#I don’t remember their booth name but they had a small photo book to the side full of older art they were selling for 5$

[barnabyboppins]

So far I’ve commissioned or inquired about two of my friends, @loz-obsessed-person-i-guess, and I’ve bought like 9 posters, keychains or postcards from cool artists and poeple I’ve met and I want to keep this train going

My favourite part of all of these has been talking with every single person I’ve purchased from (online or in person) like bro it makes me really giddy

[ch3rriewine]

Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

[ktenvs3000w24]

Discovering Citizen Science

I have mentioned in previous blog posts that one of the best decisions I have made in the last 5 years was to get involved in my local mycological society. Foray NL is a not for profit collaborative group that involves folks from a variety of backgrounds including mycologists, lichenologists, indigenous partners, students and citizen scientists. All of these people get together once a year to collect, analyze, identify, photograph, and catalogue mushroom and lichen species from across Newfoundland. Each year new species are discovered, species that have never been collected before or in some cases never been identified before. There are so many different kinds of mushrooms and lichens. Lichen identification by Foray NL has helped to play a part in conservation efforts here in Newfoundland. It makes me feel like we are making a small but meaningful difference in the world.  It is truly fascinating that despite the tens of thousands of specimens collected over the 20 years Foray NL has been active, we still have only grazed the surface of biological variety. This element of discovery really ignited a curiosity in me that has led to a new career path, and has helped me discover a joy in continued studies as an adult (such as this course!) 

Citizen science is about asking questions and observing. Check out this mushroom house party! What kind of music do you think they are listening to?

In 2019 when I attended my first Foray NL three day event. I was initially a bit nervous, but interested in learning more about mushrooms as an amateur forager. It fascinated me to discover that there are edible food sources wherever we go. Knowing what to eat was just a matter of researching a bit more about plant and fungi biology. As a forager I wanted to know what else I could eat aside from the wild berries, Labrador tea, and plethora of edible backyard weeds. I wanted to dive head first into the woods and talk to the people that knew about wild food sources, and how not to die while eating mushrooms. What I didn’t expect was a welcoming, interesting community of people who were maybe a bit eccentric, but incredibly knowledgeable, funny, caring and ready to take on the world on mushroom at a time. I don’t remember what I was expecting, but when I stepped into the “mush-room” I was blown away. The “mush-room” is a large makeshift laboratory where all the species of mushrooms that have been collected over the weekend are laid out for identification on tables. There were piles of books for identification, a photography booth, microscopes, dehydrators and tables and tables of unique fungi and lichens. The variety was astounding to someone who really only knew about wild chanterelles. I went past each specimen taking in their names, features and examining their qualities. I observed their spores on microscope slides, witnessed bio-luminescence in the photo room, and along the way learned so much from each person I spoke with. It was fun, and I helped to contribute to the collection, my role even had a name - citizen scientist. This slow building of knowledge has been incredibly rewarding and the yearly event is something I continue to look forward to. My hope is that by sharing my story other folks will reach out to similar organizations and seek out the knowledge that lingers there. You too can be a citizen scientist!

Folks at Foray NL learning about how to identify mushrooms.

The "Mush-Room" identification tables at Foray NL

One specimen of identified mushrooms on the table.

A bolete! From the tables, 2023.

Science! Is for everyone!

My favourite part, prepping and eating a foraged fungi feast for everyone at Foray NL to enjoy after a day in the woods collecting specimens.

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[dreamescapeswriting]

Guardian Angel ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader

GENRE: College AU, enemies to lovers, bully to lover, Tsundere bully to lover

A.N: Thank you so much for the creative freedom hunny and I hope that this is okay for you

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE BETWEEN READER AND ANOTHER CHARACTER IN THE FIC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running late as always you pushed the door open to your Criminology class where everyone turned to stare at you, nothing new about that. They always stared. But you didn't bother to question why they were staring this time, it was normally because you were late or that they just simply wanted to make you uncomfortable. It was obvious that no one seemed to like you, not even the tutor that taught the class. The door opened again behind you and before you even had a chance to move a voice rang out loudly causing more people to look up,

"Move, dweeb." You shuffled to the side letting him go by and you felt your stomach churn as you saw him. Dressed in his usual leather jacket, biking gloves and black jeans he sauntered across the floor towards his desk. His long black hair was thrown into a bun as he mumbled asking people to move as he got to his row. Girls staring the entire time as he dragged the chair out and sat down, making as much noise as possible because he loved the attention he got. 

"Jeon Jungkook. Reason for being late?" Your tutor questioned as you slowly made your way over to your desk, mentally thanking Jungkook's power to take attention away from everyone else so that you could get away with being late. 

"Bike broke down on the way. Stopped to fix it." He murmured as he began taking out his book from his bag, waiting for the class to continue on. As if that was a valid excuse the tutor nodded turning her attention to you as she remembered that you were late. Her hands rested on her hips as she tapped her foot staring at you, her long blond hair was left down and she wore a black pencil skirt with a white dress shirt, the top buttons open so that she could show off her fake tits. 

"Miss Y/l/n." A coldness ran through your body as you realised you weren't out of the woods yet and you were about to get punished for being late. If it wasn't bad enough you were already late because you'd slept through all of your alarms you knew you were going to end up late for work that night because being late with Miss Nolty always meant detention.

"Give me an excuse, which is it this time? Your dog turned off your alarm, your roommate locked you out? You couldn't find the room..." You ignored the tutor as you kept your head down, the entire class of around 30 students all joining in with her but Jungkook watched as he could sense you were growing uncomfortable. Blood boiling as he watched everyone laughing along, coming up with more excuses he sighed to himself, slamming his hand onto the table gaining the attention of the girl sitting beside him who was trying to study.

"She was with me." Heads shot over in Jungkook's direction as he stared at the tutor who looked heartbroken at the mere thought of you being alone with Jungkook. It was no secret that the college tutor had her way when it came to male students, sleeping with anyone she found attractive. Miss Nolty folded her hands over her chest covering herself up for the first time ever,

"With you?" The tutor questioned as she turned all of her attention back onto him, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change as everyone seemed shocked to learn Jungkook had been with you. The girls in your glass began glaring at you while the guys all seemed to smirk with one another, staring over at you with hunger in their eyes.

"Well...I'll see you both in detention tonight. Tardiness is not tolerated in my classroom." She snapped at Jungkook, ranting on about how this would never work in a workplace but you drowned her out, doing independent studying from the book that was in front of you. 

Why did Jungkook have to do that? He hated you more than anyone else in the course did so why did he feel the need to suddenly stand up for you in front of the tutor and everyone in the classroom. He'd probably just made your life ten times worse than it already way in the course. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So...Are you fucking him?" A voice whispered from the left side of you, glancing over you saw one of the jocks staring at you and chewing on some gum. He was wearing a large hoodie with the college logo on the front, his hair was receding at the front and it looked as though he'd probably be bald before he turned 30.

"What? Who?" You frowned forgetting for a moment what Jungkook had said as you looked at the jock, you didn't even know his name and you were pretty sure he didn't know yours either.  

"Guk. Are you fucking him?" You laughed at him turning your head away as you shook it violently, there was nothing on this planet that would make you even want to be nice to Jungkook never mind sleep with him. 

You'd lived beside him for years and he'd always been a dick to you, throughout high school and college. You were pretty sure he'd only joined the Criminology course just so that he could torture for a few more years, everything was some sort of sick and twisted game to him.

"So...You're not? You're single?" A bell went off inside of you as you could sense where this conversation was going to go, he was going to ask you out and it was going to be some kind of prank so you ignored him trying to keep your eyes on the page. 

"I just...I need someone to study with and I don't want to ask anyone else." He continued to whisper watching you the entire time, normally you were great at blocking everyone out but today you couldn't. 

"I'll never bother you again...It's just for the test?" Biting down on your lip you suddenly turned to look at him, tears threatening to well up in your eyes but you didn't let them. 

"Why? So you can show up with all of your friends and laugh at me? Or are you just going to not come and laugh about it the next day?" Something broke inside of you as you snapped at him, ignoring the strange looks you were gaining from those around you. 

"Or did Jungkook put you up to it?" You shook your head laughing at the thought of it but the guy shook his head, 

"No. I'm in serious need of help...Please, I know you work at Jo's. I can meet you there?" The desperation in his voice was hard to fake so you nodded at him, agreeing that you'd meet him there. 

"I have a shift. I finish at 6 tonight." You mumbled before going back to reading from the book as the guy slid a piece of paper in front of you. 

Seongwa 07387178916 in case I'm late x

Sliding it into your book you tried to ignore the kiss on the end and focus on your reading instead of the panic that was bubbling up inside of you about that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The apron looks cute," Seongwa said as you sat down across from him in one of the booths, you looked down at your uniform and gave him a fake smile. The uniform was too revealing for your liking, a short dress combo with a pink frilly apron to tie it all together with. 

"It's gross and misogynistic." You grumbled taking out your book from your bag and flipping it open to the chapter the test was going to be on. All about serial killers and their upbringing, it was a debate based on if serial killers could be caught in their youth, which signs could help determine them. 

"I was just struggling with some of the terms, I know that frequently they're bed wetters from bad homes but what else?" He questioned watching you as your eyes skimmed over the book in front of you. 

As you were about to answer him the door opened in the store and Jungkook walked in, you saw him walking over to the table and order a drink. The same drink he got every time he came into the small diner you worked it, not that he ever came in when you were working. Only when you'd finished a shift, you'd catch him as you were leaving. 

"There are many different factors, bedwetting and bad home lives are the main ones but not everyone with those turns out to be a murderer." You mumbled as you ran your highlighter over a section of the book he could use, 

"It has all of the factors that most of the killers share." You pushed the book in front of him and he began reading, or at least you thought he was reading. 

"Look what we have," A voice called out making you look up from your phone, standing at your table was one of the girls in your class. Like Miss Nolty she had a large crush on Jungkook so you knew what was going to happen and you prepared yourself for the endless bombard of insults that were about to get thrown at you.

"The little slut going through the whole class," She smirked looking at you, Yeji, she was popular and pretty and bitchy. Everything that added up to a high school cliche. 

"Why are you sitting with my boyfriend?" She questioned as she sat down on Seongwa's lap, you looked down at the paper not wanting to make eye contact with her in case she suddenly turned you into stone. 

"He asked for help-"

"Babe. I was sitting here and she came up to me, like you said she's a stalker creep." Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as Seongwa spoke about you like that, 

"H-He asked for help studying, I was helping-" A stinging sensation raced across your face as you hissed out, holding your hand up to your cheek shocked that Yeji had slapped you like that or even slapped anyone like that. 

"That looked like it stung, here...Let me cool it down for you." Her voice was filled with fake pitty as she picked up a milkshake from the table beside yours and began slowly pouring it down onto your head and uniform. Everyone in the diner stood by and watched doing nothing as she smirked at you, 

"You have a little something," She threw a napkin at you and began giggling as Seongwa laughed loudly, snapping photos for everyone to see. You never should have agreed t helping him, you knew from the start that something was wrong with him suddenly asking you to help.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook's voice asked as he stood beside the table but no one turned to look at him, you just kept your head down as the milkshake seeped into your apron not daring to move in case he was in on it too. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you dumbass, what do you think you're doing?" Jungkook sounded beyond angry as he stared down at the guy beside you, Seongwa turned to look at Jungkook and scoffed, 

"What does it look like? We're having fun." He laughed loudly as Yeji got off his lap, running her fingers up and down Jungkook's clothed chest. 

"Come on, it's funny Guky. We're playing your favourite game. Torture the loser," She laughed loudly but he took her wrist in his hand, moving it off him before moving her away from him completely as he turned to look at Seongwa who was still laughing. 

"It's not fucking funny," He growled making you look up in surprise, your heart beating rapidly against your chest as he stood up for you for the second time that day. 

"You gotta admit it is, look-" Seongwa's hand was pulled away from you as he went to point and he was dragged from his seat by an angry Jungkook.

"Get away from her," It was a warning this time as he shoved Seongwa in the direction of the exit, 

"Whoa, man! What's your fucking problem?!" He yelled out watching as Jungkook picked up his book and threw it down by his feet, ignoring everyone who was turning to stare at what was happening in the diner. 

"Do I need to explain my reasoning? Get the fuck away from her," Jungkook's eyes seemed to darken as he stared at Seongwa who started laughing even harder,

"Ooooo, do you like her? Do you want to kiss her?" Within seconds Seongwa was pushed against the wall while Jungkook held onto the lapels of his jacket, forcing him against the wall as he spoke in a harsh tone.

"She's mine to tease, she belongs to me." He spat as he looked at a terrified Seongwa, his eyes widened with fear as he nodded dramatically. 

"I'm the only one allowed to tease her...Do I make myself fucking clear?" Once Seongwa nodded Jungkook dropped him, watching the boy scramble to pick up his things before leaving the diner with Yeji trailing behind him.

"Fucking idiot, it's a good thing I came when I found out he'd asked for help. What kind of dumbass are you? Why do something like this?" He gestured towards all of the notes that were now ruined and covered in the milkshake that had splattered onto you. 

"I'm always picking you up when bad shit happens," He groaned as he watched you trying to wipe off as much of the milkshake as humanly possible still not speaking a word to him. There was no way for you to tell if this was still part of what Seongwa had planned or if he was being genuine. 

"Do you have any spare clothes?" He sighed as he realised you were going to have to go home to your dorms covered in the milkshake, you shook your head. 

"No." Simple answeres was going to get you through the meeting with him, he began rooting through the bag he had with him.

"What's their deal? Why do they hate you so much?" You stared at Jungkook not knowing if you should laugh or cry at his questions. 

"Why do you care?" Jungkook held up a hoodie from inside of his bag, a black one with some shorts he owned. 

"I don't. Nobody else is allowed to treat you like that, only I'm allowed," He shoved the clothes into your hand being careful not to hit the milkshake parts of you. 

"Why?" You questioned again.

"Because you need clothes to travel home in. I'm not letting you get onto my bike in that," He gestured to the messed up outfit and you shook your head, 

"I'm already home. I stay here...But I meant why do you get to be the only one that bullies me?" It felt strange to be having a conversation with him after all of these years, 

"Because I know when to stop. What do you mean you stay here? You have a dorm..." You stared at him wondering what kind of simple-minded answer that was. It was stupid but as you came to think of it all those years Jungkook had bullied you not once did he go too far and make you cry like everyone else had but it didn't justify anything.

"Why are you staying here?" He asked as he waited for you to answer, you'd just gotten changed into the clothes he'd given to you and came out of the bathroom.

"My roommates locked me out, I've been staying on the sofa in the basement," You admitted as you realised he wasn't going to drop it until he got all of the answers out of you, 

"Is that why you've been so late lately?" You nodded at him putting your clothes into a laundry basket with the rest of your dirty clothes, you needed to find a laundromat somewhere.

"Why do you let people treat you like that?"

"Why do you treat me like that? Why do you hate me?!" You countered back at him snapping at little raising an eyebrow as you waited for him to answer the question this time.

"You're always doing something fucking dumb, always getting into trouble you're a magnet for it!" He yelled out as he grabbed the keys for his bike and your hand, pulling you towards the exit of the diner.

"What are you doing?" You questioned as he kept pulling you out of the door and towards his bike. Sitting there was a large black motorbike that looked expensive, 

"You're not staying on a sofa when I have a perfectly good spare room." He grumbled as he opened the seat to get the helmet out of it, 

"Put it on before you hurt yourself." He handed you a black helmet but you made no attempt to put it on. 

"Here," He placed it onto your head, strapping it on tightly enough so that it wouldn't come off, 

"I don't need your clumsy ass hurting yourself," He mumbled as he sat you on the bike, sitting in front of you and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Hold on tight." That was the last thing he mumbled before he began driving off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'll make some tea," Jungkook's dorm was nothing how you had expected it to be, you thought it would be dark but it was bright. White walls with white furniture and photos everywhere of his family, you knew his mother so you recognised her face in the photographs. You stayed silent as he bought you a cup of tea to the coffee table in his living room, you had no idea what to say to him or why you had even gone along with him in the first place. 

"All I could think about was hitting him, no one should treat you like that! It bothers me so much when everyone does it in class," Staring at him in shock you wondered why it bothered him so much when all of these years he'd been doing the same thing. 

"Why?" He stared at you as he frowned, did you really not see everything he had been doing to protect you?

"You're mine. No one gets to treat you like that...Ever." It confused you even more as you stared back at him, 

"You do the same thing. You've bullied me for years." You shook your head at him and he sighed, 

"There's a difference...I know when you stop when you've had enough...I do it because I know your boundaries." Only more confusion set in as he admitted it to you, it didn't make up for anything he had said or done over the years. 

"I've always looked out for you though...Like when it snowed and I drove you home. Or when you had that cold and I brought you medicine...I always made sure you had notes in class." It was true but he still did it while calling you mean names or being rude about it. 

"Is anyone else bothering you? I have to know who and what they're doing so I can stop them." That was when it hit you, he was being protective in a mean way. He was acting like all of those rude Tsundere anime boys you saw in manga and shows. 

"You're being...Protective?" You questioned as you stared at him, he locked eyes with you not saying anything,

"You're worried about me?" You asked again as you waited for him to say something else but he got up in a rush, almost hitting the coffee table and spilling the tea. 

"It's your fault I get like this! It's your fault I get so worried and protective over you!" He yelled out as he began pacing around the floor, your eyes on him the whole time as you waited for him to say something else. 

"Those big eyes, that smile that always makes me smile even when you're driving me nuts and being so god damn annoying!" He stopped still and stared at you, 

"What are you talking about?" Everything felt as though it was getting too much to handle but you had to know why he did this, why he had done all of this over the years and why he was still so protective over you now. 

"I had to keep annoying you and bullying you otherwise I was going to start thinking about how much I loved you...How much I wanted you." Blinking you stared at him now knowing what to say in response to him. 

"Loved?" Was the only thing that seemed to be coming out of your mouth staring back at him, 

"It's your fault." You laughed softly as he passed the blame onto you as if it was something you had to do with, it was his feelings, not yours. 

"Which is why you're going to stay here so I can look after you. Make you get to work and class okay...Make sure you're okay-" He stopped speaking when you smashed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you finally kissed him after all these years. The long awaiting build up making your stomach flip and sparks fly as you finally kissed one another. Jungkook wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could finally hold you close to his body. 

"I love you dumbass," He mumbled against your lips as you nodded at him, 

"I love you too, cunt." You bit down on his lip before kissing him once again, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you leant into him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting beside him in class the next day was nerve-wracking, he had his arm around your shoulder glaring at anyone that was staring at the two of you for more than he approved of. Not everything was perfect between the two of you and it was going to take some time to get used to him being kind of nice to you all of a sudden but there was no denying your feelings for one another. Besides, he was like your guardian angel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ 

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

title: picture me pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again. word count: 18.3k warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok! a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.

i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪

(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)

The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence

—

He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.

He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.

You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.

He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.

You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.

When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.

What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.

The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.

Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.

The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.

He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.

You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.

—

At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.

He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.

There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.

When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.

The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.

It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.

These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.

Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?

One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.

“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.

“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.

When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.

You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”

“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.

Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”

You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”

She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”

You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.

You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.

Oh. The mirror.

She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”

You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.

Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.

“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”

“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.

When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.

For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.

You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.

When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?

You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.

“Did you come back for this?”

You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.

“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.

He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”

“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.

He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.

“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”

“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.

“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”

The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”

“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.

“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?

“Um, just different things here and there.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.

“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.

“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”

You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”

“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.

You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.

And you still didn’t get his name.

You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.

When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.

You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.

When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”

He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”

Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.

“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”

“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”

You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.

“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.

“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”

“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”

“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”

Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”

“Yes!”

Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.

You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”

“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”

“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.

Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”

“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”

Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”

“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”

You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”

He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”

You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”

“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”

You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”

Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”

Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.

You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.

Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.

He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.

When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.

“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”

It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.

After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.

Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.

As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.

He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”

“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”

“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”

Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”

“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”

“Turned, huh…”

Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.

You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.

You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”

“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”

“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”

“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.

Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.

You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”

“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”

“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.

“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”

“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.

“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”

“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.

You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”

You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.

“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.

You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.

Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. “Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”

You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.

The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.

As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.

Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”

You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.

It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.

The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.

“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”

Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”

He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.���

You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”

Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”

You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.

Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.

Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.

Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.

Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.

“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.

“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.

—

You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.

“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”

“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”

Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”

“Two places?”

“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”

“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”

“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”

“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”

Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.

“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”

Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.

He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”

On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around. 

When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.

Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.

“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”

“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.

“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.

“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”

Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight. 

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

[lumosinlove]

Between Fifth And You

AO3

chapter two

~

It’s Saturday night for Manhattan’s elite, and we know what that means. The Noble House of Black beckons, and one particularly family seems to be a little behind on preparations—at least, their youngest son is.

Spotted—Logan Tremblay, looking hot in nothing but basketball shorts. Better soak up that fading blue August heat while you can, Lo. Or are you more interested in something a little more…fiery? But in the LES? Why so far from home, Dorothy? Eye color isn’t the only thing green about the Tremblay family. And they have a bad habit of sorting everything out with a little help from Ben Franklin.

“Shoot, shoot!”

Logan pivoted on his heel and was able to toss the ball around his opponent’s shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of red hair as Finn caught it with ease and jumped it up to the rim.

Finn O’Hara. One of these days Logan was going to step on his own shoes watching Finn O’Hara. His pale chest looked like sugar dusting, his exertion-red cheeks the goddamn cherry.

“Point moo-oi!” Finn shouted, slapping Will Morgan and Percy Marshall on their bare backs. “That’s how you say it, right, Tremblay?”

Logan feigned a shudder. “Non.”

“Shorty’s got game,” Will laughed, sweat dripping down his dark brown skin, darkening the leather bracelets he wore.

Percy shook his head, swallowing over a caught-breath, his silver Star of David swinging at his throat. “Shorty must be cheating with his Upper Side shoes.”

Logan just narrowed his eyes and laughed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re just tall. Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mazel tov, you fucker.”

“I’m finally winning,” Finn grinned. “And now I gotta get back to the shop. I said be back in five…pretty sure it’s been fifty-five.”

Logan swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll walk you.”

Percy slapped him on the back as they left, and Finn held the cage door of the basketball court open for him.

“So, you’re back at school?” Finn asked as he pulled his shirt on. Logan nodded, following suit, picking at the neck where it stuck to his sweaty skin.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded. “I’m supposed to be getting fitted for a suit right now.”

Finn snorted. “What does that have to do with school?”

“Oh,” the corner of Logan’s mouth raised as he realized. “Nothing, I…well, you know. The social scene. It sort of all feels like one thing, up there.”

Finn pouted at him. “Poor baby. Too many parties.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan laughed.

“Hey, feel like lunch?”

“I thought you had to be back.”

Finn shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Logan bit his lip, wondering how many different ways his older sisters could actually kill him. Honestly, he thought he’d just die on the spot of he passed up the change to be squeezed into one of the small restaurants that Finn frequented. Screw the grand tables of his life. Logan wanted cracked leather booths small enough to let their ankles brush. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Finn didn’t disappoint. They walked down the shade of Mott street, then turned at a bakeshop on the corner. Finn pointed at it.

“You’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Logan raised a shoulder. “I don’t get down here much.”

Finn snorted. “Listen to you. Down here. You’re down here enough to pop into my bookstore all the time.”

Logan studied the cakes in the windows, biting his lip when he realized Finn’s eyes were still on him in the reflection. “I…yeah.”

Finn flicked the bill of Logan’s hat which shaded the back of his neck. “How’s that latest book you bought?”

Logan turned away from the window to get them walking again, not sure where they were going but trusting Finn to lead. “I’m starting school, man, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

Finn just laughed. “Come on, let’s catch the 6.”

Logan found himself squeezed into a tiny French restaurant in the West Village that served them even tinier croissants.

“I know the chef,” Finn said popping one he had spread jam and butter on into his mouth. “Dumo. Don’t pay a cent. I fucking love these things.”

Logan would have bought Finn a thousand of the tiny pastries without a blink just to see him lick a bit of jam from his thumb again.

“Dumo doesn’t sound very French…” Logan began cutting up his waffle.

Finn laughed. “Pascal Dumais does.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Logan glanced at a woman and her baby, who had started crying. He tried to think of something to say. For someone who’s job seemed to be making small talk at various parties and charming people with his accent—or so his mother sometimes said—he sure was horrible at it.

“So, what’s the suit for?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his black coffee.

“A fashion show,” Logan sighed, hiding his surprise—and maybe delight—at Finn’s unknowing shrug. “It’s…sort of a lot. Lots of people and cameras. And I always have to wear something green.”

Finn hummed in understanding. “It’s the eyes, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “A lot of fast English, too.”

Finn tilted his head. “I didn’t know that was hard for you. You’re perfect.”

Logan tried not to flush and covered it with a shrug. “I lived in France until I was fifteen before we finally moved to my dad. It’s still nice to be able to read lips sometimes. With the flashes and they make it super dark…I don’t know.”

“No, that makes sense,” Finn said, brown eyes soft. He smiled. “Hey, well, if you don’t want to go to the fitting, come man the shop with me. I’d love the company.”

Logan looked at him and ached, but saw his older sister Noelle’s pleading, excited expression in his mind. He might not love the scene, but he loved his sisters. “I wish I could. Really.”

They finished up their food and Logan had to admit that he lingered over his coffee until Finn said he absolutely had to leave.

“Hey, Tremblay,” Finn called from down the sidewalk, and Logan turned in the full knowledge that seeing the smile Finn sent him would only make him want to stay more.

The dutiful son wants the bookshop boy…I don’t know, Lo. How will their royal highnesses feel about that?

“Come buy more books you don’t read soon, okay?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile back. “D’accord.”

Finn walked backwards a few steps, yelling, “And bring me something green!” before turning and jogging down the subway stairs.

Logan laughed as he called his driver to him, escaping the heat for air conditioned leather.

XOXO

Pearls or diamonds, Upper Siders? Armani or Ralph? What, like you have other questions tonight?

Well, I have one for you. A tip from a friendly scroller gave me a peak at tonight’s guest list. Do you think we’re in for more than just a showdown on the runway? Cat fights over cat walks is what I always say.

XOXO.

[Image description: Two name cards reading, from left to right, Leo Knut and Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Sebastian Montague]

Remus found Julian already dressed and tapping at a game on his phone when he descended the winding staircase of their penthouse.

“You waiting for mom and dad?” Remus said, dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

“And you,” Julian said.

“Right, right,” Remus smoothed his black tuxedo, trying to ignore the subtle glint of blue-silver embroidered into the black velvet. His mother was a planner—which Remus liked usually—but this design had not aged well. This suit had a twin that it no longer belonged with. Remus clenched his jaw as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d hoped wearing it would feel like defiance.

But it only felt like he was lonely. He gave his head a hard shake. He had Leo. He couldn’t let New York throw him.

“Gossip Girl’s going crazy. Of course,” Julian said.

“Jules, you shouldn’t read that stuff,” Remus sighed. “It’s just gossip—”

“Just posted about Sirius,” Julian murmured.

Remus huffed, pushing his hair out of its too neat style in the mirror. “So?”

Julian shrugged, but pointedly looked away when Remus took out his own phone.

The photo looked like one from the paparazzi, but the sight of Sirius on the red carpet made Remus’ throat close up.

I spy a statement piece. Or maybe it’s just a statement. Sirius Black arrives on the red carpet—or should I say black carpet—with none other than New York’s favorite icon, in worship and fashion alike. The Saint of these streets is looking particularly dashing tonight, hand in hand with the heir of this city. Ouch, Re. Looks like you’ve been dethroned.

Remus stared down at the screen, neck hot. Sirius’ suit sleeves had the barely there leather half moon cut-outs that Remus remembered tracing onto his skin.

Sirius had smiled into their kiss. Think anyone will notice?

Remus had just laughed. Everyone will notice.

But there was Saint, a crown of moonstones in his golden hair.

Remus looked down at his own suit. Of course Saint had thought of a way they’d match, that was all it was, but it still felt like a snub.

“I sort of miss him,” Julian said quietly.

Remus’ heart pulled. He swallowed and clicked his phone off. He looked at Julian, who looked almost sheepish.

“Do you?” Julian asked even more quietly.

“Don’t you like Leo?” Remus asked.

“Of course,” Julian nodded quickly. “But…”

“Remus,” Hope smiled, coming down the stairs arm-in-arm with their father. “Jules. Ready, boys?”

Remus didn’t think saying no was an option. He cleared his throat, pushed his hair back.

“Almost,” he said, backtracking towards the stairs. “Just a second. Gotta call Leo, make sure he hasn’t left yet.”

XOXO

“We can watch a livestream of the red carpet and the show,” Natalie said. “Sit.”

Finn groaned, squished beside Natalie on her tiny sofa. “That feels like I’m stalking him.”

“We’re allowed to stalk the boys we like.”

“You’re dating my brother, Nat. Does this mean you stalked him?”

“It really does,” Alex said, coming in from the kitchen with their margaritas and dropping a kiss to Natalie’s temple.

“Hm,” Natalie smiled up at him, accepting a kiss to her lips. “Scruffy.”

Finn sighed and pulled a knee up to his chest, watching the loading video Natalie had pulled up.

“Your wifi sucks,” he mumbled.

“It’ll load,” Natalie scooted over for Alex and passed Finn his drink.

“Salsa, too,” Finn said, waving it over.

Finally, the video popped up to a view of the red carpet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alex said.

“Be nice,” Natalie laughed. “It’s fashion!”

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I know they’re wealthy and it’s suppose to be all, I don’t know sandy beaches and wristwatches, but not a single one of these people look remotely happy. Like take a look at this guy—“

Finn looked over the sandy-haired man posing in front of the cameras—well, not posing, really. Kasey Winter, the commentators were saying.

“Nice hair,” Natalie crunched on a chip. “And listen to that, his mother’s one of the biggest producers at Weird Sisters Records.”

“Fine, but he looks like he’s ready to kill someone. I mean, anyone else think its kind of fucked up that the New York families go to a New York university where New York businesses draw from New York’s elite?”

“Yes,” Finn and Natalie said in unison.

And then there was Logan.

Finn let out an embarrassing sound and set his drink down, leaning forward.

Logan walked out in front of the cameras with three girls—his sisters, Finn remembered. Not to mention he followed all of them on Instagram. They had a lot of shoes, sure, but they seemed all right.

“I saw this thing on Gossip Girl about one of the sisters,” Natalie said. “She—”

“Nat, why the hell do you read that?”

Natalie shot him a look. “Like you don’t.”

Finn ignored them, too focused on the dark, nearly black, velvety green cape—or was it cloak?—that covered Logan’s shoulders down to above his elbows, falling to an elegant point at the small of his back over his black suit. The sisters had a similar get-up in one way or another—a green train, a shawl, a corset. Logan’s clasp was a silver fleur-de-lis.

“Green,” Finn breathed.

“What?” Alex asked.

Finn bit the inside of his cheek at Logan’s expression. It was meant to be blank, Finn thought, at-ease and untouchable, but it came off almost enticing. His dark eyelashes swept against his cheeks. Finn watched his throat bob around a swallow, his adored eyes shifting from flash to flash.

“Nothing,” Finn answered his brother.

“How’d you meet this kid anyway, Fish?” his brother asked.

“I was closing up shop about a month ago,” Finn said. “And he stopped at one of our windows. Looked like he’d run the entire island, he was breathing so hard. Not to mention it was pouring like nothing else. Thought he was gonna pass out, so I unlocked the door and let him in to get dry. I don’t know, he was kind of shy at first. Listened to me talk for about an hour before he started giving anything back.” Finn shrugged, watching Logan walk off screen. “I invite him to play basketball with me, Morg, and Percy now. We get lunch after sometimes.”

Natalie sighed. “He looked like one unhappy camper.”

“I think his family puts a lot of pressure on him. He’s the baby. Only son. All that bullshit.”

“I kind of want that cape,” Natalie said.

Alex sighed. “That’s the idea.”

Natalie slapped his chest, then kissed his cheek, and Finn watched Logan walk off-screen.

XOXO

“What say you, Capulet?”

Sirius looked down at Saint at his shoulder. “They’re out of crab puffs.”

“Boo,” Saint said. “You still closing the show?”

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t you be in hair and makeup?”

“Yep.”

Saint stepped in front of him, the gold band of moonstones nestled in his curls glinting in the dark stage lights. “Looking for someone?”

Sirius just reached out and ran a gentle thumbnail beneath where Saint’s golden eyeliner had smudged against his brown skin, striking it back to a point. “Nope. See you after the show.”

Saint clucked his tongue. “I’m unimpressed.”

“What else is new?” Sirius said.

Saint went to smile, when his eyes flickered behind Sirius and he raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Sirius turned around, and quickly schooled his expression. The cameras were going wild, and in front of all the flashing lights was Remus, hand-in-hand with Leo Knut.

“They make a sunshine pair,” Saint said from beside him. “How’re you feeling?”

Sirius touched two fingers to one of the black-leather moons on his jacket sleeve. They were meant to go with Remus’ stars. He remembered planning for them. He’d thought…part of him had thought if he’d worn them tonight—

“Cloudy sky,” he replied to Saint.

“I was gonna say dappled sunlight in…” Saint glanced around. “A dark forest.”

Remus and Leo were wearing dress shirts, collars rumpled and unbuttoned at their throats, each in a smooth shade of cream. Their hands, decked out in golden rings, were laced together, and they both wore pale gray slacks, slim cut, and laceless nikes.

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…hmm, but don’t I spy some burning jealous?

“What are we going for here,” Saint raised an eyebrow. “Left in a hurry and didn’t get the dress code?”

“We’re going against me,” Sirius replied, slipping his hands into his pockets and trying to stand straight. “That’s all.”

“Sunlight in a dark forest, indeed.”

Sirius watched them looking out over the flashes, and tried not to look surprised when golden eyes met his own. Remus’ expression didn’t change either. Instead, he simply blinked, then looked away. Leo, tall and lean, leaned into his ear, and Remus smiled. The cameras popped like champagne.

I love right here, Sirius remembered his own voice, the feeling of the soft skin by Remus’ eye beneath his thumb. I love right here when you smile.

“I need to get backstage,” Sirius said shortly, and turned on his heel.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Don’t I know,” Sirius called as he weaved his way through the crowd, heading backstage. The woman with a radio in her ear looked annoyed and nervous when he slipped past her, and radioed that he had arrived to whoever it was that needed to know.

“Sirius!” Alice called, hands full of makeup brushes and up in the air. “Jesus Christ, do you think I have all fucking night?”

Sirius shrugged out of his red carpet jacket—which someone took—and slid into her chair. “Sorry, Al.”

She twirled a protective cape around his shoulders, snapping it at the base of his neck. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty. But then again, I think everyone’s pretty.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting her begin. “People are.”

Alice had just finished contour when Sirius all but felt his mother’s presence. A shift in the air. A cooler wind. People standing up straighter and shivering.  

“Sirius,” his mother’s face appeared in the mirror. Her red lipstick was the brightest thing about her, and even that was almost mauve. Her dress was tight around her breasts, but cascaded in thick waves of velvet behind her, and she wore tall leather boots. It almost looked like armor. “You’re very late, darling.”

“Sorry,” Sirius said. “Saint and I got caught up in the crowd, I guess.”

She hummed. “You two looked fetching out there. He’s much more pleasing than that other boy ever was. His family is important, too.”

It was true, that his mother had never liked Remus much. Though, Sirius couldn’t compare him and Saint. They were two different oceans.

“Get dressed,” his mother breathed, and was already snapping her fingers at one of the other models before Sirius could say another word.

“All right?” Alice asked him quietly.

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. Her contour made his face look almost gaunt, as was the general makeup for all of the models, and he knew he’d be given dark eye makeup next, his hair fluffed into perfect curls.

“Fine,” Sirius said, and closed his eyes to let her work.

Sirius was shrugging into his given outfit—a billowing longcoat, 20th century in fashion, and a longer tunic made almost entirely of the thinnest black silk. It would shimmer when he walked, he knew, and his tall, lace-up boots, the flat sole so thin and delicate that he almost felt barefoot, would disappear beneath the shimmer. His mother was cold, stubborn, and cruel sometimes, an unfeeling, yawning sort of dark, but she was talented.

“Lord Vader,” came a voice from behind him, and Sirius laughed even before he turned to face Thomas Walker.

“Sounds about right,” Sirius said, and they clasped hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug. “You look fantastic, though.”

Thomas spun slowly on his heel, letting the long, loose fitting white linen of his button-down—which went out in two, tuxedo-like tails at his back—flare out above his slim, black trousers. He wore a thin scarf of distressed wool.

“Like a fallen gentleman, no?” Thomas grinned. “I might try and steal these pants. And maybe the shirt for Noelle.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius smiled, spying Noelle’s green eyes behind his shoulder. “She’ll love that.”

Noelle wrapped her arms, which were draped in a transparent green cloth, around Thomas’ waist. “Thanks for thinking of me, T baby.”

Thomas laughed in surprise. “Who let you back stage?”

“I’m a Tremblay, they’ll let us in anywhere.”

Thomas turned his head to capture Noelle in a soft kiss.

“See you after, hm?” Noelle said. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend, she’s walking tonight, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll ride to Honeyduke’s together.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow at him. “You coming, Black?”

“Saint all but owns the place,” Sirius said. “Of course I am.”

Sirius walked. He didn’t look down, or hear the cameras. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, to be up here, not able to see past the lights—but something tonight was different. It felt as it had the night of his and Remus’ first kiss.

In that show, he had had one, thin line of black lipstick traced over the center of his bottom lip. It had marked Remus’ throat and cheeks like soot by the end of it all.

Remus had been waiting for him back stage.

“Come here,” Remus had whispered, and laced their fingers together.

“Where?” Sirius had answered, surprised by their palms pressing together.

But it hadn’t been a place. Remus had pressed them back in between clothing racks, and crashed their mouths together.

Here, Remus had whispered, and kissed him again.

Sirius felt the absence of the stage lights like a wash of cold air, and he stretched out his back, letting his stony face drop a little. He glanced around, but there was no one to be found. His cheeks were warm just thinking about it.

“Good,” his mother said as he passed her by to take off the makeup, and that was all.

XOXO

Saint looked across Honeyduke’s and felt like it was his. Logan was laughing with Thomas and Noelle, and he had Kasey Winter beside him, securing tickets to one of their favorite bands to see together.

“Done,” Kasey said, and flashed one of his rare smiles.

“I knew you were my favorite,” Saint took a sip of his drink, and Kasey scoffed.

“Me or my mom?”

“Maybe a little of both. Oh, and we’re going to sushi beforehand.”

Kasey’s smile was larger now. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You gonna leave with that drummer again? What’s her name?”

Saint smiled. “Oh, Sally. And I make it a habit to always leave with the drummer.”

Kasey just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a drink and leaving you to your one-liners.”

Saint watched him go, feeling settled, and set about scanning the room for Sirius. He was sure he’d know if he was there—people tended to swarm to Sirius, even if he didn’t ask for it. It was part of the reason they were so close. People flocked to Saint, too. So, they asked for each other’s company. A more intimate, calm part of life. Sirius was quiet. Saint wasn’t, but he let Saint , for a moment, be that way, too. Saint was loud. Sirius wasn’t, but Saint had his ways to fire him up.

“Another drink, sir?”

Saint looked over his shoulder, only to turn all the way around, interest peaked. The bartender had sandy hair, and a strong jaw, his cheeks textured by acne scars in some places. He had brown eyes—save for a sliver of green in one.

“Only if you have one with me,” Saint said, and glanced down at his name-tag. “Luke.”

Luke arched an eyebrow, pressing the heels of his palms onto the bar between them, revealing rolled up sleeves and some type of vine tattoo, wrapping all around both of his forearms.

“I’m working, sir.”

“Is that a later?” he nodded at the tattoo. “Nice.”

“I don’t think so,” Luke said.

“Oh, no?”

Luke scowled—how did he look so handsome doing that?

“Do you make it a habit to go home with all the waiters, too?”

Saint didn’t let his expression flicker, just smiled nice and slow.

“Hillrock,” Saint said. “Neat.”

The barkeep turned away.

Ouch. Looks like not everyone worships at your alter, Saint.

XOXO

The elevator doors opened, revealing the party to Sirius one outfit after the next. He had changed for the afterparty—the first of three. He wore a tight, thin black t-shirt and dark jeans. He hadn’t bothered to wash off the dark, smudged eyeliner from the show. His combat boots went up to just below his knee, and had the same nearly naked feeling sole. It made him feel soundless, like a shadow.

Maybe that’s why it was easy to find Remus and stand beside him without him stirring.

“You’re a little underdressed,” Sirius said without looking at him.

“Says the boy wearing a t-shirt,” Remus replied evenly.

Sirius scowled. “I meant at the show.”

“People like to be surprised,” Remus replied evenly.

“Who’s Leo?”

“My boyfriend.”

Sirius turned towards him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

Remus matched him. They were nearly chest to chest. “You didn’t say a word to me in class.”

“You didn’t—“

“I had the last word,” Remus snapped. “I figured maybe you’d finally have something to say back.”

Sirius stared at him, heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, he let himself look. At the golden eyes, hair more blond than ever from the summer’s sun. Sirius couldn’t stand that mouth set in a frown.

“Guess not,” Remus said softly, lips dropping open in the way they used to before they kissed.

Sirius all but felt him vanish into the writhing crowd.

XOXO

Finn looked up when a flash of color on the morning-silent street outside caught his eye. He set the books he was holding down, took the pen out from between his teeth.

Green.

“What the hell?” Finn laughed as he pulled open the door to his bookshop to find Logan standing there. “It’s five in the fucking morning, what are you doing here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Never did,” Logan said, and that’s when Finn saw that Logan was still in his suit from the livestream.

“Ah, I see,” Finn said, eyes flicking up and down his broad form. He swallowed dryly. “The nature of afterparties, I suppose. Well, you—you look good. For someone who’s been up all night, I mean.”

Logan just smiled, one of his small, secretive ones. Finn watched as he stepped forward so they were almost toe to toe in the doorway.

“Wh…” Finn’s voice dropped off with a breathless laugh. He couldn’t help but look at Logan’s mouth. His full lips that could speak a language Finn couldn’t even begin to describe.

Logan just reached up to the base of his own throat and unclipped the fleur-de-lis clasp there. In one smooth swoop, he drew his short cloak from his shoulders and around Finn’s, right over his worn gray t-shirt, clicking it in place. The fabric brought a gentle scent, and he figured it must be Logan’s cologne.

“Something green,” Logan said softly. A warm, early morning breeze ruffled his hair, pushing the curls forward. Finn couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Inventory,” Finn whispered, then cleared his throat. “Inventory.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “I’ll help.”

[libraryofloveletters]

Amnesia

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, cheesy love letters, crying, break ups, mentions of blood and injuries 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: mkay, I didn't use the whole song. It flips back and forth between the reader and Spencer’s pov, flashbacks of their relationship are in italics!

Song: Amnesia 

----

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

Aaron placed a paper on your desk. You glanced up at him as he gave your shoulder a small squeeze. Spencer’s eyes were on you and you could feel it. You weren't ready to tell them that you were transferring. 

Working with Spencer after the breakup was hard. 

You did what you believed was best for the team. You stood up and walked out to take a phone call, leaving everything where it was, figuring that you’ll pack up after everyone leaves. 

Spencer watches Penelope walk to your desk, her eyes scanning the paper on your desk. “It’s.. oh my god” she says, Derek looks over at her “what is it mama?” 

“Transfer papers. Y/n’s leaving the BAU”

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked back into the bullpen, everyone but Spencer. Penelope sat at your desk, the paper in her hand. “You’re really leaving ?” she had a small pout on her face, you nodded. “Oh baby” she pulled you into a hug, soon enough everyone came over.  

Everyone knew why you were transferring, it didn't need to be said. Spencer was on the team first, it was only fair that if one of you were going to leave then it would be you. 

“Come and visit all the time” JJ said as she and Emily hugged you, Emily nodding in agreement. 

“I’m gonna miss you mama” Derek gave you a good solid squeeze, “gonna miss you too, D” 

In typical Rossi fashion, you were greeted by two kisses on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger kid” you smiled at him. 

Penelope hugged you once more, “promise you’ll come and see me all the time. Oh! and we’ll still have our weekly lunch and gossip” you laughed, “of course Penny, I wouldn't miss it for the world” 

Even Aaron seemed sad by your departure, “take care of yourself y/n” “you too Aaron” he gave you a small hug. 

Finally, Spencer stood up and made his way over. He gave you a quick and semi awkward hug before wishing you good luck. 

JJ, Penelope and Emily helped you pack up your desk and made you promise once more that you’ll come visit them. You glanced over at Spencer on your way to the elevator, his head was down in his book, his finger trailed across the page as he read. Once again, JJ, Emily and Penelope pulled you into a group hug before letting you get in the elevator. You smiled at them as the doors shut. 

The thought of your hug with Spencer replayed in your head. 

And even though your friends tell me you're doing fine

Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?

When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?

7 months have passed since you last set foot in the BAU. You had been keeping up with the team outside of work. You had seen the girls for drinks one night, popped into Rossi’s for dinner, went over to help Derek with his latest house project and visited Aaron at one of Jack’s games. Only person you hadn’t seen was Spencer. 

At one of your girl’s nights, you met a guy named Jacob. The two of you hit it off and exchanged phone numbers, which led to a date which ended in you and Jacob starting a relationship. 

You had kept the girls in the loop about your budding romance with Jacob, but only the good parts. They didn't know about the fights and the sleepless nights. 

You were currently have one of those sleepless nights. Tumbling through your boxes of stuff from your apartment with Spencer, you came across a stack of letters. 

You opened one of them and began reading,

“To my darling y/n, 

This week has been tough. I wasn’t sure how to help you physically but I decided to help you the way I know how too, through words. Just a little reminder to make you feel better, hopefully. It was 2 years ago tonight that I asked you to be mine and you told me you loved me. You changed my life that evening, leading us on a journey that would bring us so much joy. 

Every time I look at you, my love for you grows deeper, a degree of love I didn't know I possessed. Whenever something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell and when something bad happens, I know I can count on you to take me in your arms and tell me that everything will be okay. I can only hope that I'm that person for you because I want to be, because I'm here for you and I always will be. 

I’m the luckiest man in the world because I can say with all of my heart, that I'm in love with my best friend. I know that I can't give you the world, but I promise to hold on to you forever, there is nothing that would give me greater joy than seeing you happy. 

Your love is everything to me.

There’s not another in the world that can hold a candle to you, my love, as you are my one and only. I love you more than even the most heartfelt words can express. 

Yours always, 

Spencer. R” 

The tears rolled off your face and onto the paper. Spencer had always had a way of telling you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you weren't with him. 

Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

Y/n and her boyfriend sat at Rossi’s dinner table with the rest of the team. He had invited her to the team dinner because they all missed her, even Spencer, although he would never admit that. 

Spencer knew she was coming, he just didn’t expect her to bring her new boyfriend. It felt wrong for her to do that because he would never bring another girl to a team dinner. 

There would never be another girl for him. 

They sat there laughing along with everyone as Derek told his story. His hand was on her shoulder and her smile was still as beautiful as it had always been. Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, she had captured his attention once again. 

“Pretty boy” Derek called out to him, breaking Spencer’s gaze away from her. 

“What is it ?” 

“Did you hear what I said ?” 

“Fran took your sister to the doctors only to find out that it was a hickey and not a burn mark. I heard you Derek” 

Y/n’s eyes were on Spencer as he spoke. Spencer glanced over at her, their eyes meeting. It felt like forever before either of them looked away. She gave him a small smile before shifting slightly which caused her boyfriend’s hand to fall off her shoulder. 

A glimmer of hope flashed through Spencer’s body. Her boyfriend’s hand falling off your shoulder, maybe it was intentional, maybe she was trying to tell him that she wanted Spencer and not him. 

Or maybe it was all in his head, he was reading too much into it. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

The two of you stood in your bedroom screaming at each other. 

“How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking Spencer ? I can't read your friggin’ mind!” 

“Maybe if you paid attention to someone other than yourself, you’d know how I felt!” 

You scoffed and shook your head, you could not believe him right now. “What? you know it’s true y/n” he uttered, taking a seat on the bed

“I can’t believe you. Out of all the people in the world, you call me self centred ?” 

“I didn’t say tha-” 

“No, but you did. If only I paid attention to someone other than myself right ?”  

He rolled his eyes, he was acting like a child and he knew that. The last few weeks you’ve been wrapped up in work and honestly, yes, you had been a little distant but you were going to tell him why tonight. Since he wanted to act like a child and argue with you, why not give him what he wants? Since you never pay attention right? 

“I try my best to be there for you Spencer, I always do and you know that. You told me I coddle you too much, so I gave you your space. When you were worried about your mom, I sat up with you all night and helped you come up with ways to help her. When you were in the hospital, I sat by your bed day and night. Whenever you needed me, I was there for you. I dropped everything for you. So don’t you even dare to pull that I only focus on myself shit with me.” 

He was quiet, you stood in front of him. His arms reached out for you but you stepped away. 

“I don’t think you love me anymore y/n” Spencer whispered. 

“What?” you were in shock. 

“We haven't been okay for the last few weeks. This isn’t working, we barely talk and we see each other everyday, all day.” 

“Spence, I know I've been busy with work but I-” he cut you off 

“y/n, please. don’t.” He looked up at you with a sadness in his eyes. The tears threatened to fall but you held your ground. You couldn't let him see you fall apart, you wouldn't. 

“That’s it then ?” you looked at him, your face expressionless. “3 years for nothing?” 

“I’m sorry” 

“You’re not.” You picked up your go bag from the corner of the closet. “I’ll be back for my stuff another day” 

The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone

I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone

And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around

It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on

Spencer was moving out today. He couldn’t stay in a house full of memories.

Memories of her.

Derek had come over to help him pack up the last of his stuff. Spencer emptied his clothing into a suitcase, just throwing everything from the drawers into the suitcase. 

A picture had fallen onto the pile of clothes, it laid face down. It must have been buried between the clothes. Spencer picked it up, flipping it over. A smile creeped onto his face, it was one of those 4 frame pictures from a photo booth. You had managed to convince him to take one with you on your first official date as a couple. 

He sat on the bed, his finger brushing over the picture. The memories of that day coming back to him like it was yesterday. 

“Spence pleaseee” you begged him. 

“Y/n, do you know how many germs those photo booths have?” He gave her a stern look. 

“I promise to let you shower with bleach or lysol. Whatever will get the germs off” you laughed, he shook his head with a smile on his face. 

“Just this once” you grabbed his hand. He nodded, “just this once” 

The first picture was of the two of you laughing, your hand rested on his cheek. The second picture, you were in the same position, the two of you were smiling at each other and his hand rested on yours. The third picture, your foreheads were against each others and the final picture was of the 2 of you kissing. A tear rolled down his face, how could he have let you go like that? It hurt him just to think of you, let alone of how he let you go. 

“Pretty bo- what’s wrong?” Derek walked into the room, taking a seat beside him on the bed. Derek looks down at his hand to see the picture. Spencer looks at him, face covered in tears. Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, instead he falls into Derek’s arms. 

“Shh, it’s okay. let it out man, you’ll be okay”

“Why did I let her go?” Spencer mumbled into his shoulder 

“What do you mean ?” 

“I just let her leave. I should have tried harder” 

“Spencer, she’s happy. Don’t beat yourself up okay ? You’ll be happy again too. I know you will” 

It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long

It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?

If what we had was real, how could you be fine?

'Cause I'm not fine at all

“Oh my sweet Derek!” Penelope’s heels clicked as she made her way into the bullpen. 

Derek spun his chair around at the sound of her voice, “hey mama. What’s going on?” he got up and gave her his chair. She sat down and Derek leaned against the edge of his desk, she grabbed his hand. 

“You’ll never guess who came to visit me today!”

“Who was it babygirl?” 

“y/n! and she bought my favourite cold brew for me, oh man I miss her” Penelope let out a big breath between leaning back in Derek’s chair. Derek chuckled, “how is she?” 

Spencer’s head perked up when Penelope said your name. He couldn’t help but wander over to Derek’s desk. “She’s good, her and Jacob ended things but she’s happy.” Penelope smiled at Derek. 

“Hey Spence” Penelope smiled at him, he gave her a tight lipped smile. “Just needed to borrow this stapler” he picked up the first thing he saw which was the stapler. 

“You have one on your desk pretty boy” Derek chuckled, “yeah. mines broken” 

The truth was that Spencer just wanted to know how she was. He was glad to hear that she ended things with her boyfriend, maybe he could talk to her and fix things. There was that glimmer of hope again. 

He knew it was foolish to think that they could go back to what they had, or to even be friends but he truly hoped that she would come back to him. 

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the make-up running down your face

And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them

Like every single wish we ever made

Spencer sat at his desk when the door unlocked. You stepped in and sighed, “hey” Spencer looked up at you from his book. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't realize you’d be home. I figured you were still at the office” you mumbled, shutting the door. 

“It’s fine. You're here for your stuff?” he asked, watching as you place your keys beside his. You nodded, “everything is still where it’s always been” he said before turning his attention to his book. You headed into the bedroom to pack up the rest of the clothes you had left. 

You bumped into the bedside table knocking over the picture frame that was on it. “Shit” you bent down to pick up the pieces but you cut your finger on a piece of glass. Spencer walked into the bedroom after he heard the frame fall. 

“Y/n, are you okay ?” he helped you up, leading you to the bathroom. 

“I’m fine, I just cut my finger in the frame” you ran some water over your hand. You watched as the blood washed down the drain, not waiting to make eye contact with Spencer. “Let me get you a bandaid” he bent down to get one from the drawer, his head brushing against your leg. 

“I’m fine” you walked out of the bathroom, his hand grabbed yours. He wrapped the bandage around your finger and you let him. “Thanks” you mumbled before stuffing the rest of your clothes into the suitcase. He walked with you to the front door. 

“Thanks for letting me come get my stuff” 

“You don’t need to thank me y/n” 

You went to unlock the door when you felt Spencer’s hand on yours. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer asked you quietly, you shook your head and let out a shaky breath. “Spencer... don’t do this. please” 

“I can't let you go” 

“it’s over, okay? you can't stop me from leaving” 

“y/n I love you” he whispered, looking at you. 

“I love you too Spencer, but what’s done is done” 

Spencer stood there, the two of you looking at each other. His back against the door and your hand on the knob. You felt the tear roll down your cheek, you watched his hand reach up to wipe it away. Spencer’s hand rested on your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly against your face. 

Right then and there, you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again but you know you had to hold yourself together. 

“Move, please” you looked at him, pushing his hand away from your face. 

A small okay left his lips before he stepped away from the door. 

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

And forget about the stupid little things

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

And the memories I never can escape

If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I'd hold you closer than I ever did before

And you'd never slip away

“Good morning sleepy head” you smiled at him from the door. 

Spencer sat up and smiled at you. “Morning” you made your way over the bed with a cup of coffee for him. You set the mug on the bedside table before hopping back into bed with him. 

Spencer lays back down making himself comfortable against your chest. “How’d you sleep sweets?” you asked him as you ran your fingers through his curls. 

“I slept okay” he flipped over and onto his stomach. He rested his cheek on your stomach while looking up at you. 

The sun shined through the cracks in the curtains. The light glistened across your bare skin, accentuating your beauty. 

“Angel” Spencer mumbled smiling up at you. 

Your thumb rubbed softly against his cheek, “hm?” you smiled at him. 

“You look like an angel” his words causing you to blush. 

Tell me this is just a dream

'Cause I'm really not fine at all

Spencer's alarm goes off. 

6am. 

He rolled over to find an empty bed. Being back in your arms, you looking like an angel from the heavens was all a dream. 

You were actually gone. 

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter ten

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5700

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: canon typical violence

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Masterlist

The next morning, after a late flight to the Austrian Alps the night before, we readied ourselves for the attack on HYDRA’s head base. I made sure my two guns were loaded and secured in their holsters. I did the same for my bo staff. Everyone had been keeping their distance from me since I had entered the meeting room yesterday. The only one who never really left my side was Steve. He didn’t hover around me like I was incapable, I was grateful for that, but he was always within an arm's reach. Right now he stood a few feet away putting things into the saddlebags of his bike. I walked over to him and leaned up against the bike without saying a word. He looked up and patted me on the shoulder then went back to what he was doing.

I reached my hand up to a small golden heart locket that was clasped around my neck. I fiddled with it mindlessly for a minute or two before I took it and pried it open. A small picture of Bucky in uniform was staring back at me from the right half and on the left was a picture of him with his eyes scrunched up as I gave him a small peck on his cheek, we were both drenched in water. I let out a small laugh, remembering the events of that day.

It was a very sunny October day in 1941, which had started like any other. Breakfast had been eaten and I had gotten ready for the day ahead. Steve had gone off doing God knows what. He never tells me where he’s going. Bucky was coming by after a while for a quote “ Very special date” he had planned. While I waited for him I cleaned the house a bit and read a few chapters of a book Bucky had given me to read called ‘The Hobbit. I had only agreed to read it if he read ‘Pride and Prejudice’, which was my favorite book, but this book was very interesting. I had just gotten to chapter 7 when a heavy knock rattled the front door. I sprung up and raced to the door. I swung it open and there stood Bucky in a pair of dark khaki slacks and a white button-up collared shirt. His hair was slicked back and he held out a single red tulip.

“Well, aren’t you all dressed up. I feel underdressed now.” I said grabbing at the fabric of the light blue pinafore dress.

“You look beautiful as always, Doll. Here, I picked this on the way here, it made me think of you.” He stepped up and gave me a kiss then handed me the flower.

“Thank you, Buck. Let me put this in a vase and then we can head out.” I turned to walk into the kitchen, Bucky right on my heels. There was a small vase already on the counter sitting by the sink, so I reached out for it, filled it with water, and gently placed the stem into it. I placed it on in the sunlight that hit the window sill. I turned around and reached over to my purse on the dining room table.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing the apartment keys from the hook by the door.

“Let's go, I’m starving.” I grabbed his hand as we went out the door and waited for him to lock up. We walked down several blocks and finally came to a stop at my favorite small community Italian restaurant. We had been coming here since we were kids before mom had died. It held a special place in my heart, like everything that held her memory.

We ate and talked for an hour or two before leaving and just walking down the street. We came to one of the small parks scattered around close to the Brooklyn Bridge and stopped to take a seat on a bench.

“I know I tell you this all the time, but I love you so much,” Bucky let out.

“I love you too, Sweetheart.” I looked over at him. He was bouncing his left leg vigorously up and down, and he bit at his bottom lip nervously. “Is everything okay Buck?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s more than fine actually, I just have to figure out how to say this.” He said then took a deep breath. I watched him curiously as he slipped off of the bench and onto one knee. When he started to reach into his pants pocket was when I realized what he was doing. “Doll, from the day Steve brought me home from school to meet you and your mom I knew I liked you, then that like grew into admiration, and quickly after that, it turned into love. The strongest love I have ever felt. I hope that you will allow me to experience this love for the rest of my life, and give me the greatest honor you could ever give by becoming my wife.” When he had finished he pulled a small golden heart locket attached to a tiny delicate chain from his closed hand. I let my hands snap up to my face before he could see me cry. All I could do was nod furiously, in fear that if I spoke now nothing would come out. He carefully pulled my hands from my face and peered into my eyes. He was giving me the biggest smile I had ever seen.

“Yes,” I croaked out finally. “I’ll marry you.” I wiped my tears off with the back of my hands and then held my hair up so he could fasten the necklace around my neck. When he had it secured his hands clasped around the back of my neck and head and I was pulled into the most heated yet loving kiss I had ever experienced.

That's when I felt a drop of something wet hit my forehead. Pulling away from the kiss, we both looked up into the sky. It had gotten cloudy suddenly and sprinkles of rain had started falling down steadily. I let out a hushed giggle before pitching myself up off the bench and helping Bucky back onto his feet.

“Come on, we need to find somewhere dry before it really starts pouring,” Bucky said, not even a second afterward, the bottom fell out and the rain came down in hard sheats.

“You were saying” I called out over the loud rain. He made a gesture to the sky to say ‘why now of all times, then he started running and pulling me along.

It didn’t take long for us to find shelter in a small photo booth. I was surprised to see one here, they were still so rare outside of Manhattan. We both stood in the small booth sopping wet and catching our breath.

“Bucky, do you have twenty-five cents?” I looked up at him.

“I think so, why do you need twenty-five cents?”

“Don’t you see where we are? I want to preserve one of the happiest moments of my life.” I put out my hand, palm up, he shook his head and reached into his pocket for his loose change. Once he found the two dimes and nickel he dropped them into my open palm. I gave him a quiet “Thank you,” in a sing-song voice before turning around to dispense them into the coin slot. “Now when the light in that square comes on you have to be still and look into it okay,” I instructed him while pointing to the large square in the center of the panel in front of us.

The light came on a second after and we both stood smiling. When the light went out Bucky let out a breath. “You do know you can breathe while taking these pictures right?” I asked, laughing.

“I know,” He gave me a dirty look. The light came back on for a second time and caught the moment. “Look now it's going to be messed up because you were moving”

I ignored him and leaned up close to his ear, “Smile big,” I said then pressed my lips to his cheek for the third picture. When I backed away he looked at me lovingly. He turned slightly and leaned down to my height to press his lips to my cheek. I smile the biggest smile I could for the camera. When the fourth light finally went off, we waited a minute for the photos to develop. When they were tossed out of the slot I grabbed them quickly to look at them. Bucky peered over my shoulder at them as well.

“I’m taking those two,'' he said, pointing at the one where I was laughing at him and the one where he was kissing my cheek.

“Good because I’m putting this one in the locket.”

I came from my daydream when Steve shook my shoulders. “Hey, kid, you okay?” I shrugged in response. “We’re fixing to head out, so I will get everything situated.” I turned from him and closed the locket then stuffed it back under the collar of my suit.

“I’m ready to go,” I said quietly as I straddled the back of Steve’s bike and waited for him to do the same.

The closer to the HYDRA base we got, the more my heart pounded. I could hear the rising of my blood in my ears over the loud hum of the bike and the wind. I was itching for a fight, and I knew I would get one very soon.

The vast woods kept us concealed for a while until we came upon an outpost a few miles away from the main entrance to the base. Steve drove the bike as close as he could to the building, hoping to attract as much attention as possible. It must have worked because not even a minute later a group of six men on high-tech bikes came speeding after us.

“Step on the gas Steve, they're on our tail,” I shouted out. Steve didn’t respond, he just hit the throttle harder. In order for me to sit on the back of the bike comfortably, I had his shield strapped to my back, and I was thankful for it when the HYDRA men started shooting at us. Several shots ricocheted off the shield before Steve maneuvered us out of their sights.

Looking back at the group of men, Steve pressed a button on the handlebar, allowing a long cable to shoot out and attach itself to two trees. When the line pulled taught, two of the men hit it and were thrown from their bikes. Soon after, Steve ignited a flame thrower from the back of the bike, which took two more men off our trail.

Speeding down the dirt road I watched as the last two men sped through a separate trail and came out in front of us. Steve hit the gas and we raced in between them. I took one of the unscrewed sections of my staff and gave the guard to my right a good hit to the head, knocking him off the bike. Steve reached over to the left guard’s bike and pulled out the pin to a grenade that was attached to the man's bike. We bolted forward to get out of range from the blast. I looked back to watch. Looking back in front of us, the entrance was there, tucked into the bottom of a mountain. A tank sat between the two ramped gunman stations.

“Hand me the shield.” Steve held out his hand and I unclasped the shield from around myself and gave it to him. He placed it on the front of the bike. The tank started shooting at us but missed us by several feet. As the bike carried us closer, Steve pressed another button and sent out two small missiles, which decimated the tank. Swerving around the debris, we headed up the left ramp. When the bike launched from the top into the air, I swiftly jumped off, doing a sort of backflip in the air before landing on slightly bent knees. I took out both sides of my staff and quickly joined them together.

I watched closely as I was flanked by three guards. I waited patiently, staring them down until a man on my right made the first move. I swung out the staff, striking him in the neck. Before he fell to the ground two more men with guns came at me from behind. Taking the staff I swung it around my neck, catching it with my opposite hand, and used the momentum to hit one of them in the chest. He stumbled backward into one of the trucks that surrounded us and hit his head, knocking him out. The second guard grabbed onto the outstretched part of my staff and yanked. I went with it, just enough to latch my other hand onto the end so I was holding it with both and then stood firmly. When he pulled again I let myself be moved. I followed the motion and continued going forward into him. He stumbled in surprise, which gave me the time to pull my arms back and swing them back again, hitting him in the side of the head.

I brushed the loose hairs out of my eyes before running to meet up with Steve. He had thrown his shield to hit a guard and it bounced off in my direction. I caught it and held it in front of myself to take oncoming fire. I backed my way up to Steve and I noticed the firing stopped. Handing him his shield back I noticed why. Two large men were standing on either side of us, encircling us with jets of fire. They let off the triggers and a whole unit of men closed in on us.

Two men came up and took my staff, guns, and Steve's shield. Then four more men came to hold each of our arms down. They began to walk us through the giant doors that Steve had managed to blow open with the bike, and up into the base. We ascended several flights of stairs before we were forced into a large open room with a desk in it. I could only assume it was Schmidt’s office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. His bright red skull was hard to miss. He was saying something that I couldn't hear, I was so angry seeing him that I couldn't hear anything but a loud ringing. The ringing was made worse when I watched him strike Steve across the face and forced him to the floor by punching him in the stomach. If I wanted to I could have easily forced my way out of the grasp the two guards had on my arms, but even though all the anger I knew now wanting the time. We had a plan and I was going to stick to it if I was going to see this whole organization burn to the ground. As Schmidt pulled a gun from his belt, everyone suddenly looked to the large window at the other end of the room. Several small figures were ziplining towards us. I smiled, it was time. Schmidt was frozen in shock as Falsworth, Dugan, and Gabe came flashing in through the window.

Using the distraction I effortlessly ripped away from the two guards and tackled Schmidt. Even to his surprise, he was able to hit me hard in the nose with the grip of the gun. I flew backward, landing on a guard. I tried scrambling to my feet but the guard I landed on had a hold of my left leg. I started kicking at his hands with my free leg in hopes to loosen his hold. He quickly let go after I bent one of his fingers so far backward that it broke. I crawled up to where his head was and started punching until he was unconscious.

Coincidentally he was the guard that had taken both my staff and guns, so I reached around his back and grabbed the staff he had somehow attached to himself and retrieved my pistols from his belt. Standing up, I looked around to try and find Schmidt in the chaos.

“Where’d he go?” I shouted at Falsworth. He looked over to me and pointed down the hallway.

“That way, Steve already went after him.”

I started running, faster than I ever had before. I followed the sounds of gunshots through the twists and turns of the gray halls.

“Steve!” I yelled out, hoping he could hear me calling for him.

“I’m here!” I heard him loud and clear, he must be in the next corridor over. I kept my pace as I rounded two more corners then stopped as I saw Steve trapped in a corner by another one of those men with flamethrowers.

The flames were so big that the man hadn’t seen me sneak around him. I pounced on his back but he threw me off. I landed on the ground across from Steve, before I could get back up to try and take the man out again, he was shot down. Steve and I both turned around to see Peggy standing in the middle of the hallway. I picked myself up and jogged over to the door where the shield was stuck. I yanked it out and the doors slid open. Steve wasn’t far behind me. We ran down the hallway with several other soldiers into a large air hanger. The only aircraft in the place was whirring to life and starting to move.

“Steve, he’s in there. We have to stop him from getting away.” I started running through the chaos of the battle, no caring if anyone was in my way. I pushed them back and swung out my staff at a few before finally making it into the clear. I was running fast but the aircraft was faster. I slowed to a stop and a few seconds later Steve stopped beside me. We looked to one another in worry, but before we could think of another plan, Colonel Phillips and Peggy drove up beside us in a fancy car.

“Get in, we don’t have much time.” The Colonel orders. We both hopped in quickly, Steve in the front and me in the back with Peggy. I unscrewed the two ends of my staff and places them in their holsters so I could have my hands free to jump.

“We’re not gonna make it!” I said worriedly as the aircraft kept getting closer to the hangar door.

“Like hell we are,” Philips stated as he pressed a button next to the steering wheel. The car jolted and was propelled forward. We were gaining on the aircraft now. Steve started to stand up in his seat as we got closer and I did the same.

“Keep it steady,” Steve instructed.

“Wait.” Came Peggy’s voice. I watched as Steve turned to look and she grabbed onto one of the straps around his suit and pulled him in for a kiss. I smiled, happy for him. He turned shocked at me and I just shook my head.

“Don’t look at me, I'm not kissing you” Philips said as Steve gave him a look. I let out a laugh.

We were inching closer to the underside of the aircraft and Steve was slowly maneuvering his way to the front of the vehicle. I let out a gasp as one of the propellers scratched the shield on his back. Philips maneuvered the back end of the car between the propellers, allowing me to crouch up onto the trunk without being hit. We were nearing the end of the hanger when Steve jumped as the aircraft left the ground. When Philips drifted around in order to not fall off the side of the mountain, I jumped, using the force of the sharp turn to propel me forward and grab onto the tire right under Steve. I held on for dear life as Steve struggled to reach down and pull me up. When I was finally righted up on my feet atop the wheel, they started to be pulled back up into the hull of the aircraft. I carefully made my way off the wheels and onto the sturdy floor without any help and waited for Steve. Looking around I noticed we had a big problem.

“Steve, you’re gonna want to see this.”

“What is it?”

“Bombs. Labeled for different large cities in America. We have to stop him and fast.”

Just then a door slammed open and four men in gas masks ran in. Steve and I hurried to hide. They came jogging down the catwalk. When they got close to us Steve knocked one done by swinging into him. I stayed where I was, waiting for a moment to attack. Steve fought the men in unison before one of them ran off to get into one of the bombs. I quickly made my way over to the control panel, before he could get inside, I opened the shoot and both he and the bombing plane fell into the abyss. Steve threw another one of the men out the hole as well. I noticed another one going on one of the other planes, but before I could do anything I was tackled to the ground. I hit my head against a rail and blacked out for a moment. When I came to moments later, Steve, the guards, and the bombing plane were nowhere to be seen.

I looked out of the shoot to see if I could spot anything and I did. The plane was flying under me, but I saw Steve dangling onto the wings. Thankfully he hadn’t fallen to the ground. I left the railing and made my way to the door. There was no time to wait for Steve to make his way back inside the larger aircraft, I had to go.

It didn’t take me long to reach the cockpit. The inside of the plane was simple, the cargo hold and the cockpit were connected by just two doors. Before I entered the second door I reached for one of my guns and checked the ammo just in case. I took a deep breath and kicked the door in.

“It’s over Schmidt, I’m here to kill you.” I heard laughter coming from a dark corner to my left.

“Do you truly think you can beat me? You’re just a child, what could you possibly do to me?” HE walked out of the shadows holding a large gun. “If you know what's good for you, you’ll throw your gun down.”

“No, I won't.” I made a start to turn to him, but he shot the gun right from my hands and stalked towards me. He grabbed the back of my neck and shook me hard.

“You forget, I also have a version of your super-soldier serum running through my veins. I’m stronger than you think. If you struggle it will only end worse for you, now be quiet and stay still.” He commanded as he took his hand from my neck and wrapped it around my head to cover my mouth. He drug me with him back into the shadows.

I kept trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but he was right, he was strong, probably stronger than I was. Every time I moved his hand clamped down harder and he shook me more roughly. That was until Steve came through the door. I was walked back out of the shadows and watched as Schmidt raised the gun to shoot at Steve. Steve whirled around and when he caught sight of me he went wide-eyed.

“You don’t give up, do you?” asked Schmidt.

“No, I don’t. Now let her go” Steve replied.

“I don't think I will. She’s my leverage in this situation.”

I looked at Steve, hoping he could see what I was planning in my eyes. All I needed him to do was walk to Schmidt and I could use that to break free without being hurt. HE gave me a short nod before he started at us. Schmidt started shooting, but Steve blocked him with his shield. I used the distraction to grab Schmidt's hand with both of mine, I ducked under and twisted myself around, still holding his hand. I felt the bones in his arm fracture, this made him drop his gun in pain.

I backed off, gaining my breath back, and watched as Steve took over the fight. They were all over the place and before I knew it they had fallen into the control panel and the aircraft started to descend rapidly. I held on tightly to one of the beams closest to me. I looked over and Schmidt had gotten away from Steve and was fixing the flight path. I landed back down on the solid ground after that.

“You both could have so much power if you joined me. You are fighting for a flag, in what you think is a war of nations. Well, I have seen the future and there are no flags!” Schmidt walked around the platform, waving his gun around. He gave off two shots in Steve's direction. I hurriedly grabbed for my second gun, still in its holster. I held the gun up in my hands and pointed at his chest. I let my finger pull the trigger and the bullet missed his heart and hit his shoulder, thanks to Steve hitting him with his shield. Schmidt flew backward into some type of power converter directly in the center of the room. Blue wisps of light started to flow out from where he had crashed.

“What have you done!” he cried holding his bleeding shoulder with one hand and reaching from a glowing blue cube with the other. When he held it up in front of himself an image of the galaxy appeared out of thin air. All I could do was stare as the light of the cube started to consume Schmidt. As it reached his face, he started to scream until he was wholly encased in light. That same light was sent beaming into the space image and then quickly dissipated into nothing. All that was left behind was the cube, tumbling to the ground. It started belting through the floor before I could get a good look at it.

I looked to Steve, “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea, but we have to stop this plane.” I followed him to the control panel, he sat down and looked at all the buttons and switches. “We’re headed straight to New York.”

“This plane is more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen, we may have to contact Stark, he might know what to do,” I said studying the panel. Steve took out his radio and brought it close to his mouth.

“This is Captain and Agent Rogers, do you read?” The line was quiet for a moment before Peggy’s voice came through.

“Steve? Is that you? Are you both alright?”

“We’re fine, Schmidt is dead.”

“What about the plane?”

“That one is a little harder to explain. It’s so advanced, neither of us knows how to safely land this thing.”

“Well, I can send you some coordinates for a safe place to crash land. We can bring in Stark to try and talk you through the landing.” Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“Peggy there isn’t going to be any safe landings, we don’t have the time. We have to put it in the water, that's the only way.” I looked wide-eyed in his direction.

“Steve, we have time to figure this out.” Peggy pleaded.

“We are in the middle of nowhere right now, but if we wait any longer a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

I butted in then, “If you’re going to do this, you need to put her down now. We have about twenty-five minutes before we make it to the States.

“Peggy this is my decision” He stated and she never gave a reply. He looked over his shoulder at me. I moved closer to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Don’t be sorry, this was my choice as well. I’d rather go down with you than live by myself without you and Bucky.” I felt him place his left hand on my right and squeeze before placing it back into the control column. I braced myself as the aircraft descended rapidly. The icy ground was getting closer every second, I couldn’t look away. The only thing that kept me calm was my grip on the locket around my neck. Memories flooded my mind as we descended farther and farther.

As the aircraft made contact with the ice, I was thrown back into the far wall behind me and then everything suddenly went black.

I woke up to the sound of a radio in the distance. My eyes fluttered open but I instantly shut them again because of the bright sun beaming in through the window. I brought my hands up to rub the sleep from around my eyes and tried to open them again, this time I kept them open. The room I was in was small, Steve was in the cot to my right and there was a window looking out at some buildings.

Getting up out of the small bed I stepped closer to the window to look down at the street below but found no street. The buildings just stopped at the floor. I looked side to side and the image stopped after a few feet. I held my breath as I turned and ran to Steve. I placed my hands on his upper body and shook violently.

“Steve, wake up,” I whisper yelled. He jumped slightly before springing into an upright position.

“What is it. Is everything okay?”

“I have no clue what is going on, but something isn’t right. Those buildings,” I pointed to the windows, “Those buildings aren't real, they’re being projected somehow onto a screen that ends just out of view.”

He took a second to think before looking over at the radio. “That game, isn’t that the one we went to in forty-one?”

I listened intently to the broadcaster calling the score; the Dodgers and Phillies were tied four to four. The whole thing sounded like I had heard it before. Suddenly the doorknob turned and a woman came in. Even if I hadn't seen the screen out the window or recognized the game on the radio, with one look at her outfit, I would have known something was up. Her skirt was too tight, too straight, and the look of her bra under her blouse was not something you should have been able to see. She was also wearing black tights in her uniform, we were only ever allowed light or dark tan. Any woman from the forties would have known she looked a little strange.

“Good afternoon you too. Glad to see you’re both awake.” She stepped further into the room.

“Where are we?” Steve and I said in unison.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.” Steve and I gave one another a skeptical look as she said this.

“Where are we really,” Steve interrogated further.

“I'm not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

“The game is from May of 1941. I know, because we were both there that day.” Steve informed me, standing up from the cot.

“Those buildings you have out the window aren't real either, so tell us where we are,” I added in. I watched as her face went into complete shock.

“Who are you?” Steve almost shouted at her. She backed away and immediately two large guards came through the door. One came at me and the other went for Steve. I barely had time to think before I was grabbing hold of the man's arm and throwing him through the wall to the left. I started running, leaping through the hole the man had created in the wall, I stopped in shock looking around me. We were in a large room, void from anything other than the screens and the room we had escaped from. Steve was beside me now, pulling my arm as we ran through the nearest doorway and into a crowded lobby. I spotted the front door and moved for it. We ran, barely escaping all the men that came running at us.

Outside the building, I was overwhelmed with noise. Steve pulled me out into the road where we were almost run over by what I could only assume was a weird model of a car I had never seen before. Sprinting further down the street, we made it to a larger area with more people. The buildings were tall and had lots of flashing and moving pictures all around. We stopped running, confused about where to go next. That’s when we were surrounded by more of the strange model cars.

“At ease Soldier, Agent.”

We turned sharply, looking to who had called out to us. A tall dark-skinned man with an eye patch covering his left eye stood a couple of feet away. He came strutting towards us at a fast pace.

“I'm sorry about that little show we put on, we thought it would be best to break this to you both slowly,” he said in a straight tone.

“Break what slowly?” I demanded.

“You both have been asleep for the past seventy years.” My eyes went wide at that, my breath caught in my throat. This couldn't be real. That was impossible, no one could sleep for that long. Steve looked like he had not aged a day. I assumed that was the same case for me as well. “Are you two gonna be okay?”

I nodded, looking all around me at whatever this future New York was. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Tag list: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter 3: Ring, Ring!

Things are heating up my loves! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, swearing

Masterlist here

“Breaking news. After countless weeks of Quantico in fear, the murderer of five innocent women has been caught. Andrew Curtis, age 29 has been accused of first degree murder and will face trial in these upcoming weeks. Curtis was caught before laying his hands on his 6th victim, 24 year old Emily Bloise-”

You groaned, awakening to the sound of the TV blasting the news. You didn’t even remember turning it on before going to bed last night. Hell, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You pulled the blankets over your head to block out the noise, as you shifted your legs, you heard a jingling of chains and became aware of the cold clasped around your ankle.

Your body jolted fully awake and you shot up as everything came crashing back to you. You hadn’t been able to sleep last night, you were too nervous for your presentation tomorrow. You were meeting with the one and only Lila Archer. She had gotten word of your design company and was so impressed with your work, she had contacted you to meet with her to discuss designing her vacation “workspace” home in Florida. This was your first celebrity job that would most certainly put you in the big leagues if you got it right or put you six feet under if she hated it. So needless to say your brain would not shut down for the night. 

You had given up on the idea of falling asleep on the rock hard bed the hotel had provided you. Instead you had thrown on some shorts and one of Spencer’s oversized t-shirts you had stolen from him and made your way to get some snacks from the convenience store that was just up the block from your hotel. 

You cautiously made your way up the street, pepper spray in hand. It was 3am and you were no idiot. You were still haunted by the Andrew Curtis case, and you knew deep down so was Spencer. He had gotten you new pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a keychain alarm after the case. He made you promise to carry it everywhere you went and you had held to that promise. It was the haunted look in his eyes that had bothered you the most. 

The bell on the door let at a shrill ring as you entered the store. You gave a small smile and a wave to the man behind the register which he returned. It looked like you were his first customer in a while. 

You wondered the aisles waiting for a snack to catch your eye, when the bell rang again signaling that someone else had entered. You didn’t really pay much attention to it, as you were focused on your very important task at hand; salty or sweet. 

That’s when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was a male silhouette. You struggled to make out any of his features. He had his hood up, with a ball cap pulled low to block his face. Yet even without seeing them, you could still feel his eyes on you. 

Ice went down your spine. Something was not right about this, and you always trusted your instincts. Grabbing a random bag of chips and some chocolate covered pretzels you walked quickly over to the register. You could feel the hooded guy’s eyes burning into you even as you handed your money over to the cashier. 

The cashier didn’t seem to pick up on your discomfort and took his merry time with your purchase. You rushed out of there as soon as he handed you your change and bag. 

You had the urge to call Spencer, but you didn’t want to wake him up if you were just being paranoid, he hardly got enough sleep as it was.

 Glancing over your shoulder, you realized there was no one behind you. You slowed down a bit and caught your breath, chastising yourself for letting your fear get the best of you.

That's when you felt a muscular arm encircle your waste. You began to thrash and scream, but a cloth was thrust over your mouth and with one inhale, you were met with darkness.

And now you were here; a dingy little room with soundproof walls and chains on your ankles.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whispered glancing around. Your fear doubled when your eyes landed on the small TV near the foot of your bed. On it was reruns of the news footage for the Andrew Curtis case. The news footage recapturing every horrific detail. 

You got out of the bed slowly, trying to figure out how to move with the chains around your ankles, and began to take stock of anything that could be made a weapon, but the room did not have much. You paused when you realized this room held details that looked like they were taken right from your home. 

The gray and white duvet was exactly like the one you had on your bed in your apartment, it’s complex design hard to miss. The lamp on the bedside table, which was unfortunately glued down, was the exact replica of the one you had found while thrifting. How this person managed to get a similar one, you had no idea. You shivered when you realized there were cameras all over the room. One in each corner of the room, one on top of the TV and one glued to the bedside table. 

You slowly made your way towards a curtain blocking off something. You took a deep breath and ripped it open, only to find a tiny bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a door. You rushed to the door and attempted to open it. The doorknob rattled, it was locked.

 A voice boomed from a PA system above. “Aw my darling, you’re awake!” The voice was clearly distorted to sound deeper. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “I’m sorry your quarters aren’t that nice, but don’t worry, after we win the game, you and I are going to go someplace where you’ll have everything you’ve ever desired.”

“Who the hell are you?” You growled, your head whipping back and forth to see if there was anyone in the room. “Someone who cares very much about you. Someone who’s been in the shadows waiting for you for a long time.”

“Why don’t you come out and show your face instead of hiding behind a little PA voice system? Only a coward hides in the shadows.” You growled trying to seem unafraid, but your body trembled. 

“Oh no my sweet, there is a game afoot and as tempted as I am to reveal myself, I have something better in mind and I can’t have you ruining it.” He purred.

“Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because darling, I had to open your eyes. You’ve been blinded by awe for your Doctor and you need to see the truth! He doesn’t deserve you, he can’t give you what I can! He leaves you so often, discarding you like a broken toy, only to return later to pick up the pieces.” The voice hissed.

If you weren’t so terrified you would have laughed in the man’s face. “You’re wrong. Spencer is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You argued. 

“You’re a love-struck blind bitch who can’t see the truth.” The voice snarled. “He took so much away from me and I won't let him take you away too. He disgusts me. Stumbling around spewing bullshit and everyone regards him as a God. Guess I am the devil who has to show him the truth.”

________________________________________________________________

Reid glanced around your room, he hated how nothing seemed out of place. Part of him wished it was ransacked so he could find a clue as to who the unsub was, so he could see wrath or vengeance or some sort of motive, but there was nothing. 

Instead he just saw you everywhere. You liked to joke that your room was organized chaos. You had a large calendar above your cream-colored desk with important dates and meetings on it, color coded by importance, yet your desk had your design plans and pencils strewn about it.  Pictures of you and Spencer were taped up precariously around the calendar. Cliché photo-booth pictures that you had begged Spencer for, silly selfies you had taken of the two of you, and some pictures you had snuck of Spencer when he wasn’t looking.

Spencer ripped his gaze away as his heart shattered. He instead dragged his gaze around from that glancing at your bookshelves nearby. Design, fantasy, and sci-fi books were strewn all about the shelves. Spencer dragged his hand along the spines, remembering how you had teasingly refused to read any of Spencer’s “real-world” books. “The real world is too boring, I need my escapism and magic.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you had gone to the adult fantasy section of your favorite bookstore. Spencer had followed you, eager to explain the science magic tricks he knew.

Spencer shook his head, he needed to focus, yet every part of your room held a precious memory. He made his way to your bed, smoothing out the ornate pattern of your gray and white duvet. Your bed was made, each fluffy blanket folded and decorative pillow in place. 

The thing that truly hit Spencer was the lone stuffed animal that sat on the bed. It was a chubby bumblebee stuffed animal. Spencer had surprised you with it, after he witnessed you squeal in delight at it through a storefront window. You had claimed it was your most prized possession and that he would be your snuggle buddy when Spencer was away on cases.

Emily popped her head in through the door. “Hey Reid, any luck? I didn’t find anything.” 

Spencer glanced up at her. “No, everything looks normal. Not a damn thing out of place.” 

“Who’s that you’re holding?” Emily asked gently. 

“Reid. (Y/N) named him that, he would be by her side when I was away. (Y/N) joked that he protected her while I was away. A lot of good he did for her.” Spencer grumbled, shoving the bee back onto the bed. 

That’s when it caught his eye. The empty picture frame. The one that usually held the photo of you and Spencer, the one that had been mutilated and sent to him in a Curtis-like box. 

Spencer observed the frame, turning it this way and that. He heard the tiniest rustling sound of something moving within the frame. He opened the back of it and a folded up piece of paper fell out. 

Emily rushed to Spencer’s side to see what it said. Spencer slowly reached to pick up the paper and opened it.

Good job Doctor! You found something. Hopefully you find her on time! Ring, ring!

Emily looked at Spencer confused. “Ring, ring?” As if on cue Spencer’s phone began to ring. “What’s up, Garcia?” Spencer asked urgently.

“You need to get back to base, now.” Garcia sounded like she was near tears.

________________________________________________________________

You tried to tear your eyes away from the screen, but you couldn’t. The news reruns had turned into home videos that Curtis had made. You remember how Reid had explained that they had found the camera Andrew Curtis had used, but no physical films had been found. “Like they had disappeared.” He had said.

 It had driven him and his team nuts because Curtis had worked alone, so who could have taken the film?

“Aren’t they beautiful darling?” The voice crackled through the PA. “Drew and I put so much work into them. It’s a work of art that Picasso would envy.”

“It’s perverse and disgusting, and it proves how truly sick you and Curtis are!.” You yelled, holding back a sob.

“Yet, part of you can’t bear to look away can you? Have you noticed yet?” He purred. 

You didn’t answer, tears flowed down your cheeks. 

He chuckled at your silence.

 “Oh you have, haven’t you? I bet you thought it was a sick coincidence that they looked like you, huh?” He mocked. “Drew told me all about the haunted looks in your Doctor’s eyes. How weak your Doctor was, how your Doctor could never find them in time. They were always dead before they got there.”

“Spencer worked his ass off to catch Curtis. He managed to stop him and he saved so many more lives than what Andrew Curtis took. Spencer is not weak for not getting there in time. Curtis is sick for killing those girls in the first place!” You snarled through your tears. 

“Ah, ah, ah darling. Drew is not a sick man, he’s a hero. He was like the big brother I never had, he protected me, he made sure even when he was caught I was not. Nobody would know I was even involved with him, so I could achieve my goal of having you- of putting that ridiculous Doctor in his place.”

You remained silent, your body trembling at his confession. Whoever this man was he had worked with Andrew Curtis and he had done it just to get you.

“Every girl was a mere tool to prepare me for when I got my hands on you. Drew told me my time would come. Even when he was caught, we wrote letters back and forth, we had a code you see. Nobody really trusts communication between a prior serial killer and innocent boy, they’ll corrupt you apparently. But we found a way around those who separated us. You see, Drew, my guide, my  brilliant mentor, the man who taught me so many things, was right, now I have you right in my hands.” 

“What are you going to do?” You asked terrified.

“Play a game.” You could hear the smile in the man’s voice.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi​ @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty@generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox@anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01@goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog@secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii @mggsprettygirl​ @bravegirl221​ @messyhairday-me​ @n1ghtsh4d3-67​ @abbeypaw7​ @findmedontlooseme@hiiwouldlikesomesleepplease @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @thatsonezesty13

[333dolans]

If By Chance Pt. 2 // E.D

Part 1

Summary: It’s been 2 years since she’d last seen him, what would happen if by chance they were to meet once more?

Sorry for being gone for so long! Ive been super busy and just haven’t had any time to write. I’ll hopefully post a bit more regularly this year! I love you all mwah!!🥰

4:35pm, Great.

It was the first time she would be seeing Gray in what felt like eternity and she was already late, Classic Rory. In her defence, he had agreed to pick her up but a meeting running over later than expected meant she was left to fend for herself. The fact that she didn’t know her way around LA yet paired along with her general lack of time management left her here, outside of the adorable, little cafe Gray had sent her the address for.

She felt the explosion of butterflies erupt within her stomach at the sight of his car and pulled in next to it. She took a moment to compose her thoughts that seemed to be racing along with her heart. Taking a final deep breath, she climbed out from her car and made a start towards the cafe door.

From the very moment she laid her eyes on his tall figure, nothing could of slowed the pace she ran towards him. She called out his name and as he glanced up from his phone, the widest smile took over his face. Opening up his arms just in time, he caught her in his warm embrace. It felt good to be home.

“I missed you so much.” He sighed contently, spinning her around one more time before placing her body back firmly on the ground.

“Missed you more Grapeson.” She replied with a smirk.

“Wow... that’s gotta be a record, we’ve been together what? One whole minute and you’ve already said it.” He rolled his eyes, coaxing a giggle from Rory.

“I said we were bringing it back my love and i meant it!” She grinned smugly up at him before grabbing his hand and leading them into the coffee shop. As the little bell chimed, they were greeted by an older woman who beamed their way.

“Hello Grayson! Your usual i assume? And what can i get for you sweetheart?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Ill go get us a table, i know the best seats.” Grayson told her before wondering off to a far corner in the store.

“Ill get a hot chocolate please.” She replied graciously with a shy smile and the woman was quick to get started on the order.

“I’m Genevieve by the way but you my dear, can call me Gen! You know Grayson never mentioned he had a girlfriend, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She began to make small talk as she poured Grayson’s coffee into its cup. Rory choked on air at gen’s words, gaping at her in shock.

“Were- were not together, just good friends.” She said with a deep blush.

“Oh my bad! You two would make a beautiful couple if i might say.”

Rory couldn’t help but smile at Gen’s bluntness, she loved her already. After some more casual conversation, Rory said her thank you to Gen and headed off toward the table Grayson had saved, gently placing their drinks on the tabletop before sliding into the booth seat. These seats in particular looked out onto a beautiful landscape and Rory couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she sank lower into the leather of the seat, this day couldn’t have gone any better. Nothing had changed between her and gray and she couldn’t be more thankful.

The two sat and talked for hours as the sun began to set on the city that awaited them just outside of the window. They filled each other in on everything and anything they could think of, from childhood memories to the launch of wakeheart. It was inevitable really, that they would eventually end up on the topic of a certain twin brother. No matter how much Rory had tried to change the subject, he always found a way back into the conversation, she knew shed have to face the music someday anyway, may as well bite the bullet sooner rather than later.

“He misses you, you know? He may be an absolute idiot and too damn stubborn to ever admit it but i know that he does. He still reads through your old messages and looks at old photos. He still checks your socials every now and then, I’ve seen him.”

Rory sighed with a small shake of her head.

“Gray, he dropped me remember? No one told him he had to do that, he got a girlfriend and she became more important. That’s life i guess and I’ve dealt with that knowledge for years now. He prioritised her over me and that’s on him.” She let her gaze drift from his face to the window beside her, now littered with stray raindrops from the light drizzle that had began.

She allowed herself to breathe deeply, basking in the feelings that a crisp fall breeze always managed to stir within her. God, did she love autumn. Nothing could compare to the sight of the leaves changing to colours of fire and passion before her very eyes. Along with the colder weather came rainy days, and with rainy days? Time she could spend huddled up in front of a window reading whatever book she’d chosen for that week. Everyone who has ever known Rory, would know full well she would would be half way through that book within the space of a few hours.

Something about the rain had always enticed her, she felt a strange comfort within the damp weather that left most people feeling miserable. She thrived in it, wanting nothing more than to cozy up in fluffy socks and warm layers of clothes and watch droplets race along the panes of the nearest window.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Slightly startled from his sudden appearance, she beckoned her breathing to calm down to a steady pace once again. She allowed her eyes to trail up his tall frame, soaking him in as much as she could. There stood Ethan in all his glory along with a piping hot mug of her favourite, hot chocolate. Rory was never much of a coffee drinker, always having a sweet tooth and preferring the chocolatey taste to the bitterness a cup of coffee would leave in her mouth for hours. Besides, no one likes coffee breath. She allowed her gaze to retreat back to its fixed spot, staring out into the forest that lined the perimeter of the Dolan’s backyard.

“Then I hate to break it to you E but you’ll be short of quite a few pennies by the time you’ve heard all of the thoughts that are running around my mind right now.”

She allowed a defeated sigh to slip past her lips, filling the silence that had fallen between the two. It was true, her mind had been all over the place ever since the moment the twins had told her of their plan to pursue a career in Los Angeles. She felt like her world was collapsing in on her and in a way, it was. Her whole life as she knew it consisted of Ethan and Grayson Dolan, she had spent practically everyday with the pair for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that chapter of her life to be over.

“A hot chocolate instead? Please Rory, talk to me. I know this is going to be a big change for you, but it is for me and Grayson too yeah? Were all going to be feeling the same emotions in the next few weeks, we have to be there for each other and I can’t do that if you wont open up to me.”

Sliding down opposite her small frame on the cold hardwood floor of his childhood home, Ethan couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by his emotions. This had been his home for many years, it contained so many memories. These very walls had been witness to the life of the three best friends and the idea of leaving this part of his life behind, leaving his best friend behind? It tore Ethan to pieces but he was also optimistic for this exciting new chapter. He tried to remain positive and think of the new adventures they will get to have in the city of angels. The memories he can make with the ones he holds closest.

“Everything is changing E. I don’t think I’m ready to move on from this, I don’t want to be left behind again. I’m going to be so alone here, you guys are the only real friends I have. I don’t want to lose you, or Grayson.”

A stray tear made it’s way down her cheek as the rain continued outside. She looked up to meet the eyes of her best friend, the boy she’d always love. His hand reached out for hers and clasped it tightly in his own. She saw a flash of hope flash across his beautiful brown eyes that she adored so much.

“You could come with us you know? There’s a spare room in the apartment and you know I...we would love to have you there with us. We could go on so many adventures and explore California and we could-“

“E, as wonderful as that sounds, you know my mom would never let me just drop everything and go. What about school? College? You know what she expects of me. I really wish it was that simple.”

In that moment, Rory swore she saw a small piece of Ethan’s heart break away before her very eyes. She forced her tears back, choking slightly from the lack of air that seemed to be escaping her lungs. Why did this have to be so hard? Ethan paused for what felt like eternity before speaking once more.

“I’m going to miss you so much my little lion, so fucking much.”

He outstretched his arms, his warm embrace calling her name. She crawled over to him, closing the small gap that was between them. She clung to his torso as he stroked his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Nothing is going to change between us Rory, absolutely nothing.”

“Why don’t you come back to our place? I’m not ready to say goodbye yet anyway and I know he’d love to see you. Please, just for a little while?” Gray’s words snapped her back from her reminiscing. He looked into her eyes with such hope, she just couldn’t say no to him.

“God damn those puppy eyes” she cursed under her breath, causing a smirk from Grayson who sat opposite her with a triumphant look on his face.

“I better not regret this Dolan.”

Tags: @rhyrhy462 @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @fangdolan @livexdolan @blindedbythelightt @baby-grayson @prettyboydolan @delightfuldolan @sosweetgrethan @episkygrant @resilientdolan @pineappledols @vinylhazza @hydrograyson @velvetdolan @baby-turtles @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @mercurygrant @abstractstardiva @guiltydols @blazedgraysons @blackpinkdolan @vintagedolan @babeygray @babey-gray @dolanpornhub @onlyyyariii @voidmalfoy @glossydols @graysonsdolansbabygirl @spideysimpossiblegirl @lovingdolans @bubsdolan @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @dolansbeanies @graydolan12 @dolantissue @thecharlietomygillespie @dolandolll @boujeeethan @softethan @risedols @evreths @everydaydolan

[donutloverxo]

Salty Baby

Chapter four

Authors note- I use the term daddy too liberally to the point where it has become a joke so I didn't think I could write this but here we are lol. If you want in on the taglist let me know. Don't be afraid to leave feedback I don't bite, not in a bad way anyway. Happy reading 💕

Please do not repost or steal my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn’t what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn’t going to pay your rent and college loans.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings- smut, daddy kink, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, slight kink shaming, angst, spanking

Word count- 3.2k

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter five

Masterlist

You woke up the next morning expecting to be on your sisters couch. You rubbed your eyes taking in your surroundings. Then you remembered, you were in Steve’s bedroom. His bed. You clenched your thighs when you felt the dull ache still present from last night’s activities.

You looked around to put something on. To cover your non-existent modesty. You grabbed a sweatshirt that was on top of his dresser. Hoping to be like one of those sexy girl in movies with their morning after glow.

You looked around his living room calling out for him. You didn’t get a chance to get a good look at his apartment last night. You were upset with your sister and then turned on by him.

His apartment, unlike Steve, looked like it didn’t have any personality. All the furniture looked generic, straight out of a IKEA catalogue. Something that caught your eye, the strip of photos you took with him in a photo booth at a fall festival you had been to.

You smiled at it your heart swelling. He was probably more crazy about you than you were about him.

There were a few old framed photo frames beside it. You recognized some of the people. One was of Steve, Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. And another of Steve and probably his best friend Bucky.

Steve always talked fondly of him. He was excited when he mentioned Bucky, but then he’d get this far away lost look in his eyes. If you could take his pain from him, you would. That’s not how it works though. You knew that better than anyone.

You jumped when Steve called your name. “In the kitchen” He yelled.

You entered the kitchen to see him cutting up strawberries. He was wearing a tight white tank top that left very little to your imagination. His usually combed hair now messed up.

“Good morning” He grinned widely at you.

You could certainly feel the afterglow radiating off of him. You felt a bit self conscious, you hadn’t brushed your teeth or made your hair. You were only wearing his sweatshirt that barely reached your legs and looked comically big on you.

“Good morning” You took a seat at the small table. “Oh I don’t drink coffee” You said looking at the cup of coffee in front of you.

“I know that’s for me” He winked at you “I made you some tea” He poured out your tea in a cup setting it in front of you.

You giggled at the smiley face he made on your pancake with strawberries and whipped cream “Thank you” you kissed his cheek.

You both ate your breakfast in what can only be described as comfortable silence. You didn’t feel like you had to talk or entertain him. You were still drained from everything that happened last night and the busy week you had.

“Here” he handed you a key after he had done the dishes.

You took it from him looked at him confused.

“It’s a key” He stated as if it’s a fact.

“I can see that” You deadpanned

“To my apartment. This apartment. I don’t know what you want to do but I’d like you to stay” He said awkwardly turning red. He was always cute like that. “It’s completely okay if you don’t want to. But you said you didn’t like living with your sister”

Which was true. You didn’t get a moments peace with your toddler nephews and your annoying sister. But then again she had always been good at taking advantage of you.

“I... Are you sure?” You asked fiddling with the keychain.

“Yeah. I uh.. have to leave though”

You whipped your head up “Where are you going?”

“Got called up on a mission for two days. Give or take a few. You can stay here as long as you like”

“I know you already said that” You were a bit sad at him leaving but grateful for his kindness.

You decided to stay with Steve at least for a couple of days. Maybe Anna would come to her senses and see just how much she needs you.

Steve dropped you off at your apartment wishing you luck. Which you needed. You’d rather not be here but you had to get your pills. You had been on them since you can remember. You were apprehensive about them at first but they helped control your anaemia. You couldn’t be careless with them now that you were actually sexually active. Your nephews served as excellent encouragement to take birth control.

You opened the door, which Anna forgot to lock as always, and walked into the living room. You hastily started stuffing some clothes, your books and your pills in a bag.

You cringed when you heard Anna call out your name. You turned around to see her glaring at you.

“Where were you last night?” She spat obviously still fuming at you.

“I was at my boyfriends” You continued packing your things. The sooner you’re out of here the better.

“Well where do you think you’re going now?” She folded her hands staring you down. As if that would stop you.

“I’m going to live with him from now on”

“What?!” she yelled you cringed again. “Who is this guy? I’ve never even met him. You’ve known him for a month! You know better than that” She said condescendingly shaking her head.

She had some nerve questioning your life choices. “Didn’t you and Brock have a shot gun wedding?”

“Doesn’t he live in Manhattan? How are you going to afford rent?” She evaded your question.

Steve would never even let you pay for popcorn you highly doubt he'd ask for rent. “You don’t have to worry about that” You strapped the bag onto your shoulders.

“You’ve known him for a month! Have you lost your mind!”

“I know him enough. I’m in love with him” you looked at her shocked at your own words. You had never told anyone you loved them. You had surely never been in love. There wasn’t much to not love about Steve. But would he feel the same way?

“Oh my god. You went and got yourself a sugar daddy”

“What the fuck is that? I don’t do those kind of things!” You had heard of it being a kink from your classmates and coworkers. However it never appealed to you.

“Yeah you made fun of me for letting men take care of me and now you’re doing the exact same thing”

“Whatever” You waved her off. You had packed as much as you could. You still had a few things left, but you could take care of them later. “Don’t I deserve to be taken care of? After everything I’ve been through?” You suppressed the urge to smack her when she rolled her eyes at you. “Can I say goodbye to the kids?” You asked.

They were little cretins but they were occasionally somewhat nice to you. After hugging them both, they probably couldn’t understand that you wouldn’t be living with them anymore, and some more glares and swears from Anna, you left deciding to never look back.

***

It had been over a month since your fight with Anna. You were still living with Steve. He had convinced you to quit your job at the cafe. It ate up too much of your time. You didn’t need the money now that you didn’t have to pay rent. You still had your job at your college library.

You had found, after doing a quick google search, that a sugar daddy is 'a rich older man who lavishes gifts on a young woman in return for her company or sexual favours'

Which was true for you and Steve. He was older than you, by almost a century. You weren’t sure if he was rich. You thought so but it was hard to tell with his simple and humble way of life. You never bothered to ask him because it didn’t really matter. He liked to buy you things. You accepted them to indulge him. It was hard to say no when he looked at you with those puppy eyes.

The search for what sugar daddy meant sent you into a deeper dive. Full of porn and erotica with women and men calling their partners daddy. You still couldn’t comprehend it’s appeal. Why would anyone be turned on by that?

You did clench your thighs together, rubbing them whenever you thought of Steve like that. He was somewhat of a ‘daddy’ in bed. In the way that he always took care of you, never letting you do too much work, always making you feel protected. You would be too exhausted from all the orgasms anyway.

It was very vanilla and conventional, you mostly only had soft slow missionary sex. Steve was afraid to hurt you which you understood. You weren’t keen on getting hurt either. Maybe some kinds of hurt weren’t so bad...

It maybe vanilla and boring to some people but to you it was passionate and satisfying in every way.

You were lying on your back, panting heavily from the multiple orgasms Steve had given you with his mouth.

You wiped your forehead with your right hand, catching a glimpse of the platinum bracelet he’d got you for your two month anniversary. He loved celebrating the little things in life. You would too if you were frozen in ice for seventy years.

He had taken you for that horse carriage he was so excited about and a nice dinner. You did feel bad about not getting him anything. However he didn’t seem to mind. You had to repay him somehow.

You felt him line himself up to your entrance. This has been the routine more or less for the past month. Almost everyday Steve would eat you out and then make love to you until you couldn’t even walk straight. He never even let you get a good look at his dick.

You abruptly stopped him sitting up straight. He looked at you confused. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You gave him a evil smirk matched inversely by your big innocent eyes. You licked a strip up your hand all the while maintaining eye contact with him. Taking his thick length in your hand you started stroking it. Slowly and steadily building up your pace.

You had never sucked a cock before. You didn’t think you could, considering just how big and thick Steve was. But looking at the white creamy slick coming out of his angry red tip, you had to get a taste. You did owe him after all.

You placed a small kiss on the tip smearing some of his cum on your lips. You dragged you tongue over your bottom lip to get a taste. It was salty and musky. In a strange way it tasted a lot like Steve.

Feeling a bit more sure of yourself you licked a few stripes up his tip and then moved on to licking his slit.

Steve was cursing and moaning above you. He had bunched up your hair in his hand. He was always afraid to lose control, he had a reputation to maintain after all.

He grabbed a hold of your chin, making you look up at him. “You don’t have to do that” His hard cock in your hand and his shortness of breath betrayed his words.

You ignored him, continuing to lick him up and savor as much of his delicious taste as you can. Finally you took him in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around his tip. You couldn’t swallow him whole so you stroked the rest of his length with your hand.

He bunched up your hair in his hand tugging it before letting go and holding onto your shoulder.

You weren’t having it. You took his hand putting it on the back of your head. Silently asking him to fuck your face.

He choked a groan back when he looked down at you. His cock in your mouth, your beautiful eyes pleading him to fuck you. He used both his hand to grab onto your face stilling you. He thrusted himself in and out of your mouth, being careful not to be too hard, he didn’t want you choking on him. He directed you to fondle his balls. You complied. You always complied with him.

He felt himself on the edge of orgasm. But he didn’t want to come in your mouth. He pulled out of your mouth.

“I want your come in my mouth” You whined trying to swallow him whole again.

He smacked your hands away. He gave his cock a few strokes with his hand, much to your dismay. You just looked so cute scowling at him. “Some other time” He grunted giving his cock a some more strokes before stopping “let’s try something new. Get on your hands and knees” he ordered.

Like the good girl that you were you arched your ass presenting it to him. He grabbed and groped at it before sliding into you, which was fairly easy considering how soaked you were. He rutted in you for a while you whined and thrashed.

“Daddy” You moaned.

He stilled his thrusts. His hands still holding onto your hips. Did you say what he think you said?

“What did you say?” He asked just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

You avoid him grinding onto his cock to distract him. He squeezed your hips, stopping your movements. Bending over he draped himself on your back. “What did you say?” He whispered in your hair.

“Daddy” You mumbled.

He kneeled back to his original position and carried on with his assault on your pussy. He spread your cheeks to get a good look at his cock sliding in and out of you. It was soaked in yours and his juices.

“Say it again” when you hesitated he gave a harsh slap to your asscheek. If you were going to call him daddy he had to act like one.

“Fuck daddy” You groaned “Spank me again” You begged.

He slapped your ass a couple more time before spreading them to look at the mesmerizing scene again.

“Oh god I’m going to come” You slithered and squirmed under him screaming profanities at him while he fucked you through your orgasm. Your hands and legs gave out. You dropped to your stomach trying hard to hold on for him

He felt himself tipping over the edge again. He bent down to hug you. He curled his hands under you one fondling your breast and the other stroking your stomach.

He always needed to be close to you when he filled you up. His thrusts because erratic, almost inhumane.

“I love you” he groaned as he came inside you, filling you up. He tried not to drop too much of his weight on you.

After a while he pulled out and covered you both with the comforter, spooning you.

“Hey you asleep?” he shifted a bit to get comfortable. With no answer from you “I meant it you know. I love you” he continued.

“I love you too” you murmured. It didn’t feel strange when the words rolled off of your tongue like you expected. It felt easy and safe. “You make me feel safe” You whispered shyly “And not just because you’re strong. But because you’re you...”

He smiled to himself. You made him feel safe as well. Safe to be himself and to not have to pretend. He kissed your hair feeling himself fall for you even harder.

[anjanettexcordonia]

Living Proof

Chapter 1

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir A/U

Catch Up Here Living Proof A/U

Rating/Triggers: Mature (18+) some language; alcohol consumption; infidelity  

Pairings: Drake x MC; Liam x MC; Drake x OC 

Word count: 1354 (+/-)

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors. I apologize for my unexpected hiatus but the holiday season has been BUSY! As I am sure most of you can relate! I will be getting back to my other series as well. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing. 

Summary: The aftermath of the events in New York. How Liam handles the betrayal, it’s not what you expect. Even a King is still a human. 

Disclaimer: Some characters & some scenes belong to Pixelberry. 

Tags: If you would like to be added or removed please let me know. 

PermaTags: @yourmajesty09​ @gkittylove99​ @kingliam2019​ @texaskitten30​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @mom2000aggie​

Series Tags: @tinkie1973​ @cordonianroyalty​ @txemrn​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​

We touched down on the private tarmac in Cordonia. “Let’s go, Riley, Mara is waiting for you with the kids.” Liam stated as he grabbed my hand and pulled me from my seat. “Why are the kids here Liam?” I asked, confused. Liam ignored my question as we made our way off the jet. Ellie and William were hand in hand with Lindsay as we disembarked. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment. I had no idea what Liam had told her or what she knew. “Mommy Daddy!” Our children's small voices exclaimed at our arrival. Together.  They both were the spitting image of their father with their blonde hair and blue eyes. Neither received my hair and caramel eyes. I always felt the stark contrast between my family. 

Liam picked up our four year old daughter and swirled her around in his arms into a tight hug. He knelt down and reached his arm to his namesake, our son William. “Daddy has to go on another trip, but mommy is staying this time.” Liam kissed both of their hands. I felt taken off guard by his revelation. “Liam?” I questioned. “I’m going away for awhile Riley. I need to figure things out.” He whispered making sure to not let the little ears around us catch on. Olivia is coming from Lythikos to help.” Liam turned back towards the jet. “Wait, Liam.” I called after him. Liam stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn. “It’s for the best Riley.” He boarded the jet and the door closed behind him. 

I felt the tears forming in my eyes and my labor breathing to take over. But my children were watching, I couldn’t let them know their world was crashing down around them. Lindsay helped me load the children into the suv while Mara loaded my bags into the suv. I never spoke a word about Liam's departure, nor anything else. Regret filled me once again, as we watched my husband fly into the dark horizon. I lost a piece of me on that jet with him. He took a piece of me everywhere with him. I tear trickled down my cheek at the realization of my selfishness. 

I watched my wife, who just a few months ago I adored and trusted unconditionally, load our children into the black Escalade. I had no idea whether she would go back to the palace or Valtoria. Probably Valtoria so she could stew in her regret in private. Her face when I said I was leaving, filled with guilt that she attempted to hide. Why she did what she did I didn’t know, and right now I don’t care. We fought to be with her. I almost gave up my country for her. I made her a Queen, I gave her two beautiful children and I tried to show her everyday how much I loved her. But it wasn’t enough. 

I grabbed a bottle of liquor. No glass was needed. I’m headed for the solace of the beach. My island. It was a short flight but intended to be completely inebriated on arrival. I planned to drink my feelings away until I’m able to sort them out. “Sir, we have about forty five minutes until we land on the island.” The flight attendant spoke to me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and swiped it open. A text from Bastien had come through while my jet was on the ground. 

“On the ground with Walker. He’s meeting Mrs. Walker at the Walker Estate. Leo confirmed he would look after Riley in your absence. Godspeed sir.”

I sighed a breath of relief that Bastien and Leo would be there in my stead as I worked things out. I scrolled to my photo album and pulled the photo of Riley and I from our last anniversary trip a few months ago. Before I found about her infidelity and Drake’s betrayal. I stared at the photo of Riley and I. I don’t know what happened or why. We were so happy. At least I thought we were. I took another large gulp from the bottle in my hand. 

Am I better off without her? Did we grow apart? Did she ever love me? The thoughts consumed me as I consumed the bottle of amber liquid in my hand. 

Drake slithered into my thoughts like a rattlesnake looking for warmth in a frozen desert. I can’t deal with the thoughts of his betrayal with my wife. I’d sooner banish him from Cordonia but Lindsay but didn’t deserve it. I took a few more swigs from the bottle of scotch in front of me to numb the feelings of anger and betrayal I felt towards the most important people in my life. 

We landed on the island Riley and I had spent our honeymoon. My island. I disembarked from the jet to the sounds of the loud thump of music in the distance. “What’s going on Anthony?” I asked as I stumbled down the stairs of the jet. “Cordonia University college students sir. You approved their use of the island for their spring festivities.” My security officer informed me. “Fuck. I forgot about that.” I took another swig of the half empty bottle of scotch in my hand.

 “Might as well join the party, fuck it.” I attempted not to slur my words, failing miserably. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, you just flew 13 hours sir.” 

“Yup.” I responded. I was starting to get annoyed by Anthony’s presence. “I’ll be fine. Take my bags to the beach house.” Anthony bowed and headed to the cargo area of the place. 

I made my way to the resort filled with drunk college kids. The thumping of the music grew louder as I neared the large pool and cabana area. 

I went wheels up on a runway 

And that ticket was a one way

I’m somewhere on a beach sippin’ something strong 

Got a new girl she’s got it going on 

Was thumping over the speakers. How fitting I thought. 

All of a sudden screams and cheers erupted drowning out the music. 

“King Liam has arrived” came over the speakers. 

A smile spread across my face as the screams grew louder. I walked to the DJ booth and took the microphone from the extended hand of the disc jockey, no invitation necessary. 

“Cordonian University! Go big Red!” I yelled into the microphone. The screams erupted. The bikini clad girls and shirtless men hooped and hollered as they held their red solo cups of cheap alcohol in the air. I waited for the screams to calm before I continued. “I have a task for you all tonight. We’re going to drink until I can’t remember what I came here to forget!” 

Bottles of champagne popped and sprayed over the crowd. Splashes came from the pool as young legs students jumped in. I made my way into the crowd of dancing bodies.

A few hours of drinking and partying my worries away with a bunch of young college students, I had my friends with a small group that had convinced me to do a keg stand. I handed my phone to a young brunette named Brittany. “Record it.” As I handed her the phone, the Queen rang with a FaceTime call. “Liam” Brittany called, “the QUEEN is calling.” I didn’t hear what she said. I threw my legs in air and sucked on the keg spout as Brittany hit the green button. Riley watched as I chugged cheap beer. The crowd around me chanted “Long Live the King!” as I chugged. “FOR CORDONIA!!” I screamed as I jumped to my feet with my arms in the air.

“Sir it’s the Queen.” Brittany handed my phone to me, her face white as a sheet. “LIAM WERE THE FUCK ARE YOU.” Riley screamed through the phone, her face filled with anger.

“Hey my Queen. I’m somewhere on a beach. I'm way too gone to have you on my mind.” I laughed and hit the end button and threw my phone into the pool. 

[lokiandbuckyaremine]

Sleepovers and Braiding Hair

Prompt: “Hi I saw your prompt list :) could you do 5 with Loki where Loki feels sad that he still doesn’t fit in too well with the team and the reader is just trying to hard to get his attention and asks him to join her to a sleepover in her room where they paint each other’s nails and watch movies and stuff and he’s all like “do you really want to spend time with me???” All soft and she’s like duh your awesome and my new bestie/secret crush” ~ Anon

5. If It is worth spending time with you, I will gladly do it.

Warnings: Fluffy LOKI!!!!!!!!! Kissing and maximum cutie

(PROMPT LIST) ~ Requests are OPEN! 

It was his mysterious ways. It was the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was the way he always knew the right thing to say. You could name 100 things things you loved about Loki, but there was something that still held you back from coming up front and telling him. Maybe it was the fact that he was oblivious to EVERY hint you dropped him. Ever since the attack in New York, Loki felt that everyone in the Avengers hated him even though they started to warm up to the little trickster. There had to be some way you could break through to him....

Thoughts kept stirring in your head as you checked your watch, noticing it was almost time for dinner. It was Cap’s night to cook, and you couldn’t wait because he was making homemade pizza, a tradition from where he grew up. Walking down the hallway, you passed Loki’s room and saw the door was open. His room is NEVER open. You peaked inside and saw no one was in there, so being the nosy person you are you started to look around. His room was oddly simple: a bed, a couple of bookshelves with spell books and whatnot, some Asgardian decor, but then there was this one item that caught your attention....a frame. It contained a picture set from a photo booth you dragged him into last summer. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You and Loki became very good friends, and were finally able to spend the day together. You had showed him around the local places and brought him to an amusement park where you had fallen hard for the god. It was when Loki asked to go on the ferris wheel at night when you knew he was the one for you. Thoughts of that amazing day were interrupted when you heard a squeaking sound, almost like a faucet turning off. You gulped and remembered him and Thor shared a bathroom that was connected between the two rooms.

Trying to find a place to hide, you tripped over the accent rug that was in the middle of Loki’s floor and landed with an ‘oof’. You heard snickering and peered to see a dangerously shirtless Loki hovering above you. “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, love.” He extended his hand to help you up and you stuck your tongue out at him. “Very funny. Was just coming in here to tell you dinner is almost ready.” He nodded and noticed you were still staring at his chiseled chest. Clearing his throat, Loki walked over to his dresser to throw on a tank. Why did he have to be your “friend”? He was so damn sexy. 

Not even thinking, you regretted the question that was about to come out of your mouth. “Hey, you wanna have a sleepover?” Loki froze and peered over his shoulder, clueless. “I beg your pardon.” He walked slowly over towards you and crossed his arms. “WELL, I was thinking that I could treat you to a sleepover and kinda make it like a hangout. We haven’t done that in a while. Just us two.” It’s true. You and Loki haven’t been hanging out for a long time and you wondered why he switched his attention to elsewhere. He raised an eyebrow still wondering why you’re asking. Loki knew that you have always been the one person to include him with everything: training, hanging out, movie nights, anything that you loved to do. Though he felt unsure where it would lead or how the team would react, he knew you were asking from your heart. And after all he missed the times you shared together. He shrugged and threw an arm around you. “If it is worth spending time with you, I will gladly do it.” You squealed and squeezed him. “Yay! Ok, so after dinner I’ll set up everything and wait for you.” 

You were so different than he was...selfless, caring, loving, yet knew how to handle your own business and that’s what he loved about you. He was scared but just waiting for the right moment to admit it...

When dinner was over and you were stuffed, you rushed upstairs to prepare your room for the ultimate sleepover. Not knowing how he’d react, you didn’t overload it with cheesy sleepover activities. It was going to be a big step for your friendship, and you felt that Loki would figure out your feelings. BUT this was your plan: movies, popcorn, maybe some cuddling, but more importantly you were going to tell him how you felt. Fluffing up another pillow, you smiled at your clean and lightly dimmed room with Loki’s favorite candle burning in scattered areas. A soft knock on your door made your heart flutter and you leaped over to it. Opening it, you came face to face with a rather comfortable looking Loki. He wore an impossibly tight black henley with baggy black sweatpants and his hair in a low bun. “I hear there is a sleepover, mind if I crash it?” He smirked down at you and you could feel the slow heat rising to your cheeks. 

Motioning him in, you gazed over to him, seeing he was getting wrapped in his surroundings. A smile painted his face as he inhaled the familiar scent of Mahogany. “Ah, Mahogany. You know me so well, love.” Giggling you went to grab his hand and he was a bit hesitant. A worried look came to your face and he could tell he was making you uneasy. “Sorry, it’s just I’ve never done something like this. Especially with you.” You stuck your hip out and shot him a very unamused look. “Loki, we’ve known each other for a very long time. Trust me.” Those words. No one has ever gave him the capability of holding them. But you were his safe haven. 

Instead of you trying to grab his hand again, he walked over and touched your cheek with his palm. It was so soft and you nearly melted with his touch. Peering up to his blue eyes, you noticed that he was giving you permission to do whatever you had wanted to. Smirking devilishly you pulled him over to the bed and asked him to sit on the floor. “Can’t I just stay on the bed with you, darling?” He waited for an answer as you popped in “13 Going On 30″ and kept smiling. “Shhh, the movie’s about to start.” He sighed dramatically and shook his head. “You really are something, my love. You’re so lucky I love you.” 

Your head snapped to him and you squinted your eyes, as if you were making sure you heard him right. “What did you just say?” Eyes wide, Loki cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Shhh, movie’s starting.” His attention focused on the TV as you climbed on the bed behind him and began to undo his bun. Surprisingly he wasn’t phased by this and remained watching. Running your fingers through his long black locks, you could see that he was leaning into your touch with every stride you made. Grabbing two pieces of hair, you began to French Braid. Loki just hummed and even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Love, your hands are like heaven. Please don’t stop.” You giggled in response, and leaned forward to press a kiss on the side of his cheek. 

He jumped in response and got up quickly, causing you to slid back on the bed. The both of you stared at one another, unsure of how he just took your bold action. Feeling really awkward, you got up and walk towards the door. “I’m sorry, Loki. I shouldn’t have done that. Maybe you should leave.” He remained to stare at you, unable to put together that you felt the same way he wanted to be with you. A small tear was beginning to form on your eyelid as you thought you had just ruined your friendship and possible relationship with him. But Loki instead walked over to you quickly and crashed his lips on yours. The kiss got more and more heated as he pressed you against the wall behind you and pressed his body to yours; kissing you like his life depended on it. You’ve dreamed of this moment for a very long time. Smiling through the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and braced for what was about to come. Your hands slid into his thick black hair and he moaned at the slight tugs you gave. He held you tightly against him as his mouth moved perfectly against yours; driving you crazy. His tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan into the kiss. 

After what felt like forever, you both pulled apart and stared into the other’s eyes. His devilish smirk filled his face. “I have been wanting to do that for a very long time, my darling.” You giggled and pulled apart slightly. “Really? Cause I feel like whenever I tried to drop hints to you, it never worked.” He laughed and ran his fingers through his now messy hair. “Well duh, you’ve been a long time crush of mine and I wasn’t sure how you felt about being that way with me.” Bringing him over to the bed, you both sat down as you grabbed his hand. “Loki, I planned this night just so I could finally tell you how I feel. How i want to be with you everyday and have you make love to me. How I love the way you’re so mysterious yet light-hearted when you’re with me. This was my night, but you kinda picked it up beforehand.” If there was anything that could be perfect, it was his smile at you in that moment. The crinkles appeared on the sides of his eyes and his teeth were glistening in the dim light.

“You really want to spend your time with me?” He grazed your jaw with his thumb and you hummed back. Bringing you closer to him, you sank into his chest and breathed his warm scent. “Well, then I’m all yours, darlin. You made me a new man and I’m forever grateful for that. You want to have sleepovers for the rest of our lives?” Giggling into his chest, you brought yourself up to place a small kiss on his soft lips. “If it means sleeping next to the love of my life, then yes.” Sealing the moment with yet more kisses, you stood up with him. “What do you say we get rid of these clothes, my love, and I’ll show you how I want my sleepovers to go?” Loki’s eyes were dark and you could tell he wanted you right then and there. Nodding quickly, you both shed what was left of your clothes and gathered in bed for what would be the most romantic night of your life. 

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A/N: SORRY this one was a lil long. But I really hope the anon liked this. Who doesn’t love sexy and soft Loki? PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT, AND REBLOG! 

Tag List (Open): @jobean12-blog @littlenerdgirl16 @jokesonjess @jewels2876 @mashtons-dirtbag @hernameiswhatt @ballyhoobarnes @lauxeyson @thiddlestoff @thatbitchsaidhi @marvelous-heroimagines @iamwarrenspeace @violentlybarnes @moondancewrites @toddneilanderperry @mizz-kraziii @lovelybones81 @thinemineours @godohammers @buckywhoops @thatfangirl16​ @thummbelina​ @notyourtypicalrose

[bates--boy]

          “And that was our top twenty throwback playlist! After the break, we have a real treat for you this afternoon, especially you long-time listeners of KUVL 92.8 The Sun School!”

          God, the guy they now have at the booth sounded like such an amateur, trying to make up for his lacking disc jockeying skills with zaniness. Sure, Peter knew that it was unfair for him to judge what could possibly be a student trying his best at the mic because no one was born exceptional at a skill, but still...

          Peter shakes his head with a sigh and turns his attention back to the flyer draft on his computer. Since graphic design was not Peter’s passion, he was going to leave the artistic rendering to Ashira. All he needed to do was get his big idea onto paper. So, the commercial break played on, Peter mindlessly listening along (though his ears did perk up at the mention of a familiar name of a night club, with Peter thinking, Huh, I haven’t hit that place up in a minute...) as he focused on the document. 

          Everything was there, from the arranged time everyone agreed to perform to ticket price and website address, and the pièces de résistance: location.

          “Welcome back, listeners!” the DJ greeted the soundwaves. “Before the break, I told you about some exciting news we wanted to share with you all. Long-time listeners might remember Peter Kirkland, Karlstad Uni alum and even KUVL’s long-time DJ, has joined up with The MizFists! No, not the Misfits. They’re going live and going big, and you would not believe where! Find out more and get your tickets at MizFists dot com. That’s M-I-Z-F-I-S-T-S dot com. Find them on YouTube or wherever you listen to awesome beats.”

          That was too short of an advertisement, but it will do; any listeners who missed it will get the opportunity to see it on the millions of flyers passed out at the university’s campus or the town square, shoved in available mailboxes, luring people in with the promise of a truly underground experience. Because, truly, who can resist a semi-secret indie show held illegally in an abandoned and possibly dangerous train station? counterculture romantics are orgasming and they don’t even know why yet.

          It would all work out brilliantly, if Peter would just submit the final information to Ashira, instead of sitting curled up in his chair and staring at the screen, trying to figure out what the hell was missing...

         His eyes drifted to the stack of paperbacks. Ashira’s and Naseem’s loans, threatening to teeter over off the small corner area they had been delegated to. Peter had only managed to get through three of them, and he was going to have to return them soon. (Naseem hadn’t sweat him about his books, but Ashira, patient as she tried to be, obviously wanted hers back, particularly her favorite Rumi collection. A spine caught his eye, and Peter lifted a handful of books to pick it out of the collection, a well-loved copy of A House of Pomegranates. A bookmark substitute, which was a ticket print test for the show, was planted a quarter of the way in the book. He remember seeing photos of Wilde’s grave circulating the world wide web, desecrated in the most wondrous way: lipstick kisses. 

          And that was when Peter decided, after setting down the book, to draw a box in the corner of the flyer and add at the top: “Kiss here and post a pic. Tag #mizfists for special shout-out!”

        “Oscar, lend me your strength,” Peter murmured. With that, he sent the document on its way, and picked up the Wilde book to continue on with the stories. 

[romancandlemagazine]

An Interview with Alexander Wolfe, the man behind Pedestrian Magazine

Pedestrian is a magazine about the humble art of walking. In this interview, I talked with the man with the plan, Alexander Wolfe, about his love for this much maligned form of transport, his recent expedition from New York to Philadelphia, and the art of conversation.

First off, you recently walked from New York City to Philadelphia over nine days. What made you want to do that?

The initial desire to walk to Philadelphia came out living in New York City during the pandemic. I was bound to my apartment for a few months with little to do but walk around my neighborhood. I've always had a habit of walking around the city, but the pandemic only made these walks longer and longer, which eventually led to a 23 mile journey from my apartment in Brooklyn, to the Bronx, and back.

Around that time I was reading The Roads to Sata by Alan Booth and started contemplating longer, multi-day walks. I needed a change of scenery and found the idea of traveling by foot and living out of a bag very appealing. I felt like I'd developed a process here in the city (go on a walk, take photos, write a newsletter about the walk, repeat) and needed to give myself a challenge.  I wanted to lean further into this practice that I've been developing for the last three years.

I'd never considered my walks to be hikes, so it made sense that I'd keep it in an urban setting. Walking to Philadelphia seemed like a no-brainer. What most people don't initially realize is that most of my time was spent walking through New Jersey. I liked the idea of walking in a place that is commonly misrepresented as the "armpit of America" and typically deemed unwalkable. New Jersey is actually a very underrated state. It might be the densest state population-wise, but it's called the Garden State for a reason. Oh yeah, I'd never been to Philadelphia and just really wanted to visit.

How did the walk go? Quite often trips or excursions can be a fair bit different to how you first imagine them… how did the reality of the walk differ from how you thought it was going to be?

I was presented with a new challenge every day. Don't get me wrong, the walk turned out better than I could have ever imagined, but you can never anticipate everything in advance. This was the first time I'd ever walked with a 25 pound bag on my back, let alone the first time I'd walked 9 days in a row. Originally I set out to average 17.75 miles per day, but thanks to my own curiosity, ended up waking 20 miles a day on average. I mapped the entire route a month or two before leaving, but would always deviate from the path in favor of exploring some neighborhood, road, or park that looked appealing. The first day alone ballooned into 27 miles because I got cocky and thought I didn't need to use my map while walking in Manhattan. I learned my lesson and kept my eyes on the map for the rest of the trip.

Another thing I didn't expect was the sensitivity one develops after walking 6-8 hours for days in a row. The smell of exhaust and gasoline becomes more potent. You realize how violently we've shaped the land to build huge highways and abysmal business parks. So much of our infrastructure is built in favor of the car, which makes being a pedestrian incredibly difficult at times. If the built environment didn't present a challenge, it was always the weather, the gnarly blisters on my feet, or my gear malfunctioning. I quickly learned to accept these challenges. It was just another component of the walk.

A lot of times people go for ‘a walk’, they’re seeking out beauty spots or nice scenery—maybe in nature reserves or the countryside, but your walk was cutting through some fairly overlooked places… industrial estates and small towns. Do people miss out by not seeing the whole picture of somewhere? Is just driving through these places to get to the destination sort of cheating?

I wouldn't consider driving to be cheating – it's just another way we alienate ourselves from the world around us. When we drive, we experience the world at a speed that makes it nearly impossible to pay attention to the fine details. Our relationship to place is abstracted, especially thanks to the rise of GPS. We no longer have to have a physical relationship to these towns. We don't even have to remember how to get to them. Driving around in a car reduces these places to nothing more than a label on a map or a convenient place to stop for gas.

It's important to have relationships with the places surrounding you. The walk has given me an intimate experience with the space between New York City and Philadelphia. I know what it looks like, I know how it feels to be there. I can tell you where residents stop hanging New York Yankees flags in favor of Philadelphia Phillies flags. If I'm watching the Soprano's and Tony references Metuchen, NJ then I know exactly what he's talking about. I think to understand a place, such as New York City, it's just as important to understand the places around it. There are generations of people who once called the Big Apple home, but decided to plant their roots in Jersey for one reason or another.

I suppose you could have read about some of these places on Wikipedia, but being there is a completely different thing. Is experiencing stuff first hand important?

It's very important if you actually want to understand a place. It's too easy to create our own narratives without ever visiting a place. I still tried to do my share of research before heading out. I have friends from North Jersey or the Philadelphia Metro and tried to take their opinions with a grain of salt. I spent some time reading about certain towns along the way on Wikipedia or scanned Reddit to get a vibe. I even previewed chunks of the walk on Google Street View to mentally prepare and know if it was actually safe to walk near some of these roads. I could have spent months preparing, but it never would actually replace walking in these small towns and cities. It's so much different when you're on the ground.

I suppose the main reason we’re talking is that you make a magazine based around the idea of walking. How long have you been making Pedestrian? What started it off?

I released the first issue of Pedestrian back in March of 2018. I was living in Ridgewood, Queens at the time and made friends with a guy named Curtis Merkel (I actually met him while out on a walk). He ran a moving business for a few decades and retired. At 84 years old he opened up a tiny little bookshop to keep himself busy. I'd visit him every weekend to check out his books and eventually we'd just get to talking. He'd lived in Ridgewood his entire life and loved to talk about the neighborhood's history. Moving to NYC also introduced me to a thriving community of zine makers. I wanted to share these conversations I'd had with Curtis in print form, so I decided to start a magazine. I invited a few friends to contribute and the rest was history.

Since then, the identity of Pedestrian has become quite fluid. While it started as a magazine, I would now describe Pedestrian as my own practice. It's a platform that allows me to collaborate with others, produce magazines, write newsletters, go on these long multi-day walks, and produce t-shirts. I have found this configuration gives me the most creative freedom.

A lot of your magazine is about meeting people and striking up conversations. Is this a lost art these days?

I don't know if it's a lost art per se, but there's less incentive to reach out and talk with strangers these days. Thanks to the rise of social media it's just getting easier and easier to stay within our own "bubbles." Starting Pedestrian, in a way, was an excuse for me to speak with those I typically wouldn't reach. It's amazing how having a publication kind of takes the fear out of speaking with strangers. You can do anything when you have intention.

Although walking is something most people do, is it overlooked as an activity? It seems it’s mostly seen as an inconvenience, rather than a hobby in itself.

It depends where you live. In New York City, for example, walking is a part of the culture. The city is built in such a way that makes walking a viable means of transportation. And if you can't walk to your destination, you're likely walking to a subway or a bus. Where I'm from in Iowa, walking is very inconvenient. Everything is spaced out, which makes walking anywhere very difficult. It’s not that people don’t want to walk, it’s just the way we’ve built certain communities has made it very hard to enjoy. It makes people think walking is very inconvenient.

I’m here in Iowa until August and it’s been interesting to walk a place that is so reliant on cars. The other day I did a 13.5 walk around the city. There’s nothing here stopping you from walking (unless the heat gets you. Technically we’re in the middle of a drought. It’s been incredibly hot as of late), and there’s plenty of sidewalk. I think it’s mostly just a mindset people have to develop. It doesn’t matter how many miles you walk, it’s just about getting out there. Your mental health will thank you and you might even learn something new about your surroundings along the way.

Walking is maybe the antithesis to the internet, but Pedestrian also has a decent presence on the World Wide Web, and you regularly send newsletters and... er... partake in the digital world. How do you balance the real world with the matrix?

It’s a relationship I’m constantly reevaluating. I’m not a master of balancing the two yet, but I’m slowly building habits that will protect my time. I often daydream of abandoning social media altogether and picking up a flip phone. I obviously haven’t done that yet, so in the meantime, I’m investing a lot of time in my newsletter. Sending out a newsletter is a much more thoughtful, intimate, and slow experience...kind of like the way I approach my walks out in the world. I understand that the web is a tool and I’m not sure the Philly walk would have gotten the same amount of attention had I not had an Instagram account. It’s cliche, but everything in moderation, right? I try not to take it so seriously.

What next for Pedestrian?

The Philly walk was such a great success and I’d like to keep that momentum going. Later in September I have another big, big walk planned, but I have yet to announce the route. Look for an announcement sometime next month. This one will be a bit longer and involve 3 different cities. I can’t wait.

Once winter hits I’m going to buckle down and produce a proper book for the Philly walk that will include all my writing and photos I took along the journey. I’m already excited to share the finished product with the world. Stay tuned.

Final question, what are your walking shoes of choice? And what's your soundtrack? Are earphones advised for long walks, or do you prefer the ambient sounds of the streets?

I’m a big fan of Hoka Clifton’s. I wore them throughout the entire Philly walk and have two pairs in my closet. At this point, Hoka should probably pay me for how much business I send their way. I’m always recommending them.

I prefer not to wear headphones and just listen to the ambient sounds of the street. More often than not, I find wearing headphones to be a bit distracting and it takes me out of the present moment. Although, I’ll admit I have been trying to introduce music into my walking once again, but few tracks make the cut. Lately Andrew Wasylyk’s Last Sunbeams of Childhood has been on repeat. There’s something about that track...

Find out more about Pedestrian here. Pedestrian is available in the UK courtesy of Central Library.