface he loses his equilibrium once more and falls head-first into the pool. The creature squirms, kicks, and howls, trying to escape from the deadly trap he fell into, too busy shrieking and screaming to notice the shift in the air. His cries for help cover the sound of a car getting closer, and in his panic, he doesn’t taste in the air the presence of another person.

A young man is holding a nailed bat in front of him. Somewhere in his broken memories, a voice whispers to him to take care, that the bat could hurt him, but the water is trying to drown him so the creature that once was Eddie Munson cries out of fear, and the boy with the bat steps closer.

Eddie’s hands have claws but they can’t get a grip on the water or else. His blurred eyes are wide with fear and then the boy with the bat does something stupid. Or brave. Eddie can’t really tell.

He strips off his clothes and jumps into the pool, swimming toward the screaming creature.

“Calm down! You need to calm down!” The familiar voice insists, but the monster keeps fighting the terrible water that’s trying to swallow him and drag him down where everything is cold and bad.

Somehow the boy manages to grab the monster, even if he keeps scratching his chest, and drags him towards the pool stairs.

Finding finally something he can use as leverage, the monster gets out of the pool as fast as he can, not caring about the whimpers behind him and pushing the boy underwater more than once without even noticing it.

When the boy reemerges, spitting dirty water, the creature is hiding behind a little house, pool house his mind supplies, still scared and unsure about what to do. 

“Eddie?” The boy calls, and the creature knows that he used to answer that name before, but it feels something so far away, like a childhood memory that he forgot but somehow is still lingering in his mind.

“Eddie?” The boy calls again, and the creature dares to peek from his hiding spot at the boy.

The boy is naked, apart from his boxers and his socks, and his chest is a bleeding mess: the creature’s claws tore the skin and cut muscles and fat.

Still, on his four legs, the creature gets closer, smelling the blood and feeling a terrible hunger.

How long has passed since he fed himself?

He jumps at the boy and the young man falls on the pavement hitting his head hard. He whimpers in pain, but Eddie's new limbs make sure that the boy can’t move when he starts to lap at his wounds.

The blood metallic taste fills his mouth and it’s the most divine thing he has ever tasted. 

Under him, the boy cries and screams but Eddie keeps sucking at the bloodied wounds.

Ambrosia.

That’s another word that comes to his mind, unlocked from the memory of the boy who was Eddie Munson.

“Eddie… Eddie, please stop! It’s me! Steve! I’m your friend! We helped you at the boat house. It’s me! Come on man! It’s Steve!” The boy yells while the monster is licking his teeth.

“Steve…” he murmurs and that’s the first word he has ever said.

He doesn't really know what a Steve is but he hopes that’s a good word, being the first he ever pronounced.

“Yeah! That’s me! I’m Steve!” The boy insists and in his eyes, there is hope for recognition “I’m Steve and you are Eddie! Right?”

The monster tilts his head, still straddling the boy.

“Eddie?” He asks again, but this time the boy doesn’t try to move.

Eddie is a familiar word but it means nothing to the creature that’s hovering over him, so he keeps scenting the air, tasting it on his tongue to be sure if the boy is a threat or not, and when he smells him, he smells like food.

The creature ducks his head, ready to continue his feasting, but something stops him.

Steve is a good word, the voice inside him tells him, too good to be eaten.

But there are other creatures out there, creatures named Jason, Andy, and many more, that they can devour without feeling guilty.

Steve is not on the list.

Steve is something they must protect, even from themselves.

It physically hurts removing himself from Steve’s body, an ache old and deep that has no words. The creature tastes the air with his long tongue and he tastes remorse, regret, and a pain he can’t explain.

It’s not physical, but it’s so strong that it makes his eyes water.

The creature that once was Eddie Munson gets up and stares at the boy. He has friends, the voice inside him reassures him, they’ll take care of him, so the monster steps back and turns toward the woods.

He knows that he is just a puppet, but if he still can, he will try to preserve what Steve is.

The creature turns one last time to stare at the boy, and for a moment he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the water: a dark weeping angel crying blood tears.

[rastro-writes]

Scars left by Love

Day 7: Scars

AO3 link

They laid in bed together, snuggled close, enjoying each other’s company. Twilight was ecstatic to spend time with his love.

“Have you…” Twilight started.

Wild turned his head sleepily toward his fiancé. When he didn’t continue, Wild hummed a question.

“Have you… ever talked about the scars people left in your life?” Twilight finished.

Wild turned in their bed to face him. Twilight was face up staring at the ceiling like it would reveal the secrets of the universe.

“What do you mean?” Wild asked.

“People, like our adventures, leave us with pain. Scars, even. Do you know what I mean?”

“A little bit. Have you?”.

“Not really. I’ve thought about it, but never talked about it,” he turned to face Wild, “but I’d like to, with you, Wild.”

Wild had a comforting smile at the trust Twi was placing in him. He’s told him about his past, but he never really talked about how it affected him before.

“I… my village was really small and quiet. You know, you’ve seen it. There was this girl I liked, she was sweet, comfortable, so patient. More than I deserved, really.” Twilight reminisced. But his expression turned dark.

“But then there was a monster raid, Bulbins, they took her and all the other village kids, I ran after them into the woods, and into a wall of darkness. A hand-“ he reached his hand out above him for emphasis-“reached out of the wall, grabbed me, and pulled me in. All I remember after that was feeling more tired than ever before, then agony as my wolf shape took over for the first time. Then when I woke up I was in a cell, with Midna watching from the shadows.”

He paused, calming himself from the memory of terror and pain.

“She was- a piece of work, at first. She seemed selfish, self focused, and manipulative. Which. To be fair, she absolutely was manipulative. But her self centeredness was how she worried about her people. So I eventually understood it at least.”

He turned back to face Wild.

“But she opened up my own world to me. We escaped that prison below Hyrule castle. She got me home. I saved the Light Spirit of Faron Woods, they purged the darkness from me, and returned my body to me, with that green tunic and chainmail. It took so long to do what I set out to do. To save the kids of my village. Ilia had lost her memory, somehow, along the way. I wonder if that was a blessing in disguise. My entire adventure was about pushing me further out of my zone, out of my control. Having to do more and more ridiculous and treacherous things with Midna’s help, along most of the way.”

His breath hitched as Wild listened, cobalt blue meeting cerulean.

“Sometime along the way. Probably when Zant tried to kill her. I realized. I didn’t want her to die. I cared about her. She was important to me, by then. And feeling her clutch to me back, paler than I thought possible, and dying. Even as Dusk gave her life force to Midna, all I could feel was relief at Midna being better. It wasn’t- it wasn’t until she left that I realized. I loved her. And her leaving hurt, so damn much. I couldn’t stand it.”

Wild brought his hand up to Twilight's face, as tears pooled in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“You don’t have to keep going, Twi.”

Twilight smiled up at him, even as tears fell down, turned his face to kiss Wild’s palm.

“I want to, now. To show you how much you mean to me… I never thought I’d fall in love again. Ilia was the comforting girl back home, Midna was the girl that showed me the world with her sass and snark as I gawked like a tourist, while also fighting to not get flattened by any number of things. After Midna I didn’t expect to love again. Then I had those dreams as a Wolf, wandering an entire new world alongside you. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the same. I fell for you, little by little. And then when, against all the odds, impossibly, we met again when the goddesses dropped me in front of a Talus, I never wanted to let you go again. Even before I realized I loved you, I still never wanted to let you go.”

Wild was tearing up a bit now, too, “I remember how handsome you looked, when you woke up at camp and looked up at me like I was the most important person you’ve ever seen, right then. I didn’t even get why, but it’s not a look you forget.”

“Goddesses, I made a fool of myself. I blame the concussion.” Twilight lamented, covering his face with his hands, the heavy mood dispelled for a moment.

“Blame whatever you want, that moment is living in my head forever.”

Twilight smiled under his hands, dropping them to see Wild still looking at him, smiling himself.

“It took way too long to realize what I was feeling was love…”

“But you figured it out. And so did I, luckily.” Wild added.

“Ugh, you were so much better about it, though.”

“Hey, you didn’t even know that was an option, give yourself some slack.”

“Do not remind me, Legend gave me shit for weeks.”

They both laughed at that, Wild remembering some of the truly awful jokes leveled at his then-boyfriend for his obliviousness.

“But, the important thing for me…” Twilight started again, “was that I loved you, and realizing you loved me back. The pure joy I felt right then, nothing else mattered. For weeks, I could just look at you and think ‘that’s my boyfriend’, and anything else that was wrong, exhaustion from a fight, boredom from a long walk, the soreness of a bruise, would vanish just by seeing your face, hearing your voice, or holding your hand… Midna left me with a scar over my heart that I never thought would heal. A scar that would just ache and burn, until it killed me inside.”

Wild’s smile faded from the idea he was hurting that much inside even when they first met. “But you saw me. A messed up, gawking weird though I was, literally dogged-” Wild chuckled at the terrible joke, “-and totally out of my world, and my element, and you helped me find a new reason. And it was good to help you again, too.”

“And finding love again…” Twilight took Wild’s hand, a hand that felt so familiar, but felt like electricity, even after all this time, “it was the most exciting adventure of all, and I’m so glad I got to share it with you, Wild. And I want it to be an adventure we share, for a long time.”

Twilight lifted his face to Wild’s hanging over his, and Wild brought his face down, their lips meeting in a gentle caress, and a loving embrace as they twined their hands together, enjoying each other, and the love they share.

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader/Flight attendant Chapters: 1 of 1 Word count: 4.7K Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a particularly rough flight you're suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, But no specific identifiers, Description of Anxiety, Panic Attack, Mild PTSD, Fear of Flying, Pet Names, PWP, One-Shot, Semi-public Sex, You Have to Be Quiet, Bathroom Sex, Mile High Club, Dirty Talk, Light Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms

A/N: Well, this was supposed to be a quick little smutty thing that ended up getting away from me! But it was fun, and a nice exercise to work on outside of my series. And even with not being able to write at all for a good few days of it, two and half weeks for over 4.5k+ words (from scratch!) is definitely a record for me!

I have to give a shout-out to the many thots that come from the Andy Discord, and @tarrenterror for this one specifically. 😉 I hope you enjoy this little drabble that ended up turning into way more than that! 💕

Title is from "Learn To Fly" by the Foo Fighters

AO3 Link

Run and tell all of the angels This could take all night Think I need a devil to help me get things right

Yesterday’s flight from Lisbon to Johannesburg had been a long and turbulent one with a very rough landing, much rougher than you’re used to even after three years as a flight attendant. 

The storms had kept you circling in the sky waiting for a break that refused to come, and after a long-haul flight the fuel was getting low so the pilot didn’t have a choice but to land. The plane hadn’t ended up going off of the rain-slicked runway but it was damned close, and you've been on edge ever since.

Even the tedious interview with the SACA Authority wasn't annoying enough to distract you for long, and neither last night’s patchy sleep, nor the mini-bar Red Bull are helping the persistent shake in your hands, but you have a fifteen hour flight to Corfu leaving today so you get yourself moving, hoping that a shower and some food will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You’re not able to eat very much either, but mercifully last night’s storms have cleared and takeoff into a cloudless blue sky is smooth and uneventful, although your stomach is still acting like the toast you had managed to eat was an affront to your body.

You've never been airsick and you'd really prefer not to break your streak, not least because of the razzing you’ll get if you do, so you’re grateful when the plane finally levels off so that you can find your equilibrium again, and once the “Seatbelt” sign goes dark you're grateful for the distraction as you start rolling the beverage cart down the aisle.

Working on autopilot you don’t realize how completely you’ve zoned out until fingers are closing over yours as you hand a passenger his drink, barely catching his question.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Nudged out of your daze you finally look down at the man you’re serving.

He’s wearing dark jeans with heavy boots and a black button-up, the collar open to expose black ink across his chest and collarbones, sleeves rolled up to expose more tattoos on his forearms - or forearm, rather. Your brain tries to parse why his one arm looks not-quite-right until you realize it’s a prosthesis, although it's far more realistic than any you've ever seen apart from the distinct seams running through it. 

When you finally meet his you're quickly drawn in by bright blue eyes contrasted with tanned skin and dark salt and pepper curls, and while his hair is a bit shaggy you can faintly see another tattoo arcing beneath it.

It feels like your brain is on a delay, caught off guard by a combination of the inquiry and his striking features, and after several moments of your confused stare his eyes flick to where your hands are still connected. Suddenly you’re aware that inside the calm pressure of his fingers, yours are trembling, and it clicks that he must have seen the liquid shaking in the glass when you handed it to him.

"Oh. I'm ok,” You finally respond, giving your head a quick shake. “There was just a lot of turbulence on my flight coming in yesterday, and then we almost went off the runway, so..I guess I’m still a bit shaky, that's all.” 

You’re surprised that you answer him honestly but something about the way that he focuses on you, his eyes sharply observant, has you dropping the professional guard that you normally keep airtight with passengers. 

“Ah, that was you,” he says, finally releasing your hand and taking the proffered glass. “I heard about that. And you’re still back on a plane, today? That’s impressive.” 

His words are earnest as he tips his drink at you, and you find yourself fighting the flush that warms your skin at his praise.

“Well, it is my job," you reply, trying to keep your shrug nonchalant. "But thank you for your concern, sir.” Trying to brush off the brief flash in his eyes you work to settle your polite customer service mask back into place.

“Well, it sounds like you can handle it. But if you need a distraction,” the man takes a sip of his drink, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial timbre, “I might be able to help with that.” 

Meeting his eyes with a start you definitely see a dark glint in them now, the casual certainty in his tone that making it difficult to mistake his meaning.

It’s not the first time you’ve been propositioned - in fact it’s pretty par for the course in this world - and normally your reply would be quick and trite, saccharin words shutting down the standard attempts at flirting with a captive audience that you’re used to dealing with. But the teasing lilt of his words and the way the colour of his eyes deepens as they flick over your body sends an unexpected thrum of heat between your legs.

You're still trying to work out a reply when an annoyed voice cuts through the tension.

“Uh, miss? Maybe someone else could get a drink over here, today?"

“Of course. I’ll be right there,” you reply quickly, plastering an apologetic smile on your face, unsure whether you feel relieved or frustrated by the interruption. 

Relieved, you tell yourself. You're relieved. 

You manage not to look at the man again while you finish serving the rest of the food and drinks, but on your way back up the aisle when you finally allow yourself a glance as you pass his seat he calmly meets your eyes, making no attempt to hide that he was watching you.

You thought that you were going to make it the rest of the flight without incident, but in the early morning dark just a few hours before landing the plane hit a patch of turbulence, and even though it was barely a shake you had jolted awake instantly.

Now, while the rest of the plane slumbers on you’re tucked in the alcove back by the washrooms with your eyes squeezed shut, jacket and scarf discarded at your feet as your heart does its best to escape through your chest wall. Even though the plane is perfectly smooth now your nerves have returned in full force, fingers tingling as you try to will the cold, hollow feeling in your gut away from spreading into your limbs.

You feel a presence enter your personal space at the same time that you see the shadow fall over you through closed eyelids, and the voice you hear is low and calm, sliding its way into your consciousness between panicked breaths.

“Take a deep breath, love.”

Forcing your eyes open, you see the tattooed passenger from earlier standing in front of you.

“I don’t know what’s- I’ve never been like this before on a flight,” you feel compelled to explain as tears of frustration prick at your eyes. “I just can’t catch my-” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down so you don't disturb the sleeping passengers.

He glances over his shoulder briefly and then back at you, pausing for a moment as he seems to consider something, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s quickly guiding you into an unoccupied washroom, following closely and locking the door behind you.

Taking your hands in his, he moves them so that your palms are pressed flat against his chest, and when he speaks his words are steady but firm.

“Now, take a deep breath for me."

As he draws a slow, deep breath himself it dawns on you that he wants you to mimic him, so on his next inhale you match it by taking a shaky gulp of air into your lungs, and when he holds his breath at the top of it for a few seconds you do the same. Letting your eyelids slip closed you find that you’re able to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the feeling of warm fabric over firm muscle, on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this but steadily your nerves begin to settle, every breath calmer than the last. 

As your senses start to slide back into place you become aware of calloused palms covering yours, of your breath mixing in the shared space between you, and when you open your eyes again you’re greeted by the sight of both of your hands framing his chest beneath the open collar of his shirt.

“How are you feeling now?” The soft gravel of his voice draws your attention upward, appraising eyes meeting yours.

“Better. I…thank you. Really.” You reply truthfully, feeling better than you have in the past forty-eight hours.

Logically you know that you should end this now, that you need to pull away and return to the rest of the plane to prepare for the approaching dawn, but instead you feel frozen in place beneath his gaze.

“Good,” he says, making no a move to pull away, either.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline still working its way out of your system, or the way that his hands sliding up your forearms makes you shiver, or the heady musk of sweat and cologne mixing with the warmth of your bodies in the close space, but when you do move it’s not to pull away.  Instead you tighten your fists in the fabric of his shirt and when you tug he immediately responds, crowding closer until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

Keeping his eyes on yours his hands drop to your waist before sliding slowly around the curve of your hips, and when he tugs you against him you gasp when you feel the stiffening curve of his erection pressing into your abdomen.

He leans in close enough that his lips brush the crest of your ear, and though his breath is hot on your skin his words raise goosebumps along your neck.

“Would you like your distraction now?”

You can hear the smile curling around the sweet tease of his words, and you hum an affirmation, unable to help the roll your hips against his arousal.

“What was that?” 

There’s a sharper edge to his voice when he prompts you again.

“Yes,” you say more firmly, startled by how he’s managed to drop your guard and stoke your need so quickly, the warm ache between your thighs swelling from his proximity and a few simple words.

Pulling back, a hand moves to cup your cheek as you look at him through hooded eyes, a thumb sliding under your chin to tilt your face up and then his mouth is closing over yours, full lips surprisingly soft as they drag across yours in a teasing slide, and just when you feel the faint flick of his tongue and you part your lips to deepen the kiss, he pulls away. 

For a long moment time seems to hang suspended in the sharp blue of his eyes, and then as if drawn by a magnet it’s you that’s moving and your mouth is on his again, your own tongue flicking against the seam of his lips and you sigh when he parts them. 

The kiss quickly deepens as you run your hands over the broad muscle of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his tongue swirls against yours, licking deeper and growling into your mouth when your hips start to roll against him more urgently. It’s not long before your touch grows frantic, both of you seeking more, fingers blindly grasping at fabric and tugging at buttons until his shirt hangs open, forgoing yours entirely as he tugs it up over your head before pulling you back against him, a hand sliding beneath your bra to cup your breast as he kisses you breathless in a growing fervor of tongues and teeth, 

When you try to lift your leg but your skirt stops you he tugs at the hem, pulling it up until it’s bunched around your middle and when you hitch your leg around his waist he grabs your hips in his hands, your cunt throbbing as he grinds you against the rough denim covering the now very prominent ridge of his cock.

Then suddenly his tattooed hand is finding its way between your bodies and sliding down to find the juncture of your legs, your mouth dropping open with a helpless moan when his fingers press the damp fabric against your sex.

“How are you feeling now, love?” He pants against your lips, his teasing words now rough with lust “Dis-distracted.” You huff a breathless laugh.

"That’s good,” he hums. “But you’re going to have to be quieter than that. You wouldn’t want to wake the other passengers, now, would you?”

His fingers press more firmly now, the friction of the slick fabric against your clit has you biting back a moan as you buck into his touch.

Taking a steadying breath you glance at the door before flicking your eyes back to his and shaking your head, No. 

With a pleased look his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as his fingers part you, sliding through your already damp folds and down to your entrance and you bite your lip as just the tip of his finger presses into you, gathering your arousal before sliding back up to nudge against your clit.

Then he does it again, fingers only swirling against the sensitive bud for a few seconds before dipping back down to find more of your slick, tracing and re-tracing the path along your sex until you’re trembling, and maybe it’s the altitude but you’re startled by how quickly you feel your orgasm building just from his teasing touch.

“Oh my god, I-” You whimper.

“What, love?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his words, but he must take pity on your desperation because his focus is only on your clit now, pressing firmly and quickly picking up on your needy rhythm as you rock against his hand, a shaky whisper squeaking from your throat.

“So close, oh my god oh-”

One of your hands flies up to your mouth to stifle the moans you can no longer hold back, faintly aware of rough words whispered into the space where you hover between anticipation and ecstasy, Let go, just like that. And then all of your thoughts are wiped away, eyes squeezing shut as your body tenses in bliss and you come hard, swells of pleasure surging out from the point where his fingers firmly coax your writhing hips to take what you need. 

His hand stays pressed against you even as the waves start to soften, feeling the aftershocks that continue to ripple through your cunt as your body relaxes and you drift back to awareness, and only when you go limp, your hand dropping from your mouth with a sigh does he release your thigh and remove his hand from between your legs. 

Though you’re still unfocused and trying to catch your breath, when his hands move to his belt your eyes follow, watching as he unbuckles it and then lowers the zipper, pushing his underwear and jeans down together until his cock bobs free, thick and glossy with precum at the tip. You lick your lips at the sight and he smirks at your greedy stare, stroking himself lazily a few times, smearing you along his length with the hand that was just between your legs.

Then without warning he grabs your waist, turning and pushing you forward and you have to quickly brace yourself against the wall as rough hands push your panties down around your thighs, and you hear a hitch in his breathing behind you as he grips your ass, slowly massaging and spreading you open.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright love?” 

It’s a question that’s not really a question at all, but his rumbled words have you instinctively arching yourself into his hands and when you look back over your shoulder you go breathless, the blue of his eyes ocean deep and rough at the edges as he takes in the sight of your exposed sex. 

“Can see how wet you are,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself as he finds your soaked entrance again, and you barely manage to hold back a moan when he slowly slides a thick finger into your tight heat.

“Yes, you certainly seemed to like that, didn’t you?” 

His words are maddening but you’re unable to help the shuddering gasp when he adds a second finger, continuing to pump deep into you until his hand is shining with you.

“Shhh, listen," he hushes, and you bite your lip as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, the soft wet sounds of the slide and suck of them every time they sink into you obscene in the small space. “Already so messy, but I want to know how much more of a mess you’ll make when I’m fucking you on my cock.” 

You whine at the loss as he withdraws his fingers from you, using them again to slick himself with your arousal before pressing forward, and you tremble with anticipation when you feel the thick head slide through your folds to line up with your entrance.

The grip of his prosthetic hand on your hip is strong as he holds you in place, the thought fighting it’s way through the lust that it’s more than just what it seems - and that you should probably be concerned by that - but you can’t seem to find the will to care when his cock starts slowly sinking into you. 

Your eyelids flutter and you have no control over the gritted moan that escapes from your throat as he stretches you open, and he quickly moves his other hand to cover your mouth.

“I’d love nothing more than to make you cry out til you’re hoarse,” he growls between clenched teeth. “To find out what pretty sounds you make when you’re desperate. But right now I need you to be good for me and stay quiet. Can you do that, love?”

You’re not actually sure if you can, but the only clear thought in your mind is that you need him to keep going, so you nod against the resistance of his hand. 

Feeling your agreement he releases your mouth and moves both hands back to your hips, continuing the slow slide of his cock into you. Just barely managing to tamp down the sounds he’s drawing from your throat you once again focus on taking deep, shaky breaths as your fingers grasp at nothing on the wall, and even though the aching stretch of him is almost too much all you can think is that you want more.

Laying your palms flat you brace yourself against the wall and push back, rocking your hips to encourage him deeper, but he’s thick and even with your effort there's not enough leverage in this position to take him as deep as you want to.

However that doesn’t seem to stop him from letting you try.

"You can do better than that, can't you?” His words are an infuriating tease. “Don't you want to take all of it?"

You know he can sense how frustrated you’re getting as you continue to move, but he's still keeping himself just far enough back that you struggle to take him deeper. 

“Don’t you want to make me?” You grit back, startled by the low heat of your words.

“Careful, love. I’m not sure that you want me to ‘make you’.” 

His words are black as pitch as fingers dig roughly into the flesh of your hips, your cunt fluttering around his cock at the warning in his voice.

“Ohhh, but look at that.” he sighs, suddenly. ”Aren’t you a sight.”

Your movements falter, confusion interrupting your frustration until a hand grips your chin and turns your head toward the far wall so that your eyes fall on your disheveled reflections in the small mirror there, gasping as you take in the image of yourself, glassy-eyed and panting and still desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock.

When you meet his eyes through the mirror a slow grin spreads across his lips, and then his hand moves to cover your mouth again.

Your brows knit in confusion since you thought that you had managed to keep mostly quiet, but you only have a second to wonder what he's doing when without warning he thrusts hard, pulling you roughly back onto his cock at the same time and stifling your cry of surprise behind his hand as he finally buries himself all the way to the hilt.

"I know, shhh, it's alright, love,” he pants against your cheek. “Wanted me to make you, yeah?”

A muffled moan is your only response as he uses the hand that’s over your mouth to keep your head pressed back against his shoulder, then just barely pulling out of you he grips your hip tight with his prosthetic hand and thrusts back into you.

“Christ you feel so fucking good.” he grits out, rutting into you harder, and the fact that you can tell he's fighting to keep his own groans under control makes the bloom of pleasure in your cunt deepen as he fills you again and again, unable to hold back the whining pant in your throat at every jolt of his hips against your ass.

You try to brace your hands more firmly against the wall but your elbows buckle as he leans into you, thrusting hard, and you hold yourself on your forearms instead, hearing a delicious grunt in your ear every time he bottoms out. The muscles of your cunt begin to tighten, the angle and the deep friction of his cock grinding against the sensitive spot behind your clit sending white hot sparks beneath your eyelids, and you feel like if you could just get your fingers on your clit you’d be there.

You manage to steady yourself on one arm as the other hand reaches desperately down between your legs, the brush of your fingers over your clit rough and unsteady as he continues to fuck you but it doesn’t matter, it only takes a few circling swipes and every sense is tightening its focus on his cock and your fingers.

“Are you going to come for me again?” His growled whisper stutters with the rhythm of his thrusts.

But even if his hand wasn’t over your mouth  you couldn’t have responded, your only thought the breathless pressure of your climax rising higher and higher, blinding you to anything else as your vision goes grey at the edges and your body spasms around and against him, a desperate moan shuddering through your chest as your orgasm finally overtakes you. 

Not letting up he continues to fuck you through it, every stroke of his cock achingly deep, but it’s not long before you feel his rhythm start to falter and with a final few thrusts he stills, the tight grip of his fingers digging into your jaw until you feel the throb of his cock as he comes, shaking against you and biting back a guttural sound as he spends himself deep in your cunt. The last waves of your climax have you still clenching around him, and while the movement of his hips slows he keeps himself buried in you as deep as possible so that you can do nothing but take every last drop.

You gasp to catch your breath when he releases your mouth and finally collapses against you. Pressing you into the wall he pants into your hair, the weight of him almost helping to keep you upright while your body is still shaky and unsteady.

After a few long moments like this you eventually feel him shift and pull back, both of you biting back one last moan as he slowly slides out of you, finding yourself aching at the loss.

“You go out first,” you say, still slightly breathless. “I'm..I need a second to clean up.”

“No, you don’t.” 

His tone is casual, and you don't really understand. 

“Um, after that? Yeah, I do.” You laugh a little, assuming that he’s joking.

“No. You don't.” He repeats firmly and turns to face you, a glint of gold flashing through his grin as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Because that wasn’t your distraction.”

“It’s...what?” You stammer, still trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Your distraction,” he continues, stepping back into your space “will be feeling my cum leaking out of you for the rest of the flight.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock.

“Maybe it’ll soak through your panties. Start dripping down your legs as you walk around serving coffee, and you’ll have to act like I didn’t fill your needy little cunt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pant. “What...who the hell are you?” It’s all you manage to get out as your mind swirls at his words.

He doesn’t answer your question, but when his expression darkens you can almost hear the words he doesn’t say: Maybe it’s best you don’t know, love.

“You should get dressed.” His eyes flick pointedly to where your panties are still down around your thighs, your skin flushing with embarrassed heat as he patiently watches you finally absorb his meaning, but something in his smirk has a swell of defiance surging through you, and perhaps there’s another kind of heat there as well.

Doing your best to fix a neutral expression on your face you keep your eyes on his as you slowly pull the garment back up before tugging your skirt down from where it’s bunched around your waist. Finally you pull your shirt back on, straightening and smoothing everything back into place as best you can before quickly fixing your hair.

Once you’ve tucked your flyaways behind your ears you meet his eyes again with an expectant arch of your brow.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly grin and gestures towards the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was right, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. 

There was more turbulence just before landing prep but you don’t feel the spike of adrenaline that you had before, as if the circuit of anxiety had been interrupted. Instead all you can think about is the slick warmth growing between your thighs with every step you take, and every time you glance at him he’s watching you, a persistent thrum of heat low in your belly at the knowing smile that curls the corner of his lips

About two months later, on the same long-haul flight from Johannesburg to Corfu, you’ve started walking the drink cart down the aisle when you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm leaning on the armrest. 

It could be anyone, you reason. Lots of people have tattoos.

You pretend that you’re not eager to reach the seat, but as you approach your breath quickens when the distinct arc of ink running up his neck and beneath a fresh undercut comes into view.

“Hello, love,” he greets you with a familiar grin. 

Heat slides through your core when you hear the voice that’s haunted your dreams for weeks, and you try to keep your words steady as you repeat the practiced refrain.

“What can I get for you today, sir?” 

“I have something for you, actually,” he replies, reaching a hand into his pocket and withdrawing a folded slip of paper, holding it up for you to take. 

After a beat you pluck it from between his fingers, opening it to see an address that you recognize as a hotel not far from the airport. And a name.

Ulysses Klaue.

Somehow unsurprised that he would have a name like that, you meet his eyes as you tuck the paper into the pocket of your jacket.

“Your drink order, then..Mr. Klaue?”

“Whiskey, please. And call me Ulysses, love.”

You bite back a smile as you move to serve the next passenger, wondering if you’ll have to wait the full fifteen hour flight to feel his hand between your legs again.

But judging by the glint in his eyes when you look back at him, you having a feeling that you won’t.

A/N: As always, thank you so very much for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed reader's smutty little adventure in the sky. 😉

[dawninlatin]

manorian angst

When dark forces threaten, the leaders of Erilea must come to aid in yet another war to save their world. The problem is that Manon barely survived the hell that was the last war, and she can't go through it again.

Words: 3.1K | Masterlist | AO3 Link

«Tell me.» Manon ordered as she marched into the throne room, having landed in Orynth mere minutes ago. Abraxos had flown like the wind itself to get them here as soon as possible.

«Nice to see you too,» Aelin drawled from her throne, but her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The room was filled with the rest of her court, and a few other leaders from Erilea’s kingdoms, including one blue-eyed king. 

«I don’t have time for this. Tell. Me.» Manon wasn’t known to be polite, even on her good days, but her heart had been racing ever since she’d received word of a new, rising threat causing her presence to be needed in Orynth immediatley, and she couldn’t think clearly when she was fighting the panic rising within her.

Not another war. Please, not another war.

«A few days ago, a portal opened, right outside of Orynth. A young female came from it, fae, frantic, begging us in the old language to help her people against these god-like creatures.» Aelin drew a shaking breath, Rowan placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

«We know them better as the valg.»

Manon’s ears started ringing, images of collars and cold, empty eyes appearing in her mind. Of her sisters disappearing in blinding flashes of light, one by one.

She could only half-listen as Aelin explained how she’d seen this world before, when she fell through the wyrdgates, how the valg they had defeated seemed harmless in comparison to these beings that could drain whole worlds of all life, how they had tried to drain this world before, and only gotten stronger since then, how they would eventually come back.

«But not if we help them.» It was Dorian that spoke this time, and Manon would be lying if she said his voice didn’t affect her any bit.

«No.» Manon hardly needed to think. There was no way she was doing this again. She’d barely survived the last war, was barely surviving now. 

Aelin stared at her in shock. Manon couldn’t blame her. They didn’t know she was merely a ghost of who she used to be.

«You closed the gates. Our world can’t be reached,» Manon tried, but it sounded pathetic, desperate.

«She managed to reach us,» Aelin whispered. «Please.»

«No.»

She could feel a pair of sapphire eyes boring into her, and when she turned to look at him, Dorian’s face was full of hurt and betrayal. «Manon-»

«No.» Dorian could hate her all he liked, as long as it meant he was safe. Because how could she explain that just thinking about another war nearly made her suffocate? 

The king gave her a long look, before turning on his heel and storming out.

-

Manon flung the door open, moving into the room where she knew the king would be. «You’re not doing this either. You’re not throwing yourself into this war.» 

Dorian held her gaze for a long moment before he finally spoke, his face unreadable. «If you don’t want to fight with us, fine, there’s nothing I can do, apart from getting on my knees and begging, but I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. I refuse to see this world be destroyed after everything we did to save it.»

When Manon didn’t answer, he turned his back to her, stepping towards the tall window overlooking the gardens. «There’s nothing left for us to discuss, then.» The words were a dismissal, a cue for Manon to leave, and they left a stinging sensation in her heart.

Everything would have been a lot easier if she could leave, but she couldn’t. Not until she’d won this fight. 

Over by the window, Dorian’s jaw tightened with suppressed anger, still not looking at her. A thin layer of frost began covering the glass as she just stood there, remaining silent. 

What was there to say, anyway? That in the past two years, she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d gotten a good night’s sleep? That every time she closed her eyes, she saw her sisters racing towards their deaths, leaving her behind? That when the nightmares were at their worst, Dorian joined them? 

The truth was that Manon was hanging on by a thread, barely keeping her pain and despair hidden.

She needed to say something, though, because she had seen this determination in Dorian before, right before he’d flown off to Morath, fully prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant saving everyone else.

And it was at the memory of waking up alone in a cold tent, terrified, but also so angry, that Manon regained her ability to speak.

«Dorian, please-»

She blinked, and the ice that had slowly been creeping over the window evaporated. Dorian’s head snapped up, and he looked as if she’d struck him. The voice she’d just used hadn’t fully sounded like her own, so raw and full of anguish.

«I can’t-» Manon began, but that voice failed her, her words ending in a hitch of breath. Tears were pressing behind her eyes, dangerously close to shedding.

«You can’t what?» Dorian asked her then, the question so careful, so far from the resolve he’d showed mere moments ago.

She couldn’t do this, was what, Manon thought to herself, but she was about to rupture, about to shatter into a million little pieces she had fought tooth and nail to hold together for the past two years.There was no power in any realm that could stop it, and Dorian would bear witness to it.

«Witchling…» Dorian whispered, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was so close now, and to her shock, Manon realized she was the one who’d moved closer, craving the comfort of his arms.

«I can’t go through it again. Dorian, please don’t-»

She drew a shuddering breath, but she couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs. Closing her eyes, Manon let the dam break.

«I can’t… I can’t lose more of the people I love when I barely have anyone left! I’m terrified, every fucking second of every fucking day that you’ll fly off on some suicide mission again because you have this insane idea that you need to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else, and I can’t do it, Dorian! I can’t lose-»

She practically screamed it at the king, hitting his chest as the words ended in choked sobs.

Dorian didn’t say anything as he grabbed hold of her arms, then pulled her close. Manon kept heaving, feeling as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, her vision clouded by tears

«Breathe, Manon. Just breathe.» Dorian’s hands moved up and down her back in a soothing motion, taking deep breaths alongside her. «In,» she tried inhaling with him, getting a little more air, «and out.» 

They stood there for what felt like forever, Dorian whispering quiet encouragements, stroking her back, until Manon’s heart finally calmed a little, her breaths becoming more steady.

Manon looked up at Dorian, giving him a wordless thank you. In return, he gave her a soft smile, and Manon was so grateful that he always seemed to know what she tried to communicate, even when she couldn’t find the right words.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, if only slightly, as if he realized something.

«Did you just tell me you love me?» Dorian held her gaze, and part of her wanted to pull away at the intensity of it, but those sapphire eyes had her hypnotized.

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Manon could hear the disbelief, the hope. It was enough to halt her crying, to make her forget, for a moment, that they were actually in the middle of a very important argument.

«That was what you got out of this? Of course I fucking love you, you complete idiot! Are you-»

She knew she sounded hysteric, but before she could finish her sentence, Dorian caught her lips with his.

The kiss was hungry, all-consuming, saying all the words neither of them could voice. 

Manon answered with that same desperate hunger, the salt of her tears mixing with a familiar taste that could only be described as Dorian. 

She needed to be even closer to him, lose herself in the pleasure only he could give her, but Dorian pulled away, panting. His hands cupped her face, and Manon felt the soft caress of an invisible finger move across her lips.

He looked almost wild, and his eyes were stormy as he spoke in a low and raspy voice. «I love you too, Manon. You have no idea how-»

This time, she was the one who pounced, lips crashing against his. If their former kiss was hungry, this one was ravenous. She opened herself up to him, his tongue entering her mouth. She sucked on it, and a low noise came from his throat. His hands moved down, down, to cup her ass, and she grabbed the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist. 

Dorian started walking them towards the bed, meanwhile Manon kissed a trail across his jaw, down his throat, letting her teeth graze over his pulse point. She could feel him growing harder and harder against her, and her core throbbed in answer, needing to be filled.

As he reached the bed, Dorian carelessly tossed her onto it, immediately going to work on removing her clothes. His phantom hands started pulling off her trousers, while Dorian unlaced her shirt. He reached a hand inside to cup one of her breasts, brushing a finger over an already peaked nipple. Manon moaned, urging him to just take the damn shirt off.

He obeyed with a dark chuckle, but he was still too clothed in Manon’s opinion. Dorian stepped out of his own pants, while Manon, ever so impatient, simply ripped his shirt in half.

«What if I really liked that shirt?» Dorian teased, but Manon didn’t have time for his usual swagger. Letting out a near-feral growl, she reached for him, pulling him closer.

They were both naked now, and Manon claimed his mouth in a rough kiss whilst one of her hands  moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock. She gave it a firm stroke once, twice, and Dorian groaned before he pushed her back down on the bed, beginning to kiss a trail down her neck, over her breasts, down-

«Inside me. Now.»

Manon grabbed his hair and pulled him back up to her mouth. She was already dripping wet, her cunt begging for him to fill her with his impressive length.

Invisible hands snaked up her legs, spreading them, and then Dorian lined himself up, filling her in one long, glorious stroke. She moaned at the tight fit, at the bolts of pleasure shooting up her spine. 

Dorian panted, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His lips found her pulse, and he sucked right as he started moving inside her.

Manon held him tightly, clawing at his back as he slammed to the hilt over and over again, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes, and the new angle pulled an almost animalistic noise out of her as he brushed against her clit.

Already, she could feel that great wave rising, that blissful release beckoning. Dorian was close too, judging by the way he was panting, his rhythm faltering. He lifted his head and his eyes locked onto hers. Gold meeting sapphire. She couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. It was hypnotizing.

They were both desperate, two souls trying to get as close to each other as possible.

«Say that you’re mine,» Dorian growled, a low noise coming from his throat as Manon tightened her legs around him.

«I’m yours,» Manon moaned, unable to even identify all the emotions she was feeling in this moment. 

«You’re mine.»

«I’m yours.» 

Then he brought his thumb down on her clit, and that great wave crashed over her.

Manon screamed with pleasure, but the sound was muffled as Dorian’s mouth crashed into hers. He thrust into her hard, she could feel his cock throb inside her, could feel her cunt gripping him tight, and as she bit down on his lower lip, he followed her over the edge with a scream of his own.

-

«I’ll fight with you,» Manon said at last, looking up from where she was nestled against Dorian’s chest. A phantom hand was tracing circles on her upper thigh, but she was so exhausted the motion was more soothing than arousing. «I’ll ask my people, too, but I won’t force anyone, not after all they’ve been through.»

Dorian seemed to think for a moment. «I won’t pretend I’m not glad you’ll fight with us though I do feel a bit guilty.» He winced as he said that last part.

Manon touched her fingers to his lips, as if memorizing their shape. «You shouldn’t,» she said, not meeting his eyes. «Part of me knew from the beginning this was the right thing to do, I was just too much of a coward to admit it.» 

«Look at me.» He grabbed her chin, tilting her face upwards. «You’re not a coward. You are so strong, Manon, and we’ve hardly had time to catch our breath since the last war, in which you went through hell. Not wanting to go through that again doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you…» he trailed off, looking for the right word.

«Human?» Manon suggested with a small laugh.

Dorian smiled. «In lack of a better term, yes.»

She remembered a different time, when being called human had been the greatest insult there was, when it had been beaten into her, time and time again, that caring made her weak. That love was for foolish cowards. It pleased her to know that in the end, her grandmother had lost that battle too.

Closing her eyes, Manon whispered, «I’m just so tired of being afraid all the time.» Another tear slipped free, but Dorian wiped it away quickly. She buried her head in his chest as she started crying once more, the sobs silent this time. Dorian only held her tighter, as she shook, stroking her hair.

Two years ago, Manon never would have allowed herself to show this much emotion, to even feel this much emotion, but she was weary, both body and soul, and she couldn’t keep fighting any longer. 

«It will get better. I promise.»

One day, she vowed to herself, even if that wasn’t today, Manon would believe him. 

«And I am sorry for how I left things when I went to Morath.»

«It was crucial-» Manon began, but Dorian halted her, needing to finish his apology.

«I agree, it was crucial to winning the war, but I could have gone about it differently. You laid yourself bare in front of me, and in response, even when I knew how difficult that must have been for you, I left in the dead of night without a word. For that, I am sorry.»

Manon held his gaze, something settling within her at the words she’d unknowingly needed to hear.

«For what it’s worth, if you had woken me up to say goodbye, I probably would have followed you. I nearly did, actually, no matter how furious I was.»

«I’m surprised you didn’t propose this time, to get me to stay,» Dorian mused, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Feeling a smile tugging at her lips, Manon replied, «That plan didn’t work, if you don’t remember.» 

«Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.» He was clearly toying with her, but it made Manon feel a little lighter inside, so she decided to play along.

«You survive whatever hell we’re about to throw ourselves into, and I’ll propose again. I’ll get a ring and everything.» Manon punctuated the words with a trail of kisses down the hard planes of his stomach.

«Deal. You survive, and I promise I’ll say yes this time,» Dorian murmured, his hands going to her hair as she reached his cock, the length hardening once more.

Holding his gaze, Manon let out a breathless «Deal.»

-

«Do you want to know what I’m fighting for?» Dorian asked, his fingers not halting their soothing motions. Manon merely hummed in answer, both of them completely spent, physically and emotionally, after three more rounds.  

«I’m fighting for a future where we can spend days in bed like this, just the two of us, no interruptions, whether that be annoying council members or impending doom.»

 Manon snorted at that, and wasn’t that exactly why she loved him so much? Only Dorian could make her laugh at a time like this.

«But there won’t be a world for us to do that in if we do nothing.»

His words made Asterin’s voice echo inside Manon.

Live, Manon. Live.

And she would. She would take up this fight, join this war, so that she could one day simply live. She owed her cousin that much.

«Should we tell the others?» Something had straightened within her, and her voice sounded stronger, even if she didn’t move from her spot halfway on top of Dorian.

«In the morning. We both need to sleep, and I selfishly want us to stay in our own bubble a little longer.» Manon felt him sigh, and she looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as she brushed his hair out of his face.

«In the morning, then.»

Because the king was right, they needed to sleep. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, though inside, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her.

Bringing her face closer to his, she mouthed those three wondrous words against his lips, before claiming them. Right now, they could pretend they had all the time in the world. 

«I love you too,» Dorian murmured in between lazy, unhurried kisses.

When they settled at last, Manon was tucked against his side, head resting over his heart, its steady beat a soothing lullaby. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was Dorian pressing a kiss to her forehead.

And that night, no nightmares of the past haunted her. Instead, she dreamt of the future, of clear skies with wyverns flying over head, of lazy mornings spent in bed, of being woken up by a pair of small feet running down the hall and wide, blue eyes and a mess of white curls looking up at her. 

Manon would claw her way to that future if she had to.

Because they would win this war, they had to, and then she would finally allow herself to live.

A/N:

my will to live currently depends on us getting a glimpse of the throne of glass gang, especially manorian, in cc3:) we will get a book about them one day!! stay clowning fellow manorians<3<3

anyway, i rarely have the time to write anymore, because uni means you actually have to do schoolwork:( i should study for my chemistry exam rn, but i wanted to procrastinate, so i wrote fanfiction instead, you're welcome:):)

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @celestialams @darklingswhxore@onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams@rowaelinismyotp@rainbowcheetah512@zoyalovesbooks @wishfulimaginings @dreamlandreader

I keep a separate taglist for each ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

[talesfromthesnogbox]

I Was Wonderful

Summary: Steve thought maybe he'd be a basketball dad, he never thought he'd be a dance mom.

Rating: General

Word Count: 3,245

Notes: Hiya! This is a more fleshed out version of a thing I posted a few months back that ended up getting some traction. I haven't actually ever written for Steddie, sorry if the characterization is all over the place, I'm rusty!

Yes, this one did come to me midway through a Dance Moms rewatch. In all fairness, I grew up dancing so this fic was kind of inevitable. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

~~~

Steve Harrington never saw himself as a girl dad. 

After the dust settled with Vecna, and his crop of (now teenage) nuggets was safe, Steve went through a period of self discovery, or what Robin loves to call his “big gay awakening”. See, Steve Harrington was always a ladies man, no matter how much he struck out. So when he fell for one Eddie Munson, that was a shock to all, especially Steve. 

But big gay awakening aside, Steve and Eddie were madly and completely in love, and Steve didn’t care who knew it. Nothing had ever felt more natural in his life than being with Eddie, they just made sense together. Even years after Steve’s heartfelt confession, the two were still in their honeymoon phase, so nobody was surprised when one sunny Fourth of July, they announced they were going to start the adoption process.

Neither of them knew what to expect. They went to Wayne for advice, having adopted Eddie legally after he was dropped off on his doorstep all those years ago, but this was different. Not too many agencies were too ecstatic about the idea of two “unmarried” men taking on a child together in the year 1993. The process was long and frustrating, and frankly, Eddie was ready to give up.

“It’s been two years, maybe it’s just not meant to be Stevie.” 

Steve shook his head. “So then we push on through year three. It’ll happen Eddie, I know it.” He took Eddie’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing lightly.

“I just… Steve, I love you, and I wish I could give you the life you always wanted—”

“No, none of that Munson.” Steve cut him off. “Things change, I changed when I got to know you. I don’t need six little nuggets and a Winnebago to be happy. I need you and the life we have, and maybe a little bit of hope that one day we’ll find someone to take a chance on us.”

And suddenly, one day almost at the end of year three, someone finally took a chance on them. 

Steve played with his ring nervously as he sat and waited in the office at the adoption agency (they couldn’t legally get married, but that wasn’t to say they couldn’t wear rings and call each other husband to show their commitment to each other). Eddie listened intently to the social worker, explaining that their application had been approved, that the little one didn’t have anywhere else to go and they thought their home would be a good fit. Steve’s heart pounded in his ears, only catching half the conversation.

“Her name is Rosie—”

“Sorry, her?” Steve cut him off.

“Yes, eleven month old Rosemary Evelyn, born August 13th, 1995. She was born premature, and her mother had some complications during birth and passed away shortly after. Her father surrendered her, and she’s been in our care for just under a week.” The social worker could see Steve’s face contort in confusion. “Is that a problem, Steve?”

He shook his head. “No I just… I never… how could… can we meet her?” 

Steve Harrington never saw himself as a girl dad, until he met Rosemary Evelyn. 

Tears sprung to Eddie’s eyes as they were ushered into the play room, a small babbling little girl with dark curly hair, big blue eyes, and chubby rosy cheeks stared up at them. She smiled when she met their eyes, and instantly, they were gone for her.

Within a week, the Harrington house was fully baby-proofed, and Rosie Harrington was moving in. Steve felt a sense of fulfillment wash over him seeing Eddie hold her. It had only been a few days, but he already knew Eddie was the best dad on the planet. A year passed, and then two, and Steve was absolutely positive that no other dad was as good, or kind, or loving as Eddie Munson. 

But that frustrated the hell out of Steve.

One night, Steve collapsed on the couch next to Eddie, and exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I don’t get it. She loves Metallica, she’s obsessed with Lord of the Rings, but she doesn’t even want to try basketball.”

Eddie laughed. “Stevie, she’s only just turned four, are you really sad you aren’t raising a jock?”

“No! I just want to be able to share something with her like you are.” Eddie saw right through his worry and tugged Steve down, laying his head across his lap. 

“Baby, you’re nothing like your dad. You’re trying, you’re spending time with her, and she can see that, I promise you. Rosie loves you, and you’ll find something.” Eddie stroked Steve’s hair, seeing the worry dissipate. “Hey, Wayne is itching to see her before she starts preschool, why don’t we send her off to grandpa’s for the day, maybe he can get her to play ball or something.” 

Steve smiled. “Yeah, yeah I think she’d like that.”

When Eddie and Steve picked up Rosie from Wayne’s the next day, she wasn’t playing ball with him on the front lawn. Instead, their little girl ran to them in a droopy pink tutu and leotard with little ballet slippers. “Daddy! Daddy! Look what Grandpa Wayne gave me.” She was all smiles as she spun in place, nearly toppling over from lack of balance and excitement when Steve caught her.

“Wow princess, look at you!”

Wayne picked up a rogue sequin and grumbled. “Claudia was over earlier, they were showing something about Swan Lake on cable and the kiddo’s eyes lit up. We went for a walk downtown and looks like there’s a dance school that just opened up.”

Steve’s brows shot up. “Really? What do you think Rosie, should we go down there and see if they have any classes for you?”

That’s how Steve found himself a Saturday morning regular at Sparkle Steps Dance Centre. They had a routine down: the boys would wake her up, Steve would slick back Rosie’s hair into a delicate little ballet bun while she ate breakfast, they’d help her into her tights and leotard, tie her skirt, and pack her little shoes in her backpack and walk on over to the studio. Rosie would say hi to Ashley the receptionist, and hug Steve before her hour long 9am ballet class with Miss Abby in studio A. 

“Good morning Melissa, Kelly, Jill.” Steve sat in his regular spot in the viewing room with the other moms.

“Morning Steve!”

Steve Harrington had become an enigma to the moms at the studio. They loved to gossip about where Rosie’s mother was, who she was, and why she was never seen with Steve at the studio. But Rosie always came in early, perfectly dressed, and well mannered despite her sass at home. Steve pretended he didn’t hear what the moms at the studio were saying about him; he was 33 with the same great hair he’d had in high school, and charm to go along with it. He wore a wedding ring, but never spoke of a significant other, it was always just Steve and Rosie. 

Of course Eddie had wanted to join them, but wanted to give Steve space, have something that was his with their daughter, and he was perfectly happy to have a day to sleep in.

One of those quiet Saturday mornings, Rosie had insisted they stay after her ballet class to watch her new friend Rachel. “Daddy her feet make noise! Can I do that?”

Steve tilted his head as he watched the girls in the class stomp their feet and tap their toes. He knew Eddie would approve of the rhythmic sounds the tap shoes made, but worried it would be too much all at once. He looked to Melissa, “Rachel likes it?”

Melissa smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “She loves it, it keeps her busy and tires her out so she actually naps in the afternoon.” 

Steve nodded in approval. “Let me think about it, okay Princess?”

As soon as they’d arrived home, Steve grabbed Eddie and dialled Dustin. “We need to talk, Rosie wants to start tap.”

“Tap, like the noisy shoes tap?” Eddie’s eyes lit up. “That’s metal as fuck, Gareth will probably want to teach her how to drum next once she’s got the rhythm.”

“Steve, you can’t take her out of ballet, it’s the foundation of all dance, she needs that foundation.” Dustin rebutted through the phone. The kid was way too invested in his niece’s interests, and that’s probably why he was her favourite uncle. 

“No, no, she’d do both. Ballet and tap. But you don’t think that’ll overwhelm her will it? She’s only four.”

Eddie shook his head, and Dustin laughed. “Steve, she’s like the smartest kid I know aside from my own. She’ll do fine.”

“Dustin, your kid is like five months old.” Eddie chided him. “Stevie, Rosie is gonna be fine, let her do tap!” 

Just like that, Steve’s one hour at the dance studio Saturday mornings became two. “She’s so excited for the next class.” He chatted happily with Melissa. “But I’m confused, the taps didn’t come screwed on.”

Melissa giggled. “No sweetie, you’ve gotta screw them on yourself. Do you have a toolkit in your car?” 

Steve sighed. “Shit, no we walked here. Hold on, let me call someone.” He ran down to reception, Ashley granting him the phone, and prayed Eddie was out of bed. “Hey babe, I need a screwdriver…”

Twenty minutes later Eddie came barrelling up the stairs to the viewing room, Ashley hot on his tail. “Sir, that room is for parents only—”

“It’s okay Ashley! He’s with me.” Steve assured her, handing Eddie the shoe and the tap. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“No sweat, couldn’t let our little girl miss out on her first day of tap.” He kissed Steve’s cheek, not realizing three pairs of eyes on him.

Steve’s cheeks blazed red as Melissa, Kelly, and Jill eyed the matching ring on Eddie’s left hand, putting the pieces together. He cleared his throat and gestured to Eddie. “Um, ladies this is Eddie, my husband.”

“Oh, husband!” Jill sidled up beside them. “Very nice to meet you Eddie, Steve has told us nothing about you.”

Eddie chuckled. “No glowing review big boy?”

Steve hung his head. “Not everyone in Hawkins is so open minded…”

Eddie and Steve spent the rest of the hour telling the moms about how they got together, their small wedding ceremony in the Byers’ backyard, and how they’d adopted Rosie. By the time the ballet class had ended, the moms had adopted Eddie as one of their own just as they had Steve. Before long, Eddie was joining Steve and Rosie on Saturday mornings at the studio.

Autumn flew quickly, Christmas came and went, and once the new year hit, recital talk began. Rosie really took to her lessons, she raised her hand when she didn’t understand something, and Steve took to practicing her routines with her at home, even if he didn’t fully understand what he was doing.

“Remember what miss Abby told you, shoulders down, chin up, soft hands, stretch your feet, okay?”

Rosie nodded, kissing Steve’s cheek and disappearing through the doorway of studio A. 

“Moms? Can you join me in the studio please?” Miss Abby beckoned to the adults. They all followed dutifully, taking off their shoes and lining up at the barre. “As you all know, recital season is quickly approaching. We’ll be putting in orders for the tutus and their tap costumes, but they’ll need to be modified. Proper buns for the recital and light stage makeup, clean pink tights for ballet, and nude tights for tap. Got it?”

The moms and Steve nodded as they were dismissed, making a mental note of what he needed. “Melissa, when she says modified…?”

“Oh you know, glitter, rhinestones, the usual.”

“Right, the usual, cool.”

Steve’s head was in the clouds until he returned home; Eddie, always the observant one, could see the panic on his face.

“Babe I think we’re in over our heads with this dance thing. I need to modify costumes now?”

Eddie frowned. “Modify how?” Steve relayed what Melissa had said, panic stricken. “Steven, that’s nothing. Did you forget I used to make whole costumes for the party for DnD? I got this.” 

The day the costumes arrived, Eddie finally felt totally in his element with the moms. He’d brought along his whole costume kit, much to the surprise of the moms, showing them how well his fabric glue held, and teaching them the best stitches to ensure no elastics snapped off their daughters’ ballet slippers. For once, he was the star parent, and a huge wave of pride rolled off Steve as miss Abby complimented Eddie’s tailoring work on Rosie’s costumes.

Eddie tagging along to the studio meant Steve had backup learning Rosie’s routines. His memory was sharper than Steve’s was, and he was surprisingly more competitive. They worked together to support their little dancer, Steve would wake up early with her and stretch before their day began, Eddie would help her run through her routines before bed each night. One day after work at the body shop, Eddie brought home a large slab of wood, sanded and stained and perfect for practicing with tap shoes on, and a pair of the noisy shoes for himself, knowing he could help his girl better if he could do the steps with her. Steve stood behind them watching Eddie coach Rosie through the steps, counting them out for her as she danced. 

“ONE and TWO and THREE-EE and a FOUR. Don’t forget that brush in there, stay on your toes don’t drop your heels, yes that’s it!” 

Steve chuckled and decided it was time to intervene, hitting pause on the tape. “Alright twinkletoes, bath and then bed.”

Eddie picked her up, depositing her on the couch and helping her take off her shoes. “Daddy did you see, I did the whole dance without forgetting the next step!”

“I saw princess, you’re doing wonderful! And what do you say to dad for helping you run through your routines?”

Rosie kissed Eddie on the cheek and threw her little arms around his neck. “Thank you Dad, I love you.”

“I love you too kiddo, I’m so proud of you.” He peppered her face with kisses, tossing her noisy shoes onto the tap board. “Now go take a bath, you stink.”

She giggled, running to her room to grab her bathrobe. 

“You’re incredible.” Steve hugged Eddie from behind.

“I dunno man, her technique is better than mine will ever be—”

Steve squeezed him harder and whispered lowly in Eddie’s ear. “Shut up, you know I’m not talking about the dancing. You. Are. An amazing. Father. And I love you, so fucking much.” 

Eddie turned in his arms and caught Steve in a searing kiss. “She’s an amazing kid, she’s our amazing kid. And I love you too.” He pulled his husband in as close as he could, reconnecting their lips in another toe curling kiss.

“Ew! That’s so gross!”

Eddie chuckled, pulling away. “Guess this will have to wait until after bath time.” 

“Holding you to that Munson. Now come on, time to bathe the gremlin.”

The early June recital weekend came faster than anyone was prepared for, and the boys were panicking. 

“Stevie, are you sure we’re supposed to put makeup on her? She’s just a kid.”

“Eddie relax. Abby said light stage makeup. It’s probably just so the lights don’t wash her out. Gotta see that beautiful face from the back of the theatre.” Steve kissed Rosie’s cheek and swiped on some more blush. “But just for dance, you got that? No makeup until you’re older. Your beautiful skin doesn’t need all that gunk on it.”

Rosie nodded dutifully and closed her eyes as Steve applied a thick layer of eyeliner. 

“There, what do you think?”

Eddie turned his head sideways and frowned. “Baby I think you went a little too heavy on the cheeks.”

“God you’re right, we’re hopeless.”

“It’s okay Daddy, Auntie Nancy can fix it when she brings me to the stage door.” 

He patted the top of her head, careful not to disrupt her perfectly slicked back hair. “Auntie Nancy will make you look perfect. Come on, let’s wipe this off before she gets here.”

Nancy and Robin took Rosie to the stage door while Eddie, Steve, Wayne, and Claudia found their seats. As soon as 7:00 hit, the house lights went down, and the show was starting. Rosie’s ballet routine was right after the opening number, and Steve hadn’t been so nervous in a long time. As the music faded out and the lights changed, he took Eddie’s hand and squeezed, feeling his husband squeeze back.

After what felt like hours, Rosie’s ballet music started. A chorus of “Awww” spread out amongst the audience as the four little girls scurried out in their rhinestoned tutus, big smiles on their faces. Steve barely saw the routine he knew so well; his eyes glistened with tears seeing Rosie on stage, confidently dancing just like they’d practiced. Chin up, shoulders down, soft hands, feet stretched. Eddie on the other hand had his lips pursed, watching her intently as she made it through a particularly difficult stretch of the routine. “Yes!” He whispered when she landed her pirouette, perfectly spotting the back wall just as Steve had reminded her to. The number was over too soon, and Steve was whispering “I love you” towards the stage as applause broke out and their daughter exited stage right. 

Steve wiped his tears, subtly kissing the back of Eddie’s hand. They could relax until intermission, Rosie’s tap number wasn’t until the second half of the show.

The tap number turned out to be a hit. Steve didn’t expect to still be emotional watching his girl on stage, but the tears came nonetheless. Eddie was more tense for this one, listening to all her sounds, counting out the music as they danced. “That’s my girl!” He shouted as Melissa and Jill whooped on the other side of him as Rosie landed her pickups. Wayne quietly handed Steve a tissue, sporting one of his own in his shirt sleeve as the girls finished their routine and flapped off the stage. 

Just like that, the show was over, and it was time to collect their little dancer.

“Daddies! Grandpa Wayne!” Rosie came running towards them, hugging Wayne around the leg. 

“Did you see Auntie Claudia, Nancy, and Robin came too?”

She nodded enthusiastically, passing hugs around to all of them. Her eyes lit up as Wayne handed her a bouquet of roses, and Robin a little teddy bear in a tutu, congratulating her on a great show. She’d had a big day, and Steve could tell she was exhausted.

“Here princess, let me take those for you.” He took the bouquet as Eddie picked her up, her little head falling to his shoulder. Glitter rained down Eddie’s right side, sticking itself to the ends of his hair and his worn leather jacket. Steve chuckled sympathetically, brushing what he could from his back as they took her out to the car.

“Hey Daddy guess what?”

“What’s up, princess?” Steve opened the lobby door, letting Eddie and their sleepy dancer through first.

“I was wonderful.”

The boys chuckled, Eddie kissing the top of her head. “You were baby, you were.”