#f: romance is dead

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 19.4k ❧ warnings: cursing, graphic description of blood and blood drinking (you know, vampire stuff), graphic description of neck biting so if that’s your no-go zone it’s time to make a decision here, mentions of death and dying (in the context of vampires) ❧ genre: fluff, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au, vampire kun, human reader, ft. various other magical weishens, “uh-oh one of us drank a love potion” trope but with a twist, same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: omg omg i’m so excited to not only debut vampire kun but to begin expanding the strawberry sunday universe! enjoy! ❧ sequel

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“Did I just drink a goddamn love potion? What the fuck were you planning on doing with a love potion, exactly, anyway?”

“We were supposed to bring them in to test their properties in the lab. And it’s not just a love potion... That already exists, I wanted to take mine to the next level. That’s why Kun’s here.”

“I just don’t get this one,” Kunhang sighed, tapping his pencil against his laptop.

He shifted in place on his bed, reaching behind him to scratch at the middle of his back. You were sitting at his desk chair, going over review questions for your Calculus test tomorrow. Your friend kept itching at his back, and you spun around, putting your notebook and pencil down on the desk.

“I think we need a break, Kunhang. You look like you need to preen,” you declared, standing up and stretching.

“Yeah,” his nose scrunched up as he set his computer aside to get at his back and shoulders with two hands.

“I’m going to get something to drink. You want anything while I’m up?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks, Y/N.”

In Kunhang’s kitchen, you downed a cup of water first. Knowing that the gryphon would be taking some time to preen his wing and shoulder feathers, you opened the fridge to see if you could find anything good. It was barren, it didn’t seem like he nor his witch roommate Yangyang had gone grocery shopping recently. The door held mostly condiments, however you did spot a couple bottles of blue and red Gorgonade. The seal on the red sports drink was cracked, but it looked completely full. You didn’t mind drinking it if your friend had only taken a sip or two. After all, red was your favorite.

Carrying it back over towards his room, you called out down the hall, “Kunhang!”

“Eh?” His response was muffled through presumably a mouthful of feathers.

“Is this your red Gorgonade?”

“Huh?”

“Gorgonade! Can I drink?”

“Have whatever you want!”

“Thanks!”

You wandered around the living room, stretching your legs as you took your first sip. It didn’t taste like the red sports drink normally did. It had a more… earthy taste to it. Still slightly sweet, and a bit rich. But definitely not the normal fruity and saccharine flavor. Looking closer at the label, it definitely said Fruit Punch. You inspected the expiration date next. Nope, definitely well within that, by over a year.

Wondering if you had tasted it right, you took another sip, staring hard at the words ‘Fruit Punch’ on the label. No, still tasted a bit off. Holding the bottle up to the sunlight streaming in through the living room window, you saw that the color wasn’t quite right either, a darker red than normal. Kunhang must have left the bottle open in the fridge for too long and it went a bit off.

You were half done with the bottle by the time you heard Kunhang yelling from his bedroom. Figuring that it was him telling you he was done, you walked back over.

He was readjusting his shirt and fixing his hair as you walked in, looking much more refreshed now. You picked up a stray grey feather that was on the desk chair and tossed it in the trashcan with the others before sitting down.

“Where’d you get that?” He nodded at the bottle as you took another swig from it.

You tilted your head in confusion, “Uh, your fridge?”

“Must’ve been Yang’s,” the gryphon shrugged. “I thought you had found the blue one that’s in there.”

“Oh shit,” you looked down at the mostly empty bottle, feeling guilty now.

“He’ll live.”

A bit ashamed, you finished off the drink and set the empty container down on the desk.

You two had gotten through only a couple more review questions before the door to Kunhang’s room was thrown open, a wild-eyed, disheveled, crazed Yangyang bursting in.

“Have you seen my—” His eyes bugged out of his head when they landed on the empty bottle next to you. He looked between you and Kunhang frantically. “Which one of you drank that?”

You immediately went to apologize, a bit alarmed at how invested he seemed in this drink, “That was me, Yangyang. I’m sorry, I thought it was Kunhang’s. Look, I’ll buy you another.”

The witch winced, looking over his shoulder at something in the hallway. Another figure entered the room then, who you recognized somewhat. You knew of Qian Kun through mutual friends, he attended classes at your campus too, in addition to being a several-century-old vampire. Though you’d never asked, he looked as though he’d been turned in his mid to late twenties, but that presumably didn’t matter much once you’d been around for centuries on end.

Kun’s hands were tucked into the pockets of his crisp dress pants as he seemed to be appraising you. Despite being a student, the couple of times you’d seen him in passing, he had been dressed more like a professor than most of your professors. Today he was in a pair of black slacks and black knit sweater with a white collared dress shirt underneath.

You and Kunhang exchanged bewildered looks before the gryphon finally spoke up.

“Yangyang, what the hell’s going on?”

“Uhm…” Yangyang ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “How- How are you, Y/N? You know, we never hang out—”

“Yangyang!” You cut him off. “Did you do something to that Gorgonade?”

“Well, no…” He refused to meet your eyes, explaining to the floor. “Becauseitwasn’tGorgonade.”

You looked at him incredulously. “What the hell did I fucking drink, then?”

“Well, you see, I had this assignment in my Magical Botany II class, and one of the options was to create a botanical blend incorporating a magical plant we studied this semester. I’m a witch, so, easy A, duh.”

“Are you telling me I just drank a fucking potion?”

“Botanical blend!”

“Why would you put a potion in a fucking Gorgonade bottle?”

“Botanical blend!”

“Put it in a weird little vial with a ‘DO NOT DRINK: POTION’ label on it or something! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I ran out of glass jars last month! I’ve been meaning to run to the apothecary…”

“So you used a Gorgonade bottle?”

Kunhang cut in then, “Yangyang, what kind of potion was it? You said you had to create it; do you even know what it’s going to do to Y/N?”

“Well, I chose the lover’s embrace blossom as my plant.”

“Lover’s embrace…” you sighed, the vine immediately coming to mind. Mature plants bloomed flowers whose pollen would intoxicate those who breathed it in so they wouldn’t struggle while the vines ensnared them. You imagined it was exactly that pollen that the witch used. “Did I just drink a goddamn love potion? What the fuck were you planning on doing with a love potion, exactly, anyway?”

“We were supposed to bring them in to test their properties in the lab. And it’s not just a love potion... That already exists, I wanted to take mine to the next level. That’s why Kun’s here.”

The three of you finally looked over at the vampire again. He stared back at you, his deep red eyes feeling like they were piercing your very soul. You had to look away, back at Yangyang.

“The love potion is attuned specifically to him, theoretically. Vampires metabolize things so much faster, so their blood may make the effects more powerful, but it should burn right through you super fast, Y/N!” Yangyang tried to put a positive spin on it for you, but your jaw dropped in horror.

“I drank his blood?!” You screeched, your hand flying up to your mouth. It took everything in you to hold back gags at the thought.

“Just a couple drops, just a couple drops!” The witch tried very hard to backpedal.

Kunhang looked between you and Kun. “How long should it take to kick in, Yangyang?”

“Like five minutes.”

“And when did you drink that, Y/N?”

“An hour ago,” you informed him, the same realization seeming to dawn on the both of you.

“And… do you feel any different about Kun than before today?”

You looked at the vampire, feeling almost sheepish as you had to shake your head. Sure, the guy was attractive, but you definitely weren’t magically in love with him all of a sudden.

“No, I feel fine. Normal,” you clarified, turning to the witch. Giving Yangyang a shrug, you didn’t feel all that sorry as you told him, “Maybe your potion sucks.”

“No, it should definitely work!” Yangyang replied indignantly.

“Well I don’t feel anything!” You reiterated. “So congrats on your F, Yangyang!”

The witch huffed, brows furrowing as he looked you over. “Yeah, you’re not acting any different. What the fuck happened?”

“If that’s all, can you get the hell out?” Kunhang requested frankly. “We’re trying to study.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yangyang sighed. He turned back to the vampire, pointing to the exit dramatically, “Back to the drawing board, Kun!”

Kun still hadn’t moved from his spot as Yangyang was mostly out of the room, then popped his head back in.

“Y/N, you’ll tell me if anything changes, right?”

“I promise, you will be the first to know if your potion did anything weird to me,” you nodded firmly. “I will personally come over here and beat your ass for it.”

“I was thinking like a text or a phone call, but that works too I guess.” Yangyang gave you a thumbs up before disappearing from the room.

You held Kun’s gaze for an awkward moment, unsure why he was still here. Maybe you should apologize?

“Kun!” Yangyang called for him again, and the vampire finally looked away from you, walking out of Kunhang’s bedroom.

It was dark out when you eventually left Kunhang’s apartment, the review guide completed, and your brain just a little fried from all that math. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, and keys in hand, you took off down the sidewalk for the short walk back to your own home.

“Y/N.” A voice suddenly saying your name from right beside you made you jump out of your skin.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, clutching a hand to your chest. When you whipped around to see that it belonged to a familiar face, you took a deep breath before greeting him. “Uh, hi, Kun.”

He remained quiet.

You kept talking, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder to calm yourself down, “Sorry about all that back in Kunhang and Yangyang’s apartment, by the way. I know it was stupid of me to drink something in a witch’s fridge that tasted off. That part was on me.”

“Are you walking home?” He questioned, focus rather intense on you.

“Yeah, my apartment isn’t far.” You gestured in the vague direction of it.

A deep frown etched itself into his features, “By yourself? It’s rather late.”

“I know! What if another vampire sneaks up on me?” You gasped teasingly.

“Will you let me walk you home? Please?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, uh, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence. You shifted your bookbag from one shoulder to the other when your muscles got tired.

“Is that heavy?” Kun asked.

“I mean, kind of? My laptop’s in there, and a couple notebooks; Kunhang and I were doing this review packet for a Calc test,” you explained.

“I can carry it for you.” He held a hand out expectantly.

“Oh, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Uhm… okay.” You pulled the bag off your shoulder and handed it to him by the strap. Honestly, you wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if he ran off with it. Him robbing you seemed about as likely as him randomly offering to walk you home and carry your bag for you.

Kun effortlessly slipped the bookbag on. It looked out of place against his slacks and dress shirt/sweater combo, especially with your multiple cute character keychains that you had attached to the zipper.

He dutifully carried it all the way to your front door for you, where you gratefully took it back. You were very excited for tonight to be over. Between studying, the potion debacle, and now this incredibly awkward interaction, diving headfirst into your bed sounded like exactly what you needed.

“Thank you, Kun, I’m just going to—” You cut yourself off when you were finally able to see his face clearly in the security light outside your apartment door. His crimson irises were nearly gone, entirely swallowed by inky pupils, and he was pulling at his shirt almost as if he were fanning himself to cool down. “Oh my god, Kun, are you okay? Your pupils are… blown. I’d check your temperature, but I don’t think vampires can run a fever, can you?”

“I… I’m…” He didn’t even finish his sentence, biting down on his bottom lip, and holding up a finger in a gesture for you to wait a moment.

You didn’t know too much about vampires, nor whatever ailments they could possibly get afflicted with, but you did know somebody who probably would. Bringing your phone out from your pocket, you started flicking through your contacts list, “I feel like I should call Renjun. He’s a Magical Creatures Studies major. Uhm, he was able to figure out why Dejun stopped producing fire for a weird two weeks last year. He might be able to help. Here, let me—”

“No, I’m fine. I know what it is.”

“Oh. That’s good. What is it? Is there anything I can do?”

Kun straightened back up, hand going to smooth out the wrinkles in his sweater that he’d caused by pulling it at. “I believe Yangyang’s love potion was successful in a way he did not intend.”

“Kun, seriously, I don’t feel any—”

“I do.” He cut you off sternly, focusing his darkened eyes on yours.

“You…” You breathed out, eyes widening.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I apologize.” He bowed his head. “I tried to control it as best as I could. But yes, I suddenly started experiencing extremely strong romantic feelings for you earlier tonight.”

“O-Oh.”

“I should go, I’ve seen you home safely.”

“Right, uhm, goodnight, Kun,” you nodded to him, too stunned to say much else.

You clenched your jaw not to make a noise of surprise when he picked up one of your hands with his much colder one. He bent over nearly ninety degrees to press a feather-light to the back of your hand. If you had a free hand, you would’ve pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming yourself into a rom-com right now.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he gently let go of your hand before taking a step back from you.

After fumbling to unlock your door, you practically ran inside. Oh, you were going to kill Yangyang.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t immediately start your literal witch hunt the next day, as you had to take your Calculus exam. In fact, you had mostly forgotten your dilemma as you walked out of your classroom with Kunhang and Dejun, another friend of yours.

“How are you feeling, by the way, Y/N?” Kunhang checked in with you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “No sudden urge to dicked down by a va—”

You elbowed him in the side, sending him stumbling off in one direction as he cackled. “I’m fine, thanks for your concern.”

“What is he talking about?” Dejun raised an eyebrow, his slit pupils flicking between the two of you curiously.

“You really should’ve come to the study session last night, Dejun.” Kunhang jumped to relay the story to the dragon.

Dejun had the decency not to full-on laugh at you, but you did see a couple puffs of smoke come out of his nose as he tried to hold back his chuckles. “Yangyang needs to store his potions more responsibly.”

“Thank you!” You cried out, feeling vindicated.

“It seriously didn’t work at all? I mean, I don’t know what else was in there, but lover’s embrace pollen and vampire blood… sure sounds like it should’ve done something,” he mused aloud.

And that was when you sighed, “Well… it didn’t work on me.”

“And what does that mean?” Kunhang cocked his head to the side.

“Kun caught up to me after I left your apartment last night,” you confessed with a wince. “Somehow he’s the one that’s suddenly in love with me.”

“What?!” Kunhang grabbed your shoulder and shook you with equal amounts of disbelief and delight.

You swatted him away, “I don’t know! But I’m going to find Yangyang and see what the little twerp has to say for himself.”

“He should be getting out of Bot II in ten minutes.” Dejun pointed to a building off to your right. “Try to leave him in one piece, Y/N.”

“No promises.”

Kunhang and Dejun both had other classes to get to, leaving you to wait in front of the Earth Sciences building alone, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

“Y/N, hello.”

You spun around on your heel at the familiar voice, now face to face with deep red eyes and dark brown hair.

“Hey, Kun,” you greeted him. He didn’t seem as… unwell as last night. His crisp white button up was tucked neatly into his dark brown dress pants, and for a brief moment you wondered if he even owned casual clothes. Small gold earrings dangled from his lobes, glinting as they caught the dappled sunlight streaming in through the leaves above you.

Feeling hopeful, you asked, “So… how are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you for asking.” He kept his gaze on you as the two of you conversed. “I’m not, uhm, feverish anymore.”

“Oh, good,” you breathed a sigh of relief. So everything was back to normal then.

“I wanted to give you this.” In his hand was a folded piece of paper, and you accepted it from him curiously. It was crisp, fine quality, with a nice texture that you could feel as your fingers ran along the edges to unfold it.

Your eyes widened as you realized that he had just handed you a poem—a rather good one, if you were to be honest—written in an elegant script. After another quick skim just to make sure your reading comprehension was up to par, you knew that he didn’t just want your feedback on an assignment for class or something. This was a sonnet, if your recollection of your literature class from last semester was any good, about you. For you.

You looked up from the paper to Kun, offering him a nervous smile. “This is… really good, Kun. Uhm, are you busy right now?”

“I have another class in thirty minutes.”

“I’m waiting for Yangyang to get out of his class. He should be out any second. I think we should both talk to him.”

Kun nodded, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. You folded the paper back up and tucked it into a folder in your backpack.

Eventually, a new rush of students began streaming out of the doors, and you scanned the crowd for Yangyang.

As soon as you spotted him towards the back, you hurried over to head him off. “Liu Yangyang!”

“Oh, Y/N! And Kun…” He looked up from his phone at you two, clearly surprised. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oceanography in an hour. Why? Are you alright?”

Latching onto his forearm, you dragged him over to a more secluded spot of campus, Kun following behind. You relayed all the facts to the witch as quickly as possible, watching as he turned from confused to shocked.

“So it did work!” Yangyang declared brightly.

“Hey! Focus!” You said sternly. “You said that the vampire blood means it should burn up really quickly, right? So Kun’ll be back to normal soon?”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “If it was going to be a quick burn, it would have been over already.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kun’s the subject but you’re the vector—”

“Don’t call me that, it makes me sound like I gave him malaria or something.”

“I think—emphasis on think—that this is a two-factor potion.”

“A what?”

“Kun’s blood is doing two things: made it so that it’ll affect him, and by happenstance of him being a vampire, it makes it more powerful. And you drinking it does two things as well: since you drank it, you’re now the target of his affection, and because you’re a human, the potion itself is working through you, and humans metabolize that stuff much slower than say, a vampire.”

“So it’s supercharged and—relatively—super long lasting?”

“Is my guess.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, muttering under your breath, “Can this get any worse?”

Yangyang breathed in through his teeth, a rueful hissing sound. “Well—”

“Oh my god, that was supposed to be rhetorical, it does get worse?”

“It probably won’t even be an issue, Kun’s super old.”

“What does that even mean, Yangyang?”

“Well, younger vampires have a difficult time controlling how much they feed because all kinds of want sort of feel the same to them. Hunger, thirst, jealousy, attraction…”

“I’m living a fucking Twilight novel...” You threw your hands up, then pointed threateningly at him. “I am absolutely going to kick your ass.”

Yangyang held his hands up in front of him defensively, starting to back away from you, “But Kun’s hundreds of years old, so that’s totally not gonna be a problem! Right, Kun?”

Finally, you looked back over to the vampire, who had been silent through this entire confrontation.

“I don’t even live feed anymore,” Kun confirmed. “Y/N, I would never hurt you.”

You knew what he meant. There were other options for vampires now besides drinking blood from a live source, donor bags or synthetic blood replacements. To your understanding, vampires were fairly divided when it came to which they preferred—if they even had a preference at all, some didn’t care as long as they were fed, to those ones it was really whatever was cheapest and easiest at the time.

“Of course, Kun.” You nodded in understanding.

When you turned to give Yangyang one last piece of your mind, the witch was nowhere to be seen. He’d run off while you were distracted. How very mature.

“Alright, well, I’ve uh,” you checked the time on your phone. “I’ve got another class to get to. So, see you.”

“Can I walk you there?”

You had just spun on your heel to leave when he asked that, and it took everything in you not to show your ‘drats!’ expression on your face when you twisted back around to talk to give him some excuse. “Sorry, Kun, I really need to call my mom on the way there. I forgot to on my way to class this morning.”

“Oh.” His face fell, making you wince. It was sweet, but you knew that he was under the effects of a love potion, so really what was the point of entertaining any of this if it was all against his will? If at the end of all of this he would go back to feeling literally no specific way about you? And you’d look like the weirdo for indulging in it.

To his credit, he accepted your (bullshit) reason easily. “Of course, you should call your mother. I’ll see you sometime after class, maybe, then.”

“Maybe, yeah.” You wanted to slap yourself as soon as the words were out of your mouth. But it got you out of there quickly, as he seemed to like this answer, giving you half a smile, nodding, and not saying anything more as you took off towards the building that housed your next class. You were going to be about forty minutes early for it, but it was better than staying out there with Kunspeare at the moment.

Walking into the student union building after your second class, you meandered around until you finally spotted three familiar heads at a table in a far corner of the third floor. You plopped down into the open seat beside Ten.

“Were you guys hiding from me or something?” You scoffed, snatching a fry from Kunhang’s plate in front of you.

“Yeah, because I was hoping to eat all my own food this time,” the gryphon rolled his eyes, but made no move to stop you as you took another fry.

The siren beside you was drawing in one of his many sketchbooks—he was an art major—and you peered over his shoulder to see what he was working on. The whole spread was filled with pencil sketches at various stages of completion, angles, and facial expressions of what seemed like your entire little friend group: you, Kunhang, Dejun, Yangyang, and the final creature that was sitting at your table now, Sicheng.

Sicheng’s fiery orange and yellow eyes looked at you analytically as the phoenix sipped on his fountain drink. He set it down to look at you with a cocked head, curious. “Why were you so late, Y/N?”

“I had to make sure the coast was clear.”

“Oh, do you have a little bloodsucking stalker?” Kunhang asked in understanding.

“He’s not stalking me, he’s been very unfortunately, unconsentingly—on both our parts—put under the effects of a love potion. I don’t fault him for that, okay?”

Ten and Sicheng exchanged bewildered looks.

“God, Kunhang, did you not already tell them? I thought you would’ve gone around blabbing this hilarious story to everyone we know by now!” You snipped at him, dreading the thought of having to relive the mortification of retelling the events of last night over again.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to?” He bickered back without missing a beat. “I’ll go get on the PA system right now.”

You shot him a glare before delving into the gist of it yourself. “Long story short, last night I was over at Kunhang and Yangyang’s. Qian Kun was there too, Yangyang’s vampire… friend? Acquaintance? Anyway, Yangyang made a love potion and like an idiot, put it in their fridge in a Gorgonade bottle then left it unattended. I accidentally drank it, and now Kun is in love with me because his blood was in the potion.”

Their jaws dropped in unison.

“Uhm—” Sicheng didn’t seem to know where he was going with that, scratching the back of his head before picking his soda back up.

“Anyway, this man has gone like full 18th-century courting or whatever on me.” You held your head in your hands, replaying the moment of him handing you the poem in your mind.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Kunhang pretended to swoon.

“Haha, you should do stand-up,” you said sarcastically. “Seriously, what am I supposed to say when he hands me a goddamn sonnet? ‘Thanks, sick poem, bestie?’”

“He wrote you a sonnet? Where is it? Can I read it?”

“I would sooner let Ten drown me than let you read a sonnet that…” you sighed, your voice getting smaller and smaller with each word, “describes the shape of my lips.”

You shuddered at the thought of your friend ever laying eyes upon something like that. He would never let you live it down.

“Aw come on Y/N!”

“Too late, I already burned it!” You stuck your tongue out at Kunhang, who just did it right back.

“Have you given him anything, Y/N?” Ten spoke up, setting his pencil down.

“I am not writing him a sonnet, Ten.”

“I don’t mean like that. I mean, have you done any sort of reciprocity? Given him any information about yourself? Engaged with him, genuinely, on any level at all?” He paused then, and you slowly shook your head. Your friend’s ocean blue scales shimmered just beneath the skin of his cheekbones as he turned in his seat to face you, reflective gold eyes focused on you. “Look, I know he’s under the love potion and you’re not, and I’m not saying you have to treat these as sincere romantic advances from him. But maybe try to approach them at least as genuine opportunities for human connection. Or, human-vampire connection. You know what I mean.”

You scrunched your nose up thoughtfully. “I haven’t really thought about it like that. Huh...”

“I think if you at least give him a little nudge about the stuff that you do like, he’ll stop writing you sonnets.”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s just going to keep courting you for the duration of the potion, Y/N, whether you want him to or not. Might as well get a car out of it or something,” Kunhang suggested through a mouthful of fries.

“I am not going to exploit him like that!” You scoffed. “And swallow before you talk! You’re going to get gross food bits on me!”

Sicheng wordlessly handed Kunhang a napkin.

After your last class of the day, you stopped at the top of the stairs of the Math and Computer Sciences building. If Kun didn’t mysteriously show up now, you figured you could easily get his number from Kunhang or Yangyang—though that would be inviting a whole slew of other issues.

But you didn’t have to worry about that. Just as you thought, you spotted Kun approaching from the direction of the Literature, Writing, and History building. To be absolutely certain, you waved at him, and he lifted a hand back, putting on a slight burst of speed. You walked down the steps to meet him at the bottom.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you as he finally stopped in front of you.

“Hi, Kun,” you offered him a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.”

“Did you just finish class?”

“Yeah, Number Theory. What about you?”

“Contemporary Creative Non-Fiction. Are you a mathematics major?”

You nodded. “Unfortunately. Thinking about switching. Though my mom might kill me if I do, that’d be the third time in two years.”

“Do you not like math?”

“I like it just fine, I’m being dramatic with the ‘unfortunately’ part. I just don’t know if I like it enough to do it for the rest of my life,” you shrugged.

Kun smiled at that. “Well, take it from me. You never have to do one thing for the rest of your life. However long that may be.”

You cocked your head at that. There were more questions you wanted to ask him. He was several hundred years old, and going to college, very possibly not for the first time. He’d most certainly studied and done and seen other stuff, and you wanted to hear about it. Ten’s suggestion came to mind. An opportunity for a genuine connection.

“Do you eat food, Kun?” You asked.

“Yes, sometimes. I don’t need it to live like you, but I do enjoy it on occasion.”

“I was about to go to this bakery that I really like. Do you want to come?”

“I would love nothing more,” he answered simply, and you could hear his earnest sincerity in his words.

Kun held the door to Half Moon Bakery open for you, and you thanked him quietly as you stepped through. The warm, sweet smells immediately wafted to your nose as you walked in. A couple of customers were sitting at the small tables they had, but your eyes were on the display cases filled with loaves of bread, muffins, and baked sweet treats.

“Oh hi Y/N!” The familiar cashier behind the counter greeted you brightly, his eyes turning into crescents with his smile.

“Hey, Jeno. How are you?” You pulled your gaze from the food to beam back at him.

“I’m great! Ooh, we’ve got a new limited-edition brownie, it’s got mini peanut butter cups and swirls of peanut butter!” The werewolf informed you excitedly, and you could practically imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind him.

“Was that your idea?” You asked knowingly.

“I might have suggested something…”

“Of course you did.” You chuckled. “It sounds good, but I’m just going to get a—”

“A matcha cream-filled croissant. I know.” Jeno finished your usual order knowingly. He then looked to Kun curiously, “And what about you?”

“A blueberry lemon scone, please. And I’ll pay for both.”

You were about to object, to insist on paying for your own food, but stopped yourself. Reciprocity. You’d have to walk this line carefully, but you guessed you’d have a harder time trying to get Kun to not pay for your food, and really your goal was to stop getting sonnets from the guy.

Jeno immediately grabbed your croissant from the case and handed it to you on a small dish painted to look like a waxing moon. Kun’s scone had to be warned up, so the two of you sat down while you waited for it to be brought out.

“So do you come here a lot?” Kun asked.

“Yeah, usually like… once a week probably?” You guessed. “I used to come three times a week last semester, between these two Monday-Wednesday-Friday classes I had. They were two hours apart so I couldn’t quite go home, but I hated staying on campus during that time. So I’d usually come here, get a matcha croissant, do some homework or whatever. That’s how I know Jeno.”

“It’s lovely here. I can see why you like it.” The vampire appraised, looking around at the celestial themed décor.

“Wait until you try the food. Then you’ll really understand why I like it so much.”

Jeno came out then with Kun’s order on a half-moon painted dish, setting it down in front of him. Once the werewolf was back behind the counter, you eagerly picked up your croissant and bit into it. Immediately, you had found the creamy center, a happy noise coming from the back of your throat.

Setting the pastry down, you looked back at Kun, feeling a bit self-conscious when you realized that he hadn’t started eating yet and was instead watching you eat.

“What, Kun?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, a tender smile on his lips. “I think that what you did just now was very cute.”

You crossed your arms and leaned your elbows forward on the table. “Fine. If you’re going to stare at me while I eat, I’m going to stare at you while you eat. Go on, take a bite.”

The vampire picked up the scone. “I suppose that is only fair. I don’t think I’ll be nearly as adorable as you were, however.”

Fighting back the flustered smile threatening to overtake your features, you instead laced your hands together in a business-like manner. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Kun didn’t argue further, bringing the baked good to his mouth. He took a bite, and you watched eagerly as his expression changed into one of surprised delight. After swallowing, he wiped his mouth then spoke again.

“That is… exquisite.”

“I know.”

“Now I really do understand why you come here so frequently.”

“Uh-huh,” you grinned cockily, picking your croissant back up.

Once he got over his initial shock of how good the scone was, Kun engaged you in conversation. “So how is your mother?”

Right. Your supposed phone call that you had to make earlier. Well, time to fib a little. “Oh, she’s good. She’s trying to grow an herb garden, not going so well.”

Not a complete lie, that’s what she had told you when you called her last week. Hopefully your heart rate didn’t jump enough to make Kun suspicious if he was paying close attention.

“I’m glad you got to speak with her.”

The wistful look on Kun’s face made you briefly wonder about his family. Were they vampires too? When was the last time he got to speak to his mom?

“Is your mom…?”

“My mother passed quite some time ago. She remained a human. My father too.”

“I’m sorry, Kun.”

“For what?”

You frowned as you tried to think of an answer. What were you sorry for? His parents passing? Asking that question in the first place? “I… don’t know. I just am. That’s usually what we say when we hear that somebody passed away, you know? ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’”

“I passed away too. How else would I have become a vampire?” He pointed out, lightening the mood a little.

“Well then I’m sorry for your loss of you.” You laughed, earning a chuckle from Kun as well.

“Thank you. The sentiments are greatly appreciated.”

“So what are you studying, Kun? You said you had come from a non-fiction class? Was that lit or writing?”

“Contemporary Creative Non-Fiction. It was literature. I’m an Interdisciplinary major, one of my concentrations is Literature.”

“And the other?”

“History.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “That just doesn’t sound fair to the other students. Or the professor.”

He smiled a little. “I am doing the Ancient History track. I’m not that old.”

“Speaking of—” You reclined back in your seat to study the vampire leisurely. “This can’t be your first time going to university. Right?”

“You’re correct, this is not. I have been before.”

“How many times?”

Kun hesitated. “It would be impolite for me to answer. I’m afraid it’d sound like bragging.”

“Kun, let’s make a deal.” You shifted forward again, holding his dark red gaze unwaveringly. “I understand that you have been alive for a few hundred years and have therefore experienced more things than I could possibly imagine. That’s exactly why I’m asking you these questions. So how about you trust that when I ask you a question, it’s because I have thought about it, and have decided that I really do want to know your honest answer, no matter how braggy it might sound. And I will trust that your answer is sincere and honest and not meant to be a brag in any way shape or form, and that you have really just lived your life for so long. Does that sound good?”

At the end of your proposition, you stuck your hand out in the middle of the table, waiting. Kun eyed it for a moment before sucking in a deep breath, taking your hand in his cool grasp, and shaking it.

“I accept the terms of your proposal, Y/N.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you grinned at him, taking your hand back. “Now, tell me about your three hundred degrees or whatever.”

“It’s not that many, really,” he seemed almost flustered, readjusting his collar for a moment. “And I’m not sure if I can remember all of them off the top of my head.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“Let me see… I have gone to medical school.”

“Oh wow—”

“But that was when bloodletting was still an accepted practice, I haven’t been lately.” Kun admitted sheepishly, drumming his fingers on the table as he thought some more. “Then there was astronomy, Latin, mathematics, musical composition, psychology, literature the first time, and I started law school but then the war happened…”

“War?” You echoed in bewilderment.

“I didn’t participate,” he assured you, as if that was the only thing you were possibly confused about. “But it did disrupt my studies. I never ended up going back, which is alright, I didn’t care much for law.”

“Don’t you get bored of it all? I mean, you must be a pro at everything there is.”

“No, not at all. They’re always creating new things to do.”

At your surely skeptical look, Kun continued eagerly, “For example, I learned to oil paint two hundred years ago, but there’s digital painting now. I learned how to sail a hundred years ago, but there are planes to fly now. I can play practically every instrument in a classical orchestra, but there are entirely new ways to make music that are contained completely within a computer, that I have to learn programs, software, new tools to compose on. It’s wonderful. That’s why I like to go back to school, there’s always new fields emerging, new things to learn. And even the fields that I have already have degrees in, like medicine, have made leaps and bounds since the last time I studied.”

His face was bright and animated as he raved about all of this to you, and you felt a fond smile tug at the corner of your mouth as you listened. His perspective was so… refreshing. You had honestly expected more nihilism and angst from a several hundred year old vampire who already held at least half a dozen degrees and had witnessed who knows how many historical events. But it seemed that all those years had done was make him eager to live even more.

“And you’re not... exhausted by that idea? That you’ll never be done with everything?”

“No, not at all,” he cocked his head to the side. “If I finished everything now, that’d make for a very boring eternity.”

“I like that, Kun,” you declared, picking your croissant up. “I really do.”

“Y/N, while I am very glad that you invited me out with you, and I hope you don’t take this as any sort of complaint, I am wondering…” Kun tapped his fingernail against the side of his plate as he seemed to be thinking of how to phrase whatever he wanted to ask next. “You seemed rather… freaked out last night. I do know that you and I don’t know each other well, the love potion didn’t erase my memories. I also understand that what I’m feeling is the effects of a potion. So, why the change of heart on your part?”

After swallowing the bite you’d just taken, you sighed, setting your pastry back down. “For one, I don’t want to be needlessly cruel to you. Even if you are under a love potion, I don’t think that’s an excuse to be rude and dismissive. And, I admittedly don’t know a lot about vampires. I think I’ve only met like one before. I just wanted to talk to you. Is that… okay?”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly. “Of course. I already agreed, you can ask me whatever you want.”

“Great. Because I’ve been thinking, can you get sued for turning somebody who didn’t want to be turned? Would that be a wrongful death case? Or… wrongful life?”

Kun looked at you with something that you could only call astonished adoration. His jaw dropped before his features split into a wide grin, and his shoulders started shaking as he was overtaken by giggles that he then tried to cover with his hand.

“It’s a real question!” You tried to be indignant, but you were far too surprised and endeared by the image of the previously stoic and mature vampire breaking down into giggles in front of you.

He straightened back up, physically wiping the smile off of his face. “Of course, of course it is. Please don’t think I was doing anything less than taking you seriously. I’m just… delighted by how your mind works. I’ve had plenty of people question me about vampires and being a vampire, and that has never been one of their go-to questions. Or any of their questions at all. I’m looking forward to what else you’ll ask me.”

“Well, you need to answer this one first before you can get to any of my other galaxy-brain level questions I’ve got in here.” You tapped your temple sarcastically.

“You’re right, my apologies.” Kun laced his fingers together and leaned forward against the table. “I’m not sure about the civil liability of turning someone against their will, I would have to do some research before I’d be comfortable answering your question. However, governments have tried to criminalize the turning of vampires over the years, to mixed results. Right now, it is illegal to turn someone against their will.”

“How do you prove that someone was turned willingly or not?”

“Unicorns of course help investigations to some degree. I’ve also seen some vampires have their prospective fledglings sign contracts.”

“Pfff,” you couldn’t help the burst of laughter that you let out. “Now that just takes all the romance out of it.”

“The contracts are usually only between service vampires and their clientele.”

“I’m sorry, service vampires?” You repeated incredulously.

“Those that turn others in exchange for financial compensation.”

“Sorry, I should really start paying attention when Renjun goes on his tangents, he’s probably talked about this before. Then you wouldn’t have to give me an impromptu lecture on the socioeconomic standing of vampires in modern day.”

“I don’t mind. I enjoy spending time with you, Y/N.”

You fidgeted with a napkin, looking away from his suddenly too-intense eyes. “Uhm— it’s just that term made it sound like they were escorts or something.”

“Some are,” he replied casually. “Service vampires are a heavily regulated industry, since they’re also responsible for the fledgling they produce, ensuring they don’t kill anybody. That process requires more than a contract, you need a lot of trust to help them control their desires. That trust goes both ways, of course, so those who aren’t service vampires—which is most vampires—will only turn close family and friends.”

You looked back up at him, squinting your eyes inquisitively. “Have you turned anybody, Kun?”

He pressed his lips together for a pensive moment before he answered. “I’ve… considered it. But by the time I had found someone who I could contemplate eternity with, I’d already seen far too many fledglings, too many turnings that went horribly wrong. I understood the risk, but I wasn’t sure if they did. And that was also at a time when vampires themselves weren’t outright illegal, but fledglings were to be killed on sight.”

“Oh— Oh, God.” You breathed out.

“Mature vampires were considered to be in control of our feedings, fledglings weren’t. And, they didn’t really want us going around making more of us.”

“The person you were going to turn…”

Kun looked up at a silver star decoration hanging above your table. “It ended up being for the best, I suppose. We parted ways some years later, less than amicably.”

“Ugh, I couldn’t imagine having to have awkward run-ins with your ex for literally forever,” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

He laughed. “Yes, I do actually have some old friends who were married before they turned several centuries ago but the diocese that performed the marriage in the first place won’t divorce them because they’re technically dead and therefore don’t have mortal souls anymore. By their logic.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth in disbelief. “Oh my God, so they’re just begrudgingly married for eternity?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “They still get together to celebrate their anniversary every 100 years.”

“That’s nice, I guess.”

After finishing your food up at the bakery, Kun walked you back to your apartment—you weren’t sure if it was chivalry, a genuine concern for your wellbeing, or a combination of both—and now you were once again at your front door.

“Thank you again, Kun, for paying,” you said, fishing your keys out from your backpack.

“I was happy to. Thank you for inviting me to come with you. I enjoyed our discussion a lot.”

You focused your gaze on the keys in your hand. “Me too.”

“Are you busy this weekend?”

“I’m hanging out with a couple friends tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ve got anything going on Sunday. Why?”

“I want to keep spending time with you. As much as you’ll let me, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, right.” You could feel yourself warming up at his candidness. “Uhm, sure, we can do something on Sunday. Did you have anything in mind?”

Kun had almost a mischievous smile on his face. “Would you mind terribly if I surprised you?”

You sputtered out a laugh. “You’re asking if you can surprise me?”

“Some people don’t care for surprises. And I’m not telling you what it is, just that I would like to keep it a surprise, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, Kun, you can surprise me. On one condition.”

“Of course, anything.”

“Bring me your favorite book you’ve read recently.”

He tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Pardon me?”

“On Sunday, wherever we go, I want you to bring me your favorite book that you’ve read in the past…” you ruminated on how you wanted to quantify ‘recent’ for a vampire, and finally settled on, “…year. You’re half a Lit major, so I’m assuming you own least one or two.”

“Yeah, I think I might’ve read a couple here or there,” he chuckled. “I will bring you one.”

“Not just any one, your favorite, remember?”

“Of course.”

Satisfied that he understood your request, you stuck your apartment key in your lock. “Goodnight, Kun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” The vampire once again took your free hand in his delicate, cool grasp, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your fingers before letting it go.

You paused for just a moment, feeling as though you should say something. But there were no words that came to mind, so you instead unlocked your apartment and disappeared through the door with one last wave over your shoulder to him.

“You’re going on a date with him?” Kunhang scoffed in disbelief from the living room.

“Did you not just hear what I said?” You pushed his head as you walked by to take your seat on the floor around Sicheng and Ten’s coffee table. “We’re hanging out.”

“Sounds like a bad idea...” Your friend muttered, grabbing his beer and taking a swig of it.

“Coming from the guy who suggested I try to get a car out of him.”

“Yeah, a car. Not a date. No strings attached.”

“You’re insane,” you rolled your eyes, trying to turn your focus to the phoenix on your left, who was shuffling the stack of cards.

You, Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were over at Ten and Sicheng’s place for a board game night, which of course couldn’t pass by without a comment or two about your current love potion predicament. And when you had tried to fill Ten in on how your attempt to take his advice was going, your gryphon friend had to add in his two cents.

“Coming from the girl who is going on a date with someone who is high on love potion.”

“I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to talk to vampires that are hundreds of years old, excuse me for wanting to chat.” You accepted your stack of cards from Sicheng gracefully, then turned back to glaring daggers at Kunhang. “It’s not a date.”

He was firm on his stance. “I’m telling you: This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? Because I’m feeding into his delusion or something? He’s going to be in love with me until the love potion wears off, whether I—”

“Because I think you’re going to hurt yourself, Y/N. You’re too soft for this. Being constantly wooed for who knows how long? You don’t think that’s going to do anything to you?” Kunhang sighed, grey eyes focused on you from across the table.

You held his gaze for a moment, eyes still narrowed at him. Then, you looked away, grabbing a handful of the snacks you’d just retrieved from the kitchen. “I know it’s not real. Can we just start the fucking game? Or does everybody have an opinion on my life that they want to share?”

Ten, Sicheng, Dejun, and Yangyang all looked at each other, then simultaneously shook their heads. Ten went back to passing out the in-game currency to everyone, and you refused to look up at Kunhang despite the lingering feeling of his eyes on you.

Later on, between the conclusion of the first game and the set-up of the next, you were laying on the ground in an attempt to realign your back that had been hurting from the unfortunate hunch that you’d been sitting with. A couple others had dispersed to do various tasks, while Dejun and Sicheng stuck behind in the living room to step up the next game. They were quietly conferring over the instructions as you readjusted the positioning of your shoulders, sighing as one specific part of your back relaxed into a gentle cracking sound.

“Y/N,” Dejun got your attention.

“Hm?” You replied, too comfortable now to get up all the way yet.

“He means well.”

“…Bluebeard?” You asked in confusion, referencing the next game you were about to play, a board-gamified version of the Bluebeard’s Castle fairytale.

“No, Kunhang,” the dragon clarified. “He has every right to be a little worried about you hanging out with Kun tomorrow.”

You sighed again. “I know. I’m going to apologize to him. I just… need to be mad tonight. If I try to apologize today, I’m going to get pissed again and the wrong thing will come out and I’ll just make it worse. We’ve been friends for a few years now, we both need to sleep it off before either of us try to apologize.”

“So… are you still going to see Kun tomorrow?” It was Sicheng that asked you that.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you thought about it. Maybe the smart thing would be to cancel. But you’d already asked him to bring you a book, and you were sure he’d been carefully contemplating that request ever since. Not to mention that you were excited to see him, actually. He was interesting to talk to. You’d met lots of magical creatures, all the ones that you were currently with for starters, but there was something both simultaneously refreshing and homey about talking to Kun, finding out more about him.

“Yeah, I am,” you declared, though you’d known that there was no changing your mind about it. “Don’t worry, guys. Like I said, I know it’s not real. To me, we’re just two buds hanging out. Promise.”

A knock on your door pulled you off your couch the next day. Readjusting your outfit for a brief moment, you then swung it open. The exact vampire you were expecting was on the other side, a heart-stopping smile on his face, bouquet of flowers in one hand, and small wrapped gift in the other.

“Oh, oh wow,” you breathed out, accepting the flowers from him. It was a gorgeous arrangement of yellow tulips and white baby’s breath, simple but enchanting. “Thank you, Kun.”

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Yeah, good morning,” you said distractedly, eyes still focused on the flowers. You looked up at him again, giving him a bashful smile, “Uhm, here, I need to put these in some water.”

Leaving the door open for him, you turned to go back into your apartment, but were stopped by Kun’s voice.

“Ah, Y/N.”

“Hm?”

He was still standing on the welcome mat outside, hands clasped behind his back. “I need to be invited in.”

“Oh, right, sorry! Kun, please come in.”

“Thank you.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“So, how does that work with school and going to class? Like, do you just have to be invited into each building or is it each classroom? What about professors’ offices? Is there like a special vampire-only orientation where the president of the college invites all the new vampire students everywhere or something?” You asked him over your shoulder as you moved further into your apartment, your destination being your kitchen.

“The rules are a little fluid, but our university is a public institution, so I don’t have to be invited in anywhere.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a lot less funny than my idea.”

“Yours was very efficient,” Kun tried to placate you as you busied yourself with rooting through your cabinets.

“So what about if you went to a private university?”

“I’ve been to one private university before. However, it was run by vampires, so the owners were dead and therefore nobody needed to be invited in anywhere.”

“Huh. And my apartment?” You knelt down to check under the sink. “I was able to invite you in, but I don’t own it, I rent. Shouldn’t my landlord have been the only one to be able to invite you in?”

Kun had an answer for that one too. “Owner and/or current legal occupant who is there with the owner’s permission can invite vampires in.”

“So my lease lets me invite supernatural creatures inside, but I can’t paint,” you rolled your eyes.

Finally, you secured your lone glass vase at the back of the cabinet under the sink, behind a couple bottles of cleaning products.

“What color would you paint the walls, if you could paint?”

You filled the vase up under the faucet. “Probably a different color in each room. Dark green in the living room, goldenrod in the kitchen, something like that. I don’t know, the neutral beige grey is so boring. Especially with the fake grey hardwood.”

He smiled at you. “Very colorful. I like that.”

Having finally gotten the flowers in water, you turned back to accept the package wrapped in simple brown paper and twine. Curiously undoing the small twine bow first, then tearing the paper open, you saw that it was an old, thick, leatherbound book, and trailed your finger over to read the spine.

“The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes?” You tilted your head. “This is your...”

Kun went to try to explain, gesturing to a couple small yellow tabs poking out of the pages. “I bookmarked just a couple that I think you’ll like—”

“Kun, I asked for your favorite from the past year, not two centuries ago!” You guffawed.

“Hey, I’ve re-read these in the past year! You didn’t say they had to be published in the past year, just my favorite that I’ve read this year, and this is it. But if you’re dissatisfied—”

“Nope! No take-backs!” You clutched the book to your chest protectively. “I’ll read them. Or, at least the bookmarked ones. I don’t know if I’ll get to them all in this lifetime.”

There was suddenly an unpleasant frown on Kun’s face, a crease forming between his brows. The teasing faded from your demeanor as you set the book down on your kitchen counter beside the vase of flowers.

“Kun? What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered that you’re human, and you know… you won’t… be here forever like I will.”

“Oh, Kun… I’m okay with that.” You reassured him, squeezing his arm.

“I know. Let’s… I don’t want to think about it anymore. Are you ready to go?” His voice was tight, the smile that flashed across his face not reaching his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah!” You grabbed your bag, then gestured for Kun to lead the way.

It was a lovely spring day, and you delighted in the still cool breeze tickling your nose as warm sun shone down on you. The streets downtown were bustling with life, and you pressed close to Kun to make sure you didn’t lose him in the crowd. You were almost knocked into by three smaller figures, a young dryad, phoenix, and human all playing tag. The dryad seemed to be It, shooting out a vine to wrap around the human kid’s waist and yanking him back. The human giggled as his friend wrapped his arms around him tight. The phoenix noticed the lack of her friends and darted back to meet them, a couple soft down feathers falling off the bridge of her nose in the process. You smiled fondly as you skirted around them and continued down the sidewalks.

“Cute,” you commented absentmindedly.

Kun’s eyes lingered on the children for another moment before he turned his gaze forwards again. “Sometimes I really do have to stop and look at where we are.”

“What...” You trailed off as you realized what he must be thinking of. “Oh, yeah. You remember what it was like before humans and magical beings lived together like this, right?”

It was before your time, but humans, magical creatures, and even different kinds of magical creatures all lived separately. You knew bits and pieces, that the kind of integration that you’d grown up with was rather recent. You had your fair share of older relatives who regarded your magical friends with thinly veiled suspicion and mistrust throughout your life.

“Yes, I do. At least, from when I was alive onwards, and I know stories from those older than I am.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“I think that to start, it’s important to think of a spectrum of non-magical to magical that all kinds of life fall somewhere along, and not an either/or. Humans are on the furthest end of the non-magical, but they can become magical.”

“Like becoming a vampire.”

“Correct.”

“Like you.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, I’m following so far.”

“Witches were previously just considered humans that can use magic.”

You snickered. “I know a few witches who would smite you for that, but sure, I’ve heard that before.”

“Obviously, with recent advancements in the study of magic, we know that’s not true.” Kun stopped the two of you to wait at a crosswalk signal. “But generally, it’s been easier for humans to accommodate magical beings that looked more like them over the years.”

“Closer to them on the non-magic to magic spectrum.” You related it back to his framework.

“Right. Humans were more likely to live with magical beings that looked less outlandish, and posed less of a threat to them.”

“Odd predicament for vampires, then. You look almost just like humans, used to be humans, but before blood supplements, you almost exclusively had to feed off humans.”

“Hence the... tangled and tense history of humans and vampires. I can’t really give a clear story of humans and vampires. It’s messy, depending on the time, society, village, individual family that you look at. And then of course, all magical creatures don’t get along either.”

“Dryads and dragons.” You listed off an old rivalry you knew off the top of your head. Historically, dryads despised dragons’ tendency to burn down their forests and fields.

“Right.”

“Fairies and… everyone.”

Kun chuckled. “Yeah, exactly. But the most recent history, here, now, is that mass integration to create the society that you know really came about around a hundred years ago. Witches and humans had been living together for a while, with some dryads, fairies, and even the odd vampire here and there. Then sirens, and gryphons, and phoenixes… I mean, the first human to see a dragon around here is probably still alive, you know?”

“And I just got annihilated at board game night by one yesterday.”

“Like I said... Sometimes I feel the need to just stop and take it all in.”

The crosswalk signal changed then, and the vampire with you briefly looked both ways before guiding you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

You looked over at him curiously, wishing that you could see any hint of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. “What about when you were turned, Kun? Were vampires... Your parents were still humans... Was it hard for you?”

“I wasn’t living with my parents when I became a vampire. Which was for the best, truly, so there was no chance of me hurting them. But…” He paused, and when you looked over at him, he was looking up at the sky. “I remember when I was a young boy, and I was so small, and the world was too big. And when I was hurt, my mother would take me into her arms and tell me it would all be okay, and I believed her. I just knew it would be because she was there. Because my mother was with me and she was bigger than me, bigger than the whole world. I remember wishing I could’ve had her there then.”

Your eyes had gotten a little misty, and you reached up to dab at them with the back of your hand. Kun’s voice wavered in just the slightest, and you felt your chest tighten at just how strongly he still felt all these emotions after so long.

“Didn’t the person who turned you take care of you? When you were turning, and as a fledgling? Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”

“I was turned by a friend. I got hurt, very badly, and he panicked and couldn’t think of how else to save me. He was a very young vampire at the time, he had only been turned himself five years earlier. I was the first person he’d ever turned, he didn’t know what to do, how to take care of me.” Kun relayed all this to you very matter-of-factly, as if it’d happened to somebody else.

“So did you have any choice about it?”

He looked over at you with a serene look on his face. “No. But if I spend the rest of my immortal life mourning the measly forty or fifty years that I would’ve gotten at the time, that would make for a miserable eternity. Every choice that we make or don’t make creates a new life for ourselves, and yes, sometimes for others. And if we constantly mourn all those lives we never got to live, we’ll never have time to live the one that we do have.”

The fist that your hand had curled into over the unjustness of Kun’s turning, relaxed as he continued speaking. You took a deep breath to recenter yourself.

“And your mother? Your father?”

“I saw them some time after I turned. And… it wasn’t any different. They were still my parents.” He smiled, it was bittersweet, but filled with heart, with love. “And I believed again that it would all be okay.”

“And… has it been?” You asked, head tilted curiously. Could a vampire even define such a long life as ‘okay’ or not?

Kun looked down from the sky at you this time, his features turning soft, fond. “More than.”

Kun finally stopped you on a less busy street, all old buildings, stone and brick faces. The one in particular that you were in front of had no distinguishing signage out front, and you peered around curiously for any hint as to what the six-floor building you were looking at was possibly used for. The windows were tinted too darkly for you to see in, and the ornately carved dark wooden door held no clue as to its identity other than the street number, 101.

Your companion pulled on the large iron handle to hold the door open for you. Well, you did give him permission to surprise you, you certainly couldn’t complain about not knowing what was going on. So, you stepped in.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the air around you became noticeably cooler. Not uncomfortably so, just feeling almost as if you were a basement, the sort of coolness of being underground. You were in a lobby, a woman sitting behind a counter reading a book that looked even older than the one Kun had given you. She looked about your parents’ age, some grey streaked in her hair. But you realized that assessment meant nothing, as her eyes flashed red in the warm, dim light when she glanced up from her book to the two of you.

“Good morning,” Kun greeted her, and stepped up to the counter to hold a small black card the size of a business card out to her.

She took it, skimming the front and back for all of one second before handing it back to him. Without a word, she went back to reading.

“Come on.” Kun ushered you further into the building, through the black velvet curtain past the desk.

This time, you emerged in a much larger room. There were no lights, but it was still illuminated by an old-school movie projector casting a grainy, black and white scene on the opposite wall. You watched as a woman in clothes that you couldn’t even pinpoint the timeframe of—other than definitely not being from the past century at least—walked, turned, and waved at the camera. The clip then replayed from the beginning by itself, no manual rewinding necessary.

You rewatched the short two-second clip again with delight before you turned to Kun. “What is this place?”

“It’s a gallery, of sorts,” he explained, gesturing to the video. “A group of vampires all got together and compiled videos, movies, films, kinetoscopes—every sort of moving image you can imagine—that they had been holding onto over their lifetimes. And they’re all on display here.”

“Kun, this is so cool!” You gasped.

“I think we all—non-vampires and vampires alike—tend to have this idea of vampires as being stuck in whenever they were turned. You know, a vampire turned in the 16th century is treated the same way we treat a painting from the 16th century. Like we’re... artifacts or something. And we’re not, we lived through everything else that came after we turned too. We’re not dead history, we’re living, moving history.” Kun had led you into another room of the gallery as he spoke, where a clip of a busy street market was repeating. “I think this is a good reminder of that. The oldest stuff is on the bottom from the invention of the camera, and the newest up at the top. It goes all the way to the present, digital. The top floor isn’t finished, they’ll keep adding to it as the years go by, as we all keep living through history.”

You watched the market, vendors and customers, families, horses, produce, rugs and wares. Just a microcosm of everyday life from whenever and wherever this was. A peek into moving history.

“Do you have anything here?” You asked, curious if you’d be able to see any microcosm of Kun’s life.

He shook his head. “No. I couldn’t decide what to submit. Too many options. If you ever see my home, you’ll understand that I... I tend to hoard.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You watched Kun’s face this time as he was focused on the moving picture. His features were lit softly from the front, cast in the same black and white as the image, except for his earnest, lively scarlet eyes.

The sun was just setting when you finally returned to your apartment. You’d ended up spending the whole day out with Kun. First, your stomach growled as soon as you two left the gallery since it was about lunchtime, and Kun immediately had to remedy that by taking you to lunch. Then, the restaurant you’d eaten at was near the shopping district, so you two meandered and did some window shopping—you really did have to physically stop him from going in and buying you everything that you even looked at for more than one second. And finally, you might have intentionally let slip that you were “kinda hungry” as it approached the evening, and your chest felt funny at the way that Kun’s face lit up before he offered to take you to dinner.

And now, you were slowing to a stop at your front door, getting ready to say goodnight.

“Thank you, Kun. This was a really fun day,” you said genuinely. “And thank you for the book recommendation, too. I’m excited to read it.”

Kun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you. “Thank you for letting me surprise you, Y/N. It made me happy to see you enjoy yourself today.”

“Oh, uhm, I have something for you too, by the way!”

“Really?”

“I didn’t think it was fair for you to be surprising me, and for me to be asking for a book on top of that without giving you anything in return…” You paused both for dramatic effect, and to search through your phone.

He took this as an opportunity to interject, “Y/N, you gave me plenty just by agreeing to come.”

There was a prick at your heart from his sweet words. Pushing past that, you tried to joke as casually as possible, ���And yet I still want to give you…”

Finally finding what you were looking for, you selected a thumbnail from your camera roll. Shoulder to shoulder with Kun, you held up your phone screen for him to see properly. It was a video that you’d taken today, just a few seconds long, of Kun. You’d taken it while the two of you were out window-shopping, and Kun had stopped at the window of an electronics store to look over a new piece of music mixing equipment that was on display there, his face awash in rainbow by the colorful LEDs inside. You’d been caught by the spark of interest that was on his features, a different look than you’d ever seen from him since he’d been under the love potion. Sure, all the soft smiles and tender adoration you’d been getting was sweet. But to see this magnetism towards something he was truly interested in outside of the effects of the potion, you were utterly entranced.

He looked up from the video to you, brow set in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you didn’t know what to submit to the video gallery. They’re taking digital submissions, right?”

“Right...”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been treating you like an artifact, Kun. If submitting something old is going to make you feel like that, then maybe you should submit a newer piece of your moving history.”

Kun stared at you, mouth parted. He was silent for a beat too long, and you start fidgeting, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“Sorry, I’m realizing that’s like really presumptuous of me to tell you what to submit— It’s just, you know, another option, if you want it.”

“No, it’s perfect, Y/N,” he reassured you. “Please, send me it. Having you as a part of my moving history in the gallery, I really like that idea.”

You were getting hot under the intensity of his gaze, and looked back down at your phone screen. “Right. I’ll-I’ll send it to you.”

“And you don’t treat me like an artifact, either.” Kun briefly squeezed your hand, then dropped it. Part of you itched to grab his again. “I’m sorry that I made you think that. You treat me like a person, Y/N. You ask me questions, yes, but you ask questions about all of me. Me back then, me now, my family, my major, my favorite book from the past year, even my future. It’s… the first time since I was turned that I think I’ve had someone do that.”

You swallowed thickly, the gulp comically loud in your ears. He held your eye contact, that same loving, peaceful, adoring look on his face as he gazed at you.

Then, he finally looked away, at the setting sun. “It’s getting late. I should let you go for the night.”

Scrambling to reach into your bag, you ascertained your keys and started the first of too many attempts at unlocking your door. “Goodnight, Kun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He took your hand, bending over to press a familiar, sickly sweet kiss to your knuckles. When he stood up straight, he added, “You will send me that video, right?”

“R-Right. The video. Yes.” You nodded dumbly, opening the door then practically slamming it shut behind you.

You didn’t make it even two steps into your apartment, sliding down the wall of your entryway with a drawn-out sigh. Fuck.

“I fucking hate Python,” you declared, snapping your laptop shut. You, Dejun, Yangyang, Ten, and Sicheng were back in the student union getting lunch together between classes, and you and your dragon friend were taking the spare time to work on an assignment. “I’m going to quit school and run away to live in the woods and survive off the land and if I ever see another computer again for the rest of my life it’ll be too soon.”

Dejun snickered from beside you, still happily typing away at his own coding. “You wouldn’t last an hour without wifi, Y/N.”

You groaned, opening your computer back up. “I know... a girl can dream, right?”

“Just change majors if you hate math this much,” Yangyang suggested from across the table, popping a tater tot into his mouth.

“It’s not like you haven’t done it before,” Ten added oh-so-helpfully, eyes not leaving his sketchbook.

“It’s not that I hate math, I just...” you trailed off as you tried to put your situation into words.

“Don’t like it?” Dejun finished for you humorously.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “No. I just... hate math classes.”

“Oh, that’s so much clearer.”

“Just like you hated Literature classes, and hated History classes,” Sicheng pointed out, listing off your previous two majors.

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, despite knowing that the phoenix was poking fun at you too. “You get me, Sicheng!”

“Scary...” he murmured to himself.

As you were desperately trying to think of any comeback other than just sticking your tongue out at him, you heard a voice calling your name. Looking up, you saw Kun approaching your table, and you gave him a small wave of acknowledgement.

He stopped next to your table, gentle smile focused down on you. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Hey, Kun,” you smiled up at the vampire, eyeing the paper bag in his hand with a familiar logo on it. “So you went back to Half Moon?”

“Yes, I did.” He held the bag out to you.

You accepted it, having to bite down on your bottom lip to keep your bashful grin at bay as you peered into the paper bag. An excited squeal left your mouth when you saw exactly what he had brought you. “A matcha croissant! Thank you, Kun!”

“You’re welcome.” He beamed at you.

Looking around the table, you ignored the pointed looks all your friends were giving you, and instead gestured to the empty chair on the other side of Dejun. “Do you want to sit with us?”

“Thank you, I wish I could,” he shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have a class to get to. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye.” You didn’t even flinch when he kissed your hand this time, though your skin was on fire as you remembered very clearly that your friends were right there.

As Kun left, he gave you a final wave over his shoulder, and you waved back before returning to your friends, dread in your stomach. In an effort to appear as normal as possible, you reached into the bag and pulled out your croissant. The table was still dead silent after you had taken your first bite, and you looked up from your food to see the other four staring at you.

“Oh my god, would you guys stop?” You hissed.

“Damn... I’m such a good witch,” Yangyang cracked his knuckles. “That man is heads over heels for you!”

“He brought me a croissant!” You retorted indignantly. “It’s not like he proposed or anything.”

“Y/N, I’ve known Kun for...” Yangyang trailed off, brows furrowing as he seemed to be thinking of how long he really had known the vampire for. “I don’t know, a few years? And he’s not like a recluse or anything but he’s not, how you would say... warm and fuzzy.”

“Oh my—”

“He brought you a croissant! What looks like your favorite kind, if I’m not mistaken?”

You pouted as you took another bite. “Maybe.”

“Looks like Ten’s advice worked then,” Sicheng mused.

“You should probably give him a few more nudges about other stuff you like, though, unless you want to get a hundred matcha croissants a day,” the siren suggested, readjusting his hold on his pencil.

“Yeah. I just can’t figure out how he always seems to know where I am—”

“He can smell you.” The creatures around you all retorted in unison, nobody even looking up from their individual tasks.

You coughed, scrambling to grab your bottle to take a long drink of water. Your other hand instinctually came up to rub at the side of your throat.

“So... how are... things?” Kunhang asked tersely, sitting on the porch swing that he and Yangyang had on their balcony. You’d called him after your last class that day, begging him to let you come over.

You leaned against the balcony railing, taking a deep breath—

“That doesn’t sound good.”

—and let out something between a groan and a screech.

“That really doesn’t sound good.” The gryphon picked up his blue Gorgonade that was sitting on the side table. “Care to share, Y/N?”

“You were right...” You mumbled, burying your face in your hands.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You were right, okay? Happy, Kunhang? You were right! You know me and my stupid soft little heart too damn well, and you were fucking right!”

“Woah.” He held his hands up defensively. “Sorry, I genuinely didn’t hear you, you kinda muffled yourself. Uh, I’m going to take a guess that this is about Kun?”

“Yes...” You whined. “I almost kissed him today, Kunhang!”

“Y/N!”

“And you want to know the worst part?”

“That’s not the worst part?” He asked, horror on his features.

“No, it’s not! The worst part, is that the only reason I didn’t is because he stopped me!” You bemoaned dramatically, squeezing your eyes shut against the embarrassment as you replayed the horrifying moment over again in your head.

Kun had found you again in a break between your classes. The two of you were just sitting on a shaded bench under a tree in a more secluded area of campus, chatting. You were just talking about nonsense, telling him about the lecture you’d just come from, how it was actually the one math class you had this semester that you liked. And Kun was just listening, and you were sitting so close to him, and Kun was looking at you like you were everything to him, and the next thing you knew, you were leaning in closer and closer to him. Then he ducked his head away from you at the last second, and you were rocketed back to your senses as you realized what you almost did.

“Oh God— Y/N!” Kunhang looked like he was about to pass out.

You covered your face again. “I know...”

“Why did he, you know, swerve you?”

“He said...” You sighed, looking up at the sky. “He said that he didn’t think it was fair, to me.”

“To you?”

“Yes, because I was... ‘falling for him under false pretenses’ since his behavior is being influenced by the love potion and not genuine feelings for me. And he thought that it was best for me, if he kept his distance for the duration of the potion.” Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you repeated his words bitterly. You weren’t mad at him, you were mad at yourself. God, you felt so fucking stupid.

Kunhang’s jaw was on the floor. “You— you were rejected... by someone high on love potion.”

“I think I’m officially the most pathetic person on the planet.” You plopped down on the bench swing next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Your friend scooted over to you, and you felt the familiar, comforting weight of his arm around your shoulders and a wing nestling over you. “No, you’re not. There’s nothing pathetic about being able to connect with people as openly and freely as you do, Y/N.”

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, bringing a hand up to harshly wipe at the tears threatening to spill over. “There’s really nothing pathetic about crying over a vampire that I’ve known for six days?”

That gave the gryphon a moment’s pause as he seemed to be seriously considering your question. Finally, he answered confidently, “Nah. Pathetic would be crying over a vampire you’ve only known for five days. Six days, you’re in the clear.”

That did make you choke out a little giggle, and he gave your head a couple pats.

The door to the patio was suddenly thrown open, and you jumped in your seat, whipping around to see who it was. Which you couldn’t do at first, as Kunhang had instinctually blocked you from the intruder—which always reminded you of a soccer mom throwing out her arm when slamming on the brakes of her minivan a little too hard—so all you could see were grey feathers. Yangyang just ran around the gryphon’s wing to skid to a stop in front of you two, panicked eyes landing on you.

“Y/N!” He pointed at you almost accusatorily.

“Yangyang!” You imitated his tone, pointing right back at him.

“Have you heard from Kun today?”

You exchanged a look with Kunhang. “Uh, I saw him on campus, but not since then. Why?”

“When was that?”

“I don’t know, one, maybe?”

Yangyang checked the time on his phone anxiously. “Five hours ago?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You were growing uneasy with each passing second. “Yangyang, what’s going on?”

“Kun’s not picking up the phone, or replying to my texts. And he’s like... neurotic about that stuff, you know.”

You were aware of Kun’s tendency to reply to texts in an extremely timely fashion, and always call back on the rare occasion that he missed a call from someone. A frown grew on your face. “How long has it been?”

“I first called him... at three, because he was done with classes by then. But I’ve just gotten radio silence all day.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, anxiety kept mounting inside you.

Kunhang spoke up. “Did you do something to piss him off maybe?”

“No. And I would know, he has no problem telling me.” Yangyang ran a hand through his hair, then focused a pleading look on you. “Y/N, do you think you could go check on him?”

“No.” The gryphon answered for you.

“Dude—”

You added, “I’ve never been to his place, I don’t even know where it is.”

“I’ll give you the address!”

“I’m not going to go over there uninvited.” You were still arguing but felt your resolve waning fast.

“He’s madly in love with you, this will be more like a great surprise for him!”

“Yangyang, cut it out,” Kunhang told him off.

The witch tilted his head in confusion. “Am I missing something?”

“No, just go over there yourself if you’re so worried. Y/N’s not your personal errand girl.”

“If he’s not even picking up my calls, there’s no way he’ll open the door for me. Y/N, on the other hand…”

“Liu Yangyang, have you ever heard of the word no? Just fuck off for—”

“Kunhang,” you interrupted him, bracing yourself for that venom to be turned on you for what you were about to say. “Thank you, but I-I am going to go over. Yangyang’s right, that’s not like Kun, I want to check on him.”

The gryphon blinked at you in disbelief. “You really think that’s a… good idea?”

You offered him an uneasy smile. “I’m just going to make sure he’s alive. Or… undead, or whatever. I won’t even go in, just see if he comes to the door.”

Kunhang just gave you a look that clearly conveyed his disapproval of this idea.

Double checking the house number with the address that Yangyang had texted you, you took a shaky breath. This was definitely it. It was a modest size, probably two bedrooms, if you had to guess from the outside. Definitely not the sort of exceptionally lavish castle that one might think a vampire as old as Kun would have. With a shaky inhale, you raised your fist up and knocked on the sturdy wood door.

It swung open just a second later. You were expecting Kun to still be in his usual academic sort of dress, maybe even the same clothes he’d been in earlier on campus, but instead, he was just in a grey t-shirt and black lounge pants. So he did own casual clothes.

“Hi, Kun,” you greeted him as normally as possible, very aware of all the layers to the awkwardness here. You had never been to his place before, he knew that you had never been to his place before, you hadn’t been invited over, and he’d just—as Kunhang had so elegantly put it—swerved you earlier, before saying that he was going to keep his distance from you. And now here you were on his doorstep.

“Oh, Y/N, hello.” Kun smoothed over his t-shirt habitually, as if he were meaning to fix the tuck of a dress shirt that he wasn’t even wearing.

“Sorry, uhm, I promise Yangyang sent me. I’m not... uh, yeah.”

He stepped back, holding the door open wider. “Please, come in.”

With your own promise to Kunhang playing in the back of your mind, you walked inside. “Thanks.”

“So, what does Yangyang need?” Kun kept talking as he guided you further into his home, and you looked around, eyes hungrily drinking in every detail.

It seemed like the one thing Kun had never studied was interior design. His home was a maximalist mishmash of stuff he had accumulated throughout his long life. An oil painting in an ornate gold frame hung beside a colorful pop art photograph collage, both above the olive green mid-century couch. In the corner was a desk with several computer monitors, a few pieces of electronics that were unfamiliar to you, and on the wall above it, small panels of LED lights that cycled through the rainbow. It was a lot, but you were charmed, finding yourself wanting to keep looking at everything, ask about every piece. You were sure that they all had some story or memory attached to them.

The two of you slowed to a stop in the living room, and you tore your eyes from the décor back to the vampire with you.

“He said that you weren’t answering your phone. Uh, he was worried.”

“And he sent you because he was afraid that I might not have answered the door for anybody else.” He nodded in understanding.

“W-well yeah, I suppose.”

“I wasn’t answering his calls because I had my phone on silent. I was busy.”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll go, you’re clearly fine.”

“No, Y/N.” Kun took a step forward, closing the space between you two. “You’re already here, and I don’t like the way we left things earlier. Please, stay?”

You gave him an easy, relaxed smile this time. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” He smiled back, then gestured to the couch. “Sit. Do you want something to drink? Water? I’m afraid my fridge isn’t very human-friendly right now, I apologize. If I’d known you were coming I would have—”

“Water’s fine, Kun,” you reassured him.

As he went to the kitchen, you went ahead and sat down where he indicated. The sofa was comfortable, plush, and you felt like you could melt into it and stay here forever. You went back to looking around at everything, a simple joy at the loving chaos that filled his space. A poster for some black and white silent film that you’d never heard of had caught your eyes when Kun walked back in, setting a glass of water down in front of you.

“I love all the stuff you’ve got in here,” you told him as he went to sit at the other end of the couch. “I feel like I could just look at it all forever.”

“Thank you. I usually just get told that it looks like I live in a flea market.”

You snickered. “Yangyang?”

“Well, yes.”

“So, what were you doing? Before I got here.” You took a sip of your water.

“Composing.” He gestured behind him to the desk with all the electronics equipment and LED panels. “Though I have to admit, I wasn’t making much progress.”

“Artist’s block?”

“Yes, something like that.” He sighed, fingertip tracing figure-eights in the upholstery of the back of the couch. “Usually music will help clear my mind, but this time…”

You frowned. “What’s wrong? If you want to share, I get it if you don’t.”

“I missed you,” Kun admitted without missing a beat.

Your grip tightened on your glass, and you took another long sip before replying weakly, “Well, I’m here…”

“Yes, you are. Like a little miracle…”

Kunhang was right again, this was so bad for you, your chest was airy, your head was TV static, your heart hurt. You chugged half your cup.

“Have you not been hydrating properly?” The vampire asked, concern coloring his tone.

“I guess not,” you laughed nervously, setting the glass back down on the coffee table before resting your hands on your legs. You looked up at him, listening to how loud your heart was hammering in your ears. You were sure he was too.

He leaned forward, studying your face carefully, “Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?”

You opened your mouth, about to, but immediately closed it. There was something that had been pressing on your mind for a while—well, a couple somethings—but you didn’t know if you actually wanted the answers to either, or if it was just a morbid curiosity, and you were the cat who was going to be killed by it. Figuratively and literally.

“Mmm... nope. Nothing off the top of my head. I’m drawing a blank,” you shook your head maybe a bit too enthusiastically.

Kun reached out to briefly squeeze your hand before setting his back in his lap. “It’s okay, Y/N. You can ask me whatever you want. I remember the deal.”

Of course. The deal you’d offered him in the bakery last week. That whatever question you asked him you had thought through and wanted his honest answers to, therefore he would give you them, no matter what they were. Except, despite the fact that you had thought these questions through, you knew they couldn’t hold up to those terms.

You gave up all pretenses now, voice entirely defeated as you admitted, “I know. It’s just— these ones... I can’t keep my end of the deal. That’s not fair to you, I’m sorry.”

He contemplated this for a moment, drumming his fingers on the back couch cushion. “Are they yes or no questions? Or more open-ended?”

“Open-ended.”

“Then... I’ll only answer if I think the answer won’t hurt you. How about that?”

You breathed in deeply, took another sip of your water, and readjusted to fully face Kun, one of your arms resting on the back of couch. “Okay, yeah.”

“Great. Go ahead, when you’re ready.”

Mustering up whatever strength was left in your voice, you asked, “What is it like? Being under the love potion?”

“It’s beautiful.” He began, a giddy smile coming to his lips. His fingers inched forward, bridging the gap between you and gently stroking over the back of yours, seemingly absentmindedly as he spoke. “It’s not a destructive, consuming sort of love, but the comfortable, familiar kind that you settle into after being with someone for a while. Like you just know that they’re your person. Admittedly, sometimes when I’ll think about you when we’re apart my chest will hurt a little, but then when I see you again, it feels like coming home. There are some moments I get overcome with emotion, but it’s not a constant obsession like a new crush or puppy love. I do of course remember what it was like before the potion, and how I felt about you then, but it truly feels like another life— though you can imagine that I’ve used that phrase quite a bit.”

You were biting on the inside of your cheek so hard you started tasting blood. With a sharp hiss, you freed the skin from your teeth, and swiped over the area with your tongue for a moment as you tried to think of an answer, any answer, just something to say to that. Thankfully, Kun seemed to understand the position you were in, and saved you from having to respond.

“What were your other questions?”

“Just— Just one more.” You steeled your nerves. “You had to be bit, to be turned.”

Kun tilted his head. “Yes, though that wasn’t a question.”

“H-How does it feel?”

“You’re asking me to describe being turned to you?” He frowned. “That was a long time ago, Y/N, it was honestly a bit of a blur. I’m afraid I don’t really remember all the details, but I’ll tell you what I can—”

“Not being turned, uhm, being bit by a vampire.”

He squinted one eye closed, then the other. “I can’t—”

“Oh. That’s okay, Kun. I was just curious,” you reassured him, making your voice as sweet as possible to cover up any hint of disappointment. It looked like he was still trying desperately to remember for you, though, scratching at the back of his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he still hadn’t said anything a few moments later, you spoke up again, “Kun, I’m serious, it’s okay that you can’t remember.”

The vampire set his gaze on you again, voice tight, “No, I—”

“Oh my god you look unwell again,” you blurted out, taking in his blown out pupils. “Seriously, should I call Renjun? Yangyang?”

He practically leapt to his feet, bumping into furniture on his hasty path to the furthest corner of the living room from you. “No, I know what it is. You should go.”

No way were you going to just leave him like this. You stood up too, but stayed in front of the couch. “Will you tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“I—” He fanned himself with the material of his shirt. “Do you remember what Yangyang was saying about young vampires?”

Of course you did, that idea bouncing around in your head for the past week had contributed to your question in the first place. Younger vampires had a harder time controlling their thirst because all kinds of want became hunger, a need to feed.

“Yeah, but I thought that you were okay, since you were so much older. You haven’t even mentioned anything other than human food unless I brought it up. Why now?”

Kun screwed his eyes shut as if he were in physical pain. “I’ve been okay as long as I was fed. But—”

“Oh my god, me coming over unannounced!”

“No, no, I just fed when I went to get your water. I don’t know if it’s something with how the potion works, but I’m afraid I’ve had to keep increasing my intake in order to stay satiated around you and I’m getting hungrier faster. So I’m very sorry, but you really need to go.”

“That’s it?” You defiantly crossed your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“You’re hungry, thirsty, whatever? That’s all?”

He slowly opened his eyes again. “Y-Yeah, I suppose.”

“You can do it without killing me, right?”

“Y/N—”

“Right?”

“Of course, but—”

“Clearly the end point of this is you starving to death. And I’m not going to let you—”

“We don’t know that. I don’t want you to feel guilted by that assumption into letting me...”

“Kun, wanting to help somebody does not equal being guilted into it!” You finally snapped at him, taking big, stomping strides towards him. “Stop being so, so… chivalrous to the point of self-flagellation! Do you honestly think that makes me feel good watching you do that? Let me help you Kun, that’s what I want, I promise.”

He held your gaze, the inky blackness feeling so much different than the scarlet red that you were used to. But… you didn’t mind it. Didn’t mind the way that the darkness trailed from your eyes to your lips to your neck and lingered there. Liked it. You knew he could hear your heartbeat thrumming in your chest, was able to pinpoint you by scent on the wide expanse of campus. What must that be like now, in such a small space, so close?

“Okay…” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse, as if he didn’t trust himself to talk any louder.

Kun was still holding onto the doorframe with a death grip, the wood beginning to splinter under his fingers.

“I’ve… never done this,” you prompted him quietly.

“Oh, right.” He straightened up, attempting to compose himself again. Ushering you back towards the couch, he explained, “Let’s sit down. It will be more comfortable for you that way.”

He sat down in the corner of the sofa, hiking one leg up onto it and keeping his other foot planted on the ground. Kun patted the space between his thighs for you. You sat down in front of him on the same cushion, your back so close to touching his chest that you swore you could feel the brush of his clothing against yours.

“I’m not going to overfeed, but in case you end up feeling faint anyway, you’ll fall back on me, as opposed to buckling to the floor.”

“Oh,” you said, just to fill the empty space of your side of the conversation. “Thank you.”

“Again, I’m not going to overfeed, it won’t be anything more than when you get blood drawn for tests. But just like then, I don’t want you to get up right after, okay? No matter how… good you feel.”

You were a little thrown off by his phrasing, but still nodded. “Okay.”

The vampire got even closer to you, now hovering over your right shoulder. You could hear him inhale as he paused, and a distinct thrill shot up your spine. His cool breath washed over your skin as he breathed back out, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Then all at once his mouth was on you. The piercing of his fangs lasted for a split second before it was all but erased from your mind by a honey sweet pleasure dripping through your whole body. You could feel the sensation of his lips sucking at your neck too, your blood trickling out from the wounds, and his tongue laving over your skin. But mostly you just felt… good. All of you thrummed from your heart to your fingertips.

A soft moan slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, giving him even more room. You felt him stiffen right after you did, as if getting ready to pull away. Reaching a hand up, you blindly grabbed for the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him in place against your neck. Kun seemed to understand, going back to contentedly drinking from you. You relaxed fully against him, letting your eyes flutter shut. He easily kept you upright, wrapping an arm around your front to hold you close to him.

You had no way to know or even guess how much time had passed when Kun finally took his mouth off your neck. He leaned back into the corner of the couch, easing you back with him.

“Thank you, Y/N. My miracle…” He murmured, his mouth right next to your ear. A fingertip lightly graced over a patch of skin below the bite. “I’m sorry I don’t have any bite cream on hand for you, I haven’t live fed in years.”

“Mm—” You were starting to come back down from your mellowed-out state, poking at the area yourself. It was tender, duh, but not too bad. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow before class.”

“It needs to be used within fifteen minutes, prior to any normal supernatural healing process starting,” he explained with a sigh. “Again, I apologize. There will probably be some bruising for a while.”

“Kun, it’s okay.” You sat up, turning around to face him. He definitely looked better than before. His eyes were back to red, and he was much calmer. He also admittedly looked a little debauched, his hair tousled from your fingers, and a small drop of your blood smeared at the corner of his mouth.

But as you appraised him—and he licked the blood off his lip—you grew a little uneasy, realizing that something was still… off about him. Just in a different way this time.

“How are you feeling?

“I’m all better,” he confirmed with a singular, resolute nod.

You gave him a relieved smile. “Good, good. We should ask Yangyang about if it’s something with how the potion works, make sure you’re going to be okay for however much longer it’s going to last.”

Kun cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary. I am certain that the love potion is no longer in effect.”

You wanted nothing more than to burst into flames on the spot. Quickly, you scooched further down the couch from Kun as you started a blubbering attempt at a self-deprecating, deadpan apology, “Well, that’s just… awkward. I’m going to go die a hole. Uhm, forget everything, forget me, and with any luck, you’ll never have to see me again. I’m so sorry.”

And with that, you rushed to your feet, with every intent of quite literally running out of the door. Except the living room was spinning, and your head felt like a hot air balloon. Two cold hands were on your forearm and small of your back, guiding you back down onto the couch.

“Y/N, slow down,” Kun chastised you gently. “I didn’t overdrink, but you should still sit for a moment.”

You relented, but buried your face in your hands akin to the way that you so very wished that you could bury your entire self six feet under at the moment. Maybe if you didn’t say anything, Kun would just let you sit in silence until you were recovered enough to leave, and you would never have to talk about any of this ever again. Then one day you would die, and he would continue to live for eternity and eventually forget you and this whole weird six days forever. Sounded like a fantastic plan to you.

“Y/N.”

Of course not.

You pulled your face out of your hands, dragging your eyes from your feet up to his face. He didn’t smile at you tenderly like he would have before, but instead he pressed two of his cold fingers to the inside of your wrist.

“Are you… taking my pulse?” You asked. “Can’t you hear my heartbeat?”

“Blood pressure,” he answered, continuing to hold his fingertips there, and you could feel the blood in your vein pumping against them. “Vampire touch is sensitive enough that if you know what you’re feeling for then you can… Okay, that’s better.”

“Did you learn this at bloodletting school? Because I don’t know if I trust this, you might put leeches on me next.” You tried to joke, hoping it would put you at ease a little. It didn’t help.

Kun looked you dead in the eyes. “I just drank your blood, and you’re going to complain about a couple little leeches?”

You fell back against the back of the couch, covering your face with your free arm. “So instead of letting me fuck off and die in a hole on my own, you want to be the one to kill me yourself, huh?”

“Y/N.” He repeated your name in the same frank tone as before, releasing your wrist. “I have something I would like to say. To your face, preferably.”

Dropping your arm back down to your side, you sat up straight, turning to Kun and bracing yourself for whatever he had to say to you about the past six days. It could be any litany of things. Agreeing with you to never speak about it again, joint proposition to murder Yangyang, an apology from him, demand for an apology from you; you were prepared for it to truly be anything.

“I honestly wasn’t very familiar with you before this whole debacle. I’ve known Yangyang’s coven for a hundred years, and he calls on me for assistance from time to time. I only knew you as the friend of the roommate of a witch that I know.” Kun explained, and you kept as neutral of a face as possible as you listened, having absolutely no clue where he was going with this. “Just like when I was under the effects of the love potion, my memories from before it were not erased, now that it’s worn off, I do still remember the time that we spent together during it. While I am not in love with you at present, after learning as much about you as I did… I am romantically interested in you still.”

You must have been giving him the most dumbfounded expression ever, as he felt the need to tack on an explanatory, “I would like the opportunity to take you on a date— a proper one, sometime. If you would like.”

Your head was nodding before your mouth finally caught up. “Yeah, yeah. I’d really like that too.”

“I can’t... guarantee that I’ll be exactly like I was while I was under the effects of the love potion,” he forewarned you.

“Kun that’s- that’s fine,” you reassured him with a bright smile. “Like you said, we’ll just try it out. I also learned a lot about you, outside of the love potion courting stuff, that I found interesting... and liked.”

You mumbled the last part nervously, messing with your fingers.

“That makes me very happy to hear. Don’t worry, no more sonnets now, I promise.”

“Well... you don’t have to do that… if you want.”

“Oh so you did like it,” Kun teased, reclined back against the arm of the couch with a cocky smirk that you hadn’t seen on him before.

“I was flustered! And confused!”

“That’s fair. I won’t retire my quill yet, then.”

A little over a week later, and you were back at Kun’s house at his invitation. He said he had a surprise to show you, and there was no further information. His penchant for surprises was genuine.

Kun was sat at his producing desk, and you had pulled up a chair beside him to watch. He was just logging into the computer when his phone rang.

“Yangyang,” Kun snorted. He was about to reject it when you stopped him.

“You can pick it up, I don’t mind.”

“He is not important right now.” He turned his phone off, picking up one of your hands to press a cool kiss to your knuckles.

Just a second later, and your phone was buzzing. You sighed, looking at the contact, then held it up so Kun could read it. Kun rolled his eyes.

Yangyang.

You picked up the call. “Hey Yang—”

“Y/N! Hey!” The witch’s voice blared through your speakers, and you quickly had to turn your volume down.

“Yeah, hi, Yangyang. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to chat, we don’t really talk, you know?” His voice was pitched up and he talked so fast that you could barely understand all the strung-together words. “What—what are you doing? Right now?”

“I’m hanging out at Kun’s place, why—” You were cut off by your friend hanging up. Dropping your phone onto the table, you looked at the vampire knowingly. “So I think that means he’s coming over.”

Not even ten minutes later, someone was banging on Kun’s front door. Kun went to go get it as you stayed in your spot over by his producing station.

“Stop it,” Kun deadpanned in place of a greeting as he opened the door.

Yangyang rushed in without so much as a hello. Kun focused an exasperated look on him as he closed the door, then walked back over to you.

“So, what brings you here, Yangyang?” He asked, easing himself back down into his desk chair next to you.

“Alright, it was funny at first but now I’m seriously worried.” Yangyang grabbed Kun’s face, shining his phone flashlight in one of Kun’s eyes, then the other.

“Fuck!” Kun threw an arm over his eyes, pushing the witch away with the other.

“Yangyang, what the hell is wrong with you?” You yelled out, rubbing Kun’s back soothingly. Having that done to you, a human, would’ve hurt a bit; to a vampire’s more light-sensitive eyes must’ve been a searing pain at least.

Kun had recovered a little, taking one of your hands in his for comfort. You ran your thumb over his knuckles, wincing sympathetically.

He half-squinted and half-glared up at your friend. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s been like two weeks, that potion should have definitely worn off by now.” He looked down at his hands with wide eyes. “I must be more powerful than I realize.”

You scoffed. “Hate to burst your bubble, Yangyang, but it did.”

“What? No, he’s still—” Yangyang gestured frantically to your intertwined hands. “You’re still— But, Kun— Huh?”

The vampire sighed, thankfully taking the lead on explaining. “We learned a lot about each other during the experience, and have decided to pursue a real relationship. I’m no longer under the effects of the love potion.”

“That is... There’s no—” Yangyang blinked rapidly at you two. “When? How? Y/N, Kun?”

“The hell does that mean?”

“You’re like a walking, talking, undead pair of corduroy pants, I didn’t think you had it in you, outside of the love potion.”

“Have what in me? The capacity for romance?”

“I was going to say a personality, but yeah, that too!”

Kun rubbed his temples, letting out a low groan.

“For how long?”

“A week.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m sorry, the witch who put love potion in a fucking Gorgonade bottle without telling anybody wants to complain about a lack of communication?” You retorted.

He crossed his arms with a huff. “Point taken, albeit begrudgingly. So it just finally wore off? A week ago?”

“Well, not quite...” You rubbed at your collarbone as the memory resurfaced.

“Then how—” Your friend cut himself off as his eyes zeroed in on your hand at your neck. “Oh. He— Of course! We should’ve thought of that.”

“Excuse me?” You sputtered out.

But Yangyang didn’t even acknowledge your embarrassment, too absorbed in the euphoric lightbulb moment he seemed to have just gotten. “It was a two-factor blood spell. You drank his blood to activate it—”

“Ew...” You muttered under your breath, shuddering at the memory.

“—so he had to drink yours to stop it! Duh!”

The witch was fervently typing on his phone as he spoke, now pacing with it as he buzzed with excitement.

“What are you doing?” Kun asked sternly.

“Taking notes! This is awesome!” Yangyang continued typing away. “I’m so getting an A!”

You and Kun exchanged mirrored looks of skepticism.

With a raised eyebrow, you pointed out, “Uh, but it didn’t work on me like it was supposed to, remember?”

He looked up from his phone at the two of you with the grin of a mad scientist—or, mad witch. “Look at the two of you! I’m calling this a win!”

Kun stood up, grabbing your friend’s shoulders and ushering him towards the door. “Goodbye, Yangyang.”

“Hey, wait! I wanted to ask you about— Ow!” Yangyang yelped as he was manhandled. “No fair using your freakish vamp strength! I was just going to ask if you—”

You couldn’t hear the rest of his sentence over the sound of the door slamming shut in his face. Kun turned back around, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “If I hadn’t known his coven for a hundred years I’d have killed him by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you snickered, reaching your arms out for him. “Come here.”

Kun walked back over to you, hands outstretched to hold yours. You gave his colder ones a squeeze, smiling up at him.

“So, what were you showing me? Before he interrupted?” You prompted him.

“Right, right.” Kun sat back down, grabbing the mouse and continuing to navigate through his programs. “I’ve been composing something… and… I wanted… to… show—”

Your phone suddenly buzzed from his desk again, and this time you let out an annoyed groan. “I’m putting it on silent, sorry.”

“Yangyang again?” He asked as you grabbed the device.

“Even worse,” you cringed as you read the name.

“Who?”

“Kunhang.”

sequel :･ﾟ✧｡･:･*

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

[rosemary-morgan]

HC's - Making love with them includes... (+18!)

Warning: Nsfw 18+! Language, cum play, oral sex, erotic massages, chocking

Characters: Javier Escuella, Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith X Female Reader. Missing someone? Feel free to ask (❁´◡`❁)

Thanks to all who read and like my stories. Stay healthy and take care, my lovely bees 🐝🌺

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

(Just the screenshots are mine)

Javier Escuella

He is in a flirty mood all the time. Just like you. You both can hardly wait to be undisturbed. You need your peace and quiet, far away from the others, to give each other the love you need.

You have been a couple for three weeks now and you are madly in love. There is nothing as delightful for you as making love to Javier.

And you do it very often. But as already mentioned, you prefer your privacy.

Often you will retreat to a nearby town, where you will rent a hotel room to let your love run free. There you both can be as loud as you want; or rather, YOU can be as loud as you want.

Often, in the early morning hours when everyone is still asleep, you make love under the blankets. Quietly and secretly, Javier fucks you slowly and sensually.

⦁ Javier knows how to satisfy you and he knows what you like.

⦁ He loves to hear his name on your lips. He loves the sound of your voice as you lay whimpering before him and, by God, he loves to see your body tremble while he fucks you.

⦁ Also he enjoys whispering naughty words. His voice arouses you deeply, even more so when he whispers in your ear and nibbles on your earlobe.

⦁ You always take time to touch each other, kiss and enjoy the sight of each other.

⦁ Javier loves the feel of your soft skin, loves to feel your breasts on his body. The scent of your beautiful femininity.

⦁ Javier is very tender, makes sure you feel comfortable with him. But he also has a wild and passionate side that you can easily awaken. Then he can also get a little rough.

⦁ But there are also moments when you are getting wild. And that is when you have been separated for a while. Javier will tear your blouse off, rip it apart, and won't lose a moment to press his face into your tits, breathing in the scent of your skin. Whispering how much he desires you.

⦁ Oh, he loves to satisfy you with his tongue. The taste of your vagina, the sweet sound of your voice when you fall into ecstasy. Javier takes his time with it. Playing with your clit; sucking and licking it before entering deep into your wet hole and tounge-fucking you out of your mind.

⦁ But also he loves to receive as well. The sight of you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him while you have his cock in your mouth. Your plump, delicious tits pressing against his thighs...

He loves the way you play with his cock. Your fingers stroking his thick balls, massaging them, only to be taken in your mouth afterwards, greedily sucking them. Javier goes crazy every time you doing this, moaning loudly your name.

⦁ He is also into choking. Not too rough, but he grabs your throat during sex when he wants to increase the arousal; and you love it. And while he's chocking you, he's whispering things to you.

⦁ Things like, "Yo te quiero mucho" "You like the way I fuck your sweet little pussy, Y/N?" "You love it a little rougher, don't you? You're so naughty." And "When I'm done with you, I'm going to fuck you with my tongue. You like it, don't you? Oh, you sweet, sweet girl."

⦁ He loves to take you from behind. Your buttocks that wobble with every thrust. The smacking, wet sounds when his tight balls slap your pussy every time. 

⦁ And when you ride him, he enjoys the sight of your bouncing breasts. Your buttocks wobble with every thrust from him. The seductive sight when you roll your head back in pleasure and show off your gorgeous throat.

⦁ Loves to cover you with his sperm. 

⦁ Whether you kneel or lie in front of him, spreading his cum on your face or body will make him go crazy with lust!

⦁ And after your lovemaking, he will hold you in his arms, whispering loving things to you until you both fall asleep.

⦁ You will often find a rose next to your sleeping place in the morning, when Javier has to leave early for reasons.

Charles Smith

King of foreplay. He takes a lot of time to please and satisfy you. You will come at least once, before you welcome him deep inside you.

⦁ Sometimes he also gives you a massage. He rubs your beautiful body with fragrant oils and he knows exactly which parts of the body he has to massage and caress extensively to arouse you.

⦁ The sight of your shimmering tits, covert with oil, makes his cock hard as stone.

⦁ And when he massages your pussy, he takes a long time. His fingers circle your clitoris while he looks into your eyes. You clearly see the fire, the passion in them. "How does that feel? Is that good, yes?"

⦁ Eventualy, it leads him to finger-fucking you. You get incredibly wet for him, every damn time.

⦁ Love to give oral sex. Charles takes his time and enjoys you to the fullest. Your scent is overwhelming and if it were up to him, he would lie between your thighs all night. You will often hear words like: "You smell wonderful" "Mhm, you taste so good, babygirl."

⦁ His lips and tongue will explore your whole body, every corner. Charles is very tender, very careful with you, like you're as fragile as flower petals.

⦁ You love the feel of his hands when he touches you, caresses you. And the tingling on your skin where he kisses you.

⦁ Making love with you is something very special and intimate for him. Therefore, he wants to be as far away from the others as possible.

⦁ You both go camping often, and love being in nature. It also often happens that you take a longer break of several days. And in these days, you love each other passionately.

⦁ During your lovemaking you smile a lot and words full of love leave your lips.

⦁ He prefers missionary, for he wants to look into your eyes while he fucks you. This is an intimate moment you share. But Charles also loves to have sex in a sitting position. Your wonderful legs wrapped around his strong hips, your heated, sweaty bodies tightly pressed together and your trembling fingers clawing at his long hair, while he kisses your throat, your round tits... just perfect.

⦁ You have a secret place by a river; where there is no human soul, you make love at the edge of the shore. Your naked and wet bodies shimmer under the sun and under the moon.

⦁ And there's something magical about embracing each other at night while the moon shines down on you and fireflies dance around you.

⦁ Charles often spreads flower petals on your cot or on your bed. Whether it's wildflowers or roses, it's a loving gesture that says a lot.

⦁ He washes you gently with lavender water afterwards, holds you in his arms afterwards. He holds you in his arms until you fall asleep. 

Arthur Morgan

⦁ The two of you look at each other. Full of love, full of affection, holding hands and whispering words of love to each other.

⦁ He also prefers his privacy with you.

⦁ You would camp often in nature, where you can make love in your tent, protected from prying eyes.

⦁ Arthur takes his time to undress you, enjoying every moment with you. He praises your body, kisses and touches every corner with incredible tenderness. This alone arouses you so much that you get all wet for him.

⦁ The first thing he always does when you are naked is to make himself comfortable between your thighs.

⦁ He starts by kissing your inner thighs. Very slowly, agonizingly slowly, watching you very closely. Every twitch, every tremor from you he enjoys. But the most beautiful thing is to see the lust in your face.

⦁ Then, when his own lust grows to strong, he starts to eat you out like a pot of honey. He enjoys every drop. The scent of your femininity makes him crazy with lust. Arthur desires you so much.

⦁ He loves the feel of your delicate body on his manly, strong one. Your skin on his - it's heavenly.

⦁ Slow and sensual. Arthur is a pleasure seeker, but after a while the love making gets a little rougher and Arthur reaches for your body a little harder. 

⦁ He loves to press his face between your tits! It's pure pleasure for him to be able to feast on you. Greedily he takes them in his mouth, sucks on your nipple, while you claw at his hair and go for pleasure.

⦁ He also loves it when you grab his hair and pull it. Whether he's tongue-fucking you or sucking your tits, do it and he'll be yours for eternity.

⦁ He loves missionary position, for he wants to look you in the eyes while he loves you. Arthur wants to see how beautiful you are while feeling incredible pleasure.

⦁ Afterwards, he will hold you in his arms, words full of love will leave his lips. Always asking you for forgiveness, if he was too rough. 

⦁ But Arthur always takes good care of you, and lying in his arms gives you a wonderful feeling.

⦁ Sex in the kitchen is also not uncommon (depending where you live etc.) Desire often overcomes him when he sees you in, while you're making the coffee, or chopping fruit... and by God, he's going to fuck you really good from behind.

⦁ He lays you flat over the table, watching you moaning his name in pleasure. Enjoying the view every time his cock sinks deep into your pussy, his balls smacking against you... You're so wet for him...

⦁ Often he'll smack your ass, gripping it firmly.

⦁ And he is also into roleplaying - Usually he is the bounty hunter and you are his prisoner, completely at his mercy

⦁ You will often find him in the morning preparing some good breakfast for you

[bietrofastimoff23]

"I can′t believe that it's finally me and you, and you and me, just us...

- and your BIG EGO."

i came across the reels "when you date a narcissist" in inst, and i realized that i need to draw it with gwaynston.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

[littlelostmabari]

This came to me last night in the hypnagogic state where all my fic ideas (good and bad) come from. No idea if this is anything but it begged to be written. Might make it into a series if the brain gremlins are obliging. Divider from strangergraphics-archive. Complete Fic List

And Death Follows

Arthur Morgan x grimreaper!reader.

Supernatural elements, death & dying, reader has female pronouns. 700 words.

Arthur should have died in New Austin a year ago, deep in the Grizzlies. Not even a noteworthy death: an ambush by some unknown bandits that would fall off the map three winters later. He was only passing through, on his way to meet Dutch and the new enforcer at Crenshaw Hills. He wasn't supposed to make it. You were there to claim his soul. You weren't supposed to leave until you had it.

It wasn't often that you were sent to claim a soul before it had died, to watch a man on the last day of his life, to watch him take his last breath. Most days you wandered, somewhere between the physical and the ethereal, finding the souls along your routes and releasing them so that they would not fester and become nightmares, hauntings, bad luck. But every so often a death was orchestrated years in advance, threads woven in some grand design that you were never privy to. You were called somewhere by whispers on the winds, meant to shepherd the one poor soul the Fates had doomed, and then return to your years of wanderings. That was the protocol, and you'd never needed to second guess it before, because... Well, them that were fated to die simply did. But he didn't. He... lived. Everyone around him, everyone who was supposed to play a part in his demise found theirs at the end of his revolver. Someone would need to collect their souls, and shepherd them to the afterlife, especially because they weren't assigned to die today. No one was coming to get them, they would languish here until another wanderer like you released them. So... as odd as it is, you do your job. You tiptoe through the scene, invisible to all but the dead, and send these men to the afterlife so that this spot will not bear the ruination of angered spirits. You watch as Arthur climbs up onto the Hungarian Half-bred and clicks his tongue and goes to meet the men he was never supposed to see again, a strong golden thread tethering him to this world. You still need Arthur's soul though. Supposedly, if the whispers are right. So you follow him deeper into the Grizzlies.

The bugger won't fuckin' die.

Robbery after holdup after break-in you follow him, invisibly picking up the lost echoes he leaves behind, still needing the one that she had been assigned. You wonder if the men, the souls, the wisps that tell you their dying words and disappear into the ether would have lived if Arthur had died. Through Armadillo and Tumbleweed, through the start of something clever in Blackwater with Hosea. The longer you stay, the more you start to root for him. The more times you follow him through other people's broken lives, you start to hope that he lives. Start to help him.

And the longer you're there, the more he starts to feel your presence. Extra ammo he's sure he didn't pack, but desperately needed as they flee into Tall Trees. The whisper of a breeze that causes him to look up and see the lurking O'Driscoll. The knowledge, somehow, that John's injuries at Colter aren't fatal because it's not his time yet, but he doesn't know how he knows. It's in the aftermath of a bloodied battlefield at Ewing Basin, when Dutch has left him to pick through whatever remains, that he sees you for the first time.

He scans for threats every few seconds, and has to blink weariness out of his eyes because why would a woman in a black tattered dress with hair pinned up and mussed be wandering the abandoned mining camp, the rotting buildings, the open catacombs of the men they had ambushed? And what is the woman doing with her fingers on the forehead of a body made unidentifiable by shrapnel and lead? And what is the wisp of light that dances between her fingertips? "Come on, Arthur! Dutch ain't gonna wait all day!' He snaps his head over his shoulder at Lenny's call and by the time he looks back, she is gone. "Yeah, keep yer shirt on boah, I'm comin'."

[frnkiebby]

he’s so fucking pretty here it hurts~🎃

[marylily-my-beloved]

Marylily short fic - 873 words - Based on 'strawberry mentos' - @lienspien

When Lily realized that she had fallen in love with Mary, it was when they were running errands together, and were buying groceries. While they were in the supermarket, Lily bought all the stuff they needed while walking through the aisles slowly and carefully, making sure not to miss a single thing off the list, while Mary went straight to the candy aisle. 

Lily just assumed she would be buying them some snacks and candy they can eat while hanging out with friends or watching something together. When they met up again to pay for everything, Lily looked at what Mary had gotten, and she had seen two packs of her favourite candy, strawberry mentos, and she felt so happy. Mary had remembered her favourite candy, and had decided to buy her some too. 

That was the day Lily realised her feelings for Mary, and from that day, Lily kept her eye out to see what Mary's favourite candy was. After around two weeks of looking at what Mary always ate for her sweets, and looking at what she bought regularly at the grocery shop, she figured out that Mary's favourite candy was black licorice, the universally hated candy. Lily hated it too, but she didn't care.

Whenever she went to the store, or found herself near a candy shop, she would go in and buy some black licorice for Mary, and some strawberry mentos for herself. 

And life went on, but the strawberry mentos were still there, and so was the black licorice. Life went on, and they became closer, they talked more, they became best friends, they went to each other for everything they could, except for who they liked. 

And still the strawberry mentos were there, on Mary's bedside table, waiting to be finished and replaced with more. And still the black licorice was there, scattered all over Lily's room, waiting to be eaten and replaced. 

Their candy was all over the house now, infesting the corners of their living room, scattered all over the kitchen, like their love for each other, hidden and unspoken, but there nonetheless.

After a month and two, Lily realised how kind and sweet Mary truly was. They had always made time for each other when they were friends, but now Mary wanted to spend most of her time with Lily, and Lily wanted to spend most of her time with Mary, so they figured out ways to make it work. 

They were the closest they had ever been. 

After a while, she realised that she was really in love with Mary so Lily decided to get Mary a gift and some black licorice, and asked her out on a 'friend date' at Mary's favourite restaurant. Of course Mary couldn't say no to that, so they went out together on a Friday, Lily had gotten all dressed up, and made sure she had the gift and the black licorice with her before taking her and Mary there. 

While they were at the restaurant, they talked and talked, and when they ordered the food, Lily realised she was just staring into Mary's eyes, so she decided to bring up the fact that both of them haven't had boyfriends or girlfriends for around a year. Mary knew that Lily was bisexual, but she never brought it up, so Lily decided to with the girlfriend comment.

After that they talked a little about love life, and their own love lives before they had met each other, and then they ate. 

After eating all their food and paying the bill, they had just gone outside of the restaurant and then Lily gave Mary her gift –the black licorice included– and asked her to be her girlfriend since she really liked her. Surprisingly Mary said yes, confessing her love as well, and then they had their first kiss, so sweet and innocent. Mary's breath had tasted like strawberry mentos, while Lily's tasted like black licorice, it was the perfect mix. 

A date turned into, two turned into three, and then they were so obviously in love with each other, and were finally dating.

After that day, they always acted in love with each other, not bothering to even hide it in front of their friends before they told them. Throughout those times the black licorice and strawberry mentos stayed on their bedsides, and when they moved into the same room, Lily's black licorice and Mary's strawberry mentos were on the same bedside table, almost as if to mirror the movements of their shared lives. 

When they argued (and trust me they argued sometimes), Lily made sure to calm herself down, and Mary made sure to talk everything out. They had balanced each other in a way that truly made them more in love, which had barely even felt possible.

After almost a year of dating, Lily realised that Mary still regularly had breath that smells like strawberry mentos, and every time they kissed, it was a mix of strawberry and black licorice. 

And everytime Lily remembered that, she knew Mary was the one she was going to be with for the rest of her life. She was amazing, and even if she wasn't perfect, they were perfect for each other. 

[elspethdixon]

It’s not a “queerplatonic” relationship if one of the characters is explicitly, canonically in romantic love with the other, complete with onscreen love confession. That love being (so far) unrequited doesn’t make it magically not romantic.

It’s not a qpr if one half of the relationship has extremely not platonic romantic and sexual feelings for the other half, hth.

[selfindulgentgirl]

shy/anxious f/os have become a favorite of mine recently... like aa when they get jumpy when you touch them. just a big blushy mess when you go for a hug. it’s SO CUTE. and omg when you kiss them they can not function anymore, like “welp! f/o’s shut down, gotta reboot them”. teasing them is too much fun

[wonder-falcon]

the male drews are so tiktok thirst trap icky stop this madness….

not the girls tho y’all stay safe out there ✊🥰

[starlightkun]

romance is dead ❧ teaser [kun]

❧ teaser word count: 861

❧ warnings: just some cursing for the teaser!

❧ genre: fluff, modern magical creatures au, fantasy au, college au, vampire kun, human reader, ft. various other magical weishens, “uh-oh one of us drank a love potion” trope but with a twist, same universe as strawberry sunday

❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!)

❧ estimated release: saturday, july 8, 2023 2:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

It was dark out when you eventually left Kunhang’s apartment, the review guide completed, and your brain just a little fried from all that math. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, and keys in hand, you took off down the sidewalk for the short walk back to your own home.

“Y/N.” A voice suddenly saying your name from right beside you made you jump out of your skin.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, clutching a hand to your chest. When you whipped around to see that it belonged to a familiar face, you took a deep breath before greeting him. “Uh, hi, Kun.”

He remained quiet.

You kept talking, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder to calm yourself down, “Sorry about all that back in Kunhang and Yangyang’s apartment, by the way. I know it was stupid of me to drink something in a witch’s fridge that tasted off. That part was on me.”

“Are you walking home?” He questioned, focus rather intense on you.

“Yeah, my apartment isn’t far.” You gestured in the vague direction of it.

A deep frown etched itself into his features, “By yourself? It’s rather late.”

“I know! What if another vampire sneaks up on me?” You gasped teasingly.

“Will you let me walk you home? Please?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, uh, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence. You shifted your bookbag from one shoulder to the other when your muscles got tired.

“Is that heavy?” Kun asked.

“I mean, kind of? My laptop’s in there, and a couple notebooks; Kunhang and I were doing this review packet for a Calc test,” you explained.

“I can carry it for you.” He held a hand out expectantly.

“Oh, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Uhm… okay.” You pulled the bag off your shoulder and handed it to him by the strap. Honestly, you wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if he ran off with it. Him robbing you seemed about as likely as him randomly offering to walk you home and carry your bag for you.

Kun effortlessly slipped the bookbag on. It looked out of place against his slacks and dress shirt/sweater combo, especially with your multiple cute character keychains that you had attached to the zipper.

He dutifully carried it all the way to your front door for you, where you gratefully took it back. You were very excited for tonight to be over. Between studying, the potion debacle, and now this incredibly awkward interaction, diving headfirst into your bed sounded like exactly what you needed.

“Thank you, Kun, I’m just going to—” You cut yourself off when you were finally able to see his face clearly in the security light outside your apartment door. His crimson irises were nearly gone, entirely swallowed by inky pupils, and he was pulling at his shirt almost as if he were fanning himself to cool down. “Oh my god, Kun, are you okay? Your pupils are… blown. I’d check your temperature, but I don’t think vampires can run a fever, can you?”

“I… I’m…” He didn’t even finish his sentence, biting down on his bottom lip, and holding up a finger in a gesture for you to wait a moment.

You didn’t know too much about vampires, nor whatever ailments they could possibly get afflicted with, but you did know somebody who probably would. Bringing your phone out from your pocket, you started flicking through your contacts list, “I feel like I should call Renjun. He’s a Magical Creatures Studies major. Uhm, he was able to figure out why Dejun stopped producing fire for a weird two weeks last year. He might be able to help. Here, let me—”

“No, I’m fine. I know what it is.”

“Oh. That’s good. What is it? Is there anything I can do?”

Kun straightened back up, hand going to smooth out the wrinkles in his sweater that he’d caused by pulling it at. “I believe Yangyang’s love potion was successful in a way he did not intend.”

“Kun, seriously, I don’t feel any—”

“I do.” He cut you off sternly, focusing his darkened eyes on yours.

“You…” You breathed out, eyes widening.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I apologize.” He bowed his head. “I tried to control it as best as I could. But yes, I suddenly started experiencing extremely strong romantic feelings for you earlier tonight.”

“O-Oh.”

“I should go, I’ve seen you home safely.”

“Right, uhm, goodnight, Kun,” you nodded to him, too stunned to say much else.

You clenched your jaw not to make a noise of surprise when he picked up one of your hands with his much colder one. He bent over nearly ninety degrees to press a feather-light to the back of your hand. If you had a free hand, you would’ve pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming yourself into a rom-com right now.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he gently let go of your hand before taking a step back from you.

After fumbling to unlock your door, you practically ran inside. Oh, you were going to kill Yangyang.

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

[fabuloustrash05]

We can’t forget this gem :3

Seriously, Goku is the number one Vegebul shipper. Like he’s the only one that understands Vegeta’s inner feelings for Bulma. And on the other side Vegeta is the only one that really understands why Goku continuously wants to train, even if that means being far away from his family. Call it brothership or bromance, but those two are really in sync.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Just before they leave Kansas the group decides to eat and rest before continuing, giving Y/N the time she needs to visit her mother’s gravestone.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, dead parent, visiting a graveyard, lonely, angst with a happy ending (the happy ending almost didn’t happen)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44

Word Count: 2022

Reunion

(Master list, Previous ch, Next ch)

I sit in the backseat of the Impala, the wind blowing from the open window, messing up my hair and the book I have in my lap. My spell book. I look down at the hard brown book, only minutes ago did I have a small fight with Dean about what to do with it but even now the urge to do something itches at my bones.

With a small huff I open my bag pulling out a pen before flipping open to the page, on the top left corner I write “April 2005–bags did not work on a house haunted with a poltergeist.” The small warning did nothing to ease me but it would have to do for now, because to rip the page would be to destroy a piece of my mother and a piece of myself.

Dean was right, I'm not afraid to admit that, I am afraid to admit, however, that I acted harshly to his remarks. I knew I shouldn’t have reacted like that, I knew it even in the moment but the words left me too quickly for any rationale to hit me. I felt bad, it must have been hard for him to see his mom again and then there I was causing an argument to rub salt in a wound. Most of all I pity myself for getting like that, an awful anger festering in my gut.

"Hey, how 'bout we grab a bite and take a breather?" Dean suddenly speaks, breaking the silence of the car. I look up from my lap, where the book rested, I meet his eyes in the rear view mirror giving a small nod. I was hoping we would stop somewhere for a while so I could sneak away and visit someone. Sam agrees too so we drive on for a while.

I watch the view from my window the whole time, watching the trees and buildings go by when it suddenly becomes very familiar. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not but we pulled right up in front of my favorite diner, I always went there it had become a go-to very quickly. Different memories flash in my mind to the many times I went with my brother, friends, and even Dean. It’s then that I think it must have been on purpose but instead of happiness filling me it’s a sort of dred.

Even so nothing more is said as we exit the car, but just as I close the door behind me I say, “You guys go ahead, I'm not hungry.”

Dean gives me a confused look but it’s Sam that speaks up, “Do you want us to save you something?”

“No no it’s okay, thanks” I shake my head, clutching the strap of my bag to me. “Could you just text me whatever motel we’ll be staying at, in case I come back and you're not here”

“Where ‘you heading off to?” Dean asks, confusion and concern written in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m just gonna walk around” I half lie with a tight lipped smile to finish it off. Still Dean looks at me skeptically, which I suppose is completely fair, but he doesn't say anything about my blatant lie either. With a simple bye I walk away swiftly, feeling the burn of their gaze on me, only slowing down when I'm out of sight.

My feet guide me, the route so familiar I could do it blindfolded. I spent so many years in this town, and yet it all seems so foreign. It was like I was walking back in time directly toward my past, except nothing is exactly as I remembered it to be. I hate to admit it but I never thought I’d be doing this again.

At each crossroad I wait at, my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. A desperate sadness filling my lungs, how was it possible for something to be so familiar yet so foreign? It didn’t make sense. Yes time changes all things, and yet I think I expected it to still be the same like it couldn’t possibly change because this is where I grew up. Maybe it was because I never thought of this place anymore, hadn’t needed too. My past died here and I moved on because it was the only thing left to do. I never came back, never visited, never wondered what my friends who I met here were doing.

It hurt too much to think of Kansas when out of all the wonderful memories only the worst ones stuck out, branding itself to this place I called home.

I slow to a stop in front of a flower shop, the same one I always went to. I enter the small establishment, the bell ringing as I open the door. The strong aroma of all sorts of flowers hitting my nose, I don’t need to look around to know exactly what I want. What I came for.

I walked up to the counter immediately noticing the owner wasn't behind it, I remembered she always was and she even refused to hire any workers because this was her store and she didn’t want any “hooligans” to ruin her work. I have to remind myself that it’s been years, not a week or a month but years since I’ve been here. She probably retired or…no. I won’t let myself think that.

I leave with my bouquet of forget me-nots and white roses, my moms two favorite flowers. I hold the assortment gently as I continue my long walk. My mother loved forget me-nots she would gush over the meaning and the many poems and analogies she had heard, she was a romantic so the meaning was never lost on her. I definitely got that from her.

Eventually I arrive at the cemetery, the large black gate creaking as I push it open. I carry on the path taking a couple twists and turns before arriving at the gravestones. It was unkempt with dead leaves covering it, the sight alone made me want to cry. I wipe away the leaves that lay on top of it, using my shirt to clear the dirt from her name not caring about it getting dirty. I sit criss-cross right in front of her, “Hi mommy” I smile sadly, tears already filling my eyes. “I brought you flowers” I lift them slightly in emphasis.

Feeling it to be too improper to just lie them down, I produce a glass vase filled with water. Carefully I take the plastic wrapping off the bouquet, freeing the flowers from their restraint before placing them in the vase just beside her grave stone.

I let out a heavy sigh, “I missed you…I’m sorry I haven’t visited you since I moved away”

“God.” I sigh, looking up to the blue sky, fluffy clouds scattered over it, trying to prevent the tears from falling.

“You know” I laugh sadly, looking back at her, “This whole time we were here I planned on seeing you and I thought of so many things i’d like to tell you about, but now.…” I breathe out. “I don’t know.”

“There’s hardly a day that goes by in which I don’t miss you, It’s gotten easier since, well, you know.”

“But being here.” My voice trembles, “I feel as if I could lose my mind to the grief, I thought I was past that. Past being so…lost. Alone?”

I laugh, tears falling from my eyes, “I could really use one of your hugs right now”

I wiped my face, my cheeks feeling stiff from the tears, “I met your friend Missouri, she’s great, I'm surprised you or dad never mentioned her before.”

“Um. I’m with the Winchesters right now, helping ‘em out” I tell her, trying to think of the positives right now instead of the squeezing of my heart.

I swallow down a sob, my throat feeling tight with emotion once more, “I know you’d like to hear all the good in my life but being here, I can’t— I just. I miss you”

“I don’t care if that’s redundant when it’s the truth, I just…I’m so lonely” A sob breaks through my lips, and the tears flow down my face rapidly only this time I don’t try and conceal it. “That sounds so horrible to say because I’m with people I love and care so deeply for, yet something feels wrong. Something is missing and I don't feel quite whole.”

More tears fall, my eyes blur with it. Her gravestone and the flowers turn into a gray, green, blue, and white mix. “Have you ever felt that way?” I ask her even though I know I won’t get a response.

I sit there in silence for a few moments not really knowing what to say or what to do. I don’t want to leave just yet because I don’t know when I’ll be back, and to leave would feel like turning my back on her all over again. I scoot the way I sit so that my back is resting on the side of her gravestone with my legs extended in front of me. I lean my head to the side to rest on the frigid stone.

“I figure I’d find you here” A deep familiar voice suddenly says. My eyes shoot up from my fingers, watching Dean's approaching figure, a cup of something in each hand. I swiftly sit up, wiping at my face quickly trying to remove any evidence that I'd been crying, “What are you doing here.”

“Well Sammy bailed on me for some beauty sleep after you left. Noticed you were off, especially when you skipped out on one of your favorite diners.

‘Figured you’d end up here.” He’s closer now only a few paces away, I stand up to meet him. I don’t understand why he came or how he even remembered where her grave would be, “No offense but why’d you come here?”

He shrugs all nonchalantly, “Didn’t want you to be alone.” It was sweet he was here but it almost felt awkward, like this was too private of a moment. “I can leave if you want” He offers, sensing my hesitance.

“No! no it’s okay, thank you for coming, that's really sweet of you.” I spill out quickly, leaving out the part that my mom wouldn’t mind him being here either.

He shrugs again, “You’d do the same for me.”

“Also, I brought you a milkshake for old time sake. Wasn’t sure what flavor you’d go for, but knowing how indecisive you are anyway I got you a vanilla chocolate mix thing.” He extendeds one of the blue paper cups towards me and I knew he got them from the diner.

I take the cup from him, the coolness immediately seeping into my hand, “You know me well” I smile looking down at the milkshake not being able to meet his eyes. Now sweet wasn’t even the right word to describe him, he brought us milkshakes because when we hung out we would almost always go to a diner and get them with fries or a whole meal depending.

“I told you I did” He responds, reminding me again of our previous “fight.”

I look back at my moms grave, the flowers I brought sitting in the vase somehow the scene feeling lighter now. “We can stay, drink these here, if you want.” He offers, again sensing what I’m thinking.

I turn my head back towards him, this time meeting his green eyes, “No it’s okay.” And it was, I knew my mom would want this. She would want me to walk away now when I was happier and with someone I loved—that romantic in her shining through again. He nods and we begin to walk away, I take a sip of the milkshake, “God that’s good” I smile and he laughs.

We walk silently mostly, “Sorry about before, with the spell book. You were right.”

He swings his free arm around my shoulder tugging me closer to his side, “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

[childrenofcain-if]

DEMO ✝ BACK-UP ACCOUNT

Wealth. Power. Death.

The Ballad of the Young Gods is a dark academia interactive fiction story, with dark fantasy and psychological thriller themes. Some of the romances also contain tropes and storylines which may be disturbing to some readers.

It is based on media like “Ninth House” by Leigh Bardugo, “The Secret History” by Donna Tart, “Masters of Death” by Olivie Blake, and SYFY’s “Deadly Class”.

It is rated 18+ for depictions of swearing, sexual themes, violence, and death.

Getting into an Ivy League school is a dream that thousands of American students nurse from a young age. Luckily for you, that dream is your reality. Four years of continuous hard work and pressure have made you a proud freshman at Yale University. And as if that wasn’t enough, you have been handpicked to attend Rathore College, whose selection process is revered across all the nation’s top educational institutions. But you should’ve known this stroke of luck came with a catch.

Yale is a crucible of power, where secret societies wield arcane magic and the dead are far from silent. The illustrious House of Styx wants you and this is a situation that not even your money can get you out of.

They are powerful, elite, and most of all, controlling beyond recognition. They are also the heart of the eight secret societies that attach themselves to Yale. From the White House to Hollywood’s most acclaimed stars, their influence reaches farther than anyone can dare to imagine.

A sinister conspiracy brews under Styx’s watchful gaze, one that threatens to unravel the fragile balance between the living and the dead. But in a graveyard of secrets, you and your accomplices are the ones with the shovels. You’re now in a world where the past is never truly dead, and the lines between life and death blur with each passing day.

But some secrets are better left buried, and some prophecies are destined to drag you to hell.

Cédric Armand Lacroix / Céline Armelle Lacroix (M/F)

Vindictive. Conniving. Ruthless.

As the heir to the Lacroix fortune, C is every bit as arrogant as their bloodline demands them to be. Even after the messy divorce of their parents which further led to their disownment by their father, Alain Lacroix, they refuse to give up on their dignity. They’ve vowed to destroy him one day and take what’s rightful theirs, brick by brick. The world bent to C’s whims, what money couldn't buy them, those pale green eyes probably did.

There is nothing that they can’t have, especially if they set their mind to that. That is until you came along and stayed one step ahead of them every time in everything that mattered. It wasn’t just the fortune or the legacy at stake; it was the bruising of their pride, the constant reminder that someone—anyone—could outmaneuver them. But beneath the layers of resentment and anger, there’s something more—something darker, even more dangerous.

An obsession takes root, one that blurs the line between hatred and fascination. And they vow to spend their whole life despising you for everything.

Romance trope: Enemies / Academic Rivals to Lovers.

Vance Kasper Næsholm / Vanessa Karina Næsholm (M/F)

Pious. Haunted. Disillusioned.

Raised under the oppressive influence of a rigid, fire-and-brimstone faith in a Danish Catholic orphanage, they were taught to see demons in every shadow and sin in every touch. Forever haunted by the visions provided by a wrathful God they can neither fully grasp their mind around nor escape from, their only reprieve came on the day they got adopted at the age of six and diagnosed with schizophrenia. But the truth of their ‘psychosis’ may be far more sinister than any medical diagnosis could account for.

As the tides become even stormier and their medications become ineffective when they arrive at Yale, all V can do is hold on to the last threads of control over their lives. Your first meeting almost makes them teeter over the edge.

Now that they’re your roommate, they’re bound to you by fate or folly, but whether they’ll be a stable ally remains to be seen.

Romance trope: Roommate Romance.

Wilhelm Johann Ostendorf / Wilhelmine Johanna Ostendorf (M/F)

Exhausted. Abandoned. Lost.

What does the world think of you when you’re a product of brilliance and neglect at the same time? With an Oscar-winning filmmaker for a father and a mother ensconced on the American board of directors at the Louvre, their pedigree is undeniable, yet it is a legacy more hollow than it appears. While their parents sculpted their careers into masterpieces and amassed accolades, they left W to be raised by their paternal aunt and uncle. A sizeable trust fund and periodic checks served as their parents’ only gestures of care, a shallow substitute for the love and attention their only child so desperately craved.

The only times they had felt more than someone who was deeply unlovable were the summers you spent on rusty swingsets and fast bicycles with training wheels. But the swingsets have long been dismantled, and the bicycles have been traded for cars.

The only questions remain—are you the same kid who saw them, really saw them, beyond the reality of being unwanted and the suffocating looks filled with pity that came with their name? Or will this reunion only serve to confirm their deepest fear—that they are, and always have been, truly alone?

Romance trope: Forgotten Childhood Friends to Lovers.

Dumitru Constantin Diaconu / Dumitra Constantina Diaconu (M/F)

Charismatic. Reckless. Guarded.

D’s name is the one that comes up in almost every conversation about Yale’s wildest parties. A natural-born rockstar charmer with a magnetic presence, they effortlessly draw people into their orbit, collecting hearts and bodies with the ease of someone who’s always been in the center of the gold rush. Despite the countless admirers and the trail of broken hearts left in their wake, you’ll always find them with a Marlboro between their lips and a new person in their arms to warm their bed at night. Their smile is a promise, and their laughter a siren call. In the haze of flashing lights and the thrum of bass that pulses through the walls, they are a heartbreaker in every sense of the word.

Feelings are a complication they don’t allow, a line they never cross. They’ve perfected the art of detachment, of keeping their connections strictly no-strings, because to let someone in would be to risk the vulnerability they’ve long since sworn off.

Will you be the only person they'd let peel back the barbed wire surrounding their heart? Or will you be left with nothing but the faint scent of cinnamon and a tale that wasn't meant to be?

Romance trope: Friends with Benefits / Sex First, Feelings Later. [You will only be able to unlock their romance route through a hookup.]

Maxwell Edmund Whitlock-Singh / Maxine Edythe Whitlock-Singh (M/F)

Duty-bound. Noble. Untouchable.

Politeness and decorum are second nature to M. They are the embodiment of manners, a living testament to the art of subtlety in a world where spectacle often trumps substance. They are the sort of person who commands attention without seeking it, a product of both royal blood and rigorous self-discipline. Dubbed the “Paragon of Styx,” M is a modern Plato, someone who finds as much solace in philosophical debates as in the classical texts they’ve devoured in multiple languages. As the second-born child of the Crown Princess of Wales, they have always understood that their life would be one of service with every action scrutinized, and every word weighed.

Their intellect is vast, but it is their passion for the esoteric that sets them apart. For all their convictions, there is a restlessness within M that even they cannot fully articulate. It is the paradox of their existence—a life of privilege that feels at times like a gilded cage, a role that demands both reverence and obedience. Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Will you make them realize that life is more than duties and expectations? Or will you become yet another figure in the background, another reminder of the golden cage they were born into?

Romance trope: Forbidden Royal Romance / Secret Relationship.

Step into the shadows as the wealthy heir apparent to a billion-dollar industry who is just starting at Yale University as a freshman.

Be a part of Yale’s most enigmatic secret society, the House of Styx.

Fully customize your character including: pronouns, gender, physical appearance, personality, sexuality, and more.

Romance 1 out of 5 love interests (all of them are gender-selectable).

Study forbidden knowledge, practice dark magic, and try not to fail at your actual coursework.

Test your mind, body, and soul in rituals that blur the line between reality and nightmare.

Learn about the secrets that your mother took to her grave. Is she really the same woman you remember so fondly from your childhood?

Will you rise to navigate the sinister plans brewing under the nose of the House? Or will your actions drag you and your companions to the fiery depths of Hell.

W̶̗͖̝͆h̷͕̲̑̎̓̍̄̎͠͝a̵̢̛̫̾̓͗t̴̙̫͛̐͆̾̀̓̔̊͝ ̴̪́́̈́͛̂̉̀͒̊́ạ̸̗̯̲̘̬͗̀ͅr̸̢̪̜̭̼̠̟̜͚̂̈́͋͋̅͑̉́̎͝e̸̩̯͉̿̊̔͛̃̎͝ͅ ̵̢̹̜̤͍͙̩̬̰̜̏̃͝͠y̷̢̨͇̘͍̌́͐̍̆̓̑̐ǫ̶̢̧̡̛̥̤͉͎̟̃̏̍̓̒ͅu̷̓̂̾̇̇͜͝,̸͎̖̮̲̳̻̱̬̎̒͑͝ ̸̡̛̰̌͐c̶̛̪̗̰̻̜̲̘̺͗͊h̴̡͔̦̘̤̖͊̿̓̇i̵͉̘͙̥͍̼̜̐̐̄̅͝͝ĺ̶̡̧̧̼̦̦̗̰̝̼̓̊̀d̸̡͎͔͔̰̖̿̐̈́̓͊̌̃̓͜?̷̩̗̲̫̮͕̍̈́́̽͜͝͝

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WRITTEN BY: axel (he/him)

CODED BY: @albywritesfiction (they/them)

[frnkiebby]

Frank….baby….~🎃

[marylily-my-beloved]

Posted the new chapter of my marylily she-ra au fic. We finally get to see some new characters, genderbent Sirius and James!

you should go read it! the next chapter should be out soon as well <3 love the summer because of all the writing I can do. I as also wondering if anyone wanted to be in a taglist?