#and it's the only free day in the entire year at the museum so it's gonna be crazy busy all day right before i meet him so that's nice

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

[thesmokinpossum]

also tomorrow i need to tell some really nice dude i went on a couple of date with that it's just not gonna work out and not trying to be dramatic or anything but the stress of it kinda makes me feel like a piece of charcoal in a burning bbq

[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment. 

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum. 

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis. 

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club. 

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go. 

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time. 

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup. 

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum. 

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time. 

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least. 

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city. 

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here. 

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home. 

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days. 

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear. 

You’re going to the booming “after life”. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains. 

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink. 

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place. 

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think. 

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you. 

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual. 

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering. 

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast. 

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile. 

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think. 

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night? 

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices. 

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway. 

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you. 

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it? 

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely. 

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through. 

God, it’s more beautiful inside. 

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head. 

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time. 

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of. 

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest. 

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows. 

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission. 

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work. 

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club. 

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her. 

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be. 

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food. 

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home. 

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that. 

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory. 

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go. 

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass. 

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest. 

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step. 

And suddenly, your body freezes. 

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of. 

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach. 

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?” 

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound. 

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up. 

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there. 

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take. 

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun. 

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring. 

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine. 

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache. 

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep. 

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you. 

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though. 

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person. 

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers. 

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself. 

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend. 

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright. 

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around. 

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile. 

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan. 

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.” 

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work. 

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.” 

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him. 

“So, it’s Friday.” 

He bounces on his feet. 

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.” 

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head. 

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?” 

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.” 

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun. 

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.” 

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance. 

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.” 

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong. 

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless. 

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls. 

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something. 

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up. 

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club. 

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes. 

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist. 

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.” 

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye. 

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling. 

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile. 

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness. 

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face. 

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes. 

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?” 

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you. 

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.” 

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly. 

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground. 

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.” 

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying. 

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone. 

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?” 

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar. 

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink. 

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar. 

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man. 

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat. 

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him. 

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?” 

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head. 

“Red death, please. Two of them.” 

The man nods with a knowing smile. 

“I saw that you came here with someone.” 

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him. 

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence. 

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.” 

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge. 

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else. 

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other. 

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment. 

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again. 

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts. 

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie. 

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it. 

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger. 

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long. 

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you. 

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry. 

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost. 

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!” 

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you. 

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach. 

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people. 

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.” 

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now. 

“Okay, lets get you to-” 

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd. 

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom. 

And it’s still suffocating in here. 

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now. 

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing. 

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you. 

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?” 

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you. 

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing. 

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly. 

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again. 

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face. 

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out. 

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.” 

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.” 

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh. 

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening. 

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them. 

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful. 

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone. 

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you. 

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it. 

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you. 

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll. 

And, well, you do get home safe. 

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame? 

Fuck no. 

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again. 

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist. 

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course. 

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers. 

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose. 

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out. 

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you. 

And, well. The night is a blur. 

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again. 

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it. 

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again. 

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity. 

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point. 

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness. 

And you search. 

And search. 

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point. 

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you. 

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off. 

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it. 

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point. 

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club. 

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp. 

Or human trafficking. 

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own. 

Still, you nod to the bouncer. 

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?” 

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face. 

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste. 

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy. 

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows. 

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours. 

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow. 

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting. 

Again.

A third meeting. 

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?” 

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him. 

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears. 

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times. 

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine. 

Pretending you’re not interested. 

Wondering why it is that you are, actually. 

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?” 

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention. 

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply. 

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?” 

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender. 

What was his name again? 

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no. 

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away. 

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers. 

You should find Jungwon and cling to him. 

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run. 

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.” 

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon. 

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present. 

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club. 

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color. 

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors. 

Blue, red, green– 

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit. 

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow. 

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think. 

Was it not a dream? 

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh. 

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room. 

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them. 

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse? 

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind? 

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you. 

He’s definitely looking for you. 

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back. 

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?” 

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation. 

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before. 

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room. 

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you. 

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more. 

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?” 

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.” 

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. 

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.” 

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all. 

“Come now, dear.” 

Reluctantly, you follow her. 

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be. 

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence. 

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat. 

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is. 

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.” 

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.” 

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.” 

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability. 

Again, red. 

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands. 

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale. 

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed  yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?” 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak. 

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed. 

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?” 

Exhale. 

“Me.” 

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch. 

Well, goddamn. 

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up. 

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.” 

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even. 

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?” 

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place. 

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him. 

God, he’s so charming. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep. 

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here. 

“Where were you?”  He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door. 

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies. 

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.” 

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys. 

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it. 

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not. 

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?” 

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend. 

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red. 

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it. 

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.” 

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him. 

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.” 

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side. 

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk. 

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something. 

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales? 

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world. 

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile. 

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim. 

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay. 

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more. 

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him. 

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel. 

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to. 

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway. 

Month after month after month. For years and years. 

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days. 

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies. 

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” 

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns. 

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.” 

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone. 

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.” 

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen. 

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift. 

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever. 

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake. 

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him. 

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you. 

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here. 

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room. 

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door. 

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him. 

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here? 

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows. 

You feel comfortable, safe. 

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives. 

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway. 

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

 silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways. 

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget. 

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close. 

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them. 

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back. 

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall. 

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.” 

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door. 

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes. 

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?” 

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist. 

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens. 

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest. 

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now. 

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach. 

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you. 

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made. 

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right? 

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.” 

Oh. 

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands. 

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.” 

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you. 

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again. 

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. 

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours. 

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you. 

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.” 

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly. 

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it. 

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth. 

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep. 

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away. 

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins. 

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.” 

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever. 

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth. 

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.” 

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits. 

“Now, listen.” 

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be. 

“Do you hear it?” 

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth. 

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste. 

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon. 

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying. 

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect. 

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least. 

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you. 

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips. 

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears. 

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true. 

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there. 

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath. 

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you. 

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you. 

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that. 

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now. 

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do. 

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own. 

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you. 

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too. 

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him. 

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked. 

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way. 

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood. 

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters. 

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You. 

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him. 

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–” 

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you. 

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it. 

Needing you to stay alive. 

Insane. 

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble. 

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either. 

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst. 

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now. 

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs. 

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?” 

Of course you fucking feel it. 

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold. 

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts. 

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants. 

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world. 

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt. 

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are. 

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold. 

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see. 

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again. 

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?” 

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat. 

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic? 

God, but it feels so, so fucking good. 

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah. 

So he is. 

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead. 

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end. 

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him? 

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him. 

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it. 

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point. 

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up. 

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him. 

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release. 

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed. 

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality? 

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories. 

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying. 

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there. 

Here it is. 

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you. 

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it? 

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice. 

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin. 

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long. 

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening. 

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this. 

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.” 

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?” 

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead. 

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.” 

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you. 

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself. 

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.” 

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.” 

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing. 

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek. 

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover. 

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive. 

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing. 

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy? 

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?” 

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive. 

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you. 

He’s never lied. 

You just refused to listen. 

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you. 

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all. 

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to. 

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself. 

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.” 

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.” 

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again. 

But he didn’t. 

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you? 

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him. 

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[girlkisser13]

being married to spencer reid would include

• spencer is very gentle with you, not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because he loves you so much and couldn’t bear to hurt you in any way.

• the two of you have a designated "no serial killer talk" time.

• your home is filled with shelves upon shelves of books, with new ones constantly being added. spencer likes to surprise you with rare editions or books he thinks you’d love.

• spencer isn’t the most outwardly expressive, but he shows his love through small, thoughtful gestures. he leaves notes in your favorite books and brew your coffee exactly how you like it before you wake up.

• due to his work, spencer can be a bit overprotective. he’d worry about your safety but would do his best not to let it interfere with your happiness.

• spencer would cherish the quiet moments you spend together, whether it’s reading side by side, watching classic films, or simply enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence.

• the two of you have annual matching halloween costumes that somehow get exponentially better each year.

• though he’s often serious, spencer has a sharp wit and a subtle sense of humor that would come out more often around you, making you laugh when you least expect it.

• spencer is incredibly caring and would always make sure you feel loved and appreciated. he’d be attuned to your emotions and would do his best to make you feel better when you’re down.

• he overcame his hatred for driving for you but only because you got drunk with jj, emily, and penelope and needed a ride home.

• date nights with spencer range from museum visits and bookshop crawls to stargazing or attending a lecture on a topic you’re both curious about. he’d love to create unique experiences that align with both your interests.

• SOO many coffee dates.

• though he might not be overly demonstrative in public, in private, spencer is incredibly affectionate. he’d hold your hand while reading, leave gentle kisses on your forehead, and give you reassuring hugs after a long day.

• he calls you before each flight to let you know where he’s headed for a case or to tell you when he’s finally coming home. although he usually doesn’t have time to call when he lands because he has to hit the ground running with the case, he always makes sure to send you a text to let you know they landed safely.

• he bought you a stuffed animal to cuddle with when he’s gone. he was nervous about giving it to you and had an entire speech prepared, explaining how they could be beneficial in many cases.

• spencer likes to leave sweet, thoughtful notes for you around the house, often filled with his favorite quotes, little reminders of his love, or even just a simple "have a great day" message in the morning.

• your relationship is built on a mutual love of learning. whether it’s sharing articles, watching documentaries, or attending seminars, you’d constantly be expanding your horizons together.

• spencer LOVES cuddling with you. he finds a lot comfort in your presence. he’d often pull you close while reading or watching tv, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to you.

• in some ways, being in love with you scares him because he’s never felt this way before. but in other ways, it excites him because he now has someone to share himself with, judgment-free, and a partner to experience life’s highs and lows with.

• this man knows you better than any subject he’s ever studied. <33

[morinuu]

Hello!!!!

I’m so happy to see your requests are open I absolutely love your writing!!

Kyoya x fem reader where they have an arranged marriage because it will help both there parents companies, and Kyoya and reader start to actually have feelings for one another, even though they weren’t sure about marrying the other at first?? Just thought it would be super cute!!

Hope your day/night is going well!!

hiii im so glad u like my work! :3 added a wee bit of angst turnt fluff cus why not. its not exactly what u asked for but i hope u like it anyway!

❄｜kyouya x reader where you're both forced to marry under your families' order. 1.7k words. this doesn't follow the canon for the events after the ouran graduation.

the noiret paced around his room in uneasiness. he knew one day his freedom would be cut short, he'd been waiting for that day, but he also had learnt to have the slightest, stupidest hope that his father's newfound respect for him had changed things.

he wonders, however, how he of all people could have been so naïve.

outside, the fairies of the winter had been drawing pretty little drawings of ice on the edges of his windows, as if to try and distract his racing mind from the events that would unfold the second he got out of his room. he was used to the noise of social events, the people chatter and the pressure of socialising, so this should be nothing for him, right?

right.

he didn't understand this feeling. it wasn't that he necessarily hated an arrangement for marriage, life would go on whether or not it would happen.

looking at the fairies' drawings of comfort one last time, he took a deep breath and exited his room to leave for the wedding venue without a word.

the car ride was uncomfortable. his family had already arrived so they weren't there to talk his ear off and the bride would come some time after than he did as the tradition goes. he had time left to think and contemplate again and again.

he looked down at his tuxedo. the bride requested that if she wasn't able to marry of her own free will, that she at least get to have her dream wedding. not a bad deal, kyouya thought. their outfits had been in matching colours, and both were over-the-top decorated. he felt slightly embarrassed at the outfit, but it wasn't anything too extreme in comparison to what he wore in highschool. the only concern was that his whole family and many important people would be there, though he swallowed that as well, as he'd been doing the entire year of the wedding preparation.

he'd met his fiancée plenty of times in that year. the first time they met was at his university graduation. she was smiling brightly standing next to his sister who rushed to hug him and congratulate him. he remembers her bowing politely and introducing herself, before his father stepped in to explain the situation. he remembers the slight surprise on her face at the lack of comments about his sons' achievements.

the next time they met was at a museum. his sister had advised him to ask her on a date so they could get to know each other. she was intelligent, charismatic, and he couldn't deny her face was pleasant to look at. her interest in history was a plus - at least she had an interesting characteristic.

their second date was a dinner at a restaurant, only the best to serve the ootoris. she'd picked steak and juice - quickly explaining she doesn't drink at the slight raise of his eyebrow. he nodded and changed his own wine order to juice as well. 'you don't have to do that!' she rushed but he assured her he's just being considerate of his fiancée. he never forgot how to be a gentleman.

the fifth date she asked to meet at a commoners' shopping mall to show him around. kyouya wasn't surprised by this. he'd learnt early on from his investigation on potential wife that she'd been adopted into the l/n family due to some sort of an affair. despite it being well-known, the gossip around the situation wasn't very clear, so he decided to wait until she talked about it instead.

at some point down the road, the two had become something akin to friends, and although not very close, y/n claimed she was satisfied with the bond they'd created regardless of its strength.

nine months later, he now is at the altar, bouquet in hand, a performative smile for all the guests to admire - until a beautiful woman comes through with her arm linked to her father's.

the ceremony didn't last long, the after-party however? most guests had already left but the couples' friends continued to act like it was the last day of their lives. the bridesmaids' laughter and his friends' drunk dance moves tired kyouya, but he was having fun, so what's another night sleepless?

a tap in his shoulder by his wife.

"you okay? you seem tired. we can call it a night." she exclaimed into his ear through the music. he'd read enough women's blogs to understand what that meant.

even if he wasn't tired, she was, and that was a roundabout way of telling him. what sort of husband disobeys his wife?

the second they got to their new house, y/n rushed to the bed and flopped on it like a sack. she had no energy to get changed or move, instead asking kyouya 'if they could complete their duties the next day, nobody was rushing them anyway'. kyouya he helped her out of her dress and comatosed with her in peace.

the next morning, nobody bothered to wake the couple. soon they'd leave for their honeymoon anyway. everything happened way too quickly and kyouya didn't know how to handle it. the weeks passed, and he refused to communicate any issues to his wife that weren't work or family related. he felt conflicted, but he didn't know about what. the woman lying next to him was kind, beautiful, clever. what right did he have to complain?

i mean, what did it matter if he didn't feel any connection in bed? why would it matter if she had a disappointed look on her face whenever he had to cut their time short? would it make any difference if he had an heir later and ignored his parents' whines about it? it was a tough thing to do, but each time he failed to satisfy his wife, it felt like a stab in the chest wounding his male ego. so did it really matter that he was away for long periods of time? it was a marriage of convenience, after all, and she wasn't missing out on anything.

she claimed that whatever friendship they had felt like it was dissolving because he 'didn't make an effort'? him? when he's the one working hard to make sure his dad's company doesn't make the wrong decisions? what does she know when she sits at home all day getting princess treatment despite being illegitimate?

"you chose this, kyouya." what?

"you refuse to leave your father's shadow." that's not it.

"maybe if you stood up for yourself, half the issues you're complaining about would be gone!" you're wrong.

he doesn't have free will, he never did. since he was a kid his life had been dictated by those around him, and surely you under-

"you're nearing thirty, kyoya! i'm tired of your self-pity! do something! i'm sick of this!"

it felt like yesterday when he saw his wife in her wedding dress for the first time. back then, he didn't really understand the concept of forever.

yet it had already been seven years.

seven years of obedience. seven years of keeping his head down. seven years of neglecting his wife to dedicate his time to his work. seven years for him to realise he was serving the ootoris. he was never on an equal level.

the issue wasn't his father, it was him. and on his twenty-ninth birthday, a snowy day just like his wedding day, with the winter fairies for comfort, he announced to his old man his retirement from the company.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything. let's try again."

you took his hand and embraced him. you knew your husband was broken somewhere inside him. you'd known for years. you'd seen how his family treated him, how they took him for granted. but no matter what you did, how much you pressured him, he only let you see specific parts of himself, and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

you refused to leave his side, no matter how exhausting your marriage felt. you rarely went on dates anymore, he never made the move to touch you, it wasn't marriage, it felt like... a business transaction.

deep down, you knew that that's what it was. you'd considered divorce plenty of times but at the end of the day, even if not your lover, kyouya was your friend. the man whom you ate breakfast with and lied on the same bed with. the man you'd seen you at your worst and gave you strength, and you knew you had to support even if he refused to let go of what was familiar to him. even if he refused his own happiness.

the sobbing man in your arms reminded you of a younger version of him. years ago, on your third anniversary when he'd planned a trip to chongqing because he remembered you saying you always wanted to go. during your two week stay, he got wine tipsy at dinner and eventually drunk by nighttime, spilling feelings he'd kept to himself for years.

he'd kneeled in front of you, furiously crying in your lap as he held your legs tightly, begging you not to leave because he could feel himself changing and neglecting his personal life.

you'd carried him to bed and admired his face as he fell asleep, naïvely thinking that this was just a rough patch and he'd go back to putting effort in just like he did in chongqing.

but the years passed and he proved to you his fears were legitimate.

"sure, let's try again kyouya." you patted his back when he held you in even tighter. "but this time we're trying counselling, okay?" you giggled, trying to light up the mood.

he pulled back and gave a tiny smile when you wiped his cheek.

"whatever my wife says." he caressed your hair. "let's stay married, okay? i don't want to lose you."

he didn't say the three words, but that was okay. it didn't matter much. romance could wait, because you knew you loved him more than a woman in a cheesy romcom would. you loved his soul, and you wanted nothing more than to see him bloom.

"let's stay married, kyouya. happy birthday."

it was a new beginning for the both of you and you had nothing but time on the horizon.

[hannyoontify]

how your relationship with seventeen was revealed

warnings | reader wears nail art for minghao's part

notes | reader is also an idol, kinda unrealistic in some parts but whatever js let me have this one LMAO, not proofread

seungcheol – an interview

he thought it was high time to reveal your relationship to the world. after (a lot of) discussing with you and receiving your permission, he mentioned you during an interview for a magazine shoot. the question was smth around the lines of "what do you do when you have a particularly bad day" and cheol casually said "i go to [name] for comfort. they're a really special person to me and always cheer me up whenever i'm feeling down. i'm lucky to have them." with an absolute love sick smile.

safe to say, twitter almost crashed after that interview was released and you confirmed it on a livestream js a couple days later. (both pledis and your company were not happy but fuck them)

jeonghan – your hair color

your company's very big on self-expression when it came to physical appearance, so they never forced a hairstyle / makeup / clothes on you or your members. you were free to dye your hair however you wished, and you mostly kept it natural. until you met jeonghan. a couple months into your relationship with him, jeonghan came up with the idea of matching hair colors. he often had to dye his hair for comebacks, and instead of dying your entire head, he suggested that you would only get a single, visible strand of hair dyed in the same shade. you loved the idea and no one really noticed, not even your own company, until a eagle-eyed carat pointed it out on tiktok. the entire kpop community knew you and jeonghan were close since you both guest mc-ed together before and one of your members were close with seungcheol. and it seemed legit. the entire internet blew up and it even became a trend among couples. your companies both released a statement just a few weeks later, confirming the allegations.

joshua – his podcast w/ vernon

there was a question sector of the podcast he hosted with vernon where carats could submit questions via twitter and he and vernon would answer them. he saw a question that asked about their thoughts on your group's most recent comeback, and vernon managed to sneak in a few praises, complimenting the composition of one of the bsides before shua began a word vomit of praise, specifically for you. he complimented how much you improved since the last comeback and how good you looked in the music video, the teaser photos, the most recent stage, basically everything. he was so busy talking that he didn't notice the massive side-eye vernon was giving him and once he stopped talking, joshua physically slapped a hand over his mouth because oops.

no worries though, you thought it was funny and thought it was high time that the two of you revealed your relationship. joshua got clowned for it a lot though, especially by vernon.

junhui – instagram

the two of you tried your best to time your posts so nothing seems suspicious. for almost a year, your pictures from cat cafe dates to museum dates and late park dates went unnoticed by fans. that is, until your group went to japan recently for a short trip for promotions and jun tagged along since he had no schedules for 2-3 days. you found a cute convenience store during a late night walk with him and took pictures. some on your own, some of only him, and some together. except this time, the two of you forgot to talk beforehand and you both posted the photos on the same night.

your manager scolded you for being so careless, but truth be told he didn't actually care. he thought it was funny and only had a word with you because as your manager, he had to. (he already knew beforehand and thought you guys looked super cute together)

hoshi – seungkwan

you and hoshi were having a movie date night but you guys weren't particularly in the mood to actually watch a movie so the two of you just fucked around the whole night, prank calling different members to see how they would react and watching instagram reels (because hoshi swears by them and thinks they're better than 'that stupid clock app'). (the funniest reaction you got so far was mingyu, who was half asleep when you facetimed him and asked him if his refrigerator was running. when he responded with a groggy 'yes', hoshi said that he better go catch it and mingyu actually dropped his phone to go catch it.) the next victim was seungkwan, who you didn't know was doing a weverse at the same time. when seungkwan received the incoming facetime call from hoshi, he grinned and decided to accept the call by showing the camera his phone screen. what he didn't expect was to see hoshi's arm wrapped around you and his chin tucked onto your chin when he answered the call.

when seungkwan accepted the call, the first thing you saw was a reflection of you and hoshi, and you recognized the familiar flow of comments flying past the unfamiliar phone screen at an incredible speed. you dropped hoshi's phone in sheer panic and glanced over at your boyfriend who looked as equally panicked, his jaw basically reaching the floor. poor seungkwan began fumbling for a random excuse but it was too late now. the cat (tiger) was out of the bag.

wonwoo – via the company

wonwoo never thought there was a point in hiding your relationship from the public. he was with the person he loved and what a few jobless netizens had to say about your relationship wouldn't change that. after a couple months of 'testing the waters' and seeing how far the two of you would commit to the relationship, wonwoo just straight up went to the ceo of pledis and went 'yo i'm dating [name] from [group name] and you can't stop me' (with your permission of course, and you did the same thing) after a lot of discussion with both your ceo's, the companies agreed to simultaneously release a statement to the public about your relationship with wonwoo.

woozi – his lyrics

we all know woozi projects everything that's going on in his life through his song lyrics. yk those posts where people are like "i need someone to break bruno mars' heart again" bc his breakup songs are so good? it's like that. the latest seventeen comeback is FILLED TO THE BRIM with love songs and everyone and their mother is like "what the fuck is going on" because woozi's written love songs before but not like this??? the lyrics seem so much more deeper and personal, and the listener can almost feel woozi's heart and soul being poured into the lyrics and melody. woozi personally denied anything on a weverse live but people caught on once he released a mixtape of a love song and the lyrics contained a physical description of a person that was a little too similar to you.

minghao – books (and nail art)

minghao likes reading books. you like reading books. that doesn't mean you're dating, right? so many people in the world love to read books, that doesn't automatically make you lovers, right? ... right, except you read and post about the same books minghao reads and recommends to carats. even then, that could've been a coincidence, right? you just have similar taste in books.

wrong. you made a silly mistake of saying on a live how all your favorite books were recommended by a super close friend that you held dear to your heart. still, you can just be friends with minghao, right? wrong again because fans noticed that you had matching nail art with minghao's, the signature 8/infinity sign on your nails. there was no point in being in denial any longer.

mingyu – instagram

another silly little mistake. he recently came back from a trip with just you and him, and naturally, he wanted to upload some photos to instagram for his lovely fans to foam at the mouth scream over (he knows the power he holds). he was lying in bed (next to you), ready for bed as he scrolled through chose different photos to upload. what he didn't realize was that he had also clicked on a photo of you and him kissing in the dark, under a streetlight. it was a classic, romantic kiss. his hand was resting on your lower back, your arms wrapped around his neck as he dipped you, your leg held up by his other hand. almost immediately after posting, mingyu set down his phone and went to sleep in your arms.

the next morning, he woke up to about 56 missed calls from his manager, a BUNCH of weverse notifications, and 300+ messages from the seventeen group chat (that came back to life for the first time in almost a month and it wasn't js seungcheol talking to himself)

dokyeom – weverse live

dokyeom is surprisingly not shy when it comes to his relationship with you. after a few serious discussions, the two of you ventured out to the streets of seoul in broad daylight, your hand tightly entwined in his own, but no tabloid or news outlet seemed to catch whiff of it. dokyeom was frustrated because he wanted to show you off to the world, tell everyone that he was yours and you were his, but no one was bothering to expose it. so he decided to take this matter into his own hands. after receiving permission from both companies, he started a weverse live–with you. the two of you sat side by side, awkwardly waiting for more and more viewers to enter the livestream. obviously the entire internet went insane when dokyeom held his hand in yours and said with a proud smile that the two of you were dating and would appreciate all the love and support. and the internet officially lost it when he pressed a kiss to your cheek, which made you blush intensely.

it was cute, and even his manager–who was sitting behind the phone–was smiling as he watched the two of you together.

seungkwan – an entertainment show

similar to joshua. a couple members from your group were guests on a show that seungkwan was a regular cast of to promote your upcoming comeback, and of course they already knew that you were dating him. before the recording, they were teasing him (they're all already very close) and kept mentioning your name, which made seungkwan turn into a bright red tomato. during the recording, when it was time to promote your group's most recent comeback, your group members stood in the center of the room and gave a little sneak peek to the choreo of the title track, which seungkwan followed to with on the side (people didn't notice this until the airing of that episode–and an fyi, this was before their official comeback). and when the time came to the talk about the production process, seungkwan immediately began to ramble about how much you improved on your live singing and how proud he was of you. he also talked about how you talked to him about how much you struggled with the change of concept and how you pushed through those hard trials. he also couldn't forget about how good you looked and how the concept change looked really good on you and the new makeup look accentuated your eye color. at the end of his very long speech, seungkwan realized what he just did and sank into his chair with his bright red face buried into his hands.

vernon – vernon being vernon

vernon did a vernon and randomly revealed it on a weverse live, almost giving his poor manager a heart attack. he was reading through the comments when he randomly said 'by the way, i'm dating [name] from [group name]' HIS POOR MANAGER. HAD A MINI HEART ATTACK BEFORE TURNING OFF THE LIVE IN A PANIC. the following day, pledis released a statement, confirming vernon's impromptu confession.

dino – dispatch

my poor boy was the only one who fell victim to dispatch 😭 he was so careful not to get caught because he didn't want you to receive any backlash. specifically went on dates later in the day so the two of you wouldn't be as easily recognized, trying to stay home as much as possible, covering up as much as you both could. but eventually, dispatch caught the two of you hugging at the entrance of the hybe building at 11 pm. first, weird. why were they watching you guys at 11 pm. second, seungcheol was so relieved that the secret was finally out because he was running out of excuses as to why dino was almost never at home anymore.

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[delirious-donna]

Museum Mishaps [Part Six]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: It's been two days since that night at the bar, and Kento is the one to suggest a trip to the museum. Leaving you to wonder... is it a date?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW except for one small mention of masturbation, humour, forced proximity, two oblivious idiots, misunderstandings, a little bickering, Kento is a museum nerd

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

The weekend came and went without further incident between yourself and Kento. That wasn’t to say that things were perfect, but it no longer felt awkward when the two of you occupied the same room. It was much like living with a roommate, which you supposed it was, and you had dealt with that in your first year of college without maiming or killing anyone. Although, you couldn’t recall wanting to fuck your roommate either, so perhaps the comparison wasn’t accurate after all.

Whilst the memory of almost blurting out your late-night wandering hands still burnt freshly in your mind, the rest of the evening had been saved by it. The heat of Kento’s rejection didn’t sting too badly once he turned those hazel eyes on you, suspicion pinning you in place. Anything was better than the look he had given you in the bar.

Thankfully, the banter and easy conversation returned. It was easier to tease him about the incident than dwell on it. Heaven knows you weren’t going to make another move like that. You’d play it off as some silly joke rather than see your feelings hurt. Kento wasn’t interested, and that was okay. You weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, you understood that. Knowing where you stood now, it was a lot easier to build those bonds with your best friend’s brother—for that was all he could ever be.

Kento, on the other hand, felt like an opportunity had slipped through his fingers. It was gone before he could react or try to claw it back. Whilst he was glad that your good humour returned, he couldn’t help but fixate on those unspoken words. It was hard to look past the idea that something was staring him right in the face, and he simply couldn’t bring the image into focus to understand it.

So many times, his mouth had opened, words on the tip of his tongue, only to shut it again. His lack of courage irritated him. Handfuls of his neatly parted hair pushed back to hide how badly he wanted to scrub a palm down his face.

He was no coward.

Except he was.

The dreams were worse than ever. There were never full scenes but enough lingering fragments that tormented him each morning upon waking. Bright sunshine smiles, the warmth of a touch he wasn’t accustomed to and the sound of his name. Such torture, and perhaps, if he weren’t wearing his obliviousness as armour to protect his heart, he would realise that his brain was trying to tell him something.

He was ashamed to admit that he had masturbated more in these three days than he had in almost an entire year. He was more ashamed that he felt more relaxed than he had in an even longer time than that. Whilst he still followed a lot of his daily routine, being able to deviate or change things around was rather freeing, and of course, he wouldn’t put any of it down to the relief he was giving to his body. Preposterous.

Kento missed your presence when you skipped out the door on an adventure he wasn’t invited to. Raising a hand half-heartedly when you waved your goodbyes and clock-watching until you returned. Your stories were fast becoming the best part of his day. Listening raptly to you rave about this quaint little second-hand bookstore you discovered and expressing so emphatically how much you were sure he would love the place, he looked forward to it. It felt like he was rediscovering the city he had lived in for years through fresh eyes and he enjoyed your unique take on the world.

His smile was genuine, if not tinged bittersweet. It was warming that you thought of him when he wasn’t around, but it would be so much better if he could be there with you, and that was quite the realisation to swallow.

In the end, it was that sense of missing out that caused him to blurt out an invitation this morning. The two of you sat side by side at the kitchen island savouring the coffee he had brewed for you both, whilst you thought out loud about where today might take you.

“There’s a wildlife photography exhibition at the National Museum. Kento paused, pretending not to be eyeing you over the corner of his newspaper. “I was thinking of going… would you like to join me?”

He waited with bated breath, silently cursing how nervous he felt and already working on how he would cover his disappointment when you inevitably declined his offer.

“Yes, please! That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to the National Museum before, could we look around as well?”

Kento blinked. In his head, he was ready to say not to worry and that he’d go by himself, but your enthusiasm bowled him over. Shutting his paper, he turned to you and bowed his head in a nod. “Of course. We could leave in around an hour and have most of the day to explore. I’ll just go change out of these sweatpants.”

You watched as he practically scuttled out of the kitchen and down the hallway. It was very unlike him to move so swiftly, and you stifled a laugh before preparing for the outing yourself, dancing along to the soft music playing over the apartment speakers in your excitement for the day ahead.

~

It was hard to look in every direction as you traversed the wide-open atrium that served as the central hub of the museum, but you gave it a damn good go. More than once you bumped into Kento when a new curiosity stole your attention, apologising almost half-heartedly, and not because you weren’t sorry for nudging him so often, it was more that your brain was too busy processing everything it could see.

A large bronze statue of Buddha caught your eye, and you skittered across the polished floor to stand in front of the information plate, eagerly absorbing all it had to tell.

Kento couldn’t help but smile. Your enthusiasm was proving infectious, and he strolled with newfound intrigue towards you tapping photo after photo of the statue on your phone. “I didn’t take you for a museum connoisseur. Every time I’ve come here with Karin, she has whined and pleaded to leave almost as soon as we got here.”

“Oh, tell me about it. I tried to get her to go to this really cool space exhibition that our college was hosting and she flat-out refused.” You harrumphed at the memory of her expression filled with disgust. “I’m not your sister, Kento.”

You moved away to grab up one of the folded paper guides with a map of the place, and Kento was glad of the second’s reprieve after that last comment. No, you weren’t his sister. He swallowed and raised a hand to loosen the knot of his tie only to remember, at the last moment, he wasn’t in a shirt and tie. Another stark reminder of how little downtime he ever afforded himself. Perhaps, it was time for a change.

“If you enjoy space, follow me,” he said with a subtle wiggle of his eyebrows when he walked towards you for the second time. Waving towards the open entranceway to the left, you turned and glanced up into the skeletal remains of what you guessed to be a T-Rex. It made you giggle, and Nanami followed you closely, shaking his head in good humour at the renewed spring in your step.

He led you through a gallery filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, from the long-extinct to the endangered to the thriving. Creatures of the sea, land and air hung suspended from invisible supports, and even a baby blue whale graced the visitors with the enormity of its skeletal shadow. You would have stopped at every sign and interactive spot if not for wishing to keep pace with your guide. Whilst he wasn’t storming ahead, his pace wasn’t meant for the careful reading of every fact you could digest.

It was worth it when you reached an area darker than the previous section, with minerals and twinkling geodes shown behind glass cases. The remnants of a lunar capsule marked one corner with children standing around an employee giving an enthusiastic talk about the moon landings. Models of the solar system in varying sizes caught your attention, but what really stood out was the black dome in the centre.

Stopping short of the hidden entrance you spied when a woman and little boy slipped inside, you tapped Kento’s shoulder. “What’s inside there?”

“Now, why would I spoil the surprise, hm?”

Without another word, he marched inside to leave you standing there, blinking in amused confusion. This playful side was interesting, fun even, and you hoped it would last throughout the visit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself lying on your back staring up at the celestial bodies that made up the Universe with Nanami Kento by your side. He was seated on the floor along the wall when you found him, grateful for the small pillow he’d managed to secure for the both of you given how crowded it was inside. The noise of families, friends in little groups and the odd couple or two died down when the low lighting completely extinguished to bathe you in darkness. You found that you had to lie closer to Kento than you would have chosen, but he didn’t seem perturbed by your nearness, in fact, he turned his head to give you a smile that made your stomach flutter with rambunctuous butterflies.

Denying your attraction to him was growing harder once more, and you did your best to focus on the story above you rather than trying to identify the notes of his cologne that wafted into your nose. The heat of his body licked at your own, warming you thoroughly though you were far from cold. This felt… intimate, or it would, if it were a date.

Was this a date? No.

A mighty boom echoed through the sound system to symbolise the moment of the big bang, and you audibly shrieked in surprise. There were titters of laughter from every side, heat filled your face instantly, and you lifted your hands to cover your eyes in embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Kento’s concerned voice whispered in hushed tones only loud enough so you would hear. His breath fanned your ear from the action of shuffling closer, and you had to fight the urge to shudder in appreciation.

“Fine, I’m… fine.”

He wasn’t buying it, and honestly, he didn’t feel too hot himself. If he spread out his fingers he would brush your hand, that’s how close you were. The near blackness illuminated by the twinkle of projected stars overhead intensified the already far too intimate setting, and despite how crowded it was, everyone faded from his mind as he thought of only you. Kento imagined the two of you spread out like this on a warm picnic blanket, the real heavenly bodies above you and how nice it might be to kiss you beneath their ethereal watch.

The lights came back to life without warning, although had he been paying attention to the experience, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise. Blinking and slightly dazed, Kento sat up and quickly got to his feet, dusting down his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles. He reached out to help you stand before thinking twice, your hand slid into his with perfect ease, and for a moment, he simply stared at you in longing.

His hand was warm, the texture rougher than expected, and when he finally pulled it back, you wanted to tighten your fingers and refuse to let go. The hustle surrounding you both wasn’t enough to sway your attention nor was it enough to calm your racing heart. Your gaze caught the attention of a young couple, hand in hand and laughing about something unknowable, and you coveted what they had, and you didn’t—couldn’t. He didn’t want you like that, and no matter how much you wished this could be a date, it wasn’t.

“Come on, let’s get moving or we’ll never see everything else.”

Kento heard your words. He saw your smile and the wave of your hand to beckon him onwards, but he didn’t believe them. For that brief moment, when your hand was in his, he felt your fingers twitch almost imperceptibly. More wishful thinking on his part? He wasn’t sure, but he was determined not to spoil the day by moping in his uncertainty.

The hours melted away much like the sun rising and dipping in the sky outside. An air of fragility lingered despite both your efforts to dispel the effects of earlier. The exhibitions and various collections were intriguing, but none more so than the man trailing a few paces behind you. An enigma that you were sure you’d started to unravel, but now… you weren’t so sure anymore.

He offered tidbits of information that only a history buff would be able to, the tips of his ears blushing beet red whenever you pointed that fact out. So many times you wanted to sneak up real close when he was engrossed in reading something, the desire to run your fingertips over his ribs and find out if he was ticklish or not, but you knew that wasn’t a good idea.

The wildlife photography exhibition was far quieter than you suspected it would be, and you were grateful to be wrong. After a good few hours of trailing around the massive building, fatigue was setting in and finding a soft seat to rest your tired feet was a pleasant result. Leaning back on your elbows on the overstuffed leather rectangle that sat in the middle of the gallery, you could watch the comings and goings from every angle.

Kento stalked between the various shots that lined the walls, pausing and tilting his head in keen fascination. He was your sole focus, the unexpecting prey with a jaw cut from pure marble. Your lips quirked involuntarily each time he rocked on the balls of his feet—a habit you had not long noticed. If you weren’t much mistaken, Kento seemed to favour long shots where the subject was captured in action; a tiger swimming through a moss topped lake, hyenas circling the kill of a lioness and a vibrant green frog leaping majestically towards a tree branch.

“Do you dabble?” You asked quietly, having approached after your short rest. “In photography, I mean.”

“Hm? Oh. No, nothing like that.”

Kento shuffled awkwardly towards the next picture, a flock of wild birds taking flight from the long grass of a savannah. “How come? You sure seem interested,” you pressed further, eyebrows knitting at the discomfort you sensed in him.

“It wouldn’t be an effective use of my time. I don’t have the hours to sink into a hobby that would see me gain nothing in return,” he explained to your utter aghast.

“What about happiness? Indulgence? There doesn’t always have to be a measurable outcome for something to be fun and worthwhile.”

He scoffed, and you scowled. “You’re still young…”

“Well, I’d rather stay young than become a jaded corporate slave like someone I could mention.” You stalked away to the other side of the room, perturbed by just how little stock he seemed to put into his own mental and emotional well-being. “And I’m not that young, Kento.”

He couldn’t understand your sudden ire. What did it matter to you what he did with his free time? More like what he didn’t do, he supposed. Sure, there had been a time in his adolescence when he carried a Polaroid camera around with him, the bulky piece of equipment tucked into his backpack and brought out to capture those moments that weren’t posed for, finding a special kind of beauty in the raw exposure of life.

It had been nothing but a phase. One left behind when he entered college and started to work towards the life he wished to live. Only now, he wasn’t so sure he was living the life he dreamed of. He achieved the successes he set out to, but was he happy? That was a hard question to stomach, let alone try to answer honestly.

“Why do you look like you want to yell at me?”

Glancing sideways, you frowned up at his towering frame and felt the heat of his anger wash over you to meld with your own. “Because you make it sound like any interest outside of endlessly working or working out is redundant. Irresponsible. Stupid!” Your voice rose higher, the words punched out with a flap of your hands.

“Do you care so little for what makes you happy? It makes me… mad,” you continued with a slight pause. The familiar tight, itchy feeling invaded your throat whilst the prickle of tears stung your eyes. Goddammit! You hated that you wanted to cry when you were angry, and the last person you wanted to see those tears wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” The amused voice of a woman who appeared in her early sixties caught your attention. Quickly wiping at the stray tears at your lashline, both you and Kento turned to the couple who were staring right at you.

The man chuckled indulgently at his wife, patting her hand that was secured through his arm and whispered something that couldn’t be heard. His wife nudged him playfully, and you could only look on in complete bemusement. They walked closer, the woman offering a kindly smile as she reached out to pat Kento’s arm, then yours.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

“Oh, no! You misunderstand, we’re not…”

She held up a hand to silence your stammered protests, shaking her head with a chuckle. “My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

“That was two, dear. Come on, let’s not bother them any longer.” With wisdom imparted, the older couple bustled away, leaving you to blink in bewilderment.

You could feel Kento by your side, his body rigid and unmoving. So badly you wanted to glance up and find out what his expression was, but honestly, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea or not. What could the couple have seen in you? Was it so obvious that you were interested? Even if that was true, surely his disinterest was just as plain to see?

“Well… that was unexpected. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s your life, after all, you should do whatever you believe is best. Can we go get a bite to eat and head home–I mean, back to your apartment?”

Kento could only nod. He couldn’t help but feel as if everything he had come to believe as true was crumbling around his ears. The ideals and principles he set for himself all those long years ago no longer seemed important. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d taken time off work, albeit enforced this time, and he had never felt so unsure of himself.

It was you. Your presence was the catalyst, and he didn’t know whether to thank or curse you. How could one person cause so much inner turmoil without trying? He watched as you wandered towards the archway that would take you back to the main atrium, the light from the skylight caught across your face and your simple smile blinded him.

Don’t wait to go after what you truly want… would he take the advice that continued to ring in his head?

[luna-writes-stuff]

Supernatural characters and what they want to do on a date, please? ♡

some of these will surprise absolutely no one but I am sO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON

——

Dean Winchester

I feel like Dean would be one of the easiest with a date. He always tries to do the things he wants to, so in a date, it won’t be much different. His perfect date would be a road trip - the length depending on what kind of date it is. Usually, you’d drive about four hours to destination unknown, but there have been occasions where you took a couple days off to travel the country and see some classic tourists locations. Vegas is most often where you end up. He’d take you to roadhouses for food, unless you’re travelling to a town specifically. Then, he’d try to find a restaurant which has food he actually likes. If you know him long enough, he might even let you drive Baby. But only for a short while. And his eyes will be glued on you constantly.

——

Sam Winchester

Sam is an absolute gentleman. He’d take you out to a restaurant, hold the door open for you, slide out your seat, won’t eat before you do etc. Nine out of ten times he has a tiny gift with him, regardless of the situation. It could be a random day and he’d give you a box of chocolates or a bouquet of roses. Again - he’s a classic gentleman. He settles for the classic gifts. Afterwards, he loves to take walks with you, visit a museum or simply sit on a bench with a view of some landscape. During hunts, he is likely to take you out to spontaneous trips to the library cafe. Not the most romantic place to go to, but he knows that his lifestyle makes it difficult for him to get to properly take you out all of the time. He prefers the short in between moments more than the entire night planned out. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like them though.

——

Castiel

Does exactly what you randomly mentioned once. When you had only known him for a handful of weeks, you might have casually mentioned you love something such as going to the movies or visiting a beach, and now - years later - he’d have that remembered and do exactly as you said. Over the years, he learns much of human customs, so it isn’t that he doesn’t know what a proper date looks like. It’s simply that he likes to do the things you like to do. He’d much rather do something you forgot you had ever told him than to plan something out for himself out of thin air. Besides, he always enjoys seeing your reaction whenever he takes you out. ‘How did you know I would like this?’ ‘You told me four years ago.’ ‘?????’ He’s very endearing and can never get enough of the absolute shell shocked expression on your face whenever he decides to make your ideas come true. And it still surprises you after so many times.

——

Charlie Bradbury

No, I am not going to tell you she would not take you to a renaissance fair or an arcade or an impromptu DnD session because she absolutely would. Depending on your personal interests and experiences with either three, she’d definitely engage in it. Your first date would likely have been at a ren fair and it has become a tradition ever since. No - not a ren fair like her LARPing (which was still awesome). She’d get dressed up and offer you her arm the entire time. She’d take you to the medieval eating tents, watch live performances of battle field with you, buys you little trinkets at the marketplaces, lets you try on some cool clothing; whatever you enjoy most. The longer you’re dating, the more often you’d go out. At night when both of you are bored, she’d grab a car and take you to a nearby arcade, lovingly annihilating you in Dance Dance Revolution. When you have a free day, she’d try to introduce you to DnD and her current party. The more you learn about it, the more often you’d get invited to their sessions with your own character. She’d sit beside you, holding your hand under the table as she’d be by your character’s side the entire time. It doesn’t even matter that there are other people too. To you, it still feels like a date.

——

Gabriel

Initially, he’d definitely try to escalate the situation into a Casa Erotica tape, but he’s quick to agree with you once you decline. Most dates are spent in fancy hotels or restaurants of which you do not even know the same. He simply takes you there and you trust him with it. Gabriel is one who enjoys party and clubs, so he’d love to take you to cocktail bars every so often, keeping you close to him constantly and showing you off to everyone. Think hand on your waist constantly, sips of your glass, kisses on your cheek, chin on your shoulder etc. If you aren’t one for crowds or parties, he’d bring the party home or to a hotel chamber. He’d pop up his own little bar, mixing his own cocktails (or mocktails), offering them to you as a dramatic bartender, flirting with you as if he’d never seen you before. He’s also a big fan of taking you to big cities just to enjoy the view. You’d be at West End the first evening and Tokyo the second. He’s seen a lot of the world and loves to share that experience with you (and a lot of embarrassing tourist pictures with ‘I love Amsterdam’ shirts)

——

Lucifer

Whatever he does, he tries to brush it off casually. Did he put all that effort into making a non-poisonous dinner with a made table? Pfff, no big deal. Did he really remember you really liked that one necklace? Yeah, he thought you might like it. He definitely did not take that the moment you mentioned it and weren’t looking. He’s a big fan of the tiny date ideas. Movie night? Absolutely. Oh yes, there is a pit with pillows there but it definitely isn’t there because you love them and he secretly loves to hold you close in them. Going out to the marketplace? Fun! He definitely won’t offer you his arm the entire time and get everything you claim ‘smells nice’ or ‘still need’. He does tiny gestures and tries to brush them off every single time, even after you thank him for it or compliment him on it. He doesn’t brush it off out of his pride or negligence of you - on the contrary. He brushes it off to make it seem as if it is easy for him. He has spent a long time separated from any form of contact and has not known love for the majority of his life. To have finally found you is something completely foreign to him, and he tries to keep you happy so desperately, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he puts too much effort into it. It’s okay, though. You secretly know this.

——

Crowley

Much like Sam, he takes you out on classic dates. He’d show up to your doorstep, even though he can easily enter. He offers you his arm the entire night as he takes you out to dinner, walk the city or take you to that concert you mentioned once. Even better - he got you backstage passes. Your favourite artist in town? Isn’t it great to not have that ticket sale stress anymore? Whatever you do during the date, he makes sure you have a great time. Your pleasure and enjoyment comes first, and if that means he has to eat a place he hates or see a band he cannot stand, then so be it. He won’t make a long face nor express his dissatisfaction. If anything, he might even start to like it purely because you do. He’s quick to associate these things with you as well. Once you mention your love towards a certain dish or city, he keeps it locked in his mind and thinks of you every time someone mentions it. He’ll make sure to give you gifts often enough which go hand in hand with your interests and loves. He knows perfectly what you like and don’t like and always keeps this in mind. He’d never take you somewhere you don’t want to be or don’t like to go.

[hyunjinsjeans]

How you met (OT8)

Warnings: Female Reader*

Type: fluff 🧸

Related: He Knows Universe

Masterlist

A/N: it occurred to me I do have backstories from the He Knows universe so I might as well share them.

••••

Chan: you were regular costumers at a local coffee shop, your workplace was close to the jype building and you would pass each other quite a bit. One day the barista mentioned a 2x1 offer to you while Chan waited in line behind you, seeing as you were regulars he made the arrangements so you two could share the promotion. This started you two talking, you were completely unaware of his idol status and he was relieved you spoke to him the same way you spoke to any of the cafe staff. After this you two started talking regularly anytime you ran into each other at the cafe, until one day he asked for your number and to your surprise he asked you out that very same day.

Lee Know: your company started working for jype and you got lost the first time you visited their office. Lee know was leaving a meeting with their manager and some staff about his individual schedules when he found you looking around lost. You knew who he was but you were more concerned about getting back to your meeting as you had only excused yourself to the bathroom and did not have that much time to present your proposal. He helped you find your way back all while calming you down. Lee know recognizes a face, so he knew you as “lost mouse” for months before Changbin asked what your name was one day and then you handed them both your business card - which by the way, is how Lee Know got your number, although he did not call you until about six months after meeting you.

Changbin: you owned a small bakery downtown and when Changbin’s mother descovered it she started buying from you A LOT. Once Changbin got to taste your baking he was hooked and his mom would come to your bakery often, sometimes mentioning how much her son loved your muffins and cowboy cookies - although he was not able to eat them a lot because of his diet. You offered her the sugar free almond versions and this had been very much to Changbin’s liking, so much so that he actually showed up with his mother to praise you and buy more. You quickly became friends and him being him, was dating you in a matter of weeks.

Hyunjin: you met at an art museum in Belgium. Oh, how weird and small the world is. You were there on holiday for your dad’s birthday, but at the museum for a different reason: you needed to finish a paper. You were an English literature major and your assignment was to write an original story in whatever style you preferred, the only guideline was “make it unconventional”, you wanted to tell the story of a painting. And you stopped at the same painting Hyunjin stopped at as well. He needed to recreate a painting he thought would be opposite entirely from his own style. And he picked that one. You stood together for a long time, taking pictures and scribbling notes and doodles on your notebooks until you noticed each other. Two romantics staring at each other in front of an old painting in the middle of a busy museum. He spoke first, but he spoke in Korean, you frowned and spoke to him in German. Both tried to understand each other for a moment before it occurred to both to use English. The rest was just faith.

Han: you met thanks to Bbama. Simple as that. His little dog ran up to you at the park, at the time you were sniffing and crying. Visiting the dog park on the one year anniversary of your precious dog’s passing. She had been wonderful, but she had also been your childhood companion. She gave you her life, your 12 year old schnauzer was missed every day. You met the excitable Bbama before you met its owner, Han was concerned his dog had done something to you. And when you picked up his dog with a smile he was relieved, thankful even, that his dog approached the prettiest girl he’d laid eyes on. You talked about why you were crying and he offered to let you walk his dog every other day since he was busy a lot, you accepted his offer and gave him your phone number. Of course you ended up doing a lot more than just walking his dog…

Felix: a fashion show. You had been acting for a while, your career picked up fast and during that ascent you met a platinum blond singer from Korea. You were seated together and had to introduce yourself to one another, he explained the concept of an idol to you, although you had a vague idea. By the end of the show you two were looking forward to seeing each other at the after party. Felix became a friend to you, someone you would see a lot at LV events, you were both friends of the brand as well. Once you exchanged phone numbers during a photo shoot it was a matter of time before you two started dating.

Seungmin: he fell flat on his face during band practice and was brought to the emergency room during your shift. The emergency room doctor called you in since the manager asked for the specialist to take care of it. Not his manager nor Seungmin expected someone young and pretty like you to walk in and say hello with such authority. You l diagnosed him with a concussion and almost kept him overnight for observation because he was so dumbfounded by you. (He was fine, by the way. He has a sturdy skull.) Little punk got your number from your prescription and he did have the nerve to text you one random Wednesday, playing dumb, asking about some charity event at the hospital - somehow this led to you going out with him.

I.N: you were just a girl. Just a girl minding your business at your first big job. You had graduated a little while ago at this point, you knew no other workplace outside of the university clinic where you did your social service pre-graduation. But you landed a most fabulous job at a renowned dermatologist’s office as a nurse. You had seen a couple of familiar faces but being that you were at work you never quite knew who they were until you read their names on their files. In came a certain Yang Jeongin. His skin was beautiful and you did not doubt to mention it when his appointment was over and the doctor asked for your opinion. I.N looked flushed, he started booking appointments more and more often if anything for the little exchanges with you at the reception until one day he found the courage to ask you out on his way out from one of his appointments.

———

Thank you for reading! Likes and Reblogs are appreciated, please don’t forget to let me know what you think!

[copperbadge]

would you mind talking a little about enjoying traveling solo? I've always wanted to explore, but so many people paint traveling as this group activity, and I've always felt bad not having friends to do it with

My god, how much time do we have?

So, I could indulge in a little free therapy here and talk about some fucked-up experiences of travel I had as a child, but that's not really applicable, so...let's leave it at the fact that until I was out on my own, I didn't get to pick what happened to me on trips. I do often travel with my friends, who are always up to do the dumb shit I concoct for us, but any travel with another person involves compromise, and sometimes I just don't want to compromise, or to irritate my friends. Even though I know they probably won't be, I still worry they will, and sometimes I don't want to worry.

I also never internalized the idea that doing things alone was sad or weird. It's a social cue that I completely missed. The first time a friend of mine randomly came across me eating alone in a restaurant in college, she said, "Sam, why are you eating alone?" and I said, baffled, "Because I wanted dinner?"

I was twenty years old before it occurred to me that other people would feel strange eating alone in a restaurant, and then only because she told me she'd be too self-conscious. I was thirty before I realized most people would be self-conscious traveling alone, something I'd been doing since I was seventeen. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to be with other people -- some people love company or are nervous traveling alone or just plain don't get the appeal, and that's entirely fine.

But I love knowing that everything I do is for me alone. I can go to the weird museum or check out the odd store or do strange secret things to delight myself and never worry that I'm making life unpleasant for someone. I can be as selfish as I want. That's very rare for me and very precious. Also why I will probably never have a permanent romantic partner, but that's also free therapy for some other time.

The truth is, when you are alone, nobody actually knows that. Yes, if you're the only person at your table in a restaurant you're obviously alone, but nobody knows you aren't just getting a bite to eat before meeting up with your many cool friends. I don't look at anyone I see out in the world and go "Oh sad sack, look at them without anyone to hang out with." I think most of us worry everyone is saying that, and none of us actually are saying that.

And when I have been asked if I'm with someone and said, "Oh, I'm traveling on my own", people universally react with envy. "That must be amazing. I couldn't do it," or "I've never gone on a trip by myself, is it fun?" I've never had anyone say or imply that I'm a loser who couldn't find someone else to travel with. Quite the reverse.

Recently I had the thought that if I was more afraid of being alone I would probably have more intimate friendships or at any rate a much wider social circle, because I would need someone else to go with me on adventures and I would have to internalize the idea that it's okay to inconvenience or bore someone else at times, which I never really have. But that's kind of a tautology; "if I was less okay being alone I'd be less alone" is cyclical reasoning, when the truth is I'm someone who is a little fucked up about other people but also just genuinely enjoys solitude.

I love my friends, and I try very hard to form strong bonds with them despite that being really hard for me. I do get lonely, and I spend more time alone than is probably good for me. I get very anxious before solo trips. But I will also always need times when I am alone and only ever have to worry about myself. And once I'm launched on the trip I fucking love it. There are very few joys to rival walking out early in the morning into a strange city and knowing that the day and the city are both yours and yours alone.

Also sometimes I pretend I'm a spy, or an art historian on the trail of a stolen painting, or an academic writing a very important book. That's fun as hell.

Anyway, even when I do travel alone my friends are only a text message away, and I get to see cool stuff that I bring back to my room at night and share with all of you. I love sharing my adventures with you guys.

So yeah. My thesis is that nobody will even notice you're alone and if they do they'll probably think you're fucking cool for doing it, and meanwhile you get to do exactly what you want and nothing you don't. I think everyone should at least try it. You don't have to do a four-country trip through Europe for your first time out; you can just find something in another city that you want to see -- a museum or a zoo or a play or a cool burger joint -- book a trip, arrive Friday night and leave Sunday afternoon. And if it turns out you don't like traveling alone, that's okay too. There's no inherent moral virtue in being alone any more than there is in not wanting to be.

I just think it's super cool to sometimes go haring off on my own and do dumb shit. :D

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

This week I have mostly been reading...

May 13-19th, 2024

New idea I've had, and hopefully something I'll have time to do once a week on a Sunday. Over the past seven days, I have devoured the following Good Omens fanfics, and I recommend these most heartily to you:

Completed works I've read this week:

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b Rated E - A & C are both porn actors. It sounds seedy. It's not. Holy Hell, it's not. It's one of the hottest things I've ever read, but also so, so sweet and delightful.

They Drink Tea At The End by @knifeforkspooncup Rated T - After a year spent in Heaven, A returns to C in the bookshop completely and utterly overstimulated in every sensory capacity. A wonderful, sweet story of them truly knowing each other and an excellent example of how the fandom relates to GO in so many beautiful ways.

Pay Per View by IneffableToreshi Rated E - A lovely story set in Canada, full of our so frequently seen miscommunication between A & C. And, as the author says: "Also, why the fuck is Aziraphale watching porn in their hotel room?! And taking notes?!"

Cranking Up The Heat by @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E - Well, the title says it all, really. And the fic's description: "The equivalent of that hot wings challenge, but with porn." Don't really want to say much more, as you've gotta see it to enjoy it.

On The Same Page by Chekhov Rated E - A fake marriage fic with Only One Bed. A & C are both authors, but two very different ones. Excellently written with very vividly described mental struggles with internal homophobia & self loathing.

A Model Guardian by Fuuma_san Rated E - As a former model, I found this fic really interesting. I'd genuinely love to know what the author's tie/experience in the industry is. C is a model, A is their bodyguard. An interesting tale which involves some great discussion on gender.

In The Room Where You Sleep by @mrghostrat Rated E - Another banger by ghostrat, posted in its entirety this week. In a reversal to many other fics I've seen, A is a vampire and C is a vampire hunter. *Homer Simpson voice* With sexy results. ;)

WIPs which have updated this week (which I devour as soon as I get the update!)

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by @phoen1xr0se Rated M - A is a researcher (puffins!), C is a lighthouse keeper on the island where A has run away to to escape his problems and do his research. The author has recently spent a week studying puffins - which is the ultimate dedication, if you ask me. Ch 9/26 posted this week

Find The Light by @klikandtuna Rated E - Headmaster A and Rockstar C. The story teases out a fraught history between them whilst keeping a tension between them in the modern day. Ch 4/? posted this week.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley Rated T - Astronaut A is guided back to Earth by controller C after 92 years in space. There are many difficulties both of them have to face and they develop an amazing rapport. Ch 15/17 posted this week.

Oddity by @tsyvia48 Rated E - Actor C is contracted by (useless) Gabriel to guest curate an exhibition at the museum where A works. After getting off on the wrong foot, can they work together to pull off this show? Ch 22/24 posted this week.

Under The Summer Stars by @pannotbread Rated E - This wonderful fic has taught me more about physics than school ever did (mostly because I never did any physics, but...well). A & C have to share their time at an observatory because there is Only One Telescope. Not only will you learn about astrophysics, astrobiology, and astroecology, you'll also read some of the most poetically, beautifully written masturbation scenes I've ever seen. *ahem* Ch 6/13 posted this week.

Free by well, me: imposterssyndrome Rated E - A & C meet (again?) in an acute mental health ward after both having had mental health crises. A runs a bookshop but is very much under his parents' control. C has been homeless since childhood and has struggled his entire life. They do not trust each other when they first meet, but feel strangely drawn to one another all the same. Where will this lead them? This is a passion piece for me. There is a lot of lived experience in it, and extensive research from both professionals and peers. It has been a real journey for me to write it, and as I'm coming closer to the end it's becoming very emotional for me. Ch 43/? posted this week

[fromthedust]

Natural History Museum - London 

The Museum first opened its doors on 18 April 1881, but its origins stretch back to 1753 and the career of Sir Hans Sloane, a doctor and collector. Sloane travelled the world as a high society physician. He collected natural history specimens and cultural artefacts along the way. After his death in 1753, Parliament  bought his extensive collection of more than 71,000  items, and then built the British Museum so these items could be displayed to the public. In 1856 Sir Richard Owen - the natural scientist who came up with the name for dinosaurs - left his role as curator of the Hunterian Museum and took charge of the British Museum’s natural history collection. Unhappy with the lack of space for its ever-growing collection of natural history specimens, Owen convinced the British Museum's board of trustees that a separate building was needed to house these national treasures. He drew-up a rough architectural plan in 1859 entitled 'Idea of a Museum of Natural History'. The plan was later referred to by architect Alfred Waterhouse in the design of the Natural History Museum. In 1864 Francis Fowke, the architect who designed the Royal Albert Hall and parts of the Victoria and Albert Museum, won a competition to design the Natural History Museum. However, when he unexpectedly died a year later, the relatively unknown Alfred Waterhouse - a Quaker architect from the north of England - took over and came up with a new plan for the Museum. Waterhouse used terracotta for the entire building as this material was more resistant to Victorian London's harsh climate. Construction began in 1873, and the result is one of Britain’s most striking examples of Romanesque architecture — considered a work of art in its own right and has become one of London's most iconic landmarks. Owen's foresight has allowed the Museum to display very large creatures such as whales, elephants and dinosaurs, including the beloved Diplodocus cast that was on display at the Museum for 100 years. He also demanded that the Museum be decorated with ornaments inspired by natural history. And he insisted that the specimens of extinct and living species kept apart at a time when Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution was revealing the links between them. Along with incorporating Owen’s ideas into his plans, Waterhouse also designed an incredible series of animal and plant ornaments, statues and relief carvings throughout the entire building – with extinct species in the east wing and living species in the west. Waterhouse sketched every one of these sculptures in great detail, even asking Museum professors to check the scientific accuracy of his drawings, before creating the fantastic decorations that complement the Museum’s exhibitions.  While the building reflects Waterhouse’s characteristic architectural style, it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be. In the mid-nineteenth century, museums were expensive places visited only by the wealthy few, but Owen insisted the Natural History Museum should be free and be accessible to all. The Museum took nearly eight years to build, and moving the collections from the British Museum in Bloomsbury was a huge job. Relocating the zoological specimens, which included huge whale bones and taxidermy mammals, took 394 trips by horse and cart spread over 97 days. The Natural History Museum finally opened in 1881. The building’s decorative and Romanesque style by Waterhouse is reminiscent of medieval European abbeys, but it is also a monument to Owen’s vision of what a museum should be: the world’s largest and finest institution dedicated to natural history.

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/about-us/history-and-architecture.html

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/visit/virtual-museum.html

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

Hello MotA and other WWII fandoms (based on real people or not)! I have a fun piece of history for you that you may or may not be aware of.

I just finished my last day working at a pretty cool place. It's a branch of the public library in Albuquerque, New Mexico, U.S.A. What does this have to do with WWII? Let me tell you!

I just so happened to work at the Ernie Pyle branch, named so because it was the only house that the WWII war correspondent Ernie Pyle and his wife Jerry ever owned. Ernie Pyle, if you have never heard of him:

went overseas with the soldiers to document the second world war

pioneered human-interest style journalism for war reporting, specifically focusing on the lives of the soldiers and conditions on the front lines

wrote MANY MANY articles about the soldiers and their daily lives

won some awards, including a Pulitzer Prize

and was killed in action in Japan in 1945, at the age of 44

Here he is, looking a lot more serious than a lot of the pictures of him in his home, as well as a shot of him, his wife, and their dog, named Cheetah:

And, if you've never seen it, the house-turned-library looks like this:

The Indiana University has a few of his articles free to read, so check those out if you want to get an idea of the kind of journalism I'm talking about here: https://erniepyle.iu.edu/wartime-columns/index.html

For the MotA fans specifically, one cool fact about Ernie Pyle is that he had not one, but TWO separate B-29 "superfortresses" named after him. One was just called the Ernie Pyle, while the other was called Ernie Pyle's Milk Wagon (in reference to a quote of his calling the bombings of Japan "milk runs"). The library has a picture of the Ernie Pyle up on top of one of the windows:

And here it is in flight:

So, why a library? Why not, say, a museum? Well, there IS a museum--in his hometown of Dana, Indiana. After his death in 1945, and before his wife's passing that same year, Jerry Pyle (said wife) decided to give their house to the City of Albuquerque in order to honor his memory. There was a lot of back and forth, but one thing stood out above all else: Ernie was a private guy, and this was his home. According to an interview he once gave, he'd said that he built a house because he "needed a place to store his books"--and so what better way to commemorate his work than to fill his house with books?

The house was built in 1940, and as a library it has been in near-continuous use since 1948. It's now a national historic landmark, as well, and celebrates National Ernie Pyle Day every year. It is the second oldest library of the Albuquerque Bernalillo County Library System--the oldest being our Special Collections library--which makes it the very first satellite of the ABQ library system. The ABQ library system now boasts 19 locations. The Ernie Pyle branch is, still, the smallest.

It also has an Ernie Pyle G.I.Joe action figure on display, which is clearly the most important thing to note here:

I don't know how Ernie would feel about the fact that people come from all over the country to visit his home, but at just over 1000 square feet, it's the coziest library I've ever been in. I think it's really neat how history ties us together, and it seems pretty profound to me that Ernie Pyle was so dedicated to immortalizing the men who risked life and limb to fight a war that spanned the entire globe.

Not to mention the fact that I got to put up a lot of staff picks and displays, which was hella fun. Here I am with Moby Dyke and Chainsaw Man (top) and some pictures of one of my favorite silly displays (bottom):

(when is the best time to come out of the closet? ...when the coast is queer!)

I also got to make our holiday card this year! So, to all you WWII nerds, fandom or otherwise...

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 1

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

May 2019:

"And you’re sure you can handle it? I mean working here and college?" Peter Hastings was a nice, middle aged man, looking for a new nanny for his 6 year old son, Gabriel.

"I’ll wake him up at 7:15. Make breakfast and get him ready for school, drop him off at 8:30 and go to my classes. At 3 I’ll pick him up. Help him with his homework. Soccer on Monday and Wednesday. Piano lesson on Tuesday. Prepare dinner. Make him bed ready and then you’ll take over. Monday till Thursday. Fridays I’ll pick him up at 12. We’re going to the park, museum, zoo whatever. Have lunch and I’ll bring him home by 4, where you take over. And if you need a babysitter on the weekends, you’ll call me." Rachel repeated the schedule Mr. Hastings had presented her with, hoping he would hire her.

"Impressive. Well your report looks great, I understand why you’ve got a scholarship for the MCPHS. I’d say you’ve got the job." Mr. Hastings smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Sir! Really!"

"Gabriel liked you, you have strong ambitions. I think you’re perfect. Now let’s talk money, shall we?" he clapped his hands and Rachel nodded.

With a full scholarship and a well paid job that still gave her enough time for her studies, she could start saving up money to get the hell out of Woburn, after graduating from college with her nursing degree hopefully.

"I know this was not what you applied for, but I’ll ask anyways, if you say no, you’ll still keep your job starting in fall!" her new boss said and she looked up "My current nanny, well she left, family emergency, so I would need someone from now on, during the summer until you’ll take over at the end of August. I know, you just graduated and probably already planned your summer, but I thought I ask anyways. Again, feel free to say no, the job is yours regardless. It’s only one more month of school and then it’s… well a full day job, I’m off for the entire August, but before that I’m loaded with events here and there…"

"I’ll do it." Rachel said immediately, every reason to leave Woburn earlier was a good reason.

"Yeah? You sure? I mean like I said, you don’t have to!" Mr. Hastings said but the girl shook her head.

"No it’s fine. Really. I have nothing planned. And like this I can get used to Boston."

"You can stay here. Our old nanny has her own studio in the backyard. That way you don’t have to drive every morning from Woburn to here."

"Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to drive!"

"With traffic in the morning you’ll be in the car for an hour or longer. That’s ridiculous. Come on I’ll show you the studio. You could even stay there when you start college. Thinking back to my college times? The dorms weren’t the nicest place to stay." he laughed and got up, leading the young girl outside through the kitchen.

"I mean. I haven’t seen my dorm yet… but from what I’ve heard, yeah, not the nicest place to stay indeed."

The studio was clean and modern. A kitchenette, a table with two chairs. Sofa, TV and a bed. A little bathroom. It was definitely more quiet and private than any dorm at her college.

"Are you sure it’s okay?" the girl asked.

"100%. It’s yours if you want it. Free of charge. You just have to keep it clean yourself. And if you want to bring friends over, just give me a little heads up."

Free of charge. The money she would safe. Only paying the tuition fee. The rest of her scholarship could go into her savings as well. She could leave home earlier than planned. It couldn’t get better than this.

"I guess I’m moving in then."

November 2021:

Rachel always dreaded driving home. The rare occasions over the past 2 years where she had driven home were all proof why it was better to stay away. But something in her father’s voice when he asked her if she would come home for his birthday gave her the chills. When she parked her car in the driveway of her rundown childhood home, she felt the pit in her stomach grow. Calming down her nerves she opened up the door, walking inside. The house smelt rancid. A mix of liquor, smoke and bleach.

"Dad?" the girl walked inside the dark living room when suddenly the light got switched on. She flinched looking at the man sitting in the armchair facing her.

"If it’s not Miss Americana fresh off of college." Tony.

"Where’s my dad?" her voice not as strong as she hoped.

"Come." he got up and dragged her outside with him.

"Stop. Tony! Let go of me!" Rachel tried to get away from him.

"Get in the car. You can do it on your own or I’ll make you." his jaw clenched.

The girl got inside. Shaking.

"Where’s my dad?" she repeated.

"Your dad… he pissed off a lot of people… he was a capo once… but his drinking? Mamma Mia… he became useless the day your mother died… fallen from capo to soldato… and now? A shame really…" he sneered.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked with a shaking voice.

"Oh bella, you know I can’t tell you. Otherwise I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill such a pretty girl." he laughed and the girl swallowed hard "Just know that he owes a lot of people a lot of money…"

They drove to Winchester and the girl knew immediately where they were going.

"When was the last time you were here? When your mother died?" he asked, although he didn’t sound one bit empathetic "A long time ago… then again, it’s never a good sign if you have to go to Winchester… our family parties are usually held somewhere else…"

The driveway up the hill to the dark manor made Rachel’s insides churn.

"Get out." Tony parked the car and she did as told, following him inside.

"Oh Rachel! Mia bellissima ragazza! Look at you! What a beautiful, beautiful young lady! You should look for a girl like her, Anthony, not the skanks you’re going for." Rosaria Romano pulled Rachel in her arms, before kissing her cheeks "The last time I saw you was before you left for college and now look at you! You’re skinny! Don’t they feed you well at college? All the money they take and then not feeding their students? Che cavolo! You’re staying for dinner! Anthony, tell your father I’m feeding this sweet girl first, before he can talk to her!"

"Mamma! She’s not here to eat!" Tony grabbed the girls arm, but he shrugged away under the cold, hard gaze of his mother. He rolled his eyes, walking away, cursing in Italian.

"Now come, mia ragazza, you can help me with dinner." Rosaria lead her into the kitchen where already a handful of women were cooking away "Here, put that on. We don’t want your beautiful outfit to get stained with pomodori!"

The next hour Rachel cooked together with the ladies, told them about college and how her life was going. She knew all too well that she couldn’t tell them everything. Giving away too much was dangerous, so she lied mostly.

"And what about the boys at college? Someone special there for you?" nonna Viola asked right as Tony came back.

"She’s coming with me now." he grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her with him. A muscle ticked at his jaw. His hold on her arm made her whimper in pain.

"Anthony! You hurt her! Stop! Don’t make me swing my mattarello at you!" nonna Viola raised her rolling pin and Anthony let go of the girls arm "There you go, stupido!"

"Come." he glared at the girl who took off the apron, handing it Rosaria.

"When the men have finished whatever their having to talk about now, we’re finishing our conversation, Rachel." she smiled and Rachel nodded.

As she followed Tony down a long, dark hallway the bad feeling she had, since hearing her father’s voice on the phone earlier that day, only intensified.

When they stopped in front of a big oak door Tony pushed Rachel hard against it, caving her in. His nose rubbing down her cheek. His breath reeked of smoke and liquor.

"You won’t like what’s happening next and let me tell you, I understand you. But then again… mhhh look at you." he whispered in her ear, making the girl shudder "My mother wasn’t that wrong, I should go for a girl like you…"

"Anthony?" Don Vito’s cold voice rang out through the door.

"We’re here, papa!" Tony said with a sadistic grin.

"Bring her in then. We have a lot to do."

January 2022:

"Miss Lombardi? Miss Lombardi!" the screeching voice of Professor Cullers made Rachel flinch "Ah great. You are with us again… well, do you know the answer, to Miss Edwards question?"

"I- umm… I don’t. No." the girl looked at her professor "Sorry."

"Maybe stop daydreaming then and start listening to what I’m teaching you."

"Yes, ma’am." she nodded.

The rest of the class Rachel kept writing down everything Professor Cullers said, listening carefully and when the bell rang she was one of the last to leave.

"What’s going on with you?" Stuart asked, waiting at the door for her.

"What do you mean?" they walked side by side to their next course.

"You’re absent. Pretty often. For weeks now…"

"It’s nothing. I’m fine. I promise." Rachel faked a smile and Stuart sighed.

"Ok, cut the crap. What’s going on? Since you left for your father’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, you’re acting strange… what happened at home Rachel?" he looked at her and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

Stuart was the only friend she made in college, he didn’t talk much, but there was a sense of understanding between the two after she accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a stranger behind the cafeteria one day. Rachel since knew that their backstory was similar and that he broke off all ties to his old life. He would understand her, if she told him what happened. But then again, she knew that she might endanger him if she told him too much.

"How hard was it? Leaving everything behind? Cutting off all ties to your family?" she asked instead and Stuart contemplated his answer for a moment.

"It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I had to do it, so I powered through…"

"But I mean… how did you do it? Where did you get your new identity from? What happened to your old one?" the blonde girl pressed.

"I know a guy who knows a guy… but it costs a lot… also, starting a new life somewhere new isn’t for free either."

Rachel thought for a second, all the money she saved from her scholarship so far, because she only had to pay for the tuition fee and work materials. All the money she saved from working for Peter, which she barely had touched. It was a nice little sum and should keep her afloat for a while.

"Why are you asking me all this? What happened?" Stuart asked again and Rachel sighed "You can tell me, Rach. Nothing you can say will scare me away… I know how you grew up… I know how it is… so come on, tell me."

"I need to leave. Like for real… I always planned on moving to Boston after college, but they won’t let me… I only have time after graduation and then my old life will catch up with me again… I will be pulled into this mess that my life is if I don’t run away." Rachel almost whispered and her friend looked at her wide eyed "They wanted me to leave college immediately but I managed to convince them that a nurse with a degree and all qualifications is more helpful, more useful for them, so they agreed, but as soon as I graduate they will take me back to Woburn or rather Winchester… I can’t go back, Stuart…"

"And you shouldn’t have to go back, but Rach this is a dangerous thing to do? Killing off your old self, start a new life… it’s going to cost you more than just money…" Stuart said and Rachel nodded.

"I’m willing to do whatever it takes…" the young girl said determined.

"Then I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy…"

"Everything is better than staying here…"

"I need to make a few calls, then we’ll see." Stuart smiled at her.

"Thanks Stu. You’re a good friend." Rachel squeezed his hand.

"I’m currently your only friend… so that’s that."

"True…"

April 2022:

"Rachel? There’s a letter for you!"

"Thanks, Peter!" the girl took the letter from the counter, while stirring the pasta sauce "Waterman and Krieger? What is that?" she asked when she saw the sender of the letter.

"They’re a law firm. Inheritance law if I’m not mistaken." Peter looked up from his newspaper.

"Inheritance law?" Rachel ripped the envelope open, unfolding the letter. She went silent, staring at the letter, the pasta sauce bubbling.

"Rach? Hey? Rach?" Peter grabbed the sauce pan and shoved it off the stove top "What happened?" he looked at the girl worriedly.

"My- umm… my mom… she left me some money…" Rachel said slowly, looking at Peter "They write that mom set up a trust fund for me before her death. I have access to the money when I turn 21. Which is in three months."

"Oh wow…" Peter squeezed her shoulder "Do you need a moment? I can finish up dinner and I’ll send Gabe to get you when it’s ready?"

"Is that okay?" the brunette asked and he nodded "Thank you."

Back in her studio she looked at the letter and saw that there was also another smaller envelope inside. She knew the handwriting immediately.

My sweet Rachel,

when you read this letter it means I am no longer around to gift you with my last treasure.

Every money I earned from winning beauty pageants and later from working and that wasn’t needed, I put aside for you.

I know you’re a smart girl and every college would offer you a full scholarship, but just to make sure that if not, we have the money.

I never told your dad about this money, I was too afraid that he would use it. Your father is a great man and I love him dearly. But he’s surrounded himself with the wrong people, they poisoned his mind. And over time he had to drink more and more to forget what he had to do daily for Don Vito.

Please don’t tell him about the money. Keep it to yourself. It’s enough for a fresh start, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be by your side for longer. That I couldn’t give you the home that you deserved.

Promise me to live a good life. Go live your dreams. But please never forget that I love you, my little Miss Americana.

Love always,

Mom

Rachel leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. When her mother died, she felt lost, didn’t know how to move forward, didn’t know how to continue with her life. Her father lost himself in alcohol, maybe even drugs. He disappeared for days, just to be laid down on the front porch by some of the men he worked with and for Rachel to get him inside, making sure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. She knew what he was doing. She knew who he worked for. From the day she was born she was part of a world she never wanted to be in, as she later realised. Movies and pop culture didn’t do this life justice. It wasn’t glorious or mysterious. It was scary and dark. Where other kids her age went to school and made new friends Rachel always had to stick to the kids from the family. To make sure she wouldn’t spill anything about her father’s work. Her mother had to fight hard with her husband to allow her to take Rachel to beauty pageants, after the little girl watched her mother getting dolled up for numerous pageants herself and wanting to be just like her when she was older. Rachel was talented, just like her mother. Her beauty apparent from a young age and it didn’t take long for her to win her first pageant. She loved competing in pageants. But what she loved even more was the time she spent with her mother. She was always so carefree and happy at the contests, a stark contrast to her usually quiet and almost depressed personality at home. She was always trying to not show Rachel how sad and worried she really was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and Rachel had asked her more than once what was going on and why she was so sad.

"It’s nothing, my little Miss Americana, grown up stuff, nothing to worry about for you, my pretty girl." she had always said, followed by a kiss on Rachel’s forehead and a "I love you, my Rachel."

But with every year she got older she figured out more and more why her mother was so sad. And why the only times she was happy, careless and free, was when they went to pageants together. Because for a short while she could forget in what danger she was living with her daughter. What her husband did for a living. And the fear of the day where she, or worse Rachel, would have to pay the price of her husband’s job.

Ultimately she paid the price. After Rachel won the Miss Teen USA pageant in September 2016, and she had floated on cloud 9, her mother decided she deserved a treat and on the way home from Boston, where the pageant was held, she stopped at a little diner.

Rachel remembered how her mother ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries, she herself got a chocolate milkshake and fries and as soon as their food had arrived her mother looked around, a big grin on her lips before she nodded.

"No one’s watching… go!" she chimed and began dipping her fries into her milkshake.

Rachel laughed but did the same. Her father was always grossed out when his wife and daughter did that, laughing at them for their craziness, saying they better watch out or the food police would arrest them.

They were so happy that evening, her mother saying a million times how proud she was of her and what amazing and exciting times were ahead now for Rachel. But that happiness was gone in an instant when 2 men entered the dinner and her mother’s face turned to stone. She stopped laughing and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. To not draw any attention to them she silently held up her hand when the waitress looked over to them, signalling for her to come over. Paying in silence Rachel’s mother took her by the hand, guiding her outside, back into the car where she locked to doors immediately, starting the engine. She remembered how her mother called her father, telling him that two of Volkov’s men were at the diner. But before she could say anything she looked into the rear view mirror, her face turning pale when she told her husband that they were being followed. It didn’t take long for her mother to speed down the main road leading into Woburn, faster than ever before in her entire life. On speaker Rachel’s father telling her that their men were already on the way. But it was too late. She felt her mother grab onto her hand, clutching it tightly in her own, when the car was hit with something and soared through the air. She closed her eyes, holding onto the grab handle, listening to the sounds around her, when a searing pain shot through her left thigh. The pain was mind numbing and she tried her best to not focus on it. She tried to listen to the sounds around her but after a short while she only heard her own blood rushing into her ears. Then she felt her mother squeezing her hand and she opened her eyes, her first look was on the bright digital watch in the dashboard, then her mother squeezed her hand again and Rachel turned her head a little, looking at her.

"I’m so sorry, my beautiful Rachel. I love you so much." her final words as Rachel later had to find out.

After that night her father was never the same again. After that night Rachel was never the same again. She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors all confident that with the right care the wound on her right thigh, caused by an open break of her femur, would heal without leaving a big scar, so she could still compete in beauty pageants. But to her it didn’t matter. Without her mother she didn’t plan on continuing. And because of her not responding to any of the calls, mails or letters from the Miss Teen USA committee, regarding her upcoming tour through the United States, they stripped her off her title 6 weeks later, appointing her runner up, Caitlyn Summers, as new Miss Teen USA 2016.

Rachel absentmindedly rubbed her thigh, feeling the scarred skin through the thin fabric of her leggings. A reminder of the night that changed her life forever. That destroyed her life forever. She had to blink away tears, wiping her cheeks when Gabe knocked on the door, making her flinch.

"Rach! Dinner is ready!" his happy voice sounded through the door and the young girl cleared her throat.

"I’m coming in a minute Gabe!" she replied and listened to the sound of his steps on the gravel.

Rachel got up and looked into the mirror, wiping away the last remaining tears. It had been a while since she thought back to that night. The memories still too hurtful and real. After a minute of composure she followed Gabe back into the main house trying her best to not show the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

When Rachel went to bed that night she felt exhausted, drained, but also determined. Determined to escape her life in Woburn. Or Winchester. Escape her family. Live a happy life, just like her mother wanted her to. She would honour her mother’s last wish, give her all to do so. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - and that’s it. First chapter done. I tried something new this time, writing this story from a third-person perspective and also switching between Miss Americana/The Heartbreak Prince centred chapters. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! 🩷💜

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos

[marzipanandminutiae]

In case you are interested in further museum horror stories, I was not working there, but here it goes: a small kid, aged about 24 months, was left to roam free by their parents, who were very obnoxiously taking pictures of themselves with some of the objects on display as if this were a professional shoot. This was on a tour, mind, so they were not only being a tad annoying, their behaviour was not very polite, too, given the tour guide was talking to the group. Their kid was extremely noisy, running around and at one point, went straight for their mother's legs and hugged her from behind, causing her to almost stumble into a huge 18th century silver tankard due to the unexpected force of the child crashing into the back of her knees. The entire room seemed to gasp, anticipating to become witnesses in a high-stakes insurance claim and police investigation. Now, this was a special event guided tour with a costumed interpreter in full 18th century Prussian regimentals, who, looking at the concerned face of the museum worker close by, and the annoyed ones of the visitors, took charge of the situation: he used his walking stick to point at the child in one astonishingly swift motion and grumbled something like "You! Eh, children...", giving the parents a very dirty look. The funniest thing was, this was the moment he seemed to be most believably in character. The little one turned to their mum, buried their face in her leg and remained quiet for the rest of the tour. I feel a little bad for the child, who should clearly have been better supervised (or not brought along to a tour for older children and adults at all) but I hope it was a lesson to the parents. You don't get to be the focus of negative attention by an 18th century king in full dress uniform every day, after all.

Good for him.

You're right, though, I will say- that's on the parents. If you can't find a babysitter or think your two-year-old will get something out of the museum (hey, start 'em young!), it is now your job to run interference on that two-year-old. You don't get to take Instagram pics if you elected to bring a toddler to the Fragile Priceless Artifacts Zone.

Like I said in an earlier ask, I've honestly had more issues with adults than kids only a little bit older than that and up. Children are used to hearing "don't do this" and following directions. Adults are more likely to think "why?" and even after having it explained, "that doesn't apply to me."

Most people of all ages are fine in museums, to be clear! It's just the small number of jerks that stick out in one's mind.

[pocketseizure]

We Should Have a Sequel

After his attempted invasion of Brooklyn, Bowser has been confined in Peach’s castle. Luigi is afraid his brother will land himself in trouble if his attention isn’t captured by a new diversion, and what better way to stir up excitement than to set the Koopa King free? 1,700 words . Rated T . ( also on AO3 )

The interior of Peach’s castle was far larger than it appeared from the outside. Luigi still got lost on occasion, but he had no trouble finding the room where the Koopa King was imprisoned. Even hidden in a far corner of the castle, and even trapped inside a thick wall of glass, the man could be heard from yards away.

Luigi hadn’t told anybody about his intention to pay a visit to Bowser. Not that anyone would pay attention even if he did. Worlds away from Brooklyn, Mario was still the star of the show.

Luigi didn’t mind that the spotlight was on his brother. Far from it. He had no desire to be the center of attention for their enormous family, nor did he want anything to do with the endless parade of games that amused the princess.

If Luigi knew his brother, however, Mario would eventually grow tired of Peach’s obstacle courses before long. When that happened, there would be trouble.

He’d seen it happen before, countless times. First Mario quit the family business, and then he quit trade school. Then he quit the only contracting service that would hire them, only to blow their savings on a commercial narrated in an old-world accent their grandmother would have been ashamed to hear, rest her soul. So why not jump directly into the sewers under Brooklyn? That would show everyone, sure. No misdemeanors there.

Brooklyn was one thing, but the Mushroom Kingdom was something else entirely. If Mario made impulsive decisions here, it could have serious consequences. Luigi sometimes caught the princess watching his brother, and he feared the sharp edges hidden underneath her frills.

Ever since they were kids, Luigi always went along with everything Mario proposed, but something had changed. His patience had worn thin. Spending a few days in a cage suspended over lava would do that to a guy. Someone needed to take action before Mario became a danger to himself and everyone around him. For better or worse, that someone was him. 

There was no door blocking the room where the princess had imprisoned Bowser, nor was there anyone to stop Luigi from walking right in.

Bowser didn’t notice. He was too busy banging at his keyboard and wailing. As far as Luigi could tell, the song was pure nonsense. Bowser was almost kind of cute, he thought, sort of like the stuffed dinosaurs they used to sell at the Natural History Museum when he was a kid. They probably still did, for all he knew. It had been years since he’d been across the bridge to Manhattan. It was just a short train ride away, but it always seemed like too much trouble.

But that was then, and this was now. He didn’t need Mario to hold his hand.

Luigi reached forward and tapped the bottle. 

Bowser wasn’t the least bit surprised. He shot Luigi an annoyed look. “Hey, can’t you see I’m jamming here?”

“Sorry to interrupt. I don’t know if you remember me, but, well. Anyway.” Luigi fished his glass cutter out of his pocket and held it up for Bowser to see. “I thought you might like to get out.”

“What makes you think I want to leave?” Bowser snapped.

Luigi didn’t know what to make of that response, but he soldiered on.

“Sorry, um. Just try to hold still.”

“No. No no no no.” Bowser shook his head. “You think you are going to help me with that tiny little tool? Don’t be ridiculous.” He extended a claw and, in the blink of an eye, sliced off the cork end of the bottle. The glass fell and struck the floor with a resonant peal.

“Et voila. Nice and clean,” Bowser gloated, blowing a puff of dust from his claw.

Luigi lowered his glass cutter. So much for his genius plan.

“You could have gotten out this whole time?” he asked.

“Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

“I was waiting. Like a gentleman.”

It took Luigi a moment to realize what Bowser was talking about. “You were waiting… for Peach?”

“That’s Princess Peach to you. She was bound to come eventually, when she realized how much I love her.”

Luigi gazed at the small creature perched comfortably on his tiny piano bench. Unaware of how silly he looked, Bowser was the picture of smug confidence. Luigi was starting to regret this conversation.  

“Listen, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she’s coming anytime soon. What is it you like about her anyway?”

‘I’m glad you asked,” Bowser replied, turning back toward the piano.

“Wait!” Luigi interjected quickly. “Don’t start singing. Please. You can tell me with, you know. Words.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bowser began counting his fingers. “One, her sweet soft skin. Two, her bright silky hair. Three, her lack of teeth.”

“I think she has teeth,” Luigi remarked.

“Not ones that hurt,” Bowser replied. “And four, no fire breath. Is that not perfection? I’ve never laid eyes on a more divine being.”

Luigi thought for a moment. “Does it have to be her?” he asked.

Bowser narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, you might just have a thing for humans. So you don’t have to marry Peach. It could be any human. It could be me. For example.”

“That’s an interesting proposition.” Bowser stood from his bench and took a step forward. In the next moment, he was standing in front of Luigi, full-sized and larger than life.  

Luigi stepped back in alarm, and his heel caught the hem of his overalls. Of course I would trip, he thought as the moment spooled out in a frayed thread of embarrassment. 

Whatever athletic ability ran in the family, none of it went to him. Mario could run magical obstacle courses day and night, but even the thought of jumping around while hopped up on mushrooms made Luigi’s stomach turn. He was more of a bookkeeping kind of guy, truth be told. He was the one who remembered the keys and the phone and the toolbox. And the glass cutter, for all the good it did. Despite his brother’s many faults, he was half the man Mario was, and he had no business getting himself into this sort of mess. 

Bowser clutched Luigi’s arm, pulling him back. “Hold still,” he ordered.  

Time seemed to melt like butter as Bowser traced the contours of Luigi’s face with his claws. His breath was like gasoline and hot tar under the summer sun. It was a smell Luigi always loved, back when he would drive to Jersey to buy beer and cigarettes for his uncles. He’d fill up the family van and sneak glances at the strong callused hands of the men who pumped the gas.  

“So you’re a human too,” Bowser observed as he toyed with a strand of Luigi’s hair. “What does a human want from me?”

“I thought maybe you might like to give it another shot,” Luigi stammered. “You know, conquering the Mushroom Kingdom. It’ll keep things interesting. Second time’s the charm, right?”

Bowser grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re all right, Luigi. You know what, I might have some use for you. And the other humans will bend over backwards to rescue you. How’d you fancy coming to my castle for a visit? Special invitation only, if you catch my meaning.”

“I’d like that,” Luigi answered, amazed that Bowser would agree so readily.

“Excellent. It’s a date.” Bowser struck his shoulder once more, and Luigi could feel his bones creak under the weight of his massive hand.

Before Luigi could think to say anything else, Bowser vanished in a cloud of fluorescent sparks.

Luigi stood and stared at the empty space where Bowser had been. “He remembered my name,” he muttered.

“Of course he did. Who do you think he is?” snapped a peevish voice at his back. Luigi spun around to find a turtle in a hooded robe glaring at him through the thickest pair of glasses he’d seen on this side of the 1990s.

“Kamek at your service. Charmed, I’m sure. I came to pull His Majesty out of his ridiculous slump, but it seems you beat me to it. Care to explain the little scheme you’re hatching?” he asked as he tilted a wicked-looking wand in Luigi’s direction.

Luigi panicked. “My brother’s going to get himself in serious trouble if he doesn’t have a distraction soon,” he blurted.

“And you’d put both of our kingdoms at war to amuse your brother?”

“You looked like you were having fun the last time,” Luigi answered honestly.  

“You’ve figured it out quicker than most,” Kamek said with a sigh. He lowered his wand. “Fine. Fair enough. You seem like you have a decent head on your shoulders. I’ll do you the courtesy of not asking why you’re attempting to seduce the king.”

“I’m not – ”  

Kamek cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t waste my time trying to deny it. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. His Majesty can be a bit much.”

“I have experience dealing with big personalities.”

Kamek clicked his tongue in annoyance. “His personality isn’t the only thing that’s big about him. I suggest you take advantage of your time here and do your research on mushrooms. Their effects can be quite useful to someone in your situation. The last thing I need is to mop you off the bedroom floor.”

Without another word, Kamek vanished into a puff of sparks. Bowser must have learned it from him, Luigi thought as he smoothed back his hair. And was that old turtle seriously suggesting…?

It was entirely possible he’d bitten off more than he could chew, but for once in his life he’d managed to make a decision on his own. He’d just have to live with the consequences. Hopefully said consequences wouldn’t be too unpleasant; he could happily live the rest of his natural life without ever seeing lava again.

He hadn’t intended to seduce anyone, but that hardly mattered. Bowser didn’t outright reject him, and that was a victory worth celebrating. He’d just have to wait and see what happened next. For the time being, it probably wouldn’t hurt to experiment with mushrooms. Why not. After all, he might just have a date with a fire-breathing dragon. What could possibly go wrong?