Work Text:
The true crime genre, while fast-growing, was one of the most oversaturated on the market. Still, one artist had set himself apart: a mysterious host known for purring humanity’s most abject horrors in a lover’s croon. His videos always started the same:
A black screen.
Flecks of white noise fuzz into the image, slowly encroaching from all sides, joined by the gentle hum of static that would build ominously in volume, until—
A voice, spoken with a touch of transatlantic accent. Soft, calm, and anonymised through a thick radio filter reminiscent of times past.
“Have you ever learned something new about a person that you just can’t believe? Perhaps a trusted source told you a story. One that revealed a side of your friend that just didn’t align with your version of the truth.”
“You might tell yourself: it can’t be. He’s not like that. Not him. So you do your own investigation. You ask your friends, search through chat logs, social media profiles, trying to find any scrap of evidence that points to this person being the devil that source said they are. But maybe everything you find is circumstantial — nothing concrete.”
“It’s easy to convince yourself that the story was made up. But then, some time later, someone else tells you a similar story. And you can’t help but wonder… was it all true?”
“This… is one of those stories.”
“Hello, my Wayward Sinners.” The voice caressed the microphone with the familiarity of someone who had uttered those same words hundreds of times before. “Welcome to Twisted Minds, a True Crime Podcast. Be warned: tonight’s episode contains content that some listeners may find disturbing…”
Created on YouTube ten years ago, Twisted Minds had garnered a loyal following for its chilling investigations into unsolved crimes and deep dives into the psyches of serial killers. It went viral when evidence re-examined in a mini-series led to the reopening of an investigation and the capture of a perpetrator. The series gained millions of views and even made national news — but only recently did the channel itself surpass a respectable 100,000 subscribers.
Nowadays, the most discussed topic regarding Twisted Minds was its faceless and nameless host. The mystery of who was behind the radio filter drove many to speculate whether he was involved in any of the crimes he reported on or whether he was merely another artificial voice dubbed over some pre-teen girl gushing about killers brandishing machetes from her parent’s basement.
The reality: Alastor—the man behind the microphone—simply had a curious mind with an eye for detail and a thirst for uncovering the truth. The only blades he wielded were his tongue to make cutting remarks, the shearing tool to trim out dead air on his editing timeline, and, of course, the occasional chef’s knife to whip up his mother’s award winning jambalaya.
Alastor pressed pause on his video, marking down the timestamp of where his introduction finished in the video’s description. He was scrubbing through his footage for the next chapter break to add in when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Hastily, he alt-tabbed to hide his YouTube channel and looked up at the approaching person.
It was the barista, bringing over his drink. He was the very vision of platinum blond perfection, petite and cheerful, and blessed with capable hands that could whip up a mean cappuccino. The shiny, metallic badge pinned to his brown apron read “Lucy”. Whether that was actually his name or borrowed from a female coworker, Alastor didn’t know. All that mattered was that this man made a damn good cup of coffee with one hell of a kick.
He may or may not have possibly memorised the barista’s working schedule to make sure he only came to the shop when Lucy was on shift. They hardly spoke past placing his order, which, regrettably, had recently been shortened to Lucy asking the usual? before Alastor could even get a word out.
“Cappuccino for Alastor?” Lucy smiled, his cheeks tinged with a warm hue. Alastor had caught himself pathetically hoping once or twice before that it was a blush meant for him, but he had long ago convinced himself that steaming milk and boiling water all day naturally meant the man was just hot. Erm, temperature-wise.
He cleared his throat, banishing his traitorous thoughts, and lowered the lid of his laptop. He had some rather grisly material cued up, and the last thing Alastor wanted was this angel of mercy to lose his lunch.
“Thank you.” Alastor reached out to take it from him and felt a tremulous flutter in his stomach as his fingers brushed against Lucy’s soft skin. He schooled his face into a neutral expression, but Lucy continued to beam at him.
“Nooo problemo.” Lucy snapped his fingers into a pair of finger guns that he wiggled back and forth. “I mean, you did pay for it, so uh… no thanks needed! It would be pretty twisted if I just left it to get cold. So, just, um, doing my job!”
The gesture would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but Alastor found it endearing. Alastor smiled in return, and as Lucy turned on his heel to leave, Alastor’s eyes slid down his form. The pink button-down shirt he wore hugged his sinfully tiny waist, apron bow tied into a taut ribbon at the small of his back, the tails of which playfully swished back and forth against the man’s pert, round bottom as he bounced his way back to the counter.
Alastor was an observant man. It came with the job. But these kinds of observations? These were new — just like the flush adorning his own face.
No. His skin was probably just warm from the steam rising from the porcelain mug.
With a swig of coffee, he got back to work.
—
According to his analytics, Alastor’s audience demographic was mostly women in their 20s to 30s. The comments they left on his videos were positive, if mostly off-topic. Inane drivel about his voice or swooning over the way he said certain words. He only ever replied to comments that theorised about the cases in his videos, even if their ideas were mostly ridiculous.
Outside of the YouTube comments section, his fanbase was, according to his friends, “absolutely feral”. Rosie and Mimzy kept tabs on what happened on social media for their own channels, so they periodically updated him on what was being said about him. Apparently, fan artists had spent the better part of the past few years attempting to come up with their own concepts of how he might look.
The trending rendition right now seemed to depict him with an edgy red and black haircut he’d only be caught dead in, colours likely chosen to match his channel’s branding. But that certainly didn’t excuse the atrocious combination of bob and undercut they had concocted. That was a crime against fashion in and of itself.
However, the utterly ridiculous fan-imposed image of his alter-ego was why he — an unassuming, mousy-brown haired man with tanned skin and round glasses — could sit in the middle of a coffee shop to work on research for his new video, undisturbed. He rarely indulged in the impulse to flick his profile open when in public for fear of being compromised, but sometimes, when he was alone in the corner of the cafe like he was today, he felt overcome by the urge to take a peek.
Tabbing over to the Youtube tab buried beneath his gruesome research, he navigated to the notification centre. Usually, it was good for a quick boost of confidence, a little ah, people like my content that spurred him to keep going. Which was why it was such a shock to find a comment there so… rude.
@TemptationPodcast 1 day ago
wtf your voice??? oh my god i literally hate you so much
1.5K likes
^49 replies
This was weird. On the rare occasion he received hate comments, it was always from a faceless avatar that either had zero interaction or was downvoted to hell. This time, the comment came from an icon featuring a little hand-drawn angel emoji with devil horns and a tail. When he clicked into the replies, they seemed overwhelmingly in agreement as well.
@peachesandmomo: OMG I KNOW RIGHT??
@PresidentPetra: godddd same why is his voice like that i cant take it
@Nattdelulu: frfr it keeps me up at night i stg
@creampiepuff: OMG Lulu watches twisted minds??? im SCREAMING
Who the fuck was TemptationPodcast? That one fan referred to him as Lulu, so was he a Lucas? A Luther? As he rattled through potential names, his notifications kept pinging with more and more comments.
Was he being hate-raided? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, coffee forgotten. This was oddly reminiscent of when things had gone south with Vox a decade ago. Back then, Alastor had only been dabbling in the podcasting sphere, just getting started with a very minimal set-up at home. Vox had quickly befriended him, keen on bringing Alastor under his wing and even visited his apartment to teach him in person about the world of video content creation. Vox was a silver-tongued salesman, and before he knew it, Alastor had been roped into buying a bunch of expensive equipment and software he didn’t need nor knew how to use.
However, Alastor grew suspicious as Vox continued to be evasive around why Alastor needed the equipment and software he kept recommending. Alastor did some digging and asked a few of Vox’s other associates online, only to quickly find his story wasn’t unique. Vox was running a scam, and he’d been secretly profiting from the affiliate links everyone had been buying the equipment from.
He imagined being shot in the head would have been less painful than learning how hollow their friendship had been all along.
In a devastated, blind rage, Alastor had compiled the evidence and uploaded his exposé video within hours. Vox had called him a liar, a hack, and sicced his 500,000 subscribers on him. Alastor had been unable to use his channel for weeks.
Knowing he’d put his much-desired anonymity in the hands of his now mortal enemy had triggered more than a few panic attacks during that time. To this day, he still didn’t know why Vox hadn’t hit him where it would hurt most by revealing his identity. Perhaps because Alastor had only 7,000 subscribers at the time, he had been too small fry for anyone to care about.
But now, having freshly hit 100,000 subscribers, Alastor couldn’t take risks like this anymore.
Despite the rational part of his brain reminding him that a few negative comments could not be as bad, he could feel his pulse thudding in his neck and anxiety bubbling under his skin at the memory. He carefully slid his cursor over to TemptationPodcast’s username and clicked.
His blood ran cold.
TemptationPodcast had over 600,000 followers.
Alastor’s hands began shaking. His channel was his livelihood now; he wasn’t able to afford to go dark and wait a few months for the hate wave to pass. He couldn’t deal with this. He needed a smoke. Or a stiff drink or anything that could calm the wash of sheer anxiety coursing through him. His head was pounding, the rush of blood dampening his hearing, narrowing the scope of his vision to a long, dark tunnel, and fuck he needed some fresh air. Locking his laptop, he abandoned his table and strode outside, the bell of the coffee shop door chiming behind him mockingly.
Why was such a huge channel punching down on him? What the fuck was their problem? The radio filter was part of his brand identity. His fans liked it. If this channel hated his voice so much, why bother watching or leaving a comment at all?
Tucking himself into the small alcove outside Eden’s to take cover from the October rain, he tapped a slender stick from his cigarette pack and brought it to his lips. His thumb slipped against the flint on his lighter a few times before it finally produced a spark.
Once the cherry lit up, he sucked in a calming plume of nicotine. In a few minutes, his head would be clear, and he could start to think about how he was going to get through this mess.
The shop’s bells chimed quietly, and after a lingering pause, someone deliberately cleared their throat next to him.
Alastor glanced down. Tucked into the alcove next to him was the barista Lucy, sans his usual apron.
“Can I bum a smoke?” Lucy asked, peering up at him, blue eyes hopeful.
This was a first. Lucy had never initiated an interaction with him before other than taking his order and bringing it to his table. Alastor’s anxiety-riddled heartbeat began tripping over an entirely different rhythm, the YouTube drama forgotten in an instant.
Alastor was usually a bit more possessive of his smokes, but despite himself, he held his pack out to him silently, not trusting his tongue to form coherent words. Lucy took them and tried wiggling his slender fingers into the packet to pull a smoke out. When he failed, he gave the pack a firm shake and a stick freed itself. It was like he’d never smoked before. Alastor huffed a silent laugh at his clumsiness.
“Do you have a lighter?” Lucy handed the packet back to him, popping the filter between his lips.
“Mhm.” Alastor fished in his pocket for a moment, then froze.
His lighter was a gift from Rosie — one of three people who knew his real identity. It had a sleek black cartridge, with his logo engraved and filled in with a blood red enamel: two deer antlers wrapped around a microphone, the handle of which jutted out to a knife point at the bottom. It had been a celebratory gift when he’d received his Silver Play Button this year, and he cherished it.
While the chances of his barista recognising the logo and assuming he was the channel owner rather than just a fan were pretty low, he wasn’t willing to take the risk.
Carefully, he shifted his fingers around the casing in his pocket, hoping to god that the logo was adequately obscured, and then pulled it out. He held it between him and Lucy and flicked the flame to life, ignoring the man’s outstretched, expecting palm.
“Oh.” Lucy’s cheeks looked a little red — probably just from the biting October chill, nothing else — and after a slight pause, he leaned into Alastor’s space and brought the tip of his cigarette to the small flame to light it.
Heat creeped up the back of Alastor’s neck. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. The gentle parting of soft pink lips around the smoke, the cut of his angular jaw, the pale column of his throat that dipped beneath his button-down shirt. Alastor’s eidetic memory unhelpfully supplied that two more buttons had been undone since Lucy had served his coffee earlier. Had he just overheated, or—
A splutter of coughs interrupted his thoughts. Lucy’s cigarette was lit, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he fought to clear his throat. Alastor smiled; he was right.
“First time?” he asked.
“What?!” Lucy wheezed. “No, of course not.”
“Mmmhmm.” Alastor’s smile stretched to a grin, and he pocketed his lighter.
“I’ve had a rough day. Cut me some slack,” Lucy huffed and crossed his arms, carefully holding the cigarette out to the side. He seemed content to just let it burn down to the filter between his fingers. It was wasteful, and if he were anyone else, Alastor would have berated him, but…
“Drama at Eden’s? Oh, do tell.”
Lucy’s whole face lit up at the invitation. Without hesitation, he launched into it.
“My manager is a complete dickhead,” he began. “I submitted a request for time-off months ago, and he’s been leading me along month after month, saying that he needs to look at the rota, and that, oh, he needs to think about how to balance my shifts out with the new hires, yadda yadda… Aaanyway, he finally posted the new rota today, and he’s got me booked in for the entire weekend I want off! So I asked him about it and he said he forgot, but he said the rotas are—” he whipped out air quotes “—‘set in stone now’ and he won’t change it in case it looks like ‘favouritism’? Like, hello? Ugh, so now I’ve gotta systematically beg all of my coworkers until someone agrees to swap with me, but it’s a weekend so nobody’s going to do it…”
Lucy was so animated as he spoke. The way his eyes widened and his mouth jutted to the side as he impersonated his boss, to how he puffed out his cheek in a pout… The only way Alastor could describe him was adorable.
Alastor flinched as the filter of his own cigarette burned him, forgotten between his fingertips. He dropped it to the ground and stubbed the butt out with his toe of his Oxford, unsuccessfully crushing his unrequited thoughts for Lucy out with it.
“I don’t even need this job! Honestly, I’ve got half a mind to quit—”
“Don’t,” Alastor interrupted.
Lucy’s surprised blink matched how shocked Alastor felt. Fuck. He’d said that impulsively. If Lucy quit, who knows where he’d work next, and if Alastor couldn’t see him again… er, get his coffee again, well… he’d have to find a new coffee shop to go to, and he was already making the thirty minute trek to this one (even though there was literally a hundred of them within a ten-minute drive of his place), so it’d be a real hassle… right?
“Don’t?” Lucy prompted, expectant.
He wasn’t going to drop it. Think fast, Al.
“Job market’s shit right now.” Was it? He had no idea, he hadn’t worked a traditional job for seven years. “And if you like your job, don’t throw it away over one weekend. Just call in sick.”
“Oh.” Lucy dropped his dying cigarette butt to the ground and twisted the toe of his pink running shoe over it, “Yeah, I guess that’s a good point.”
Alastor’s shoulders sagged in relief. Lucy looked up at him and smiled brightly, eyes crinkling and cheeks pink.
“Thanks, Alastor.”
—
Lucy, if that really was his name, was intriguing. The first time Alastor had visited Eden’s, Lucy had been in the middle of cussing out a customer — a short man with a god-awful goatee and a backwards baseball cap — and while Alastor didn’t know what he had done to deserve Lucy’s ire, Alastor felt he likely deserved it from his fashion choices alone.
Alastor remembered it clearly. Lucy’s hands slammed onto the countertop, he seemed twice as tall as he bellowed at the customer. “ You’re in my coffee house, bitch! Take your little latte and leave.” And, like flipping a switch, he slipped back down to his normal height and added a pleasant “please”.
After watching the man scamper out the door, Lucy had turned to Alastor and beamed at him so brightly that Alastor’s heart skipped a beat.
“Hey, welcome to Eden’s! We don’t tolerate assholes here. What can I get ya?”
If Alastor had been the type to fall in love, he would have been head over heels right then.
And now, the little interaction in the alcove — Lucy asking for a cigarette when he clearly didn’t smoke — offered a new puzzle to ruminate upon. Theorising about Lucy’s intentions kept him occupied until he got home, where his thoughts were rudely interrupted by a buzz from his pocket.
Mimzy: Ooooh Alastor, sweetie, have ya been checking your comments on your latest vid? Some sleazy big hitter’s getting all up in your business. You gonna take that? Twitter’s going wild, hun
He sighed and closed her message without replying. He couldn’t put this off any longer.
—
Alastor flicked his desk lamp on and began the process of powering up his PC and his three VoxTek monitors (regrettably, the resale value on them was terrible, and he’d become accustomed to their convenience). Within minutes, he reopened the comment from TemptationPodcast to discover the replies and likes had grown exponentially since the cafe. And now, between the outpouring of people agreeing with the original comment, there was now a veritable flood of responses all saying variations of the same message: why hadn’t TwistedMinds replied?
Mimzy was right. He couldn’t just let this slide.
He paused to light a new cigarette before clicking on TemptationPodcast’s profile. Time to do some digging.
—
An hour later, Alastor hit a dead end.
TemptationPodcast had an astonishingly small digital footprint.
Which made sense, considering the type of content he created.
Created seven years ago, the channel’s earliest videos all seemed to be themed around relationships: “How to survive a breakup”, “Ten tips to get over your ex”, “Five signs she’s not right for you”, “How to heal a broken heart”, etc.
Annoyingly, the early videos where creators often revealed the most information about themselves (before they discovered the joys of doxxing) were as anonymous as they came.
The videos had been made in Powerpoint and screen recorded, with star wipes, spinning wheels, and checkerboard transitions between every comic sans riddled slide. Microsoft Sam provided a voice over, and despite carefully scrubbing through several of the channel’s original videos, he couldn’t find anything revealing about the creator.
However, a few years ago, the tone of the channel changed. With titles like “How to turn your bestie into your FWBestie”, “My dangerous one-night stand”, “Five myths about masturbation”, and “Ten alternatives to penetrative sex”, it was clear the channel had finally found its niche, and the views simultaneously began to skyrocket. The more than 600,000 subscribers now made sense. Sex sold, after all.
Alastor scoffed. Why would a… lifestyle channel pick a fight with a true crime channel? He couldn’t imagine their venn diagrams even remotely overlapped.
He was reluctant to click on any of this shameless clickbait and contribute to the channel’s views, but he refused to rely on Wikipedia for his own investigations. He would be discredited immediately.
So, he clicked on the channel’s latest video and waited for it to load.
A whisper in Alastor’s ear sent a shiver down his spine, the voice low, sultry and definitely not from Microsoft Sam.
“The best sex I’ve ever had was when I hooked up with a guy in my twenties, and you would not believe what he did to me— ”
Alastor slammed his spacebar to pause the video. A prickly heat creeped up his neck, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He absolutely did not want to find out whatever TemptationPodcast’s mid-20s hookup did to him, nope. No way. That was not appealing in the slightest.
However…
Something about the voice was oddly familiar.
He unpaused, the seductive voice dripping into his headphones once more.
“—and how I got the most delicious revenge—”
No. He wasn’t listening to this absolute filth. What was the likelihood of him recognising the voice of another faceless YouTuber? He only had two friends, and they were both women. Trying to listen more would be an act of madness.
It had nothing to do with the way his horrifically turned on brain unhelpfully supplied Lucy’s image, plush pink lips practically brushing the microphone as they whispered straight sin—
Nope. Nope— Absolutely fucking not.
He slammed the metaphorical lid on those thoughts harder than was necessary. A professional and mature response, to be certain. Tabbing back to the original comment thread, he spat out a pithy reply and called it a night.
@TemptationPodcast 1 day ago
wtf your voice??? oh my god i literally hate you so much@TwistedMinds 1 minute ago
I’m not taking feedback from someone who farms views using insipid clickbait
—
By the time Alastor finally left his research rabbit hole, the sun was starting to set, his apartment painted a muffled petrichor-grey through the rain pattering gently against the windows. His stomach had been complaining loudly for a while, having only been fed coffee and nicotine all day. Rosie would have had a fit if she knew.
Instead, he loaded up her channel and flipped through her recipe videos until he found something he could make with the scraps in his fridge. A simple little beef bourguignon would do the trick. He hit play, and it felt like she was there in the room with him while he diced onions and pan-seared some beef. It had been a while since they had met up in person, and he missed her dearly. He’d have to rectify that soon.
Once he served up, he padded back to his living room and palmed his phone absentmindedly. One notification in particular caught his eye. It seemed to be a reply to his insipid clickbait comment from one of TemptationPodcast’s followers:
@xXxlulufangrellexXx 2 sec ago
WTF??? Did you even watch the videos???
Alastor snorted, setting aside his bowl and spoon and typed out an extremely mature response:
@TwistedMinds just now
Unfortunately, I did, and now find myself with far less time and fewer brain cells to boot. Honestly, this content will do terrible things to your head.
Satisfied with his retort, Alastor thumbed through his bookshelf for a suitable distraction. He traced his fingers along the well-worn spines until he found something that looked relatively decent and settled back into his couch with his dinner. It was mindless, an old analysis of the Axe-Man of New Orleans he had read so many times that he practically knew it by heart, but within those familiar words, he felt the tension slowly melting from his shoulders. He was in control. This channel’s followers, while rude, were a far cry from the veritable mob Vox had unleashed years ago. The original account hadn’t even responded to his comment yet—
His phone pinged. There it was.
@TemptationPodcast 2 sec ago
ouch, buddy. but i’m not one to jerk around my fans. i even have a recommendation for you, handsome. it looks like you need it ;) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ p.s.: i can do more terrible things to your head, but you’ll have to at least take me to dinner first.
Alastor hovered over the link, half expecting a meme or something equally immature but had to stifle a laugh: it went to a video from TemptationPodcast entitled “How to make people like you”.
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a look.
His finger tapped the play button and he settled into the couch, headphones on a respectable half volume as TemptationPodcast’s voice washed over his ears.
“Are you an unlikeable jerk? Probably not! But you might need a few tips on how to expand that circle of friends and more than friends. You are in the right place! Let’s chat.”
TemptationPodcast was aptly named.
The voice of the anchor was as much a purr as anything and Alastor felt arousal coiling deep in his core with each syllable, shudders of frisson racing down his spine and setting the hairs of his arms on edge. He willed it down and attempted to focus on the words of the video, audio waveform at the bottom flaring up and down. If nothing else, Alastor had definitely discovered how the man had grown such an active fanbase.
From the way he purred “dear listener” occasionally before spiralling off on another point, Alastor’s face burned; it felt like he was listening to that voice whisper sweet nothings to him across a pillowcase, its timbre calling forth images of sweat-dampened sheets and pale, lust-addled moonlight.
It was honestly intoxicating, especially when the voice crooned about the intricacies of psychological models of perception and communication, making the technical terms of ‘decoding’ and ‘cognitive dissonance’ sound like a lover’s sigh. His clothes suddenly felt constricting as an uncomfortable and most unusual tightness started to form in his pants.
Was he honestly getting turned on from a surface level explanation of psychology 101? Alastor groaned, mentally adding this to the list of secrets he would take to his grave. But the man, all sultry laughter and lilting, seductive tones ushered him through the material effortlessly, describing scenarios — far fetched but still entertaining — of the listener employing these strategies in social scenarios.
And then, the cherry on top of an absolutely sinful dessert— the man leaned into the microphone, breathy and sweet and murmured: “And remember: the most important part is confidence. You’re sexy when you love yourself, listener, so please do. Temptation out.”
The video came to an end and Alastor let out a breath. His headphones were silent now, but the echoes of that damnable voice were still lingering in his ears. Alastor felt his brain most unhelpfully supplying that voice purring sensuously, a faceless avatar dropping to his knees in front of Alastor, soft sighs and breathy gasps and gentle croons of "dear listener" .
Alastor bit his lip and massaged his temples. He had never been this affected by a mere voice before. It was juvenile, ridiculous, unbecoming—
He needed a cold shower.
But the rush of freezing water might be too much. What he really needed was a moment to gather himself, and washing his face was the best course of action he could come up with at that point.
Alastor staggered towards the door of his tiny bathroom, wrenched the knob, and barged inside. Fumbling for the dials on his ancient porcelain sink, Alastor let out a sigh at the first splash of water against his face. Then, impulsively, he put on a bit of cleanser into his skin. The repetitive motions were calming and he had almost put the whole thing from his mind — until his phone chimed. Alastor ignored it for a moment in favour of wiping the water from his face and changing into his pyjamas.
New Comment on “How to make someone like you”
@TemptationPodcast 5 minutes ago
sooooo @TwistedMinds see something you like? ;)
Alastor snorted, typing out a reply. If this faceless account wanted to play, he could certainly rise to the challenge. And so, he hit send on the most recent reply in their chain.
@TwistedMinds just now
Hmmmm it did work as a sleep aid. I nodded off a bit in the middle there.
He flicked to another comment thread, responding to the kind messages his supporters had left before another ping caught his eye:
@TemptationPodcast just now
funny, i had the same comment about your videos. seriously, do you always talk like you have a thesaurus shoved up your ass?
Alastor sank into his bed with a smile. A warm kind of feeling settled in his chest as he effortlessly bantered with this faceless account.
@TwistedMinds 6 minutes ago
Now, now, my ass is remarkably book free, the last time I checked. But that aside, I do love how you edit your videos. It’s so cute when you misalign your cuts. P.S.: Star wipes? Really?@TemptationPodcast 5 minutes ago
you HEATHEN. the star wipes are IRONIC.
@TemptationPodcast 4 minutes ago
and besides, you need a lesson in youtube. star wipes are a piece of HISTORY
@TwistedMinds 3 minutes ago
Yes. And they should have stayed history.
Alastor laughed as TemptationPodcast responded with simply a middle finger and a heart. It was oddly endearing and perfectly encapsulated how the account’s comments all straddled a fine line between being rude and flirtatious. Alastor wasn’t really sure what side of the line they were on and, not wanting to make a fool of himself, decided to stick to his insulting nature for now.
Of course, the flirty tone from Temptation could just be the channel’s brand image. He probably interacted with all of his fans like this. Alastor would have to look into that to confirm his theory.
But despite the uncertainty, Alastor found himself having… fun. Possibly the most fun he’d had in a long while.
His eyes slid over to the clock and he cursed. It was late. Well, technically early? Either way, it was far too late of an hour for him to be awake. After he put his phone to sleep mode, he buried his face into the pillows and — even with the comment threads swirling around in his mind on repeat — he somehow willed himself to sleep.
—
Comments on TwistedMinds’ video titled “Why Hannibal Lecter would not have gotten away with murder”
@TemptationPodcast
GOD the way you say “henceforth”??? do you always sound like a dweeb, or is it just this video?
@TwistedMinds
Is your life truly so deprived of conversation partners with an adequate lexicon that you resort to insulting me?
@TemptationPodcast
peace and love, but you sound like you got your lunch money stolen a lot in high school
@TwistedMinds
How hurtful. And here I thought we had quite the blossoming friendship.
@TemptationPodcast
nah, i can’t be seen with you or else i won’t make the cheerleading squad
@TwistedMinds
Pity. The squad always needs one ugly member and you would have fit the bill.
—
Comments on TemptationPodcast’s video titled “Top mistakes people make on a date and how to avoid them”
@TwistedMinds
And you honestly expect us to believe that this date of yours left you sitting in a donut shop at three in the morning while you were plastered? What a cad.
@TemptationPodcast
yeah… lessons were learned. but i’m sure you would have tucked me in nice and tight with a cup of water and everything, huh, hot stuff? ;)
@TwistedMinds
If those are your standards for a boyfriend, I am very afraid for your safety.
@TemptationPodcast
awwwww are you gonna be my knight in shining corduroy? you sound like you wear corduroy. and sweater vests. and probably one of those dweeby little bowties
@TwistedMinds
…how did you get a look inside my closet?
@TemptationPodcast
i was RIGHT???!?!?!
—
Comments on TemptationPodcast's video titled “How to ruin a guy’s life in 5 easy steps”
@TwistedMinds
In the grand scheme of things, this revenge scheme was remarkably petty and quite short-minded. Are you sure you're not secretly a teenage girl?@TemptationPodcast
nope, i'm 100 percent hunky 6 foot 7 beefcake last time i checked@TwistedMinds
And I am the Axe-Man of New Orleans.@TemptationPodcast
looking good for your age then, gorgeous ;) but it's true! to prove it to you i’ll finally do my long-awaited face reveal just for you: https://i.imgur.com/HFKr0nq.png@TwistedMinds
Pardon me if I remain unconvinced by your paltry "evidence". Are you going to tell me we need to steal the declaration of independence next? Or perhaps regale me with the unbearable weight of your massive talent?@TemptationPodcast
there's something else i have that has an unbearable weight ;))))@TwistedMinds
Your ego?@TemptationPodcast
.........
—
The coffee shop felt like the only reprieve Alastor could get from the constant battle online. Not that it was anything particularly strenuous, no. The whole affair was more akin to a pleasant natured bout of verbal chess. But it certainly was distracting.
He was supposed to have this video done and edited last night, but it still had several images that needed to be incorporated and synced among other bits of research. At Eden’s, at least, he had to put his damn phone away and work. He couldn’t risk having his profile open to constantly refresh his comments. And so, it was just him, his research, and a beautiful blond barista — err, blonde coffee. Yes. Perfect.
After he ordered his usual, he opened his laptop and drowned himself in his long to-do list. Today’s video needed editing, and the one for next week needed some finishing touches on the script. But every single thing kept bringing his mind right back to his little tête-à-tête with TemptationPodcast. His mind happily wandered away from his research and dwelled instead on the swooping rise and fall of TemptationPodcast’s breathy sighs.
Alastor recounted their spars in the comment sections, staring out the window and humming to himself like a besotted teenager. He was distracted enough that he failed to notice the feather-light approach of his angel of mercy, coffee in hand.
“Cappuccinoooooo… oh.” Lucy’s voice trailed off into a disgusted twist. “That’s… uh, graphic.”
Spread out on Alastor’s table were the case notes and snapshots of the murder scene for the video he was working on — or was supposed to be working on before he had gotten distracted like some lovesick puppy. Casually, he tucked the more gruesome ones out of sight and made a spot on the table for the coffee. He rarely cared about exposing a stranger to such horrors, but for some reason, he wanted to appear normal to Lucy.
He hoped acting casual about it would help him smooth over the situation. “Hmm, oh, this? Hardly. Just a spot of light reading.”
However, instead of placing his drink on the offered space, Lucy insisted on handing it directly to Alastor. As their fingers made their routine brush, Alastor’s heart unwound itself and tripped over its own laces.
A surge of guilt flared at the feeling. He’d been completely preoccupied with the combative flirtations of some faceless YouTube account this past week. Yet Lucy was right here and so achingly perfect, and who even knew what TemptationPodcast was like in real life?
But Lucy had never been anything but sweet, kind, and oh — Alastor needed to get these damned distracting feelings under control or risk becoming a bumbling fool.
Coffee now successfully transferred, Lucy lingered instead of turning to leave.
“Whatcha workin on? School project?” Lucy smiled, but it didn’t reach the tiredness in his eyes.
“Something like that,” Alastor deflected automatically.
Lucy wavered on his feet, clearly stuck between wanting to say something and careful glances at the shop counter. The silence stretched on a blip too long, and then simultaneously, they both asked:
“What are you studying—” “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Lucy blinked rapidly, taken aback by Alastor’s question.
“You look exhausted,” Alastor clarified. He tucked his coffee between his hands, holding it close to his chest so he wouldn’t be tempted to fidget.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. I am.” Lucy laughed gently and rubbed at one of his eyes. “Remember how I submitted a request to have a weekend off and it got denied? Well, after enough begging I managed to swap shifts with a few of my colleagues to clear my calendar. But it means I’ve been working opening and closing shifts for five days back-to-back now. I’m wiped.”
Alastor inwardly cursed at himself for not coming into the coffee shop for the past two days, then asked, “Isn’t that illegal?”
“Well, yeah. But I’ve brought it on myself. It’s fine, really.” Lucy smiled softly.
“So you’re not working this weekend then?” Alastor really hoped his disappointment didn’t seep into his words.
“Nope! I’ve got Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all off. I can’t wait. But honestly, I’m kind of just looking forward to having a nap—” A bell chimed from the counter, and Lucy startled. “Oh, I gotta go.”
As Lucy bounced off to serve the next customer, Alastor felt his own smile falter. He’d have to find somewhere else to go for coffee this weekend, it seemed. If he worked from home, he’d just get sucked further into the flame war with TemptationPodcast.
With a heavy sigh, he glanced down at the drink tucked against his chest.
There was a little heart drawn in the foam.
Alastor could feel a flush creeping up his neck. No, not here. He couldn’t start blushing like a lovesick fool; the heart meant nothing! Surely Lucy did this on everyone’s cups — or maybe it was a misshapen leaf. He took a vicious swig to destroy the evidence, the coffee burning his tongue.
When he slammed his mug back onto the table, the heart still persisted.
What was he going to do about this? Alastor planted his face in his hands, inhaling deeply. It was just coffee foam. It meant nothing. Besides, Lucy didn’t like him. Why would he? Alastor was just a customer. It meant nothing. For fuck’s sake, he was just doing his job, It really, truly meant nothing—
A little ding of a new email pulled him out of his thoughts.
He slowly pulled his hands from his face and opened up his emails. He frowned when he read the subject and clicked it open.
Subject: You’re Invited to VidCon!
Hi TwistedMinds,Congratulations on recently surpassing 100,000 subscribers and receiving your Silver Play button!
Your creativity and influence in the YouTube community has truly made a mark, and we are thrilled to extend a special invitation for you to join us at our upcoming event!
VidCon is set to be an extraordinary gathering, bringing together creators, fans, and industry professionals for an unforgettable experience. Here are the event’s details…
Alastor skimmed the email, initially planning on dismissing it. Going to any sort of event filled with other YouTubers and fans who might recognise his voice would be a massive risk. Even if Rosie and Mimzy went every year religiously, and always raved about how much fun they had, and needled him for months about how he should join them the next time, and how much he would enjoy the jazz bar in the hotel and all the free drinks…
Then, he saw the dates.
It was this weekend.
He scowled. What kind of event organiser would invite a guest so last minute? Was it because he only hit 100,000 recently? It must have been the cut-off point for invitees. He was sorely tempted to decline because of their disorganisation.
But…
He glanced across the cafe to Lucy, who was laughing behind the counter with one of his colleagues.
It was this weekend. The weekend that Lucy was going to be away from Eden’s, and god knew if Alastor didn’t make plans fast, he might end up spending his weekend editing in a hellhole like Starbucks.
Plus, Rosie and Mimzy would be there…
Opening a new tab, he started looking at last minute flights and tried to convince himself that this was a good idea.
—
VidCon was a terrible idea.
It was loud. Crowded. There were screaming children everywhere.
But worst of all, Alastor was putting his carefully hidden identity at risk.
He thought it would be easy to fly under the radar at VidCon. He’d come prepared with a soft black face mask to cover the bottom half of his face and a plan to avoid talking to anyone other than his friends. As long as he didn’t mention his channel, no one would know who he was.
But when he went to registration to pick up his lanyard, there, dangling at the bottom of it, was a huge plastic purple card with the word “CREATOR” in blinding white letters. Even worse, right above it was a little white box.
A white box for him to write his channel name in.
He’d tried arguing with the staff about filling it in. They insisted, and not only did he need to fill it in or risk getting kicked out, he’d also have to wear it all weekend and have it visible to enter panel rooms.
He wasn’t prepared for this. Because this was all so sudden, he hadn’t spent any time researching what to expect at VidCon.
But he hadn’t dropped a month’s worth of rent on hotels and travel just to give up now.
His only option was to scribble his channel name so illegibly he’d just have to hope nobody could read it, and he tore off into the convention centre before the staff could ask him to rewrite it on a fresh one.
—
Luckily, his friends were able to distract him from his lanyard woes. Mimzy’s vlogging channel had taken off this year when she had switched to doing increasingly more ridiculous videos. Her most recent one, “I bought the $2,000 Dior face cream (so you don’t have to)”, had started with her winning a bet against another influencer so he had to pay for the damn thing, and ended with her using the gold-plated box it came in to replace the missing leg of her sofa. It was hilarious and controversial, and Alastor had loved every second of it.
So it was only natural that wherever she went at VidCon, Mimzy instantly became the centre of attention. Which suited Alastor just fine, because it meant he could hang back a few paces away and linger in relative obscurity with Rosie.
“Alastor darling, I’m so pleased you decided to join us this weekend.” Rosie smiled at him. “Have you perhaps had a chance to look at the itinerary? There’s a panel happening that I believe you might be interested in…”
He shook his head silently and leaned in to follow her perfectly manicured black nail as she tapped on a stage event in the schedule.
5:10PM – 5:50PM
The Big Reveal: TemptationPodcast IRL
SPOTLIGHT STAGE
Come watch TemptationPodcast’s exciting face reveal LIVE at VidCon during this saucy session where he’ll record an exclusive podcast episode and take questions from fans!
Alastor froze and he looked back at Rosie with wide eyes.
“You didn’t know he was here?” She cocked her head to the side, bemused. “You realise he’s a featured creator, right? His logo’s been everywhere.”
For someone known for his investigative skills, Alastor had certainly fallen short this week. How could he have not noticed that TemptationPodcast was going to be here after how public their online spats had been? Temper bubbling, his mouth twitched in annoyance behind his mask.
“Why would I go to that? I don’t care about whatever salacious drivel he has to say to his fans. It doesn’t concern me.”
Rosie hummed in response, and Alastor caught a girl with pink pigtails staring at him over Rosie’s shoulder. He snapped his mouth shut, remembering his plan to not speak in public at VidCon. Perhaps he had been a touch loud.
“Well, Mimzy and I are going.” Rosie decided and pocketed the pamphlet. “And you’re coming with us.”
—
Thousands of fans jostled into the auditorium, herded in like a flock of sheep. Alastor felt distinctly out of place. The fans were mostly women, and almost all were chittering excitedly about the upcoming reveal, throwing around rumours of what they thought ‘Lulu’ might look like and what kind of juicy story he’d drop at the event. It was like getting an eerie glimpse of the future — if Alastor ever chose to do his own face reveal one day. Perhaps his and Temptation’s fans weren’t all that dissimilar after all.
Once they breached the doors, Alastor made a bee-line for the first available seat in the shadiest corner at the very back of the room, but he was jerked back by the collar of his shirt.
“Nuh uh.” Mimzy shook her finger at him. “I didn’t bust my ass for a creator badge to sit at the back like a plebian. We’re sitting in the creator zone. Come on, handsome.”
Despite the sympathetic lilt of her head, Rosie looped her arm through Alastor’s elbow and dragged him all the way to the front — where to Alastor’s horror, there were only three seats available — and they were in the first row.
They squeezed in together, and Mimzy immediately struck up a conversation with the girl next to her. Knuckles white against the knees of his pressed slacks, Alastor started cataloguing the exits to the room and estimating how many seconds he’d need to dart out of here without being noticed. Rosie, ever observant, sighed and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“If it’s any consolation, he won’t know who you are,” she said. “Just act casual. It will be fine.”
With a rhythmic mechanical thunk, the lights in the auditorium switched off one by one, and a swell of excited screams bloomed up around him. Alastor winced as spotlights and flashing LEDs brought the stage to life, and lively music began blaring out of the stage speakers.
Then, he heard a voice that made his blood run cold.
“My dear people! Welcooome to… VidCon!”
Shit.
“Are you ready for an exciting face reveal tonight? Because I sure am.”
The only other person, besides Rosie and Mimzy, who knew his face was —
“I’m your host, Vox — yes, from VoxTek Enterprises, the premiere source for all of your creator needs. From vlogging cameras, to streaming set-ups, to influencer management, we have it all. Trust us with your content.”
Alastor felt sick. The one person he didn’t want to see was about to share the same stage with the one person he desperately did—
“Now, prepare to give our special guest a warm welcome…”
Vox’s eyes landed on Alastor. He seemed to pause for a second before his voice dropped to a suggestive, foreboding drawl.
“And let’s see what other surprises this show has in store for us tonight.”
With a smirk, Vox gestured to the curtain behind him with a flourish of his arm.
“Please welcome… TemptationPodcast!”
The screams in the auditorium erupted, cries of Lulu deafening as the curtains parted and revealed…
Lucy?
Wait — was that really the Lucy he knew? From the coffee shop?
Alastor was frozen. How was this possible? As a man who made his career on investigating mysteries, how had he never put the dots together? Was this some sort of elaborate prank? There was no way that Lucy was Lulu from TemptationPodcast.
“Sooooo, hey guys.” Lucy sounded as self assured as ever, and Alastor felt a flutter of recognition. It was without a shadow of a doubt Lucy. His Lucy.
“Well, this is my face!” Lucy laughed good naturedly and struck up his showman’s demeanour once more. He leaned into the microphone with a suave grin and purred in his iconic voice, “How are you all doing tonight, my dear listeners?”
Oh.
There it was. The switch between the two voices — the duality of Lucy — no, Lulu? It really was him. While his brain was telling him he needed to get out of here before he was spotted sitting in the front row like a damn fangirl, he also wanted — no, needed to hear Lucy’s voice one more time just to be certain…
Although the floor of the room seemed to be wavering beneath him, Alastor was rooted in place, transfixed on the two on the stage. One, awash with painful history, the other aglow with the sunshine Alastor had come to adore. Lucy seemed nervous, bouncing his leg, but smiling and laughing coquettishly in response to Vox's frankly terrible attempts at jokes.
Alastor pitied him in that regard.
Vox shot Lucy a grin like a greasy shark, lip curling back over his teeth. "So. Lulu. Can I call ya that?"
"Haha, well, Vox, only my fans call me that. So, you tell me."
"Uh huh. Anyway, Lulu, happy face reveal. Now, let’s get straight to the question that everyone in this audience is dying to know. What's the deal between you and TwistedMinds? You guys have been high key obsessed with each other. We’ve all seen the edits, haven’t we, chat?"
The auditorium burst into a chorus of delighted cheers, intrigued ‘oooh’s, and a few prominent heckling of ‘hell yeah, I have!’ and ‘I made four!’ cutting through the noise.
“Hah, well, I didn’t think that would be the first question! Well, it’s pretty simple. I think he’s cute, and I have a crush, so I’ve been flirting with him.” Lucy turned to the audience with a charming smile. “This isn’t news to anyone, right, chat? Next question!”
The screams in the room were deafening. Alastor’s heart slammed against his ribcage, begging for release.
Vox immediately asked the question in Alastor’s mind.
“Cute, huh? So, have you seen him? Do you know what he looks like?”
“Uh.” Lucy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he’s a faceless YouTuber. So obviously not. But I’ve been enjoying talking to him, and I like his videos. Anyway, I have a new book coming out that I wanted to talk about—”
Vox barrelled onwards, “You know, TwistedMinds and I used to be pretty close, back in the day. I taught him everything he knows.”
Lucy’s eyes flicked away from Vox and began roving the audience, perhaps searching for some sort of conversational exit. And then he froze, visibly stiffening in his seat.
And then those perfect blue eyes met Alastor’s and glued him to his seat. Alastor felt his stomach lurch.
Vox continued, “In fact, I might just be the only person who knows who he truly is. Maybe I could let you in on his secret…”
No.
No, no, no. Not like this.
Alastor’s vision began to swim.
Lucy lifted his microphone back to his mouth: “How about we keep this show on topic, Vox? As I said before, I have a new book coming out that I’m really excited to share with you all!”
“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you who TwistedMinds is backstage after this.” He turned back to the audience with a smirk. “Or maybe, if you guys all scream loud enough right now, I might reveal it at the end of the show!”
The sheer noise in the room was so loud the vibrations shook through Alastor’s chest. Fans were leaping to their feet, standing on chairs, throwing their hands in the air, and Alastor couldn’t breathe. He had to leave. He had barely weathered Vox’s caprices the last time. He needed to get out, he needed to get out, he needed to get out—
—
Despite the autumnal rain coming down in sheets, Alastor slammed open the doors to the Creator-only patio where he slowed his frantic jog to an uneasy walk. He looked around, spinning on his heel as he scanned the small space to ensure he was on his own — not that he expected to see many influencers risking ruining their hair or outfits under these grisly skies. The air was thick with the smell of rain-kissed earth and he hoped against hope that here, nobody would witness his breakdown.
Shakily, he tore off his face mask and cupped his hands around his lighter and cigarette. Under the bruising crush of the rain, his hands were trembling too hard to produce a spark.
Vox threatening to reveal his identity to thousands of fans should have felt world-ending to him, but all he could think about was Lucy.
His Lucy.
His Lucy was one and the same as TemptationPodcast. Lucy’s voice, purring sensual stories, recounting illicit tales, those perfect lips and blue eyes half lidded—
Temptation, no, Lucy, had been flirting with TwistedMinds — him — and all this time, Alastor had been replying rudely, rebuffing his advances like a blasted fool. He had months of comment threads to go through and hyper analyse now. He needed to see how badly he blundered, to see if there was any way to walk this back—
Hands shaking, he swapped his soaked cigarette and lighter for his phone, and tapped open his YouTube account, intending on checking his notifications. Instead, a Short on the front page caught his attention, titled “TemptationPodcast x TwistedMinds compilation”.
He tapped it open - and struck paydirt.
Lucy’s fans had gone above and beyond, splicing clips together from months back into edits that would have made a trained investigator sit up and take notice. It was a woven tapestry of Lucy’s warm, honeyed voice interspersed with commentary in bubblegum pink text. Honestly, it was adorable and Alastor found himself smiling a bit in spite of the gravity of the situation.
“So there’s this guy right?” Lucy sighed, sounding lovelorn, “and he’s just so— augh you know?”
The text splashed up on the screen that oh yes, they did know and that Lucy getting tongue tied was adorable.
Alastor couldn’t help but agree.
The next clip rolled. “Anyway, this guy, right? He’s so focused and, like, he acts so mysterious, like he has layers and layers of secrets?” Lucy sighed, a pink heart border filling the screen and text overlaying his words. “But like, he seems lonely sometimes. And I can fix that. Fix him. But maybe I just like a project, huh, ladies?”
The editor had just put a winking face there and Alastor felt his breath stall. The next clip rolled.
“Oh, you guys are insatiable! Anyway, the guy update! I was right! He is super smart. I was able to talk to him and get this: he unironically said ‘perchance’ in conversation.” The video cut to screenshots of the comment chains between them, where Alastor had indeed used ‘perchance’ in a reply, with text from the editor saying ‘TwistedMinds is Lulu’s crush confirmed?!? ’ in pink bubbly letters next to it.
“What a nerd, am I right?” Lucy's voice had no real malice and softened for a moment as he murmured, “What a cute nerd.”
Alastor’s mind was reeling, piecing things together, yet he still found himself paddling around in denial. Surely, plenty of people said ‘perchance’. He could have been talking about anyone, right?
The video marched ever onward. “I stayed up all night watching his videos and I’m wiped! True crime is not for the faint of heart. I had to sleep with the lights on, but his voice has me weak in the knees, chat.” A longing sigh. “It’s like this old timey radio voice, kinda? And it's like velvet. Velvet and stainless steel. God, I hate that voice so much. It is driving me insane.” There was a long inhale and a gutted whine. “I would literally give my left nipple to hear that voice whisper in my ear while I—”
The editor had written ‘we know, Lulu’ on the screen and Alastor snorted. Okay. That was definitely him Lucy was talking about.
Alastor sat, stunned for a moment as the cheerful outro music played and the glitter heart screen cast his face in a fuchsia glow.
How many times had he convinced himself these flutters in his chest were just passing internal tremors? How many times had he inadvertently stood in the way of this thing, shining with potential that the universe had placed in his lap?
But Lucy liked TwistedMinds — not Alastor. Would he still be interested in TwistedMinds if he found out Alastor was the face behind the account? What if Lucy was only attracted to the mystery of who he could be, and not the reality of who he was?
Surely if Lucy had found Alastor attractive, he would have said something in the coffee shop by now, rather than chasing after some faceless account that had been nothing but rude to him for months. And what if it had all been a game just to farm engagement, and the confession on stage had just been empty fanservice?
Did Lucy have some ulterior motive, just like Vox had?
No, he wouldn’t. He was good, kind, clever, funny. Alastor was a fool for even allowing Vox into the same thought as Lucy. They were in entirely different leagues.
He was starting to spiral, racking his mind for the solution that was just out of reach. Raindrops slid down the screen of his phone in holographic rivulets, blurring the video as it automatically replayed on a loop.
What should he do? He was woefully inexperienced in the romance department and his heart was pounding like a war drum. He barely registered the flurry of notifications causing his phone to ding like the bells of Notre Dame, all of them buzzing with the same fervent anticipation that was coursing through his veins.
Mimzy: Hon, where are you??
Mimzy: The panel is over.
Mimzy: Don’t make me march around this convention centre looking for you. I’m wearing new heels and I haven’t broken them in yet.Rosie: I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Vox would be hosting that panel. He didn’t reveal anything in the end. Temptation kept it on topic. Are you okay?
Mimzy: Bitch, answer your phone!!
Then, the haze of rain seemed to pause just above him. Alastor looked up from his phone to see an umbrella — and when he looked down, he saw him.
Lucy.
He was right there, looking like an angel under his bright red apple-printed umbrella, glowing at the edges with the golden lamp light around him.
The tension that had been rolling in his gut was now aflutter, and something new, light, and tremulous settled behind his sternum and made his heart race. His breath caught as their eyes met.
He breathed Lucy’s name like a prayer, inaudible over the rush of blood in his ears, the flutter of his heart, and his whirling thoughts.
Lucy tilted his chin up to him, eyes meeting his, glinting with recognition and a spark of something else playful and warm. “Alastor! I didn’t know you would be here.”
Alastor swallowed to compose himself before speaking. “What, on the patio or at VidCon?”
“Well, both.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly expect to see you here either, Lucy.”
His nose wrinkled. “Oh, shit. It’s Lucifer actually. The badge maker was broken when I first started and I just never changed it.”
“Lucifer.” Alastor tasted the syllables of his name slowly, savouring the way they rolled off his tongue like a song. Lucifer. It was oddly fitting. The angel of the morning star, brilliant and golden, was the perfect namesake for the divine creature that stood before him, looking so small and sweet under that stupid umbrella.
Lucifer shot Alastor a fingergun with his free hand. “That’s my name! Don’t wear it out.”
Alastor smiled down at Lucifer. His mind was reeling, but he was doing his best to stay sane, and Lucifer’s presence was both a balm and a curse. Lucifer and TemptationPodcast, two sides of the same scintillating coin, rotating as it fell headlong into Alastor’s hand.
Now Alastor knew who Lucifer was, both sides of him — but Lucifer didn’t know his alter ego. He was just Alastor from the coffee shop, attending VidCon as a fan.
Should he tell him? Lucifer’s blue eyes sparkled up at him, crinkling at the corners like they shared a secret. Alastor could only imagine how crushed he’d be when he told him that he was the disappointing reality behind TwistedMinds.
No. Some secrets had to stay that way.
Subtly, he tucked his traitorous lanyard away to hide between his jacket and waistcoat.
“So, I didn’t know you were a Youtuber.” Alastor started carefully.
Lucifer chuckled at that, his eyes sparkling. “I tried to keep it on the downlow. I'm sure you understand.”
Alastor did. Of course he did.
TemptationPodcast had remained faceless for so long but now with that anonymity gone, even Eden’s might not be a safe haven anymore. And speaking of—
“Why do you work in a coffee shop? Surely you make enough money from AdSense to not need a part time job?” Alastor asked.
Lucifer smiled sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I said I like to get out of the house? It gets lonely making videos at home all the time.” His voice dropped in pitch and that grin slipped into a conspiratorial smirk. “Plus Eden’s has some really great regulars. And one in particular—”
Alastor tried to smile, but he could tell it wasn’t reaching his eyes. Instead, Vox’s offer to tell Lucifer the true identity of TwistedMinds lingered in his mind. Lucifer seemed to be genuinely trying to deflect and shut down the line of conversation on stage, and Alastor didn’t want to suspect he took him up on the offer… but he had to be certain.
“So did you get the scoop on TwistedMinds from Vox?”
Lucifer chuckled, eyes glowing in the dim grey light. “Damn, you really are quite the investigator, interrogating me like this. Not gonna lie; it’s a little hot.” He purred, and Alastor’s heart skipped a beat despite the gravity of the situation.
“But no. Vox is a dickhead. He completely derailed my face reveal. I don't care what he has to say. If TwistedMinds wants to stay anonymous, I’ll respect that even if Vox won’t… Oh, fuck. Speak of the devil.”
Lucifer raised a pale hand to point, and Alastor’s face morphed into a similar grimace.
Vox. Alastor was surprised the man even needed an umbrella — he was certain the water would just slide right off that greasy snake oil salesman. Nonetheless, there he was, only a few paces away, grinning like a shark who had just cornered his prey.
“Heya, Al! How’s your YouTube channel coming along these days? Did you finally twist your mind around how to work the editing software?”
Loathsome cockroach. Was he not satisfied with draining Alastor’s bank account? Did he also want to out him in front of the one good thing to come from this stupid VidCon?
“Hahaha, I’m kidding. With your setup, the equipment practically writes and edits your videos for you. Voxtek never disappoints. Hey, Lulu, you should know this too. Al here — and get this — is actually that TwistedMinds channel you've been beefing with! Isn’t that just hilarious? VidCon is so entertaining!"
Well, this was it.
He knew he shouldn’t have made the impulsive decision to come out here. Waste his money on plane tickets and hotels, all to just put himself in Vox’s crosshair. Alastor wanted to run away, to open up his phone and delete his whole channel, to somehow magically just not be here, and for all of this to have just been a bad dream. His legs refused to move, so he settled for squeezing his eyes shut instead.
He couldn’t bear to see the dawning realisation and disappointment flit across Lucifer’s face. That TwistedMinds had just been a regular old customer at his coffee shop this entire time and nobody particularly interesting or exciting…
Or perhaps Lucifer’s expression would sour as he remembered all the awful names that TwistedMinds had called him over the months: insipid, ugly, egotistical, and not to mention all the insults he’d hurled at his content and editing… He’d never look at Alastor the same again.
Alastor had built his career on finding that single piece of information that would unravel an entire person’s hidden identity, and now, it was happening to him.
And Lucifer… laughed.
“Oh, I already knew.”
Alastor’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at Lucifer in shock.
Lucifer stepped forward, dragging Alastor and the umbrella forward with him. “And unlike some people, I know how to respect people’s boundaries and privacy.”
Vox was spluttering, stammering out a reply, but Alastor and Lucifer’s attention was drawn by a commotion from the other side of the rain-drenched patio.
Mimzy, bless her, had Vox’s associate — Velvet something? Valentine? (whichever one the short one with the obnoxious hair was) — by the pigtails, and Rosie, his eternal saviour, shot him a wink as she dangled a confiscated pink phone just out of reach.
Alastor could hear the girl caterwauling from here: “But TwistedMinds has been exposed! This would have netted us millions of views! Come on. Let go of me—”
“You won’t be recording anything, sweetheart,” Rosie tutted.
Mimzy growled, “Especially after I put your damn phone in the fucking blender!”
Vox grimaced, stalking back to where Velvette was gnashing her teeth at Mimzy in vain.
“Idiots. All of you.” Vox didn’t look back as he left the patio, Mimzy and Rosie hauling Velvette back inside and leaving the two blessedly alone.
Lucifer blinked. Then, they were both laughing, warm and buttery affection flooding the air between them.
“Remind me to never get on those ladies’ bad side!”
Alastor snorted. “Oh, don’t even worry about them. They’re harmless. Mostly.”
Lucifer’s laughter tapered off and he cracked a lopsided grin that had Alastor's heart flopping about in his chest uselessly. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the intensifying rain, and Alastor shuffled closer, safely ensconced in the security of Lucifer’s umbrella.
“That aside… how long have you known?”
Lucifer smiled wryly. “Since the first day you stopped by Eden’s. You had your research out and your channel open on your screen when I brought your coffee over.”
That— that was at least nine months ago.
Alastor inwardly groaned. How could he have been so careless? And from the very start? “I am such an idiot.”
Lucifer tittered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And not very observant. I’ve been dropping really heavy hints for at least a month. Did you even look at your coffee foam before drinking it?”
Alastor groaned outwardly this time, dragging a wet hand down his face. “I am mortified. This has to be one of the most humbling days of my life.”
Lucifer smiled, tilting his head and purring in that Temptation voice, “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Alastor snorted. “Thank you for that.”
Lucifer brought a hand up to cup Alastor’s cheek in his palm. It was heavenly, the warm brush of his thumb as he smeared an errant raindrop away. It felt like flames dancing across the surface of his skin, and Alastor felt his stomach do a funny little lurch.
“I thought I might scare you off if I said something before you were ready. I know how important anonymity can be for people like us,” Lucifer murmured.
“And here I was beating myself up for harbouring feelings for a faceless YouTuber and my barista at the same time,” Alastor admitted quietly. “What a fool I was.”
The moment stretched, all petrichor and golden, and Alastor couldn’t tell who leaned in first, but their lips were slotted together in the next instant and all he could think was how Lucifer did taste like coffee after all. Coffee and warm honeyed apple and a bitter tang of the rainwater still falling in fat droplets from their hair.
Their lips worked against each other, yielding and pressing, pushing and pulling like the tide, rising up to meet each other effortlessly. It was everything Alastor had ever craved. He knew without a shred of a doubt that he wanted more of this. He wanted to live, wake, sleep, and die with a kiss from Lucifer’s perfect lips.
Lucifer moved first, stepping back and looking at Alastor with a sidelong, cocky grin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Alastor had no words, but he certainly felt the same. This was far overdue. He nodded mutely, eyes still riveted to Lucifer’s puffy, pink lips. They looked like ripe fruit, ready to be plucked from the tree of forbidden fruit and he was famished.
They were leaning in again when a booming clap of thunder made both of them jump and spring apart. Lucifer laughed and then Alastor was laughing and they were both there in this shimmery haze of their newfound whatever-this-was and Alastor felt ten feet tall and bulletproof.
Lucifer smiled up at him as he ran a finger along Alastor’s cheek again and made a show of shaking the water from it. He grinned and held out a hand.
“So, do you wanna come to my hotel room to um — dry off?” Lucifer let the intent in those words hang heavy between them, but he needn't have done so. Alastor may not have been that observant, but he knew an invitation when he heard one.
And as Alastor’s tan, spindly fingers wound between Lucifer’s pale, perfect ones, he knew he was falling headlong.
How could Alastor ever refuse Temptation itself?