You can call me Anto! Iâm 20, she/her and I speak both Italian and English so sorry for eventual spelling mistakes :,)
I had originally opened this blog to promote my original work but lately Iâve been feeling old ao3/Wattpad fanfic nostalgia so Iâve decided to try and start posting something abt fandoms Iâm really into (these may change with time). Take it as writing practice đ«Ą
You can also find me on:
Wattpad: ant0inne (inactive)
AO3:antoimne
Quotev: antoimne (inactive)
Fandoms Iâll be writing for:
-creepypasta
-identity v
+ maybe some resident evil stuff and probably more but weâll see
You can find my masterlist here!
Rules:
-dni if youâre a bigot in general (including homophobes, racists, Trump supporters, Zionists eccâŠ)
-as for now I donât plan on writing nsfw but if I ever do minors please donât interact.
-will probably write a lot of ooc/non canon cuz itâs fun + dark content/angst
-also might use this blog for random shit sometimes cuz why not
-idk Iâll probably add more, just be a decent human being I guess đđđŒ
My asks are always open and Iâll reply as soon as I can! (Mind you Iâm an uni student so sometimes I might take a while).
Aaand if you came all the way here hope you have a good day/night! :)
Hey :) Read here!! Before all, i'd like to say i've CHANGED some things i did not quite like before so if you would i suggest rereading the previous chapters to avoid confusion (for things here and future events)!
Also, i'm sorry i've taken so long to update but motivation is shit and uhh...whatever, i'm here now :D Not sure anyone is still reading lol but in any case enjoy!
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Generational trauma.
âSometimes itâs generational trauma, they say.
âWe do the things we doâ certain thingsâ because itâs engraved in our DNA, you know? Itâs not entirely on us, though it seems like it is. Weâre just acting on the behalfâŠâ
A scapegoat. An expedient, an easy escape.
Othersâ damage and suffering falling on you, forcing you to pay the full price for wrongdoings that happened long before you were ever born.
You might flinch at loud noises, haunted by wars you never fought. Being this wayâ a clusterfuck of wrongness stacked upon itselfâ because everything about you is wrong. Your actions. Your reactions. Your personality. Your thoughts. Wrong is what you believe in, and what you donât. Wrong is what you do, and all the things you donât. Wrong is the things themselves and their opposites, the contradictions, the paradoxes.
Itâs comforting, isnât it? A damn good excuse'.
Those words from a young therapist had been buzzing in Jeffâs mind, blending into his thoughts over and over. Mindfulness and reflectiveness had never been his forteâ all of it was new to him, really.
'Is that why Iâm like this too?
Must be.
Is it, Mom?
Always been quite the troubled kid.
âI used to be so sweet,â you said âSuch a shame something mustâve gotten in the way, making you so difficultâ.
The polar opposite of Liu, right?
Begging for affection through antics, misbehaviorâ hoping someone would respond. Letting you go wasnât easy, was it, Mom? Were you also this attached to your own mother this sick, poisonous way? You mustâve been. And she mustâve been just as cold and cruel as you becameâ distant, not gentle like motherly care should be. Thatâs what you learned. Thatâs what you passed down to me.
You tried to be better. But just like me, you couldnât help it. That black, nasty, sticky apathy, crawling like parasitic vines through your mind, through your actions. Acting on hatred.
Maybe one just isnât fit.
So many people do things because they happen to be, because they occur, right? Stupid fuckers. Egoistical pieces of shit.
Dad too. Itâs hard to remember his faceâ barely do anymore. We were never close. Could barely stand him most of the time.
Funny, isnât it? People getting upset that you canât bear their presence when itâs a struggle just to stand your own family. Mustâve been sad, growing up like him. But as they say: âThose were different times, no?â
Thatâs for talking backâ bam!
This for not doing what I asked in under a minuteâ boom!
âI never take shit from stupid kids like youâ his own father would scream at him; It's natural you grow up and never want to take shit again. And you wonât, because youâre finally the one in charge.
âYes. Itâs my turnâ he probably thought with a weird, sick excitement.
I understand now. All the time wishing heâd just diedâ maybe it wasnât entirely his fault. Itâs generational trauma, right? Copy the pattern. Project. Repeat.
So sad. Sad to even think about.
And then thereâs the other pup of the familyâ Liu.
Liu, Liu, LiuâŠ
How long has it been since Iâve seen you?â
Those thoughts had been gnawing at Jeff like a heavy internal monologue ever since heâd met up with you. Just as youâd agreed. Just as youâd planned.
His eyes fixed and cloudy, staring somewhere imprecise. His already limited blinking had grown even stifferâ if that was even possible.
Jeff had been meticulous in planning your escape, down to the last detail. To you, heâd always seemed unpredictable, impulsive. But when personal stakes were involved, even he could think things through.
All week, heâd worked to craft the perfect circumstances. Of course, he had to be careful not to raise suspicionâ but it helped that the staff was understaffed, drowning in emergencies. Ten a day, minimum. Heâd played the usual game: smug, provocative, the antics that nurses barely had time to notice anymore.
It had been a tough week. On top of everything, thereâd been an emergency that had sent the hospital into chaos.
Sallyâ stuck-in-the-past Sallyâ had tried to end it all. Found by Jane, submerged in a bathtub, her eyes shut tight as bubbles popped against the surface. Jane had pulled her up immediately, but Sally was confused. She didnât know what had happened. She started crying, insisting her mama had left her while bathing. She looked down at herself and panicked even more, wailing, âI need my clothes! I need my clothes!â
Bathing had always been hard for her. The only one who could manage it was Ann, one of the head nursesâ the oldest one. Sally would giggle and clap when Ann was near. She mustâve looked a lot like her mother. But Ann had taken a few days off for personal reasons, and a fresh graduate had been assigned the task.
Turns out Sally didnât like her. The new face, the unknown. The intern had gone to fetch tranquillizersâ too late. Sally had slipped under just long enough to nearly drown.
Jane was furious. And not just herâ Director Manson too.
Director Alexander âSanderâ Manson, head of the psychiatric department. Heâd always been particularly fond of Sally, given the years sheâd spent there. He wasnât just angry about the lack of care. Heâd also received immediate backlash for âbad management and personnel training,â with threats of further fund cuts looming over him.
That incident shook you more than youâd expected. Partly because you liked Sally, and partly because of Natalieâs recent loss. But thereâd been something else piling onto it all.
Jeff, of course.
Youâd gone to meet him just as heâd mentioned after your little night confession on the roof. He hadnât specified where, but you figured youâd meet somewhere in the middle of the path to both your rooms.
Surprisinglyâ maybe not so muchâ he wasnât there.
You felt foolish standing in the dimly lit corridor alone like a schoolgirl ready to sneak out with her sweetheart, yet part of you also felt as if a weight had been lifted. The fear of having avoided something wrong and dangerous, something you mightâve regretted later. After all, youâd spoken out of a rush, euphoriaâ the fantasy of imagining a life that probably wasnât meant to be, even if you got out.
Of course, he mustâve spoken out of pure euphoria as wellâ a fleeting feeling settled into an empty promise. Part of you knew it was pointless. That it wouldâve gone nowhere. And luckily, youâd followed that gut feeling. You hadnât brought any bags or belongingsâ though you didnât have much worth taking anyway. It wouldnât have been ideal given Jane had caught you walking back to your room, quickly catching up to question you.
You were fast enough to come up with a reasonable excuse.
The bathroom. Simple as that, a quick night trip to pee.
âMh. Dr. Nyras said it was bound to happenâ Jane said, her gaze locked on you. A weird feeling of unease washed over you, your eyes slipping away from her arched browsâ your tell when she had something on her mind she wasnât sure about.
âItâs the new medication. Bladder problems, am I right?â
âUh, yeah. Yeah, must be thatâ.
An awkward silence stretched between you before you stepped back, creating more distance.
âUhm⊠may I go? I think itâs kicking in. The medication, I mean, i'm feeling dizzyâ.
âGoodnight. Next time, you might want to use the call button if you need assistanceâ.
You nodded and slipped away.
You didnât really speak to Jeff over the next few days. You avoided him entirely whenever you had the misfortune of crossing paths.
He seemed thrown off the first few times, turning to speak to youâ though you always found a way to dismiss him.
âCâmon, you really are going to act all prissy about it? I just had an inconvenience, is all. You won't even let me explain!â
Heâd laugh it off before switching to a far more serious, almost frightening expression over the next times he tried to confront you âHey. Iâm talking to youâ.
Of course, you resisted. You never turned or bothered to talk back. And that soon started pissing him off.
âAlright, you really wanna play that part? Youâre such a fucking child!â he screamed after you when you ignored yet another one of his attempts.
âYeah, walk away, like that! All youâre good at doing anyway, you fucking coward!â
It seemed ridiculous. He was the one being unreliable, and he thought he had the right to be mad?
You really wanted to talk to someone, to confess all your plansâ the secret that now felt like a boulder pressing against your chest, but you werenât sure it was a good idea.
âWhat did you do anyway, to make him this mad?â
As Toby spoke once, sitting on a table eating lunch, you felt the urge to let it all out. Yet you couldnât find the right words.
âYou know how he is. Gets mad over everything. Heâs probably just⊠dunno. Give him a few days, and heâll be back to normalâ
âMh. If you say so⊠never seen him get this pissed over seemingly nothing, thoughâ
âTobyâ
âYeah?â
âSay...you were to tell something that could get you in trouble⊠a secret, to someone you know to be a bit unreliableâ
âAre we talking about Jeff?â
âJust listen, okay?â
âAlrightâ.
âSo, figure youâre in a position like that. Say thereâs the risk this person is really pissed, even though theyâre the ones who flunked you. What would you do?â
âUhh, well, Iâm not the best with this sort of thing, considering Iâm usually the one on the other side. But⊠I suppose the best you could do is talk it out? Try to calm things down a bit, at leastâ
âMh. Okay. Youâre probably rightâ
âBut are we talking about Jeff?â
You didnât respond. Instead, you focused on stabbing your straw into an already-empty juice box. He nodded, understanding, letting out a dry laugh âWell⊠youâll need more than good luck, thenâ
Later that afternoon, after finishing your shift helping clean up the kitchen, you were making your way back to your room when someone grabbed your arm, yanking you hard into a side corridor.
The flickering lights soon revealed Jeff, watching you with an expression that was⊠unreadable. Irritation, slight amusement, and a hint of something aggressiveâ all mixed into a cocktail you couldnât quite name.
âYouâre really gonna keep avoiding me and talking to everybody else, huh? Even Tobias fucking Rogers, really? Ouch. Iâm almost hurtâ.
âLet go".
âWeâve played this stupid fucking act far too long, donât you think? I get tired easily, and your attitude is really pulling on my dickâ.
âLook, I donât want to argue or whatever, but the other day, something⊠you just helped me understand something crucial, you see? Youâre unreliable, Jeff. Utterly, completely fucking unreliable. You only think about yourselfâ no regard for anything or anyone. And I canât risk screwing my life up foreverâ more than it already isâ trying to keep up with whatever bullshit parallel world of your own you live in. Iâm not some sort of doll. Not a dog you can carry around just to avoid your own lonelinessâ.
âHey, calm down a second, will you?â
He eased his grasp on your wrist, raising his hands in surrender as you clutched your arm to your chest, frowning at him.
âLook, yeah, Iâm sorry. I shouldâve⊠I donât know. Handled it better, okay? Yeah, Iâm a fucking mess. I knowâ He stepped closer, holding his hand out to you.
Oh, he was such a fucking piece of shitâ a piece of shit so good he knew exactly which buttons to push with you. You saw it in his eyes, burning into yours like two black, eerie orbs. The way his hand caressed the side of your face until you couldnât help but automatically sink into it. It was always like this. Automatic. A reaction as primordial as if it had been imprinted in your DNA the moment you first met him, just waiting for it to bloom.
âI just had shit to do, right? I want to get out of this place with you, but I need to do it right. I donât want to hurt you, baby. Each other is all we have now, right?â
âI just thought you mightâve tried to flunk me. Leave me. Expose me to the staff for⊠I donât know, a benefit or somethingâ.
He laughed, sliding a hand over his face. âOh, fuck me! You really think Iâm that much of a jerk? Going and snitching on you like that?â He pressed his index finger a little harder into your cheek âCome on. I know you know better.
Now the timingâs finally right. Iâve fixed it all for usâ all we need. Youâve seen what happened, right?â He withdrew his hand, glancing back conspiratorially a few times âThe old manâs been receiving shit now for what went down with the Oldbag. Little does he know the little stunt weâre gonna pull soonâ just for him. Funny, right? For us, of courseâ.
At your lack of reaction, he crossed his arms, frowning as he looked you up and down.
âDonât get all weird on me now, will you? Been all depressed all week. We donât want anyone putting extra attention on you and making it all more complicated, no?â
âRight" You shook your head "We do notâ
âAnd we donât want all the effort Iâve been working my ass off to go to waste, do we?â
You shook your head once again.
âThatâs rightâ He tilted your chin up, teasing your bottom lip âThen smile for me and quit fucking frowning all day, huh? Canât be the only one here actually committing to this. And you donât plan on leaving me alone after weâve come this far, do you? Remember our little discussion? You seemed so willing. Itâd be a real shame".
âI do. And I have no intention of stepping back. Iâm sorry. I appreciate⊠really appreciate all youâve been doingâ You hesitated, a wave of guilt washing over you âSorry for doubting youâ
He wasnât fully convinced. You immediately recognized the look in his eyesâ the one he gave you when he didnât buy whatever lie you were feeding him. You huffed.
âIâm just a little sad for Sally, is all.â
âDonât be. Nurses surround her day and night. Sheâs in good hands- and thus, pity never saved anyoneâ His voice was gentle, though it felt misplaced given his expressionâ those empty eyes, the flat expression with just slightly raised lids, trying to appear concerned as he knew you were scrutinizing him âPlus, sheâs been a huge help, yâknow. Gave us plenty of free space to do what we needed. Best thing you could do for her is not waste her efforts and run away from here, just me and youâ
You nodded.
âNow, thank Sally by giving me a big, big smileâ
You nodded once more and tried your bestâ though still unsureâ to force a grin.
âThatâs right. Mh, mh. Okayâ.
Jeff had it all figured outâ or so it seemed. The most crucial part, and his only chance, was to take advantage of the last evening nurse shift before Annâs return. Apart from Jane, the others were mostly newbies, making it easier to move around. Director Manson believed it was good to give fresh, young people a chance- too bad his timing was shit.
Heâd snatched a few sedative pills from Sallyâ who was on an extra dosageâ easy to trade for her lost âTeddy.â Heâd crafted it by stuffing an old duffel bag with pillow foam, drawing shaky lines for eyes and a smile, kindly borrowing Helenâs supplies.
Sally had been distracted, and it was like taking candy from a kidâ literally.
At night, the nurses organized their shifts. Jane always had to be around since the interns were inexperienced, but she stayed by Sallyâs side most of the time, patrolling the rooms every hour and a half or so. Meanwhile, the other nurses patrolled different wings and switched shifts every two hours.
Jeff had been careful to time his moveâ walking past one nurse patrolling the corridor separating the two main wings of the hospital before sneaking into the corridor where your room was located.
It was far quieter than where he stayed in the facility, and the patrolling nurse had made the grave mistake of resting in the nurseâs office. Jeff looked at the young man, one heâd never seen before, and assessed that he mustâve been one of the new staff members.
Lucky bastard.
He decided to shoot his shotâ especially since it was his only chance, reallyâ and he could bet the poor nurse still didnât clearly know which patient belonged to which section of the hospital.
He walked in, tapping the manâs shoulder.
The nurse shivered and jolted upright âWhat?! How did you get in hereâ ?!â
âOh no, Iâm sorry. Itâs just⊠Iâve been having trouble sleeping, and chamomile usually helps. I donât have any spare coins, so I was wondering if you might be kind enough to lend me some?â
âUh⊠uh, sureâ.
The still half-dazed nurse frantically fumbled in his pockets, snatching out a handful of coins and pressing them into Jeffâs palm.
âThank youâ Jeff lifted an eyebrow as he counted the coins. âSeems to be more than I need. May I get something for you too?â
The carefully crafted kind and reassuring smile Jeff offered the oblivious nurse was almost convincing.
âAah⊠a coffee. Yeah, I definitely need one. These damn night shiftsâŠâ
âCoffee it isâ.
He slipped out of the room, fumbling with the drinks machine as heâd promisedâ though heâd added a little surprise to the nurseâs cup, sliding a few of the sedative capsules into the dark brew. They sank unnoticed.
He returned and handed the nurse the cup, which the man drank obediently, greedily.
Jeff sipped his own drink, his eyes never leaving the manâs frame. Those tranquilizers were practically horse-sizedâ heavy, potent. Given the dosage heâd served, their effect would be multiplied by three, working extremely fast too.
As heâd predicted, it took roughly three minutes for the nurseâs eyes to glaze over. He muttered something incoherent before gently laying his head on the coffee table in front of him, head lolled to the side.
âHave a nice sleepâ.
Jeff quickly ran outâ not before pocketing some of the poor manâs money-- around $80, decent enough for now.
He knocked on the familiar door of your room, his breath heavy as you opened it. He lunged in the moment you did, giggling manically as he took your face and kissed you.
Youâd surely not expected that. You stood frozen as he began spinning you around.
âWeâre doing this. Fucking finally
Nurseâs knocked out cold. Are you ready?â
âNow?â you muttered.
He looked up at you as if youâd just said the weirdest thing heâd ever heard. His grin vanished, replaced by a sudden, serious expression âYeah? I thought we were clearâ.
âNoâ yeah, we are. Iâm sorry. Iâm just⊠wowâ You giggled nervously. âI canât believe it. Iâ â
âLetâs just go, huh?â He kissed you again before heading out, not giving you any more time to protest.
The corridor was still dimly lit and quiet.
âAight, Iâm gonna borrow something else from our little friend real quick. You wait for me here, okay?â
You nodded as he snuck back into the nurseâs office, emerging with a triumphant clink of metal.
âThese will pave our way outta here, câmon, babyâ
He took your hand and led you to a back doorâ a side entrance usually reserved for staff during shift changes; The most important thing, it was much less patrolled than any other entrance.
Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you slid down the marble staircase leading to the backyard. A ton of surveillance cameras lined the path, and you knew it was only a matter of minutes before someone from security alerted the guards.
Still, before opening the door that led outside, you stopped Jeff in his tracks. Adrenaline surged through you as you kissed himâ right there, where anyone couldâve seen. You werenât sure whyâ a symbol, some reckless, unnecessary stupidityâ but it felt needed.
âSo eager. Turned on just now?â He grimaced, squeezing your hand âLetâs focus on the goal, huh? Iâll fix you later. I promiseâ
The night air was crisp and chilly as he scanned the area, immediately pointing towards the parking lot.
âNowâs the most important part, okay? We gotta be careful. Weâll sneak all the way thereâŠâ He gestured toward the security guard booth managing the parking lot entrance âAnd get the fuck out, huh?â
âLike in the moviesâ
âYeah. Like in the moviesâ
You crouched low, following him as he hid in the thick bushes scattered across the yard. You could already see some guards hurrying inside, seemingly called for something urgentâ only fueling your excitement further.
âWe gotta hurry" he asserted.
Finally, you reached the security boothâ and of course, it was locked. However, Jeff managed to break the glass of its small windows to make enough space to crawl inside.
âIâll see if any carâs unlocked, okay? You open the gate in the meantimeâ
You obeyed, pulling a rusty, heavy lever that caused the parking lotâs heavy door to groan open with a terrible, echoing roar.
Then, suddenly, you felt someone grab you by the throat.
It was a hefty, bearded manâ the security guard, no doubt. His eyes burned with fury, spit flying as he snarled at you.
âAh, ah! Here you are, fucking piece of shit. Whereâs your friend?â
You did not respond; Instead, you managed to punch him in the face. His head rolled to the sideâ only angering him more. He was trained for this, and you knew you didnât stand a chance if he decided to put up a fight.
âYa think youâre so smart and strong, huh? Just wait till you rats get fried in the electric chairâ â
You werenât sure how it all happened. All you knew was one moment, he was alive. The next, he wasnât.
You blinked, closing your eyes as warmth splashed across your faceâ splatters of familiar crimson painting everything. When you reopened them, you saw the guard lying limp and cold, a carcass drained of all its heat. His throat was slit open, a crimson well in the drought of the night. Behind him stood Jeff, almost- and surprisingly- entirely clean, holding a shard of glass as stained as the pool forming behind the body.
The man still clutched at his neck, gagging and bubbling as he triedâ and failedâ to stay alive.
Jeff seemed serene. He tossed the glass piece somewhere in a corner of the booth and pointed ahead.
âSuch a nasty pig. Has nobody ever told him you need empathy to work in a place like this? Well, now I get why heâs not a doctor. Come onâ
He climbed out, and you followed.
You knew Jeff. You knew what heâd done in the past. You knew what youâd done as well. Youâd always hated violence, the shit youâd seen-- ironic, yeah. That was part of why youâd struggled to like him at first. Youâd known his violence would surface eventually. Youâd been sure it would kill that weird attraction youâd started to feel toward him.
But now, as you snuck out into the woods surrounding the hospital, you werenât so sure.
Heâd proven how easy it was for himâ murdering a man or stepping on an ant barely different in his eyes. Yet all you felt was⊠well, nothing, to be fair. You felt numb. Unfazed. His violence hadnât frightened you. It hadnât thrown you off. If you were honest with yourself, it only sent a jolt of shock down your spineâ a thrill racing through your body, something warm pooling in your limbs, in your chest, in your thighs.
Heâd defended you.
After all, it was somewhat⊠romantic. The most protection and care anyone had ever shown you, anyway.
Youâd always had a talent for morphing into whatever people needed, becoming the perfect silhouette of whichever place you found yourself in. Maybe it was happening now, too. Maybe you were truly becoming his mirror image. His perfect match.
â
Note: Yeah i attempted to give Slenderman a name as human as possble, hope someone caught that lmaoo
Also Oldbag for Sally because i've been playing ace attorney and it was stuck in my mind
STELAR AS PER USUAL! You did end things in a very curious place EHEM... You wouldn't happen to want to continue that would you? (Of course feel free to deny! Not everyone likes to write that kind of thing aha- but if you do want to... đ)
CHUCKLING happy you enjoyed !!
I KNOW I KNOW
I sure want to work on that, as in writing more suggestive stuff for the future but Iâm just not sure Iâd do an even remotely decent job as for now like, Iâm not sure đ„Č so I def plan on âexpandingâ my creative horizons for the future but I think itâll have to wait a bitt đââïž
I LOVE HOW U WROTE THAT SO MUCHHHH OH MY GODDDD the way you characterize antonio js SOO GOOD!!!! I love where u went with jt and everything oh my fodddhdh thank you for feedinf me againâŠ.. im never gonna be normal abt this EVERRRR thank you for hearing me out on my nonsensical ramblings on antoniođđđđâ€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž-đ»
GLAD U LIKE IT AND IM ALWAYS WILLING TO LISTEN TO PEOPLE RAMBLE ABOUT WHAT THEY LOVE CAUSE THATS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE IN THE END, ISNT IT?
(Ada and Emil on my tomodachi island cause I didnât have any other reaction pic)
Hey hey heyđđ how would antonio react to him being spoiled ohhh,, apart of me feels like he would love it and the attention (his npd ahhhhh)but another part of me feels like he woukd get suspicious of it because of his fear of people only âtreating him rightâ as a way to get his trust and then use him like the royal family did aghahwha!2! Idk if im wording this right but if ykyk sorry i think about this alot i like thinking about antonio time to time ⊠have a good day / night !! -đ»
Sorry for goinf on alittle ramble abt antonio i kinda like him I GUESS
ââ᧠Spoil you rotten᧠ââ
Hey hey Antonio anon! Hope youâre well :) I feel like Iâve gone a tiiiny bit out of prompt here like, itâs here but also free interpretation I guess but I hope you can enjoy as usual ^^ Also fun fact for some reason I always wanted to make Antonio from southern Italy ( a âterroneâ like me I guess, have some representation đ) but due to his fav dish- Lambrusco- I leaned more for the north in the end đđ»
tw: nothing much here tbh just insecurity and a little jealousy on Antonioâs part! Also non-manor setting, more like a contemporary AU in this ^^ (also somewhat connected this with my last ask tho they were separate but ugahsj)
Antonio was most definitely familiar with being treated what one would call rightâ or rather, being surrounded by wealth and prosperity, reaching what most people only dreamt about. Once you figure out which way to go, which buttons to press to pave your way toward something better- hence luxurious courts and wealthy families appreciating your hard-worked compositions to flaunt that wealth before their guests at lavish parties- you get sucked into such a complex network until you begin to assimilate parts of it, and thus become a part of it yourself.
He liked a shiny, full life, one filled with comforts and excessâ yet he knew better than to take it for granted. Give and receive; That was the core of it. Give and receive. A mechanism, methodical and preciseâ and the moment something got in the way, the moment something stopped, it all halted. So how much did it truly matter in the end?
Antonio was overall practical, never letting such moral matters get in his way. You could've said he was frugal with his feelings, focused on what truly mattered to him, and so he'd always agreed to this unspoken arrangement with his patrons. He was quite practical in that regard, yes, though that didn't mean he never thought about it. About all the implications of that conditional appreciation, forever bound to circumstances and expectations.
He knew better than to let it all go. Still, he couldn't lieâ it felt heavy sometimes, having to keep up the act, constantly living up to an image, a standard he'd helped create.
But that was what he was. Before being a man, he was an artist, and that's what it was like for artists. It wasn't enough to perform upon a stage; One created a performance out of one's own existence. He knew it, and it was what he'd always dreamt ofâ what he'd sacrificed his humanity for.
Ever since you'd stepped into his life, that was something you'd noticed about him rather quickly: His carefully crafted manners, his curated way of speaking. True, giving up his soul to a demonic entity had certainly left its traces. He was undeniably different from the man he'd once been, harder to keep himself under control at times. Yet his core still preserved the fragments of who he used to be, and those were the pieces he had revealed to you.
He was certainly a charming man, despite being painfully aware of how ratherâŠpeculiar he could come across. Yet there was always something stiff about him, something fabricated.
He'd taken quite a liking to youâ or else he wouldn't have bothered getting this close. Still, it was as though he was constantly on guard, and sometimes it made being with him difficult.
You weren't particularly closed off, nor stingy when it came to showing the one you loved just how much you cared for him. You often reminded him through praises, little gifts, and trinkets you'd stumble across that made you think of him. You paid attention to everything he said, especially whenever he spoke about his remaining memories: his life before, all the elegant Italian courts and theatres he'd performed in and, of course, the fuzzy recollections of his childhood. The foods he used to love, traditions from his little village, old proverbs, and whatever else he happened to blurt out.
You took careful mental notes of it all and showered him with little reminders of those distant, long-gone days, before it all became harder.
You attempted traditional recipes from northern Italy, crafted keychains and little trinkets that reminded him of where he'd once lived. He couldn't deny itâ he adored every single one of them.
Even if he didn't necessarily show it much- such thing happening seldomly , given how theatrical he could be- he always felt a little tingle of excitement, something warm and unfamiliar pooling within his chest.
He loved being loved. More specifically, he craved that sense of admiration and utter devotion that so often accompanied love.
Whenever you did something for him, showered him with attention, spoiled him rotten in whatever little ways you could, he felt that same warmth spread through him again, accompanied by the overwhelming urge to pull you closer and closer, fusing you with himself.
Yet, at the very same time, another voice whispered inside his head.
Like flashes, whenever he felt himself opening up just a little more, finally considering saying I love you back aloud, allowing himself to grow closer, he'd see it all over againâ the years when he'd become little more than a plaything for wealthy nobles and their little cliques.
Appreciationâ of any kindâ was never given so freely.
It never came without a price.
People always expected something in return.
He couldn't help but wonder when the day would come that you'd finally drop the act and ask for something back. Maybe you already had.
Or perhaps you'd simply grow bored, find somethingâ or someoneâ new, and discard him altogether.
That thought lingered constantly in the back of his mind, making him unpredictable, like a spring wound so tightly it threatened to snap. Sometimes he'd cling to you, all soft with grand speeches and sweet words. Then there were times he'd suddenly pull away, going as far as avoiding you entirely, dismissing you without any explanation.
But then he'd come back, acting as though nothing had happened.
These last few days in particular, you'd noticed he'd pulled back quite a bit and as usual, you couldn't figure out why. It didn't seem to you as though there had been any sort of argumentâ or anything elseâ that could've caused him to distance himself. So of course, you assumed it was your fault. Something you'd done, perhaps. Or something you'd said.
Trying to make amends for whatever you'd allegedly done, you spent days searching for his favorite wine: Lambruscoâ specifically the one from Sorbara, slightly fruity, sweet, with just the right hint of acidity. Somehow, it reminded you of him. You'd also pestered a good friend of yours- Luchino- until he finally agreed to teach you some traditional dishes and pastries. Given the sheer level of dedication you had for Antonio, you spent every spare moment of an entire week practicing until you managed to make everything as close to perfect as you possibly could.
Now there was just one littleâ well, rather fundamentalâ problem: actually getting Antonio to come over.
He'd been even more distant than usual.
Well... actually, you'd been quite occupied yourself andâ Fuck this! Had you somehow made things even worse?
You'd sent him message after message, each one met with nothing but silence. Read, yet never answered. Eventually, you'd given up trying to communicate altogether and instead opted to send him a simple invitation.
âYou seem mad, idk what I did but I didn't mean to hurt you :( If you want, I'd like to make it up to you. Come to my house at 20:00?â
Once again, he'd read it.
Once again, he hadn't replied.
You'd all but abandoned hope, pacing back and forth across your living room, when at last your doorbell rang.
A persistent chime, lingering just a little longer than the brief press of a normal visitor.
That alone was enough to give him away.
It could only be your Antonio.
Your suspicion was confirmed the moment you opened the door, revealing the familiar, wild-haired, slender figure standing before you.
"Finally made space for me?"
He brushed past you before you could even answer, making himself right at home as he wandered into your living room.
"Oh? Is this all for me...?" He suddenly stopped when he looked down at a nice prepared dining table, turning to you almost inquisitive.
"Yes. Yes, it is. I..." You hurried after him "I'm sorry if I seemed distant this past week, but after our date last week, you suddenly pulled away from me and I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong. Was it because I paid for both of us? I didn't mean to offend youâ â
"What?" A laugh escaped him "Do you really think I'd get pissed over something so trivial? Wow... as much as I love you, these are the moments that make me wonder whether you know me at allâ.
He laughed again as he cupped your frowning face between his hands âYou know I can certainly provide for myself, but as scandalous as it might seem to some, you also know a man like me doesn't mind being utterly pampered by his darling, hm?" His bony thumb traced lazily along your chin.
"The real question here" he continued "is why you started disappearing on me all week. Always busy... yet I happened..."
He pretended to think for a moment âI happened to notice a certain man- your friend, I presume- getting quite a generous amount of your time, saw him come to your house when I was passing by. You seemed rather free then... mh?"
"Ohâ oh, no. No, there's been a huge misunderstanding. Luchino's my Italian friend and..."
"Ah, amico. A fellow compatriot. I'm guessing he's just as passionate... just as charming as all of us, Italiansâ He pinched your chin with a grin.
"No, Antonio, I'm serious. He..." You sighed "Okay. This is going to sound really dumbâ Walking over to the fridge, you carefully retrieved your prized creation.
"Luchino helped me improve my admittedly not-so-perfect baking skills. He suggested desserts you might like, and I opted for thisâ you placed a small white plate before him. Resting upon it was a silky, delicate panna cotta crowned with fresh raspberries. Around the rim of the plate, you'd painstakingly decorated little chocolate music notes.
"It might not be the perfect pairing with something sweetâ I'm not sureâ but..." You reached for the bottle beside it "I also somehow managed to find your favorite wineâAntonio stared.
"My..." His voice came out barely above a whisper "My sweet Lambrusco... and panna cottaâ.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"How long has it been since I last had this...?" His eyes softened "Extraordinary, amore."
He looked back at you "And you did all of this... just for me?"
"I figured it was only fair... since I thought i had hurt youâ.
His smile faltered "Oh, angelo mio... noâ.
He stepped closer.
"No. I'm just a selfish bastard, thatâs what I amâ His hands found your waist "And I don't deserve youâ.
He kissed you like a madman, like someone starving who'd been shown a banquet for the first time in years.
"I'm a damned idiotâ.
He finally pulled away just enough for you to breathe "A coward, tooâ.
He rested his forehead against yours.
"I had become so consumed by my own paranoia that I couldn't see anything clearly anymore. I let my own filthy thoughts blind meâ.
He exhaled shakily "It's just...hard sometimes, you see."
"Mh?"
"It's ridiculous saying it out loud. Especially nowâ A bitter laugh escaped him "But it's always been like thisâ.
He looked away. "Love has always come with a priceâ.
He swallowed "I can see it nowâ clearer than everâ that you'd never be like that. Not under any circumstances, right?â His fingers tightened ever so slightly around your waist.
You nodded, all you could do before he resumed talking.
"But that ugly part of me... that parasitic demon festering inside me... it never lets goâ His shoulders trembled "And whenever those thoughts begin piling up..."
He sighed, a scoff âI can't think straight anymore. I become blinded by my own evilâ.
âOh, AntonioâŠno. Of course I would never be as cruel as whoever hurt you in the past. I love you so much, and it breaks my heart to know that you feel like you canât fully accept or enjoy all the ways I try to show you how deeply I cherish youâ.
He held you by the waist, pulling you a little closer against him.
âI know, amore. I donât want to hurt you⊠but I thought I should tell you whatâs been weighing on me. Whenever weâre together, I feel like a better man. But then it all becomes too much, too overwhelming, and I feel this instinct to pull away and protect myself.
âWhat if they leave?ââWhat if they realize theyâve found someone better, looking past the little show you put on?â
Those little voices keep playing in my head, tormenting me until I feel like the only thing I can do is retreat. But I do love you. I love you so much that Iâd rather keep hurting myself again and again than ever let you goâ.
âMy dear, dearest AntonioâŠI donât want you to suffer. Iâm here, okay? Iâm not going anywhere. Let me show you that youâre safe with meâ you held his hand over your chest to mark your words.
âYou donât have to perform for me, and you donât have to prove that youâre worthy of my love. You already are. You can rest with me, baby, okay? You can let yourself be cared for. Let me spoil you and remind you just how loved you are, Iâve prepared much more for you tonightâ.
Celebrating Matthias' birthday by making him a cake and throwing him a private (just him and reader) party bc he's a cutie and deserves to know all attention is on him, not Louis đââïžđââïž
đđââË Birthday boy
Super late with this request butâŠhappy late bday, I guess! :D Dude why do the majority of parents in Idv suck so bad like, do they know having kids is not mandatory đ
Tw: none I think this is overall kinda sweet ^^ just brief mentions of Matthiasâ backstory, sliiightly suggestive at the end and as usual we like to distort some of the canon stuff in this household for shit and giggles cause thatâs the best part of writing fanfics
May 25th.
Matthias' twenty-fourth birthday. A day like any other, not worth celebrating in the slightestâ that's what he'd always thought, or rather, what he'd always been taught to think. A day like any other, yes.
One year older, but it was simply the natural course of life. Something biological, the normal cycle everyone went through- funny enough since he barely felt human anymore- why bother with pointless celebrations? He'd never been fit for the spotlight anyway. Even during his childhood, such occasions had always been overlooked. He was more the kind of person to just... exist. Simply be there.
He was never meant to be cherished, and quite frankly, birthdays made him sad.
Every year, he held onto the faintest flicker of hope that next time would be differentâ that someone would remember and, just once, look at him with affection and words of genuine praise.
But of course, one could only hope.
His wishes were never granted, and he always ended up alone after yet another performance, as though it truly was just another ordinary day, while his father praised Louis' scenic presence behind the velvety curtains of the stage.
Like any other day, Matthias dragged himself into his tiny room, hoping to shut the world out with some restâ except, unlike any other day, his birthday stung a little more.
The sun's rays stretched well into the late evening, signaling spring's final farewell before welcoming yet another warm summer. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers and fresh grassâ everything so familiar, so cyclical, like a vile mockery. A reminder of how little had changed as the years passed.
Like any other day, but it hurt a little more.
He tried to close his eyes, but it was no use. It was like putting a bandage over an open, bleeding wound. He hated it.
Hated that day because it was undeniable, crystal-clear proof of how little he mattered- how small and insignificant his presence had always been made to feel.
Eventually, he'd come to despise birthdays altogether, avoiding telling anyone when his birthday was. There was no point anyway, and at least then he could justify the lack of attention.
People don't know. People don't care. It all sounded the same.
You were quick to realize he wasn't particularly fond of his birthday, considering how little he thought of himself. In fact, he never even told you when he was bornâ you had to find out on your own.
One afternoon, while the two of you sat together looking through old papers scattered across his bed- Matthias resting his head in your lap as you asked about his previous work- you came across a letter dated the twenty-fifth of May.
It seemed to be from an old family friend.
He tried to brush it off, but quickly gave up and eventually admitted it had been sent on his birthday, back when he was youngerâ just before Louis had been given to him.
"They said I was talented, but lacked a certain... vitality, I suppose. They gave me Louis. There was something in him that seemed to captivate my father almost immediately... I still wonder whether he was really a gift for me, or more so for himself. I've been cursed ever sinceâ.
You knew he didn't like celebrating. More than anything, birthdays only seemed to stress him.
Still, it didn't feel right. The thought of letting the day pass in silence, anonymous as though it meant absolutely nothing, felt incomprehensible to you. For that, you decided to throw him a small birthday celebration.
You didn't want to push him too far out of his comfort zone, so you kept everything simple and intimateâ just the two of you.
Just you and him, making sure Louis was out of the way by renting a small apartment for the night, you could finally get everything ready.
You spent hours preparing all his favorite dishes from back homeâ especially the ones he often reminisced about from childhood. You bought a cake from the finest bakery in townâ you would've baked one yourself, but realistically, cooking everything else had already taken long enough.
Then came the gift.
You remembered him mentioning a particular book he'd always wanted to read and, luckily enough, you managed to find it: an old, slightly yellowed copy that you carefully wrapped in golden paper. Between its pages, you tucked a dried dark purple lilac.
Love, devotion, renewal.
A simple vow of your affection for him. A symbol of how much he meant to you as your first true love, and how deeply you hoped to become a turning point in his lifeâ to show him how precious he was, despite spending so many years blinded by the endless praise everyone lavished upon Louis.
Then you waited. You'd told him where to meet you, giving him all the information he needed to find the apartment. Naturally, he'd questioned you relentlessly, trying to make you reveal whatever you were planning, but you refused to budge.
You were practically about to implode with anticipation when you finally heard a knock at the door. Jumping to your feet, hands trembling with excitement, you hurried over. Taking one last deep breath, you opened the door.
Before he could say anything, you kissed him, leaving him momentarily stunned just long enough to gently cover his eyes. Closing the door behind him, you carefully guided him toward the dining table.
"Promise you won't get mad... or anything, okay?"
"Why... why would I get mad?"
Before he could say anything else, you slowly removed your hands.
He blinked. The table stood before him, bathed in the warm glow of golden candles, their flickering flames illuminating all the food you'd prepared. A neatly wrapped gift rested on a chair beside a letter you'd written, while balloons and small rosettes decorated the table and chairs.
"This..."
"I know you don't like celebrating your birthday, but you're special to me, Matthias. I just wanted to show you that. I wanted you to know how important you are to me, babyâ You smiled tenderly"Happy birthdayâ.
He remained silent for several long seconds.
You barely had time to pick up the gift and give it to him directly before a single tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. And another.
It was strange.
He wore that same familiar expressionâ caught somewhere between sadness and quiet composureâ yet the tears simply wouldn't stop as he stared ahead with distant eyes.
"I've never... I've never had a proper birthday celebration beforeâ.
"Well" you smiled gently "I thought it was about time you didâ.
"I don't understand why... why you did all this for me?â
"Becauseâ You stepped closer, taking one of his hands while gently brushing away a tear with the other "I cherish you, dear. You're so, so special to me. I know it's hard for you to believe that, but it's true. And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, then I gladly willâ.
His fingers tightened around yours before he leaned in to kiss you.
It was sweet, tender and desperate all at once.
Matthias let go of your hand only to cradle your face between both palms, his lips searching for yours again and again with a passion and urgency you'd never seen from him before.
"I love youâ he whispered âI love youâ
He clung to you as though his life depended on it, setting aside every trace of his usual anxiety and shyness.
"I love you too, babyâ.
"I really doâ.
He appreciated everythingâ from the food to the cake, from the gift to the letter.
After dinner, the two of you curled up together in bed, wrapped in each other's arms until Matthias finally spoke, voicing a problem you knew had been bugging him all evening long.
"...Where... where's Louis?"
"He doesn't matter right nowâ.
"Butâ "
"It's your dayâ.
You gently brushed his hair back âStop worrying about things that don't matter tonight, okay? Right now, it's just you and me. The rest can waitâ.
He looked genuinely taken aback, but eventually nodded, slowly.
"I've never had anyone dismiss Louis like that before. It's... strange. My parents never missed an opportunity to tell me how much they wished I were more like him. More cheerful. More polishedâ.
"Well..." You stared the ceiling above, absentmindedly smoothing down his unruly hair.
"I like your wild hair, and this little sad pout of yoursâ your fingers traced his bottom lip.
You rested your head against his chest.
"I like how careful you are. How attentive. How sweet you are with me. You show me a side of yourself that hardly anyone else gets to seeâ.
You couldnât help but let out a proud smile against him.
"It makes me feel incredibly luckyâ.
"Really?"
"Mhm."
You looked up at him with a grin.
"And honestly? Louis looks kind of creepy. Thereâs just something in himâŠgives me the chillsâ.
For a brief moment, Matthias looked like he wanted to object. Instead, a raspy, breathless laugh escaped his lips.
"I guess he isâ.
"So..." You nudged him gently "That's enough about Louisâ.
You grinned yet again, mischievously "We have the whole night ahead of usâ.
Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead "Let me show you just how much I adore you, hm?"
I'm going to take Joker, Matty, and or Andrew out for a fancy dinner (or cook it myself idk) and spoil them to death and pay for everything because they deserve it and I love them
thoughts? (and If I cook also prayers) (I'm not a great chef but it'll be made with love </3)
My treat ââ§Â°đČÖŒđą
tw: none, for once itâs all quite normal đââïž just Andrew being a bit insecure and stuff thatâs probably non-canon as usual but we know the drill around here guys
Joker had never gone out for dinner, let alone had someone willingly take him out for one.
He'd always thought it was a luxury, something far beyond his reach.
Something made for the people who came to watch the circus' performances, perhaps. Those well-dressed individuals wandering through pebbled streets with handcrafted canes and silk parasols. Surely, such privileges weren't meant for someone like him.
So when you'd asked him out, it came as a shock.
He'd never expected anyone to want to be in his presence, let alone treat him to something as generous as a fancy dinner.
You'd taken quite a liking to the sad clown, coming to the circus often ever since it had arrived in your city. Your face had become familiar among the crowd, something he'd grown accustomed to seeingâ something he'd even found himself searching for.
You'd seen the same show what... ten, twenty times already?
It was the only time you could get to see him, anyway. The performers weren't really allowed to go out oftenâ more so, they simply didn't have the timeâ so you had to adapt.
You'd gotten quite lucky, though. Everyone had finally been given a day of rest after a particularly intense performance- not having shows programmed- and you'd decided you couldn't let that opportunity slip away.
When you'd asked him to dine out with you, he'd refused.
He didn't want to seem ungrateful or snobbishâ of course not! It was the complete opposite. He couldn't take advantage of your kindness that way. It didn't feel right.
You'd insisted, though. Kept insisting until he had no other choice but to give in.
You'd been delighted by his (forced) acceptance, making sure to remember exactly what he liked and disliked.
Having him meet you at some bright, shining restaurant downtown had already been overwhelming enough. When he arrived, he couldn't believe his eyes.
He looked around, completely lost, convinced he'd gone to the wrong address until he saw you waving at him.
Oh.
Oh, no.
He tried stepping back once more, insisting he had some last-minute thing he really, really had to do...
Too bad you were just as stubborn.
Thatâs how he ended up sitting across from you, velvet chairs beneath his tense, awkward frame. His hands remained tightly clasped in his lap as he struggled to maintain eye contact.
You didn't seem bothered by his discomfort, though, doing your best to ease the situation as naturally as possible.
You praised his performancesâ something he didn't receive often.
To others, it was simply a duty. Something expected of him. And, quite frankly, he'd always felt like he was somehow lacking. Behind. Lesser compared to the others.
An ugly duck among proud, beautiful swans.
But for once, he decided to try and let those thoughts go.
He smiled as he thanked you, feeling just a little calmer.
As if carefully peeling away pieces of an eggshell, he slowly began opening up.
Probably more than he'd have liked.
He felt like an idiot, but what could he do? For once, someone was being kind to him, and suddenly everything he'd spent years suppressing began spilling out.
You didn't look at him with pity or speak to him with condescension.
Instead, you made him feel like a normal person. Actually, like a person at all.
And that alone was a luxury he'd rarely been given.
Oh, and don't even get him started on the dishes when the waiter arrived.
His eyes immediately slid to the cheapest options on the menu, already preparing to order regardless of his actual preferences before you turned to him.
You asked if he liked certain dishes.
Of course he did, since youâd remembered exactly what he'd told you before.
He panicked.
He should've said no. He should've explained that he couldn't afford such delicacies. Yet he nodded almost mechanically, certain he'd heard his stomach betray him with an embarrassingly loud growl.
"Would you like dessert too? I know you like ice cream, and there's this wonderful homemade vanilla flavor I'm sure you'll enjoy."
You spoke more to the waiter than to him, and the man simply nodded before walking away.
You were quick to notice how he'd tensed up again. Gently, you placed your hand over his on the table, calming his nervous movements.
"Hey. It's my treat, alright? You deserve something niceâ.
"Oh, absolutely not".
"Look, I just don't understand why some of your... colleagues, right? Why some of them go around having things thrown at them, receiving fancy dinners and flowers, while you don't get treated the same. I think you're far more interesting than most of them anywayâ.
He couldn't help but giggle alongside you.
"Your words flatter meâ.
"I'm serious! What a shame that you don't recognize your own talentâ.
"There are simply performers more talented than me, I suppose. Or at least, that's what the public thinks. Personal opinions, right? And what's a performer without their audience?"
"Well, personal opinions should stay personal for that reason. Sometimes theyâre wrong, and I think this is a great example of thatâ.
He hadn't eaten so well, nor felt so comfortable, in a very long time.
Your presence was soothing. It came as something easy, something natural.
You made him feel seen.
And you stayed true to your word, paying for both before the two of you stepped back into the warm night air outside the restaurant.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, again, for everything. You really didn't have toâ.
"Oh, the pleasure is all mine. Take it as something like what they did in Ancient Rome, you know? Patrons supporting artists. I'm simply expressing my very personal appreciation for your artâ.
"I really want to return the favor somedayâ.
"I'm serious, you don't have toâ"
"No, I... I want to. Reallyâ.
He seemed to overthink for a moment before looking back up at you.
"Uh, it's unfortunate that the circus will be moving soon, but... if there's a chance you can come sometime, we'll be heading north..."
"Are you saying you want to meet me again?" you asked with a chuckle.
"No! I meanâit's just... the time I'll pay you backâ.
"I already told you, you don't have to. But if you insist, I'll gladly take your offer to see you again. Deal?"
"...Deal."
đȘ” Matthias
You really wanted to do something nice for him.
A surprise.
You were sure he wouldn't expect you to carefully search for his favorite dishes, practice over and over again, and try to make them as close to perfect as you could.
Sure, you were nowhere near an expert chef, but trying never hurt anyone, right?
You wanted to make something special for him. Something that would give him a warm, comforting moment amidst the cruelty of the manor.
Something that could bring back flavors from home.
Matthias' life had been far from comforting, that much was true. But maybe you could try to change that.
Not erase the past, of course. You could never do that.
But perhaps those familiar flavors he'd loved and recognized his entire life could become attached to something else. Something gentler. Something happier.
Every bite, every sip, could carry a sweeter memory.
So you prepared everything carefully, making sure nothing slipped your attention.
You found an old table with a couple of chairs in a storage room inside the greenhouse. It was summer, warm enough to dine outside, so you cleaned everything thoroughly and set the table with a crisp white cloth, an electrically lit lantern placed neatly at the center.
You managed to get pork meat, roasting it with cabbage and some messy-looking dumplings on the side.
For dessert, you prepared his favorite: chimney cake ice cream.
You also remembered how often he'd talked about a drink he used to enjoy.
Bain-Marie PĂĄlinka.
Oh, was it harder than you'd expected.
Heating the mashed fruits carefully until they reached the right temperature, trying to distill everything properlyâ it stressed you out more than you'd anticipated.
Yet somehow, it seemed to work.
You poured the drink into an empty glass bottle, hoping it would be enough.
You told him to meet you at eight, saying you needed to talk to him before dinner.
You waited for him, standing there with your heart pounding like a teenager preparing for their first date.
When he finally walked over, he stopped immediately.
"What is this?.."
"Matthias! Hey, uh... yeah, I told you I needed to talk to you before dinner, right? Well, I wanted to ask if you liked whipped cream on your chimney cake or not, but I figured I'd just make one with it and one without, in case you felt like having bothâ"
"You did all of this... for me?"
"Mhmâ.
You nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious as you opened your arms toward the table between you.
"I know I'm not an expert, and I really, really hope I didn't butcher your favorite dishes, but I thought you mightâve liked thisâ.
"I have... I don't know what to sayâ.
He stepped closer.
Slowly, he reached for your hand.
His eyes lowered to where your hands were joined, almost as if he couldn't believe the warmth of the gesture.
Then, slowly, he looked back into your eyes.
"No one has ever done anything like thisâ.
His fingers were cold as they traced gently over the back of your hand.
"Nobody has ever taken the time to... try and do something nice for me. To try and get to know me in this wayâ.
He looked down at the table, taking in every detail before returning his gaze to you.
"Is it really all for me?"
He pointed toward himself, tilting his head slightly.
"Just... for me?"
You nodded once again and guided him toward the table.
You watched quietly as he tasted everything you'd prepared.
"You can tell me if you don't like it. My cooking skills are pretty basic, so you don't have to force yourself toâ "
"No, noâ His response was almost immediate.
"I like it."
"Really?"
"Mh mh."
He looked at you calmly.
"I'm serious. It's good, especially for your first time. I like this. You did wellâ.
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you. Really. I'm grateful for... having your love. Your time. Having you, though I donât say this often, I hope you know thisâ.
"Maybe next time we could do this together, if you want. So I can get even better. The chimney cake pastry was so difficultâ I had to remake it twiceâ.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly as he took another spoonful of whipped cream from his chimney cake.
"Mhm. Yes, we couldâ.
A pause.
"Though I have to admit, I'm not an expert chef myselfâ.
"Well, we could always make our own special interpretation of the original dishes, thenâ.
"Is that a nice way of saying we're going to make a mess?"
"Perhapsâ.
"Well, if we're doing this, you'll have to lead me. I'm probably worse than you, and considering everything you've prepared for me, I'd say you're actually quite goodâ.
"All responsibilities are already on me?"
"You suggested itâ.
đȘŠ Andrew
Andrew had been working so hard to keep you safe, to give you everything you needed.
Of course, living together meant everything was shared: expenses, responsibilities, and everything in between.
Yet he always tried to do something extra.
To work a little harder.
To save a little more.
Just in case you ever needed it.
You were truly a miracle in Andrew's eyes.
After everything he'd been through, after everything he'd lost, he still lived with the constant fear that one day you'd grow tired of him.
That eventually you'd realize you could do so much better.
That you'd leave.
He knew it was selfish of him, but he didn't want you to go.
He wanted you close, even if it meant working twice as much as he usually did.
He wanted to prove he could provide. That he could make you happy despite everything.
Of course, his efforts didn't go unnoticed.
You saw how he came home exhausted, his hands scarred and hardened, blisters covering his pale fingers.
He never asked for much.
He simply cleaned himself up, crawled into bed beside you, and allowed himself to relax as your hands brushed through his hair, gently scratching and caressing his scalp.
You'd tried countless times to convince him to slow down.
To tell him he didn't need to prove himself worthy of your love.
But he never wanted to listen, so you had to find another way to help him unwind.
He often talked about his memories, his past.
Though only the good parts, as if he was carefully keeping the painful ones outside the little bubble he created whenever the two of you stayed awake late at night, unable to sleep.
Stories about his mother, his village; All the small details he could still remember.
Even the food.
That was something he'd talk about often.
"BauernfrĂŒhstĂŒck," he'd said once âA... âfarmer's breakfastâ, I guess you could translate it that way. My mom used to make it a lot. It was common around the area where I lived, full of countryside and animals. It's a great way to save food and make sure nothing goes to wasteâ.
"Mhm. What's in it?"
"Potatoes, bacon, eggs... an onion too. I haven't eaten it in such a long timeâ.
He shifted slightly, resting his head against your chest.
"It's simple but good enoughâ.
"What else did you like to eat?"
"Mhm..."
He stopped to think for a moment.
"It might seem strange, but I'm fond of an onion soup I used to eat when I was sick. Zwiebelsuppe. My mom said it helped me become stronger, especially when winter came around. I
"An onion soup? Really?"
"It's... it's a matter of taste, of course. But you get used to it, after a while".
"Mhm. Well, I trust your judgment. Maybe if I ever get the chance to visit your village you can let me try itâ.
But you both knew how difficult that would be.
To Andrew, thinking about âhomeâ hurt and surely, the reputation he'd gained in his hometown because of his albinism wouldn't make returning any easier.
So, with his words lingering in your mind, you decided to do it yourself.
You would try to surprise him.
It took a while to search for the right recipes and gathered everything you needed to make both of his favorites.
You started in the late afternoon, early enough to have plenty of time before he returned home. Just in case something went wrong and you had to start over.
It was fairly easy, aside from the omelette turning slightly too brown on the edges.
And when he finally came home, finding you standing there proudly as a little "ta-da" escaped your lips, he stopped in disbelief.
"Is this?.."
"I know it's nothing like the original, but while we wait for you to bring me back to your country someday and let me taste the real thing... I thought you might appreciate the effortâ you smiled fondly, pointing the table below âEspecially since you said you haven't eaten these in such a long time. Thought it mightâve been a nice throwbackâ.
"Oh, thank you, dearâ.
His gloves came off as he walked toward you.
His hands gently held your cheeks before he leaned down and kissed you.
"This means so much. So, so muchâ His voice trembled on the last syllable.
"It's perfect. I know it's going to be perfect"
Another pause, a smile tugging the corners of his lips as he added "Thank you, angelâ.
"Try it first, at least, mh? So I can actually try to believe I'm a decent cookâ.
Needless to say, he loved it.
You weren't entirely sure whether he was being completely genuine or if he was simply overwhelmed by the gratitude he felt toward you.
Either way, seeing him so happy was enough.
"Tell me what you like, tooâ.
He looked at you curiously, flicking his gaze up as he gently pressed a napkin on his lips.
"I've talked about myself so much that I never asked what you enjoyâ.
Little extra:
Rest assured he WILL remember and bring that to you the next day, saying something that sounds like âIâve seen this (name of whatever you like) walking back home from work and CAUSALLY decided to bring this VERY SPECIFIC DISH to youâ.
âThe world is in pieces, drowning in the tragedy of human recklessness and greed.
Tobias Rogers is living his own personal tragedy. Losing his sister means youâre all he has left.
He just wants to keep you close, where he knows youâll be safe and secure. You, on the other hand, start feeling oppressed by his excess of zeal.
Maybe itâs all just overthinking in his mind. Nothing can happen to you, right? After all, youâre the main characters of that fragile, personal equilibrium you've builtâ.
Tw: character death, gender neutral reader, alternate universe, obviously non canon, hinted depression, probable medical inaccuracies, illnesses, this will be angst/hurt no comfort so brace yourself </3.
note:this was an itch Iâve had for some time, doing the whole apocalypse scenario. Also this was started in a very bad time for some stuff irl so I just wanted to get it out </3 This is going to be super short and honestly Iâve been feeling lobotomized for the past idk weeks, months? So itâs not the greatest work ever but hey, itâs all for self indulgence, exploring this dude more and shit and giggles
Five months.
151 days.
One hundred fifty-oneâ that was how long youâd been living in hell.
You could barely remember how it all started. Your mind struggled to piece together the absurdity of it all.
It was absurd. Completely unbelievable, in fact.
Your life had always been quiet, simple, and easy.
Living in your small town, taking the bus every morning at 6:30 sharp for college. Spending the time between lessons and lunch with your boyfriend and friends. The comfort of your bed when you finally rested at night.
It was never perfect for you. Often, you wasted all your time in bed, staring at the ceiling even when you had those rare moments of freedom from what routine required.
Time flew, and you felt guilt for wasting yet another day.
You knew it was pointless to be so harsh on yourself. Your mental health was surely not the best- hadn't been in a long time, which only contributed more to that endless spiral you often got sucked into.
You didnât do that on purpose, after all.
Yet, looking back now? Oh, how you would give anything to spend even just one more day in that life.
Routine had been what kept you going. You were not 14 anymore. You had responsibilities, people you couldnât give up so easilyâ Tobias. That was truly what kept you going.
You kept being functional, holding your personal burdens to yourself. You felt lost without it.
If weekends and free time were just a momentary loss from your anchor, something passing that wouldâve been over by Monday, your current situation felt like a death sentence. Final.
You werenât sure when this would all endâ or if there would even be an ending at all.
All you knew was that your stability had been taken, and it had taken a harsh toll on you.
The world had become unrecognizable. All those things that had once seemed so grantedâ food, clean waterâ were now a rarity.
You mourned your old life. There wasnât one day you passed without indulging in a bitter, mean nostalgia.
Couldnât stand the stench of those creatures. How nobodyâ not even those politicians who claimed to love their peopleâ seemed to do anything. They were leaving you to die. People were dying and turning into those violent, brain-dead creatures, and no one seemed to care.
You felt utterly hopeless and lost. And you were sure it was those rich who had caused it all to begin with.
The news had always stated, back when everything began, that some sort of biohazard had happened in a lab built not long time prior near your city.
Every single person you saw was saying not to worry, claiming it was just a minimal incident that would be easily contained.
The lab was linked to your college and used by students, so it was only natural that people trusted it. How could they not?
But then weird things started to happen.
Many shepherds and pastoralists began reporting their animals acting strangely.
At first, it was as if the animals were catatonicâ a newspaper statedâ but then they began to fall seemingly dead to the ground, weird liquids leaking from their mouths. The animals had started to smell rotten and then became aggressive. Feral.
The first case reported was that of a sheep trying to bite the pastor so hard the man stated he felt as if the animal was actually ripping his leg off.
But then things took a completely different turn.
A couple of weeks after the attack, the shepherd had started to feel sick.
Media and doctors tried to keep the general commotion low, stating it was probably some possible sickness due to the animalâs bite. Some common bacteria, perhaps.
Your boyfriendâs sister, Lyra, was actually one of the trainee students working at the lab at the time.
Sheâd always been skeptical, and you often discussed the case with her.
Tobias had always been quite pragmaticâ or rather, didnât want to add any more worries to himself. He dismissed you as a âconspiracy theoristâ and left the room, rolling his eyes whenever you two began ganging up on him for apparently ânot seeing what they were doing right before his eyesâ.
Yet Lyra saw more than anyone else could, and she saw with clarity.
One of the few things you could still recall clearly was one night, as sheâd called Toby in a shaky, urgent voice.
You were there with him right when it happened.
âWeâre being taken into quarantine. The shepherd guyâs gone mad. I donât even know what it is, Tobes! He seems like a corpse. We were called urgently, thought we lost him, but then he woke up and began attacking the staff in the operating roomâŠâ
âWhâwhat the fuck do you mean? Iâm coming right now, Lyra. Iâllâ fuck it! Iâll pick you up. I donât like this one bitâ.
âNO! Toby, please, for once in my life, you have to listen to me. Iâll kill you myselfâ and be very angryâ if you come here!â
Heâd stopped right on his tracks as Lyra sighed heavily on the other end of the phone.
âNobodyâs allowed in or out. The labâs completely shut⊠I donât know whatâs happening, and I donât know how this will evolveâŠâ
Lyraâs voice began glitching, the line on her side getting weaker.
ââ just as a precautionâ take some supplies⊠y/n tooâ are they with you?â â
Her voice was cut off by a loud, metallic sound before a series of beeps began to ring.
âF-fuck!â
After that, the problem got way too out of hand to be dismissed.
Everyone began talking about some yet-to-be-cleared infection that seemed to turn people into the fucking undead.
From what was reported, the infection spread through bites, saliva, and contact with blood. It seemed to especially attack the nervous system. It was capable, among other effects, of damaging and enlarging the brainâ so much as to rip the tissues apart, like a slice of meat. The damage was so terrifyingly vast that even the cranium grew deformed by the brainâs anomalous mass, making the infectedâs heads take on a sort of swollen, inflated appearance.
The amygdala and prefrontal cortexâs tissues were among the first areas affected, leading to impulsivity and aggression. Neurotransmitters and hormones became unbalanced. Synapses were disrupted.
Cognitive abilities were significantly reduced, alongside the senses. Sight was the one that suffered the most damage, as the infected were almost completely blind, only apparently seeing the world around them as shadows.
Smell was the only sense that seemed rather intact.
Speech was almost entirely compromised.
That was the last thing Lyra was able to tell you bothâthe last youâd heard from herâbefore there was a breach in the containment chamber where the shepherd had been detained.
Theyâd been able to study him in the isolated room until one researcher had gotten infected as well. Apparently, another viral strain was airborne, spreading alarmingly fast and wide, infecting masses of people all at once. Too bad it was discovered at the poor researcherâs expense.
After that, itâd been almost instant for the virus to spread. Lyra couldnât escape either.
There had been a count of the possible infected, a list spread around to see if anyone knew the people involved, and Lyra Rogers was estimated among them.
Sheâd gone radio silence ever since that last call, where sheâd informed you both of the new, still-secret information about the once newly infected man. Deep down, youâd known for a long time that something bad had happened to her.
To say Toby was in pieces wouldâve been an understatement. Heâd always been incredibly attached to his sister, and feeling so helpless, useless, and unable to rescue her from the hell sheâd been trapped in was fucking frustrating in ways heâd never thought heâd know.
âIâm going thereâ.
A pause.
He slowly turned to face you, grabbing his jacket. Youâd moved to his place ever since this all started. There were still no public cases reported, but your city was in a constant state of tensionâ a stillness in the air, similar to the thick pall you feel before a terrible, devastating storm.
âIâm going to rescue Lyra. I canâtâ I canât leave her there any longer. I need to know- to see sheâs okayâ.
âToby, you know she told you not toââ
âI know what she fucking said!â He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
âIâm sorry, I didnâtâ didnât mean to raise my voice. Itâs just⊠this is killing me. I need to see her. Thatâs all I need right nowâ.
You stared at him as if heâd spoken an alien language. His eyes were dulled out, exhausted, circled by purple-tinged tissue. He looked as if he hadnât slept in daysâ which, in fact, he hadnât. Ever since youâd stopped receiving anything but silence from Lyra, he couldnât function properly. Or rather, he functioned worse than he usually did.
You couldnât complain. He was lovingâ a bit harsh sometimes, yet he adored and cared for you a lot. But he was like a mine, ready to explode at the smallest thing. Impulsive. Moody. Unpredictable.
This had all grown worse after the incident.
âOkay⊠but Iâm coming with youâ.
You stated it as a fact, and he groaned.
âThe hell you areâ.
âI wonât let you go aloneâ
He frowned, a loud sigh escaping his lips.
âThereâs no use arguing, is there?â
And thatâs how it all became real.
Really fucking tangible.
Not that it wasnât before, but standing outside the labâs gates gave you both undeniable evidence of the hell humans had created.
Oh, how good we are at destroying ourselves with our very hands.
You sat in Tobyâs wrecked pickupâ a black Dodge Ram Lyra had bought from a friend a long time ago. Its windshield was the only thing separating you both from the hell spreading not far away. The labâs metal door had been destroyed, lying open on the ground with a loud thud. A hoard of those brainless-looking infected slowly crept out, spreading through the entrance yard toward the road outside.
Perfect fucking timing.
Tobyâs eyes widened. In a swift motion, he opened the storage compartment in front of you and took out a disposable surgical mask from a box heâd boughtâ one heâd definitely planned to use way before youâd expected.
The thought made your chest swirl with something dangerously close to hurt. What if you hadnât been there? What if you hadnât forced him to bring you along? He wouldâve gone alone. Heâd done one of his impulsive stunts and risk dyingâ
But it didnât happen, right? You were together after all.
Thatâs all that mattered now.
âToby! Wait, pleaseââ But it was no use. The wild-haired boy sprinted out of the car, and you simply jolted after him, taking a mask for yourself.
Your steps collided harshly with the semi-wet road as soft rain poured from the sky.
The only gentle thing granted to you in that situation, really.
The hoard of infected moved around without a real destination, spreading around you both.
Toby spotted an old pipe tube, moving to grab the rusty object as he shielded you.
âDonât g-give me that face,â he said, attempting to tranquilize you.
âIâve got my t-tetanus vaccine done, or whatever itâs called.â
His attempt at reassurance quickly faded as he shot a glance back at you, his expression turning seriousâfar more serious than youâd ever seen it.
âGo back inside the carâ
âNoâ If you really wanted to find Lyra, youâd do this together.
âYou can be so fucking s-stubborn. And annoyingâ
Though the infected couldnât see you clearly, they could still smell you. As you made your way toward the lab, a couple of the creatures lurched toward you, clumsy and unsteady.
Toby swung the pipe, smashing their faces to the ground with natural ease.
Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the bodies. The liquid leaking from their tissues was nothing like the vibrant crimson youâd expect from a normal person. Their blood looked far more like something rottenâ dark red mixed with an unnameable brown substance, diluted with a thick layer of transparent liquid, similar to raw egg whites.
The sounds those people (if there was still anything human in them, apart from their body) emitted were grotesque, beast-like.
Despite all those disturbing oddities, when the bodies lay limp on the ground, you couldnât help but feel a wave of guilt. They looked almost peaceful. Almost normal.
Those bodies had once hosted someoneâs child, friend, sibling, or lover.
And now they were nothing. Empty. Cold.
âWe killed people! Oh! Oh God! We just killed people!â
The admission escaped your lips as Toby frowned at you.
âThese are not people anymore,â he said. âThey wanted to hurt us. These âpeopleâ were l-long gone!â
Seeing your terrified face, Tobyâs eyes softened. He quickly gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to smash yet another infected in the head. Some blood droplets flew onto your mask.
âBesides⊠itâs on me. Iâm doing this. You did nothing wrong, okay?â His voice was firm. âBut I have to protect us both. I need to protect youâ.
You walked through the dilapidated, wrecked halls of the lab, careful with every step you took.
Toby stayed silent, occasionally muttering grunts or frustrated phrases like âWhere the hell is she?â
Your progress came to a sudden halt when you arrived in a packed room. A group of infected piled onto one another, stumbling and blocking the way forward.
âLetâs get out of hereâŠâ More and more of the contaminated began moving toward you âBefore we get surrounded completely.â
Toby swung the pipe left and right, painting the walls with corpses as he carved a path out of the lab.
âDamn it!â he hissed as you finally stepped outside, the infected turning toward you.
He threw the bloodied pipe to the ground and knelt, gripping his messy curls with both hands. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
âI feel sick. I canât do this. I canât do this⊠fuck. FUCK!â
You knelt beside him, not knowing what to say. What could you say to make this better? Nothing. This was all so vast, so far beyond your control. So fucking terrifying. It was out of your hands.
You knew Toby didnât like sympathy, so you stayed near himâ silent, a steady presence he could grab onto.
âTobs⊠we should go,â you said. âMaybe we can come backâ â
The words died in your throat as your gaze fell upon a figure slumped against the metallic fence surrounding the perimeter of the lab.
âOh myâ is thatâŠ?â
Tobyâs gaze immediately followed yours, and his eyes lit up.
âLyra!â
He jumped up, running toward her. You followed, retrieving the pipe heâd thrown away.
âLyra! Youâre here! I c-canât believeâ fuck! I canât believe youâre really here!â
He approached her slowly, crouching beside her.
Lyraâs head lolled to the side, her face half-hidden by overgrown blonde bangs.
âLetâs go backâ he spoke rapidly, enthusiastically, pupils dilating like a child whoâd finally found his favorite candy âIâve gathered enough resources for all three of usâŠâ
But when his hand moved to gently caress her cheek and turn her face toward him, all joy died in an instant.
Lyra was pale, scarred, and bloodied. Her eyes were blurry, as if cataracts had clouded them. A string of saliva bubbled from her mouth.
âLyra? Lyra?!â
Tobyâs voice grew urgent, his eyes wide, as the girl stared emptily ahead.
She mustâve still somehow recognized his voice, because she turned to face him.
âToâbâŠâ
Her voice was hoarse, as if pronouncing those three letters was enough to scar her throat.
âLyra⊠please! Yes itâs me, Tobs.â
âAâŠwayâŠâ
âAway?â His shaky words were interrupted as Lyra suddenly attacked her brother, pushing him to the ground as she tried to tear off his mask.
Compared to the others who had attacked you earlier, Lyraâs movements were jerkier, almost as if she was hesitant. Like a small part of her consciousness was still there, trying to fight whatever primal force was making her act like a rabid animal.
âLyra! PleaseâŠâ
Toby didnât fight. He simply tried to push her off himself. He didnât want to hurt Lyra. He did not, couldnât.
You didnât want to harm her either. Yet it was as if your body moved on its own. Before your brain could register what was happening, you took the pipe and hit Lyra in the face. Her body rolled off him.
Tobyâs eyes were wide as he looked up at you, then back at his sisterâs unmoving body.
The pipe fell from your hands.
âIâm⊠IâmâŠâ You couldnât even form a coherent sentence before Lyra turned to you. Her face contorted in pain as she grabbed Tobyâs leg. Her mouth opened monstrously as she darted forward, ready to bite his lower limb.
Your heart raced, ready to screamâ before Toby moved. He grabbed the pipe discarded beside him and reflexively hit her in the head again.
The usual rotting liquid began leaking from the wound. Blonde hair stained scarlet as she stopped moving completely.
Toby quickly got up, panting, and threw the metallic tube as if it burned him.
You both stared at her for seconds that felt like an eternity, assessing her final, utter stillness.
He didnât say a word. Instead, he picked up Lyraâs body and headed toward the old pickup.
Lyra was laid in the backseat. Looking at her like that, she seemed calmâ like sheâd just gotten off a tiresome shift and was taking a nap. She looked as if she could wake up at any moment, laughing and telling you about some new experiment or how annoying a colleague had been all day.
You turned back to face the road ahead, leaving her image in the fantasy youâd built. It was better to keep it that way.
The drive was quiet. You didnât even ask Toby where he was going.
It sure wasnât either of your houses.
Heâd gone in the opposite direction.
He parked the pickup outside a big lake on the outskirts of the city, near the main highway leading to its center.
âLyra loved it hereâ he said, breaking the silence âItâs better to do this now, while itâs still peaceful. It seems we donât have long leftâ
He took Lyraâs body in his arms. The two of you walked to sit at the edge of the lake.
âThis is so unfairâ Tobyâs eyes were hollow as he looked at the sun sparkling on the water.
âShe was the kindest, most selfless person I know. She always tried to fix things for everyone, to help othersâŠâ His voice cracked âYou see, even when Dad got mad at us when we were younger, sheâd stand up for me. Shield me from his shit. Sing lullabies as she slept next to me, holding my hands, making it all seem like a game, distantâ.
You stayed silent, feeling hopeless. Uncomfortable, even. Maybe it shouldâve been you. You wished you couldâve swapped places with Lyra.
âShe used to do this particular⊠game. Can I even say that?â Toby chuckled at himself, lost deep in the memory âWhenever Dad drank too much and started chasing me to hit me with his belt, sheâd take my hand and run with me. So fast! Sheâd found this spot next to Momâs old wardrobeâ actually it was inside, I think. Inside the wardrobe, there was this secret space Mom used for the few jewels sheâd left, since dadâs greedy ass took everything. Lyra used to hide me thereâ
ââShhh! This is a hide-and-seek, super hard game! Stay hidden so you can win, yeah?ââ Toby mimicked her voice, going a pitch higher ââDadâs playing like the bad monster, and if you win as a knight, heâs gonna take us to the park and buy lots of ice cream!ââ
He wiped his face, chuckling despite everything.
âSheâd wink and close the wardrobe door, and Iâd stay there âtil she came back to free meâ all beaten up, while Dad collapsed on the couch. If i believed in it iâd have sworn she was my guardian angel, y/nâ
Toby turned to face you, his eyes clouded by a sheen of tears. Ever since youâd met him in one of your classes, youâd never seen him cry.
You didnât know how to react. The whole situation felt almost uncomfortable. You took his face and buried it in your chest.
âIâm so incredibly sorry, baby. Iâm so, so fucking sorry.â
You helped him give Lyra a burial as proper as you could.
Except it wasnât an actual burial. You let her body sink down, slowly, to the floor of the lake sheâd loved so much.
Seeing her disappear completely, Toby cried for hours. You didnât know how long, but it was enough for his eyes to redden, the skin inflamed, and your shirt to be soaked where heâd pressed his face.
âShe was smartâ you added cautiously, wanting to say something good but avoid upsetting him further âAnd she died serving her purposeâ to help others. Plus⊠she recognized you, Tobs. I think she tried really hard not to hurt you.â
He nodded against your chest, holding onto your arms like a lifeline.
âIn a wayâŠâ You hesitated, then continued âAt least she died close to you. Before she could fully become one of those thingsâŠâ
Your words must've stung a nerve in him as he suddenly pushed away from you, frowning. He dried his eyes, his demeanor shifting completely as he stood up.
âWeâ we should go.â
Did you mess up? Had you said anything wrong?
Shame rose like a violent wave of blood to your head as you made your way back into the pickup.
The drive was once again silent. A different kind of quiet, though.
You wanted to ask if youâd upset him. Ask if he was angry at you. It was already too much. You couldnât have him turn on you.
You were all he had, too, anyway. He couldnât be angry, could he?
You both went back to his apartment.
âStart packing,â he said âWeâre getting out of here.â
âOut of your house?â
âOut of the cityâ His breath came ragged as he resumed speaking. âThoseââ He paused, massaging his temples before continuing, as if elaborating whatever he meant to say physically strained him âThose things spread all over the lab. Iâm sure the virus is already in the air as we speakâ.
âButâ â
âNoâ His voice was firm âPlease. Lyraâsâ it was enough. I donât want to risk it. I canâtâ He sounded jaded as he took off his mask.
You copied him, forgetting you still had the fabric tissue on in the first place.
âJust listen to me, damnit. Don't make this even more difficult than it is. Pleaseâ.
He sighed loudly before speaking again.
âWeâll go tomorrow, yeah? Leave the city. Just you and me. Be safe a state away or two. Maybe even flee the countryâ.
He reached out to hold your hand, fingers intertwining as you nodded.
Tomorrow? Okay. Yeah.
It was enough time to take your things and pack everything into two camping backpacks Toby had bought an undefined amount of time before.
It seemed to fit, all of it working so well. Yet, as you drove past the desert streets the next dayâ tires screeching against the asphalt between concrete blocksâ big military trucks appeared, blocking your way.
âHalt! Where are you going?â
âWe gotâ we gotta reach some family out of the city, sir.â Toby lied.
âToo bad the cityâs blocked, young man. Itâs an order from the Department of Public Safety. Youâre gonna have to go back home.â
The man looked straight at Toby over his mask, tightening his grip on the rifle just enough to suggest obedience.
âY-you canât be for realââ
But there was no use resisting.
You squeezed Tobyâs arm, nodding to the officer and begging him to turn around and drive back. It wouldâve been ironic to die with a bullet between your eyes after the shit youâd been through already, wouldn't it?
Thatâs how the two of you had gotten into literal, fucking hell.
151 days of finding shelter. Trying to ration food to save enough and avoid risking your lives twice a week, hoping for a can of stale beans and some hot water.
The containment had failed; âSurprisingly enoughâ you could feel Tobyâs voice play in your head, sarcastic and bitter.
The virus had spread fast. People had been taken by surprise, understandably unprepared for such a disaster.
Nor were the police or your local doctors.
Hopping from shelter to shelter, youâd now stabilized in a small treehouse at the back of some abandoned house on the outskirts for quite some timeâ probably a few weeks, though it was hard to tell. Every day was the same, and time was a luxury you couldnât afford.
Youâd traded Tobyâs car for bandages, a few bottles of clean water and bread a few weeks prior. The new, insane gas prices in your city made it pointless to keep it anyway. Better to make profit off what you had.
Toby took the ladder away, ensuring no one could enter your hideout. You laid down on an old mattress.
It was cold. Yet you had to take it. You couldnât risk dying by lighting a fire on the wooden floor of the house.
There were so many incredibly weird ways you could die, more than youâd ever cared to think of.
Toby took an old wool scarf and hung it around you.
âI know itâs cold.â
âIt doesnât matterâ you said. âI know itâs a sacrifice for our safety, being up here.â
âYeah.â
He observed you, his gaze slithering over your form. You felt patheticâ small, cradled in the scarfâs softness, seemingly ridiculously helpless and weak.
Yeah, it had really taken a toll on you. The whole situation.
Youâd done everything for those weeks alongside Toby to stay alive, to keep going. Yet you had gotten to a point you felt exhausted. Completely drained.
You felt selfish. The world was going to hell, and you were there worrying about your stupid brain, playing tricks that made you sad? And you had the guts to complain.
How could you?
You were already burdening Toby, you were sure. Heâd have been way better off without you.
âYou should leave me here.â
The words escaped your lips before you could even realize what you were saying.
âWhat?â
âYou should⊠leave me hereâ You spoke again, suddenly unsure, as if youâd reconsidered stepping back from the massive bomb youâd just dropped.
âThe hell are you s-saying, all of a sudden?â
âIâm saying Iâm burdening you.â
Paraphrasing wouldnât make it sound less idiotic. But there was no point in talking useless crap at this point. It wouldnât serve either of you.
âOh my fuckingâ did you manage to find a way to get high or drunk behind my back?â He spat out, mocking.
âWeâve been going for how long? Three months? Itâs already been far too long. I canâtâ I canât do this anymore. Iâm just so tired, Tobs. Whatâs the point?â
âYou canât be serious!â His voice strained, raspy like a rake scraping up and down his larynx âAfter all the shit weâve been throughâ fuck you!â youâre just going to give up on me?â
âItâs not what I meant.â You sunk deeper into the woolen embrace, closing your eyes as if, just by hoping hard enough, you could disappear into a void of nothingness and sleepâ hibernating forever.
âNo?â His voice came out strained ââCause it fucking seems like that to me.â
He got up, pacing back and forth in the tiny space of your shelter. He massaged his right temple, then tightened his fists at his sides.
âJustâ why? Is it something I did? Something I made you think?â what, whatever that is, I promise weâ I can fix it.â
âItâs notâŠâ You felt physically drained again just pronouncing those few words.
His voice overpowered yours.
ââ you just gotta talk to me, though! I canâtâ canât do it alone, and I canât read your mind. So just please, donât shut me out!â
âI said, itâs none of that!â You pushed out all the strength you had left to raise your voice, snapping him out of his self-destructive spiral of misery.
You pushed yourself up, closing the distance between you both. You caressed his cheek, your thumb tracing circles over his cheekbone.
âI didnât mean to upset you. Iâm sorry⊠It's just a stupid thought circling in my head. I think Iâm just scared, really.â
Hearing your own words echo like that made you cringe in embarrassment. You tensed up.
âScared?â He frowned, his hand moving to rest on your wrist as he felt you tense. He caged you in place.
âThat youâll eventually find out how useless and burdensome I am. That youâll get tired of me, and itâll suck. That youâll leave me behind, and Iâll be a mess.â You sighed, your breath coming short at your own words, all spat out in a rush. âIâd rather prevent that. Warn you beforehand to make this easier for the both of us.â
âYouâre fucking delusional if you think any of that is ever going to happenâ he said. âYou have great creativity, though. Iâll give you that.â
He then began laughingâ simply that, laughing as if he hadnât in months.
A thick, guttural guffaw erupted from deep in his chest.
That echoing sound quickly twisted into something differentâ more desperate, something bordering on a gasp, a breathless choking.
âYouâre ridiculousâ Another gasp of air, a hiccup, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably âYouâre fucking ridiculous!â
His gaze rose again, fixing on you. Wide, shaky pupils pierced into you.
âWhat the fuckâ what the fuck are you saying? Do youâ shit! Do you hear yourself?â
You stayed silent, avoiding the judgment looming in his gaze.
âYouâre all I have! How can you be so fuckingâ so fucking clueless andâ â
His hiccups grew violent. He tried to sink into himself, to grow smaller, holding himself between his arms.
He hissed, pained, biting his tongue from saying something mean and dumb, curling his fingers in two tight fists.
âYouâre all I have left in thisâ this fucked-up world. Why would I ever leave you?â His voice cracked on the last syllables, his face scrunching up.
The strange cadence of his tone forced your gaze back to him.
âI donâtâ I wouldnât have any reason to do this at all. Not one reason if it wasnât for you. You are all I have, andâ â
He angrily wiped away unruly tears steaming down his cheeks.
Oh, this was fucking embarrassing.
âI justââ His voice wavered âThe need to keep you safe and secure is all Iâm doing this for. Really. If it wasnât for you, Iâd have blown my brains out the moment Lyra died. I miss her so much, y/nâ.
His face twisted, contracting in a snarl as an intrusive, unwanted memory clawed its way back into his mind.
âI miss her so much. Every day. Every fucking morning, I wake up, and the realization sheâs gone forever strikes me. I justâ I wonât ever get used to it. Itâs like renewing the pain of that day she died, over and over.â
Another crack in his voice. All the tension in his face finally released as he looked at you, as if heâd just regained some sort of awareness of the reality around him.
âBut then⊠thereâs youâ His breath hitched âYou keep me anchored, and the idea of losing you too is simply⊠fucking unbearable. Actually, itâs not a p-possibility at all.â
Youâd never seen Toby like this: exposed, fragile, like a little kid. It made your heart contract painfully into a pulp.
Even after Lyra died, heâd sucked it up, having it all together. He seemed like the one strong enough to keep going, figuring it all out. Life had always been unfair to him, ever since he was a kid; When youâre doomed to suffer, all you can do is learn to stand up and kick that bitch back.
But now something had changedâ your words had snapped the one fragile sting keeping all his pieces together. It was like all the shit heâd bottled upâ all the things heâd tried to suffocateâ were resurfacing, violent and terribly frightening.
âI canâtâ I canât go on. I could never go on if you left meâ â His breath was ragged as bitten-down hands came to lace his fingers with yours.
âI wonât. Iâm sorryâ.
âPromise?â His voice cracked. âI swear to God, if you leave, Iâ I donât know what Iâll do, but Iâll do something a-and i just know, i know it will be badâ.
âI wonât. Iâm sorry, baby. I didnât mean to upset you like thisâ.
You moved, sitting down with him so he could rest his head on your lap.
You moved the scarf enough to cover you both.
âI love you. I wonât leave. Okay?â You stroked his hair gently âThat was just my stupid, useless thoughts. I thought Iâd do you a favor by getting out of the way.â
âThatâd never be a favor for me.â His voice was firm âI donât care if youâre sad sometimes. If weâre stuck in the same place for ten daysâI donât care. We can stay here forever if you want, justâŠkeep caressing me like that, pleaseâ.
I love sharing useless informations nobody asked for but I gotta share my enthusiasm somewhere so
I love whenever I get like super obsessed with stuff like oh gosh suddenly all my problems are fixed and anxiety does not exist đââïž
Iâm like going down, like going back super into the EMH hole after like idk years dude ever since middle school and itâs funny cause whenever summer approaches I get dragged back full force to the origins,, like last summer I started a Marble Hornets rewatch okay I love life I have a reason
OMGGGG đđđđ THAT WAS SOSO GOOD IM MELTINGGGG YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY THE BEST YOU CHARACTERIZE EVERYONE SOSO WELL IM CRYING THANK YOU SOSO MUCH THIS WAS GOLD TO ME
I wish you so much luck on your exams! I'm sure you'll do amazing! also I totally get the idv thing, I'm not playing because of the boycott either and it's content like yours that makes it much easier to handle :) Thank you soso much again!
You're an incredible writer and I love how you make things! you're deeply inspiring! best of luck! đ«¶
AHH YOU ARE JUST SUPER KIND BUT Iâm not gonna complain cause this made my day đââïžđđŒ
Iâm glad this is of any help since the situation sucks :,) we just need to keep hoping theyâll address the matter soon
Tw: gender neutral as usual (adjectives used as so), tiiiiiny suggestive on Andrewâs (literally just mentions of making out).
As much as you enjoyed makeup, finding the right products for you was such a hassle it ruined the whole experience.
It wasnât only difficult to pick the right shades and texturesâ you also had to think about durability, of course.
Being out all day long, whether for studying or workâ whatever your routine demanded of youâ you definitely couldnât risk looking like a smashed cake by the time you stepped foot back into your house.
Rightfully so, you decided to put all your products to the test: mascara, eyeliner and, most importantly, your lipsticks.
You thought itâd be easy workâ simply applying a layer over your lips, finding something to use as a test subject, and finally deciding on the poor pigmentâs fate.
But oh, had you been wrong.
Not only did you own so many lipsticks it wouldâve taken hours to test them all, but youâd also ignored the most crucial part: what could possibly make a good subject for your little experiment?
Just as despair began to swell inside you, you heard the door to the room you shared with your boyfriend slowly creak open.
Weeping clown đ
Jokerâs head peeked through the doorway almost shyly. It had been quite a while since you two got together, yet he was still timid, wary, almost tiptoeing around your presence. Of course, deep down, he still couldnât believe you had actually chosen himâ to settle down with, at that!
It was unbelievable.
Getting to see that pretty face of yours every single day.
âHey, Iâm sorry to interrupt whatever you were doingâ I just wanted to ask what you wanted for dinner?â
You turned toward him, eyes lighting up as your mind stumbled upon the greatest realization it couldâve possibly had.
âJoker! Of course! Come here!â
He didnât even get the chance to ask what you meant before you grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside you.
The bed emitted a small thud beneath his weight as he looked at the mess of lipstick tubes scattered across the sheets.
âOh, youâve been experimenting with your makeup, dear?â
âNot really. Honestly, Iâve been thinking about going on a whole shopping spree to renew my entire stashâ.
âReally? Thatâs a shame. I think the ones you already have really suit youâ.
âYou think?â
He hummed softly, taking one of the tubes and twisting the cap open.
Then he leaned closer, gently applying a dark crimson shade over your lips.
âAh, so beautiful!â
You picked up your pocket mirror to look at yourself.
âThis oneâs my favorite. Maybe youâre rightâ I donât need to throw them all away. I can just sort them out. Want to help?â
âOf course. What can I do?â
âJust⊠stay still, alright?â
He nodded eagerly, hands resting at his sides as he waited for whatever you had planned.
You studied yourself in the mirror one last time before leaning over to kiss his cheek.
âAhâ! I didnât know that was part of your planâŠâ he squeaked, clearly not expecting your sudden affection as you went back looking into the small mirrorâs frame.
Your lips had left behind a dark, yet faint stamp where they met his skin, the color still clinging to your mouth surprisingly well.
âMm. Seems like this oneâs staying.â
Then you tried anotherâ a brighter, more vivid red.
This time, you planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.
A much bolder stain remained behind.
âThank God, I hated this one!â You tossed the lipstick away, landing it perfectly inside the nearby trash can with a metallic clink.
Another lipstickâ yet another kiss.
His mouth, the corner of his lips, beneath his eyes.
By the time you finished testing them all, his face was covered in stains; Fainter or intense, a million shades of the same color and countless different pigments all the same. It was honestly a little funnyâ he looked like the walking canvas of some contemporary art piece.
You giggled at the sight of him.
âAh, do I amuse you, dear?â He couldnât help but laugh too after seeing your expression.
âYou know, maybe this look actually suits you. You should think about using it for one of your performancesâ.
âYou think?â
âTotallyâ.
âWell, now that you mention my performances, I should probably sort through my own equipment too. Itâs been quite some timeâŠâ
âAnd?â you prompted. You knew exactly where this was going.
âIt would only be fair if you returned the favor I so kindly gave you, no?â
âOh, you are not staining my entire face!â You quickly got up, backing away.
He followed after you, still giggling.
âOh, donât be mean! Donât you love me enough to help me too?â
You kept retreating until your back hit the wardrobe. By then, he had already wrapped his arms around you.
âNuh-uh! Never!â You slipped out of his grasp almost immediately, darting out the door while laughing.
âOh, youâre unfair! Youâre not getting away with this! Come here, darling!â He ran after you, snatching one of the lipstick tubes on the way out.
Andrew Kreiss đȘ
Andrewâs frame appeared in the doorway as it opened slowly.
âHey⊠Iâm back from workââ
He cut himself off as you nearly jumped out of your spot on the edge of the bed, the sudden movement making the lip gloss you were applying smear down your chin.
âAndrew! Goshâ you scared meâ.
âIâm sorry, lovely. I just wanted to let you know I got out of work earlyâ.
âItâs okay. Iâm sorry too, I didnât mean to scream at youâ you sighed, grabbing a mirror to inspect the brownish stain trailing down your face.
âThat color looks really flattering on youâ He walked over and sat beside you, awkward as ever.
It was honestly funny. No matter how much time you spent together, no matter how intimate things became between you, he still behaved as though you had only just started datingâ all stiff shoulders and nervous glances.
Thatâs why it surprised you when he reached out on his own, brushing his thumb over your chin to wipe away the mess heâd accidentally caused.
âIâm sorry I made you waste your lipstickâ.
âOh, itâs not a big deal, donât worry⊠actuallyââ
You moved closer, your breath warm against his face before pressing a kiss against his lips.
He instantly tensed, leaning back while his hands moved to loosen the collar around his neck.
âUh⊠I didnât expect thatâ he pointed out the obvious, eyes drifting away from yours as he clasped his hands tightly together on his lap.
His pale lips were now stained with the same chestnut shade decorating your own.
âDo you mind? I was actually trying them on to figure out which ones to keep and which ones to throw away, and it turns out your skin is way more comfortable than kissing napkinsâ you giggled.
âOh. Well, itâs my pleasure⊠I can help you, if you want?â
âWell, who am I to refuse when you insist so much?â
He offered you a faint smile before scooting closer again, carefully pushing strands of pale white hair behind his ears to give you more room for whatever you needed to do.
It didnât take long before his face was completely covered in stains and, honestly, he looked like a complete mess.
Your rather peculiar taste in colors definitely didnât help.
There were pale violets and electric blues near his templesâ he looked as though heâd been beaten up.
Black smudges stained his cheeks. Lip-shaped marks covered his forehead and, above all else, his mouth soon ended up ruined. An incident somewhere along the wayâ color smeared far beyond the edges of his lips, as if heâd been devoured whole.
But how were you supposed to help yourself?
Whenever you kissed him he got flustered so easily that it only made you want to push him further, tease him past his limits.
You two had ended up fully making out somewhere in the middle of the experimentâ a sweet little accident, at least.
Lipsticks had been long forgotten and abandoned on the sheets, some still left half-open.
âBe careful, theyâre going to stain the bed!â
âWe can clean it later, âDrew, come on. I still need to finish my test!â You wiped your own mouth, just as messy as his.
âI thought it was over?â
âI just got distracted, thatâs all. Come on, donât quit on me nowâ.
âYou know that even if I wanted to, I couldnâtâhe sighed, already bracing himself as you leaned in once again.
Matthias Czernin đȘ”
Matthias knocked before walking into your room.
There you were, staring at yourself through a compact mirror while your finger wiped leftover lipstick from your lips. You grunted under your breath, muttering a quiet curse as he watched you silently from the doorway.
Just standing there, taking you in.
You looked beautiful.
If heâd told you that in that moment, you wouldâve probably scoffed, denied it outright, then gotten embarrassed afterward.
It was true that you looked messyâ lipstick smeared across your mouth, black mascara clumped beneath your eyesâ yet the more he looked at you, the more something warm and comforting pooled inside his chest. Something so overwhelmingly big it almost made him dizzy.
In moments like these, he often found himself wonderingâ whether to the universe or simply to himself, he wasnât sureâ how he had managed to get this lucky for once in his life.
Maybe you really were some sort of apology from the universe for everything he had endured.
Or maybe not an apology.
Maybe you were simply the reason to stay.
A sign to keep going.
Whatever it was, the more he looked at you, the more unreal it felt that you had chosen him.
Him.
You couldâve had anyone you wanted, yet you chose to spend your life beside him.
Not even Luis.
Him, and him alone.
He approached carefully, resting a hand against your shoulder.
âIs everything okay?â
âNoâ yes. Itâs nothing, sorry. Iâm just annoyed. I came home and realized Iâd spent the entire day walking around looking like a clownâ.
âYou donât look like a clown. I think you look pretty.â
âYeah, well, I feel stupid.â
He sat beside you quietly.
âIt always happens like this. Ugh. Some of this makeup just doesnât last long enoughâ.
âWell, you do have a lot of it. Maybe itâd help to sort out the ones that upset you with-âŠâ he gestured vaguely toward your face.
âYouâre right, I shouldâ. You sighed, standing up to grab a plastic basket from your vanity filled with different lipstick tubes.
âI can start with theseâ.
âOh. Right now?â
âYeah. No point waitingâ Your hands froze in the middle of rummaging through the basket as you looked at him. âDo you want to help me?â
âHelp you?â
âYeah, help me test them. I need to see how durable each one isâ.
âUh⊠okay. Of course. Should I put these on too?â
You laughed softly at that. He gave you the faintest hint of a smile, though he clearly didnât understand what had amused you.
âNo, no. Just stay still, alright?â
He nodded obediently, watching as you opened a gloss and dragged the wand carefully over your lips.
He stared at you through half-lidded eyes in utter awe, patiently waiting exactly as you had askedâ until he suddenly stiffened at an unexpected kiss.
âOhââ
He stayed frozen as though heâd just been flash-banged while you pulled away to inspect the faint velvet stain left behind on his lips.
âMm. Decent enoughâ.
âWas that part of your⊠test?â
âYeah. Youâre a huge help, just stay still, okay baby?â
And so, you continued.
Wiping, reapplying, changing shades over and over againâ and with every new lipstick came another kiss.
Eventually, there wasnât a single clean spot left on his face.
And every single time, he reacted with the same stunned expression, as though you hadnât kissed him ten times already within the last few minutes.
You had put on some wine red gloss as you kissed him once, twice, then again- color slowly fading from your lips.
âI think you forgot to change your lipstickâŠâ
âMm, no. Iâm doneâ you muttered against his lips before kissing him once more âThis oneâs just for me. Personal test. No lipsticks involvedâ.
Guys Iâm sorry I planned on posting something these days but Iâve just got back from my trip to nyc and I didnât manage to write on the plane as I planned đ
