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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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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.

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moonagedaydreamohyeah · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!! Welcome back! I saw you'retaking prompts, so I hope it's okay for me to send a lil one 🥺 I have this idea where Bucky has nightmares constantly, and they get so bad he can't wake up. So after a couple of weeks, he's barely holding on, Steve tries something though. And now wherever he has a nightmare, he grabs his hand, to soothe him while telling him various memories of them, their wedding, their childhood. It works, Bucky calms down eventually and then wakes up. Telling Steve his dream shifted at a certain point and stopped being scary. I had this idea but I truly cannot write at all, if you choose to do it (it's totally fine if you don't though) I know you'll do a great job! Tysm

Hii Nonnie! Thank you soo so much for your prompt, I’m sorry it took so long! Here it is though, it turned out pretty long but I hope you like it!!🙏🌼💗

Trigger warnings for some angst and trauma related stuff and a close-to panic attack - I promise it gets fluffy before long☺️

_____________________________________________

The first thing Steve registered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings was the darkness of their room, suggesting that it was nowhere close to being morning yet.

He slowly blinked his eyes open and as he reached his hand out he came in contact with heated and sweat-clammy skin at the same time as he heard the tell-tale whimpering sounds from beside him, which instantly alerted to the cause of him having woken up in the first place.

As he sat up and turned the lamp at his bedside on, Steve looked at the distressed face of his boyfriend, at the way that his hands are opening and closing around the sheet in tight fists as if battling through a pain that was only a memory, but probably felt just as fresh and real as the approaching dawn.

Running a hand tiredly over his face, Steve suspected the bone deep exhaustion which is the product of almost two weeks of sleepless nights, for the fact that he didn’t realise what was happening the moment he stirred into wakefulness.

Steve took a deep breath in a lost effort to gather himself for what appeared to be another sleepless night with Bucky reliving the worst moments of his life while Steve sat helplessly beside him, unable to wake him up from the horror he was reliving and bring him back to reality.

When this specific brand of night terrors had first started, Steve had gone through any and all means that he and Bucky could come up with to wake him up, finding that not one of them was enough to tear Bucky from the deep sleep he was caught up in and the painful memories that came with it.

It wasn’t like nightmares were any kind of new experience for either of them, which of course couldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. They had both experienced stuff that would bring anyone nightmares, and Bucky’s mind especially only had to dig through what seemed like a bottomless pile of more than 70 years incomparable trauma and replay it, whenever it wanted to procure night terrors of the kind that would have most people opt for never sleeping again, if it meant they didn’t have to relive it - which is what Bucky would have preferred too, if it wasn’t for his therapist having put him on a strict sleeping schedule and medication to ensure that he would actually sleep within those set times, in a sympathetic voice ensuring him that the only road to recovery was through.

Usually the other would be there to wake up whomever of them were unlucky enough to run into a nightmare bad enough to wake the other up, and they would be able to hold each other until they could talk it out and eventually go back to sleep, until they were ready to go back to sleep.

They even had a ritual set up for the really bad ones. They would put on a pot of coffee and have a cup each, indulging in plenty of cream and sugar and drink them while watching an episode or two of Steven Universe on the TV.

As none of that was something they’d gotten to enjoy before waking up in the 21’st century, due to rationing and what not, that usually brought them had suffered right back to reality, reminding them that they had both escaped the pain of the past, and were now back together in the somewhat peaceful life they had managed to create for themselves in this new time and place.

But since these particular nightmares had started, none of that had been of use anymore. No matter what Steve tried, Bucky simply wouldn’t wake up and all Steve could do was sit helplessly by his side while the whimpers and cries for help rose in volume,

That didn’t stop Steve from trying though. Reaching out to try and shake Bucky out of it, Steve tried to keep the desperation out of his voice as he spoke.

“Bucky, baby, come on wake up. You’re dreaming sweetheart, you aren’t there anymore, you’re right here with me, all you gotta do is wake up.”

As he’d come to expect though, it was no use. If anything, the nightmare only seemed to be intensifying, if the full body shiver and increasingly loud whimpers of pain was anything to go by. Steve could feel his voice wavering as he shook him a little harder while he tried to speak over the devastating sounds coming from his love.

“Bucky, please. C’mon, baby, wake up. Sweetheart.”

It was when Bucky, still not showing any signs of waking up, let out a loud, high pitched cry of ‘please, no, no more, no more please, it hurts!’ that Steve suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. His breath hitched as the sob he’d been trying to hold back suddenly tore from his throat and without thinking, he was throwing the covers off and leaping out of their shared bed and into the living room where he braced himself on the back of the couch and took in gasping breaths as he tried to control the sobs that kept coming.

As his breathing only picked up the pace, Steve felt himself steer into what would no doubt become a full blown panic attack if he didn’t get a hold of himself. He slid down to sit the floor and placed his between his knees while back and forth to eight in his in a last ditch effort to slow his breathing; ‘breathe in for eight, and then out for eight’ he recited in his head.

Finally feeling his breathing start to even out, he remembered something that Mary-Ann, Bucky’s therapist, had stressed in one of their shared sessions;

‘You can’t cure another person’s pain or trauma, and the minute you catch yourself trying or beating yourself up over not being successful in doing so, you’re only making the situation worse by creating more pain for yourself along side with the pain your loved one is already in. Working through this stuff is only something you can do for yourself. The best you can do is be by their side to support them through it and try to diminish the strain of negative thoughts and other practical stuff that takes energy away from the effort that it takes to get better.’

Bucky and Steve both had trauma to work through, and figuring out to best help each other without putting too much strain on themselves and taking on the other’s struggles as well, had been a difficult balance to achieve when they had first been brought back to each other. But through therapy and conversations they had managed to get into a pretty good rhythm when it came to balancing their relationship and everyday life which all the baggage they each brought into it, by being there for each other in the best way possible.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t still hard sometimes, and these nightmares had taken a serious toll on both of them, so it wasn’t any wonder that Steve was at his limit. Had it only taken out on the nights, that would have been a different thing. But Bucky had been restless and tired in the day too, often staring off into the distance seemingly caught up in his own head. Steve, having been kept up by Bucky’s nightmares, had slowly felt the weight of Bucky’s struggles and the overall gloomy mood in their shared home, become to much to bear with his sparring energy resources.

Reminding himself once again of Mary-Ann’s words, Steve tried to shake off the feeling of inadequacy as he slowly got up from the floor. ‘The only way to get past this is through,’ he thought decisively, ‘and we will get through it.’

Even though Steve suddenly couldn’t bear to not be by Bucky’s side for one more moment, he opted to take a quick detour into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, before he braces himself and returned to the bedroom.

By now whatever Bucky was reliving had sent him into a state of thrashing around on the sheets, throwing the covers halfway off to reveal his sweat soaked shirt, accompanied the sound of pleading, painful sounding whimpers that bordered on sobs.

Sitting himself back on the bed, Steve used one hand to grab a firm hold of Bucky’s that was now clutching the sheet hard enough that it was a wonder he hadn’t torn a hole in it yet, and started rubbing soothing circles over the back while he smoothed Bucky’s hair away from his sweaty face. Steve took a deep breath to collect himself before he started talking in a soothing voice.

“It’s okay, Buck, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere sweetheart” He didn’t know if he was still talking to Bucky or mostly trying to convince himself, when he continued, “I can’t take the pain away, but I can at least be here by your side through it, huh? Just like your Mary-Ann told us: that’s all I can do, and I’ll do it sweetheart, I’ll stay right here. I’m sorry I had to leave for a little while, but I promise I’m here now, okay? Just like you were always right there for me.”

Thinking back to the first of those awful winters when Steve had been so sick that not one doctor dared reassure his ma that he would be sure to pull through, Steve continued in that same, low voice, mostly just thinking out loud by now. He almost didn’t notice that Bucky’s whimpers had toned down a little bit and the thrashing was starting to calm down again into those god awful full body shivers.

“I guess I know how you felt now, going though those winters back then, huh? Oh god, how awful that must have been for you, baby, I get that now, don’t I? Sitting there, unable to do a damn thing but always reassuring me that I would get through even when everyone else doubted it. You always stayed, and I swear baby, that must’ve been what got me through at least the half of it.” Steve had to breath in deep again to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Remember that first winter? We can’t have been that old, maybe nine or ten I think..” Steve mused, caught up in the memories. “Yeah, that must’ve been it. I remember ‘cause we had been playing all day out in the rain and we didn’t even notice how cold it was. Your ma gave us such an earful when we came home, soaked through and teeth chattering. I remember her going at us while we stood in the bathroom, naked as the day we were born and shivering, while she got the bath ready. She had that voice on, the one she used when we’d been exceptionally stupid”, Steve scoffed quietly. “‘You boys, I swear,’ she would always say, ‘it’s barely forty degrees outside and you run around in the rain like that; you’ll get sick, that’s for sure. You boys don’t think we have better things to spent all our hot water on?’ and I remember her voice soften when she told us, ‘you gotta take better care of yourselves, especially you Steve, with how skinny you are.’ I think she was probably more worried than mad though. God, I miss your ma sometimes. She was such a wonderful woman. Always had a thing or two to say about the shenanigans we got up to, but you could always tell she wasn’t really all that mad. She was right too, of course. I spent the entire winter in bed, doing my best to cough up half a lung while you sat by my side with that determined look on your face, like you were prepared to fight off death himself if he ever even thought of bothering to show up.”

By now Bucky was visibly calming down, the only signs of distress being the furrow of his brow and the occasional clenching and unclenching of the fist that Steve wasn’t holding onto, so Steve kept talking in the hope that that was what was finally doing the trick.

“And you never let me go out after that, without being practically bunched up in a hundred layers, even if it meant you had to freeze your balls off.” Steve chuckled to himself, suddenly recalling a very fond memory. “Oh, and then when it finally got hot outside again and we were out playing - we were with that girl, what was her name again..” Steve thought back, trying to remember. “- Laurel? Loraine? You know, the one with the pretty curls you were always pulling at when her family sat in front of us in church and no one was looking. Anyway, you found that penny on the ground and decided you were gonna buy us ice cream cones, but of course one penny turned out to only be enough for one. And I remember the look on her face when you said I should have it, god, she was so disappointed. But I had lost weight from being sick all winter and I was even skinnier than usual, and you were all like ‘look at him, he needs fattening up, it’s only fair, here you go Stevie, you have it’ and you wouldn’t hear any complaints about it.”

Steve was brought back from his reminiscing by Bucky rolling over onto his back and letting out a small sigh, any signs of the nightmare having disappeared from his features. Steve was flooded with relief as he smiled down at him and continued softly. “It was all there, right in front of my face, even back then, wasn’t it? I can’t believe I spent all those years being jealous of all the ladies who were always keen on dancing with you when we went out. You only ever had eyes for me, huh?”

Steve startled at the sound of Bucky’s sleep rough mumble. “‘Course, you punk”

Squeezing his hand, Steve checked to make sure he had heard right. “Bucky? Hey, you awake honey?”

Bucky squeezed back, letting out a grumbled “Mmh.. wha’s going on, why’re you up?” but he seemed to quickly rise from his sleepy state at Steve’s choked “oh thank god”

“Hey, Steve what’s wrong, huh? Look at me, what happened? You have a nightmare or somethin’”? Bucky asked, wiping away a single tear of pure relief that had apparently escaped and was trailing down Steve’s left cheek. His look of worry turned into one of realisation though, when it dawned on him. “Oh shit, it was me having a nightmare again huh? It happened again, didn’t it? Aww I’m sorry Stevie.”

“No no, please don’t apologise,” Steve hurried to reassure him. “It’s not your fault Buck. I’m just so relieved you’re back with me. It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you in that much pain and not being able to do a thing about it,” Steve sniffled.

“Yeah, I know Stevie, I know.” Bucky expression briefly shifted to one of confusion. “How’d you wake me up? I thought we’d practically tried everything by now.”

“I didn’t, at first,” Steve said, “I just starting talking to you and then when it seemed to calm you down a bit I kinda just kept going with like, talking about memories that came up, you know from back when we were kids.”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky furrowed his brows in thought. “I don’t really remember what the nightmare was about, only that it was awful and then the dream sort of.. shifted. Something about my ma giving us an earful and then something about ice cream cones and brown curls?” Bucky’s face shifted, as if he’d remembered something funny. “God, you remember that time I found that penny? And that girl, Loraine I think, she got so mad when I bought you ice cream instead of her,” Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s the story I was telling,” Steve smiled. “To be fair, that was kind of dick move, Barnes. Ain’t no way to treat a lady.”

“Hey! You were so skinny! You clearly needed it more than her!” Bucky defended himself. “And by the way, it wasn’t exactly her I was trying to impress.” Bucky said, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve snorted. “Yeah, alright, you’re a real charmer.”

“Don’t you know it,” Bucky said. Smiling more softly, he leaned in so his forehead was resting against Steve’s. “I’m really sorry for waking you up honey. It sucks that you have to be here through all that Stevie, I know it ain’t easy on you.”

“Nah,” Steve answered. “I’m right where I want to be. Till the end of the line and all that, remember? Not planning to go anywhere”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed softly, and then in an almost whisper, sounding suddenly vulnerable, “I love you so much, Stevie.”

Sensing that Bucky was finally feeling some of the raw emotion that was left over from the nightmare he’d just endured, now that he knew that Steve was okay, Steve lifted up to plant a lingering kiss on his forehead. Rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Bucky’s back, he noted that his t-shirt was still soaked from sweat. “Me too, Buck. Me too. Hey, why don’t I go make a pot of coffee and turn the TV on and you come join me once you’ve cleaned up a little?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, burying himself a bit closer into Steve’s embrace before pulling away and offering a grateful smile. “That sounds good.”

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jinkicake · 4 years ago

Text

You Call Him Daddy?!

You accidentally call them daddy in front of the team.

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Anon, this might be a tad bit ooc in some parts.... Sometimes I picture the different ways these characters act when they aren’t seen and I like to write it like that LOL You know experiment and shit,,, Also I feel like I’m the only bitch who likes Nohebi HAHAH

SMUT // NSFW

WC- 2,213

~~~

Akaashi Keiji

First let me say, wow Akaashi is so pretty and done.

I feel like if you accidentally call him daddy in front of the team it’ll be such a big mess

All the third years, except Bokuto, are going to be silent, while their captain is like ‘yo toss for me’ like the whole ‘daddy’ thing would go over Bokuto’s head. Sweet Bokuto does not kink shame, okay. The managers would be squealing and gasping in shock, sending you suggestive looks before dragging you off somewhere to beg for details HAHAH

“Keiji! I’m so happy to see you!” You exclaim softly before wrapping your arms around him, you’re at the representative playoffs and you finally get to see your boyfriend once again after the few weeks of separation

Despite living relatively close to one another, you and Akaashi were both very busy preparing for these games. While he was practicing with his own team, you were managing for yours (which always proved to be a challenge, even now)

“Oh, how is your girlfriend doing by the way?” Kuroo sneers behind you and you glance to see your own captain squaring up with the pesky cat

“Ah, excuse me Keiji,” You pout and apologize, Akaashi gently smiles and kisses the pout off your lips before unwrapping his arms to let you go control your petty team

“Daishou!” You scold and wrap your hand around said boy’s bicep, pulling him behind you to get in front of Kuroo, you give the Nekoma captain a fake smile before turning around to face your friend “I’m trying to see my boyfriend and I can’t do that if you keep starting shit!” You whisper-yell and Daishou rolls his eyes

“I didn’t start anything-“ He lies and you narrow your eyes up at him

“Daishou stay away from them and they’ll stay away from you, okay? Save your energy for the court.” You pat his chest and gently let go of the grip you have on him,

You’re about halfway back to Akaashi before you hear the damn snake speak up again

“I broke up with her!” Your eye twitches because you know damn well Yamaka broke up with him, you send Akaashi another sympathetic smile before walking back to your teammate

The grip you have on Daishou’s collar makes him choke and you practically toss him into the wall and get in-between him and Kuroo once more, glaring at anyone who looks at you

“I am trying to talk to my boyfriend who I have not seen in a few weeks so if you both could kindly stay away from each other I would appreciate it,” You smile sweetly and Daishou scrunches his nose before opening his mouth once more

“See you in the finals” He sneers and you quite literally pick him up by his hair

“Daishou if you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re not going to see the finals. All I want is to have a peaceful day and then go home and give my boyfriend that gawk gawk 3000 and call him daddy so if you could please help me just this once and be quiet.” You growl and drag him away from Nekoma, smiling softly at Akaashi when you pass him, you bring your captain all the way to where your team is in the bleachers and sit him down on the bench “okay, now then-“

“You call him daddy?” Daishou snickers and you narrow your eyes at him

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask and Daishou laughs so loudly it sounds like a cackle

“You said, and I quote,” Daishou clears his throat before speaking again, purposely altering the pitch of his tone to reference yours “give my boyfriend that gawk gawk 3000 and call him daddy so if you could please-“

Daishou shuts up when you sit down next to him dejectedly

“I said that in front of you and the entire Nekoma team and Fukuroudani?” You whisper and the captain throws his arm around your shoulder

“Don’t worry (Y/N)! At least you didn’t say it in front of our team…. Oh wait,” He snickers and you awkwardly face the rest of your players and coach

“Ah, Daishou, I’m going to quit” You cry and he immediately tries to calm you down

“Wait, (Y/N), no you can’t!”

“So, you like being called daddy?” Kuroo asks after he bumps into Akaashi. Your boyfriend can only sigh in shame and shake his head, “I-is that a yes or a no?”

“That’s a shut the fuck up Kuroo” Kenma bites and defends his other friend, trying to drag the middle blocker away from the setter

Konohana, Komi, and Sarukui simply blink before walking away, dragging Bokuto along with them so their setter can face the shame in peace

“Oh, Keiji!” You squeak and tightly grip the bed sheets on either side of you, you want to so badly grip his silky hair but, Akaashi has rules. The dark-haired boy flicks your thigh as a warning and you can’t help the pout that appears on your face. Akaashi not allowing you to touch him is a big punishment and, needless to say, you aren’t happy about it. Akaashi continues to stare up at you from in-between your thighs, his lips have captured your clit as he sucks dutifully on the swollen bud.

“Daddy,” The pitiful whimper slips past your lips and Akaashi smirks against your soaking cunt, his tongue flicks your clit. His warm mouth is welcoming as he continues the harassment on the delicate pearl. “I-I love you.” The endearing phrase flies past your lips and Akaashi feels his resolve soften, he can never stay harsh with you for long.

Though, he will try.

Akaashi removes his mouth and slaps your clit with four fingers, watching as you squirm and cry at the impact. He can tell how badly you want to grip his hair and he mentally reminds himself to reward you for staying so still, well as still as you can be. He continues to tap the sensitive bundle of nerves, ranging from light taps to slaps that sound throughout the room.

“Daddy, please,” You cry and Akaashi takes pity on you, he leans forward and licks soothing strips up against your clit. He wants to kiss the sting away because he truly cares too much about his baby and wants you to feel nothing but pleasure.

“Daddy loves you too sweet girl, I love you so much.” Akaashi coos as he kisses along your thigh, he glances up and sees you staring at him with a deep pout on your face. He just wants to kiss it off. “Don’t look at me like that.” He tries to scold but his words come out weak, your pitiful eyes play numbers on him that he will never understand. “Patience, you’ll get what you want, hold out for Daddy."

Kozume Kenma

I 99.9% believe that Kenma getting called daddy in front of the team is Kuroo’s fault ,,, LOL

Like Kuroo knows shit and it accidentally slips and everyone is like … ‘kuroo wtf’ because nobody believes him much to Kenma’s relief HAHAH

It isn’t often that you can convince Kenma to stay after at a joint practice but when you do, you nearly regret it every time

“And then she wanted to call me daddy,” Kuroo gasps loudly like the gossiper he is and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes at the way Bokuto is hanging onto his every word “shit honestly though, it was pretty hot”

The one time…. One time you convince Kenma to stay after practice to spend time with his friends and these are the conversations you get

“Oh, I totally believe you Kuroo” You click your tongue mockingly and the tall captain gently pushes the side of your head

“It’s true, don’t be jealous you weren’t her (Y/N)” Kuroo throws back and you flick him off, internally smiling at the way Kenma pulls you closer to his chest and tightens his arms around your shoulders

“Kuroo you’re literally the biggest nerd on the planet, you really expect me to believe you get pussy, much less get someone to call you daddy?” At your words Bokuto gasps and Akaashi covers the ace’s gaping mouth with his own hand

“Ask Kenma he was there!” Kuroo flicks your forehead and you turn around to your boyfriend with your hand already bunched up in his dyed hair

“I was not there,” Kenma confirms and had it not been for his arms wrapped around your waist, you would have lunged at Kuroo

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to believe, it’s not like you don’t call Kenma ‘daddy’” Kuroo spills, stating it so simply like he’s talking about the weather. You start to mentally plan his death as Akaashi shakes his head and Bokuto begins laughs loudly

You know Kenma hates being put in the spotlight but you simply could not help yourself

“You’re telling me if you had this mf fucking you every night, you wouldn’t call him daddy?” You snap at Kuroo and Kenma tenses behind you before squeezing your hips so hard you nearly yelp, Kuroo leans back on his forearms and looks around proudly like what did I say?

“Yeah, okay,” Bokuto wheezes and falls back on the gym floor

“What?” You and Kuroo both snap and Bokuto laughs even harder, clutching his sides and trying to cover his loud voice with Akaashi’s jacket

“Those two virgins? Yeah right-AH” Bokuto points at you and Kenma before Akaashi shuts him up by covering his mouth once again

“How would you even know that Kuroo?” Akaashi asks while placing his other hand on Boktuo’s shoulder to keep him pinned to the floor

“Best friends don’t overshare their sex lives?” Kuroo asks and Akaashi shakes his head quietly, Kuroo does not miss a beat with his follow-up response “Oh, I forgot you two do each other so there isn’t much to share”

Now it’s your turn to gasp and Kenma tries to hide the audible hitch in your breath with his hand. The gym is now silent and you eagerly glance between Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto while waiting for someone to confirm or deny the statement

“Come on Kuroo it was one time!” Bokuto finally gets out of Akaashi’s grasp and Kuroo gives him a pointed look, “Fine. Five times” Another moment of silence passes before “Okay, it has become a regularly occurring thing”

“Wow,” You simply nod in amazement before sending Akaashi a proud thumbs-up, one that Kenma swats down quickly

“So we all probably have daddy kinks…” You trail off and look around the gym suspiciously, taking in the small noticeable nods you receive while trying to subtly hide the shocked look on your face

“Well, wasn't this fun, we all learned something new about each other!” Kuroo claps amusedly and Kenma buries his head into your shoulder

“Yeah, too much,” He mutters before nudging your nose with his ear “can we leave now?”

Of course, Kuroo happened to overhear that

“KENMA I HEARD THAT!”

Kenma kneels behind you and he oozes disinterest as his eyes run all over your bent figure. The way he has you tied up has your face shoved into the mattress while your ass is high in the air. Kenma leans forward, hovering over you as he playfully snaps your blindfold between his fingers.

“You’re so irritating,” He sighs and tugs on your hair roughly, forcing you to arch your back even more. It doesn’t matter how much shit he talks because you can still feel the hard heat digging into the back of your thighs. “you really wanted everyone to know your little secret.”

Kenma trails one of his hands between your thighs, running his fingers along your slit and the gag in your mouth muffles your moans.

“Kuroo acts like he knows everything we do behind closed doors but truthfully, he doesn’t even know the half of it.” Kenma softly rubs his palm against your ass, smoothing it over to the bottom of your spine. “Isn’t that right?” He asks and you can’t help the way you push your ass harder up against him.

A harsh slap resonates around the room, the entire impact of it all makes your body lunge forward. Had it not been for the restraints, you would have bucked your head into the wooden headboard. Kenma quietly laughs before doing it again, letting his slim hand smack your ass once more. He watches with an amused expression at how your thighs have slightly spread for him so that he can see your drenched cunt perfectly.

“You’re enjoying this,” Kenma voices his thoughts and you nod your head, Kenma has to hold back from rolling his eyes and he leans over to release the gag from your mouth.

“Yes Daddy, I want more. Please,” You softly moan, your voice coming out hoarse due to the strain in your jaw and the dryness of your throat. Your boyfriend almost regrets taking the gag off your loudmouth. Regardless, he finds himself playing right into your game and the tightness in his pants increases tenfold. He does this all for you, Kenma lies to himself. It isn’t all entirely just for you.

“How many more do you want? How many more can you take from me?”

~ Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @lovellucy @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder

#akaashi keiji x reader #kozume kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi smut #kenma smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

love persevering m.list

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

Shit, Nanami thinks as he tries to hide the evidence of his… offense. Can he cover it up with something? Maybe if he held his briefcase in front of it… No, that’s so obvious. It’s so… red. And big. There’s no way it’d stay concealed.

It’s not that Nanami is in any way dumb or easily frazzled. No, he’s quite intelligent and levelheaded and the fact that he works as an Associate at Goldman Sachs should be proof enough. It’s just that he strongly dislikes the thought of lying to you. Technically, he doesn’t even have to make up a story to explain his tardiness. You probably don’t really care that he’s – Nanami checks his watch while setting his briefcase down – an hour late home. But having a story would quell your suspicions about the true reason he’s late.

See, today his co-worker Archie was talking on and on about how he surprised his wife with a bouquet of fifty roses the other night and, well, Nanami felt inspired. He’s not typically one for large romantic gestures, so he thought that maybe he should step up his game and at least remind you of how much he loves you the one day he’s given a sign to.

“First, you gotta lower her expectations, y’know?” Archie says like he’s giving a pitch. “Make her think the conversation is gonna be far from romantic. Say something totally boring. ‘Hey, honey, I had a great day at work today.’ Somethin’ like that, y’know? Then you just whip it right out. Bam.”

Nanami looks at the pink peonies in his hand with a small smile. Happy marriage, the flower shop attendee had said. Hearing your footsteps leading out from the second-floor bedroom, he quickly places the red bouquet behind the living room sofa before rushing back to his original place by the door. At first sight of your figure descending the stairs, Nanami starts (perhaps too exaggeratedly) loosening his tie.

“Ken.”

Oh. Oh, this doesn’t sound too good. Pausing his movements, Nanami assesses the damage. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your head is slightly cocked to the side, and you’re shooting him an expectant look. To be frank, you look a little pissed. You’re not even smiling. This definitely isn’t too great.

“Honey,” he starts, flashing you a conciliatory smile.

“Did you know that we were supposed to leave for our reservation an hour ago?” you interrupt.

Reservation? It doesn’t ring a bell.

Oh, is that why… fuck.

Taking your husband’s silence as evidence that he’d forgotten, you let out a sigh and walk up to his frozen frame, stopping when you’re right under his nose. “Did you?”

Nanami looks up at the ceiling as he tries to recall anything about reservations, but his mind turns blank. Actually, he thinks as he furrows his brows, he can’t even remember what he did yesterday.

“No,” he admits truthfully, looking into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m really sorry but I don’t remember at all. Listen, I –”

And then, you laugh.

“I was just messin’ with you, babe.” Still giggling, you pull him in for a hug. “The reservation’s not today.”

Nanami blinks as his arms wrap around you. There’s no reservation. “You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles. “I genuinely thought that I’d done something wrong.”

“No, definitely not. You’re wonderful.” Lifting your heels off the floor, you capture Nanami’s lips in a short kiss. He eagerly responds, pulling you closer into his firm body. This is, without a doubt, Nanami’s favorite part about coming home. You. Always there, at the end of the day, with your sunny little grin and sweet, adoring eyes. A little piece of paradise.

“You are so much trouble,” he murmurs as you pull apart. You hum at that, unable to disagree.

“We do, however, have a reservation at eight tomorrow.”

He frowns. “I genuinely don’t remember making plans for that, darling, I’m sorry.” Nanami glances down at your face and notices your surprised expression.

“Me neither. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me something about that.”

Well, that’s odd. It’s not often that either of you forgets anything, let alone something as easily remembered as a dinner reservation. It’s utterly peculiar that you would both happen to forget about the same thing. Today’s turning out a lot stranger than he’d ever expected. “How’d you find out?”

You pull your phone out of your back pocket and show him the email confirmation.

Dear Mr and Mrs. Nanami,

Thank you for making a reservation with us at Gary Danko. As a reminder, your reservation is for two people at 8:00 PM this Friday.

If you have any questions concerning your reservation, please feel free to contact us. We look forward to serving you!

Thank you,

The Gary Danko Team

“This is… strange,” Nanami notes, studying the little screen.

“Very,” you agree.

“Should we cancel?”

“Should we?”

“I –” Nanami’s stomach grumbles, putting a pause on your conversation.

With a chuckle, you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Never mind. We can talk about it during dinner,” you say, helping your husband out of his suit jacket. As the blazer comes off, you affectionately rub a few circles on his back, feeling his posture relax under your touch. Honestly, he works too hard. You always tell him this but he really should take a few days off and drive down to the beach – maybe with you, if he’d like – and forget about the world for a while. God knows he could use the rest.

Nanami hums in approval. “You go on first.” He kisses your forehead before gesturing at the briefcase on the floor. “I should put this away.”

The moment you disappear into the dining room, Nanami moves his briefcase onto the coffee table and brings the bouquet of pink peonies out from their place behind the sofa, this time holding them behind his back. A reservation neither of us remembers, he suddenly thinks as he strolls quietly towards the dining room. Truly odd. Tucking the thought away in his mind (there’s always time to figure out mysteries like these), Nanami calls out, “Actually, honey, there’s a reason why I came home late today.”

“I was just about to ask. What was it?” You’re almost done setting the table when Nanami walks through the archway with a bouquet of flowers almost as broad as his shoulders.

“Holy shit.”

He laughs, filling the room with its bell-like sound. “For the lady.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walk over and take the bouquet from his arms, cradling it like a baby. Each petal is fresh and alive and so vibrantly pink. It’s obvious that a lot of care went into this bouquet, and it only touches you further that your husband went to such lengths to guarantee you’d only get the best flowers possible. “Thank you, darling. What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion,” Nanami says, shrugging. “Just that I love you. And I wanted to remind you that, even on days where nothing happens and it feels like we’re just going through the motions –” he takes your free hand and hunches over to kiss the ring on your fourth finger “– knowing I get to share every day with you gives me joy to look forward to.”

Happy marriage. It’s true and that’s all there is to say about it.

You’re unable to form words. Nanami Kento, the subtle, quiet lover, being loud with affection for once. An indescribable warmth spreads all throughout your body. “Ken…” Tears prick at your eyes as you set the bouquet down on the table and rush into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “I love you,” you murmur in his ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. Thank you.”

Nanami grins, cradling your face in his large palms. “I should do this more often,” he says, letting out a breathy chuckle when you nod instantly. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on – ” You cut him off with a slow but eager kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and tugging him closer to deepen it. If Nanami had been surprised by your interruption he doesn’t show it – his lips, soft and plump, move in complete synchronization with yours. He tastes like tea and honey and he smells like he always does, of wood and spice and the beach. It’s intoxicating and completely dangerous how irresistible he is and you can’t get enough of him.

The truth is, every real kiss with Nanami feels like the first. And you can never get enough. But you are running out of air, so you break the kiss first and rest your forehead against his, feeling his hot breath fan across your cheeks.

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, stroking his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “I wouldn’t want anyone else as my husband.”

Nanami quirks one corner of his mouth up and covers your hand with his, turning his head to kiss its palm. “If I had another life to live after this one, I’d marry you in that one, too.”

A prolonged growl from Nanami’s stomach interrupts your sweet moment.

“I think your stomach objects.”

“Maybe we should shove something down it, like dinner.”

Grinning, you slip out of your husband’s reach and beckon him to follow you into the kitchen.

“This salmon is delicious,” Nanami remarks, taking another bite off his fork.

“Thank you,” you beam. “I found a recipe while I was at work today and thought I’d try it out. Honey garlic salmon. My life is forever changed and so is yours, by extension. You’re welcome.”

Nanami chuckles, ready to respond with a dry comment about ‘having no choice,’ but then that odd email you’d shown him earlier resurfaces in his mind. “Speaking of changes. Should we cancel that Gary Danko reservation?”

You hum, thinking back to the letter as you chew. It seems like the most logical thing to do. After all, neither of you remembers making the reservation. The ambiguity surrounding its existence is unsettling enough to warrant cancellation, but something in you just wants to see what might happen. Swallowing your food, you say, “Don’t you think it’s strange that it has our names on it? I think we should consider going.”

“What if it’s a scam?”

“Then we go home, order Indian takeout, and watch a war documentary until we both fall asleep.”

Unconvinced, Nanami sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, the navy fabric of his button-up tightening around his muscles. “We should call them first, figure out if they know anything.”

“You’re right,” you say, and then you pause before adding, “And if they don’t?”

You’re done speaking but Nanami knows that sentence isn’t finished, and that the other unspoken half is: can we still go? The truth is – and he’s told you many times – that your unpredictability is the most predictable thing about you. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, eyes darting across your face as he contemplates his answer.

It’s not that Nanami is an overprotective husband or needlessly suspicious of every odd thing in life. It’s that he somehow cannot remember a single second of his life before today, the same day this email arrived. To be more accurate, he feels like he has those memories inside him. Somewhere, deep in his brain, he vaguely remembers what things like a “fifth birthday” or “first wedding anniversary” look like. They just feel out-of-reach. Regardless, he’s absolutely certain that things aren’t exactly right. But you look so excited and utterly unaware of his predicament, so it must be something only he’s experiencing and he doesn’t want to burden you with this problem.

“If you really want to go, then we’ll go,” Nanami concludes, taking a sip of his wine. “After all, the wife…”

“… is always right,” you finish for him. “Well, sometimes the husband is, too, but in this specific context, for unspecified reasons, the wife is most definitely correct.” The grin on your face almost puts his worries to rest.

(Almost.)

You call Gary Danko after dinner and they confirm your reservation.

“Sorry if this sounds, um, weird, but would you mind reminding me when we made this reservation?” you ask, walking in circles around the kitchen.

“Not at all!” Some typing noises travel through the receiver before the man you were talking to says, “Actually, you didn’t make the reservation.”

You make eye contact with Nanami who’s lightly rinsing the plates from dinner. “Pardon?”

“No, it was a Miss Amanda Priestly who called us and reserved the table for you two days ago on October 31st. Does that name sound familiar?”

Nanami raises his brows. That’s your boss.

“Um, yeah. I know her, thank you,” you say, frowning. What on earth is your boss doing reserving tables at Michelin-rated restaurants for you and your husband?

“She left a message, too, in case you were, quote, ‘confused,’ unquote. She says, ‘Mimsy, thank you for your help on the Modish Winter look book. Dinner is on me. Kisses, AP.’”

And suddenly, everything falls into place. All those late nights you spent analyzing old trends and predicting the next season’s rush into your memory. For a month, you pretty much lived in your office down the hall from your editor-in-chief. You barely even had time to sleep. It makes sense that Amanda would show her thanks for the effort you put into the project, but you hadn’t expected her to. After all, she’s Amanda Priestly. She still calls you Mimsy instead of your real name.

“Oh, of course!” you laugh, looking over at Nanami. He sends you a curious look before putting the rinsed plates into the dishwasher. “Thank you for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

The call ends and you tuck your phone in your pocket as you say, “Mystery solved.”

“Hmm,” Nanami says, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “The Modish Winter Look Book. For some reason, I don’t remember you working on that.” In fact, he doesn’t remember you working at a magazine company at all, although he can’t put his finger on what job he used to think you had. What is going on?

“Really?” you ask, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers together. “You don’t remember that time I ran into our office with four different tweed blazers and asked which one looked the most wintery?”

Nanami furrows his brows as a memory comes back to him. It was a sunny morning in early November when you ran into the home office with two blazers draped over each arm and forced him to rank them based on how well they exuded “winter energy.” Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing, just that the one with more blue seemed most appropriate for wintertime.

“I just remembered,” he says, a look of amused confusion coming over his features. Today has been so strange. “Did the blue blazer make it to the final look?”

“One moment,” you say, disappearing into the living room and returning with an advanced, rough copy of Modish’s Winter Fashion Edition. “It’s not out yet, but…” you trail off as you flip through the pages, pointing when you get to the one you were looking for “… here’s your contribution to the magazine.”

The blue blazer, in all its glory, smack dab in the middle of the section that says “TRENDS TO SAY GOODBYE TO.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, you predicted something,” you giggle, placing a hand on his chest. “Fashion might be your calling, Ken.”

He smiles wryly. “I’m hanging up.”

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #nanami x you

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

SIRIUS/REMUS PLAYING WITH PUPPIES WHILE ANSWERING FANS QUESTIONS

Please know that if we ever met in person, I would literally lift you off your feet and hug you for suggesting this. My afternoon was filled with adorable puppy videos because of this!

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I have them?” Remus asked softly, staring at the person behind the camera with big, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“Do the introduction and then we’ll set ‘em loose,” Marlene said.

“Fine. Hey, everyone, welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here today to play with puppies.”

“And answer questions.”

“And answer questions,” he added. “Maybe, like, one or two in between snuggles.”

“You’re going to answer all of them,” Marlene said more firmly.

He rolled his eyes and took the lid off the jar of paper slips. “Can I have the puppies now?”

A door clicked open behind the camera and Remus lit up as four puppies tumbled into frame, racing straight for him. “Hello, babies!” he laughed as a tiny golden retriever jumped on his chest. “Oh, I love you so much. Come here, come here, let me give you kisses.”

“Question number one?” Marlene prompted as he began playing with them and rolling their toys around.

Remus sighed and pulled a question out. “What would I be doing if I didn’t become a hockey player? Physical therapy for su—ope, okay, you can have that one.”

The Irish Setter puppy growled playfully as they played a short game of tug-of-war until the paper tore.

“Oh no, it broke!” Remus exclaimed, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears while it chewed on the leftover scraps. “Yes, that’s all yours now. Next one: what is the best part about playing professional hockey? I get to do interviews like this.” One of the puppies, a medium-sized black one, began chewing on one of the laces of his Converse. “Excuse me—excuse me, young man, that’s my shoelace. Are you chewing it because it’s rainbow? Is this homophobia?”

“Remus.”

“Sorry.” He lifted the puppy into his arms and kissed his head. “Okay, munchkin, what’s next? What’s next? You’re so fucking cute, I just wanna squish you. Um, what’s the most common thing fans say when they meet me?” He laughed and the puppy licked his cheek. “Usually they look at me and go, ‘god, you’re tall’, which surprises people because I’m always around these gigantic guys. Do these dogs have names?”

“If I tell you their names, you’re going to get attached.”

“We have crossed, salted, and burned that bridge, Marley.”

“The one you’re holding is Mercutio, the red one is Juliet, the retriever is Pip, and the fluffy one on your lap is Lucie, after Lucie Manette.”

Remus’ jaw went slack. “They’re named after book characters?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh, no.” He reached out and pulled Juliet and Pip into his arms for a moment. “Oh, no, you all have to come home with me now. The next question is…would I ever do drag? Probably not, but I looked hot as fuck in eyeliner, so do with that what you will.”

“Which video was that?”

“It was the fear pong one, which I played with my fiancé and my friends James and Lily!” His voice pitched up as he turned to talk to Mercutio. “I did, buddy! It was so fun! Yes, it was!”

“Remus. Questions.”

“Right. What’s one of my weirdest or funniest fan encounters? There was this one lady, she was like forty-something, and she came up to me while I was at the post office and asks ‘are you Remus Lupin?’ and I said, ‘yes, that’s me’ and she’s like ‘from the Gryffindor Lions?’ and I said yes again and then she went—” He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. “—‘I knew you were gay. Good for you, kiddo’ and then left. It was the weirdest fucking thing, especially considering I had played, like, one game with the team by that point.”

“Are you serious?” Marlene asked.

“Totally honest. I never saw her again, either.” Juliet put her paws on the front of his Lions hoodie and began licking the edge of his jaw. “Hey, sweet girl, thank you for the kisses. Can I grab another question? No? Okay, we can stay here.”

Pip began yipping and Mercutio wiggled out of Remus’ hold, launching himself at the other dog with a tiny growl.

“Mercutio, no!” Remus gasped, scooting Juliet aside so he could put the two puppies under his arms. His hands were big enough to almost cover their whole bellies. “We’re not here to start fights, you two. Apologize.” They turned their heads to lick his cheeks. “I didn’t mean apologize to me, but okay. You’re so soft and warm, what the hell?”

“Next question?”

“What’s the craziest rumor I’ve heard about myself? A solid group of people thought I asked to be on the team, which isn’t true. I didn’t even know people were considering it until James and Lily’s wedding. Coach wanted it to be a surprise while he cleared it with the organization.” Remus shook his head and slowly petted Lucie as she napped on his thigh. “Is there a celebrity I’ve met that left me starstruck? Ha! Yes. There was a fundraiser a few months ago and Sam Neill was there, which I didn’t know until I turned around and he was about two feet away.”

“What did you do?”

Remus laughed and turned faintly pink. “Um, I made a sort of squeaking noise and he kinda chuckled, which was mortifying in and of itself. He goes, ‘hi, I’m Sam’ and I nodded because duh, he’s Sam fucking Neill, and then I mumbled something about Jurassic Park and he smiled and said, ‘son, you’re blocking the water’ and I just about died on the spot.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Sirius was standing next to me the entire time and silently laughing his ass off. I saw them talking later, and when were about to drive home he hands me this napkin and it has Sam Neill’s autograph on it.”

“He didn’t,” Marlene gasped.

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“That’s the smoothest move I’ve ever heard of.”

“It was incredible.” Juliet waddled closer and nudged a red ball out from under Remus’ knee, which he picked up and tossed before taking out another question. “Do I appreciate when fans come up to me in public or is it annoying? Oh, it’s never annoying. It’s a little weird if I’m eating lunch somewhere or running errands and someone tries to sneak a picture, though. I love all the fans and it’s super fun talking to everyone, so please just come over and say hello instead of failing to be sneaky while I’ve got pizza grease on my face.”

“Even if you’re on a date?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, well, use some common sense. Pip—babycakes, stop trying to eat the questions. There we go.” He settled the puppy into his lap and rolled the ball for Juliet again. “In a movie about my life, who would I want to play me and Sirius?” He paused and looked at the camera. “I would want us to play ourselves, but only because neither of us can act and it would be so fucking funny to make the absolute worst movie.”

“Come on,” Marlene groaned.

“I’m being a hundred percent honest right now! I think it would be hilarious. We’d be terrible.” Juliet pawed at his arm insistently until he grabbed the ball, but she wouldn’t let it go and they ended up playing tug-of-war despite the fact that she had no traction on the floor and kept sliding around. “Aren’t you a feisty one, sweet girl! What is the most memorable moment of my life that I want to cherish forever? This. Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“I have two dogs on my lap, one under my arm, and the other slobbering all over my hand. This is the best possible place to be. Wait, hang on a second.” Remus carefully lifted Lucie up and laid down, settling her on his abdomen as the other three clambered over to flop on him. “Oh, yeah, this is the peak of my entire life.”

“You’re not going to say your engagement? Maybe the day you started playing for the Lions?”

“Nope. The engagement was incredible and one of my favorite memories for sure, but I was shaking in my skates.”

“Just read the next question.”

“Okay! What’s my go-to karaoke song?” He hummed for a moment, then laughed as Lucie scooted up to rest her head under his chin. “I think it’s probably ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ by Whitney Houston. Lily and I did a duet of that a year or so ago, and it rocked.”

Pip began gnawing on the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Pip,” Marlene scolded; her foot appeared in frame until Remus waved her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he can chew if he wants to. It’s an old sweater anyway, and it’s not even mine!” He scratched behind Pip’s ears. “No, it’s not, peach-a-keen! You can go nuts with that as long as you’re cozy. What is…my favorite behind-the-scenes Lions moment? Our groupchat, no contest.”

“Does it have the whole team?”

“Most of us, yeah. You have to earn your spot.” Remus looked over at the camera and Lucie put her head on his neck. “Looks like I’ve been banned from turning my head now, huh?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Marley, there are very few things that would make me happier than I am right now. I’m being slowly crushed by puppies and I get to cuddle them for free.” He reached blindly into the question jar. “This is a two-part question. Do I prefer big dogs or small dogs, and how is Hattie doing? I love all dogs, but I think I prefer big ones because they’re always so much fun, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to break them if I move wrong. Hattie’s doing well! She’s almost eighty pounds and she’s at home with Sirius right now, probably getting snuggled within an inch of her fuzzy little life.”

“That’s the dream right there.”

“Tell me about it. Alright, sorry ladies and gents, but I have to sit up to get to the questions.” All four puppies made noises of protest when he started sitting up and he sighed, eyebrows pitching upward. “I know, I know, it’s really hard. Here, how about we…” Remus carefully gathered them until he held all four against his chest; their tiny faces looked out over his forearms and he placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Much better.”

“Can you get to the jar?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to reach in. “Do you want to read it?” he asked Mercutio as the puppy tried to bite the slip. “No? Okay. What is my favorite thing about playing on the same team as my fiancé? That is an excellent question. My favorite thing is that we finally have the same schedule, so we can build in time to hang out more easily. It was hard to do that when we were doing different things.”

Pip yawned and the entire camera crew ‘awww’ed; Remus made a soft noise and nuzzled his floppy ear.

“I adore you,” he murmured. “I really do. Last question: What is my advice to those who want to follow their dreams? Oh, jeez.”

“You can take a minute to think.”

Remus crossed his legs and lifted his knees up so he could hug all the puppies at once while still looking at the camera. “The only reason I got big and strong is so that I can hold four puppies at once. Just thought people should know that. Uh, my advice to those who want to follow their dreams is to persevere. I never in a million years thought that I would get to play on a professional hockey team, but I worked really hard to overcome my injury and stay connected to the sport because I love it. If there’s something you love, don’t be afraid to hold on to it.”

“Wise words,” Marlene remarked. “Do you want to tell the fans where they can find the puppies?”

“At my house,” Remus joked. “But if that doesn’t work, they are up for adoption at Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, which is just south of downtown Gryffindor and has tons of adorable friends like these guys. Can I call Sirius real quick?”

“Sure,” Marlene laughed.

Remus gingerly lowered Lucie into his lap and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a quick number before putting it on speakerphone and setting it down to pick her up again. “Re?” Sirius sounded confused. “Aren’t you still with Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“…did something happen?”

“Nope, all good. Can we get another dog?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Marlene, what did you do?”

“It’s just an interview!” she called.

“What kind of interview?”

“Baby, they gave me puppies,” Remus said gleefully, burying his face in Lucie’s fluff for a moment. “Like, really good puppies.”

A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “How many are you holding?” Remus hesitated. “Sweetheart, how many dogs are currently in your arms?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit, Marlene! You gave him four dogs?!”

“They named them, too,” Remus added. “Pip, Juliet, Lucie Manette, and Mercutio. Baby, they named him Mercutio.”

“This was a recipe for disaster.” Despite his protests, Sirius sounded intrigued. “How old are they?”

Remus glanced up at Marlene. “They’re all six to eight months old,” she said.

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “So they’re babies.”

“They’re all up for adoption.”

“We have Hattie already.” Sirius was wavering. “But…she might possibly need a friend. Maybe.”

“You already love these dogs and you haven’t even seen them,” Remus said with a grin.

“The names are perfect! What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m going to sign the video off and then call you back, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t let go of the dogs until I get there, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Once the call ended, Remus faced the camera with a smile. Juliet and Pip had already fallen asleep. “Thanks for tuning in, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content. Endless thanks to Marlene McKinnon for allowing me to spend an hour holding tiny dogs. Have a great day!”

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lovehugsandcandy · 3 years ago

Text

just close enough (Logan x MC, RoD)

A/N: I am sorry, I have been very out of touch. I apologize for not responding to tags and chats. Things haven’t been great and I am surprised that I have anything for rodaw. Please keep tagging me on your stuff!

Pairing: Logan x MC, ROD

Length: ~1700 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (sorry, in rereading this, yeah, you probably shouldn’t read this at work)

Summary: Distance can be measured in miles and inches, and none of it is too far for Logan to travel.

He’s almost asleep, sliding into the hazy space between full alertness (how he spends every waking moment) and complete unconsciousness (where any dream he regretfully remembers is from a past best totally forgotten). The couch cushions are rough along his spine, spring digging into a shoulder blade, but he’s slept in worse places. He’s almost blessedly asleep, darkness warm and welcoming and-

“Logan?”

His eyes fly open and he jolts up, instantly awake. The room is in shadows, light of the moon filtering through the LA smog, bathing his surroundings in a sleepy glow. He turns his head; other than the call of his name, the loft is quiet, still. With a lifetime spent attuned for threats, he can sense that the calm in the air signals safety.

“Logan?” she slurs again, voice tinged with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He blinks, squinting over at the lump under his sheets. “What?”

“You’re too far away. Come here.”

God, he wants that, more than anything. In the daylight, when the corners of the shop gleam sharp and lethal, he knows it is too dangerous to get close. That distance is the one thing that will save her from mistakes he has spent a lifetime making and atoning for. But here, in the stillness of night, when the scratching fabric chafes his back and the siren in his bed calls, he feels his resolve weaken, scattering in shards to the floorboards to join the dust and grime underneath.

He pads over, the rhythm of his footsteps matching the soft sigh of her breath, and cautiously perches on the mattress, giving her a beat to reconsider before he swings his legs over and slides under the covers. She is soft and warm, coconut and sunshine next to his grease and oil, and she rolls over to edge soft on his side.

“Close enough?” he asks into the curls pillowing over his shoulder.

“Mmh… almost.”

He chuckles as he catalogues the space between them, an inch where her waist curves concave from his, a rumpled barrier of fabric where her feet are entangled. They could barely be closer, but somehow, he still agrees with Ellie.

The smile is still on his face as he drifts off into a contented sleep.

~~~~~

He’s not used to being in the passenger seat.

The view is different here, shifted, the rows of parked cars tilted and angled askew, but he sat relaxed, legs splayed and hair catching the wind the entire way. It’s a testament to her driving; she’s brilliant behind the wheel, beaming with every acceleration, leaning into every curve, and he can tell - she finds the call of the road freeing, just like he does. She’s come a long way from the shy bookworm whose path he stepped in front of. It’s barely been a few weeks, but it feels like forever.

He wishes it could go on forever.

He inhales harshly through his nose, recalling the day they met, the hushed conversations that preceded it. She deserves to know the truth and here, parked in this lot waiting on a disconcertingly mysterious job, seems like the perfect place to tell her.

But before he can find the words, she turns, fixing him with a devious smirk.

“Come here.” Her finger beckons and, just past it, a devious smirk glows in the multicolor shades alight from the dash.

“What do you…”

“Come here. You’re too far away.”

He leans forward, and the center console digs into his ribs. It doesn’t matter, not when she tugs on a strand of hair to pull him closer, so close he can map the lines of her smile with an intensity usually saved for fuel intake lines and racetracks. “Better?”

“Nope.”

He inches forward. “How about now?”

“Nope.” Her voice is teasing, soft, a whisper of air against his lips, the tingling of excitement before the fall.

He’s completely in her space, so close he can’t see beyond the dark of her eyes, the apples of her cheeks. There is no world beyond the girl in the driver’s seat. “Now?”

“... almost.” She breathes the response into his mouth as their lips finally meet; he realizes with a start that he will never be closer to anyone, here in this stadium parking lot, with his hands tangled in her hair and poisonous secrets in his heart.

Even when they are close as can be, he still feels the distance.

~~~~~

Logan’s just catching his breath, skating a shaking palm over her side. “Are you ready?” The words make him pause.

“No.” He blinks at her as she rests against the pillow in Vaughn’s spare bedroom, hair spilling down against the pillow; the strands curl around his finger as he absentmindedly runs his fingers in a tense pattern. He could never be ready for this, to see the one person he ever trusted, the one person he ever loved, race for their freedom on a pitch-black highway.

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“I know.”

“Logan, we need to do this.” She props herself up on her elbow, and his heart falls.

“I know. I just… I hate the thought of not being with you, not being able to protect you.”

She blinks down at him, and his fingers reach up to tangle in one graceful coil of hair strands soft on the pads on his fingers. “You know I can drive.”

“Of course, Troublemaker, I’ve seen you drive. I just… I don’t want you to be in danger. I hate that you’re going to be out there where I can’t help you.”

“I’ll be too far away?”

“Yeah.” For as close at they are now, where he can catalogue the distance between them (millimeters between his shoulder and hers, three inches between their lips, and no distance at all where his cock is just stirring, again, into the soft skin of her stomach), he knows that the waiting, the space on the highway --- it will wreck him.

She smiles, faintly, distantly, her eyes echoing his own pain. “I’m here right now.”

“You are.” He spins, hand on her hip pushing until he is over her, legs intertwined, fingertips around her waist, every inch of them aligned and in sync. “And I’m going to make the most of it.”

~~~~~

You’re too far away.

The words are high in the wind and he whips his head around frantically, as memories collide with the storm brewing outside. The first flake is a shock, pelting his forehead in an icy portent and, mere seconds later, the grey clouds above part in a mass of ice and slush.

It never snowed in LA.

Logan cranes his neck up to feel the full brunt of the storm hammer his face, each frosty blast a jolting reminder of how far he traveled from the last few months, the distance between him and his old stomping ground washed away as the frozen water melts over his face, droplets pouring down his brow and drenching his hair.

His face is frozen when he steps back into the shop, some run-down shithole he found in inner-city Detroit. Here, locals don’t ask questions, and there are no reminders of the mentor who was almost like a father and the girl who was almost like forever.

This time, they are miles and days and utter lives apart, and he worries that nothing on the earth will bring them together again.

~~~~~

The years flow like molasses. Fall edges into winter, which thaws into spring and heats into summer, and then it starts all over again, punishing, never ending.

The cities stack up almost as easily. After Detroit, it’s Miami, then Houston, a long stretch in Nashville before Milwaukee calls and then, finally, to the East Coast. He stops for a spell in DC, walking through shaded paths as the cherry blossoms sway above him. The pink defies imagination. He’s used to vehicle-grade candy paint, each car brighter and more audacious than the last, a parade of vibrant neons and sultry veneers that spin rainbows around tracks.

This pink is soft, petals even softer against his fingertips, and Logan feels an irrational stab of guilt for the calluses that dare grace the blossoms swaying in the wind. His dark past makes him unworthy to touch such beauty and, as he watches the petals flutter to the ground, he thinks of another beauty that slipped through his fingers.

He stays for a few months, enough to learn the grid of southeast DC and the bisecting avenues, but then spring tiptoes into summer. He’s used to the sun but the goddamn humidity makes his hair pouf into patterns he knows gentle fingers would soothe, so he heads north.

It’s a quick drive, the four lanes of 95 providing ample room to swerve and fly; he imagines another car with another driver speeding down these roads.

Finally, the wheels lead him to New York, where he trembles on a doorstep under flickering lights in this apartment building, fighting up five floors where every step made him want to vomit.

He breathes through his nose. He didn’t come all this way (trans versing the United States, multiple times, him and the Devore burning miles and gas but subsisting on memories and love) for nothing. His fingers shake and he rings the doorbell.

When it opens, she looks just as she does in his memory, eyes warm and bright, smile breaking out over the apples of her cheeks. His heart leaps.

“Logan?”

“Hi,” he breathes. He had been unsure of his reception but now, with her blinking up serenely at him, the years fade away and he’s brought back to the moment in front of her fathers house, watching the tears pool in her eyes and wishing futility on every star that life could be different.

They move at the same time; she jumps forward, and he pulls her in and their lips meet as if no time had passed, as if they had never been apart, as if distance were meaningless in the troublemaker's face who stole his heart.

“Close enough now?” He beams at her, smile so wide it hurts, cheeks pinching unfamiliarly, and he never wants to leave her side.

Her answering smile shines brighter than any shooting star he’s seen, and he knows he is right where he needs to be. “Finally.”

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@leelee10898, @client-327, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @choicesarehard, @burnsoslow, @zaffrenotes, @kat-tia801, @desiree-pow-35-1986, @ritachacha

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#logan x mc #rodaw #amy writes #playchoices fanfiction #rod choices #n*fw

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prose-for-hire · 3 years ago

Text

Shared Affection

Pairing: Willow x fem!reader; Xander x fem!reader [Bi reader !!]

Request: Hey! can you please write a Willow/Xander x fem reader story where they both have crushes on the reader and they're trying to figure out if she likes boys or girls only to find out shes bi?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I feel like I’m still a little rusty but I did like writing a little something for this request !! Hope it’s what you wanted and I’m sorry about the wait 💖

You were a new transfer to UC Sunnydale. You could sense that you were on a Hellmouth as soon as you set foot in this new place you would call home. You could sense things, energies and what some may call magic. It just hadn’t occurred to you that this was any different to how other people felt and experienced the world. This would all change, however, once you met who would be your new group of friends. They would show you new possibilities as well as showing you just how powerful you truly are.

You met Buffy in a class you had both taken and subsequently bonded over how much you regretted it. From that first day you both vowed to help each other get through the year. It was as if you just clicked, she was an instant best friend, you could feel it. She then introduced you to her other friends, Willow, Anya and Xander. The latter didn’t actually go to college but he would sneak onto the campus so often and he was good company so you were pleased at this. You got on with everyone so well, it was clear that they had become fond of you almost instantly. Some, more than others.

Over the next five months, Xander and Willow had found themselves adoring you. Neither realising that the other held feelings for you. Xander and you both loved films. You would watch them together all of the time and it became a weekly tradition. You would either go to his basement or he would spend time in your dorm. Sometimes you would forget that the film was on and laugh until you cried at the comments he would make. He was so funny and you couldn’t help but feel so comfortable in his presence.

Willow and you spent time together, she had shown you some small spells for you to practice and you described to her the energy you felt especially now you were in Sunnydale. You could spend hours through the night, just talking. Laughing and sharing your deepest thoughts. She was so sweet to you and you really valued all of the time she spent with you.

Both of them had made you feel so welcome and you enjoyed the attention you had been getting more and more of from them both. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t suspect that one or both of them may have feelings for you. Although, whenever you thought this you berated yourself for assuming more from their friendly natures.

You couldn’t help loving them, they were so kind and they both looked after you in their own ways. Willow and her magic, Xander and his courage. They were truly now extremely important people in your life. You were thinking of this as you saw Buffy saving your usual seat in your class.

She smile and got you up to speed on all of the latest news you might have missed since you saw her last night on patrol. She was now your closest friend and you basically told each other everything. She had finished telling you all about Riley and what she had found out after the Gentlemen had finally been taken care of. Although, she suddenly changed the topic with a smile and a glint in her eye. She wouldn’t go into detail although she happened to hint about you having a ‘secret admirer’.

Your mind went to Xander and then to willow in almost the same second. Who you suppose you wished it to be. But then, would you want to choose between them? Hurt one at the expense of the other? Would you even be able to choose? Or could you share them both, forget about monogamy, or would that put a strain on their friendship?

Stop. You had to halt all of the scenarios spinning around your head. It was possible it was nobody in your new little friendship group. Perhaps it was a pretty demon that Anya used to know from the olden days that had seen you from afar.

Willow and Xander were sat in the college canteen while you and Buffy were finishing your lecture. Xander had slid in with a group of guys that had finished a game of football so that nobody would question him. They sat and talked for a little but both of their minds had been on you. On their feelings for you. Neither knew that they had never felt this strongly for another person before. They just didn’t know how you could take it.

Willow had been thinking though. She had told Buffy she was gay. She had finally done it. She was a lesbian. She liked girls and only wanted to date girls now. Specifically, you. God, she adored you. Buffy had been surprised at her coming out but after a few months found herself being Will’s biggest supporter. It was easier to accept as Buffy already knew about your sexuality. You had always been open with her about being bi, you just hadn’t gotten around to telling anyone else.

“So, what do you think?” she asked after her usual rambling as she tried to broach the subject with Xander. She needed to see what he would say. She had realised instead that he had zoned out. His eyes watching for someone who was supposed to be here soon.

“Hm?”

“About y/n. I was thinking of asking her out-”

“You can’t!” Xander said, his voice had gone high-pitched at the suggestion. He then coughed and deepened his voice more than he would usually speak it to compensate, “…She’s not gay, Will”

“You don’t know! What are you th-the king of gay people now?”

“No!” Xander said quickly but his heart wasn’t really in their conversation. All he could ever do now was think of you. There was a pause for a while as both of them thought of the other, knowing now that they both felt the same for you. Then they thought of you. Of how close you had become. How kind and affectionate you could be with them. You cared for each of them but neither of them could help but wish for more. Xander suddenly spoke up again, still staring into the distance, “I know, of course I know. Do you, uh, really think… you know?”

“Sometimes she looks at me and I forget to do the breath-y thing” Willow admitted, now rubbing her hands together in her anxiety.

“Well, yeah she does. She’s- Y/n!” He suddenly said, his voice announcing you as he saw you walk towards them. You smiled and waved a little as you weaved between the tables to get to your friends.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s-” Willow replied, not realising you had been standing behind

“Hey, Y/n! Our Y/n, uh, Y/n our friend!” Xander said a little more urgently, over whatever Willow had been trying to say about your sexuality.

You smile and slide into a seat beside them. Both of them made you so comfortable to be around, you had this sense of home around both of them.

“Buffy caught up to Riley in the corridor, so it’s just me today,”

“That’s good!” Willow said, “Well, n-not good that she isn’t here but good that you are and that they have time together”

“Yeah, I think they’ll be okay. I hope so anyway, he could be good for Buffy right? I don’t know much about Angel but she looks so sad every time someone talks about him”

Willow nodded but Xander wasn’t quite listening. He was trying to think of a way to subtly change the subject from Buffy’s love life to yours. He ended up throwing subtlety out of the window an blurt it out.

“So, Y/n, how would you describe your type. What would your ideal man-”

“O-or woman! Or anybody else!”

“Oh, uh, well I’m not sure I have one type. I fall for people for more than their looks I guess. It just depends on the person!” You smiled but faltered slightly as their brows furrowed at your answer. It wasn’t specific enough for them to gauge who you might be interested in.

However, Willow loved your answer, as did Xander. He was usually a little insecure that he wasn’t the best looking guy or that he made too many jokes to be taken seriously by anyone. But of course, with you, it was different. You could sense goodness from them. You could sense love and promise and potential and you adored spending time with them so much.

But you could feel there was a slight tension. As if they were competing where usually they wouldn’t. Or that they were in some kind of unresolved discussion.

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity! We are, um, curious cats”

“If for example, Willow asked you on a date and uh, for the sake of this totally hypothetical situation, I also asked you out too – who would you pick?”

“Well, I think that I would be happy with either of you” You shrugged. And their mouths both widened in surprise at the same time. Neither of them had even considered you might like men and women. Even after you said this as you had to elaborate, “I’m bisexual”

They smiled at you, somewhat satisfied with this answer and both hugged you tightly at you admittance. You couldn’t help grinning so wide at their warmth. Then they caught each other’s eye and saw that they mirrored each other’s expression. That they saw that they had a chance with you. At your love. As you got up and excused yourself that you had to get to another class, there was a silent agreement. Both of them were set on competing for your attention. Especially now that they knew they definitely could have a chance to be by your side.

You weren’t really sure what to make of their question, you told yourself not to think too much into it. Just in case your mind began to spit out unrealistic scenarios that would disappoint you. You left them, not aware that they were both intently watching you leave. Your form dancing away from them in that way that they loved. Their eyes never left you and their thoughts lingered even longer.

One day, you would probably have to make some kind of decision. For now, you were just pleased that they accepted you for who you were. That you couldn’t sense even the smallest change in their fondness for you when you told them. For now, you could enjoy their love, whether platonic or otherwise and keep spending as much free time as you could with them.

#Willow rosenberg x reader #xander harris x reader #xander harris #willow rosenberg #willow x reader #xander x reader #willow rosenberg imagine #xander harris imagine #willow rosenberg x you #xander harris x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines

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monsterfuneral · 4 years ago

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sparks in the rain | bill and ted | ch. 2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Coming Soon

Relationship: Poly!Bill and Ted x Fem!Reader

Summary: A malfunction with the booth lands Bill and Ted into the most peculiar situation they’ve been in, stuck in the year 2021 standing in front of a woman they never thought they’d meet.

Words: 1.5

Warnings/Tags: nothing

Author’s Note: After like actually outlining this a little more, I think this story will end up being one of my favorites I’ve written.

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

This was the most unusual day for both Bill and Ted. Sure they had experienced mishaps with the booth, and sure they had also met people that they vaguely knew about. But they had never met someone that knew about them. Especially when it came to an on screen babe like Armageddon Lady, who had totally been Bill’s biggest crush for a majority of his teenage years. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Ted though. And here she was in the weirdest of coincidences, standing right in front of them.

“What?” Ted asked dumbly as he heard the girl in front of them blurt their names. His brain struggled to keep up with the situation.

“Dude she totally knows who we are somehow!” Bill said with an almost starstruck look on his face, his eyes sparkling in amazement.

You stayed silent though, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth agape as you, like Ted, tried to process what you was going on. While running into celebrities in the middle of your apartment complex was one thing that would never happen, seeing two movie characters that you liked standing just seven feet away from you was next to impossible… No it was impossible.

You had to be dreaming still. A very vivid dream where you were going to the crafts store to pick up a new set of markers, before suddenly running into Bill and Ted of all people... In a dream. There was literally no other logical explanation.

“Woah, you look like you’re going to hurl, Miss. Armageddon Lady, dude- babe.” Bill stumbled on his words like a nervous child talking to his first crush. Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth.

“I- This isn’t real.” You concluded, finally removing your hand from inside of your purse and straightening your back. You were almost tempted to just turn around and walk back into your apartment, but you didn’t. Instead you thought over the jumbled words Bill had said to you, something sticking out more than anything else. “Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, your brows drawing together as you looked at the blonde for answers who looked at you with widened eyes.

Ted suddenly remembered something Rufus had told them not too long ago, alternative universes and whatnot, where things are different from their world but can also connect somehow. He talked about how sometimes the booth can malfunction and send them rocking into another circuit without them even noticing. That’s probably how they ended up here!

“Bill... I don’t think we’re in our world anymore.” Ted chimed before Bill could even attempt to come up with a sufficient answer that would satisfy you.

“What?” Bill asked, looking up at Ted.

“Yeah! Remember the thing Rufus told us a few months back?”

“Don’t over-tighten the guitar strings because they could break?” Bill answered, bringing up an entirely different conversation they had with Rufus.

Ted shook his head looking behind his shoulder and to the still sparking booth “No dude! The whole alternate dimension thingy.”

“OH YEAH!”

You watched the both of them converse, your own brain still trying to catch up with the bizarre situation, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. You tried pinching your arm a few times, at least testing it out to see if that trick even worked, but you were still standing in the same place right in front of them. It was all so much to process at once and so early in the day, even though it may have been 11am, it was still too much.

“So you really didn’t put in the wrong number then.”

“I told you so Bill!”

They paused, smiling at each other before both shouting “Excellent!” in unison before air guitaring. The action was all too familiar but unfortunately missed the overlapping guitar that would play when they did it. Both boys stared at each other for a second afterwards, beaming smiles still ontheir faces. Their stare lasted a beat longer than you were used to seeing on screen.

A shiver wracked through your body, the jacket you had not shielding you from the cold that the rain brought like you had hoped it would. You clutched your arms, pulling them a little tighter to your chest. It only continued to solidify the fact that this was probably real and not a dream at all, like you had thought. I mean, sure you had considered the possibility of fictional universes being real, who hasn’t? But it was just a theory you played into half-heartedly but never considered it to actually be true.

A hand waved in front of your face, jolting from your deep train of thought where everything you previously thought was impossible could be and it was just too much. Reality as you knew it was both expanding and collapsing all at the same time.

“You good, other dimension babe?” Bill asked, a small smile on his face as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Ted tilted his head as he watched you curiously. Sure you looked like Armageddon Lady and her actress, but you were neither, you just looked like them. He had an easier time accepting this as a reality than you did though, already having his experience with the impossible. But you looked like you were about to explode from the overload of information. He felt sympathetic. He thought back to a conversation he had with Rufus a year after their first time traveling in the booth, remembering how Rufus told him how he had seen others cope with the discovery of time travel, how some people just could not handle the information and it literally drove them to insanity. Ted would feel like such a dick if that happened to you, even if he didn’t know you.

“I-” You started, abruptly stopping as you tried to piece your words together “I think so?” You clutched the strap to your purse a little harder, blunt nails digging into the leather slightly “This is all just… A lot to process.”

“That’s okay!” Ted reassured softly with a wide grin, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly as he nodded and looked down at Bill who was also nodding along.

Your fingers were starting to feel numb and you shifted on your feet for the first time since you were stopped in your tracks. Your knees felt stiff from not moving for so long and you were shaking a lot more than you thought, the cold starting to deep into your bones and making your teeth chatter. You were sure they weren’t feeling any better as they were both wearing short sleeved shirts, and Bill was wearing a crop top.

“I know you guys don’t know me but it’s freezing out here and it’s supposed to get colder.” You said looking back at your apartment door, trying to draw your coat closer around you “Would you like to come inside? I can make some coffee-” You watched Bill pull a face at the mention of the bitter beverage “Or some hot chocolate, up to you.”

“Sounds great.” Ted answered, glancing behind him once more at the booth before back at you, “Lead the way!”

The warmth of your apartment was more welcoming than the quickly dropping temperature outside. The rain clouds had left the sky dark and your living room was close to being pitch black. You carefully maneuvered past the couch and over the bean bags that were carelessly strewn across the floor in front of the TV stand. You felt for the pull-chain underneath the lamp shade, the black tassels tickling against your forearm. Finally your fingers grasped around the thin chain, gently yanking it and letting the light finally fill most of the room. The large leg lamp glowed on the small table tucked in the corner of your living room. A lovely gag gift you had been rewarded on christmas a year or two before at a friend’s party. While A Christmas Story was very much an overplayed movie on the holiday’s and certainly not your favorite, you still enjoyed the gift. Finding it pretty cool that someone had gone through the effort of getting something like this as the winner’s gift.

“Woah...” One of the boy’s muttered from behind your couch. You turned around and gave them a small smile, walking over to the other side of the living room to turn on the other lamp so the room was fully lit up and you weren’t going to trip over your own feet by accident.

“Pretty neat huh?” You asked, always finding people’s reactions to the infamous lamp rather funny.

They both looked at you simultaneously, their eyes sparkling in wonder.

“You’re so cool…” Ted whispered.

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to push down the heat that had suddenly started to rise up your neck, to your cheeks, and finally finishing at your ears. Never in your life did you think you could be receiving praise from Ted Theodore Logan himself. This really felt like it was too good to be true.

“Thanks.” You replied, turning your back to them so they didn’t catch on to your flustered state. “So, how about that hot chocolate?” You asked, walking over to the white cabinet that held your collection of mugs.

#bill bnt #ted bnt #bill and ted #bill s preston x reader #bill s preston imagine #bill s preston esquire #ted theodore logan x reader #ted theodore logan imagine #ted theodore logan #bnt imagine #bnt x reader #monster writes

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years ago

Text

The Late Shift - Part 2

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Little inklings of sexual themes. Otherwise we’re still in PG territory. Oh and mutual pining from two idiots. My favourite kind.

Authors Note: One shot? I don’t know her. Honestly, I don’t have any excuse. I just felt the urge to continue on with this dumb fluffy story because it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside and I needed that. Will we drive this car straight into smut town afterwards? Ah you’ll just have to see.

Catch up with Part 1 here

Paul always considered himself a smart guy. Perceptive, knowledgeable, with years of grueling education behind him to be where he is today.

His schooling, work, almost every minute of his waking moments was spent in the realm of artificial illustrations of correspondence. He could happily spend hours sifting through the words and numbers that made up all types of message transmission, might even admit he had a talent for decoding their significance and origin. Exchanges born from machinery were easy to analyse – they had set rules and gave little room for differing interpretation. He was comfortable in that world. Knew how things worked, what paths data and carefully devised information would take.

Human communication was infinitely harder to navigate. It was a skill he knew he was lacking in, compared to others at least. His words never came out the way he wanted, he struggled to say exactly what was wished to convey and agonised over the fact expression and tone could morph any remark into something with a whole different meaning.

Every day, he encountered people who used this as a tool - a weapon to obscure the truth and conceal hidden agendas. It was hard not to, working for the US government. In time, he’d become cynical. Wary of what people spoke aloud, assuming it was all said without much sincerity or reliability unless proven otherwise.

And then after another arduous day, there you were. Out of nowhere. Kind. Honest. Genuine. Within such an excruciatingly short interaction, you’d exuded all these traits so effortlessly. A breath of fresh air after being smothered by the smog the rest of his life contained.

Paul would easily admit his attraction to you was surprisingly swift. The rapturing smile you wore when you’d looked up from your notepad had him snared from the moment it appeared, an aura of natural vibrance and radiant energy shimmering out from your animated expression. What he’d expected to be a dry, tedious endeavour turned into a spark-filled scene, where an excited stranger made him feel both horrendously nervous and unusually at-ease. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.

It had also been a long time since he’d asked someone out on a date, for more than a few reasons. The more prolific Paul became in his job, the more unpredictable and unstable his life outside of it was. It took him across the country at a moments’ notice and consumed most hours of his day, meaning forging even short relationships was fairly difficult.

Plus… he just wasn’t good at it. Putting himself out there. He was shy, paralyzingly so. It’s not exactly something he could refute. His confidence was always born from experience and understanding, in knowing the reasons behind why things worked the way they did, along with being able to calculate what would happen next. No textbook could ever cover the entire spectrum of human personality, and there was no way to truly predict what a person might do or say.

So, without the security of knowledge behind him, uneasiness and apprehension took over in most of his social interactions, particularly with those he felt a magnetism to. It’s exactly how he thought he seemed during his time with you. Awkward and floundering. Not exactly the most charming attributes for a man to have. And yet, the longer he was in your presence, the more he sensed those foibles fade into the back of his mind.

Talking to you was easy. Easier than it had been with anyone during a first meeting. What hadn’t been easy was enduring the seconds your touch grazed over him in your delicate workings while taking each different measurement - his heart beating a little faster, his muscles becoming a little more tense. When you’d eventually let your stare reach his, he’d seen how your eyes moved to trace the lines of his mouth, and it set his insides on fire. He’d been frozen by the unique type of burn, his body locked in place while a rare impulse begged him to sink his lips onto yours. In the past, he struggled to kiss a woman even after several dates, unable to push past the fear and doubt to turn his desire into action. However, in that moment, he’d been all too eager. His hand had moved on its own accord, fingers slinking up your waist, about to pull you closer when interruption instantly shattered his resolve.

The urge was still there in the dialogue that followed, although the promise of seeing you tomorrow made it easier to walk away, safe in the knowledge he had another opportunity to ask you out when his confidence was properly steeled. For once, he could be smart about this. Use his natural intellect to plan and act accordingly, giving him the best odds of securing more time with you.

Oh, but that all went to shit when your text message popped up on his phone screen. Seeing those words, even if they were meant for someone else, made his excitement reach an unfathomable peak, and in turn made him recklessly send a response without taking a second to think about the consequences.

And now, Paul had never felt so stupid in his entire life.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, the phone in his palm lit up with your conversation on display, he felt his stomach spasm with anxiety. Were you going to reply? What would you say? What if his bluntness freaked you out? What if you weren’t even talking about him? Was this all something his mind conjured up?

As the minutes passed without any sign of a response, the initially minor sense of panic began to compound, weighing heavy on his chest, the chaos of his mind soon melting into one certainty - he’d totally fucked this up.

About to slump his forehead into the steering wheel in a display of despondency, Paul suddenly felt a flash of courage at remembering the view of your face peering up at him. He knew the image of it would haunt him if he didn’t do something. He had to fix this. Explain himself. But it needed to be in person. He wouldn’t let technology mess this up for him again.

With a purposeful breath, Paul exited his car and began to retrace his steps past the other shopfronts, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say to you. He hoped to surrender himself to a collectively embarrassing situation, laugh off the turn of events, having it all culminate in an offer of dinner once your shift had finished. He already had a place in mind, only a street away, a little dumpling house that was always open late. Perfect for a cosy, quiet date after a chance meeting.

When his eyes latched onto your figure through the glass window, he stopped his hand from reaching for the door handle. You were crouching down in front of a small boy, his mother behind him cradling a newborn baby, your hand gesturing towards an array of child size suits. Paul couldn’t help but watch as your warming smile beamed, guiding the boys hands to touch and feel over the material, your words evidently making him feel more at ease as his expression slowly relaxed out of its worried frown.

Creeping backwards to make sure you didn’t catch him in your periphery, Paul felt a wave of relief wash over his skin, having evidence that your lack of reply wasn’t due to any of the worst case scenarios he’d been fretting over. You were just busy, concentrated on your work, giving your time and expertise to others in the same way you’d given to him.

The realisation was enough for him slink away, still impatient for your next encounter but assured in it being set within the next day cycle. He just had to wait.

Although, waiting wasn’t exactly a talent of his either.

You were dying inside.

A friendly grin was plastered on your face as you conversed sweetly with the woman in front of you, making idle chit-chat while her son changed out of the suit you’d picked together, but the smile had never felt so insincere. Usually you loved when children came in to pick out ensembles for weddings and similarly formal events, but at the moment your mind was stuck on a small battery-powered rectangle sitting at your desk with a half-written message remaining under your lock-screen.

In the time before Paul’s response came through, you’d never felt more humiliated in your whole existence. Evaporating into thin air would have been a welcomed miracle. But when the returning text slid into focus, your whole mindset shifted.

He felt the same. He wanted you too.

You’d been in the middle of typing out a hasty invitation to come back and make true on his intentions when this overwhelmed mother with a fussy baby caught your attention. Her eldest son had done his best to iron out his only formal suit for the role of ring bearer in an aunt’s wedding this coming weekend, unfortunately resulting an a house full of smoke and a clump of burnt wool.

Personal matters withered into the background at the comprehension of her drained, exhausted demeanour, all your focus pointed back towards the job you’d been distracted from. Well, mostly.

You couldn’t avoid the thoughts and questions glinting in the back of your mind. Of what might have happened if this woman never appeared. What might be happening in an alternate timeline where you’d been able to send that waiting reply. Without intention, your wonderings turned into moving pictures – leading Paul into the back workshop, being roughly picked up onto the cutting table, his lips and yours finally connected in a heated clash, shedding all of his clothing until that heinous mustard shirt was crumpled on the floor-

The high pitched beep of the receipt machine snapped you back into reality, noting the relieved smile the mother wore while her son excitedly grabbed at the bags containing his dashing new suit.

“Thank you!” he hollered without needing to be prompted, waving his hand vigorously before skittering away to the door.

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” the woman echoed, taking the receipt from your outstretched hand. “I’m really sorry for keeping you so late.”

“Oh don’t worry about it.” The time on the monitor screen just ticked over to 8:17pm, long after you would usually shut up shop and head home to your empty apartment. “I've got nowhere special to be.”

You each said your goodbyes, waiting until the precise moment her silhouette was out of sight before jumping to your phone. The same half written message was there, but now it felt impossible to finish. All traces of adrenaline had long since worn off, and the bravery that made you type out the risqué proposition was reduced to almost nothing. Your timid nature rushed back in full force, a thumb pressing hard on the little x button to erase all evidence of your out of character impulses.

Who were you kidding. You weren’t this person. Unashamed and brazen enough to dive into a fiery entanglement with a handsome stranger in the same evening you’d met. You wished you could be. There was never a time the concept was so enticing. But… it was a fantasy not meant for you to live out. They were destined for the outgoing, the cool and composed, the bold and sure-footed. You rarely felt like any of those things. And Paul, like most men, probably reserved their interest and attraction for those types of women. It was so silly of you to think any different. Getting your hopes up was foolish, and would only end in-

The tingle of the shopkeepers bell sounded, internally groaning as you slid your phone back onto the desk. “We’re closed,” you hawked, a coldness in your tone you couldn’t hide. Eyes snapping up to the intruder, a bolt of lightening shot through, barely able to stop the delight mixing into your blood.

“I just, uh, figured out something more that I needed,” Paul said softly, scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“You did?” you breathed. “W-what was it?”

His chest rose and fell with a calming exhale, making sure your stares were secured before giving his answer. “…You.”

Tagging some lovelies who might want to read. Feel free to let me know if you don’t want to tagged in future works!

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza @millenialcatlady

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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thessalian · 3 years ago

Note

[ LIFT ] for Alisaie and Remi? :D

Because chores were a thing at Hearthhome, Remi and Alisaie got cheerfully press-ganged into helping with the dishes after breakfast. Alisaie was putting plates away when she felt a tug on her pants at about knee-level. She looked down to find Zanna looking way, way up at her, clearly bursting to ask a question. She gave the gnome girl an encouraging little smile before putting the plate she'd been holding on its stack.

Zanna didn't keep her waiting long. "You're tall. I mean, not just tall to me 'cos gnome, but taller than Hazel and Clarity and ... I know it's hard not to have conversations with people when you can't look them in the face without bending up or down. And probably other things get tricky too. But you married somebody way shorter. Doesn't that get ... tricky?"

"Okay. The logistics of some of those 'other things' I am not touching because just no." Hearing Remi clear her throat from over by the sink where she was drying the dishes to be put away, Alisaie knew she'd made the right call. Then she grinned. "But I can show you how a totally face-to-face conversation can happen without anyone getting a crick in the neck."

Remi paused in the act of reaching for a plate to dry at that, and was rewarded for her foresight when Alisaie picked her up, sort of pirouetted her in mid-air and set her gently down in a sitting position on the countertop. This left Remi pretty much on eye level with her wife of about three weeks, looking not displeased but definitely a bit bewildered. "Uh ... okay. That happened."

Alisaie leaned forward and rubbed her nose against Remi's gently. "Hi. I just wanted to tell you that you're awesome and I'm glad you agreed to marry me."

The matter-of-fact yet heartfelt honesty of that statement had Remi blushing even more, and she ended up groping for words, because 'thank you' didn't seem quite right and 'you're welcome' seemed way too full of herself and all of the other romantic things she could have said came with significant difficulty around an eight-year-old. All she could do was stifle the giggle, or at least convert the sheepish, "Aheheheh" into another cleared-throat before it got high-pitched and bashful. Alisaie helped with the stifling by giving her a quick kiss on the lips - short and sweet and nothing unsuitable for children.

Then she lifted Remi back down off the counter and glanced over at Zanna with a grin. "See? Love, like life, finds a way."

Zanna thought about that for a moment and then asked, "But what if they don't want to get lifted?"

"Well, if you know them well enough, you know if and when it's not wanted. Like, Ree didn't seem to have a problem with it..."

Remi, who'd gone back to drying the dishes as a good way to hide her blush, didn't bother turning around, so no one could see the smile that was audible in her voice when she said, "No, I did not."

That got a nod and further contemplation from Zanna until she hit another question. "Well, what if they're not strong enough for the lifting?"

Alisaie shrugged. "That's when they find a really comfy chair and get used to someone sitting in their lap. Or get used to having conversations on stairs. There are always ways, and you figure out the ones that work. Now c'mon; I'm pretty sure you have things to do and I don't want to chase you out with questions about any taller people you might want to be lifted by."

Zanna let out an embarrassed and indignant squeak and fled the kitchen. Remi gave Alisaie a sidelong look. "You couldn't have shooed her out before she started asking awkward questions?"

"Sure. And then I could have had a curious gnome girl peering in at us through windows to get answers every time we pass through. Besides," she added, smiling in a soft, sweet way that only ever really got directed at Remi, "I'm going to take every excuse for sweet nothings and the occasional smooch. That wasn't just an excuse; that was an engraved invitation."

Remi ducked her head a little, smiling bright but bashfully. "Well, I'm not likely to ever complain about that."

"Good." After putting another plate on the shelf, she added, "Other things later, though. Now that I've ensured lack of interested audience through windows."

"Alisaie!" Remi threw her dishcloth at Alisaie's head.

#Alisaie #Fic #PROMPTS FOR THE PROMPT GOD #WORDS FOR THE WORD THRONE

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

Johnny storm fic rec where he had a daughter young and even though he is an arrogant fuckboy he’s a really great father

Hi lovely. First of all, thank you for the request, i love it and second of all, i’m so sorry for the long wait. I’ll be saying this to everyone who has requested because i’ve been terrible with writing.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader

Warning: None, all cute and fluffy. Soft Johnny.

Word Count: 1,481

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @pantherclawz go check them out❤️

My World

First things first, you’re not the usual type that even drives past bars like these let alone stepping a single foot in one and secondly, you’re not the type to talk to a stranger at a bar like this and yet here you are.

Sat next to said stranger, drink in hand and 10 minutes deep into a conversation but soon enough you get bored. It’s blatantly obvious that he’s a fuck boy, after sex or any kind of fooling around. And to say you’re opposed would be an understatement. You don’t do that. You actually prefer to get to know the person before any kind of intimacy takes place.

He continues to go on about his plans for the rest of the night before turning to you “so, fancy joining me?” he asks, a hint of optimism in his voice and what he will never admit to anyone right now is that he just wants the company. He knows all about the reputation his name holds but he’s not after anything like that. As much as it comes across like he sleeps with anything that has a pulse, it’s not entirely true. He too likes to get to know the other person before jumping into bed with them.

But you made a snap judgment, something you tend to do quite a lot.

“Um, yeah. i’ll pass” you turn your head away, rolling your eyes and trying to catch the bar mans attention so that you can order another drink but the mystery dude speaks up again “did i do something wrong?” and you’re back to looking at him again.

You’re quick to defend yourself, stuttering over your words “y-yes, i mean n-no. No, you didn’t. I’m sorry”

“Sure seems like it” he chuckles nervously and silence falls upon the two of you, an awkward one at that.

The bar man brings you your drink and you flash him a smile which he reciprocates, he can probably sense the tension.

Since you’re not talking to this stranger, he takes this as his opportunity to pull his phone out, his lock screen photo appearing and catching your attention. And once you see it, you’re instantly intrigued. It’s a photo of him with a little girl, she must be around 5 at least.

It couldn’t be... could it?

“Who’s that?” your voice makes him jump a little before he sighs “it’s my daughter” his muttering is more than enough of an indication that he really just doesn’t want to talk to you. Maybe you were too much of a bitch to him.

“Look, about before, i’m sorry. I really am i just got the impression that you were after sex”

“You assume the worst a lot then?”

“Yeah it’s kinda my deal, but i’m sorry”

More silence falls upon you both and you have no idea why. Maybe your apology hasn’t been accepted which is understandable. You finish the rest of your drink before checking the time on your watch, it’s getting kind of late now so you should definitely get home.

The only reason you came here in the first place was because you broke up with your boyfriend. It destroyed you to even say those words to him but you just weren’t in it anymore. You fell out of love and this was the only place you could think of that wouldn’t involve you bumping into someone you already know.

“How much for the drinks?” you ask and the bar man stalks over to your spot “2 shots of tequila and 2 vodka sodas. That’ll be 35″ he winks and you rummage through your purse to find the money before eventually sliding it over to him and putting your coat back on.

But before you can leave, the guy speaks up.

“For the record, i wasn’t after sex and i accept your apology”

That alone makes you smile and soon after he turns around to face you again.

“I was talking to you because you seemed down. I was hoping to maybe cheer you up and maybe get a kiss along the way” he smirks, chuckling to himself about his joke.

“You really know how to change someones perception don’t you” you giggle, taking your seat next to him again “i’m Y/N by the way” you hold your hand out to shake his.

“Johnny” he takes your hand in his, shaking it and somehow causing shivers to run down your spine.

“So how old is your daughter?” you scoot a little closer and he turns his phone on to give you another glimpse at her “5. Yeah i was young when i had her. Her mom and i split up shortly after, it was mutual and i guess it made us better parents”

“Really how so?”

“Well we certainly don’t argue anymore that’s for sure”

“How was it, having a daughter so young” you enquire

“It was hard, i’ll admit. But she’s my world, i wouldn’t give her up or change her for anything”

You can’t believe this, you had him all wrong. You go to ask him more about her but he beats you to it.

“Anyway, enough about me, what about you, what brought a gorgeous girl like you here all alone tonight?”

“Fresh off a breakup and so i decided drowning my sorrows and guilt here would be a great decision” and somehow the compliment catches you off guard but you cover it.

“Well, whatever it is try not to feel bad. I’m sure he’ll heal and if you weren’t happy then you did what was best”

“Quite the advice giver aren’t you?”

A smug look appears as he agrees without even so much as a second to hesitate “i am indeed”

All of a sudden his phone lights up with the name Eva appearing.

“Hey”

“Yeah sure, i got time, is she okay?”

“Put her on the phone”

“Lily honey, why aren’t you asleep?” he asks, different pitch in his voice and now it’s obvious he’s talking to his daughter.

“Well, what would help you sleep?”

“Daddy? Um, is mommy okay with this?”

A loud laugh escapes his mouth as you watch him happily, he seems so fulfilled with being a dad. Like it’s second nature to him to take care of his daughter and put her needs before his own. The definition of a great dad.

“Okay, i’ll be there soon sweetie okay?”

“Okay, i love you too”

He hangs up the phone, a huge grin plastered across his face “sorry about that”

“No, don’t apologise. Was that your daughter?”

“Lily? Yeah. She can’t sleep and has pretty much demanded i go over to read her a story so i better get going” he takes out some money to hand the bar man before slipping his leather jacket back on and standing up. You do the same following him out of the bar and into the street to hail a cab.

“It was really nice meeting you by the way” he stops as a cab pulls up next to the pavement and he opens the door for you “yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Short but sweet” you say, unsure of whether or not a hug or a kiss would be appropriate right now.

After the events of the last hour, you gotta say you’d love to see him again.

Before you can even make that decision though, he leans in, his lips touching yours ever so slightly. Enough for it to be a kiss but you can see he’s holding back so you close the gap between you and place your hands either side of his face to deepen it.

Somehow you get the feeling that you were supposed to meet him, even if you only spoke to him for an hour. It was enough to make you feel good and take your mind off of your current situation.

Plus it’s not often you’re wrong about people and he totally took you by surprise.

Once you pull away and open your eyes, he’s even more smiley than he was previously.

“Do you mind if i get your number?” he scratches the back of his head nervously and it causes butterflies to form in your stomach “sure”

After giving it to him you get into the cab and he shuts the door before leaning into the window “see you soon then”

“See you soon, Johnny”

Yeah you were more than wrong about him.

-------------------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @kaminorogers @yassspose @randomsevans

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @whxre4cevans

LMK if you wanna be added to my tag list...

#johnny storm #johnny storm fluff #fantastic four #chris evans #chris evans fluff #johnny storm x reader #x reader #reader inserts #fanfiction #fluff #requests #johnny storm x fem!reader #johnny storm x female reader

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sunshineseung · 4 years ago

Text

Sinner Part 2 // Felix

💌 Info: Stray Kids Felix x female!reader smut 💕 Includes: dom!reader x sub!felix, themes of religion, teasing, exhibitionism/fear of being caught, first time, loss of innocence, establishment of safeword, degradation and praise, oral/fingering (receiving), unprotected sex, riding, cum play, slight aftercare ✏️ Word Count: ~4.2k

Please read part one of this series first :) Thank you!

The rain was pouring in the pitch black outside, but the lights inside the church hall were bright as day. The only occupant of the church on this night was Lee Felix deep in prayer, oblivious to the storm outside. With hands folded and head bowed, he whispered his prayer through his lips, a slight echo of his words spreading through the otherwise empty room.

Felix jolts up at the sound of the main entrance being opened and slammed shut quickly after. A feminine sigh can be heard, and Felix lets out a shy “hello” to the intruder of his private repentance time.

“Oh, you’re here?” You say while entering the main hall, throwing your wet jacket over one of the pews. “I thought this place would have been empty.”

“What are you doing here?” Felix retorts immediately, slightly offended that of all people to walk in at this moment, it had to be you.

“I should be asking you the same thing, little boy.” You shuffle the hair on his head, earning an annoyed grunt from him. “The bitch ass pastor’s making me clean the archives in the basement since I... caused some trouble earlier this week.”

“Caused some trouble? Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Felix was beyond offended at this point. If it wasn’t your name-calling of the pastor, it was your dismissal of your actions. “You and your group of friends painted sinful phrases on the side of the church!”

“It was all in good fun, damn. Chill out.” While, yes, spray painting God Loves Lesbians on the wall of the church was questionable, it was fun! And best of all, the pastor said he wouldn’t call authorities if you cleaned the basement. “It was worth it anyway. Did you see the look on his face? Priceless!”

The boy was boiling with rage, but he held his anger back in fear of cursing or saying the Lord’s name in vain. Despite hating you, part of him wanted to save you. While not being the healthiest mindset, Felix felt like he could save anyone from sin, and he was going to try to save what he called the rodent of the congregation.

“Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?” Your tone of voice edged on sarcasm, you having full knowledge of his nightly prayer. He had calmed down, remembering that he was in a place of the Lord. His face returned from red back to it’s normal hue, and he looked to you with gentle eyes.

“I was praying. I did some questionable things this week too.” His admission to sin took you aback. You didn’t expect everyone’s favorite boy to openly confide in you that he committed an act against his God, something you never thought he would do.

“What kind of questionable things?” Your interest was piqued, and his sudden bluntness was just what you wanted to see. What resides in the mind of Felix?

“I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He looks into his lap, a sudden wave of shyness clouding him. You sit next to him on the pew, patting his back to comfort him. Despite him being so critical of your actions, you did have a soft spot for the sweet boy. “I... pleasured myself.”

You almost burst out into laughter, but you had to suppress that for now, because the most holy person you knew just said he masturbated, and he felt bad about it. As someone who was not shy to doing that specific act among other ungodly things, to see someone repent for doing something totally natural in your eyes was otherworldly.

“It’s okay, Felix. Sex is natural.” You attempted to comfort him, but you could tell by the deepness in his eyes that he still regretted what he did. Also, when you so casually said the word sex, he winced a bit since he hated the word so much. “You have nothing to be ashamed for. Everyone masturbates.”

“You don’t understand!” The raise in his voice boomed through the desolate church hall, and you darted your look towards him in shock. “It wasn’t just that.” His voice got soft again, almost a whisper. You lean in to hear him. “I watched the most sinful videos. I thought about myself doing those horrid things. I feel filthy.”

“Lix, I understand completely. Do you think I haven’t done those exact name things?” You raise your eyebrow at him, and he timidly shakes his head. “You’re a young adult. This is normal. Don’t let it eat you up, okay?”

“Okay.” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine, and it just hit you that you were basically giving him the birds and the bees talk. A comforting smile graces your face as you get up from your seat next to Felix.

“I should go start cleaning the basement. Mind helping me?” You hold your hand out to him, offering some more time to spend with you. He reluctantly takes your hand, and you help him stand from the pew. You two silently make your way into the damp basement of your church.

Dust, cobwebs, and the sent of mold cover the dreary basement as you and Felix step down. The conversation in the basement is much more lighthearted, but you can’t shake the image of Felix masturbating out of your head. You’ve never thought of the star child like that before, but his confession made you see him in a new light. He wasn’t above you. He was a teenager driven by sex and hormones like everyone else.

Once the basement was tidy, books arranged on shelves and dust swept away, you exchanged phone numbers with the boy and headed on your merry way, but that was far from the last time you would hear from Felix.

Over the next two weeks, Felix would text you casually. It started as a nice, wholesome friendship: discussing classes, complaining about personal things, and sharing homework. No matter what the conversation topic was, your mind would wander to the more dark and depraved side of your persona. You wanted to pick his brain on a multitude of topics, but most of all: sex. Since confessing his scandal to you, you wanted to know if he did it again, what he’s into, or even if he’s thought about you.

One night, in a heightened state of mind, you text him a simple question: Have you jerked off since that night? Sure, you regretted it when you sobered up, but you got the answer you wanted... sort of.

I’ve wanted to, but I also want to get into heaven unlike some people. Wow, pointed. However, I have watched more... pornographic films??? Sometimes the girl puts the mans... in her mouth, and it’s scary. Why would someone want to do that?

After explaining to the poor boy what a blowjob is and why it’s amazing, he takes two days to respond to your text, something he’s never done before. It was radio silence, and you didn’t bother to try to garner a response, because you knew Felix was busy

After waiting what seemed like an eternity for a response, you got what you were praying for, and you were worried this would happen.

I’m sorry if this comes off as aggressive, but will you show me a blowjob? Like, perform a blowjob on me? I take back what I said about getting into heaven. I can always beg for forgiveness, but right now, I’m really frustrated.

You’ve created a monster.

When Felix escapes the attic after you give him what you believe to be his first sexual encounter with another person, you quietly reenter the congregation as if you didn’t just cause the prettiest church boy to bust a load on himself minutes before.

“Darling, there you are!” Your mother holds her arms out to you after what you presumed to be a particularly moving speech from the pastor. “We’re having dinner with the Lee family tonight, and I’d expect you to be on your best behavior. Would you like to join us?”

“I’d be happy to go, mom.” Fuck fuck fuck. This was supposed to be a one time thing, and as much as the idea of teasing Felix in front of his family excited you, you’d hate to get caught by your own family, although the devil in you was very willing to take that risk for the slightest bit of sexual satisfaction.

“Great! We’ll head over at 5 o’clock. Please dress up, dear. Your current shirt looks wrinkled. What were y-”

“I’ll dress up, don’t worry!” You cut her off, and her face scrunches, but you’d rather not have to deal with the wrath of your mother. Your father returns to your mother after having a short conversation with Felix’s father.

“Mr. Lee said Felix could be a good influence on you, Y/n.” The temptation to roll your eyes was strong considering the preceding events. “Pay attention to how he talks to his parents. You could learn something, sweetheart.”

As much as you wanted to cause a scene in the church from your father’s condescending tone, you were more focused on getting home and changing your soaked, ruined panties. Your family says their casual goodbyes to the other churchgoers, and you make your way back to the family car, hoping your father speeds home.

“Honey, it’s time to go!” Your mother puts in her second earring as she yells up to your room from the bottom of the stairs. Your door wings open to reveal you in a short red skirt, low-cut white shirt, white dress shoes, and bright red lipstick. “You’re wearing that?”

“It’s fine, ma! Nothing they haven’t seen before!” You whisk past your mother and slide into the backseat of the family car, ready to have dinner with the boy of your nightmares.

When you enter the Lee family household, you can tell Felix’s parents are judging you, but you didn’t dress like that for them. When Felix turns the corner and faces you, his eye practically bulge out of his head. His gaze is glued to your thighs, hips, bust, and lips, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Judging by the sudden tightening in his pants, he clearly enjoys the view.

“Hello! Welcome to our house,” Felix’s mother escorts you inside to the living room. “Make yourself at home until dinner is ready.” She disappears into the kitchen while Felix’s father sits down on the couch and invites you and your family to sit with him. Felix shyly sits next to his father, although there was hardly any room for him to sit there.

Your father and Felix’s father start talking about sports, while your mother goes on her phone. You make eye contact with Felix from across the couch, and his whole body tenses and he breaks into a nervous sweat. Aw, she’s so pretty, what do I do, what do I do, frick, frick, fuck.

Without saying a word, Felix gets up and runs out of the living room. Everyone darts their attention towards him, but no one tries to stop him.

“Dinner’s re- where did Felix go?” His mother enters the living room, but her announcement is halted by the absence of her son. Everyone looks at each other, no one having answers for Felix's tantrum. "Would someone go get him please?"

"I got him." Your devious smirk should set the crowd off, but you make your way up the stairs to where you see Felix's bedroom door. His door had his name on it, so it was pretty clear what room was his.

"Go away." The second he hears your knock, he throws a pillow at his door, as if that would stop you from barging in. You see him sat on his bed, arms crossed, another pillow over his crotch, and his lip in a pout. "Why did you come here wearing that?"

He was definitely on the defense, and you've never seen Felix this angry since the night in the church. "I just thought this outfit was cute." Playing innocent might not have been the best idea at this moment, but you just had to calm him down and get him out to dinner.

"Yeah, it's a nice outfit, but I can see your butt whenever you turn around, and your cleavage is out, and I'm just very confused." He was frustrated at himself more than you. You sit next to him and put your hand on his shoulder, a familiar scene.

"Come down for dinner, and afterwards, I'll show you what I have under this outfit, okay babe?" Felix was so painfully tensed, every nerve of his was on edge. Your words were filthy, but he loved it so much.

He can't stop thinking about you. He wants to do everything to your body: eat you out, fuck your tits, spank your ass. He wants to do every sinful thing he's seen in those videos. Just imagining seeing you in your underwear makes him want to bust in his pants. You're driving him insane, and if Felix from a few weeks ago had seen what he has become, he would be disgusted.

You two make your way downstairs, Felix staring at your ass the entire time, and take your seats at the table. The dinner table was a circle, so you were seated right between Felix and your mother. Not the sexiest setting, but that wouldn't stop you.

The food was delicious, but halfway through, you placed your hand on Felix's thigh, and although you had him pecking the back of your throat earlier that day, he was still extremely sensitive to every touch. When your hand slid up his leg, he let out the quietest moan, and although the table was full of chatter between your parents, you were able to hear the precious sounds leaving Lee Felix as you swiped your hand across his twitching bulge.

Felix grabs your wrist and throws your arm back to you. He gives you a death stare, but his eyes are dark, and he looks so fucking needy. You meet his gaze and adjust your top, pulling it even lower than it already was. His eyes are glued to your tits, but you point down to your crotch, where you're fingering your self under the table. Felix bites his lip, but goes back to eating his food.

You take your wet finger and wipe it against his pant leg. Jesus fucking Christ, you were breaking this boy. His bulge was painfully large, and again, he felt like he could bust in his pants.

"I'm wet for you, baby boy. When dinner's over, do you want to taste me?" You whisper in his ear, and he closes his eyes tightly, trying not to fully fall for your tricks. His pathetic nod is all you need to go back to finishing your dinner, and he does the same, but his mind is fogged with the image of your naked body bouncing on his cock. So pathetic. So, so pathetic.

Dinner ends, Felix's mom takes the plates, and you and Felix disappear back into his room while the adults have their alone time to drink and chat. When he locks the door, you pin him to the wall and lick your lips. You stare him up and down, watching him as he panics. Everything he wanted to do to you escapes him, and he's putty in your hands.

Speechless, Felix rests his hands flush against the wall and tilts his head backwards, giving you full access to his neck. You take the opportunity to make dark hickeys along his neck, which will definitely be visible to his parents later. Your tongue against his skin makes him shudder, and mindless whimpers escape his lips.

"If you ever want to stop, the safe word is red, or snap twice. I'll only go as far as you want to, Lix." He nods, repeats what you said, and you go back to work on his neck.

"C-can I taste you?" His words are feint, but you're more than happy to take his request. You slip your skirt down to the floor and take off your tight shirt, giving Felix a full show of your lingerie you wore just for him.

"You've become such a whore for me, Lix." You traced his body with your hands, sliding your fingertips over his abs and chest. "Do you even know what to do with my pussy, huh? You're so innocent, I doubt you'd be able to make me cum."

His heart was racing, and he wanted nothing more than to prove you wrong. While, yes, he had no idea what he was doing, he wanted to taste your sweet release coat his tongue.

"Teach me." He was being bold. You'd never thought you'd see Felix this confident in this setting, especially since he was admitting to being inexperienced. You took his hands in yours and lead him to the bed. He watched you as you sat on the edge of the bed and spread your legs, giving him full access to your dripping cunt.

"Get on your knees, baby boy." He did as instructed, but this was the first time he was on his knees next to his bed to do anything other than pray. His hands ghosted over your thighs, scared to touch you without your permission.

"May I take off your panties?" You nod and lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your legs. A string of wetness connected you with your panties, and Felix's mouth was watering. Your panties were discarded across the room, and you unhooked your bra and tossed it with the rest of your clothes. "Woah, you're so gorgeous."

You pet his blushing, freckled cheek, and coax him closer to your heat. His lips are hardly centimeters away from you, and you gently tangle your hand in his hair. "Lick my pussy, naughty boy. I know you want to."

Felix bites his lip before diving into your pussy, his tongue exploring every fold. Even though he doesn't know where the clitoris is, he knows that when he licks the top of your pussy, your thighs shake around him, so he circles his tongue through your cunt, and you give him the sweetest praise.

"Such a good boy for me, yeah?" You smile down at him, and the eye contact is intoxicating. You tighten around nothing when his tongue perfectly flicks over your clit. "Finger me, please, baby.”

He inserts his index finger into your core, and it feels like heaven to both of you. Felix imagines it's his cock inside you, and the thought of you tightening around him urges him to take his tight pants off without removing his mouth from your pussy.

"Bend your finger, my slutty little boy. Make your mistress cum on your pretty face." Your high was approaching, and you wanted Felix to work for it. He fucked his finger into you, adding his middle finger in the process. The more he looked at your heat, the more nervous he got, but from the wetness covering his fingers and lips, you didn't notice how nervous he was.

His fingers perfectly pushed into your g-spot, and your orgasm got miles closer. Your moans got louder, and no matter how close your parents were to hearing, you didn't quiet down. Felix loved your moans, and his cock twitches in his underwear.

"You're so hot, Y/n, please cum for me." His voice was hoarse and desperate, but you weren't that easy.

"Suck my clit. Make me cum all over your face, cutie." He aimlessly sucked at your folds, but when he found your clit, he never left that spot. Your violent moans of pleasure made him groan onto your clit, sending you over the edge. Your essence covered his fingers, and he lapped up every bit of your release. "Good boy."

You were out of breath, but Felix just started. He stood up and sat in your lap. You placed your hands on his hips, squeezing him and making him jolt. His erection was painfully pressed against his tight boxers, and you hooked your finger around the waistband and pulled them down his thighs. Although it had only been a few hours, his length never failed to impress you.

"Please fuck me, Y/n. I want to feel you on me." He was so desperate for any sort of touch. You lazily wrapped your hand around his cock and started stroking, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Ride me."

"Very demanding for a little slut, don't you think?" You throw him off your lap, his back harshly slamming onto the bed. Your legs surround his hips as you line your entrance with his cock, and he squeezes his eyes shut. His hands held onto your thighs as if it were life or death, and for him, it was.

Right before you lowered yourself onto him, he felt every negative thought enter his mind. What if I'm not good enough? What if I cum too soon? What if she hates me? What would my parents say if they caught us? God, please forgive me.

You see him grit his teeth, and you stop. You gently pet his cheek again, bringing him back to earth, and more importantly, bringing his attention back on your dripping core hanging over his cock.

Without warning, Felix grabs your hips and pushes you down onto him. He loses all control, and you love it. You stay still once he bottoms out, his face contorting into questionable expressions from the pleasure overwhelming him. He calms down, and you start to ride him, his cock sliding against your walls and filling you up perfectly.

You throw your head back and quicken your pace, chasing your second orgasm. Felix feels himself on the edge, but he holds back, fearful of what will happen if he cums inside you.

"Fuck, Felix, you feel so good." Your moans are so load, and the creaking of the bed is deafening. Felix's deep grunts and growls sound amazing, and his grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise. "So good, baby boy, so good."

His finger lingers to the familiar spot that is your clitoris, although Felix doesn't know that fully. He circles his finger around your sensitive bud, and his other hand grips your tit. His hands feel so good, and with one more press into your g-spot, you coat his cock in your cum. He thrusts into you when you tighten around him, and his orgasm is threatening to release, but he refuses to be the father of a child with someone who he is not married to.

You ride out your high on his cock, and when you return back to earth, you remove yourself and harshly wrap your hand around his cock. Your pumps are violent, and his body is aching for an orgasm. You bend over and lick the tip, his cum coating your tongue and face. He opens his eyes, cum squirted onto your face, and he's sure you'll be mad at him, but you lick your lips, collect his cum from your face, and swallow every last drop.

Without a word, you topple over next to him, and you rest your head on his chest. He hesitantly wraps his arm around you, and you muzzle into him.

"You're so good for me, Felix." You whisper into him, but he hear every word. He smiles, unable to speak after the intense orgasm he just experienced. "We need to go back downstairs, you know?"

After a few moments of silence, Felix speaks up. "Y/n, this is... wrong." He sits up, your head falling onto the bed and his arms holding him up. "We shouldn't have done this."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, b-"

"Then nothing is wrong." You pat his back, admiring the defined muscles. You sit up with him and look at the clothes scattered across the room. "Sex isn't bad, Lix."

"This just goes against what I've been taught my entire life." He pauses, deep in thought. "Sex is good." He repeats under his breath.

You stand up and stretch, your ass catching Felix's eye. He sighs and accepts his actions, clearing his floor of the discarded clothing and getting dressed again.

"Felix, can I borrow a hoodie?" You hold up a hoodie from the local Christian radio station, and Felix shrugs. "Thanks, babe."

"Y/n, do you like me?" You stop in your tracks after Felix's question, and you honestly don't know how to answer. Did you like Lee Felix?

"I'm not sure, but maybe we could go on a date sometime." Your tone was casual, but your mind was racing. Before this, you thought you didn't have feelings for the cute little church boy, but now that you've been confronted with it, you didn't know how to feel.

"... Sure."

#ur-net #staysmutblr #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fan fiction #skz fanfic #skz fan fiction #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #kpop fan fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz felix smut #stray kids felix smut #felix smut

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sevenseasofbangtan · 4 years ago

Text

BTS REACTION — HOW YOU MET (IDOL VERSION)

Summary: Idol!BTS meet Foreigner!Reader

Warnings: None, except maybe light cursing, reference to a car crash and mentions of alcohol being consumed.

Note: In these scenarios, all members are fluent in English (or they can at least hold a good conversation). I tried to keep all the scenarios gender-neutral, although I had a specific vision in mind for Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s one, which involved a girl. If anyone wants me to write new scenarios or to rewrite these ones in a gender-neutral form, feel free to let me know.

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

It was a rainy day and clouds were filling the sky, hiding any trace of sunlight. As you walked through the streets of Seoul with your friend, an umbrella in one hand, you listed different possible activities you could spend your free time on. You both had just arrived in Seoul and although you hadn’t seen much yet, you had already fallen in love with South Korea’s capital.

Seokjin had a few days off from promotion, glad to get a short break from his hectic schedule. Even though he loved his job to no end, he sometimes needed some time off to himself, so he could go back to work feeling more inspired and relaxed than ever.

He had recently opened a restaurant with his brother and had decided to go lend a hand to the staff, seeing as someone couldn’t make it to work that day. He knew this was far from the stress-free day he had envisioned for himself, but there were two reasons why he felt compelled to head to the restaurant as soon as he woke up that morning, the first one being that he was one of the directors of said restaurant and that it only seemed natural that he visited and helped around from time to time, the second being that he was a generally very caring being and that refusing the request would simply be choosing to go against his core values.

Both your friend and yourself hadn’t yet thought of an appropriate way to keep yourselves occupied, but all you knew was that you were beginning to get quite hungry, your stomach grumbling every once in a while. You didn’t want to disrupt the course of your friend’s thoughts, but you thought it might be relevant to bring up the idea of stopping by a small restaurant to take a bite. As soon as you voiced your suggestion, her face lit up, and with a mysterious and excited tone, she declared, “Oh, I know a place where we could eat!” You agreed with a shrug, thinking to yourself that any restaurant would do at this point.

You walked in the streets for a good twenty minutes before finally reaching your destination, your friend becoming more and more excited with each step, but categorically refusing to tell you why. You entered the friendly-looking restaurant, analyzing your surroundings. On the outside, it looked as any other Japanese-style restaurant, but the inside was harmoniously decorated, suggesting the owner had great taste in accessorizing and inside decoration. A few plants were randomly displayed throughout the restaurant and the wooden touches gave a warm feeling, in contrast with the overall modern style of the building.

As you sat down to your assigned table and began flipping through the pages of the menu, after having spent a good half-hour waiting in line and complaining to (y/f/n), she called out your name and finally decided to tell you what had been on her mind ever since she came up with the idea of stopping by this particular restaurant: “You know about BTS, right?” “Of course! Who doesn’t?” “Well this place just happens to be owned by Jin and his brother!” You chuckled and commented, “Well now I get why you were so excited all of a sudden and why we had to waste thirty minutes of our precious time waiting in line! It’s certainly what’s causing all the hype surrounding this restaurant... This food better be worth the wait though!”

After having spent an overall total of forty five minutes waiting, the food finally came. You furrowed your brows in confusion as you heard several people gasping in unison when the waiter arrived with the numerous plates of meat, vegetables and other side dishes you would be sharing with your friend. As you looked up, you nearly choked on the water in the glass you were drinking from, quickly identifying your waiter as Kim Seokjin, Jin from BTS himself.

Seokjin had finally decided to step out of the kitchen, unable to stand the heat of the crowded area anymore, and as he saw two physically distinct woman sitting at a table, he specifically requested to attend to that table, intrigued and interested in the unusual situation.

In an attempt to make a nice first impression and as to project a good image of his restaurant, he formally introduced himself, trying to remember all that Namjoon and his English teachers had taught him about the English language over the years: “Hello! Welcome to Ossu Seiromushi! My name is Seokjin and I will be your waiter for today. Is this your first time here?” “Yeah,” the both of you answered at the exact same time. He quickly exclaimed, “Oh this is great! I hope that you will enjoy our food and that you will want to come back here next time!”

As your meal went on, Seokjin periodically came back to check on you, way more often than a usual waiter would, trying to hold some sort of conversation as much as possible given the fact that some fans occasionally interrupted the discussion to interact with their idol, and you had to admit that despite the situation, you enjoyed yourself quite a lot and already planned on visiting again soon, as suggested by Seokjin himself. You also had to admit the food lived up to your expectations, much to friend and your waiter’s delight.

When it was finally time to leave and to carry on with your day, it was with a heavy heart that you left the cozy building filled with delicious smells, knowing you might not be met by your friendly waiter the next time you stopped by in the future.

As you left the restaurant and as he headed back to the kitchen, Seokjin made sure to inform his brother about his lovely encounter and to make sure he kept an eye out for the two charming foreigners next time they came back.

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

After having spent almost a year without seeing his family, Yoongi was finally returning to Daegu, having a brief pause in his busy schedule. As soon as he entered the familiar building that used to be his own house, he was greeted by Geumjae, his older brother, who had come over for the night knowing his younger brother was visiting, his dog, Holly, and the scent of his favourite dish, that his mom had so kindly decided to cook. Memories began flooding his mind and he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about his past life, before he even though of becoming an idol. He was glad to have a break, even if it was only for a few days, so he could remember what being normal feels like, although he knew deep down he would never be seen as a ‘normal’ person anymore, even in his hometown. In fact, he was almost an heroic figure there, seeing as it almost seemed like a miracle that a young man from this small neighbourhood had succeeded in the international music stage.

You had arrived a while ago in Korea, settling down in a small apartment in Seoul. However, your desire of seeking new challenges and to explore the unknown led you to smaller cities, including your current location: Daegu. You had rented a hotel room nearby for a few days and had instantly fallen in love with the more modest buildings of the residential neighbourhoods and the flora of your surroundings, even though this town technically wasn’t half as impressive as South Korea’s biggest city, Seoul.

You had decided to go out and explore the city once the sun began to set, so the streets would be nearly empty and you’d be completely immersed into the peaceful atmosphere of the area. You aimlessly wandered around the town, stopping in a quiet park to sit down on the grass, staring at the sky.

Yoongi had dragged his brother out with him, still feeling the nostalgia from his childhood. He knew the only time he could come out of his house without getting noticed by locals was in the late evening, so he waited until it was pitch black outside to leave the familial residence. As soon as he stepped out, the light breeze surrounded him and the sound of silence rang in his ears, making him feel at home again. He carried a conversation with his older brother while walking on the sidewalk, the only lighting being provided by the small shops on the other side of the street, the lampposts lined along the sidewalk and the thousands of stars in the sky. Soon enough, the both of them reached the park where they had shared so much memories back when they were still children.

You got up from your spot on the fresh grass, beginning to walk again. At this point, you had to admit you were a little lost, after having mindlessly walked through the city for an hour or so. The once warm temperature had decreased, leaving you shivering through the thin fabric of your shirt and your partly exposed legs, and you could barely see where you were going as the sun had completely set.

You were so absorbed in trying to find your way back, that you had completely ignored your surroundings. You suddenly heard some noise directly coming from behind you, yelling in surprise. Your screams were answered by those of two manly voices. You looked up, meeting the eyes of two young men, seeming as surprised as you did. You quickly apologized, embarrassed from causing such a scene, but the boys assured you there was no harm done and you shouldn’t worry about such a thing.

Soon enough, you initiated a conversation with the two men you found out turned out being brothers. The oldest was named Geumjae, while the youngest, who seemed to be relatively close to your age, was named Yoongi, a name that sounded oddly familiar to your ears. Having nothing better to do, you sat back down in the grass, carrying on with your discussion. It was definitely close from midnight, but it didn’t seem to bother any of you. The boys were intrigued about what had brought you to their city in particular, seeing as you weren’t from the area, so you shared your story without neglecting a single detail, as the boys sitting in front of you questioned you from time to time, seemingly interested in your adventures.

After spending so much time outside, you could barely feel your arms anymore, your body not being able to keep you warm for much longer. You kept shivering and Yoongi soon noticed, offering you his hoodie, as the well-mannered man he was. After having made sure he didn’t mind, you gladly accepted his offer, the soft fabric warming up your skin at the very first contact.

Yoongi finally asked you where you were staying and as you answered, his brows knit in confusion. “But that’s at the other end of town... How long have you been walking?” he asked, staring at you. You shrugged, having lost track of time. “You’re really going to walk all the way back there?” he questioned you, seeming perplexed. You finally admitted being absolutely lost. At your confession, Yoongi suggested he and his brother gave you a ride back to your hotel. You felt terribly embarrassed at the thought of having to burden the kind strangers with your own issue, especially at such a late time in the evening, but you were also very tired and definitely couldn’t make it back to the hotel by yourself, so you gladly agreed, endlessly thanking the two brothers for their kindness.

About twenty minutes later, Yoongi dropped you off to the address you had given him. Before you left, he stopped you and stated, “You should keep my phone number as well as my brother’s in your phone. You never know what could happen and since you’re far from home, this might be useful. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I might not always be available, but it might be worth the try anyway in case there’s a problem.”

With one last ‘thank you’, you exchanged your goodbyes and wished each other a great night, hoping you might get the opportunity to meet each other again in the near future.

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

You had moved to Korea a few months ago to begin a student exchange program in university and you were definitely enjoying the new culture, as well as the new people you had met.

You did not expect to meet so many friendly individuals you had so much in common with and you had definitely become a more sociable person over the course of the past few weeks, much to your surprise.

You had met Dawon through mutual friends at a party and you were surprised at how well you both got along almost immediately. She was very warm and welcoming and her English was definitely above average, which made it easy to communicate, though you were also improving in Korean. You knew nearly from the start that she was Hoseok’s sister, but you never truly brought it up, well aware that she must hear about him and be compared to him more than enough as it is and there is no need to make matters worse.

Dawon’s parents were soon hosting a big gathering over at their house and Dawon had decided to invite her closer friends over, as well as her fiancé, since they were already expecting a large number of guests, and you felt incredibly blessed and honoured that she considered you as one of said close friends.

On the night of the house party, Dawon had texted you, claiming that one of the friends she had invited could not make it and that you were free to invite someone else to bring along. However, by the time you noticed her message, you were almost ready to leave and didn’t bother trying to reach anyone else.

Dawon, who was living in her own apartment, came to pick you up a bit early, as she had promised her parents to help set up the decoration and cook the different meals that would be served that night. As you got in the car, you noticed she was on the phone with someone and definitely seemed displeased: “What do you mean you’re not coming? I told you not to plan anything too time-consuming today so you’d be ready for the party! I already told my mom you three were coming! On top of that, Ga Young is sick and won’t be able to make it either...” The voice on the other side of the line replied, “I know, I’m truly sorry but I can’t make the cars in front of me go faster. I’ll do as best as I can, but don’t assume anything. If we can’t make it, have a great night and I’ll talk to you later!” Before Dawon could add anything, the other person you had recognized as Eun Hye hung up.

Dawon turned to you and said, “Sorry about that, I don’t want to ruin the mood or anything, but Eun Hye just called to tell me she, Soo Ah and Ye Rin got stuck in the traffic on their way back from I don’t know where, when I clearly told them not to plan anything today so they could come to the party and I already told my mom they were coming, but they’ll most likely not make it. Now you’re going to be the only friend of mine to come over...” She kept ranting, so you reassured her, “Hey it’s okay. It’s definitely not your fault and I don’t mind staying with you and your fiancé all night. I don’t think your mom will mind having a few less people to cater to tonight either...” “Thanks (y/n), you’re way too kind,” she answered. You smiled back at her and loudly declared, “Now let’s go get your fiancé so we can make it to the party on time!”

You soon left the city and reached the nice suburbs of Gwangju, where you were greeted by Dawon’s parents who excitedly welcomed all of you, glad to see their daughter and her lovely fiancé, and intrigued by the foreigner they both had brought along. You were scared of their reactions to your obvious cultural difference, but you were pleasantly surprised by the fact that they were very kind and interested in knowing about you.

Dawon dragged you inside, where you were met by a very familiar face, which left you speechless as Dawon exclaimed, “What are you doing here? Weren’t you on tour?” He frowned in confusion, replying, “What are you talking about? I told you I was coming back on the 5th.” “Oh I thought I had heard the 15th, my bad,” Dawon stated, chuckling. She then ran to hug her brother tightly. They were definitely a close pair. “Hoseok, this is my friend (y/n). You better be nice to her because all our other friends ditched us for the night and she doesn’t know anyone here but myself and my fiancé. By the way, just saying ... she’s single,” Dawon introduced you to her sibling with a playful tone. She then turned to you, saying, “(y/n) you probably already know my brother, but nonetheless, this is Hoseok.” You bowed to her brother and he did the same, the both of you smiling a bit awkwardly at Dawon’s introductions.

You all went on to assist their parents before the guests began arriving. Throughout the night, the four of you stayed together in a peaceful corner of the backyard, as Dawon stated she “would rather avoid the intrusive aunts and uncles constantly asking her about her private life”, to which Hoseok agreed.

You all discussed your latest stories and experiences, often having a good laugh at each other’s expense. The wine and soju you had all drunk surely helped loosening everyone up and making everything sound funnier than it really should be. Hoseok was very sweet, charismatic and down to earth, and it might’ve been the alcohol speaking, but you couldn’t help thinking to yourself that he definitely was very attractive. You thought it had been easy becoming friends with Dawon, but befriending Hoseok had proven being even easier. There was something about him that was so strongly compelling.

As the party came to an end and Dawon’s fiancé drove you all back to her place, she poked your shoulder, still a bit tipsy, commenting, “You know ... My brother really seemed to like you.” You turned to her and told her to stop saying such nonsense, but she continued: “N—No I’m not even kidding! Haven’t you noticed how he kept staring at you ever since you stepped foot in the house, how he laughed a bit more at your jokes than anyone else’s—“ “That’s because my jokes are funnier than yours and he knows that. And he was staring at me because I’m obviously very different from all of you guys,” you interrupted her. “Shhh — don’t interrupt me. He always filled your wine glass first and he kept leaning towards you. I know my brother, I know he’s not like that with just anyone,” she finished. You rolled your eyes and replied, “Dawon, I think you’re tired, just go to sleep and I’ll wake you up once we get to your apartment.”

She ignored your comment and before you could even react, she reached for your phone and unlocked it, already knowing your password by heart, and typed something in. She gave you your phone back and declared, “Here’s his number, since you seemed to be just as interested as he was.” You did not dare say anything, as you knew Dawon would not take any argument if you tried to prove her wrong. Were you being this obvious? As if she read your mind, she carried on, “You were way too smiley and giggly for your usual self, even when drinking. You should give him a chance, he can be a pretty nice guy sometimes even if he often purposely annoys the hell out of me. Anyway, when’s the last time you’ve been on a date?” “Hey don’t be so mean! I’m waiting for the right person, alright?” you affirmed in a jokingly offended tone. She laughed and claimed, “Well that right person might be my brother, who knows...”

Maybe Dawon was right, maybe you should give her brother a chance after all.

KIM NAMJOON (RM)

It was nearly midnight as you stared at the digital clock resting on your nightstand. After almost having spent a full hour tossing and turning in bed, you decided you had had enough and threw the blankets off your body, sitting up in the process. It had only been two days since you arrived in Seoul and you still hadn’t quite adjusted to the jet lag yet.

You threw on some very casual clothes and headed out the door, thinking some fresh air would do you good and maybe even help you fall asleep. You loved the fact that a lot of shops were open until very late, as you enjoyed the calm of the night. You abandoned the busy streets of Seoul’s most popular districts and soon reached the much more peaceful atmosphere of a mostly residential neighbourhood, taking advantage of the quietness that surrounded you. You had seen more than enough crowded places in the last two days and desperately needed a break from the obnoxiousness of the most famous landmarks.

You eventually spotted a small café on the other side of the road that seemed quite nice. As you entered the building, you were hit by the strong but pleasant smell of freshly ground coffee as well as the emptiness of the place, though that did not surprise you, considering that it was getting late.

You went through the list of possible selections on the wall behind the order counter and eventually settled for something simple as to not excite your brain more than it already was.

You stepped forward, greeted the lady in front of you and placed your order. As you were speaking you could clearly read on the woman’s face that she did not grasp a single word of what you were saying.

Although you had learnt some of the basics of the Korean language prior to your trip and that you were still studying the language to this day, you did not consider your skills good enough to have this kind of discussion, especially not at this time of the day, when your brain could barely function normally. Ever since the beginning of your trip, you had managed to avoid speaking Korean to anyone, as there was always at least one person available who could speak in English. However, as you looked around, you soon realized that it was only you and the barista, and that you had no choice but to find a way to communicate with her.

As you were reaching through your pockets to grab your phone in order to write down what you wanted to say on a translation app, you heard a manly voice behind you, making you jump slightly, “Excuse me, do you need help?” You turned around and had to do a double take. There was no way this man standing behind you could be Kim Namjoon, or was there? You decided to keep quiet and not bring this question up just yet. After having frozen for a few seconds while you processed your thoughts, you finally answered, “Ummm, actually, yes I do. I’d like to order something, but the employee only speaks Korean and I don’t master the language enough to hold this conversation.” He smiled sweetly and nodded, questioning you about your order.

Once you told him everything there was to know, he stepped forward and began discussing with the barista, who also seemed shocked by the man’s presence, ordering for the both of you.

“How much was it?” you immediately asked as he finished ordering and paying. He looked at you and smiled once again, declaring, “It’s free. I’m paying for you. Take it as a gift.” You quickly shook your head, arguing, “Oh no, I can’t accept that! You had to go through the trouble of ordering for both yourself and myself. If anything, I should be the one paying for the both of us.” He chuckled and replied, “This is non-negotiable. No matter what you say, I won’t change my answer. If you really want to make it up to me, why don’t you just keep me company while I drink my coffee? I’d sure love to chat if you want to. Get my mind off things, forget about my stressful day, you know?” “As long as you don’t have bad intentions, I’ll gladly accept this offer,” you playfully said, making him laugh.

You both found a clean table at the back of the room and sat down with your orders, chatting about anything and everything. At one point, you couldn’t help but ask him: “Is there a possibility that I’ve seen you somewhere before?” “There is, actually. My name is Kim Namjoon—“ “From BTS, right?” He nodded, as you continued, “Wow, I just want to say that I really enjoy listening to your music and that all of you guys are amazing artists!” He smiled shyly at your compliment, still not used to receiving such positive feedback from anyone, even after all this time, and then thanked you for your kind words.

As you had both finished your drinks and as you started to feel sleepiness weighing heavy on your shoulders, you decided to call it a night and head back to where you came from. However, right before leaving, Namjoon stopped you, cleared his throat and said, “Hey, um. I could give you my number, you know... just in case you ever need anything, or if you ever wanna chat again.” You nodded, answering, “Yeah, that would be nice...” And so you both exchanged your phone numbers before leaving.

As he watched you exit in front of him, Namjoon had a feeling he would be dialling that number soon enough.

PARK JIMIN (JIMIN)

You had just landed in Seoul no more than two hours ago, accompanied by your close friend. As soon as the luggage pickup and the customs were out of the way, the two of you headed off to retrieve your rented car from the car rental company located right outside of the airport, at a three minutes distance in the shuttle bus.

After nearly waiting for an hour in line, the both of you trading places between standing in line and a nearby seat every ten minutes, you were finally done signing the contract papers and had finally gotten a hold of the car keys that would belong to you for the next month.

A kind employee directed you towards the right car and then helped you pack your luggage into its trunk and backseat as necessary, before leaving the both of you by yourselves with this unfamiliar vehicle. You settled yourself in the driver’s seat, in common agreement with your friend, and began discovering and adjusting to its features.

It had been a long time since you both had last gotten any sleep and the darkness settling outside did not help at all. As you drove out of the car rental garage, you immediately noticed the heavy rain pouring from the evening sky, sighing deeply. Then, you were hit with the sight of the immensely dense trafic of the very populated city of Seoul, groaning in annoyance. Nothing seemed to be in your favour at this instant and you were quickly regretting your decision of taking the wheel in these conditions.

You had slowly gotten adjusted to driving and were slowly making your way towards the hotel where you had booked a room for the next few days in order to finally get some rest.

You reached an extremely crowded intersection and tried to pay attention to all of the surrounding cars as you turned around the street corner. However, you forgot to switch your focus back towards the front of your car quickly enough and suddenly —

BANG

Your car suddenly hit the one right in front of yours, making you and your friend scream in shock at the unexpected impact.

BTS were on their way back to their shared dorms after having performed on a music show. All of them were exhausted as it was getting late and they had been up since the early hours of the morning. As they sat at the back of the van, some fell asleep, some stared at the window and some kept chatting despite their low energy level. A sudden impact startled the passengers of the van as the driver let out a string of curses under his breath. Thankfully, the collision was not strong enough to cause any significant harm to anyone, but they definitely knew that the car would not be left intact.

You sighed, hiding your face behind your hands before brushing your hair back in despair. This was definitely not the most ideal way to start off your vacation and you were surely not planning on spending an important sum of money in car repair for a vehicle you had just gotten not even an hour ago as well as paying for the damage occasioned to the other driver’s car.

As you got out of the car and noticed the consequences, you couldn’t help the “Oh crap” that escaped your mouth. Soon after, the other driver also came out to inspect the damages. After eyeing the back of the van for a good fifteen seconds, he turned around to face you, angrily muttering in Korean, as you stood still, staring at him in confusion. Noticing you did not understand a word of what he was saying, he resolved in going back to the van to request an English speaking person as to discuss the incident with the foreigners who had bumped into their vehicle.

You had no idea what was going on and why the driver left you standing there without any explanation. Soon, you found yourself crying from anticipation, feeling a wave of panic overtake you, which was definitely uncharacteristic of your usually composed self. When all of this would be over, you would surely blame it on the lack of sleep, the stress occasioned by travelling and the jet lag. Your friend walked over to you, resting a soft hand on your shoulder in reassurance and questioning why you were in tears, but all you could manage to do was to gesture at your car and the van. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you did not notice the men coming out of the car.

BTS all sat in the van, curious as to what was taking so long. The driver soon came back and requested the only English speaking manager to come out, as the other individuals involved in the situation did not seem to speak much Korean. Said manager then turned to Namjoon and asked him to join him, as he wasn’t fully confident of his own English skills. Taehyung had fallen asleep on Jimin, who was beginning to feel restless and slightly bored. He decided to follow the two other men out of the car, despite the orders he had received to stay seated.

Namjoon approached you and your friend, firstly asking if you could speak English. The both of you nodded, encouraging Namjoon to continue. Your vision was still blurred from the tears and you were frightened by the situation, so you barely noticed the shocked look on your friend’s face and the three men standing in front of you. The manager began speaking, but didn’t know how to finish his sentence, so Namjoon took over once again: “Would you mind telling us what happened?” Your friend immediately responded, seeing you weren’t exactly in a right state to speak much, explaining the full situation in details to the good-looking man in front of her.

Jimin had always been extremely empathetic, a trait that would sometimes betray him, as he would excuse people that did not deserve forgiveness or as some took advantage of him. However, as he listened to your friend’s story and saw you standing on the side with tears pooling in your eyes, he couldn’t help feeling the need to walk over to you and try to comfort you as best as he could.

You felt someone resting their hand on the side of your arm, so you looked up from the ground, freezing as you finally realized who the men standing in front of you were. Jimin smiled softly, asking if you were feeling okay. As you shook your head and once again motioned at the two vehicles, he spoke up again: “Don’t worry about it too much, it happens to everyone... My friend, Jeongguk, could definitely tell you something about it.” He chuckled, then carried on, “Seriously though, we can definitely afford the repairs that need to be done to the two cars. Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of that so you can peacefully enjoy your vacation.” You quickly shook your head, embarrassed at the thought of them paying for your own mistake, but Jimin was having none of it and dragged you back to where the others were standing, suggesting his idea to the two other men.

The manager refused, saying he was being too kind, as you were still the one who had caused the accident. Jimin did not give up and quickly thought of a seemingly fairer deal: “What about we pay for our own car and they pay for theirs? I can handle the cost for the van without a doubt.” The manager still felt sorry for you, and easily agreed to the offer.

You gratefully thanked Namjoon, Jimin and their manager, as Jimin walked back to you. “Please open your phone and give it to me.” You did as told, not knowing what to expect. Jimin seemed to be writing something down, and as he gave it back to you, you realized it was a phone number. He glanced at your slightly confused face and claimed, “Here. In case you ever need anything, you can call me, alright?” You thanked him and you both exchanged one last smile before parting ways.

As you sat back in your car, your friend turned to you and asked, “What was THAT?!” To which you replied, “You sure we’re not asleep and dreaming?” It came out as a joke, but you truly felt as though you were in some kind of dream or unconscious state since the situation felt so unreal.

You finally drove to your initial destination, the hotel, and right before falling asleep, you stared at your phone screen, a fond smile on your face.

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

BTS had just started filming a long awaited new season of Bon Voyage. In the past few days, they had learnt how to cook traditional foods, competed in an obstacle race against one another and flew over the area in an helicopter, trying to spot important features that were listed in a document that was handed out to them.

Today, they were yet again racing against each other, but this race was much different than the one they had previously done. They were being given a map of the city they were currently in and had to orient themselves without the help of electronic devices in order to get to a specific landmark before the others did, requesting help from locals if needed. The boys all started at an equal distance from the target, but they were all separated as to avoid some members following or helping out others, which would be considered as cheating.

Taehyung looked at the map in his hands, immediately drawing over what seemed to be the quickest path to take to reach the final goal from his starting point, then searching for the right street to head on. After walking for nearly ten minutes, Taehyung noticed that the road in front of him seemed to be going uphill on a long distance. He decided he would find a new itinerary, as the one he was currently on would significantly slow him down because of its increased difficulty.

He walked for another twenty minutes, before he stopped to take a small break. He stared at the street signs, then back at his map with eyebrows knitted in confusion. It seemed he had been going the wrong way all along, despite him making sure to look out for the different streets and avenues that would lead him to the landmark. With a deep sigh, he decided he would not waste time trying to find his way back by himself and would instead resolve in asking a local for guidance.

You were getting out of a small shop, a water bottle and your phone in hand. You had planned on meeting a friend in a park at the other side of town and thought it would do you good to walk the whole distance instead of going by car or public transportation, a choice that you were deeply regretting as you felt overly thirsty and tired not even halfway towards the destination. You had forgotten to bring something to drink, so you resigned in buying a water bottle and then kept heading towards your destination.

Taehyung noticed you walking out of the store and thought that you looked nice. He walked over to you, hoping you could help direct him.

You felt someone gently tapping your shoulder, then an unknown voice said, “Excuse me, do you live around here?” Confused, you turned around and nodded at the stranger’s question. As your eyes met his, they widened in surprise. You thought you knew who these eyes belonged to, yet there was no way Kim Taehyung could be standing in front of you right this instant, or so you thought.

He smiled shyly, then continued, “Sorry to bother you... My friends and I are not from around here and we’re competing in some kind of race. I’ll spare you the details, but now I’m — kinda — lost. Could you maybe direct me the right way?” You kept your excitement to yourself, not wanting to bother him while he was on some kind of vacation, and simply asked where he was heading, so you could help him out.

As he showed you his map with a big red dot on the target location, you realized it was relatively close to where you were meeting your friend. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m heading approximately the same way, so if you want, I could walk with you and accompany you until you reach your goal, then head off to my own destination,” you suggested. You knew this was not exactly the most prudent decision, as you barely knew the person standing in front of you, at least, not personally, and he might as well have been a psychopath that was planning on abducting you, but there was something about his charming face and genuine smile that radiated trustworthiness, reliability and kindness and you couldn’t help trusting and assisting him. Too bad if you end up getting killed, at least you’ll have spent your last minutes with a handsome man. Besides, he had a cameraman with him, so what could truly go wrong?

Taehyung gladly agreed to your offer, before stating, “Well, since we’re going to spend the next minutes together, might as well introduce ourselves properly. I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you!” His introduction sounded so simple that if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve never guessed he was part of the biggest boy group in the world. “Nice to meet you too Taehyung, I’m (y/n),” you replied with a smile, handing out your hand for him to shake.

You didn’t waste any more time and started walking towards Taehyung’s destination. However, the man did not seem to be in such a hurry as he was before. He was fascinated by everything your city had to offer, even in the smallest details, and he often stopped and pulled out his expensive camera to snap a picture of something he thought was worthy of being captured. You had to admit he really had an eye for that and seemed to take some amazing pictures that you could only hope to ever achieve. He was very interested in anything you had to tell him about your city’s history, attractions and current events, as well as stuff about yourself and your life. He was very attentive, yet revealed very little about himself. Maybe it was the fact that he was constantly in the public eye that made him that way, so you did not insist on asking him more personal questions.

As you reached Taehyung’s end goal, you both figured he was clearly not going to win the race, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He wasn’t much of a competitive person. Before you left and he went to join his other members, he cut out a small piece of the map and took his pen out, scribbling something on the paper and handing it to you. It seemed to be his phone number.

“Thank you so much for your time and help, I promise I’ll repay you for that. Just think of anything you’d like and let me know. Have a nice rest of your day and hopefully we’ll speak again soon,” he claimed, walking away before you could argue that it was not necessary of him to repay you for anything.

You went on to meet your friend and had to explain your late arrival as they gave you a skeptic look, but believed you anyway in the end. As you got back home that night, you plugged Taehyung’s number in your phone, a wine glass in your hand. As you were about to press send on your text message, you thought to yourself that it was definitely worth giving it a try and that the worst that could happen was that you’d be left with a funny story to tell.

JEON JEONGGUK (JUNGKOOK)

You had recently gotten a job at a relatively famous club in your city through a friend who already worked there. You weren’t exactly the type one would imagine working in a club, but you were gradually getting used to the loud music, the drunk people stumbling around and the flirty individuals, who’ve had one too many drinks and who seem to forget about personal space. Not that you were complaining about it, but working a few nights in a row could be quite exhausting and you definitely enjoyed your days off even more than you used to.

It was Friday night, which was already a busy night to begin with. However, at some point, you could definitely feel the crowd getting bigger than you had expected and the atmosphere being filled with an unusual level of excitement, which had you wondering what could be happening that had gotten people so thrilled.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence that celebrities would come and visit the club, but there had never been so much enthusiasm linked to it. Although you were curious as to what was happening, you couldn’t leave your spot behind the bar unoccupied, so you kept your curiosity to yourself and kept doing what you were supposed to do and what you had been doing all night: serving drinks.

It had been about an hour since the crowd’s intensity had reached a new high when two young men came to sit on the bar stools right in front of you. As you turned to face them, you immediately recognized Jimin and Jungkook from BTS, and god were they even more gorgeous in real life than you could ever have imagined! You thought to yourself that this must be the reason why clients had been so excited all night. Feeling slightly intimidated by their presence, you minded your own business, waiting for one of them to speak to you first.

After a few awkward seconds that seemed to last for hours, Jungkook turned to you, grinned and said, “E–Excuse me miss! Y–You really have n–nice hair!” He then turned to face Jimin, who was giggling uncontrollably at his friend’s behaviour. They were both very clearly drunk. You nodded and smiled, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’, hoping the dark lighting would cover the fact that you were extremely flustered at his words. Drunk or not, Jeon Jungkook had just complimented you.

Turning back towards you, Jungkook carried on, “Can I pleaseee have um... maekju?” “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Jimin quickly corrected his friend: “Beer. He wanted to say beer. I want one too please.” You nodded and left to go and get the beverages, confirming that this was what they wanted as you came back.

Before giving them their orders, you jokingly claimed, “Just because you complimented me, doesn’t mean that you’ll have this drink for free!” Jungkook exaggeratedly gasped in a silly manner and replied, “Oh noooo! Why?” You rolled your eyes, although your smile clearly gave away your amusement. “Because that’s not how it works, sir.” “You can call me J–Jungkook and... and this is my friend Jimin! And Jinnie-hyung, Namjoonie-hyung, Hoseokie-hyung, Yoongi-hyung and Tae are somewhere else. It’s Yoongi-hyung’s fault if I’m like that now! He gave me all these drinks Ma’am!” You almost felt as if you were talking to a child and you couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of it. “What’s your name, Miss?” “(y/n).” “Lovely (y/n),” Jungkook drunkenly mumbled.

It seemed as though the two friends were not there to party, since they spent half an hour discussing with you and drinking a few beers. Jungkook suddenly stopped you mid-sentence, asking, “M–Miss! I want your uh... phone number!” As soon as he finished speaking, he reached for his phone, handing it to you. “You need to put in your password so I can have access to it,” you stated. He quickly grabbed his phone back, unlocked it, and shoved it back in your face. You plugged your number in and gave the phone back to him, as he asked for your phone so he could give you his own number. He then insisted on giving it a try, to verify that all was working well.

After a while, you could see Jungkook dozing off on the counter in front of you, his excitement slowly being replaced by sleepiness. Jimin asked you if you could keep an eye on his friend, so he could go and gather his other friends, to which you gladly agreed. He soon came back with the other members of BTS who introduced themselves to you, all chuckling at Jungkook’s sleeping form on the counter.

You delicately patted his head to wake him up, so he could join his friends. He smiled up at you, then awkwardly hid his face back into his hands once he became aware of his surroundings and noticed his band mates staring at him.

When the time came for BTS to leave the club, Jungkook decided to pay for all of his friends, giving you definitely much more money than needed, adding, “Extra tip for an extra-nice barmaid!”

The next morning as you woke up, you tried texting Jungkook:

“Hey! It’s (y/n), the barmaid from yesterday night, in case you don’t remember. You seemed pretty drunk... How are you feeling this morning?”

You laughed at the short answer you received from his end:

“Sick :(“

You were glad he at least remembered you despite the drunken state in which he had met you. This seemed like the beginning of a pleasant and exciting friendship, and you couldn’t wait to see where this would lead you.

Author’s Note: Hi! I used to be excusemiihatesnakeu, but I recently changed my username. I haven’t written on this blog for a long while, despite having promised to come back with some content soon after having posted my first reaction. Truth is, not only have I been extremely busy with school, work, relationships, social life, etc. but it also takes me forever to write anything because I keep doubting my writing and lacking inspiration, which deeply discourages me of even trying to write anything to begin with. Despite still being extremely busy, I will challenge myself to write more, as it is somehow calming and freeing for me, and I will try my best to post more content in the near future, but please be patient with me, I swear I’m trying my best! By the way, sorry about the excessively long scenarios (and the uneven, varying length of those scenarios between the different members), I seriously cannot stop myself from writing once I begin. I’ve literally spent hours on this and I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind (lmao)! If you have any thoughts or (constructive) criticism that you would like to share, please do so in the comments or in my ask box (in which you can also request content). Thanks for reading my work and I hope you’ve enjoyed doing so! If you’ve read up to here, you clearly deserve an award! :)

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alovesongshewrote · 4 years ago

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Almost A Thousand Years - Wizard Underground | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years. You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years. And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain. But somewhere in that time, things changed. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 7,579

Warnings: Canonical Character Death!! (and torture)

A/N: buckle up kiddos, it’s about to get angsty. the gif does not match the energy at all, but it’s from the episode so, yeeeeet

Taglist: @furblrwurblr @rainningdoom @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458 @sitherin-mxschief @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip @dolphincommander @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @justarandomhoman @tales-of-hisirdoux @blixeon @yagirlcheesely

When the green cleared, the sky looked more or less the same. Dark, stars, clouds. It was clear you were home though, both from Douxie saying so and the immediate urge you had to murder him. Well, you couldn’t say you weren’t expecting it, but it still sucked. The drive to end Douxie’s life was always a real mood killer whether or not you were expecting it.

“Welcome back to the twenty-first century!”

“Ah! Sweet pollution! How I missed you!” Steve choked as he inhaled a lungful of said filthy air. Normally, that wouldn’t be a great thing, but you were sort of thankful for it this time. It distracted Douxie from the whimper that left your lips, from the way you sank to the ground, clinging to the railings, struggling against yourself. This was Not Fun.

Steve, however, was still having a wonderful time, “Heh! And reception!! Hot dang! So many messages.”

From the high-pitched chimes that rang out through the air, you could only guess that Steve was looking at his phone. You couldn’t really see at the moment due to the sudden and blinding pain in your stomach. That was new! You weren’t really sure why that was happening, or how Douxie didn’t feel it, but it probably had to do with the Arcane Order and your lack of homicide!

Across the ship, Jim let out a scream, the shard in his chest glowing red and sinking deeper. Fucking lovely. That was two of you in shard related pain. What was next, you losing control and killing not only Douxie but everyone on this damn ship? Another wave of pain rolled through you, which brought an end to your sarcastic thinking. At this rate, that outcome looked less and less insane by the minute. You bit your lip in a silent prayer that nothing else would go wrong. Then Camelot fell out of the sky.

“Oh, shit.”

Douxie’s words shocked you enough for you to open your eyes and look at him.

“D-Douxie, you-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m sorry, hang on tight, love!”

You did as instructed as your wizard flew the ship towards the falling castle, pulling up right beside it at what appeared to be the perfect time.

“Need a lift?”

“Douxie!” you could hear Toby’s voice, but you couldn’t see him. The momentary release granted to you by shock had worn off, and now all you had left was the pain. You shut your eyes and kept them closed, focusing on not passing out, or committing murder, or passing away. Actually, that last one might not have been so bad. At least it would end your suffering and the threat you were to others. That wasn’t going to happen though.

You could hear Archie now, the familiar’s voice was… well, familiar, and it was comforting to you, in an odd way, “But you’re trapped in the past!”

“Not anymore!”

“Took you long enough. We have much to talk about. Like- them?” you didn’t have to see Merlin to know he was talking about you, and in your current state, you were indeed worthy of conversation. You were curled into a ball, shoved against the rails of the ship and trying your damnedest not to cry. You felt like shit, you probably looked like shit, and Merlin didn't even like you in the first place, so yeah, you were something worth mentioning.

“D-don’t worry,” you choked out, “I’m fine. Focus- on Jim.”

Douxie did not want to focus on Jim. He didn’t want to focus on anything except for you at that exact moment. What was happening to you? Why was the love of his life doubled over and in obvious pain when he barely felt a thing? More than anything Douxie wanted to help you. He wanted to make the pain stop, and he wanted to hold you close and make sure you were okay, but Jim, unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the pov, had perfect dramatic timing.

The poor boy let out a groan, the shard glowing red once again, and causing everyone more concern. You knew there was no way in hell he could have heard what you said, and the groan was probably because Aarrrgh, Toby and Blinky had all boarded the ship which made it move a bit, but you liked to think he was on your side.

You could hear Toby scream something that sounded like a question, and you knew that Merlin replied, but there was only one voice that mattered to you. He said your name, sounding scared and anxious. It broke your heart, but you said nothing. You didn’t want him to notice you any more than he already had, because if he did, he would try to help, and that meant getting close to you, and if he did that he’d probably receive a broken neck for his troubles. Nobody wanted that. Least of all you.

“I-I’m getting everyone home safe, as promised.”

Merlin said something else, and you felt another shift as something, or rather, someone, landed on the ship. A small squeak left you, you couldn’t help it. Everything just hurt so bad, and you honestly didn’t know how Douxie wasn’t feeling it. You were thankful for that, of course, you’d never wish for him to be in pain, ever, but this was just so intense! You could barely function, you just had to keep breathing, hoping that the next inhale would somehow end the pain.

Another series of squeaks and gasps escaped you as Douxie maneuvered the ship through a field of castle-shaped debris. In any other situation, you’d have complimented him, but at that moment, you were trying to avoid causing anyone any bodily harm. It was difficult while you were flying, but as soon as you landed, things got wayyyy harder.

Douxie approached you cautiously, not wanting to hurt you and not wanting to trigger anything that might make you hurt him. The rest of the squad had jumped off the ship, so for it was just you and your wizard. For all intents and purposes, you were alone with the person you’d been sent to kill. There was nothing stopping you. His hands were raised in surrender for god’s sake. Why was he making this so difficult?

“Douxie, you need to go.”

“I- no, I’m not leaving you, we have to go, we have to get somewhere safe-”

“No, you need to- just get off the ship, I’ll join you in a second.”

That was a total lie, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t seem to register it, either. He just looked at you sadly before taking a step back.

“We’ll fix this. I promise you, we’ll fix this. I’m not going to let anything else hurt you.”

You tried to laugh, but the attempt was pathetic, “I know.”

And then he was gone. You could hear Jim screaming somewhere in the night. The sound drowned everything out, submerging you in a sea of guilt. That kid had suffered through so much, and now this. You knew his pain. He didn’t deserve this, and there was nothing you could do to save him.

Douxie was going through the same motions. You were in pain, you didn’t deserve it, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not yet, anyway. He was bound and determined to help you, to end the nightmare you were living in. And it was indeed, your nightmare. He couldn’t feel a thing, even after centuries of sharing your pain. Even now, he could still feel the ache of your cracked ribs, but there was nothing beyond that. He didn’t know what was happening to you, or why, but he knew it terrified him. If this, whatever it was, took you from him, he didn’t know what he would do. He couldn’t stand to lose you. Not after all of this. Even as he spoke with Merlin, his thoughts never left you. The image of you curled around yourself, face contorted with pain, lips bleeding as you bit them to stay silent, would haunt him for the rest of his days.

You, however, were haunted by something else.

“Nari, come back to us and finish the work you have begun!”

“You misunderstand our grand vision.”

Oh, fuck.

You pulled yourself up, desperately clinging to the rail, pausing every time your vision went white. You weren’t sure yet whether you were going to run away or fight, but the first thing you needed to do was hide. If you chose to run, they couldn’t see you. If they did, they would chase you, capture you, and torture you again. If you chose to fight, you wanted the element of surprise. So, yeah. Hiding was a good plan.

You threw yourself over the edge of the ship. It was not graceful in the slightest, but no one saw, so it worked out well enough. Your plan was going according to plan, even if everything hurt and you longed for the sweet release of death. You let yourself lean on the ship for a second, closing your eyes against the pain. The cold metal stung where it met your skin. It sucked. Everything sucked. This whole Order ordeal sucked. You wanted to go home. But where even was home? Right, it was the black-haired wizard boy with the shitty dye job who you’d loved for years.

A green light flashed on the other side of the ship, and you knew you had to make a choice. Either run, and keep running, the same thing you’d been doing since you escaped your life as a spy, or stay and fight. Run or go back to the start of your story and change the meaning. To fight, not for Gunmar and an eternal night, but to protect the people you loved, the town you lived in, and the punk wizard who owned your heart. Yeah, no. That choice was already made for you. It had been for almost a thousand years.

Without a sound, you dragged yourself around the ship and waited for the right moment. It came faster than you’d expected, but that wasn’t a huge deal. You snuck behind the green Knight, and when he demanded surrender, you struck him with your sword. He stumbled forward for a second, and that was it. The only solid hit you made in that fight. Ah, the element of surprise, everyone’s favourite element.

You ducked as the Knight's sword sliced at your throat. Your movements were delayed by a few seconds, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. You just had to keep going.

Your sword clashed with his, once, twice, a third time, and on that third, you were sent flying back. You scrambled to your feet just in time for another attack, this one accompanied by words. Whether it was a monologue or a taunt you couldn’t tell. Your brain was focused on not dying. You heard him call you a traitor, and a servant before he declared that your soul was his. You didn’t have a smart response for that, so you just kept fighting.

Up, down, side, dodge, sweep the leg, parry, twist left, over and over again. You were almost on autopilot, one hand still clutching your busted ribs, the other doing its best to keep you alive. There was no coherent thought, just adrenaline and movement. Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select start. Jeep, dodge, ram him with your face, or whatever the hell else kept you alive. There was nothing left but basic instinct and training that you’d never forgotten. This was your fight. And you weren’t actually that bad for someone who was half-dead. At least, you weren’t until the Green Knight knocked the sword from your hand and grabbed you by the throat.

Everything went numb. Your vision was lighter as if a filter covered the world making everything bright and hard to look at. You heard everything and nothing at the same time. It was all… dull. Like you were hearing the battle from somewhere far away. Douxie screamed something that you couldn’t make out, there was a muffled guitar riff, another scream, someone calling you a traitor, and- wait. What in the fresh hell was that? Did someone just fucking roar?

You were dropped, and you rolled out of the way just in time to see a troll you’d never met charge at the Knight. You sat still for a minute, struck dumb by this turn of events. Then you felt yourself freeze, ice creeping into your veins as you realized what was going on. You couldn’t hear Jim screaming anymore. You looked back to the ship. He wasn’t there. That left one, probably unreasonable explanation. The new troll was Jim. Fuck.

Pulling yourself to your knees, you took another look at your friends, gathered by the ship. It looked, for a moment, like Douxie or Claire would run into the fight. You couldn’t let that happen. So, you did the one thing you could think of, the one thing that would keep them out of this. You stabbed yourself in the leg. It wasn’t a big stab, just a little one. Just enough to convince Douxie that you’d lost control and were now out for his blood. It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. You could see your wizard fall to one knee. His eyes met yours, and for one second, everything was still. He was there, and you were here, and you were both alive, but on opposite sides of this battle. That’s how it had always been. Maybe that’s how it was always supposed to be. You were back at the start again. A scared kid on the wrong side, clinging to what little light you had left. There were tears in your eyes. You don’t know how they got there. Maybe it was the stab wound, but you didn’t really believe that. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head. He saw you. He stood. And then they were gone.

You smiled, for a second, despite the tears streaming down your face. They were safe, for now. They had a chance. Your momentary peace didn’t last long. Holding his sword above him, the Knight took control of Jim, the red light that ran through his veins turned green, leaving the troll on his hands and knees. At the same time, the pain in your stomach subsided, allowing you to stand, finally. You readied your own blade, but before anything could be accomplished, the Knight turned to you. For once, you could hear what he was saying.

“Attack and the beast dies.”

There was no other choice. You couldn’t let anything bad happen to Jim. You lowered your weapon just as Bellroc jumped from the castle and landed in front of you.

“Take them with us,” you flinched back at their voice. That sound only brought back memories that you would rather forget. Fear took you, and you allowed the Green Knight to grab your shoulder and guide you back to the castle. This was not going to be fun.

Speaking of things that weren’t fun, Douxie was having the worst possible time right now. After hiding in an alley, making his way to Hex Tech, and dealing with a less than pleased Zoe (which involved explaining that he had found you, found out exactly why you left, and lost you again,) he was more than a little bit tired, which was fair. To make matters worse, his leg stopped hurting somewhere between the field and the alleyway. You were on the Order’s ship. They had you, and god knows what they could do to you without him knowing. Quite honestly, Douxie was beyond terrified at this point. He wasn’t really sure what he was. In any other circumstance, he may have been paralyzed by pure fear and anxiety, but someone had to keep Claire from murdering Merlin, so paralysis was a no go. He was sure he’d have time for a nice mental breakdown later, after you were safe. For now, he would focus on keeping the peace, making sure nothing got broken, and forming a plan to get you and Jim home.

You were playing the same game with a different set of pieces. You stayed silent and obedient, making yourself as small as possible to avoid taking up space and pissing off your captors. No matter how panicked you were, you maintained an aura of calm for both your sake and Jim’s. You couldn’t let your emotions slip. Not here, not now. Not that any of your efforts were doing much good. You still flinched with every quick movement, bit your lip whenever someone got too loud. This was not a good situation, and you were straight-up not having a good time. It only got worse with the resurrection of Morgana. It was all too loud, too bright, too- too familiar. This was too close to what happened the last time you were here, and you were terrified.

Your hands were cold. You tried to focus on that, but for the life of you, you couldn't stop thinking about every bad thing that happened to you within these walls. Someone was yelling, someone else screaming, and you couldn’t tell whether it was real, or if it was a memory. You didn’t even care that the Green Knight was the old king. You just wanted to leave, but for now, against all odds, you had to stay calm. It was not working. At all. Especially when the room turned on you.

“And as for you, treasonous witch,” y’know, that wasn’t a very original take coming from a primordial ice god. You were honestly a little disappointed. In terms of torture, Skrael had always been a bit more creative. Perhaps, subconsciously, you’d expected that to carry over. It didn’t. In any other situation, you would’ve told him to get some new material, but Bellroc swiftly prevented that by throwing you into the center of the room. You hit the ground hard. Hard enough to blur your vision and clear your mind, but there was no time to process the pain.

“You have failed us,” the flaming demigod’s voice darted from high tones to low ones, sending a chill down your spine. If Bellroc was angry enough to lose control of their voice, you were beyond screwed.

Both demigods drew nearer to you, looming over your damaged figure, “You will pay for this.”

You winced, preparing for the burn of ice or fire on your skin, but no impact came. Instead, you felt a harsh tug on your hair as Bellroc forced you to face them. Both demigods looked way too calm, though you could feel their anger, a flaming riot beneath their skin despite their icy exteriors. Their rage alone was almost enough to hurt, but what came next was worse.

“You are much too fond of that wizard apprentice… we will make sure he suffers for all of your mistakes.”

You felt yourself shaking as Skrael rasped out the threat, but you didn’t have much more time to react before you were thrown into a wall. That was where their fun began.

Douxie was having a significantly better time than you, but that didn’t mean he was enjoying himself. Over the sounds of Blinky cursing autocorrect, Merlin and Claire were having a battle of ideologies right in front of my metaphorical salad. The audacity. This, of course, was not easy on your wizard. His friend wanted to find a way to save her boyfriend. His mentor wanted to move forward and run away. Douxie also wanted to save Jim and you, but Merlin made a good argument about the fate of the universe and how if they didn’t leave now everyone would die. That argument, however, was not enough to erase the memory of your face from his mind. He still saw that image, you, distorted with pain and struggle every time he closed his eyes. The fighting only made things worse; especially when Merlin decided to put that face on screens around the room, side by side with Jim’s new troll form. I don’t know why he thought that was a good idea, but it was Not helping Douxie.

“James Lake and (Y/N) (L/N) are corrupted, gone! They cannot be brought back!”

“Or you’re just too stubborn to try!”

“Please, you both have solid points!” he could hear the stress and fear in his own voice. Good. Maybe it would make the universe feel bad for him and it would just… throw you through a window at him or something. He didn’t know or care at that point. He was too tired for this and too awake for it at the same time. His eyes hurt. His jaw hurt. Everything hurt except his leg which was just another reminder of how much he missed you. God, he was having an awful day, and it was going to get worse.

“I will not jeopardize the mortal plane for one troll and one wayward witch!”

“It’s what they’d do for us!”

“And look where that got them!” This outburst from his former Master frustrated Douxie enough to make him slam his head into the nearest flat surface and keep it there.

“What!?” Claire exclaimed, the screens around the room went black, your face and Jim’s hidden from view. It would’ve been a relief if Douxie had looked up to see it. “Come on, back me up here. Anybody? Archie? Douxie?”

He heard the question in her voice. Will you stand up for your significant other, Casperan? Or will you fail them again? He let out a strangled groan to answer the question.

Archie’s answer was more dignified, “Don’t look at me, cats don’t have the right to vote. Neither do dragons. Yet.”

The familiar’s body glowed gold for a minute as he changed forms. It was only a second of shining light, but it was enough to give Douxie an idea.

“Wait a tick. I know a way we can rescue Jim and (Y/N) without risking the world!”

“Is that so?”

“How?”

“If it works, it will be quite the little magic trick.”

And it would indeed be quite the little magic trick. Risking life and limb to save you and Jim would be one hell of a feat, but if there was anyone who could pull it off, it was this specific team. At least, that’s what Douxie told himself. He had to. He had to pretend there was hope and focus on the plan. If he didn’t, his thoughts drifted to you, to what the Order could be doing to you, and that persistent question in his mind, the one that asked if you were alive at all. You had to be. You had to. There wasn’t another option, though Douxie found, as he boarded the small ship, that fear was building in his chest. A sense of dread surrounding what exactly they would find, lying still on the floor of the Order’s base.

Douxie was shaken from the hell in his head when Merlin spoke, something about being concerned with the plan and heading into a lion’s den. Your wizard was growing tired of this.

“You gave me a staff because you trusted me, right? So, trust me.”

“Very well. I stand by your decision… wizard.”

The comment was shrugged off by its intended audience, “Everyone knows what they need to do. If we pull this off, we’ll get our friends back.”

In his head, Douxie begged whatever godly forces were out there (that were Not Arcane Order aligned) that they would get their friends back in once piece, safe and sound; though as the lights of the Order’s ship shone in his face, blinding him, he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Oh well.

“Arcane Order!” the ship shifted to face him, a sign that someone was listening, “We’re here to barter!”

The skull moved down through the air, clicking and groaning as it’s jaw dropped to form an entrance, or at least something close to one. Douxie cast a glance back to his comrades, “And that means, ‘Come in.’”

“Wait, we’re flying into the bitey devil castle?” Steve asked incredulously, pointing at said bitey devil castle. Douxie nodded and flew them into the bitey devil castle. Bitey devil castle. I want one.

Steve, however, would not agree with that sentiment. Fear crossed over the teen’s face as their ship drew nearer to the larger craft. He shook so much while exiting the boat that he just fell over. Douxie, Merlin and Not-Nari failed to notice or maybe failed to care. Either way, Steve had an opinion on all of this. He did not like it, “Uh, this is supes dumb. Like, even I know it’s dumb and we’re still gonna go inside?”

If you had been in your right mind and entering the skull with them, you would have agreed, 100%. Unfortunately, you were not that. Instead, you were deeper inside the horror-show palace, writhing with pain and unable to think clearly. That sucked for you, but honestly, you were starting to get used to it.

Douxie, however, was not used to nor prepared for the sudden pain that hit him like a wall of bricks as soon as he entered the Order’s den. It started off intense, matching the pain you felt exactly, but it faded fast until it was a dull throb in the back of his mind. They’d hurt you. They’d hurt and maybe killed you because you didn’t kill him fast enough. That thought, that fact was going to haunt him for the rest of his days. He could already feel his breath coming faster, his chest rising and falling rapidly and leading him to disaster if he didn’t control it. To avoid having a panic attack, your wizard took in his surroundings.

The lair was, as many good evil lairs are, made of stone and lit light blue with moonlight. It was quiet, empty, so much so that Douxie had to mention the overwhelming silence just to hear something. Merlin did not respond. At least, not to him.

“Good evening, Skrael.”

The ice demigod appeared in a twister of ice and sleet. If he was anything other than an ice demigod, it would have been very uncomfortable, but alas, Skrael’s gotta Skrael, and that included monologuing in his chilling and creepy voice, “Surrendering already? I was hoping for a little more cat and mouse.”

Douxie was suddenly very uncomfortable knowing that this was the company you were trapped with during your ten-year absence. That this was all you’d heard for a decade. Douxie wondered, for a moment, against his will, what exactly they’d said to you in the past ten years. What horrors had you heard?

The wondering only got worse when Bellroc decided to jump in with a threat of their own. It was a classic, “You will be rewarded with a quick and painful death,” but Bellroc’s intimidating and ever-changing voice added a new level to the threat, something that most other villains lack. The Green Knight didn’t even make a threat, he just growled like a basic bitch.

Merlin didn’t care though. Basic bitches or otherwise, he got straight to business, “A fight here will end poorly for all of us. We seek a truce,” the old wizard turned to his apprentice and nodded. It was time for someone who did care about basic bitches.

“Good evening, doers of evil and ancient terrors. We have a proposal: a trade. One of yours for one of ours,” Douxie moved forwards and back again, his lanky-ass limbs swishing through the air, trying to illustrate his point. It was super effective.

“Our missing third in exchange for your troll mongrel?”

“You would give up your only advantage? What does this gain you?” both Bellroc and Skrael sounded confused, the perfect conditions for a lengthy explanation that would hopefully buy Claire all the time she needed to get Jim and you out safely.

Douxie took a short breath, “Yes, well, an excellent question, one that requires a long, thoughtful, time-consuming answer. Come on, Claire.”

Somewhere above your friends, your pain began to subside. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to stand and make your way over to Jim. You knew that it wasn’t really your boy, and you knew that he wouldn’t respond, but you made an attempt to speak with him anyway. You owed him that much.

“Hey there, kid.”

He grunted and moved away from you, retreating into the darkness, “Woah, woah, woah, easy buddy, just- try and stay in one spot for me-” your voice caught in your throat as another wave of agony rolled through you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the face of your old friend almost looked concerned.

You brought yourself back up, and a little gasp escaped you as the pain subsided. You were okay for the moment, but you didn’t know how long that would last. It was time to talk as fast as you could.

“Jim, honey, I need you to listen to me. I know how hard this is. I know what it’s like, trust me. But we- we have to fight this. You have a life to live, kiddo. You need to get back to Claire, to Toby and the rest of them, and I-” you cut yourself off before you could say you needed to get home, to get to Douxie. As much as you loved Jim, he was under the Order’s control. They’d already threatened your wizard’s life, you didn’t need them knowing exactly how much he meant to you. However, magic be damned, you had to get through to the boy inside this monstrous shell, “I know it’s hard, Jim, but I’m fighting this with you. Neither of us are alone.”

He growled at you but didn’t respond outside of that. It was time to be persistent.

“I know. But I need you to come back. I need-” once again, you couldn’t say what you were thinking. You couldn’t tell him that you needed proof, something to believe in that could maybe restore the last of your faith. You needed to know that there was hope, that you could come back from this. Jim Lake was one of the bravest and strongest kids you knew. He’d been through so much, and in comparison to your age, he was just a baby. If anyone could fight this, it would be him, and if he couldn’t, you weren’t sure if you could. You drew a shaky breath before you continued, “I need you to come back, for Claire, Toby, your mom, for yourself. You deserve better than this.”

He growled again, burrowing deeper into his hiding place. You bit your lip, thinking of what to say next, but you were interrupted. Someone was coming. Now you needed to hide.

It wasn’t a member of the Order as you’d suspected. Instead, Claire portaled into the room. You had no idea how she got in here, but seeing her was better than seeing the alternative. You stayed hidden while she spoke to Jim, almost feeling like you were intruding. At least he actually talked to her. You watched, hidden in shadows while she tried to coax him into leaving with her. You stayed silent, which became a little more difficult when a sharp pain shot up your side. You bit your lip to avoid crying out, but nothing could prevent the gasp that escaped you when you realized exactly where that pain had come from. If it wasn’t yours, then that meant it was Douxie’s. Douxie was somewhere in the castle.

That thought drove a deep, unyielding fear straight into your heart. You had to get to him, to protect him from the Order, curses and shards be damned. You jumped from your hiding place, causing the briefest of distractions to Claire, Jim, and Morgana, who had joined the fray while you weren’t watching. You paid them no mind, though. Claire could portal out of here, Morgana could more than take care of herself, and Jim was Bellroc and Skrael’s new favourite weapon. They would be okay. But you? If the sudden sharp pain in your back meant anything, you had somewhere else to be.

The first thing you saw was Jim, clinging to the ceiling above your wizard, ready to pounce. You would have attacked him if your vision hadn’t gone green. At first, you thought it was Merlin, trying in vain to protect Douxie, but then you realized exactly what was happening to you. And that was much worse.

Here, in close quarters with both the Green Knight and Douxie, the drive to kill your love had increased exponentially. Your mind clouded with bloodlust, your hands seized your sword. Before your eyes, you saw vivid flashes of green and red. It didn’t take you long to realize that the red was his blood. Or, it was supposed to be. At any other time, these visions would have destroyed you, but at the moment they only added fuel to a raging fire; one that had gone out long ago but somehow burned anew in your chest. For a moment, there was nothing but hate and rage towards the person you loved the most in this world. For a moment, you feed yourself.

And it only got worse from there. You leapt clear across the room, grabbing Douxie and putting your blade to his throat. At the same time, Jim jumped down from the corner of the roof he’d been hiding in and collected Archie and Merlin, holding them at bay. Out of all the things you’d been through, you decided that this was probably the worst. You were so close, so close to killing him. To ending his life, wiping his existence from this earth. You could see the horror on Archie’s face, and on Merlin’s, for that matter. You couldn’t see Douxie, but you could feel what he felt. Betrayal, heartbreak, and fear. So much fear. He was afraid of you.

If you went through with this, no one would ever forgive you, and you couldn’t blame them, but their scorn would be nothing compared to what you’d do to yourself.

You were vaguely aware of your surroundings. Of Clarie and Steve getting themselves frozen, and of the ultimatum offered to Merlin.

“We propose new terms,” Bellroc said, their voice much calmer now that they were in control.

“Give us Nari, or he dies,” Skrael pointed towards you. You could hear Archie yowling, Merlin yelling something and Douxie apologizing. In any other situation, you would wonder what he was apologizing for. Was it for trusting you? For what, in his opinion, must've been failing his mentor and Master? You had so many questions, but the answers didn’t matter. You weren’t in any other situation. You were there, in the Order’s castle faced with an ultimatum of your own. Kill Douxie, the love of your life and the person you trusted more than anything, or fight to save him. The answer to that question was clear. You closed your eyes.

The visions didn’t stop. You tried to stop everything your body was doing, to drop your sword and free him, but you couldn’t seem to let go. You bit your lip, tearing your skin with the effort, tears already coming to your eyes.

That’s when it started to hurt.

Excruciating, agonizing white-hot pain spread across your body from deep inside your core. You’d been hurt before, hell, you’d been tortured not much earlier, but this was beyond anything you had ever suffered through. You dug your nails into Douxie’s shoulder, whimpering, slightly. Your hand was clenched around the hilt of your blade, knuckles white, hands shaking. It was all you could do to keep from screaming. Your entire body felt like it was burning and freezing all at once. The smell of blood and acid hung in the air. The taste of metal stung your mouth. Your muscles seized and relaxed in waves. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes as your poor body battled against itself. You strained against yourself, whispering apologies into the back of Douxie’s hoodie. Your words, however, twisted into a mixed groan and scream. Your mind went blank, and for a moment, you were nothing.

The world was a void. A painful, painful void. You couldn’t focus on anything. You ignored Merlin, his fight for Douxie’s life and his escape from Jim. You paid no mind to the blasts of green magic and Bellroc’s frustrated screaming. You couldn’t give any of it a second thought. Instead, you kept going, locked in a battle of your own. You had to keep breathing through the pain, to take back control. And Douxie noticed.

“(Y/N),” his voice was low, and maybe a little broken, “(Y/N), I know you’re in there. You don’t want to do this, you won’t- you can fight this. You have to fight this. Please, come back to me.”

A gasp escaped you as the pain heightened, reaching a brand new peak. You were 90% sure you were about to die. You dropped your sword, and stumbled back, falling away from your wizard.

For a second, there was nothing. Then you opened your eyes.

And you felt everything.

For that second, for that one moment, you felt the world sink into place. The pain was gone, and you didn’t want to kill any of your loved ones, and you were okay. All you saw were hazel eyes. It was all you needed to see.

But it was just a moment. It didn’t last. You felt a tug somewhere in you, within your magic, and you turned just in time to watch Merlin get stabbed.

You’d never been close to the old wizard. It was just how things turned out. You were a spy and traitor and he was, well, Merlin. There weren’t too many opportunities for bonding between you. But you had to admit to yourself, you did care for the old fool. He’d taken you on as an apprentice all those years ago, and even if you didn’t count it as a ‘real’ apprenticeship, it was. He taught you about a side of magic you’d never known before, and for that, you had to be thankful. And Douxie. Oh, god, Douxie. You knew how much the old wizard meant to him. Merlin was his teacher, his mentor, the man who’d saved his life all those years ago and, in a sense, saved yours. Almost a thousand years ago, Merlin had bonded you to that boy and given you the best thing in your life. The two of you had your differences, but you would be forever in his debt.

Which is why you screamed as the blade tore through him. You found yourself reaching out as he was thrown back to the earth, as if you could do anything to stop it. You felt yourself go numb. Douxie had a slightly more emotional reaction.

You braced yourself against a storm of blue magic, radiating from your wizard. You stood, still as stone, while Jim, the Order, the Knight and Morgana (who’d joined the party at the most dramatic time possible) were blown back. As soon as they were out of commission, you grabbed Archie, scooping the familiar into your arms. In any other situation, the cat would have been fine with this, but at that moment, he struggled. Archie frantically tried to escape your hold, motivated by an intense drive to get to Douxie’s side, to support him in whatever way he could. You felt the same way.

You took a step towards your wizard, but before you could get to him, he turned. His eyes were glowing. Blue. He yelled for you to run, to get away from there, but you were frozen in place by a force you couldn’t name. The difference in his magic, in his soul, could not go unnoticed. He was stronger, somehow, and it stopped you. The light behind his eyes sent a shock through your system. Douxie was never one to use offensive spells on you outside of a full-on fight, but he was out of time and out of options. He threw you and Archie towards the others, calling out another “Get out of here!” before breaking a window and flying out of it. You didn’t even have time to process that. You just did as you were told, jumping through a shadow portal without a second thought.

Earth was colder than you remembered it.

But then again, maybe that was just a side-effect of travelling by shadow portal.

The most likely option, though, was that it had something to do with the scene before you.

Merlin was on the ground. He looked smaller, weaker than you’d ever seen him before. That thought on its own was horrifying. Merlin was the definitive master wizard. He was the strongest of your kind, your leader, in a sense. He was everything a good wizard was supposed to be. And you could feel him dying.

You weren’t the only one.

“-Hold still. I can fix this, I-I-I can fix this-”

I can fix this.

You’d heard that one before.

You’d heard that one a lot, actually. If Douxie had a catchphrase outside of kid-friendly swears, it would probably be “I can fix this.”

He was always so determined to keep everyone safe and to prove himself. Every mess he found himself in, he’d insist that he could fix it. He could fix time. He could fix your broken heart. He could fix the world one day if he wanted to.

But you weren’t sure he could actually fix this.

You took a small step forward, releasing Archie from your hold. Douxie said nothing, at least not to you. He kept repeating those words, over and over again. You could hear him start to lose hope.

“Douxie-”

“(Y/N), help me, please. You have to help me save him- we can fix this. I can-”

“Stop, Hisirdoux,” Merlin’s voice brought your attention back to him, “No one can. Do not blame yourself.”

You took a few more steps forward before kneeling at Merlin’s other side. The part of you that was trained in medicine, a part of you that you were almost surprised to still possess after today, took in Merlin’s injuries. You hated to admit it, but he was right. There was no hope here. Dread settled in your stomach as you realized these wounds, and therefore this death, were, in some way, your fault.

“I’m sorry. I should have listened to-” you stole a quick glance at Douxie. He was doing as well as one might expect.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” the old wizard winced and you put a hand on his shoulder, using what little power you had left to ease his pain. It would not save him, but it might make passing a little more peaceful. He nodded at you, the most approval you’d ever received from the old man, before he continued, “I spent a lifetime serving the wrong master, trying to save this world.”

“You can’t! You’re Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time!” Douxie collapsed onto Merlin, and you could tell from the small tremors that ran through him that he was crying. The old wizard put a hand on his back, trying to comfort him. You felt tears spring to your own eyes. You could feel his pain. You’d known it yourself, centuries ago. Merlin offered a hand to you. You took it.

“Merlin- master, I’m so sorry,” you were only whispering, but you know he heard. They both did.

“I saw a glimmer of greatness, of what you could become,” he moved his hand to Douxie’s face, “And the greatest thing I ever accomplished was saving you,” he brought the hand holding yours to hold Douxie’s. You felt your wizard take a shaky breath.

“I’ll try and make you proud.”

“You already have… son.”

And he was gone. Merlin was… gone.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until then.

“No, no, no, you can’t go!” you pulled back as your wizard cried out, your hands covering your mouth, catching your tears as he pulled his mentor closer to him. His voice lowered to a whisper, “No, please. I’m not ready.”

And then Merlin was ash, dust in the wind, a pattern dispersed.

“Douxie, I’m so sorry,” Claire said as she, Steve and Archie crossed the clearing you’d landed in. Claire went to Douxie’s side, Steve went to yours. It wasn’t much, but it was some comfort in this uncertain world.

“I-I can’t believe he’s gone,” Archie nudged a little closer to Douxie as he spoke.

And he was right. With a final gust of wind, Merlin left you, leaving behind a thick, leather-bound book. His grimoire. Your last hope.

“What is that?” Steve asked as Douxie picked up the book, clutching it to his chest.

“It’s all we have left to guide us,” he stood, “Other than that… we’re on our own.”

He was right. You were more alone than you realized. More than you had been for the last few hundred years.

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