#I saw a reel that said what am I supposed to do when I’m so cold but it’s only November 😭 how many more layers will I need

[onedirecton]

I set up a countdown on my phone to track the days until spring starts because I’m SO COLD all the time

[yandere-writer-momo]

Not quite Yandere yet but here is a snippet of the Yandere single dad short story. And a kindergartener obsessed with you being his mom

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy (Prequel)

Eventual Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader

A pale hand shakily held the drawing his son, Jesse, made in horror. Who on earth could the smiling woman beside little Jesse be? Had another snake tried ti sink their fangs into the Isbert family once more?

Liam Isbert was the heir to the Isbert family. A man of extreme power and wealth who many women (and men) tried to woo. Only one had successfully baby trapped him which resulted in Jesse’s birth.

“Who is this woman?” Liam glared at the elderly nanny who frowned at Liam’s anger. “What kind of wench had been filling my child’s head with lies? She is not his mommy.”

“I assure you Miss (last name) is just his teacher. Your son is extremely attached to her.” The nanny told Liam which only made him angrier.

Impossible. She had to be after their family’s money and that’s why she sunk her fangs into a child. How cowardly!

“Notify the school that I wish to have a private meeting with his teacher.” Liam told the nanny as he ran a hand through his dark, wavy locks. Liam was so frustrated with these gold diggers. They were all the same…

He might have to homeschool Jesse now…

.

.

.

Liam sat in the back of his limousine as he watched Jesse excitedly run into the kindergarten. Liam has never seen his son so excited for anything in his life.

The brunette took a long drag from his cigar when he saw a beautiful young woman head towards Jesse. A smile as warm as a ray of sunshine on her face when she saw Liam’s son.

The little boy hurdled his small body into his pretty teacher. Jesse’s arms wrapped around her legs, while his blue eyes stared up at her with so much love it made Liam want to puke. How on earth did this woman charm his antisocial son?

Liam reeled down the window and was about to scream at her when he heard her laugh.

“Goodness, Jesse. It’s only been a day. Are you that excited to learn?” (Your name) smiled down at the dark haired boy who nodded his head.

“I just wanted to be with mom-“

“Jesse, it’s Miss (last name).” (Your name) ruffled Jesse’s dark brown hair which made the little boy pout. “I’m your teacher.”

“Why can’t you be my mommy? You’re so nice to me…”

(Your name) laughed as she bent down to pick Jesse up. “Because I would have to date your dad and I don’t really have any interest in men.”

Jesse thought for a minute and then he scrunched his face. “Daddy is kind of mean and he’s smelly.”

“You’re not supposed to say your daddy is mean or smelly!” (Your name) loudly giggled as she carried Jesse into her class.

Liam sat frozen in his limousine in shock. She didn’t want to date him? And… what did Jesse mean by him being mean and smelly?

“Sir, your meeting with the teacher will be at three in the afternoon. Do you want me to take you to the office.”

Liam shook his head and reeled up the limo’s window. “Yes. That would be nice, Allen.”

For the first time in many years, Liam felt his heart flutter.

.

.

.

“You must be Jesse’s dad. It’s nice to finally meet you.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Liam who remained silent. Liam couldn’t hear a word she said due to how loud his heart beat in his ear drums. His beating muscle would bring a snare drum to shame.

“Mister Isbert?” Liam was brought back down to reality when his teacher addressed him. His green eyes focused on her concerned expression. “About your reason no for a meeting… Jesse seems to be quite attached to me due to his lack of a mother. I try to correct him but he seems adamant about it. I am so sorry to inconvenience you-“

“What is your motive?” Liam narrowed his eyes at the young woman who seemed shocked. Motive? Whatever did he mean?

“What do you mean-“

“How much money do you want? I’m willing to pay you if you leave my son alone-“ Liam was shocked when (your name) slammed her hands on her desk when she stood up.

“How dare you… I’m sorry that other people have wanted such things from you but I do not. I care about Jesse. He desperately wants a parent that loves him and he’s not getting that from anyone in his house.” (Your name) scoffed at Liam’s shell shocked expression. The young woman shook her head. “This is extremely unprofessional of me, but you never spend any time with your son so I’m not surprised you don’t notice his concerning behavior of wanting to be loved.”

Liam gasped when she slapped a file in front of him that was full of letters from Jesse. Dozens of notes asking her to adopt him. Why did his son want this woman so badly?

“Be a better parent before you point fingers. Now get out of my classroom.”

Liam felt his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. She didn’t want his money… she just wanted Jesse to be cared for…

Liam was shocked to see Jesse outside the door. Jesse’s little hands clutched his lunch pail so tightly, his knuckles were white.

“Jesse-“ Jesse shoved past Liam to stand beside his teacher.

“Mommy, I want to eat lunch together! Can you cut the crust off my sandwich? I don’t like the crust.”

(Your name) smiled down at Jesse and took the lunchbox from him.

“It’s Miss (last name), Jesse… but of course I can take off the crust.”

And that’s when Liam noticed the pink blush on Jesse’s cheeks. Jesse loved his teacher… and who was he to separate them?

Liam shoved his hands in his suit jacket pockets and left the school in a hurry. His fingers itched for a cigar to try to calm down the rush of emotions he felt.

Perhaps he’d apologize to Miss (last name)? He wondered if she liked roses?

Liam blushed at the thought of her accepting roses from him. She’d be so pretty in red…

[randompandabaewrites]

Helpless in Her Hold

//The Drow twins' proposition of Tav surfaces some insecurities for Astaron. Hurt/Comfort, angst but happy ending. CW: Unhealthy relationship to sex/sexuality, identity issues. Not edited... Song Rec: Supposed to Be (Acoustic) By Icon for Hire//

Astarion x f!Tav, Canonish, Act 3

2.1k

Astarion watched, helpless, with his dead heart in his throat as the drow twins propositioned Tav. His Tav. He want to growl it and glower until no one else in this pleasure den deigned to offer their services.

Why did she have to be such a lure for elven whores?

Astarion leaned back against the wall, hardly resisting the urge to fold his arms and sulk in plain view of the whole party. He wasn’t a child whose toy was being played with—and yet, the brightness of her eyes and the laugh on her lips had him wanting to pout and whinge like a toddler.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but I must decline.” Tav shook her head. Though personally the vampire thought she could be a little more rude in her rejection.

Because the damn twins were were still giving her looks that were far too inviting. Not that Tav saw, because her eyes had landed back on him, and Astarion was just thanking his lucky stars he’d perfected the mask he wore.

“Is that your partner?” The female drow asked, her smile making disgust creep up his spine—it was easy to see where this was going. “We’d be happy to have you both.”

“My dear, I’m afraid you’d be the one parting with your gold.” A high laugh slipped from Astarion’s lips. “And, I do doubt you could afford me.”

He saw the twins’ mirrored expressions of bewilderment turn to glee for only a flash before Tav was excusing herself from them. Swiftly stepping over to him with—that damnable look on her face.

Oh he knew those eyes, so drawn with her concern and on the verge of pity. Tav looked like that when she was about to do something so dreadfully kind it might make him wretch.

And he could not be the broken toy when she was being offered two shiny new ones.

“Astarion—” Tav began in that tone, and he had to preempt her.

“I know pet, tempting as it is, I simply must decline.”

“Yeah?” Tav utterly confounded him with that lifted smile. “That’s good.”

“Good..?” Astarion asked, his mind trying to race ahead. Find the traps and disarm them before they sprung.

She’d preached to him over and over again about his choice, and what he wanted and how that mattered to her for some reason.

Only for him to make a decision about the drow for her.

Shit.

It was a test. It had to be. She respected his choices, now he was expected to reciprocate.

“Ah I see.” Astarion inclined his head to her, a salacious smile on his lips. “You haven’t had much attention lately…it has been a while for us.”

Tav blinked, and then those bright eyes were on his, searching him out. The pale elf would cling to the façade by the skin of his fangs, if it meant he could keep her.

She turned, and Astarion prepared for the feeling of a stake through his heart.

“Well, if my partner isn’t interested, neither am I.” Tav brushed off the twins’ advances with as much grace as one could muster. Until they finally had the tact to move to other potential patrons.

She was already leading the way out of Sharess’ Caress before Astarion had recovered from his shock.

The cold night air near Baulder’s Gate finally woke him.

“You could have gone with them, you know.” He blurted, wondering why in the Hells she hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was satiating her hungers.

Astarion felt Tav shrug her shoulder through their linked hands. “I’m not interested in any little tryst if it’s at your expense.”

She said it so simple, so easy, as if it were hardly worth a second thought.

Astarion’s mind was still reeling, but he put on a smirk. “Stop being so kind to me; it almost makes me want to return the favor.” 

As if it were a debt he could ever repay her.

…

Hours later, Tav lay in her darkened room, sleep evading her. The soft click of a lock being picked made her tense, hand instinctively grasping the dagger beneath her pillow. But the familiar silhouette slipping through the door made her relax.

"Hello, my darling," Astarion purred as he approached, her darkvision letting her see how his ruby eyes glinted. “Haven’t you gotten accustom to me creeping into your bed?”

"It has been a moment since you came looking for a cuddle?" Tav teased softly, tilting her head. His appearance at this hour had her wondering. The dark of night and hushed voices already strummed tension in the air between them.

“I do seek…something akin to that.”

Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, long fingers skimming up her bare arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite all her thoughts trying to tame her reaction, for now.

"I merely wished to express my gratitude, my sweet. For standing by me, even knowing what I am. What I've done. And what I haven’t."

“What you…haven’t?” Her half-awake mind might be jumping to conclusions, surely. Twining their fingers together, Tav brought his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You never have to thank me for that."

Astarion's eyes shimmered suspiciously in the darkness before he blinked it away, his trademark smirk back in place. "I want to thank you," he purred, “Won’t you, let me?”

He moved then, pressing her back into the soft pillow she’d been having trouble sleeping on after so many nights spent in the dirt.

Though the familiar weight of him was already making the bed more appealing. Now, just like every time he fed from her, he cradled her skull and tilted her head back so tenderly. It was comforting, it was an intimate moment she was happy to share with him.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he ducked his head. Usually he lingered, to make sure Tav was alright before his fangs pierced her flesh. So why did she feel lips caressing her neck?

Her fingers slid into his hair, trying to get a grip on herself as much as she was on his curls.

“Star, what’s going on?”

The chuckle he gave was at the base of her neck, lips and tongue teasing at her collarbones in a way that made her skin tingle.

“Returning the favor.” He purred. “You deserve it.”

Tav swallowed under his clever mouth, trying to hear what her mind was screaming at her before it could be drowned out by the sweet words and sweeter lips.

Suddenly his face was swimming before hers, still not letting her catch his eye as he cupped her cheek. “So very few people get what they deserve—you, as always, should be the exception.”

Astation, with his ethereal beauty and perfect words, had her stunned. It wasn’t until he lowered his mouth to hers that her mind caught up.

“I don’t deserve anything you don’t wish to give.” Tav managed against his mouth, giving a gentle tug to his hair to get him to pull back.

“My sweet…I very much wish to give.”

That silver tongue slipped right past her protesting lips.

…

The elf was certain he had her when those hands slipped from his hair to cup his face in her palms. Her thumbs stroked over his high cheekbones.

“Astarion, wait.” Tav breathed.

He stilled, pulling back, fear flickering over his features as he was sure he’d somehow hurt her—when he saw it.

That damnable look in her eyes.

“Wait—we’ve done nothing but the waiting.” He snapped.

And Tav, damn her, gave a softer look still. “I’m willing to wait longer, as long as it takes.”

Astarion's posture stiffened, his back becoming an iron rod as he sat upright. "Is that how you see me then?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge from seeping into his voice. Drawing it like a blade when he felt his throat was bared.

"All shattered on the inside? Some broken doll you no longer play with? Am I to be put on a shelf and never touched again?"

“Astarion, you aren’t—” She moved to touch him, but he rose abruptly, evading her reach.

He didn’t even know why he did it. But the way her hand fell back to the bed, dejected, hurt him just as the pain he saw on her face.

"I know you aren’t fragile," Tav said with conviction, eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Then what? Am I some charity case to you? Is that what you get off on?”

Astarion hated it the moment he said it. But, the fangs showed whenever vulnerability crept up on him.

She stayed silent, and he had to fill that void before it consumed him.

“I’m not some delicate boy with a broken heart. I have wants. And I can see that you have them too. So, why not?”

“Is that what you want?” Tav smothered his outrage like a blanket over a campfire.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of his uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” The words barely escaped his lips before they broke apart into whispers of self-doubt. “Gods, I don’t know how to do any of this.” A frustrated hand raked through his white curls.

He wanted her. He wanted to see her looks of want and he wanted to be the one to fulfill her desires.

He wanted to keep her.

She sat up, legs hanging off the bed. And his eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her thighs exposed by her loose sleep clothes.

“Astarion, what do you want?”

He stared down at her, red eyes probing for a hint of the right answer. What did she want him to say? He would say it.

But Tav held without giving an inch.

“Why do you always ask the most difficult things?”

"I’m sorry." she whispered back.

"Don’t. I want—no, I need to know that I am still wanted by you." The confession fell from his lips like a plea. "You who’ve given me so much and seen broken I am. You who’ve made me wonder if I do indeed have any pieces left of my own soul…” The words were on his tongue, but his throat constricted around baring his neck one last time. “Do you still want me?”

“I will always want you.” Tav’s reply came without hesitation or doubt.

Either he had gotten to sloppy to see it—or there was simply no guile in her.

Tav reached out, her hand finding his where he stood frozen. He could feel the tension coursing through him—an all too familiar vulnerability that he constantly tried to suppress.

“Then let me give you something in return.” He dropped to his knees before her, desperation etched into every feature. .“Please, Tav.”

She lifted the hand she held, cupping it in both of hers, before she pressed his touch against her chest. And he had a moment to hope, that maybe, she would just let him give a fraction of what she’d given him.

“You’ve given me everything already, my heart.”

A scornful snort burst from him, everything in him prepared to banish her romanticized drivel with a dose of reality.

“This,” Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Past the petty armor you wear. Beneath the pretty face and clever tongue,” She yanked him close before he could quip back.“That is what you give me; parts of you that you’ve given to no one else.”

When he looked at her then, he had no idea what she might see, even if he could use a mirror.

“Your kindness, your hurt, your wants. The truth of you. That’s what I want.”

“I can’t give—“ Astarion couldn’t get this damn silver tongue of his around a his words. “I don’t know what that is…who I am.”

“Then we can both find out. That’s all I ask of you.”

He swallowed hard as her words left him parched and speechless. The notion that he might still have something to offer, a piece of himself that was untouched.

Astarion found himself staring at her, wonder and disbelief battling for dominance in his gaze.

A gentleness tugged at Tav's lips. And for a fleeting moment, Astarion dared to believe that perhaps he could have this.

He moved up, but only to wrap his arms around her. To engulf her in his embrace. Just as that night when she wrapped her arms around him, and first showed him that there was affection, there was closeness, without the expectation of more.

Astarion would be just fine if he was helpless in her arms.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 2

Part One

Word count: 2,755

Originally requested by @hazbinlove

---

Your body was still suffering from your injuries when you awoke two days later. While not as intense as before, you could still feel that itching, burning feeling down your entire chest, which was now wrapped in gauze. You were in a soft bed, mind still reeling a little from everything that had happened. If it wasn’t for how sensitive your entire body still felt, you would have written the whole experience off as an ugly nightmare. Yet here you were, somehow still alive. Your first thought was that you must be in the hospital, but the room looked more like a nice apartment room, in line with a hotel suite. Someone must have found you half dead outside after the attack. That odd angelic figure you had seen, it must have been a dream.

That was what you thought as you lay in your uncomfortable position. Not too much longer later, the door opens, and in comes a man that looks vaguely familiar.

He was short, or at least shorter than most men you were accustomed to seeing.

“You’re awake!” he said.

He came into the room, holding a tray filled with breakfast food. You felt your stomach rumble as you saw that is had chocolate covered croissants and a bowl of fruit that looked delicious.

“… who are you?” you asked.

“Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Lucifer,” he said.

“You’re… Lucifer?” you said, shocked.

Instinctively, you try to inch away as this sinks in your mind, but you don’t make it very far, only succeeding in wincing in discomfort. Your body was still fragile from the attack.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked, with a small smile.

A feeling of fear stirred inside your stomach. This had to be a mistake. A trap. There was no way that this was actually the devil. Unless…

“Am I dead?”

“Dead? Oh, no, quite the opposite!” he said, “Somehow, despite everything that happened to you, your soul is still inside its original body. You’re alive.”

“Then why am I with you?” you asked, hoping that the horror you felt wasn’t too apparent in your voice and face.

“Well I couldn’t very well just leave you out there,” he said, “You were basically being tortured like that. You could have lost your mind that way, repeatedly dying and regenerating.”

You just stared at him in stunned silence for a minute. As you stare at him, you feel your memory aligning with the sight in front of you. You hardly remembered the sight you had seen, you had been in so much pain, but you had seen flashes of flame. A white, red, and gold figure, with an unnaturally eerie light. Was it really possible?

“How do you know about my… thing?” you finally ask.

“Well, the unasked for human “sacrifices” usually don’t survive that kind of stabbing. It seems that someone has put a spell on you,” he said, “It’s a seal of protection. No matter what happens to you, you eventually regenerate. Your body will heal any fatal injury, though, it appears that there are some remnants of the attack. Whoever cast it must not have had a lot of experience and didn’t really know what they were doing.”

The memories of your mothers tear filled yet hopeful eyes rushed back into your mind. Had she…?

“Is there a way to reverse it?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I suppose I would have to look through my grimoires, but it may take some time for me to look.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“You sure you want me to reverse it?” he said, “Most humans would kill to live on earth forever.”

“No. I haven’t even been alive that long, and I already know I never want to experience coming back to life after I die again,” you said.

He puts the tray down next to you on the bed.

“Understandable. I’ve had my own fair share of accidents and long recoveries,” he said, “I know from experience it can be quite unpleasant.”

As if to prove his point, you grimace as you sit up a bit more to eat. Your entire chest feels like it will rip back open if you’re not careful.

“I think you should stay here for a little while,” he said, fingers nearing your face. He stops just short of touching you though as he sees you tense, eventually drawing his hand away and behind his back. An awkward silence permeates the room.

“Anyway, you need time to properly recover after everything that has happened to you,” he said, “Get some proper rest. I’ll leave you to that.”

With that he walks out, closing the door.

---

“I have a little surprise for you.”

You had been bored as you slowly healed. After about a week and a half, you were able to get out of bed, but there wasn’t too much to do. Your “nurse” had provided you with some books to read and puzzles, but other than that, there wasn’t much to do but rest. Though, considering how tired the attack had made you, you supposed you shouldn’t be complaining that much. You were feeling much better now, and the dullness was setting in.

Today though, Lucifer had a certain look in his eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed. He closed his hands together. As he opened them, smoke pealed and a black cat curled out. The pretty little thing which slinked onto the bed and kneaded its paws on the soft fabric. You offer a smile at his attempts to cheer you up. You had to admit that there was a certain charm about him.

“You created that?” you asked.

“Well, technically no,” he said, “I can’t make anything out of nothing. But I may have borrowed him from somewhere else.”

He absently stroked the animal. Squirming a bit, your mind raced. He seemed to be in a decent mood. You had wanted to broach a certain topic in the last day or two, but you weren’t really sure how. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful and upset him, but he seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps now was the time.

“Um… so, I’m doing a lot better now,” you said.

“You are,” he said.

“And… I was wondering what you thought about me going back,” you said, “I think I’d be ok.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Unable to handle the awkward silence, you start babbling, rushing words out.

“I think I’d be able to handle it,” you said, “I can walk and take care of myself again. Thank you for all of your help, but I don’t want to bother you any longer.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides, I think it’s in your best interest that you stay somewhere where your safe.”

“Yes, but I can’t stay in here forever,” you said, “I don’t belong in here.”

While you had to admit he had been an attentive caretaker, you were tired of seeing the same four walls all the time. You needed to get out of here.

“…Perhaps not,” he said finally looking at you, eyes serious, “But I know that if I let you out of this building, some demon or other will get their hands on you and kill you. Or at least attempt to. And trust me, with the kind of sickos that end up down here, you do not want to end up in the wrong hands with an ability like that and no way to defend yourself. That will not be a fun time for you.”

“Er… I don’t mean out there. Can’t you just bring me back to the surface?” you ask.

He is again quiet for a long moment, a look on his face that you can’t quite place. He drums his fingers against his cane for a minute before sighing.

“Do you truly want to go back though?” he said, “You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, look what they did to you!”

He finally looks at you and waves his hand as if to dismiss your unspoken pleas, suddenly animated.

“You think no ones going to try something like this again?” he said, “That if that group finds out you survived, they’re going to be all huncky dory about it? That maybe they’ll just go ‘Oh, wowy, our little sacrifice went wrong. That’s a shame, let’s try a goat this time!’”

“Not all humans are bad,” you protest, “Plenty of us are good. I mean, you like me well enough.”

He scoffs at your words.

“Sure, I suppose some humans won’t try to take advantage of you, but just like down here, if the wrong one finds out about this little… gift of yours, and your best days on earth will rival some of the worst ones down here! Even well meaning humans might want to dissect you to find a futile way to live on earth forever,” he said.

“So what, you just want me to stay here forever?” you said, trying not to sound hysterical, “In fucking hell?”

“I mean, it’s really not so bad down here, as long as you’re with the right people,” he said, “And you couldn’t have better company. Eh?” You swear you hear a horn honk as he winks at you and shakes his elbow.

His attempt at joking optimism falls flat, with the horn sound making it only seem pathetic. The disappointment you feel must be showing on your face as he eventually sighs again and looks at you with condescending pity. It was the patronizing gaze an adult may give a child who is upset that they can’t have ice cream for dinner or an owner would give a pet that wants to jump out of a moving car.

Silly little thing. I’m sorry you’re so angry, but this is for your own good.

“I’m not a child,” you finally say, which only causes him to chuckle softly.

“No, you are not a child. It’s simply that I’m thousands of years old, and you’re what? In your mid-twenties, I would guess. It’s not as if I have more experience with the world or how humans work,” he said.

You glare at him.

“What? Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true,” he said, “People with something special to offer tend to only attract the worst kinds of attention. Trust me, I know.”

“And I’m supposed to expect that your intentions are pure?” you said, before you could think better of it.

Rather than anger though, his face contorts to one of hurt.

“F/N, I’m sorry if I’ve ever done anything to give you the impression that I want anything from you,” he said, moving closer to you and resting his hand on yours, “I know you’re not thrilled about this situation, but you were left for dead as a sacrifice. I couldn’t have just let you suffer, it wouldn’t have been right. It’s only proper that I take responsibility for what happened to you.”

You just continue to glare at him, but a part of you hears a degree of reason in his words. You feel some guilt tighten in your chest. Perhaps you were being unreasonable. This only makes you angrier though, at him and yourself. You don’t want to concede to him.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said, “I know what it means to go one and on forever, and there are things that are much, much worse than death. Trust me.”

He’s moved so close to you now that your noses almost touch.

“Please try to understand. I’m doing this because I truly care for you. I would hate it if something happened to you,” he said.

As he speaks, he traces the edge of your chin with his fingers, and you suppress the natural urge you have to pull away. No aggression is in his eyes, only a certain pity and tenderness. He stares into your eyes like this for a moment before unexpectedly, gently and softly, he presses his lips to yours.

Wait, what?

It’s so unexpected that you freeze up in a sort of shock. You don’t even push him off of you, just hold still as he caresses your mouth with his own. Seeming encouraged that you haven’t pulled away, he moves his hand from your chin to your hair, stroking it and guiding it closer to him. It feels… pleasant. Nice. You hadn’t noticed, but at some point he had brought his other hand to your side and was slowly drawing it up your stomach, up to the side of your breast, not touching anything too intimately. Somehow, this felt more forbidden than if he had touched you more sensually. Slowly, you allow yourself to open your mouth, as if to deepen the kiss, and your fingers reach up to his shirt and rest against his chest.

Until you remember that you’re kissing the literal devil.

When that sinks in, you shudder and wretch your face away from him. He looks surprised, but allows you to do so.

“What are you doing?!” you screech.

“Um…”

“What on earth?” you cry out, horrified, “Why did you do that?!”

He looks a bit baffled for a second, “Did you not like it?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean- I-I… Don’t do that again!” you said, “I didn’t like it.”

“… All right,” he said, “If you say so.”

You feel your face heat up as you break eye contact for a second, and while he moves away a little, as if to respect your space, you catch a bit of a satisfied light in his eyes at your blushing.

–-

Lucifer ignored the pang of guilt in his gut. It was easy to squish, like an ant beneath his outstretched finger. There for just a second, and then crushed with no hope of resurrecting. He’d had plenty of practice ignoring the things he didn’t want to pay attention to, and this was no different.

You were so naive. To anyone with a hint of demonic knowledge, they would know it would be quite easy for him to remove the spell. With a few exceptions, nearly every curse that was cast could be reversed one way or another, and yours was no different. It would be child’s play for him to remove the spell and return you to your home. He was the king of hell after all.

You didn’t need to know that though.

So long he had lived life alone. He and Lilith had parted ways long ago, and he hadn’t really found anyone else. The hellborn, while at times enticing, lived short lives compared to what he had. They weren’t eternal, and they often fell under the influence of the sinners. Too many times a well meaning demon had been led on a less than savory path.

Even without that problem though, connection was so difficult for him. There was a part of him that almost seemed to disassociate whenever he was around others, even those he cared about. Yet here, with you, things were so easy. You had been literally handed to him as a gift, and your helpless ingenue personality had rekindled the softer, more romantic side of him. Perhaps he was being selfish, keeping you like this, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t recompense for whatever frustrations you were feeling.

Though for now you claimed that you didn’t like him, he could see the embarrassed desire in your eyes. Not that he would humiliate you for it. He would draw that desire out from you until it flowed from you as naturally as a river flows downstream. Already you were kissing him back, even if a bit shyly, and at this rate he was sure that he would soon have you acquiescing to more intimate expressions of his affection.

Yes, you were a little peeved now, but you’d get over it. It wasn’t as if you really knew what you wanted anyway. Humans were so difficult. Give them free will and let them do what they think they want, and they still screw it all up. They were so foolish, falling for delusions and falsehoods so easily. He couldn’t let that happen with you.

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - FORTY NINE

Stolas jolted awake. His heart was racing out of his chest. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around.

He was still at Blitzø’s bedside. He’d fallen asleep hunched over with his head in his crossed arms. Tears stained the sheets.

What an awful nightmare…

He shuddered a relieved sigh and stretched.

He looked over to check on Blitzø, and that’s when he saw it. Or, rather, HER.

Directly across from him stood what he could only describe as a woman made out of stars. It was as if someone had cookie-cuttered a hole in reality in the shape of a tall, willowy, imp (succubi?) woman, then poured in a beautiful batter of deepest blue-black ether and glittering stars.

The faint starry ghost woman stood on the other side of Blitzø’s hospital bed from Stolas. She was tenderly stroking his horns.

Stolas was frozen mid-stretch, unsure what to do.

“Stolas,” the woman said in a soft lyrical voice. She looked over at him with a warm, friendly smile. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you in person.”

Stolas dropped his arms and sat at attention. “I ah… I’m sorry… But…”

She laughed. Her laugh sounded like beautiful bells that pulled at Stolas’s heart. “But who am I?”

Stolas nodded, suddenly feeling struck by silence.

The woman looked down at Blitzø with loving eyes. She bent and kissed him gently on the forehead, then proceeded to fuss over his pillows and blankets. Fluffing and tucking.

Without looking at Stolas she spoke; “We’ve spoken before. Many times actually.”

Stolas was confused.

“Though ‘spoken’ may be an inaccurate description,” She looked up at the ceiling and tapped a finger to her lips, thinking. She shrugged. “Well. It’s close enough, I suppose. I guess you could call me your ‘liaison to the stars’.”

Stolas was REALLY confused.

She looked over at him, saw his state and laughed her beautiful laugh.

“I also like to drop you little hints here and there,” she gave him a knowing wink.

What could she mean by…

Stolas gasped and subconsciously touched his finger to his forehead; the spot the strange liquid had dropped on him outside the hospital. Before he’d seen the billboard. The one that had sent him running to Asmodeus’s.

The woman chuckled and winked.

“The heavens weep when fated partners are pulled apart, dear Prince.”

Stolas looked at her with bewilderment.

She smiled tenderly and waved an arm above them. Little droplets of the liquid fell from the ceiling down onto Stolas and Blitzø.

Stolas squawked in surprise and made to cover Blitzø before realizing - like the woman - the droplets were of ephemera.

Stolas reached out his left hand to catch a droplet but it just passed right through his hand.

His hand…

What?

She chuckled. “Ah! He finally sees.”

Glowing brightly and tied to his left pinky was a red string.

Stolas looked at it in confusion and bewilderment. And then in awe…

“This…” Stolas looked at the woman. “Is this what I think it is?”

She smiled and gestured at Blitzø. Stolas looked down at him and saw the same string tied to Blitzø’s left pinky.

“Fated.” She winked at him.

Stolas stared blankly at her. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest. His ears were filled with the whooshing sound of blood.

I’m going crazy… Aren’t I?

“Not crazy. Don’t worry. It’ll all make sense when it’s time. But for now, I’m here on a personal matter.” She turned back to Blitzø. “My son.”

Stolas’s jaw dropped.

“Blitzø is your…?”

“My precious son.”

Stolas’s mind was reeling. Then he felt a sudden panic.

“No… oh no… is he…?”

She looked over at him quizzically. Seeing his terror, she smiled kindly and told him “Don’t worry. He will be fine.”

Stolas let out the long breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“But he needs you.”

Her words cut through Stolas like a knife.

Blitzø doesn’t need me. He’s never needed me. I’m the one who needs him…

Stolas opened his beak only to have her place a finger to it to quiet him. She looked him straight in the eyes.

“He. Needs. You.” She emphasized each word so as to not be misunderstood.

Stolas stared back at her, wide-eyed.

“My son has a beautiful heart. And so much love to give. Love he’d very much like to give to you, Stolas.”

Stolas froze in place and blushed.

“He’s been through a lot. As I know you have too.” She smiled sympathetically. “You knuckleheads are two perfect messes that were made for each other.”

Stolas’s mouth flapped open and closed, trying to form words, not knowing what to say.

She laughed her beautiful laugh. “I’m so grateful you found one another again!”

Again? Did she know…?

“Oh I knew about you, Prince Stolas.” She smiled mischievously. “My bitty boy had some fun things to say about his day with you when he got home.”

“He… He did?” Stolas stammered.

“ ‘The super smart owl prince who was actually, like, really nice, momma’ ” She squished her face and made starry eyes. “ ‘And he thought my idea of a circus business was awesome. And gets to learn about stars and junk and go to the human world.’ ”

Blitzø’s mother made herself laugh so hard she cried.

He… He had fun with me... And talked about me? He thought I was smart? And Nice?!

Blitzø’s mother wiped her tears of laughter away and smiled at Stolas. “He cared for you, even back then.”

Stolas wanted to believe it, but a black cloud settled over his heart and told him he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Blitzø’s mother heaved a heavy sigh. “Knuckleheads… The both of you.”

She took Stolas’s hands in hers, and looked them over. “Strong, beautiful hands, young Prince.” She looked up at him.

Stolas blushed.

“I want you to use these to hold onto, love and protect my son.”

“Ye… yes mam” Stolas stammered

“No matter how much he may kick and scream and try to push you away,” she clasped his hands together tightly in her own. “Don’t you dare let him go.”

Stolas’s eyes welled with tears.

“Yes, mam.”

She reached over and wiped the tears from his eyes, placed her hands on his face and pulled him close to kiss him on the forehead.

“Please. Call me, Mom.”

*****

[misc-obeyme]

9 Days of Solomon: Day 3 - Knife

Okay, I probably could have gone many ways with this, but because I'm sensing angst for the next day's prompt, I've decided to fluff this one up lol.

GN!MC x Solomon

Warnings: blood, minor injury

You were in the kitchen at Cocytus Hall, doing your best to give Solomon simple cooking tasks that you knew he would be able to handle. So far, the dish was turning out just fine and your distraction techniques were successful.

As always, Solomon had wanted to help you make dinner and you had looked at his sincere face for about two minutes before giving in. His genuine desire to help made it nearly impossible for you to say no.

And although he was doing as you directed, he was also teasing you. He had removed his cloak and put on an apron - pink with a bit of frills, no doubt a present from Asmo. Any time he needed to move around you, he would put his hands on your waist or shoulders as he went past. He would catch your eye just to smile at you.

Mostly you were able to ignore his blatant flirting, focusing instead on the dinner you were making.

You were busy chopping some vegetables, keeping your eyes on the blade and your fingers as you did so.

Beside you, Solomon stood at the stove top, diligently stirring a savory sauce. You noticed the second his stirring stopped. You were on high alert in case he decided to try adding something to it. You didn’t look up, but you could see it in your periphery.

“Don’t stop stirring the sauce,” you said immediately.

Solomon laughed. “Oh, sorry. I got distracted staring at you.”

You blushed. Of course he would say that. “Why would you be staring at me when you’re supposed to be paying attention to what you’re doing?”

“Can you blame me?” You could hear the laugh behind Solomon’s words. “Is it really my fault for getting distracted by someone as captivating as you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Be serious, won’t you?”

“I am being serious, MC.” The laughter had transformed into something else, something softer and deeper. “You pull my attention to you just by existing.”

You looked over at him. You couldn’t help it. The way he had said those words, the desperation and love you heard in them, filled you with a need to see his face. And you saw the gentle contemplative expression as he kept his own eyes on the sauce in front of him.

A sharp pain lanced through your finger and you swore loudly.

Solomon started, nearly dropping the spatula he was using. He turned to you urgently. “MC! Are you okay?”

You had dropped the knife on the counter. The edge of it glistened brightly with your blood. You gripped your cut hand and swore again. “It’s just a little cut.”

Solomon turned off the stove, put down the spatula, and took your wounded hand. He held it up to his face and the concerned expression there only deepened as he took in the bright red blood seeping from the cut in your finger.

“I wouldn’t call this a little cut,” he said. Then he frowned even more as he looked past your hand and into your eyes. “This is my fault.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention.”

“Only because I distracted you,” Solomon said.

You were about to argue further, but he pulled you by your wrist to the table in the kitchen and made you sit down.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I can fix this.”

You wanted to say something then, too, but the words fled your lips when he went down on his knees.

You gasped in surprise as he put the entire top end of your finger in his mouth, his lips closing delicately around it, his tongue pressing briefly against the cut itself. You stared at him in shock, taking in the way he was looking up at you from his position between your knees.

You finally found your voice. “What are you doing?”

Solomon released your finger. “I needed to clean all the blood away.” He said it as though it should be obvious.

Your mind was reeling and you knew you were blushing hotly, but you weren’t sure what to say in response to that.

Especially because Solomon had focused his gaze on your finger like he was preparing to cast some magic on it. And sure enough, he recited the words of a healing spell, holding your hand palm up in front of him.

As you both watched, the cut sealed itself shut. There was no longer any blood on your skin and no indication that you had been injured at all. The pain was completely gone.

Solomon smiled and looked up at you. “There,” he said. “Is that better?”

There was a gleam in his eyes, the same teasing look he so often sent your way. And you knew that even if he had been worried about you, he couldn’t let the opportunity to fluster you slip past him.

You laughed. Here was the most powerful human in the three worlds, on his knees in front of you, wearing a pink frilly apron, turning a moment of pain into a chance to flirt with you. He looked so proud of himself.

It was so silly and your heart swelled as you put your arms around him, hugging him as best you could while he still knelt on the floor. “You’re such a troublemaker.”

Solomon laughed with you, standing up and pulling you to your feet, placing his hands on your waist. “I’m sorry, MC. I’ll be more careful about what I say when you’re chopping vegetables.”

You shook your head, still smiling, still aware of the heat in your cheeks. You looked over at the stove. “That sauce is probably ruined now. Why don’t we go out instead?”

Solomon was happy enough to escort you out to dinner that evening. In fact, he seemed quite pleased about it. You didn’t mind. It was nice to be out with him and this way you didn’t need to worry about his antics getting in the way of dinner. Again.

day 1: stars | day 2: nostalgia | day 4: ocean | day 5: pact (nsfw mdni) | day 6: snow | day 7: familiar | day 8: Barbatos | day 9: humanity

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Six

“Daddy’s little psycho and Mommy’s little soldier.”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: I am SO FUCKING SORRY for dragging this out as long as I have. Life has been crazy and work has been nonstop. However, I do hope y'all like this latest chapter, or as I like to call it, the smut before the storm.

Word Count: 8445

Warnings: SMUT, COMPLETELY NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral m!receiving, thigh riding, unprotected penetrative sex (she's a vampire but wrap it up IRL y'all), swearing, allusions to violence, creepy flashbacks, blood mentions.

Jake was a light sleeper, and his mother would often tell people she could never put him down without him waking up as soon as her hands left his swaddled form, the only solution was to put him directly next to his twin, who slept like a log most of the time. Even as they got older if they sat next to each other too long on the couch they’d be out cold within a few minutes. And in any other scenario, just being in the same apartment as Josh would’ve had him out like a light, but still sleep evaded him. He knew he needed to get some form of shut-eye, but every creak or noise in the room had his eyes flying open, ready to jump up in case that…creature tried anything stupid. 

That was the other thing that had his mind racing, the fact that a Vampire was sleeping soundly next to his brother of all people, and the fact that he saw with his own eyes that same brother cuddle up and spoon the fucking thing. The conversation the twins shared outside ran through his mind…

Jake stomped down the stairs of Josh’s building, not ready to even talk to him, yet having a million things to say at the same time. His mind was reeling over what he had just witnessed, and no amount of rationalization could wrap his head around it. 

“Jake just listen-,” Josh started as they exited the front door of the building and down the steps.

“If this is where you give me the ‘she’s different’ speech, I don’t want to hear it.” 

Josh rolled his eyes, “well she is.” 

Jake spun around to face him, “I just can’t believe you’re the one who got soft over one of them. After all we’ve been through? What we’ve seen? They threatened to kidnap Sammy and turn him when he was four, Josh.” 

Josh crossed his arms and squared his shoulders, “I know that.” 

“And yet here you are, holding hands with one, letting her walk around in your, no my, clothes. This job was supposed to be so simple, that’s why Dad let you go alone for it. All you had to do was come here, figure out which Vampire was being reckless, exterminate it, and come back home. That was it. But instead you get this little apartment, take absolutely way too long on what should’ve been a week-long job tops, and now you’re sleeping with quite literally the fucking enemy and you want me to be more understanding? The last time we spoke she was your lead suspect! I just-,” as Jake argued, he stared at his brother long enough to notice some blood on Josh’s neck. It wasn’t a lot, but it was dry and flaked on his skin, letting him know it had been there for awhile. 

Exhaling sharply through his nose he said in a low tone, “is that blood hers…or yours…” Josh sighed and closed his eyes for a second, which answered Jake's question for him, “Jesus Christ…she fed on you? What the fuck, man?” 

“It’s not what you think.” 

Jake’s eyes went wide and he hung his head forward in disbelief, “the fuck do you mean ‘its not what you think’?! Who even are you anymore?” 

“Listen, it wasn’t a planned thing. And for your information, she’s no longer my lead anymore.”

Jake mockingly breathed a sigh of relief, “oh well that’s good, I’m so glad you’re cracking the case with your-” 

Josh couldn’t take it anymore, and backed Jake across the sidewalk and against the door of his car, “do I have to bring up Cecilia again to point out how hypocritical you’re being right now? 

Jake stared at Josh, and watched his nostrils flare as he huffed in his face. If someone had told him weeks ago that he’d be having this conversation with him, he’d tell them they need to lay off the drugs and to get the fuck out of his face. “I just…I don’t get it,” he said softly. 

Josh adjusted his grip on his shoulders, “it’s not your job to ‘get it’.”

Jake relaxed against the car, not wanting to fight anymore, “but I always get it…with you? We always understand each other, but this…I don’t understand this at all.” 

Josh’s eyes softened at his twin, letting his words wash over him. He was right, that they never questioned each other over anything because they just understood each other automatically. Their parents always wrote it off as being a ‘twin thing’ and would tell them it was a strength of theirs that other people didn’t have. On the outside it was an asset, but to them personally it was just something automatic like breathing. 

“You’re just going to have to trust me. And maybe…maybe try to get to know her at least.”

Jake tilted his head, “you want me to get to know her?”

Josh rolled his eyes again, “or at least stop being a fucking dick. I know you don’t want to hear this, but she is different, Jake. I know it's hard, and it took me a lot longer than you think it did to see it, but she is.”

Jake relented, “if she tries anything…or even looks at you funny, I will not hesitate to put her down, and you’re just going to have to get over that.”

Jake’s arm around CiCi tightened as he blinked and pushed the memory away, not wanting to get pissed all over again. His eyelids were finally growing heavy, and he used what was left of his energy to relax enough so that sleep could creep up on him and take over.

~!~

Hours later, when the sun had stepped aside for the moon, you were growing restless in Josh’s arms. Memories were bleeding into your dreams, letting their foul existence contaminate your slumber. 

You found yourself back in the house you grew up in, sitting next to the Vampire who would become your Maker. On the floor before you, were the bodies of the rest of the occupants of the house. Various servants and the Lady of the house, bleeding out onto the floor. He had saved you for last. Ever since he had entered the door that night he had his eye on you. 

His teeth were buried in your wrist, lapping and slurping up your blood like a starved animal. It was messy, dripping over his hands and onto the expensive couch you sat upon. The pain had you wincing hard, but you dared not make a sound, terrified of what he would do if you did. 

He moaned against your wrist before popping off and staring at you with a mouth full of blood, “You won’t understand this…but your blood tastes like cherries…”

The way he looked at you and talked to you had your stomach in knots, “how,” you squeaked out.

“It's so difficult to describe to humans…but your blood is so sweet, little one. Sweet like cherries…ma chérie…,” he chuckled at his pun, before drawing a bloody finger to your cheek and staining your skin, “ma chérie…ma chérie…ma chér-”

You woke up with a jolt, panicking when you couldn’t immediately sit up due to the arms wrapped around your middle. Blindly you fought to pry the arm away from you, not awake enough to realize just who you were in bed with and where you were. 

Your frantic movements and gasps woke Josh up instantly, and he sat up enough to look at you fully, “Hey…hey it's alright, what's wrong?” 

His voice broke through the fog in your head, and you looked around to get your bearings. You were with Josh, in his little apartment, and it was night time finally. You were with Josh. You were safe. A warm hand reached up to cup your face, turning you towards him. The tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall made his brows knit together in worry. One slowly rolled down your face, his thumb catching it and rubbing it away. 

You sniffed, trying to compose yourself. It was just a stupid dream; your subconscious taking you back to that time after you had talked about it earlier. Nothing more, nothing-

“Bad dream?”

You looked away, for once unable to meet those brown eyes. He continued to hold your face, not letting you physically turn away from him. 

“It's nothing…”

“It’s not nothing if you’re this upset by it.”

“We all have bad dreams, Boy Scout,” you recalled the nightmare he had the other night, and how he also didn’t want to talk about what he saw. 

He understood what you were implying, and nodded, “I get that, but-”

Across the apartment, Jake had also woken up because of your outburst, and he carefully sat up on the air mattress to look at the commotion. He silently watched his brother comfort you, and the way you melted back into his arms had him rolling his eyes. The way Josh spoke to you was a way Jake wasn’t used to hearing. He kept trying to convince himself that this was all part of some 4D chess move of yours, but the fact that Josh was literally unable to be Persuaded by you only added to Jake’s confusion. 

Josh had gotten you to settle back down into bed, laying on your sides and facing each other. His hand was still holding your cheek, keeping you close. The tears had dried, and you had calmed down a little, no longer worried you were still in that house with your Maker. 

Your fingers were wrapped around the wrist of the hand on your face, “safe to say the sun is down…,” you whispered. 

“I guess so…”

Neither one of you wanted to leave the little bubble you had created, but you needed to go home, back to your own place. With a resigned sigh you say, “I should probably get going…

Josh shook his head, “you don’t have to.”

“Your brother would beg to differ,” Josh scoffed softly at the reminder, “plus I miss my own shower.” 

“At least let me drive you home,” he offered.

“You don’t have-,” a thumb slid across your jaw and landed on your lips, silencing you.

“No, I think I do,” he said simply. 

Back on the air mattress, Jake had had enough ‘rest’ and rather obnoxiously got up making as much noise as he could. His Witch rolled over to look at him, throwing him an exasperated look, harshly whispering his name. Jake paid her no mind as he loudly rifled through his bag, appearing to ‘organize’ his belongings, and set a few things on the coffee table. The light clatter of stakes landing on the surface sent an obvious message. 

Josh sat up to see what his twin was doing, and immediately rolled his eyes at the little display Jake was making. He looked over at you, giving you a sympathetic look before slipping out of bed and walking towards Jake.

“What are you doing?”

Jake looked up at Josh and raised his eyebrows, “making myself at home?”

“Well, while you’re doing that, I’m going to take her home,” he said pointing his head towards you over his shoulder. 

At this, Jake shot up to his full height and stepped closer to Josh, “you’re not seriously letting her take you back to her lair are you?”

You came up behind Josh with your things in your hands and nearly burst out laughing at Jake’s word choice, “my lair? Oh god I haven’t heard that one in nearly two decades. Jesus Christ, its a condo, Kiszka. I pay way too much for the HOA and everything.” 

Josh eyed you curiously, “really?”

You sighed, “honestly I need to move but it's such a hassle and it was the only decent place available when I came back.”

He nodded in agreement, “that makes sense-”

Jake rubbed his face with his hand before interrupting, “ENOUGH, you’re not going with her.” 

Your hunter slowly turned his head towards his twin, expression hardening and brows knitting together, “and who are you to make that decision?” The younger twin looked like he had been slapped while trying to form a rebuttal, but Josh seized on his silence, “that's what I thought.” With that, he turned to grab his keys from the spot on the floor they had landed the previous night. 

“What are we supposed to do, in the meantime,” Jake complained. CiCi was standing now, and reached out to touch Jake's arm. 

Josh huffed, “I don’t know…maybe take your girlfriend out on a date or something? She deserves it for putting up with you.” He shifted past Jake, stepping into the same shoes he had on outside, and turning around to check on you. While he and Jake bickered you had slipped on your heels from the night before, and the combination of your heels and his clothes (screw whatever Jake said, it hadn’t been his shirt in years) made his heart stutter for multiple reasons. 

As you maneuvered around Jake, you looked over at CiCi and gave a small smile, “it was nice meeting you,” 

CiCi nodded, “nice meeting you too.” 

Rather pointedly, you ignored Jake and exited through the door as Josh held it open for you. 

“Don’t wait up,” was all Josh said before he firmly shut the door behind him and followed you down the stairs. 

Thankfully, none of Josh’s neighbors were out of their respective apartments and the journey down to the ground floor was uneventful. You followed him down to the sidewalk where he turned to the right and went down a few cars before stopping at a white Jeep, hitting the keyfob along the way to unlock it. It definitely screamed something that Josh would drive. Without a word he opened the door for you, and held out his hand for you to take to help you get in, a gesture that made you smile. As you settled in your seat Josh shut the door and nearly sprinted around the back to get to the drivers side. 

It didn’t hit you until after he had silently handed you his phone to put in your address and he secured it to his dash mount how…normal it felt. This inner voice of your brain wanted to complain about how cliche it all was, but you tried not to listen to it. 

It took four blocks for Josh’s hand to slowly migrate from the gear shift to the top of your thigh. The warmth of his hand nearly startled you, and you looked down at the source and the feeling of normalcy struck you again. The silence that filled the Jeep wasn’t awkward or stilted. It was…comfortable. You hadn’t felt this in a long time. Well, you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel this in a long time. There were close calls, trysts from decades ago that still felt fresh at times, all ending in the same tired ways. 

Josh’s thumb was absently rubbing circles into your skin when he spoke, “I have a question…” 

You were snapped out of your thoughts, “yeah?”

“Garlic doesn’t hurt your kin-, you, does it?”

A giggle threatened to escape your mouth as you formed your answer, “no…garlic doesn’t do anything to us. Didn’t they teach you that at ‘Vampire-Hunter-Boy-Scout-Camp?’” 

His hand flexed slightly against your thigh, and he rolled his eyes slightly, “I mean…my parents taught me things but the garlic thing was never mentioned specifically either way…”

You sensed an opportunity and turned towards him slightly as his Jeep rolled to a stop at a redlight, “lets play a game.” 

He eyed you with a deadpan expression, “a game?”

“True or false,” your mouth twisting into its typical grin. 

He sighed as the light turned green and he pressed the gas pedal, “and what am I supposed to be asking about?” 

“You tell me whatever idiotic Vampire rumor you were taught, and I’ll tell you if it's true or false!”

Another sigh left his mouth, and he flipped through the different bits of Vampire information he had stored in his brain, “ok…you can eat human food?”

“True and false.” 

He looked at you slightly exasperated, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean…we could technically eat it…but it has no nutritional value and doesn’t taste like anything to us. It's like chewing on the color gray. When I was freshly turned I tried eating a muffin and nearly spit it out on the floor.”

“Do you miss human food?” 

“False. I mean…the era of when I was turned wasn’t exactly the height of cuisine…but sometimes I miss how good fresh bread smelled…or pies on the window sill. But honestly blood is so much better. There’s just something about it that human food doesn’t have.”

Josh tried to wrap his head around that, but couldn’t, “so you’ve never eaten pizza?”

“...True…it looks like it would be good from a human's point of view but I’m ok with an AB Positive,” you quietly braced yourself, hoping he wouldn’t be grossed out by your preferences.

But the disgust never came, instead Josh asked another question, “Vampires can’t be born…can they?”

You stared at him for a second, “true…no more babies once you’re turned.” The way your voice went soft at your answer was completely unintentional. Kids weren’t something you thought about, or dreamed about. They were a fleeting thought when you were a girl, but kids brought back memories you didn’t want to relive. You didn’t hate them, it wasn’t their fault, but you just hated being reminded of certain events…or certain people. 

Josh’s brows were furrowed as he formed his next question, but your game was interrupted by his phone’s GPS announcing, “you have arrived at your destination.”

You looked up and saw your familiar building, a 10-story high-rise that had fallen victim to the house-flipper crowd. What was once a charming and cozy building now reeked of ‘seller-friendly curb appeal.’

Josh stared up at the structure as he parked the Jeep and you answered his thoughts for him, “don’t worry Boy Scout, we have elevators here.” He turned to give you a look, another question floating through his brain, “yes you can come up…it's only fair I show you my place…” 

He smiled as you flung off your seatbelt and hopped out of the vehicle, practically bouncing in your heels on the pavement. As he joined you on the sidewalk, you slid your hand into his and led him into the front entrance of your building.

“I wish you could’ve seen the building when it was new. It had the sweetest door man and everything,” you mused as the two of you walked into the lobby of your building. The current decor was “nice” if you considered 2011 the peak of interior design. You often considered Persuading the building manager into getting the building restored to its original glory, but you figured you wouldn’t be here long enough to get too involved. 

Bee-lining for the elevator, your hand still gripped his as you hit the button with your free hand to call it down. Within seconds the elevator dinged and slid open its doors, and you thanked whatever beings were out there that it was empty. You hadn’t brought anyone ‘home’ in quite some time and it would be a lie to say you weren’t practically giddy at the idea of bringing Josh up to see it. Once inside you reached for the panel to select ‘8’ for your floor. 

Turning to your hunter you said, “not a penthouse like yours,” and playfully bumped his shoulder. 

Josh however couldn’t take it anymore and took full advantage of the solitude and took your face into his and slowly backed you up against the wall before slamming his lips onto yours. You melted into the kiss, glad to be even closer to him again. As his tongue gained entrance into your mouth,you felt one of his hands reach down to grip your thigh and hook it over his hip, allowing him to grind into you. The clothes from the night before that you clutched in your one hand threatened to fall as you wrapped your arms around him. Josh’s teeth sunk into your bottom lip, and the gap between the front two captured the smallest sliver of skin. You moaned against his mouth, and he broke away with a sigh before tilting his head and nipping at your jawbone and leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. 

You started to lift your other leg to secure it around Josh’s waist when the elevator dinged and came to a stop. Paying it no mind, you rolled your head to the side to give Josh better access to your neck. It wasn’t until you heard someone clear their throat rather loudly did you open your eyes to find one of your neighbors standing at the open elevator. It was that unbearable woman down the hall, who had a habit of watching everyone on her floor. Josh looked up as well and slowly dropped your leg from around his hip, but he stayed just as close to you. 

“Hi, Nancy…,” you said with an eye roll before taking Josh’s hand and leading him out of the elevator. Josh and Nancy briefly made eye contact as he walked past her and she looked down her nose at him as her upper lip scrunched up as if she was smelling something bad. “Don’t mind her, she’s just a snotty bitch,” you called out behind you as the elevator doors shut. 

Josh whipped his head towards you and said in a deadpan voice, “she seemed nice. Is she always like that?”

“Sometimes she’s worse, unfortunately,” you laughed as he matched your stride. Flashing a smile at him you rounded the corner and went straight for the door at the end of the hall. You stopped to fish your keys out of your tiny clutch from the night before and unlocked your door with ease. Before you twisted the handle to reveal your home, you looked at Josh over your shoulder, intentionally drawing out the moment a little longer for dramatic effect. Finally, you slowly opened the door to your place, giving Josh the nod that he could follow you inside. 

Josh followed you over the threshold, making sure to shut the door behind him before looking around at the apartment. Immediately to his left was a small side table, where you dropped your keys in a glass dish. 

You continued down the small hallway, your heels clicking against the dark hardwood floors before turning around and throwing your hands out and saying, “home sweet home.” 

The small hallway opened up into two different rooms on either side, the one on the right being what appeared to be your living room, complete with an expensive-looking couch and dark blue Tiffany lamps on both end tables on either side. A lone, empty wine glass sat under one of the lamps. What in any other situation would have been some dark red wine dried at the bottom of the glass, he figured it was probably blood. Josh quickly noted the magazines you had strewn on the antique coffee table in front of the couch, along with a few unlit candles. You had a definite stack of different issues, a few National Geographics, some Vogues, a random Cosmo, and what he thought were a couple of Architectural Digests sitting off to the side, with pages clearly dog-earred for later. 

“Sorry about the mess…wasn’t exactly planning on having company over,” you apologized with a smirk. Josh almost called you crazy for thinking your apartment was messy, because it most certainly wasn’t. It looked…lived in…but it wasn’t messy. He had seen his fair share of Nests, and most of them were so bare-bones given the migratory nature of Vampires. As a species they didn’t tend to stick around one place too long. Even the solitary Vamps he had dealt with didn’t have ideal lodging situations. But it was clear you didn’t want to have just a crash pad between feedings…you wanted a cozy place to come home to. 

Opposite the living room was the kitchen. The lighting was very dim as you didn’t bother turning on any lights in that room. The normal appliances sat in there, but looked clean and unused. Josh recalled your earlier conversation on Vampires and human food. You probably didn’t have much use for it at all in the grand scheme of things. Beyond these two rooms were two more doors on either side of the central hallway, and a singular door at the very end. Even without seeing what was behind all three doors, Josh knew your apartment dwarfed his little attic studio significantly. 

You pushed open the door on the left, dramatically gesturing with a smile, “door number one is the guest bathroom…” Crossing the hallway you opened the opposite door, “and door number two is supposed to be a guest room but…I turned it into a library of sorts.” 

Josh stopped in his tracks and peaked his head into the room. You had bookcases lining the walls, full of tomes of various sizes and bindings. A lot of them were antiques in the current year, but he wondered if you had collected most of them when they were new, and had just held onto them all these years. Trinkets dotted all along the shelves in front of the books, and he wondered what the story was behind all of them. The fact that you were 350 this year struck him again, and he got even more curious about your life before now. He noticed a big squishy chair situated by the one window in the room, with another Tiffany floor lamp, this time dark green, behind it. The image of you curled up in that chair, reading whatever you desired made the corners of his mouth rise up into a smile. 

He turned to look at you, and saw you leaning against the doorframe reaching down to take your heels off. Wasting no time, he knelt in front of you and in a slightly clumsy yet endearing way, took your heeled foot out of your hands and slid your shoe off for you. Your hands rested on his shoulders during this to keep your balance, and you gently raised your other foot for him to repeat the process. Josh set both of your shoes behind him, and slowly looked up at you from his kneeling position. He wasn’t sure where the compulsion to never let you take off your own shoes came from, but it felt natural to him. 

You looked down at his big brown eyes, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your chest at his actions, which were quickly becoming a habit of his. Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek, and he fully leaned into it, nearly nuzzling your palm. He rose up from his feet to his full height and pressed you against the door frame, lightly brushing his lips on yours. 

“I haven’t even shown you the best room…,” you murmured, “come on.” You took his hand again and pulled him down to the end of the hallway where the final door was. This time you pushed open the door with little fanfare and you breathed a sigh of relief as you walked into your room.

Josh didn’t need to be told what room this was, the light purple walls clued him in immediately. In fact, most of the room was decked out in various shades of purple. From the doorway he could see directly out to a pair of French doors that led out to a small balcony, and through the gauzy curtains he could make out a table and a set of chairs outside. The most interesting feature was to the right of the room, where what looked like a giant arched opening in the wall was carved out to house a queen sized bed inside. The bedding was dark purple, and the duvet was pulled back enough that he noticed you had purple satin sheets to match. Thick curtains were fixed on the backside of the arch, only pulled about a quarter of the way across. 

You turned around and saw him staring and remarked, “not exactly a coffin…but with the curtains drawn it's pretty close.” 

“I wasn’t…that's not what-,” he stammered while his cheeks tinged pink.

You walked over to the bed after dropping your clothes in a small hamper and flicked on the two wall sconces that were attached to the wall inside the nook, illuminating the small space so that Josh could get a better look. There were a couple shelves above where your head would be, more trinkets and a few crystals lined the surface. But it was at the foot of the bed, hidden slightly behind the curtains, was the shirt he had given her the day before. You didn’t pay it any mind as your hand landed on the curtains and said, “blackout curtains. Not a shred of light can get through these.” 

Josh smiled and turned to the other half of the room, where he saw a desk littered with various makeup supplies, a couple books, and a journal with a pen resting on top. Also on that wall were two other doors, he assumed one was an ensuite and the other a closet. He took a few steps around the room, taking it all in while you observed him from your bed.

“You have a beautiful place,” he said softly. 

“It works for now,” you shrugged.

He nodded, understanding. His current place wasn’t ideal either, in all actuality it was a far cry from what he grew up with, but it was home for now. Inching his way over to your table, he looked down at the journal resting on the surface. He turned back at you, a cheeky smile slowly forming on his face, “you have a diary…a Vampire…diary…”

You fought every muscle in your face to not smile, you didn’t want to encourage him, but you faced and exhaled a little laugh, “yes…full of all of my Vampire secrets and night-to-night drama.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, “anything about…?”

You swayed your hips as you walked towards him, “about a very annoying hunter who wouldn’t mind his own business and tried to capture me with silver handcuffs?” Your arms looped around his neck and his hands settled on your hips, squeezing slightly.

 

His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at you, “...was this annoying hunter handsome at least?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “for a hunter he was alright…” 

Josh feigned offense, “just alright?” 

“Yes, for a wannabe Boy Scout he was decent,” you leaned forward and nipped at his chin. What he didn’t know was that you talked at length about him in your diary. He didn’t know your thought process flowed from how he annoyed you that first night, how irritating he was, how arrogant, how smart ass, to your reluctant alliance and the first night at the Den, to how worried you were when Dimitri almost went too far, to how maybe “Boy Scout” wasn’t that bad, to where you left off just as you were getting ready for your second night at the Den, before everything changed. He didn’t know about how you spent a few pages describing the worry that was etched on his face the whole time he got you back to his apartment that morning, how his eyes would not leave your disfigured feet, or how you almost passed out from the pain as he ran those final blocks to his building, or how it was his own racing heart that you focused on to stay conscious. Maybe you’d tell him eventually, but right now you just wanted to focus on the present. How you had a beautiful man in your room all to yourself, with zero chances of being interrupted by ignorant twin brothers. 

He pulled you close and secured his lips to yours, and for the first time you two shared a truly slow and lazy kiss, in no rush to do anything or be anywhere else. 

Pulling away slightly, you sighed against his lips, “I don’t want to cut this short…but I really need to shower…” A slight pout started to form on Josh’s face, “but thankfully…I have a real shower and there’s plenty of room for two people…” 

“Lead the way, sweetheart…”

You flashed a grin before skirting around him and bounded for the door behind him on the right. The bathroom was easily eight times the size of his dinky bathroom in the attic, with a gorgeous clawfoot tub at the far end of the room, and a standing shower in the corner next to it. You flung open the glass door to your shower, turning on the water and letting the warm spray and steam fill the room. You felt Josh follow behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, playfully lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. Laughter echoed in the room until it was silenced by his lips crashing into yours. The few pieces of clothing you both had on were shed in a blur, and the next thing you knew you were being backed into the shower, the lips of your hunter attached to yours. The cold tile caught you off guard and you hissed against his mouth at the temperature difference. 

Josh’s hands were everywhere, roaming your body as if he was afraid you’d disappear. Your hands were tangled in his hair, reveling in the fact you had him all to yourself. The way his hands were squeezing and grabbing anything he could reach on you felt incredible, and the evidence that he was feeling just as good was pressed up against your stomach. You felt it twitch as you scraped his scalp with your fingernails and lightly tugged on his hair. 

Smiling against his mouth you pushed him back to the other wall, and looked him in the eyes as you dropped to your knees.  His eyes were so dark, pupils blown as he looked down at you. The hot water sprayed against your back, wetting most of your hair as it spread out over your shoulders. He reached down and tucked some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face. Gently you took his cock in your hand, and he rolled his head back against the wall at your touch. You pumped him a couple times before looking up at his frazzled state and smiling. You were able to see him so much better here in the shower than in his dimly lit apartment, so you got to see details you missed the night before. The way his jaw was slack as you squeezed him, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly as you quickened your pace, and the soft sounds he was beginning to make because of you. Leaning forward you gave the tip of his cock a playful kiss, before fully taking the tip into your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck…,” escaped his lips and met your ears as you did so, his shoulders visibly relaxing as you moved further down on him. He was practically mewling as your tongue made patterns around and on the underside of his cock, cheeks hollowing out you pulled back giving him the perfect amount of pressure before diving back down. Your hands were settled on his thighs at this point, squeezing his tensing muscles and digging your fingernails into his skin for extra sensation. Josh’s hands had a firm grip on your hair, as if he was holding on for dear life. He tried to keep his head clear so he didn’t embarrass himself with how quickly his high was approaching him, but you were making that difficult as you reached up to cup his balls and roll them softly in your hand. He wanted this to last, and that wasn’t going to happen with the rate you were going and how fast your head was bobbing up and down on him. Gently but firmly he tried to pull you off of him, to get you back on your feet so he could give you some attention but you weren’t having it. Without missing a beat you reached up to take his hands from your hair and planted his hands on the shower wall. Your Vampire strength came in handy as he pushed against you, but he relented as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, mouth full of his cock. Your name echoed in the air as you went back to work on him, along with a string of more curses. He was close, and you practically smiled around him when you could tell he was feeling good from what you were doing to him. You relaxed your throat and went all the way down, letting the tip reach down into your throat while the curls at the base of his cock were simultaneously pressing against your nose. At this point he was thrusting into your mouth on his own, trying to keep up with the rhythm you had set. 

“Shit-, fuck, oh go-,” he sputtered out, opening his eyes to look down at you once more, not wanting to miss a second of this. You looked up at him one last time and his high hit him like a train, with a sound that started out like a loud groan but fizzled out into a high pitched whine filled the shower.. He spilled down your throat, and you gladly swallowed everything he gave you. As the last few drops hit your tongue, you slowly pulled off of him with a pop. The sensitivity was already setting in for him, but you couldn’t help yourself but to give the tip a firm kiss as he softened which caused his hips to jerk and soft squeak to leave his throat. 

Letting go of his hands against the wall you let him help you stand. Before you could get your bearings you found yourself pressed against the shower wall, Josh’s chest heaving against yours as he gave you one of the most possessive and passionate kisses you shared so far. Your mouth instantly fell open granting him access and he wasted no time slipping his tongue into your mouth. He didn’t care if he could taste himself on your tongue, in fact knowing it was him spurred him on even more. Your hands found their home in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls while your thumbs stroked the shaved sides of his head. The steam was filling up the shower and fogging up the glass. As you made out and moaned into each other's mouths, his hands kneaded the outside of your thighs. His right foot slipped between your feet and he nudged his thigh between your legs. Even with the heat from the shower, you could feel the warmth of the sigil radiating from his skin. 

You let out a gasp when his fingers crept around the back of your thighs and he pulled you up higher on his thigh, planting your core directly on top of the sigil. The combination of his searing kisses and the pressure from his thigh between yours had you biting down on his bottom lip, whimpering. Even with his lip trapped between your teeth you could feel his muscles spread into a smug smile. You began rocking back and forth against his thigh, while his hands helped guide your movements. He peppered kisses all along your face and your neck, working his way down before bending his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, causing you to nearly hit your head on the wall as you cried out. 

You sped up your movements as his tongue swirled around the sensitive skin, you were so wet you easily slid back and forth on his thigh. With a pop he let go of your nipple, and he moved to the other to give it the same treatment. In the midst of this, you felt his thumb reach over and just barely graze your clit. He held it there, just barely out of reach, causing you to jerk forward even harder to get any pressure from it. 

You were almost starting to get frustrated when you felt him chuckle slightly, and he let go of you to move up and whisper in your ear, “what is it? Need something?” 

The cocky tone in his voice caused you to shoot your eyes open, glaring at him, “you little shit…”

He kissed the hinge of your jaw and grazed his tongue along the shell of your ear, “you and I both know that is the wrong adjective to use, sweetheart.”

Before you could protest or make a sarcastic reply his thumb surged forward and gave you the pressure you needed, expertly rolling figure-8’s around you. Your movements faltered from the sudden burst of pleasure, and you could feel the coil within you begin to tighten. Your arms loosely looped around his neck for balance, and Josh leaned his forehead against yours. His free hand was gripping your ass so tightly as you moved that if you had been human there would’ve been bruises in his wake. 

He asked softly, “is that what you needed? Hmm?” 

All you could do at this point was nod with your high barreling towards you. There was no sense of rhythm now, just sloppy movements and gasps for breath. His thumb moved even faster against you, wanting you to come just as much as you did. He looked down to watch you move, slack jawed at how desperate you were to reach your high; how desperate you were for him. 

“Let go for me, baby…,” was all he whispered before you were shuddering against him. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders as you rode out your high. He kept up his movements even when it became too sensitive, giving you a little payback from earlier before retreating his hand and letting it rest on your hip. 

You began to catch your breath, and you started to disengage from your hunter, figuring the human was spent after your little escapade. You were wrong, so wrong. He sensed you trying to move away and confidently slid his hand up to your jaw, turning your head from the side to face him.

“Do you really think I’m done with you?” 

“I-”

He surged forward, pressing his hard cock against your stomach, showing you he was far from ready for this to be over. 

You smirked at him, “ok, Boy Scout…show me.” 

He grinned at you and spread your legs even farther to slot himself in between yours. With a small jump he had your back up against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. He captured your lips before rearing back and plunging into you. A horse growl rose up from his throat as he felt your slick walls squeezed around him. You were so tight, so warm, if he hadn’t already come just a few minutes ago he would’ve been dangerously close to coming again. His pace was rough, and a lot faster than your previous time together. He still checked on you though, watching your face for any hint of discomfort, but those hints never came. 

“Harder…,” you huffed out.

Not needing to be told twice, he adjusted the grip on your ass and slammed back into you, bottoming out completely. You cried out his name, loving that he listened and understood exactly what you wanted. His bruising pace never faltered, and once more, you felt his hand reach between the two of you to start rolling your clit between his fingers. You sucked in some air between your teeth, still slightly sensitive from your first orgasm but the feeling only added to your pleasure. 

Josh rested his head against your shoulder, murmuring into your skin, “need you to come again…need to feel it…” 

You turned your face towards him to brush your lips against the shaved side, you darted out your tongue to catch a bead of sweat, feeling the stubble. 

This caused him to whine out, “please…”

Clamping down around him again, you felt every ridge of his drag along your walls. The combination of the swollen head of his cock rutting against your g-spot, and his fingers squeezing and rolling your clit had your second orgasm start to form at the base of your spine. He bit down on your shoulder, and another growl erupted from his throat. The edges of your vision started to blur as you chased your orgasm.

With one final hard pinch to your clit, your orgasm crashed into you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body like lightning crackling across the sky. You screamed out at the intensity, not giving a shit if your neighbors heard you. 

Josh couldn’t hold on anymore and as you shuddered against him a second time his own high rolled through his body, and with a shout he slammed inside you one last time before completely emptying himself. 

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, both of you out of breath. The blood finally started to return to his brain and he lifted his head up to look at you, memorizing your blissed out expression. He couldn’t get over how fucking beautiful you looked right now, cheeks flushed, eyes closed, sweaty hair matted against your scalp. 

His Vampire, spent and exhausted. 

Carefully, he pulled out of you and gently lowered your wobbly legs to the ground. You bit your lip at the loss of him, the wave of emotion catching you off guard. 

You tried to walk to the water, but your muscles gave out and you stumbled forward, sending Josh into action and catching you before you fell. The one thing your spacious shower needed was also the one thing you didn’t have in here: a bench. Thankfully, the built-in shelf that held your toiletries wasn’t very far, and he guided you underneath the spray to get your hair fully wet again. You leaned your head back into the water, grateful that Josh was right there in case you got wobbly again. This time it was him taking care of you afterwards, and for the first time since you’d known him you didn’t want to argue. 

Before you could reach for your shampoo, he already had it in his hand, “turn around,” he spoke softly. Your eyes met his before you did so, another unfamiliar emotion became stuck in your chest, and you turned before you thought he could see it. You weren’t used to this, having someone care. The last time you hooked up with an individual it was very much a ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ situation, and you were ok with that. It wasn’t meant to be anything deeper, and that was ok. Then. But as Josh lathered up your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp, the mere hypothetical of Josh leaving as soon as he was done with you felt so wrong it threatened to let that emotion caught in your chest to bubble up into your throat. 

The feeling you had, when you were staring at him under that street light in the park, the one where you felt like a silly little girl, returned. At least, that's what you were telling yourself. That you were being irrational, that you were thinking too hard, that you were building expectations that didn’t need to exist. 

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice your hunters hands had left your hair, and had turned you around to rinse out your hair properly. When he saw your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and downcast eyes, he curled a finger under your chin and tilted it up, forcing you to look at him. 

“Still with me?” 

It was such a simple question, a little check in to make sure you were ok, but when your eyes met his, and those irises of molten molasses looked right through your facade, you couldn’t hold back that emotion lodged in your chest anymore. You threw your arms around his neck and clumsily kissed him again, allowing yourself to show him everything you were feeling through it. He hummed against your mouth and kissed you back, his hands gently rubbing circles in your lower back. 

After a few moments, the suds from your hair dripped down your back and onto his hands, reminding you both you still needed to rinse. 

“Sweetheart…,” he mumbled against your mouth.

 

You sniffed and nodded, feeling more grounded and less emotional now, and tilted your head back into the water and worked your fingers into your hair to get the shampoo fully rinsed out. 

The rest of the shower went by quickly, taking turns under the water to get bathed and fresh again. Josh’s hands barely left your body the whole time, as if he was afraid you would somehow float away like a lost balloon. You made a comment that he was trying to make up for him being unable to clean you up himself the night before, and he gave you a kiss on the cheek that said you were right, which made your chest tighten again. 

As you got out of the shower and grabbed towels for each other off the rack, Josh heard his phone buzz in his shorts pocket on the floor. Sighing roughly through his nose, he wrapped his towel around his waist and walked over to retrieve it, immediately seeing the “8 Missed Calls from Jake Kiszka”, and a slew of texts that mainly consisted of, “answer your fucking phone, fucker.” Before he could start to call him back, his phone buzzed again with Jake's name displayed at the top. 

With an eye roll, he answered the call, “this better be fucking good, Jake.” 

“Oh the prodigal son answers his phone! I’m so glad we have phones in case of emergencies!” 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

“I need you to meet me right now, and bring your little girlfriend. I think we might have just had a break in your case.” 

Josh turned around and looked at you, knowing you heard Jake on the phone loud and clear, “what do you mean?”

“I think we may have caught whoever the fuck is killing people in the act…”

To be continued...

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal ,

[bootleg-parable]

Guilty Tango ; A Parable Progression

It was another Tuesday.

Somehow, this book had yet to grow old, and here User sat, reading it for the seventh time since his arrival to the office. Something about the writing always reeled him in. Something about the atmosphere, the characters, the irony. It was a good book to get lost in. With ease, it always took his mind off of everything else when he needed it, and it kept him from constantly bothering–

“User?”

. . .Teller.

Two hands settled gently upon User’s shoulders and spun him 180 to be facing away from the desk at which he was sitting. User closed the book and rested it in his lap as he looked up to meet an expecting smile. He stared into the glowing opacity of Teller’s glasses as blankly as he could manage. He often wondered what the older man’s eyes looked like beneath the shining glass shields, but alas, there was no way around them, and User wasn’t one to pry.

“Did you need something?” He asked quietly, and briefly he turned his chair’s swivel to put the book on the desk. He had the feeling he’d be leaving it soon.

Teller took hold of User’s arms. “I am officially–” He paused to hoist the other to his feet. User did not protest. “Off the clock.”

“And only one hour later than yesterday. You must be so proud."

“Ahem. I. . .I apologise. Sometimes things get a little too busy around here.”

And yet User has never seen another person in this office building aside from Teller and-

...

He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m here, now.” Teller’s glove brushing up against the unwrapped side of User’s face made him bristle. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

User squinted. “I was kidding, Teller.” He swatted the eldest’s hand away. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“The way that you looked at me said otherwise.”

User’s facial expressions didn’t typically change. He didn’t think it had then, either. But perhaps Teller saw something that User didn't feel or care enough to realise. Even so, nothing came to mind, and he knew that Teller was insistent, almost to a charmingly annoying degree.

He only shrugged. Teller frowned with nothing more to say, and User, admittedly, was growing cold under that empty stare of his. Another reason why he wished that Teller would take those glasses off at least once. It was uncanny to look at his face and see nothing but two strips of beaming white glass where eyes should be. Glasses didn’t come like that. . .But he supposed he wouldn’t really know. He couldn’t remember anything before the office, and any memory that sprung to life in his mind always died and vanished soon after. Nothing was left for him. Not while he was here.

Is this even the real world? Surely it couldn't be. Not if Teller was capable of "respawning" in every instance after death. But maybe all of these people weren't actually Teller. Perhaps it was a title. Perhaps User never met the man he thinks he has.

In his spiral of thought, User didn’t even notice that Teller had gotten alarmingly close to him, with a grasp on his arms again, and was humming a tune to the both of them as he swayed in place. User stumbled, startled, and once his mind kicked back into functionality, it only got worse. Teller was trying to dance with him. User didn’t fancy the idea all too much.

“No–” He stuttered, leaning back to put distance between them. His voice got closer and closer to a whisper the more that he spoke. “Teller, I can’t– I don’t know how to dance.”

Teller only grinned. “How painfully stereotypical of you.”

User had seen this before. Every reset followed the same set of events, no matter how much time it took to reach certain ones. They couldn’t do this. User was trying to stop the loop, not entertain it. Oh, but how was he going to explain this to Teller without just hurting his feelings? Or without spilling the truth of this reality to him? Was there any way around this without looking like the bad guy? Maybe that’s something he’d just have to live with.

“Shit.”

He was so bad at it, too. You’d think with how many times he’d repeated this exact moment that he might’ve been better at dancing. But he kept tripping up. He stepped on Teller more than once now, but as always, the other’s patience was endless. Maybe User could just step away. Maybe Teller wouldn’t be bothered.

But what if he would?

“Sorry–”

He stepped on his friend again. Damn it, why couldn't he get this down?

“You are a terrible dancer, dear boy.” Teller insulted, but he laughed, and in that, User knew he was only teasing.

He tried to hide his embarrassed smile in Teller’s coat. He didn’t need to be seen grinning like that. He didn’t want to get close to this version of this man. It would make his death a lot easier to take if User couldn’t prevent it- to know that they were never as close as his previous selves were.

Hm.

Teller was so warm. It never occurred to User that he’s never actually hugged Teller until it was too late. Every embrace was never returned. Instead he always spent his final moments in a loop hanging on to something dead. Someone dead. This might not have been a hug, per say, but it was a welcome change of pace. To be this close to Teller while he was still alive.

While he was. . .

“Let go.” He pulled himself free. Teller might have blinked with surprise, but User couldn’t tell. He tried to think of something to cover up his abruptness. “I told you, I can’t dance.”

“I can tell,” Teller shot back. User couldn’t read it as playful or not anymore. That made him ache. “I stopped counting your fumbles after the tenth one, snrk–”

Teller didn’t usually take things personally.

That was a relief, and User sighed to acknowledge that. Teller rubbed the other’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m only poking fun at you, User.” He reassured, having taken the sigh as despondency. “You were doing fine.”

User gave him a look. There were far more troubling things to get twisted up about. Teller’s silly little insult was far from being one of them. And speaking of which, he had plans to write out. He couldn’t stand around humouring this game anymore. Lucky for him, Teller picked up on User’s wanting to be left alone.

“If you need me, simply shout for me,” He announced his departure as he started off down the hall. “I will be in the library, reorganising.”

User nodded once and watched him disappear around a corner. He didn’t like being alone very much, even less so knowing that Teller was alone. Anything could happen. He didn’t know if that damned 8-Ball would wait for everything to play out as it typically did. Maybe it had fun watching User scramble around for solutions with the time provided. Maybe it would catch him off guard and take Teller away from him while he wasn’t looking. There wouldn't be any light steps taken about this subject. Even if the end never truly was the end, User didn't want it to happen.

There were so many ways that this could all go wrong.

There were so many loops that all came to the same conclusion, no matter how hard he tried.

There were so many memories that only he retained and couldn't share.

User didn’t like being alone very much. . .

. . . There was a sound from the library. A loud, devastating sound. Something in User’s stomach dropped, and before he could even process the situation or his feelings, he was already mindlessly running down the hall. His heart was racing.

He was right.

The worst had come ages before the suspected deadline.

Teller.

[pedrostylez]

Something Else: The Breakup Drabble

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

summary: Santiago's ego is so bruised that he can't see what is right in front of him-a relationship that needs to end so that he can refocus

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 2.3k

warnings etc: drinking, ptsd, arguing, fighting, friend dynamics

A/N: NOBODY PANIC it's just Anna and Santi. (I say just but I mean, kinda sad) This is longer than what I would consider a drabble, but we need just a bit more context for Anna and Santiago's realtionship, and what exactly ended it...don't we? Once again, thank you to Hemmy @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta reading, spreadsheet-ing, and being extremely helpful. As I said previously there is one last part to this that I am currently working on, as with all my other wips.

I am a slut for respectful comments, thoughts, and questions, so feel free to send those to me either privately or on ask. Please support all fanfic writers by liking, reblogging, and interacting. Thank you! 

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

After The Confrontation

Anna walked to Santi’s apartment after having lunch with you, more calm. You had spoken about what bothered you, and she was going to try to make a change.  Santiago had let her in happily, asking how lunch was with you as he sat with Anna close to him. 

“It was okay. We hashed it out.” Anna said quietly, smiling at him. “Just some misunderstandings and mistakes.”

Santi hums. “What mistake did you make?” He questions, watching Anna’s head turn to his sharply. 

Anna shakes her head. “You just…assume I made the mistake? Not her?” She scoffs, pulling herself away from him. “It doesn’t concern you. I handled it.” She can hear herself getting defensive; too harsh and combative. 

Santi reels back, pulling his hand away from her shoulder.  He hadn’t woken up on the right side of the bed, still stressed from Frankie’s reaction to the opportunity for a trip. That stress comes lashing out against Anna. “Doesn’t concern me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Anna’s lip raises in a snarl, forgetting herself. “It means it has nothing to do with you.” She bolts upright, steering herself in the direction of his front door. She was not spending the night at his place as far as she was concerned, it doesn’t matter that she had just arrived. 

As she’s slipping on her shoes she hears Santi stand, huffing out a breath to get her to stop. He grabs her shoulder, holding her firm. “What is going on? You say she’s your best friend but Benny said she looked uncomfortable the other day when you spoke to her and Frankie. What’s that about? Did that get solved?”

Santiago doesn’t want to mention how Benny had sat in his passenger seat a few nights ago and mentioned Anna being too forward. 

He doesn’t want to mention that he saw the shift in Frankie, how he stiffened whenever Anna stepped closer to him. How he avoided double dates, and played it off that he was too busy. How group outings seemed to dwindle to nothing after the coffee shop incident. 

He thinks it's all in his head. 

He swears he is just insecure, like a teenager all over again. That this is just because Frankie is upset with him over the proposal of a new mission. 

Anna scoffs, shaking off Santiago. “Tell Benny to mind his fucking business.” She steps around him, shoving her shoulder with his. “I’m going home. Don’t follow me.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t. 

1 Month Later-Girls Night

Santiago feels the weight of the world on his shoulders everytime he sees Frankie. It’s a crushing weight, that he swears is what led to him letting down his friends-his family. They are his family, and he feels his heart clench at how he carelessly suggested going to retrieve the rest of the money again; how he didn’t have a real plan. No wonder Frankie had been distancing himself from Santiago; he wasn’t the leader anymore. 

It’s only been a month and Frankie has laid it out with all possible scenarios. What is the best way to get down there, how to cover their tracks, how to plan for worst case scenarios. He was initially impressed with how Frankie took the reins of the operation and forced them all to sit down and truly think about it. Frankie always started a meeting with a single question: how badly do we want this? He would lead the discussion, still quiet and listening, but more willing to tell Will “no”, or letting Benny get his frustration out before reeling him back in. 

Now, Santiago felt useless. He had never been able to do those things for them.

A month ago he thought he was at his lowest, feeling like his ego was bruised, his family was telling him he wasn’t a good leader, and his girlfriend was upset with him. He had apologized to Anna, calling her, showing up on her doorstep after she left his place, and asking her to forgive his blow-up. That he was stressed about Frankie, and he never meant to take it out on her. That he didn’t know why Benny had mentioned anything to him and he didn’t know why he brought it up.

It was a blessing in his eyes that she accepted the apology and moved on. His friendships and his ability to keep his thoughts straight and rational for planning this mission only seemed to get worse.  

Another meeting and Frankie’s teasing, shoving his shoulder to crash the girls' night that you and Anna had planned a few weeks ago. “They won’t really mind, Pope.”

“Anna will.” Santi sighs, starting the engine of his truck. He notices Frankie’s small smile creeping on his face. 

“Someone needs to take their drunk asses home.” Frankie amends, tapping the half-rolled-down window before loping over to his own truck. 

Silently, Santiago wanted to see how you and Anna were interacting now that you had talked out your issues. Something he still wasn’t confident wouldn’t cause a fight if he asked Anna about.

When he and Frankie pulled up to the bar in question, carefully looking around at those in attendance, Santi’s eyes locked on the back of Anna’s head. She swayed with you, slightly shorter than your frame but her head turned away from you as she watched the crowd. 

You looked like you were having fun-as if you had more to drink than usual. Santi went to bump Frankie’s shoulder to tell him where you were, but when he turned Frankie was already making his way through the crowd. 

Santi shook his head, smiling at how love-sick Frankie clearly was. Frankie had only had that look one other time, but never enough to bump shoulders with a crowd of people to get closer. He orders a single shot, assuming Anna would want another before he turns back to watch. 

Frankie’s approach is gentle, a hand around your waist before dipping his head to the side. He seems stiff, Anna’s arm that was draped over your shoulder sliding off as she looks at him. A question, Santi assumes, before Anna’s shoulders slump, turning around to face Santi. 

You’re oblivious, turning around in Frankie’s arms as he relaxes, eyes flicking up to Santi to nod once before entertaining you a bit longer on the dance floor. Santi’s eyes trail back to Anna, whose face is held tight. 

“I told you this was girl’s night.” She yells over the music, hand on her hip. 

Santi nods. “I know, I told him. Couldn’t keep him away.” He looks over to the bar where the bartender left the alcohol he ordered. “I got you another shot.”

Anna visibly sighs, looking at him and at the shot glass. “I wasn’t drinking tonight; wanted her to have fun.”

It surprises him how Anna had planned it out to be sober so that they could get home without their help. “Well, I’ll take you home…If you want.”

Anna doesn’t respond, leaning against the bar and watching you and Frankie. Santiago raises his eyes to do the same, watching how Frankie’s arm slides over your shoulder to herd you in their direction. 

Santiago watches Frankie speak to you without saying anything; how his eyes trail over him and Anna briefly before raising his eyebrows at you. He wants to scoff at how ridiculous it feels that you and Frankie have this silent conversation about him and Anna until Anna clasps her fingers around the shot glass and downs it. 

“Alright over here?” Frankie asks, resting his hand on your shoulder, squeezing lovingly.

“Yeah, man,” Santiago calls, looking over to Anna who is watching the interaction too. He sees how her gaze softens at their intimacy; how Frankie’s eyes flit between Anna and you, swallowing stiffly.

“Are you all set?” Anna asks, looking only at you.

You nod, pushing away from Frankie. “Let’s go to the bathroom, and then I’ll have Fishy take me home.” 

Santiago feels something like jealousy stirring in his stomach, but jealousy of what he is unsure of. “She didn’t want me to come.”

Frankie nods, shrugging. “We’re going to head out. Give you two some space to talk.”

Santiago hears him, but he isn’t sure what he means by “space”. He still doesn’t know what that means when he helps Anna into his truck, giving a small wave to your happy smile and Frankie’s nod. And now Anna is silent in the truck ride home not looking at Santiago if she can at all help it. 

He feels this spiral of insecurity that he has been struggling with since Frankie first said that they needed a real plan if they were to go again, and he wants to explode. “Bebita–”

“Please, don’t.” She cuts him off. 

Santi sighs, looking over at her and reaching for her hand. It suddenly clicks into place in his mind what he needs to do. Whether Frankie meant it this way or not, he needs to be focusing on one thing before they go on this trip. He doesn’t think it can be her. “We need to talk.”

He watches her eyes flash in anger before reeling herself in. She wants to explode too. “What do you want to talk about?”

Santiago sighs, looking away for a moment before building up the courage to say it. “I think we need to take a break.”

She stares at him for a long while, panic rising in his stomach that maybe he made a mistake. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to say; that he needs her to support him through this, that he can go back to what they were before. They were fun, they were in love as far as he was concerned. He continues to spiral until she asks if this is about Frankie and you. 

Santiago reels back, not expecting the question. “Why would this be about them?”

Anna’s eye roll puts him on guard. “I assume she told Frankie about our inside joke that made her uncomfortable and he came to you to whisper it in your ear? Is that why you’ve been acting so strange?”

Santiago is frozen in place, fumbling over words as she continues. “It was just a joke. We’ve been saying it since like, freshman year of high school. We’ve never actually switched boyfriends, and Brad was just some douche–”

“Stop.” Santiago cuts her off, squeezing at the steering wheel. Anna’s eyes flick to his, waiting for him to speak more. He swallows roughly, feeling derailed from his initial anxiety. His anger is starting to bubble over. “I thought you two made up.”

Anna takes a deep breath and looks at him. When she begins to speak, it’s like she can’t stop. No room for him to interject, just her spilling out all of the information of your confrontation, what you said, what she said. 

He doesn’t know how he got here, originally upset that he needed to break things off with her because of his own insecurities, and his inability to focus on fixing his friendships and keeping them safe and focus on his relationship with her. Now he’s fuming at how he missed all the signs. 

“Let me get this straight.” Santi scoffs, turning his full body towards her. “You’ve been making this joke, since you were 13, that you casually switch boyfriends? And you’re still doing it at almost fucking 30? And you didn’t think she would be upset that you were doing that…in front of him?”

Anna pulls so far back away from him that her head bumps the window. “I didn’t know he was in the closet hiding!”

“She felt like she had to hide Frankie from you.” He states, shaking his head at her when she furrows her brow. “I can’t believe you’ve been acting like that–”

“Why are you acting like this?” She screeches, holding her hands wide. “It’s been handled. I’m working on it. We talked–”

“She’s never going to correct you, Anna.” He sighs. “She’s too timid. She loves you and wants to see you happy, and it took…two years for her to even say she was uncomfortable with a joke? Her previous boyfriend was in love with you and told her as much when he was with her? You should have been groveling at her feet.” He laughs, shaking his head. 

Her anger bubbles out of her throat. “Shut up, Santi!”

He gives her a pointed look, talking slowly to her. He thinks he could black out this whole moment if he doesn’t focus on her. “I shouldn’t have apologized for pointing out what Benny saw. I should have believed him and not given you a pass. I fucking saw it too-how she dismissed us to close up the coffee shop. I should have known. God-Frankie kept tensing up around you and I was fucking blind.” He confirms, shaking his head. “You should have known. I can’t believe you. I don’t like anything you’ve told me, and I don’t even know if it’s the full truth.”

“I was in a bad place that night!” Anna exclaims, tears threatening to spill. “Mom had just told me to stop whoring around, and I can’t tell her that because she fucking idolizes my mom–”

“That’s not an excuse to sleep with someone she literally had sex with the night before.” Santi sighs, now reserved about the situation. “I wasn’t planning on breaking up with you over this, but if that’s what it’s come to, then so be it.”

Anna scoffs. “You’re not breaking up with me because of this. You’re doing it because your ego is bruised. Because Frankie is the one in charge and you can’t fucking stand it. You’re just using this as a fucking excuse, Santiago.”

“He should be in charge,” Santi growls, turning his head. He’s not going to give her the space to bite back. “I got Redfly killed, and I have to deal with that every day. You ruined your friendship with your sister and now you have to figure out how to mend it. And we will both deal with it, on our own.”

She sits there, dumbfounded by him, eyes glazing over. “You’re serious?”

He doesn’t respond with anything more than a grunt, unlocking the door as an indication for her to get out.

[mirrorballtales]

Now that I’ve had two sleeps to absorb TTPD and all 31 songs I think I’m ready to share my thoughts. I think they’re still all over the place. I’m having to separate so many pieces of my sadness, reframe timelines all while trying to not fall to my knees and break down.

Before I go on, I have to say I think this album is definitely for the older fans. I mean obviously it’s for everyone but as someone who understands the lore or as much as we’re let in, and the discography, some songs have a bigger significance so I understand it’s not connecting with everyone. I hope it grows on them. Her fountain and quill pens have always meant so much to me. I cannot imagine the insurmountable pressure she must feel having a random place their existence in her hands. As much as I love her I have to just appreciate the art and interpret it the best way it fits me.

I won’t talk about every song - just the ones I’ve had visceral reactions to.

Fortnight, so when I first heard it Thursday night I started crying. The line “I was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come get me.” Before a video was even released all I could think about were my hospital stays. I always joke about them. And all those jokes were funny and riddled with humorous truth. But when the punchline is given, and the laughter dies down, I’m left alone to grieve all that time I lost because of men and boys and people who ruined my life. They made me out to look crazy, like stints in these rooms were going to fix me. Pills I took to forget them just made me want to die. The scars I acquired like trophies are mine to wear like badges of honor. All of that is what I thought with just that line. Then the music video was released. I literally screamed. I saw it and sobbed with a sweltering scream of pain. Seeing myself chained up to a painfully lit room, chained up, drugged up all because I loved. All my life since, I’ve thought I only belong there. Every day, every emotion I’ve had has ruined my life. Ever felt so fucking crazy and no one sees you? That’s what this feels like. But every day. There was something about the way Post Malone hugged Taylor that broke me again. I can’t explain it. I don’t think I’ve ever been held like that. Not as a child. Not as an adult. In that moment I realized I’ve needed a tortured tragic poet hero to come break me out of the asylum. And I’ve waited. I’ve tried escaping but I am pulled back. I think it’s the first time I’ve admitted it to myself I don’t think I can do this myself. But I have no choice and it’s a painful realization that all my life I’ve had to save myself. I’ve been the crazy one in the family. I am the one that isn’t all there. I just want to run to anyone who wants to hold me and tell me they’re getting me out of there. Like I said the song had an incredibly raw and taxing effect on me.

Down Bad, I think this one is really easy for anyone who sits there crying because you’re well, down bad. And it makes you angry. It makes you sad. I think a reel of me being second choice plays in my mind. The boy I like telling me he doesn’t want me. Or the boy telling me I’m nice but there’s better out there. Or begging the guy you love not to leave and him telling you that you’re too much. So he leaves you stranded like he’s doing you a favor. And yeah fuck every single one of them. There’s a petulance saying that. Saying fuck you for not wanting me. Fuck you for not being down bad for me. Fuck you for not doing the all the fighting so you don’t lose me.

So Long, London. It’s track five. I gave all my youth for free. And to have to say goodbye to all of that like it’s my fault? Like it’s my prophecy to be a tragedy.

Fresh Out the Slammer, I’ve lived this song so many times. And then I grew up. I erased the number. Forgot it like my life depended on it but for a while, I knew who’d my first call was too. Then I realized they’d never pick up anyway. I know better.

Guilty as Sin? I’m very guilty. Listen to the way song builds like nirvana. And imagine yourself in it. Alone. I say this a lot but if you read my diary there’s an entry with these lyrics lived out by me. Tell me, you haven’t fantasized. Tell me you don’t recall things you never did. Tell me your body hasn’t longed before but you told yourself to let it stay in a vault. A fantasy where you’ve already done it in your head? I think it actually follows edging to completion. Your mind playing tricks on you, your sheets your only grasp, your chest rising and falling harder and quicker, labored breathing, waves of pleasure crashing into you, words escaping your lips, longing glances into other eyes while yours are closed. It’s a fatal fantasy that takes over you. And you worship it, religiously. Go ahead, recall the things you never did. Be guilty as sin.

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? You should be. This is a response to mirroball. It’s so easy to vilify the quiet, the nice, the good girl. And then she breaks. Then she’s done playing your chess games. Being a pawn in schemes. I feel this so much as an eldest daughter, as the one that has to be perfect and a degree below that was unacceptable.

loml, I want to acknowledge that this song broke me. I still can’t listen fully without losing it. They say wounds heal with time. But I’m still waiting.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, I think for me this is just how I’ve lived my life. I don’t get to be shattered without movement. I must be broken hearted and figure it out, be a tough kid, fake it, smile even if I want to die. It’s an art I’ve perfected.

The Alchemy, I’d like to wake up from the hospital stay. I’d like to be out of the vision in my head. Chemistry is something I’ve always been so fascinated with. You cannot fake it. You cannot learn it or grow it. It’s either there or not. It borders on magical. It’s the only time I believe in something otherworldly. You can’t fight it. You can hide it. Sure. But it’ll pull you out of darkness. It’s my favorite trope. Magnets. Addiction. The most human thing because you can’t make it in a lab. Like the hand of God said here’s the alchemy, you’ll find the other part of that equation.

In-depth thoughts for The Anthology will come later tonight.

[rothjuje]

I don’t know what happened, but we’re becoming farm people. I just spent 20 minutes comparing different kids of manure.

Yesterday I saw that my favorite farm stand had opened for the season and I squealed and Justin was like why don’t I build you a fenced in garden and you just grow your own? A bit later I was talking about quail for their tiny adorable speckled eggs and getting a rabbit just to use its droppings in the garden and Justin asked “why are you talking about quail and a rabbit? Our next animals are goats.”

So that’s what we’re doing, living out our farm fantasy hahaha. Justin discovered that goats eat poison oak and that people pay big money to rent them out to eat excess vegetation and Justin is sold. I’m not ready for goats, seems like a big responsibility, but apparently sometime soon. And apparently their droppings are more beneficial than rabbit droppings, but so are chickens if you compost them right.

Why am I this way? What happened to me? Instagram? I had chickens in Texas and I loved my girls, but I wasn’t this level of obsessed with them. But now I see all these different breeds and characteristics and egg colors and I have become a chicken hoarder. I had to stop going to my favorite tractor supply because I became friends with the manager and he kept getting me to take his store’s injured birds home. So far we have rehomed 4 aggressive roosters (but kept our sweetheart silkie roo) and have 18 total. Three starlight eggers, three buff orpingtons, three mystic marans, two Easter eggers, two silkies, two booted bantams, a leghorn, a rhode island red, and a silver-laced sebright. We’ll get medium green eggs, light green eggs, maybe some blue if we’re lucky. And lighter brown, medium brown, and dark dark brown from the marans. And smaller cream colored ones from the bantam ladies. And the leghorn will lay the standard white you’re used to from the store, fun fact I hatched fertilized eggs from the store once and leghorns are what hatched!

I saw some reel that said that chickens are the gateway farm animal and ding ding ding. Once you have chickens you start looking up guard animals and then you want a goose. Then you go to a feed store and see that they have turkens (naked neck chickens that are social/sweet and are so ugly they’re cute), turkeys, ducks, and quails. I mean ducks are stinky and messy but I’ll take the rest please, thank you.

My grandma was an animal hoarder, is this genetic? She had an actual aviary and llamas and cats. We had animals growing up but I remember begging forever for a Guinea pig, it’s not like we had a farm. But at one point I was breeding Guinea pigs and fish. And incubating chicken eggs. So maybe it is in my genetics. A 10 year old asking for fish breeding supplies is not on my radar, what kid does that? Maybe this side of me has lied dormant under some depression fog. I don’t know.

Justin being on board is dangerous though. He didn’t even say anything when he came home from his work trip to 6 new chickens living in his office. He wasn’t as pleased about my “pointless” fish though, but I am loving my little aquarium. It’s next to my aerogarden and it’s such a happy little corner.

Anyway.

We need to push back the retaining wall in the backyard. Well *need* might be a little strong. But the wood panels are rotted out and need to be replaced. Right now it’s 2.5 high and the field of poison oak beyond is starting to travel down and I am so severely allergic my arms are constantly covered is weeping wounds. We’re going to push it back til it’s at 4 ft and then build the chicken run, originally it was supposed to be 10 by 8, but now I’m thinking it needs to be 12 by 8 minimum.

We’ve been chipping away at excavating ourselves but with between the kids, the boulders, and my rash reaction it’s just not worth it, we need someone with a machine so we hired someone to come excavate it next week. With the space, our backyard will eventually be dining area w pergola, chicken run/coop, fenced in garden area, swing set and jungle gym for the kids, goat shed/area, then Justin’s big shed that he hopes to break ground on this summer. When we’re done with that we’re going to build steps up to access our side yard, clear and level the clearing, and then put pavers or bricks down for a fire pit area.

I am absolutely obsessed with our property. I want to utilize as much of it as we can, and I never want to take for granted that we are lucky to have land and live somewhere breathtakingly beautiful. Life isn’t perfect by any means, but I still feel like I’m living the dream.

[mjbunnyluv]

I am a fish

Hanta unlocked the door to the apartment and let out a heavy sigh of relief when cold air washed over him. This summer was brutally hot!

“Sho, I’m home!” He called out to his boyfriend. 

No answer. Shouto’s shoes were by the door and a package was sitting by the dining table. The cardboard was ripped like it had been hastily opened. Well, Hanta was pretty sure Shouto said something about having a package delivered today.

“Shouto?”

No answer again, but the sound of splashing from the bathroom told Hanta that he was correct in assuming his boyfriend was home.

The lanky man padded down the hall. As he got closer to his destination, he could hear singing. Nothing loud enough to make out, but it was a pretty melody. Hanta smiled to himself. He loved catching Shouto during moments like this. Ones where he wasn’t aware he was being watched. Those were the times he was most gorgeous in Hanta’s opinion. When he was unapologetically and authentically himself. 

More splashing and a strangled yelp echoed behind the door. 

“Sho, are you taking a bath?” Hanta asked, knocking lightly.

“Han?” His boyfriend asked, voice slightly panicked. “When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago. Can I come in?”

“Ummm…I suppose.”

Hanta reeled back and tilted his head in curiosity. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He twisted the doorknob and pushed his way into the room. The sight that greeted him as odd.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what I expected,” the lanky man chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

In the tub sat Shouto, surrounded by mountains of bubbles. That wasn’t all that strange really, but the long mermaid tail hanging over the side was certainly an unexpected sight. It was beautiful…Shouto was beautiful. The shimmering white and red iridescence was stunning.

Mismatched gray and blue blinked at him. “I am a fish.”

Hanta exhaled shortly through his nose. An imitation of a laugh. “I think you mean merman.” He smirked softly and raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe a siren since you were singing so beautifully just a moment ago.”

His smirk grew at the sight of a pretty blush dusting Shouto’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“It’s stupid, I know-”

“Don’t.” Hanta’s face fell. “Don’t do that. It’s not stupid. If this is what you like, why should anyone have a problem with it?”

Shouto tilted his head down and away. “My dad thought it was st-”

“Your dad is an asshole.” Hanta moved closer and crouched beside the tub. His fingertips reached out to brush along the beautiful fluke of the shimmering tail. It felt a bit rubbery. “This is really cool.”

Dual colored eyes shifted to look up through long lashes. “Really?”

Hanta hooked his index finger under Shouto’s chin and gently caressed smooth, damp skin with his thumb. “Really.” A gentle smile formed on his boyfriend’s lips. 

“I’ve wanted one of these tails for a long time. Since I saw videos of people swimming in the ocean and lakes wearing them.” Shouto sniffed and his smile grew. “I always liked playing mermaids as a kid when we went on vacation to the coast.”

“It suits you.” Hanta ran his hand along the tail again. “So, I’ve captured a merman…what ever should I do with him?”

Shouto’s blush grew, and his eyes shined as he stared up at his boyfriend from the tub. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

“Kiss you?” the lanky man asked. “But won’t you try to drown me?”

Red and white strands mixed as the merman shook his head. Wet hands reached out of the bubble filled tub to hook behind Hanta’s neck and pull him down gently. “Never.” 

Their lips met softly in a chaste kiss. Long fingers caressed Shouto’s jaw and something in the air shifted. Hanta never thought he could love his boyfriend any more than he already did. And yet…here he was ready to roleplay a forbidden love story between a merman and a human just because he’d do absolutely anything to make sure Shouto felt accepted and safe.

“Again,” the merman mumbled against the human’s lips.

“I think you’ve put a spell on me with your siren song,” Hanta said softly and leaned in again to capture warm lips in a loving kiss.

[subbybunnyboo]

i feel like this is something i can’t post in my channel with friends, but i need to vent

well, if i had made this post two or even one month ago i would have written ‘i fucked up’ as i said i hoped i wouldn’t in my “goodbye post”

but times go by and you start realizing that you were fucking abused and i’m not talking about physical/sexual harm and i havent been degraded (i mean only when i wanted to if you remember thematics of my blog). STRAIGHTLY. now i know what gaslight is first-hand.

i dont want to tell the full story here, just imagine situation when you have to overthink and rethink your every phrase several times before saying it with your partner. or feeling such a miserable person you have to visit therapists and stopping yourself from jumping under the train from thinking that you are a burden. i mean, yes, many people (sadly) experience this, BUT IMAGINE it all disappears right after you break up.

you feel like absolute shit and cry all the time, but when ‘should i kill myself?’-thought crosses your mind it doesnt stay even for a second. like, nah, i dont want to. i dont need to work on this, i just dont think that way

we broke up two months ago and i still feel broken. i tried to meet new people and they do like me and in two days they may treat me better than my ex in 5 months… but i just cant feel anything. they can be hell of a gentleman, get me flowers and coffee, shower me with kind words and we can have a great funny convo about lots of our common interests. but i come home and remember our first ‘date’ and cry. and i dont even cry like CRY, i just try to fall asleep while tears are going down my face. and we talk, meet again. but i feel nothing like i used to.

and i just saw a reels (99% of my feed actually) with a biker, but it was a special one for an unknown reason. i felt summer air. and felt how i want short nights, ‘white’ nights of petersburg, green, motorcycles on streets. and i miss..maybe what pops up in my mind a lot.. when it was “well i wanted to meet with you and i still do, so if you want it too…” “i do” “then what?” “finish your uni task, i’m ordering you a taxi” after he fell asleep when we were supposed to meet and not “what time should i come over?” *no respond* “i wont” “okay” and then blaming me in making scenes and saying “instead of this we could have a talk in discord, or you could be here and play with my dog or we could watch something, but no, you preferred making drama” when i did not make any. well, instead of acting like a jerk for whom i dont exist as well as my feelings, YOU could invite me for real, show me that you wanted me there or offer talking in disco.

no, i was guilty for everything. when this person was guilty - it was my fault. every single time

its just such a person. i dont know if all he has done was on purpose or not. i am not sure if i want to know. but he is probably too smart not to know what exactly he was doing

there is no single day i dont think about him and in my mind i just cant let him go. all that feeling like he is one of a kind. and connection. unhealthy, but connection

there is no abuse without good moments. and such moments make you think maybe if you did something slightly different… if you swallowed such treatment that time… understood him better this time…. but then you open your chat and read how he treats you like literal SHIT and it just hits you hard like a truck

i am deeply hurt. i am a person you should not meet and fall in love with right now. right now i can cause only pain, but im not a sick sadist, i dont enjoy it. but i understood i need to give myself time to heal. not to try meeting new people that would replace him. and for sure not to try to get him back. however, i dont know jf i will follow these words. hopefully.

and when i get free from this, i will meet my dream motorcyclist husband-material. maybe gym rat. maybe scott pilgrim type of nerd. hopefully somebody… kinder. more empathetic. and mature for relationship.

peace

[kpg-1126]

Next time on . . .

So I know I haven’t been doing the previews of the next chapter lately, mostly because I haven’t written far enough ahead.  So I decided to post the beginning of the next chapter. As a treat.

Mild spoilers from Chapter 6 if you haven’t read it.

---

Patty’s Living Room - Moments Later

Patty had just put the book down when Allison barged through the door, a nervous ball of energy, and Patty nearly jumped out of her seat.

"Shit, I forgot. Renée is coming over."

"What?" As if Patty's mind wasn't already full enough. "She's coming here?"

"Yeah, yeah. You said it was okay."

Patty scoffed. "When?"

"Last week, when she and Tim were here. We set it all up."

"Are you serious?"

"I mean, I knew you were distracted, but I thought you understood at least the gist of the plan, if not the exact date and time."

"But Allison, aren't you supposed to be working? I thought Bev’s closes late today?"

"Oh, sure, but I told Sam what was up and he said it would be okay."

"Oh." Patty wanted to know what was up, but was a little afraid to ask.

"Hold on," Allison said, "let me run upstairs and grab something. I want to set the mood."

"What? What are you—" Patty’s eyes grew wide. "Also, umm, I just talked to your mother, I'm not sure now is a great—"

"Oh, no worries, I saw her on my way here—she said we could catch up soon."

Patty abruptly shut her mouth and sat back down. What was this all about? What did Allison’s mom want to catch up about? And Renée . . . ?

Patty tilted her head back and took a deep breath, still reeling that Allison should burst through the door just as Patty read that line . . . she didn't even want to think about it actually. So she didn't. She listened to the faint creaking of Allison's footsteps above her, and what sounded like the crashing of a pots and pans. What was she doing up there?

After a few more minutes of chaos, the noises stopped, and Allison was back. Now wearing some sweatpants and a hoodie that Patty was almost certain were her own. Her hair had been put up and she had on no shoes or socks. Which was foolhardy, honestly, considering Neil used to live upstairs. Allison had a bundle of items in her arms wrapped in what might have been an embroidered tablecloth that was straight out of the 1980s. Or was it the 70s? Allison passed Patty and went into the kitchen, laying out the tablecloth, which hung awkwardly over the ends of Patty's small table, and setting up some candles. "Hey, can you toss me your lighter?" Allison said. "I forgot to put yours in my pocket."

"You forgot to what?" Patty asked, nevertheless grabbing her lighter and tossing it to Allison, who lit the candles and arranged them just so. "What is all this?"

"I told you, Renée's coming over."

"Should I go change?" Patty asked, furrowing her brows and motioning her head toward the newly prepped table. "Should you?"

"Oh, no, you're good," Allison said, "she said she likes the ripped jeans." Allison looked down at her own ensemble. "And I put this on especially."

"You goin' for a jog before she gets here?” Patty looked at the newly-lit flames, “You know, the candles will drip wax all over the table if we have to wait very long."

"Oh, no, this was for you." Allison said, indicating her outfit.

"Yeah, true, I did buy those sweats for me."

"You know what I mean," Allison said, raising an eyebrow, and Patty looked away, her mouth nearly hanging open. Just then, the doorbell sounded, and Allison cheerfully went to open it.

"Delivery for Allison O'Connor?" a deep voice said from the doorway.

Patty's eyes shot open wide again as Allison chuckled nervously. "Just trying it out," she called over to Patty as she grabbed the bags of takeout from the guy at the door and brought them into the kitchen, taking them out one by one. “I am not a big fan of McRoberts.” She grabbed some plates and arranged them on the table before carefully scooping pasta from the various containers onto the plates. While Patty just looked on in awe.

Allison was nearly done when the doorbell rang again.

As Patty got up to answer it, she turned to Allison. "Wait," she said, suddenly embarrassed by the realization, "is this some kind of date?"

Allison smiled her crooked smile, but didn't respond. Patty gritted her teeth and forced herself to answer the door. Renée stood there, a bouquet of Calla lilies in blue and pink in her arms, which she handed to Patty, while giving her a lingering once over. "You look nice, as always."

"Thanks, uh—" Patty laid the flowers gingerly on the side table by the door, "I need a cigarette."

Renée laughed. "Mind if I join you?"

Patty's face froze. "I thought you quit?"

"True. I'll have to steal one. You mind?"

"I . . . guess not." Patty said. Allison came closer to the door. Patty shrugged and held up her pack of menthols.

"Oh, you two have fun. I'll get out the wine." Allison said, giggling that stupid giggle that popped up when Renée  was around. "Wait, don't forget your lighter," she said, tossing it back to Patty as Renée  stepped outside. Patty nearly dropped it, but managed to snag it with the other hand as it slipped through her fingers.

Once out on the porch, Patty shook out a cigarette and handed it to Renée, who put it to her lips, leaning forward to allow Patty to light it. Patty then got her own, and looked off down the street as she took a drag, trying not to look at Renée, who was wearing the dress part of a navy blue dress suit, without the jacket, which she had left inside. There were no sleeves, and the faint outlines of her arm muscles brought to Patty's mind Allison's habit of wearing exclusively long sleeves . . . although less so lately. The square cut neckline of Renée 's dress fell just below a long necklace, which settled right above the very hint of cleavage, a blue pendant (was it a sapphire?), which sparkled in the moonlight as Renée turned slightly. Patty, realizing she was staring turned away before she could see Renée smile.

After a minute, Renée interrupted the silence with a quick laugh. "I guess this is a little weird."

"Is it?" Patty said, trying to play it cool, but also desperately wondering what the hell was going on.

Renée smiled sympathetically at Patty's obvious discomfort. "I don't do this very often, to tell you the truth. It's not how I usually—"

Patty laughed awkwardly, almost hoping Renée would stop explaining. "Of course not," Patty said. "So how was lunch the other day?" Patty asked, hoping that maybe a description would clue her in to whatever was going on.

Renée smiled. "Oh, it was great to catch up. We were just talking logistics, you know. Allison was concerned that you wouldn't really be on board with the whole thing."

Patty let out another nervous laugh, but left it at that.

"But here you are," Renée continued.

"Here I am," Patty said with false enthusiasm. Renée smiled a big smile, her perfect, white teeth gleaming in the soft light. Patty cleared her throat. "I guess we had better go back in—seemed like Allison was really setting something up in there."

Renée nodded and stubbed out her cigarette, while Patty did the same. "Thank you, though—I needed that tonight."

Patty pursed her lips and nodded, letting Renée back inside the house. Patty looked around and realized that Allison had turned off all the lights but a small lamp in the corner, the only other illumination being the candles on the table. 

Allison came to greet them, smiling at Renée and giving her a warm hug before pulling back and bringing her hand up to finger Renée's necklace, pulling the pendant away and admiring how it glinted in the low light. "That's exquisite," she said, as Patty frowned, and Allison gently rested the pendant back in the shallow dip just above Renée 's dress and let her fingers linger there, as she turned to Patty and smiled.

Patty thought she could hear the faint sound of sniggering laughter in the distance, but couldn't tell where it was coming from. A thought popped into her head. "What did you just say, Allison?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just said something about Renée's necklace."

"Oh, that it's exquisite," Allison said, her hand moving back up to Renée 's pendant, Renée smiling slyly as she did so, and Allison once again looking at Patty, her eyebrow slightly raised. Then there it was, the laughter in the distance, growing a little louder now.

"You wouldn't say that," Patty said.

"Wouldn't I?" Allison shrugged, her messy ponytail swinging.

"You wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" Renée asked, suddenly joining the conversation.

"Almost certain," Patty said. "And you wouldn’t just randomly smoke a cigarette if you quit recently."

Renée laughed. "I wouldn't?"

"No." Patty said. 

"You're probably right," Allison said, turning toward the front of the house. "It does seem a little strange, doesn't it?"

Patty’s eyebrows furrowed, as she, too, turned toward the front of the house. "Who are you talking to?"

"Don't you see them?" Allison said. "Staring at us intently?"

"What?"

"Yeah, they're trying to figure out whether this is real. Just like you."

"Hmmph." Patty said. "I'm pretty sure it's not."

"Makes sense," Allison said, nodding.

"But you've been fooled before," Renée added, chuckling. "So who knows?"

[mycameraandmythings]

Time

I don’t like to talk about age. To me, age is the sign of time passing by. And time is a big thing for me at the moment.

If anyone would have told me when I was 12 years old, that my life would be as it is now at my age, I wouldn’t have believed it. You see, the generation from the 80’s (yes, I belong to that group…) in majority, grew up thinking or with the mentality that by the time we were all 35 and up, we’ll be married, with children and a house of our own. Well, nothing far more from reality.

The truth is that I moved countries four times looking for stability. That’s not something you can find in the supermarket around the corner. “Oh, I ran out of stability, have to go buy a little bit more and don’t forget the rest from the list”. No, no, I realised is something you build, everyday with your commitment and your actions. 

Yes, I know now that changes take time, but sometimes it just feels so frustrating. Somedays, I think I haven’t accomplished anything, that I’m a total loser. I feel that I’ve tried everything and nothing happened. I even wonder if I have tried my best yet… Other days, I cheer myself up thinking that not everybody moves countries and leaves everything behind. I’ve done it without hesitation, maybe in a reckless kind of way. (Now that I think and say it like this, can’t help but to laugh… Am I that crazy?)

Last week I went to Kontanz, in the south of Germany to spend the day and as I was looking around this cute little book shop, I found this postcard:

It felt like the world was talking to me. 

I like this feeling when I’m about to lose hope, someone or something out of pure magic, just comes up and recharges my batteries. It’s like a hug from a friend just because… What am I doing? Am I doing it right or should I do something else?

But as I had this idea in my head all week, I thought maybe these are not the proper questions. I guess the real ones are: “what do I want and how do I get there?”

Yesterday I saw a reel on Instagram and the music for it was a verse that said: “I think happiness is about letting go of what you thought your life was supposed to be and just embracing where you are now and how special it is”. 

No words needed.

And then it got me thinking. I have to let go of the idea I had when I was 12. I have to let go of all those things that, secretly, I think maybe are holding me back because I can’t see what’s right in front of me. Yes, I’m not married, I don’t have kids and certainly don’t own a house. But I’m on a different journey, I guess. I just hope it takes me on a fun ride and hope that it helps me to keep faith even when everything seems a little dark. 

Note to self: I’ve learnt a lot, including a third language, met incredible people who show me everyday that all of it, all of this, is worth it… So, world, I listen to you: I’ll keep dreaming in the hopes I get there.

Here is one of those triangle houses that I love so much!

[forabeatofadrum]

AO3

–

II

~~

2055

“Well, something is wrong.”

I almost fall out of my chair when I hear Simon’s voice.

The ghost of Simon Snow is once again in my living room. I know that the Veil has lifted again, but I didn’t expect to be Visited. Simon has had his chance to tell me what he wanted to say. We said our goodbyes, knowing that it was the end.

Now, he’s here.

“What- Snow- What?” I stammer. I never stumble over my words, since I like to boast my eloquence, but even now, Simon makes me look like an idiot. I get up and I walk towards him. This time, I’m not flinging myself at him. This time, I’m too confused.

He’s not supposed to be here. He should’ve moved on twenty years ago.

Simon is looking at me with a frown. “You, uh, haven’t aged a day.”

That pulls me out of my confusion.

“Oh. Yeah. That.”

“And you’re still wearing jeans!”

Of course Simon focuses on that instead of the elephant in the room.

Guess what? Vampires are actually immortal. I mean, I think so. Simon is wrong, though. I have aged, but I don’t look like it. When I hit forty, it feels like my body entered a permanent state.

I had no idea what was happening. I called Bunce in blind panic.

Turns out that Shepard, her husband, is a Normal who knows a shit ton about magickal creatures. That’s how, after forty years of life, I learned what it’s like to be a vampire. 

It sucks.

I can’t stay in one place for too long, so I’ve moved out of London and to Manchester. I cannot make connections without people noticing that I am not growing older. My loved ones are continuing their lives, while I stay behind.

Dev and Niall are grandparents, and I’m still ‘forty’.

I tell Simon all of it. 

“Huh. That’s weird,” is the first thing that he says.

I snort. It is weird.

“If I am eternally eighteen, then you are eternally forty.”

It’s a curse.

But that’s not the only thing that’s wrong about this situation.

“Snow, not that I am unhappy to see you, but why are you here?”

Simon looks around, and he seems as confused as I am.

“I… have no idea,” he admits and rubs the back of his neck. Fuck. He didn’t do that the last time I saw him. He didn’t do that during his last Visit. It’s been forty years since I saw this classic Simon Snow quirk. Even this little thing makes my heart soar. “Well, I’m not mad about it. I wanted to come back.”

He gives me a cheeky smile, and that’s when I break out of my confusion.

I mean, I am still utterly confused, but I push it aside and I step towards Simon. I grab him by the back of his head and I kiss him.

He’s still cold. It’s as if my insides are freezing, killing me softly. But I can’t die. I know that now.

“Maybe that’s it,” I say against his lips. He rubs my upper arm with his thumb. It’s gone cold and I am almost afraid he’ll actually cover it in ice, even though I know that’s not possible.

“Hm?” he hms.

“Maybe that’s why you came back,” I say, “You wanted it, so it happened. Your magic has always been strong like that, love.”

It’s a viable theory. He was able to speak words with magic, creating spells left and right. Circe, Simon’s thoughts alone were magic. He gave himself wings by wishing on it!

Extraordinary.

“Simon, your magic is-”

“Gone,” Simon finishes before I can, “My magic is gone.”

I pull back so that I can get a better look at him.

Gone?

What does he mean?

Well, sure, he’s dead and it’s known that Visitors cannot cast anymore, but if there’s one person whose magic could defy death, it’s his.

“I gave it away,” Simon says and I frown.

“You… when?”

“Just before I died,” Simon answers with a shrug. My mind is reeling. He did what? “The Mage wanted my magic, so I gave it to him, and it killed both of us. I don’t think he could handle it, and I couldn’t handle losing it. I remember his face when he realised what was happening. Pretty certain I must’ve looked the same.” He laughs humourlessly. “After all, I did not intend to kill both of us. But before I fully realised it was happening, I was dead.”

My body’s gone numb, but not from the cold.

I never knew this.

No one ever knew this.

The death of Simon Snow and the Mage has been a mystery for the past forty years. Bunce and I spent years trying to figure out what happened, but it never made sense. After ten years, we gave up on understanding. By then, the Coven had already stopped caring. They were happy enough for the fact that the Humdrum was gone. Mitali tried to keep the investigation going, but it was useless.

Now I understand why.

Simon died by giving his magic away.

Okay, yes, Bunce and I were aware of the magic sharing skill. We both know it hurt to have Simon’s magic flowing through our bodies. I suppose that in a way, it makes sense that too much of it kills someone.

But giving away is different from sharing.

“How can you give away magic?” I ask him.

He smiles sadly.

“Same as sharing, although this time I knew I wanted to give everything and I didn’t stop,” he answers, “Well, until I died. Still don’t really know why that happened. One moment I was alive, and the next I was not.”

He says it so easily. There was nothing easy about Simon’s death.

“But anyway, I don’t think my magic brought me back, because I am pretty sure I died as a Normal,” he shrugs again, but I know it’s hurting him to say it.

Then, what is keeping him here?

Because whatever is keeping him here has my eternal gratitude. Literally. I am immortal.

“Normal or not, I still love you,” I tell him and I kiss him again. I am granted this unexpected extra time, and I am going to enjoy it.

--

End notes: Thank you @martsonmars​ for coming up the the addition of the jeans. Even in death, Simon cares about the important things in life, namely Baz looking fit in jeans.