#boyfriendaudios

[stellarislune]

Asirel x Pet | impromptu fic

Or what happens when Pet 'ran' away without a trace one day.

ASIREL's POV

"Are you sure that these tactics will give us more profit?"

"Surely, the losses will be big. I beg to disagree."

"Perhaps we should do this instead.."

"I highly doubt the effectiveness of the.."

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Flashbacks of the meeting drilled a headache down into my brain.

It's another one of those days where the court just keeps toeing their feet out of line. If I snap back, they appease me with their façade of docileness.

Even with all the power and reputation in my grasp, the fact that I am younger than most of those greedy, old zealots mean that I am lower than them. At least, that is what they believe.

Sigh.

If I crack at the smallest slight against me, it'll be a big damage to my invincible, shiny image.

Asirel.

The most powerful man with powerful connections all over the world. I scoffed to myself. The throne is a lonely place for the Almighty.

Creakkk.

The door opens to my favorite chamber as of late; the room that belongs to my favored Pet.

At this time of the evening, they're usually up and about. Either playing with knives and darts, reading, or simply exploring the room in their idle time. I have not allowed them to come out ever since that fiasco where they tried to use my personal lessons on others. Not that I left that fool gloating over having stolen what was mine — they won't be able to bring mortal possessions in whatever position they are in right now.

What greets me, however, is an empty, silent room devoid of light from the chandeliers hanging above. There's knives scattered on the floor, splattered with what looked like blood. A soft breeze runs past me, so I turn my head towards the window. It has been broken—whether it has been broken in or out however, I do not know.

It's a moonlit night. Its rays illuminated the room dimly, yet with enough light to identify whatever it is on the ground. Several bodies, probably dead, all scattered unceremoniously against the walls in various directions.

"What games are you playing, Pet?", I mutter to myself, exasperated yet also intrigued. This is surely not the first time this has happened.

My Pet has gone to feed, perhaps. Unsated by these.. lucky fools. I think. They always return to me.

Suddenly, the waft of air brings something that smells strangely familiar. The scent.

It brings back the smell of rusty cages, bleek-looking faces, and a rot of something that has never seen the light for ages—during the first time that I have met them.

It's the faint scent of inhibitors.

I turned the lights on.

The bodies in the dark now have faces on them. Seeing such a mess in this room has never been surprising. Pet always feeds as if they have been starved. Like a feral beast without a leash. What shocks me is the fact that the men, albeit beaten up and bruised, appear to be alive.

I knelt down, putting two fingers on one of the men's neck and, indeed, there's a pulse. These men have fought, that's obvious enough. To think that they were toyed by my Pet is a huge possibility, yet something compels me to think that something is definitely, definitely, wrong.

With haste, I grabbed my phone. Calling one of my attendants to check on the CCTVs all over the place. My hands, which were once burning with annoyance and anger from earlier, felt cold as ice.

"Check every footage. Every nook and cranny.", My voice was deep, commanding. Somehow, it sounded shaky against the static. "My Pet is somewhere in this vicinity. Rally my men and find them." I grit my teeth as I put the phone down.

This isn't the first time that you've disappeared. It's not the first time that you have escaped from my grasp, only to be dragged back again.

But this.. this is the first time my heart has beaten this fast.

Surely, you will return. Right?

[cinnamonapplecrack]

why are matt’s speaking voice versus his asmr voice two different strangers

[stellarislune]

Andrew x Darling ; Rewind pt. 2

alternate universe where, two years after your failed confession towards andrew, you became his teacher assistant instead! 🤭

here's the link to part one! make sure to read it first.

YOUR POV

Two weeks after that day.

Here you are at Professor Andrew's office.

It's a neat workspace with his table and swivel chair at the far right of the office. It's a new one, it seems. Probably bought not far from a month ago. How do you know? Because you’re a psychic.

You snort to yourself and then you shake your head, feeling silly for distracting yourself from what you’re doing.

Right now, you’re sorting suspended files stacked and stored on his set of cabinets and shelves lined up against the left of the room. According to him, he did not let Luca touch the files since he filed for a one year leave prior to his engagement with his boyfriend—now fiancé.

Based on his words, you quote, "With him and those files around, he won't be able to leave at all. He's far from the skittish, clumsy assistant that I knew of when he first started. He's passionate and hardworking. He's dedicated to finishing on time. He's quite the perfectionist, .. it's almost an obsession for him to perform at best. Ah— I'm rambling. Just make sure to file them per year. I bought face masks to avoid inhaling dust, it's on my first drawer on the table. Use it."

Luca probably will be reluctant to leave with work unfinished, you agree with him. So, with a mask on and a ton (you’re exaggerating) of folders and files, you began to sort each into their subjective years. A few of the files were former submissions from students throughout the years and let's say you have had a good time reading through a few funny and profound reads in between filing.

“The forbiddenness of a fruit..” You trail off, squinting. The handwriting on the paper has been smudged. You can barely make out what the rest of the sentence was. You pulled the paper closer to your eyes in hopes that, by doing so, you can see the words clearly.

“-even makes the taste of a lemon sweet’, is what it says.” A voice continues. “By Mokokoma Mokhonoana.”

The room is suddenly filled with static energy. One spark and it’ll catch fire. You hadn't realized that you were too absorbed into your work that he was right behind you already; snapping you back into reality.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

The room is on fire and you’re the only one seeing it burning.

You lifted my eyes at him in an attempt to steal a glance, and then you resigned yourself back to work.

You cleared your throat and greeted, "Good afternoon, Professor."

"Ever so polite like always, aren't you?" Andrew jests.

“Uhm, Yes..?" You reply, not sure what to say. "I'm, uh, done sorting the files from the first cabinet and it's all of the 2019 ones, Sir." Might as well give your work report instead. You hurriedly dropped the paper you were reading. While the passage was interesting like most of the submitted works, they are still not yours to mess with.

“I see.”

“Yeah.” Awkward.

"So much work done in so little time. I commend that. Here, take this."

Andrew reaches for his bag and retrieves a medium-sized can with a label named ‘Blended Brews’.

You turned to him and accepted it, seeing how it’ll be rude if you do reject it. It felt cold against your hand.

"—I was thinking of having it myself but I already picked up coffee from the main office. It's iced caramel macchiato. If you don't like it, just keep it there nonetheless. You might get thirsty." He adds, walking away to put his bag onto his desk. Stretching his arms before sitting down in his swivel chair.

You stare at the coffee he probably got from one of the vending machines for a while. Then, you responded, “Ah, y-yes. I’ll keep this for later.” You laugh sheepishly before setting it to your side. “Thank you, Sir.”

Silence follows.

If you remember correctly, he is a workaholic. Always in his office, never out, unless he has classes. While the usual professors may be glad to have their classes end, he always looks a tad bit sad whenever classes finish in your perspective.

You heave a sigh.

“You..”, Andrew began, making you glance at him. He clears his throat and continues,“-you don’t have to call me Sir or Professor, you know. We’re colleagues now, and you’re my assistant. That grants us both the privilege of calling each other by name, yes?”

That does make sense. Is it awkward for him perhaps to be called as such since you are no longer a student? Perhaps. Who knows? Another sigh follows.

“Very well,” you cleared your throat, "As you wish, Andrew.”

You did not know whether it was the way you said it but that garnered a hearty laugh from him. His eyes glistening as he shakes his head. His face is the epitome of amusement.

“With how you spoke, it almost catapults me back to the Medieval era,” His lips lifted a little to the side, forming a mischievous smile. “Are you gonna call me ‘My liege’ next, Listener?”

His gaze bore through yours, your eyes staring right into each other.

Your breath hitches.

Just like the first time your heart raced this fast. Being able to openly look at him without the fear of any other assumptions does something to you.

Andrew has always been beautiful in your eyes, and seeing him like this right now just hardens that thought in your head.

“I might?” You responded cheekily upon gathering yourself. “Or would you prefer ‘Your Royal Highness?’”

“That would be incongruent with how I am—I'd worry too much about taxes, security, and healthcare in my head, that I'll probably end up on the guillotine. Or—I'll be too strict that the commonfolk will initiate a coup against me.” Andrew chided.

“A royal advisor, then?” You grinned. You tried not to snort upon hearing the rather grim hypothesis that Andrew responded with.

“Hm, fitting. Did the option ‘troubadour’ never come to your mind?” (troubadours - lyric poet musicians who usually sing of courtly love in the 13th century). Andrew swings his chair to the left, the angle now facing towards you. He opens his mouth as if to continue further, but he closes it. Then, he says, “Nevermind. I'm interfering with your work now—”

“You'd make lovely pieces,” You interrupted as you sorted the last folders on your left. It contained nothing but old, unreadable papers so you’re keeping them for shredding later on. 

“Oh? And have you read any of my work for you to hypothesize such a statement?” His voice sounds.. intrigued. 

“You are a literature and history professor. Isn't that a natural assumption?”

“Touché.” Andrew chuckles, his eyes shining with interest. 

The atmosphere seemed lighter now. The worries you have running in your head are just melting like glaciers underneath the sun’s direct rays.

You thought working with Andrew might be too taxing for you. You fear disappointing him now, like how you feared disappointing him with mediocre submissions way, way back when he was your literature professor. 

However, thinking of it now..

It’s not so bad after all.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ Watch out for part 3 SOON! 💖

[stellarislune]

sakuverse: exists

me: