#i really need to stop answering all these requests with such long comics LOL

[gojoshooter]

Hi!! Thanks sm for your response! I'm glad you take requests since I'm such a fan of your work!

I was thinking about a scenario wherein Gojo Satoru always had the impression that reader hated his guts because they always bicker even at the pettiest of things. But one day, Satoru overhears reader gushing about having a crush on him (reader could be talking to Geto/Shoko/both etc) and they keep rambling about how much they like him and all. Meanwhile, Satoru's just 🧍‍♂️leaning by the doorframe with the biggest smug grin on his face (he actually secretly likes reader back). How it ends is entirely up to you if you'd take this request hehe

Just basically lots of fluff and the occasional comedy lol thanks so much for listening to my rambling (I just love him sm)

hi, thank you for the praise robynn! ’m so glad to know my works interest you, luv u & here's your req hc <3

Deer caught in Headlights : Gojo

Pairing : frenemy!gojo x highschool!y/n

A/N : here's another set of hcs about gojo bullying you like the jerk he is. ps. i tried to be serious

WARNINGS : gojo is a tease, but so are you

“i don't like him like that. absolutely fucking not, what the hell?” you whisper, mouth stuffed with icecream in the comfy bed of Shoko's room as Geto copied her bored expression—sitting & listening to your endless rambles on why you're not attracted to Satoru like that

seriously, they've lost the count of reasons why you gradually became a Satoru simp but oh have you

“goddammit! i hate him, i hate him and his dumb voice and his stupid muscles and his awfully attractive face! it's all on my desserts he ate to look li-... Geto, are you sleeping?”

you stop your very important discourse to give the best friend of your enemy & your thought dump a pointed look

“no, please keep talking. i only yawn when i'm super fascinated”

says him, that talk-back king of a bitch you're sure he got that from is best friend

he lies down the bed with a soft huff and if he notices Satoru’s tall presence by the door, he does nothing—nothing but a hint of evil amusement making his lips curve into a subtle smile to the thought of your pathetically obvious crush being exposed

he does nothing to stop you who's back faced the door, nothing when his best friend approached slowly with his hands inside his sweatpants as your embarrassing tirade continued

“-and Shoko, trust me. I'd have let him known about his ridiculous eyes that i dreamt last night if he wasn't such a jerk like h-”

“...what about my eyes?”

you flinch... no, no no no, fuck. even Shoko burst out at your comical whip of the head

with a stifling laugh that she tried to fight so hard, Shoko gets out along with Geto who may have wanted to stay just to watch the drama commence

“um-” you almost landed face first trying to drag your panicked little self out of bed as the slanting white brows raised at you amusingly

“mhm, and you hate these stupid muscles” “no! i mean- yes, n-”

“y/n, i expected more”

god fucking damn, what was his cursed technique? to flatter people? you pulled a passive-aggressive face in defence of your shattering pride, and begin “h-how long have you been standing there?”

Gojo answered your question with the teasing smile on his face, and he chuckled before asking with a tilt of his head to watch your reaction “correct me if i've been reading this all wrong but.... you like me”

your figure shrinks at the claim and that definitely satisfied Gojo, his breathy hum confirming it further

“mm?” he hums slowly, as if coaxing a child to admit their wrong doings “cat got your tongue y/n?” just say it, say it, say it. you breath in.

“i like you” “say that again” “...i like you”

you know he would not let you live that down even if you were to end up having kids—but fuck that, you thought, the cat's out of the bag anyway.

“dunno i had such a weird taste in men but i just really enjoy spending my time with you and you've really become someone special to me and-”

“don't even tell me, i already know. i just needed to get that out.” he knows he shouldn't be mean, not when he feels the same about you, but can he help his obsession with your flustered red mess of a face?

you know he's trying too hard to tease you. cruel fucking bastard. “wait until i kill you”

“yeah?~ what're you trying here? to make this seem like a lovers' quarrel?” he chuckles, prolly wants to redden your puffy cheeks a little more before giving in.

“i'll punch that smirk off your face, Satoru!” “try me, i dont need to try getting you on your knees before me”

“oh, do you think of that image a lot?” you say lifting an eyebrow, perfect chance to make him taste his own medicine.

oh. Gojo blushed.

“w-well, what i think is... maybe our feelings are mutual” says after clearing his throat as he slowly regains his composure. “i have this weird feeling when i'm with you, can't explain it, but it's a good feeling...”

your usual instinct of fighting began to fade at his words as both of you stood in middle of the room in an awkward state, trying to fight the urge to smile

“hah, can't believe i never noticed it before, but you're kinda hot when you're angry. maybe that's why i loved pissing you off”

yes, that's when Gojo managed to break your last straw and make you blush at the same time “well then, take this!” his infinity stopped your little punch

“meanie!” he chuckles again, holding your fist softly

“okay little baby, no sulking. if a punch makes you feel better you can punch me. lightly.” he said in his silvery voice as he turned his infinity off, kissing you nice and soft...

(you ignored his last word)

A/N : i hope people this is one ^-^ i personally enjoyed this heheskks likes & reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Tags : @robynnnhooddd @nanamikentoseyebags @luckimoon @dazailover1900 @jspenft @tamakin7 @daquila @jkhlhjkjkjhkl @horrendous-introvert

[your-fave-adopted-you]

Hi! If that's okay could i request platonic nrc staff reacting to MC wanting to go to an art school after nrc? Specifically for tattoos?

Based on the fact that i went to look at universities yesterday lol

As an art student this is very interesting.

in fact I made my pfp myself lmao

Also additional drinking game : drink every time you read the word tattoo and get absolutely wasted!

Guardian! school staff + MC who aspires to be a tattoo artist

Characters : Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Ashton

TW : none

Gn pronouns were used.

Context : It's not uncommon for young artists to be discouraged by their families and teachers when mentioning that they want to seek a career in art, and that it's not just a hobby.

But do you know how much worse it gets when you say that you don't plan to live by selling paintings like Picasso? do you how how many people won't think of tattooing as a proper first option?

Oh, you do. And that's why at first you're a little bit worried about telling them.

Dire Crowley

Actually it just came up in a random conversation

he told you that even if you couldn't get back home in the worst case scenario ofc

at least you were lucky that you studied at such prestigious school.

you had much more possibilities career-wise than most people.

and he finally asked you what you wanted to do, if you wanted to continue studying, or what was your dream job.

You told him your plans about art school, and being a tattoo artist.

"Oh, are you sure?" he said expressionless.

and like always, you had to explain why you wanted that, what it meant to you, yk, the usual.

"it's art school actually necessary for that?"

and again, you explained that in some schools they even had courses dedicated especially to tattooing, comics, animation,

and even if it wasn't the case, art school really helps with your skills.

and he went silent, contemplative.

"would i get one for free?"

"sure, but only if you volunteer for me to practice."

that's it, that's all he needs to hear.

Researches any school that seems worthy enough for your talent.

even privates ones.

ESPECIALLY THE PRIVATES ONES.

good lord he's actually calling and emailing and shit.

if only he put that much energy in everything else.

also he will stop anyone he sees with a tattoo and will bombard them with questions. "how much did this cost you?" "how long did this one take to- 6 hours? oh... do they get paid by the hour or?" "do you know if they're hiring?"

it's actually embarrassing.

One day he even asked Leona and made the terrible mistake of mentioning you, "Oh what a.... yes, it's definitely a design alright! where did you get this? I'm sure my y/n would like to know!"

next time you saw Leona he was actually curious about what kind of tattoo you were getting-

Also he stopped kalim once on his way to P.E to ask about his 😭

because??? they're white??? white ink??? oh his little artist will thank him for the info!!!!

poor kalim thought he was about to get dress coded or something.

long story short he fully supports you, he doesn't really get why you want to do it but, he doesn't question it either.

Divus Crewel

One day he just asked the class about what they had planned for the future.

There were all kind of answers tbh, some wanted to work in cosmetics or acting, some wanted to open a bakery, some wanted to be teachers, and there were people in your class that were rich already-

And then it was your turn.

again, the usual.

Half your class was already asking for free tattoos.

But Crewel was quiet for a bit.

He was probably thinking about those faded, gross tattoos that covered people's entire chests or backs, with eagle designs or exes names or something like that.

"Is art school really necessary for that?" pt.2

after you defend your position 😭 he asks you how much do people pay for it.

after you tell him that it can pay bills quite well, he finally agrees that's a good path to follow 💀

would NEVER in his life get a tattoo.

But after you show him the kind of designs you want to make,

he admits that it looks very good on people, it's like their skin is a canvas. in a way.

yeah so, as long as it pays well he will support you 💀 that's it.

Mozus Trein

He already knew that you were an artist but he assumed early on that you would sell paintings at expositions and paint murals and shit like that yk, maybe even sculpt?

And he knew that you wanted to go to art school. He fully supports that alright.

but then one day you corrected him. You wanted to be a tattoo artist, actually.

Mr.Trein is very well educated in art, it's an essential part of history and he kind of expected you to be the next Dalí or smth

He's not going to tell you that it's a lesser form of art, or that you should aspire for more,

but yk, he's an old man. he definitely thought about it.

"does it pay well?" pt.2

even if you got rich by that, he's still a little worried about your future.

"People will always have skin, and they will always want to do something cool with it so don't worry, i won't run out of work!"

it came out a little weird but he got the point. it helped a little.

his mental image about tattoos is very much likes Crewel's at first, and even when you show him your designs he's still somewhat hesitant about the whole thing

then you showed him that some people got tattoos after the loss of a loved one, or some kind of big recovery, meaningful stuff in general.

and ngl it made him see it under a different light.

your dream job could actually be... important??? helpful for some people??? wow.

After that he fully supports you, he won't ever admit it but for a second he wondered if he would ever get his wife's name tattooed 😭

Still he doesn't respect people with anime characters tattooed on their forearm.

Ashton Vargas

He's actually chill about it.

"is art school really necessary tho?" pt.3

Has the same mental image as the previous two about your profession

but like, in a positive way?

the kind of man to get a tribal tattoo, or an eagle across his entire left arm, or even his mom's name inside a winged heart on his chest 😭

doesn't even ask about the money lmao

"Can I get a free one?" pt.2

he thinks it's really cool but that going to art school for it is a waste of time and money, he thinks it would be better to study with 1 professional and then work for them for a while.

he really likes your designs

and genuinely thinks you have a bright future ahead of you!

he won't do the same thing as Crowley, but since you told him he would stare at kids with tattoos too.

then he would tell you about them.

"Huh. But what if someone comes to get their butt tattooed??? would you have to do it??"

"Probably yes?"

"BUT Y/N! WHAT IF THEY FART!?"

also

"Hey but what if your client sneezes? what if they get hiccups???"

he's asking the real questions here.

but yeah, fully supports you from the start, a very solid, proud dad.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Maybe Sam singing as he's gardening (or cooking, or anything else)? Bonus points if he has a really nice soft singing voice and Frodo has noticed him but worries he'll stop if he knows, bonus bonus for one of the other Fellowship members materializing and casually startling him with gleeful comments

Me: Aww, that’s a cute idea!

Narrator: Three hours later…

SEND IN YOUR SUGGESTIONS! (Similar level of detail to this comic not guaranteed LOL)

Not SamFro!

Bonus:

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. The mirror.

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

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

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

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

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

“Did you come back for this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, just different things here and there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you still didn’t get his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turned, huh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Two places?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile at that.

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

From: 🦷🩸

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that okay with you?”

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

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

You want to hear him say it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m certain.”

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

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

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

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to, Johnny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-it’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-okay.”

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

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

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

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

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

[lovelybarnes]

can you do a fic that’s like the ep’s “hit” and “run,” but it’s Y/N and Spencer’s child they have to save, and not JJ’s?

pairings: spencer reid x reader, platonic!bau x reader

warnings: mentions of getting shot, bank robbery, blood, kidnapping, worry, cm stuff.

about: requested! s7 e23-24 but spencer and y/n’s child is at risk (jemily is canon btw, will knows)

thank you so much for requesting! sorry it took me so long and it's going to have to be in two parts, since apparently it was too long lol, it'll be up as soon as i'm done editing it! (i also promise it gets better in the next part-) part two

-

the ticking clock on your wrist seemed to pulse with each move the arms made, each one notifying you that you were running a little later than before. when spencer rounded the corner to your mother’s house, you sighed in short relief, unbuckling your seat belt when he parked and getting out of the car to open the door to the back, smiling at your son in his booster seat. “hey, bug,” you whispered, undoing his seatbelt and pressing your lips to his head in a weak attempt to wake him up. spencer was taking things out of the trunk hurriedly, setting them down and walking to the door of the house, where your mother was already waiting.

you pulled your little boy into your arms, seeing as he wasn’t fully awake yet and would probably stumble over his feet if you set him down. you only hummed when his fingers twisted in your shirt, holding you close.

“hey, mom,” you greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek. spencer’s hand rested on your lower back, the other adjusting emiliano’s hair.

“i’m sorry we’re so late, it was supposed to be a day off so yesterday we stayed up late, and emi wouldn’t wake up,” you said, your mom nodding as a response, "oh it's no problem, honey," she assured, stretching her arms out.

you kissed emiliano on the head again as a goodbye, smiling when he made a little noise and handed him to spencer, who pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before giving him to your mom. you waved goodbye to your son, heart stinging a bit from the disappointment that you weren’t going to spend the day with him like planned. “bye, mom! we’ll be back later, i love you!”

your mom sent you a goodbye you barely heard as you and spencer sped walked back to your car, driving to work late.

-

the ten minutes you were running late didn’t seem like such a big deal when you realized practically everyone else was behind schedule as well, although you couldn’t blame anyone, it was supposed to be your free day. spencer had even planned to go to a comic con with penelope, but he had only been able to start to get dressed before everyone got called in.

you and spencer were still in the car, examining the scene before getting out. outside, spencer planted a quick kiss on your lips, and you smiled, giving his hand a squeeze, then joining your team.

you stood between spencer and jj, greeting the others with a small nod and a smile before hotch began to list facts about the case. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed jj and emily’s hands tangling together, and a small smile sneaked onto your lips. your eyes flicked up to will’s face, realizing he had seen it too.

you looked back to hotch, who was still talking.

“... killed one person in each robbery.”

rossi voiced the question you had before you could, “m.o.?”

“single gunshot wound. each of the victims has bled out,” hotch explained and you all began walking towards the large vehicle housing penelope, sometimes cutting in with thoughts.

“serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period and we’re only just hearing about this now?” emily asked.

“headquarters identified them as robbers first and killers second,” hotch said, and you raised an eyebrow, “no one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies- especially in the span of seven months.”

“i agree; i disagreed with the original assessment, but i was overruled.”

you nodded, continuing to listen to what hotch was saying as you walked into the fbi rv.

“why haven’t we been able to id them off of surveillance footage?” derek asked.

“they hack the security feed and turn off the cameras. both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we’re allowed to watch.”

you squeezed penelope’s shoulder as a greeting, and she only smiled, blowing you a kiss as she continued to type.

you looked up at the screen showcasing the surveillance, running your eyes through the hostages. “they’re using the hostages as human shields,” you observed out loud.

“this is the first time they’ve been interrupted. what went wrong?” jj asked; the rest of the team voiced their thoughts until hotch gave everyone orders on what to do and where to go.

“jj, reid, and prentiss, look over past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology. pull another analyst if you need to. dave, handle negotiations, and morgan and l/n, strategize tactical options with mpd.”

you all nodded, and you squeezed spencer’s hand once more as a goodbye, walking out with derek.

-

you only had a few minutes to introduce yourself to mpd when a gunshot rang, making you flinch slightly and realize you would have even less time you thought.

“l/n?” a staticky voice you recognized as penelope interrupted your talk with the officer who was going to go in to help the injured bank robber, and you apologized as you pulled the intercom from your pocket.

“yeah, pen?”

“we got names. chris and oliver stratton. they’re brothers. oliver is the injured one”

“chris and oliver stratton," you repeated, "thank you, penny.”

“always, sweetie.”

you relayed the information to the officer with you and derek, who was currently loading up his weapon before reaching to put it in his pants. derek stopped him before he could, “no, no, no, no, i want you to put that in your bag.”

the officer paused, as if asking why, and you responded, “the woman’s probably going to want to search you,” you pushed the medical bag closer, watching as he put the weapon inside, “but chris is going to be too worried about his brother to delay long enough for her to check the bag, too.”

“alright.”

derek and you shared a look, “you’re going in to provide medical assistance, no unnecessary risks, hear me?” derek said, and the officer nodded.

“once you stabilize oliver, check on the hostage they just shot, he might still be alive,” you added. “understood,” officer green replied.

“do not draw your weapon unless you can subdue the unsubs without endangering the hostages,” derek told him, and green nodded again, zipping up the bag. “yes, sir.”

he began to walk over to the bank entrance, and you went over with rossi and hotch with derek; you stared at the screen with the surveillance, spotting the officer you’d just talked to walk in,

“shit,” you muttered, realizing the brother was probably going to die. “this isn’t good, hotch,” you said, and hotch didn’t reply.

“morgan, tell green to make a move before chris does.”

morgan touched his mic, pushing it closer to his lips, “green, you gotta go. green, go.”

you saw as he reached into his bag, pulling out his weapon in silence. chewing at your thumb, you froze when you saw chris reach for his own weapon, shooting green in the chest. you didn’t even have time to think over what just happened when chris shot him again in the head.

you could only blink and stare at green’s body lying lifeless on the floor, jaw clenched and hands shaking in frustration, trying to remain composed.

the next few minutes were a blur, swat was called and hotch and strauss argued about something you didn’t really pay attention to, “you okay, l/n?” derek asked and you nodded, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine, are you?”

derek only nodded, his attention taken away by rossi, who was waving him over.

“they called,” you realized, walking over to rossi.

“...i want an... armored truck and a plane with a cleared flight path to switzerland.”

a female voice cut in, “no, no, no. chad. we want to go to chad.”

“yeah,” chris said, “no agents with guns this time. we’ll fly ourselves.”

there was a click that indicated the conversation was over, and you swallowed hard, “i don’t think he’ll be happy she injected herself in like that.”

-

“these guys were too good to get caught. so, why did they?” rossi asked, and will, from next to you, answered, “911 received a call alerting them to a robbery in progress.”

penelope cut in from the screen in front of you, “actually, it was a text. dc added 911 messaging after the virginia tech students’ texts went unanswered during the massacre.”

“can you trace it, garcia?” hotch asked.

“yeah. that message was sent from a cell phone that is currently inside the bank that is registered to a… larry phillipis jr.”

will paused, “why does that name sound familiar?”

rossi was silent for a second, thinking, “that’s the name of one of the gunmen from the ‘97 north hollywood bank shootout in california.”

“so, is this an homage?” derek questioned, but no one was able to answer.

“guys, that message was sent thirty seconds before they blacked out the security feeds for entry.”

another voice offscreen that you recognized as strauss asked how that was possible, and derek answered, “it didn’t come from a hostage, it came from one of the robbers.”

you swallowed, “she wanted us here.”

-

jj and emily were back, and walking over to you and derek. “there’s no clear line of sight to the vault,” will noted, observing the map.

“no, but if we come in, that’s where they’ll go. we need to be ready for it,” derek stated, gazing up at the building.

“garcia caught us up. why instigate a hostage situation?” emily asked from next to you, and you shrugged, “what’s a narcissist without attention?” you answered, “she thrives on it.”

jj was looking around, “she must have something bigger in mind.”

you agreed silently, “well, we need to separate chris and the female to find out what that is.”

“it’s not going to be hard, they’re already on edge,” emily supposed.

rossi walked from the rv to the phone, taking your attention with him. you stared at him before noticing emily stepping over to him and leaving you to stay behind with derek, jj, and will. you all talked between each other, talking strategy and theories.

-

the next thing you knew, chris was asking for will, and jj was staring at will like he was crazy to even consider it. you were sat next to will, only listening to their conversation.

will was shaking his head, looking between jj and hotch before he turned to you. “i know you’d do it if you were me,” he told you, and you saw jj roll her eyes. “will, i get what you’re feeling, but you’re too close to this case to make this call.”

“you’re damn right i’m close,” will mumbled, “four people are dead because i shot his brother. and no one else needs to die because of what i did.”

you shook your head, “this isn’t about you.”

“risking your life won’t bring them back,” jj pointed out.

from in front of you, hotch sighed, “i’m sorry, will.”

you all stayed in silence for a while until emily walked in, a look on her face that made you sure the news she had wasn’t good. “he’s threatening to shoot more hostages until he has will.”

you sighed and will shook his head, standing up, “screw this, i’m going in.”

there was a panicked look across jj's features, mouth open to argue, but she didn't get to say anything. “no you’re not, we are,” hotch interjected.

-

in under three minutes, everyone was ready to go, vested up and anxiously waiting for the signal. you stood next to jj, biting your lip and staring at the map in your fingers, trying to strategize. you had barely looked up when you recognized will, walking towards the doors of the bank, seemingly unarmed with his hands raised. your eyes widened, lips mouthing an unheard no and you immediately turned to jj, who had barely seen him.

her mouth opened in a scream of protest, feet beginning to take off to try to stop him in any way she could, but derek had wrapped his arms around her chest, holding her back and off the ground, even as she fought against his arms. emily touched her arm in a useless attempt to calm her. you were frozen, only able to stand and stare and wait for the best that was probably not going to happen.

it was only three seconds that jj’s feet were on the ground, body trembling and eyes already rimmed red.

ten seconds passed by and three gunshots rang, loud and piercing and you pulled a hand to your lips, eyes following jj’s as she tried to run again, but you and derek pulled her back, letting her go when she planted her feet on the ground unsteadily, hand on her mouth.

-

you were all surrounding jj, apprehensive and waiting for her to blow up or scream.

“did you see where he was shot?” she asked finally, waiting for anyone to reply.

no one did, and after a moment of loud silence, she sniffed, her red brimmed eyes staring at penelope, “is he alive or dead, garcia?”

penelope stuttered, “i- i don’t know.”

“he was wearing a vest,” emily reassured, “he might be okay.”

jj scoffed, staring at her girlfriend, “might be,” she repeated bitterly.

one of the two missing from the group walked inside in a hurry, bad news no one needed from rossi’s mouth, “they’re not answering.”

jj stood up, shaking her head, “alright, we need to get inside.”

derek grabbed her arm gently, “it’s too risky, jj, we don’t have eyes inside anymore.”

jj’s eyes were wet as she looked up at hotch, pleading. “aaron...” she begged, and after a second, hotch nodded. “let’s go in.”

you all stood, walking outside.

-

not two minutes later, they called, just before you were about to go in.

“want to save the life of mister william lamontagne jr.? one medic that won’t pull the same shit the last one did, or else i’m killing them both.”

“we’re going in anyways,” derek pointed out, and emily nodded, “yeah, but the way we’re going in, it’s more likely the hostages and will won’t make it. if we send someone in, there’s a higher chance we can get them out.”

hotch was thinking, his forehead creasing as he stared at the paramedics. “we need an agent in there.”

“send me,” you said promptly, all eyes going on you. “i have medical training. i was an intern at the hospital before i decided i wanted to be a profiler. i can help him and i can take them down, hotch.”

“absolutely not- that would just be sending another agent in there for them to kill,” derek argued, but you ignored him, staring at hotch, “hotch.”

“l/n…”

“we don’t know how he’s doing, but chris just said we could send a medic in, i’m going to guess that isn’t a great sign. i can do it, i’m an agent, i’m capable, they haven’t seen me or heard my voice, i can fight well without a weapon, you know that.”

jj was staring at you, her fingers tangled with emily’s.

hotch was silent for a second, contemplating what you’d just said, “get your vest on,” he said finally, and you nodded, squeezing jj’s hand before putting said object on.

before going in, you grabbed morgan’s arm, pulling him aside. “i don’t know where spence is, and i’m really not sure what’s going on in there so, if anything happens-”

“y/n-”

“please.” you begged, and derek only nodded.

“if anything happens, my will is in my second drawer, tell him i love him and please don’t let him think it over too much.”

a voice that belonged to hotch interrupted you, “l/n!”

“i’m gonna be okay, tell him that. tell everyone that, okay?” you asked, and derek nodded,

you took a deep breath before walking over to hotch and grabbing your medical bag, double checking you had everything.

hotch had stood in the tent, behind you, only watching you from afar while you pulled on your vest straps, tightening it around your chest. you put on another shirt over it, leaving it invisible to anyone who wasn't looking close enough. you had smiled at hotch before beginning to leave, one of his hands wrapping around your arm and pulling you still.

“hey,” he said softly, “be careful.” you nodded, “yeah. of course.”

his hand loosened, and you sighed, walking away and towards the dreaded bank, arms up and medical bag hanging off your fingers.

the moment your fingers touched the door handle, you could just feel something was wrong, but you couldn’t risk anything- especially will and the hostage’s lives just because of a feeling.

so you pulled the door open, and stepped into the bank, eyes searching for will, who confirmed your bad feeling because he was sitting up, someone putting pressure on his wounds.

“what-”

“get inside! right now unless you want both him and you to die!”

-

you should’ve known it was a trap, you should’ve just listened to hotch and derek and stayed put, but you didn’t and now it was probable you were going to die.

will was fine, for the most part, he had a bullet wound to his shoulder, but he was up, talking to one of the hostages. you set your medical bag down, observing chris.

the woman had gone somewhere else, and you took the time she wasn’t there to try to communicate with her partner.

“chris,” you started, walking over to him. his gun was quickly raised at you, and you slowed to a stop, raising your hands. “i’m unarmed, as you requested, i’m just a medic.”

his hold on the gun wavered but it didn’t lower, “what?” he demanded, and you swallowed.

“you can’t trust her- the woman. she’s taking orders from someone else.”

chris shook his head, “she’s taking orders from me.”

you shrugged, “chris, take a look around you. when this place is stormed- and it will be stormed, they are going to take all the bad guys, but right, now, i only see one.”

chris looked away from you, and you heard will walk up behind you, “she’s setting you up to take the fall for this, boy.”

chris peered at him, “that’s not true.” he stated, “and how would you know?” he snapped, eyes staring back at yours, “aren’t you just a medic?”

you nodded, “they told me. the feds- they told me they found evidence of that. you can’t trust her.”

the answer seemed to please chris, and he shook his head again, “that’s not true,” he repeated, and you shrugged, trying to act natural, “then where is she?” you asked. chris pointed to his right, “she’s back there.”

you heard will hum from beside you, “huh.”

chris got up all of the sudden, pointing the gun at you and will. “alright, you both, come here. i’ll show you.”

you and will exchanged a look, and he gazed behind you at something you couldn’t see.

“go on,” chris urged, and you began to walk with will, almost falling when chris pushed your shoulder harshly.

you and will were ushered into one of the rooms of the bank, where a few black duffel bags were discarded on the floor. you dismissed them, too busy with the sensation of a barrel of a gun pressed against your back. the woman stepped out of a door, eyebrow raised as she studied at you.

“what the hell are you doing down here?” chris asked, pushing you and will aside to point his gun at the woman.

“calm down,” the woman responded calmly, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

chris didn't like her answer, shaking the gun, “tell me.” he demanded, and a sour look passed by the woman’s face.

what happened next was a blur. the woman muttered something to chris and he picked up the duffel bags, ushering you and will outside. you dropped the bracelet emiliano had made for you outside of the door- in the hope that someone of your team would find it- before you were pushed into the backseat of a car.

on the road, you looked around, trying to figure out where you were and making sure will was okay, while the woman- who you heard chris call izzy- played the recording of the bank on a loop in front of you. you pried your eyes away from the screen, instead trying to form a plan in your head.

“what the hell is that? you recorded it?” chris asked, but izzy didn’t look up, too preoccupied with the images on her tablet.

“i’m talking to you, izzy!” chris said, “you planned this whole thing,” he thought out loud, looking back at the road, “you didn’t tell us any of it, you set us up.”

izzy wasn’t paying any attention to him, but chris continued to talk, “you killed my brother.”

at this, izzy responded, but she still didn’t look at him, the gun in her other hand still pointed at you, “no, that would be him.” she stated, bored.

chris eyed at you and will from the rearview mirror. “how do i know they aren’t your partners?”

izzy watched you, “why would i work with them?” she questioned, and chris was getting increasingly frustrated, “why would you do any of this?”

izzy took her eyes off yours to turn to chris, who glanced at her. “fbi said you got somebody else.”

izzy smiled, “you sound jealous.”

chris raised a gun to her, “who is it?”

izzy rolled her eyes in response, “put that away. this isn’t about revenge, it’s about survival.”

a confused look passed over chris’ face, and izzy continued, “if you haven’t figured it out yet, i’m your only way out of this mess.”

chris moved the gun from her to will, “alright, let me kill them so we can get on with it.”

izzy shook her head, eyes drifting back to the tablet, “we need them.”

“why?”

izzy’s was now distracted by the video, replying distractedly. “leverage. we need to fix him up.”

“and how do you propose you do that?”

izzy shrugged, pointing at you, “she can do it.”

you shook your head, “i can’t, i don’t have my medical bag. and even if i did, i don’t have what i need to do anything.”

izzy was attentive at this, and she gave instructions to chris, driving to an unknown destination.

-

shit, you thought, staring at the outside of your window when the car pulled up to a fire department. you flinched when chris opened the door to your side and pulled you out, a gun held against your back. izzy did the same to will, standing behind the ambulance door and demanding the medic to fix will.

you were shoved to the wall, a gun against the side of your chest and a promise you would die if you moved whispered in your ear while will was getting fixed up. you only heard a gunshot when you were back in the car with will and chris, and you shared a look with will, fingers curling around the cushion of the car in frustration.

-

izzy was taking a call, the voice from the other line muffled, and you couldn’t make out who it was or what they were saying.

she gave a location when she hung up, but chris locked his jaw and rounded the corner harshly, parking the car.

“i’m not going anywhere until you tell me the plan,” chris declared, and within a second, izzy had moved the gun from you to chris, shooting him twice.

you flinched at the loud noise, looking from chris to izzy. “what are you doing?” will asked, and izzy shrugged, “he talks too much.”

“go ahead officer, get him out,” she ordered. “and do what, just leave him there?” will asked.

“yes please.”

she turned to you before will got out. “if you move an inch, i will kill him.”

you only nodded, staring at her as she motioned will to leave the car.

when chris was out, writhing on the floor, she glared at you. “you’re driving. get out.”

i can leave, but i can’t leave will here and she’ll shoot me for sure if i run. will can’t fight her right now. without a safe option, you agreed, eyeing will as he entered the backseat again, and you climbed where chris resided, only able to stare as izzy hastily cleaned the blood off the seat.

when you were inside, hands on the wheel, she pointed a gun at will, “go ahead. drive.”

so you did.

-

you stopped where she told you, watching in the rearview mirror as the hostage will had been talking to climbed in, patting will on the back. “hey will. you see that?”

“i want to do it again,” izzy smiled, watching the man- matthew as izzy referred to him. “we will,” he assured.

izzy turned back to you, “drive. you know the way.”

you glared at her, unmoving. she frowned, shoving the gun into your ribs, “drive,” she hissed. when you still didn’t react, she squeezed will’s gunshot wound, pushing the barrel on the side of his head. “or he dies.”

“drive,” matthew stated simply, and at the sight of izzy’s finger dancing around the trigger, you did.

-

you could only tighten the grip you had on the steering wheel when you parked in front of your mother’s house, already spotting her playing with emiliano on the lawn.

izzy was staring at you, admiring the frustration on your features, “come on, medic,” she urged, pointing the weapon at you again before putting it in her bag.

you opened the door of the car and walked out, forcing a smile on your face when izzy leaned up to your ear, “you better play nice, or i’ll kill them all.”

you picked up your son when he saw you and squealed, his little arms wrapping around you. you kissed his forehead, “hey bug, i gotta talk to grandma, how about you go back to playing?”

“okay, momma,” emiliano nodded, and you put him down, watching as he ran over to one of the play houses you brought for him.

“hey honey, what are you doing here? i thought you and spencer were supposed to come later?” your mom questioned, her eyes scanning over izzy.

“have you been watching the news?” you queried, and she shook her head, “i heard what happened on the radio, is spencer still working?”

you nodded, “yeah, i wanted you to go with molly because of everything that was going on.”

“are you sure? i can stay,” your mom assured, and you shook your head. “no, no, it’s dangerous right now, and i trust molly.”

your mom looked back at izzy, asking a question with her eyes. “this is izzy, one of the detectives, she’s going to watch over emi.”

“okay, are you sure?” she asked again, and you nodded, relieved you had set up a safe word with her and that she had remembered. she only glanced back at you and emi before she got into her car, “call me for anything.”

you didn’t respond, calling your son, “c’mon, emi, let’s go inside.”

emiliano skipped ahead, running into the house, past you and izzy, who had been surprisingly quiet.

you turned back to her quickly, “if you touch him, i will kill you,” you promised, and izzy didn’t flinch. “if you touch me, he kills will, then a certain spencer reid, then you. you wanna leave your kid an orphan? be my guest.”

you clenched your jaw, glaring at izzy until emiliano ran up to you, tugging on your arm.

“momma, can we watch a movie?”

you took a deep breath and crouched down to him, offering your son a smile as you shook your head, “i can’t, not right now, bug, i have to work, so you’re going to stay with izzy and play with her for now, okay?”

emiliano nodded, and you kissed his head, assuring yourself you would not lose him, and he wouldn’t lose you. “i love you, bug, daddy and i will see you soon.”

emiliano smiled at you and planted a kiss on your cheek, giving you one more squeeze before you straightened up, staring at izzy for a second.

you walked out, hands trembling as you climbed back into the car, wanting more than anything to run back inside and take your son to his father, where you knew he'd be safe. but it wasn't an option right now. because right now, you had to leave your baby with a serial killer and you had to go sit in the car with another one.

[asterroidd]

tempt fortune

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word count: 4.5k

↬ Warning/s: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, slight NSFW (?)

↬ Synopsis: Too deep in an argument with Hange in attempts to prove you are—in fact—not a virgin, you’ve accidentally lied blurted out that you and Levi are in a relationship.

↬ Notes: Tysm for the request anon! I had way too much fun with this prompt lol.

↬ Minors do not interact. Go away, shoo shoo!

8th prompt:  “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   The night was murky and dark with only the shine of the moon serving as a way to illuminate the streets of the city. Trees stripped bare as a sign of the forthcoming change of seasons, and a milky white fog had encompassed the city’s canals and dark alleyways. The crisp, cold air makes the hair on your skin stood up and shiver despite the layers of clothing you wore.

    Though, that feeling will dissipate away as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hits your taste buds and enter your system.

    Earlier that day, Hange and Petra had invited you to a night out to the local pub to wash away the fears and tension of being soldiers of the Survey Corps. A guilty pleasure of some sort, just a way to rid the jitters of being eaten by a titan outside the walls. Despite the three of you being veterans, neither of you could ever shake the feeling of death’s cold hands resting on top of your shoulder.

    That said, two of your best friends walked alongside you. Arms hooked with one another for warmth and for comfort. Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the destined place: the pub.

    There are a couple of tables already taken, but the place is not too full. Even with that, the pub is still quite energetic; with men hollering and throwing their heads back as they chat with one another, weak threats that are carelessly thrown around by drunk individuals looking for a mock fight, and of course the iconic clink of glasses against one another as toast.

    “What are we drinking tonight?” Petra asked. She claimed a seat at an empty table, in which you and Hanji followed suit.

    “Whiskey!” Hange announced to which brought a grin on your face.

    "Getting wasted, I see.“ You shrugged your jacket off and placed it neatly by your side. "Isn’t it Petra’s turn to treat us?”

    The female in question instantly whipped her head to face you, a shocked look evident on her face. “I don’t recall making such promises.”

    "You sure did!“ Hanji added. "We made a bet weeks ago. Debating whether or not Erwin grooms his eyebrows every morning.”

    "In which we won, by the way.“ you said with a smug look on your face. "The commander does indeed groom it and even has a special comb for it.”

     “Not fair!” Petra pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and giving Hange the puppy dog eyes in attempts to save her poor wallet. Which was futile, the brunette stuck her tongue out and shook her head. While Petra and Hange continued with their debacle, you took it upon yourself to call the attention of a barmaid. She gave you a beaming smile, her golden locks neatly tied into a bun and crow’s feet visible beneath her eyes. She approached the table wherein the three of you are situated.

   “Two bottles of whiskey and three mugs please,” you spoke, not even bothering to wait for her to speak up. She nodded before strolling towards the counter to prepare your order.

   Petra slumped her weight onto the table as she heaved a sigh in defeat. “Fine. It’s my treat tonight.”

   You and Hange cheered in delight, successfully evading a huge loss of money given that whiskey is quite expensive. The continuous catastrophic storms that beleaguered the farmlands had made an extensive disastrous effect on the supply of barley and wheat. Which, like a domino effect, limits the supply of whiskey within the walls. Increasing the price of the said beverage more than two-fold.

   It was a good thing that you put faith in your instincts and thus won the bet.

   “How’s the research going, Hanji?” Petra changed the topic.

   The brunette let out a drained sigh, “Levi had to kill Hughes.”

   “Hughes?” You piped in. “The eight-meter class aberrant titan we caught last time?”

   Hange nodded, “He was a good man. An honest man.” She spoke of the titan as if it was her long lost husband that died in a war.

   Then, she started blabbering on and on about the experiments she had done to the beast; piercing its eye to count the regeneration time, plucking one of its teeth out to see if it would disintegrate, and many more.

   You would’ve stopped her then and there if it weren’t for the barmaid approaching your table with a tray of glass and two bottles of whiskey. You internally cheered, Hange had told stories about Hughes a couple of times already that you basically had memorized it all.

  The three of you wasted no time in popping one of the bottles and pouring the bitter liquid into the cups.

  "To friendship. And condolences to Petra’s wallet.“ You raised your glass up to which the two mirrored. With one satisfying clink of the glass, you swallowed down its contents in one gulp. Your face contorting in an unattractive expression as the alcohol slid down your throat.

   "I was planning to buy a book that I wanted. But it looks like it would have to wait for the time being,” Petra said, pouring another glass of whiskey.

  "Pshh,“ your brunette friend snorted. "You have Oluo to buy anything you want.”

    Instantly, blood rushed to Petra’s face upon hearing the male’s name.

    You joined in the teasing. “Oh yeah. You two are a thing. Now, aren’t you?” 

   “We’re not!” your friend slammed her fists on the wooden table. “We’re just friends!”

   “Oh really?” Hange swished the whiskey around the glass. “That’s not what I heard the other night.”

   She leaned in close to whisper. “I heard moans coming out of his room.”

   Petra sucked in a breath in shock, her eyes widening in shock and mouth slightly agape. “I- it’s not…it’s–” she said but she was a stuttering mess.

   “Already in that stage, I see.” You playfully nudged her. It was an ongoing comical joke in the base that Oluo and Petra are in a romantic relationship after the male flat out publicly confessed to her one night in the mess hall. The room immediately erupted in a mess as howls and catcalls are heard. Ever since then, both of them are continuously teased.

    “Say, (____)…” Hange trailed off, her fingers curling around the shot glass. Gulping the remaining liquid down her throat before continuing, “Are you a virgin?”

    You let out an inhumane sound in shock. Borderline choking as you tried to swallow down the whiskey caught in your throat. Petra saw your discomfort in which she assisted you by lightly patting you on the back as you coughed air out.

   “What kind of question is that?” you said after your body stopped jerking.

   Hanji gave you a lop-sided smile. “Just that we are nearing our thirties. Who knows when we’ll breathe our final breath? The least we could do is experience getting laid before that happens.”

   “Well, are you a virgin?” You answered with a question.

   Hange rests her chin on top of her open palm. “Nope, though it was a one night stand.”

   You sweat buckets, you never had someone popped your cherry before, let alone a serious relationship that is romantic.

   Are you the only one left that hasn’t got laid?

   But it’s not your fault! You were just too caught up with military services that love never crossed your mind

   Or did it?

   Your mind wanders off to daydream about the small and petty crush you have with a certain captain.

    There is just something so captivating about the way his silver eyes met yours the first time you saw him. How his raven hair looks neat every time and you could only guess how soft it would be to touch. Not to mention his impeccable skill with the 3dmg maneuver gear and its blades.

   Yes, it was none other than Captain Levi himself. But it was all just a petty crush! A small rosebud of admiration that had blossomed as you fought alongside the male and got to know him better each passing day.

    “Well?” Hange snapped you out of your thoughts. “Have you or have you not gotten laid?”

    You cleared your throat, you didn’t want to look foolish in front of your friends. Given that the two of them had their own fair share of experience in the topic. They would tease the hell out of you and soon enough, the whole base would do as well.

   Lieutenant (____), the virgin soldier. You don’t want things to be that way.

    “O-of course I did,” you puffed your chest out more to elicit fake confidence.

   Petra cooed, “Really? With who?”

   You thought of the closest male in your personal bubble. “Levi!”

   To say that the two were shocked was an understatement. They were both flabbergasted. Never in a million years would they expect that you and Levi had a relationship, let alone sexual intercourse. The two, in fact, never saw him and you close enough that would draw out a romantic vibe. So they are completely blown away and confused at the same time.

   “Bullshit,” Hange said. “Shorty is one lonely man that has no love in his system.”

   “I-is too!” you stuttered out, hand flailing around in panic. “In fact, he is my fiancé.”

   Okay, that might be a stretch.

   Petra slammed her hands against the table to which garnered half of the customers’ attention. “Get out! No way!”

   “Yes way!” You countered. So far so good, now all you had to do is convince them that you and Levi are actually a thing. Which was easier said than done since you would need to bribe or annoy the male enough that he would give in to your pleas.

   Though, Hange is still unimpressed as evident with her pouting lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Prove it then, show us that the shorty and you are actually a thing. I would bet half of my salary this month if you could show us that Levi is capable of love.”

   “Bring it on four-eyes!”

   And so begins the downfall of your life.

    Levi had a sick feeling in his gut; a hunch that for the next few hours, he would have a shitty day. However, he couldn’t say for sure what would cause such disturbance to his day. His gut feelings were never wrong, it was an innate sense that he had ever since he lived in the Underground. So he was sure something would happen, he’d have to be more careful.

    That said, he instantly regretted the way he jinxed himself.

   There you are, standing outside of his office at two in the morning. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, constantly shifting your weight from one foot to another as you refuse to make eye contact with Levi. Bashful eyes kept staring down at your feet whilst you find the words to make one coherent sentence.

   “I have something important to discuss with you,” you murmured to which Levi quirked a brow. What did you want now that it couldn’t wait until the sun rose up in the sky?

   The male crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on the doorway. “What is it?”

   “Please pretend to be my lover.”

   Levi blinked, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open slightly. Though, he regained back his usual composure in a split second. He narrowed his eyes at you.

   You want him to do what now? Is this some kind of prank or sick joke that you thought of?

   Taking note of his silence, you decided to explain to him your situation that needs his immediate cooperation and attention.

   “You see…” you sucked in a breath. “I kind of lied to Hange and Petra that I got laid and it was you who actually took my virginity. Hange didn’t believe a word that I said and uhh-… Things got out of hand and I told them I was your fiancé.”

   What?

   Levi sighed through his nose, an exasperated expression on his face. “So this is what it’s all about.”

   “Yes. And now I need you to play along and pretend to be my significant other.”

   The male scrunched his face up in disgust, “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   You fought back a sob, “Please. I beg of you, Levi.”

   “No.” Levi shook his head. “No way. Don’t drag me in your own bullshit.”

   The male was about to close his door but you grabbed him by his sleeve. Clutching on it until your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t just let him shut you out without agreeing to play along. You’d do whatever it takes just to get Levi to pretend to be your lover.

  "I’ll buy you the expensive black tea.“

   His ears twitched, now that piqued Levi’s interest. You smirked as he froze, you knew that he has a soft spot for tea. And tasty, expensive ones at that matter.

    Levi chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered over his next words. The male was supposed to be keeping his hands busy by signing and writing the documents that started to pile high up on top of his desk due to Hanji dumping her workload on him. Levi sighed through his nose, fingers massaging his temple. "How long?”

   “What?” You tilted your head to the side.

   “Tch.” Levi clicked his tongue. “How long do I need to pretend to be your lover?”

   Levi swore that the minute he let go of those words, stars danced in your eyes.

  "We just need to convince the others.“

  "And then?” He asked.

  "And then? What. . ?“

  Levi internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Was it really worth the risk?

  "Are you expecting that we keep the act up?”

  Oh, so that is what he meant by it.

  "Well,“ you rubbed your chin with your fingers in deep thought. "We could stop the acting after a few weeks? We’ll just tell them we’re too busy and shit that we couldn’t maintain the relationship anymore.”

  Levi shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me.”

  You squealed in delight as you threw your arms around his neck, showering him with gratitude and compliments.

   Looks like black tea does the trick.

   The sun already rose from its slumber, showering the lands with its soft rays of light. Levi had a scowl ever-present on his face as soon as he stepped out of his office room. He knew that something was wrong. Something out of place as he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the base that would normally be heavy and tense.

  Still, he persisted on shrugging the thought off and continued with his daily morning routine: which is to quickly brew a cup of tea before the mess hall becomes full with people. Levi walked down the halls, a handful of soldiers are already awake and fully clothed with the Survey Corps uniform. They gave him one brief and firm salute as he passed by them. Though, Levi swore that he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

  When the male arrived at the mess hall, he was surprised to see most of the superiors—along with his squad—are mingling with one another at a table. His mind screamed danger, telling his body to turn around and hide in the comforts of his office. However, Levi wasn’t going to give up his morning cup of tea just because he felt uneasy.

   He slid inside like a shadow, going unnoticed by most of his friends that was too energetic today for his tastes. They were chatting loudly about miniscule things; the weather, training later on the day, gear inspection that needs to be done, and the like.

   Levi wished that he would be overlooked, that their banter would be noisy enough that he could peacefully grab a cup of tea and run back to his office. Though that wishful thinking of his soon come crashing down when Hange’s cheery voice called out to him.

  “Mornin’ shorty! Come sit here beside us! We already have tea brewed for you!”

  Levi internally groaned, gripping the empty cup in his hands tighter. The brunette just had to have an innate sense in locating where Levi is. Reluctantly, he left the porcelain behind and walked towards the table. You were nowhere to be found, which was a huge relief for him since Levi doesn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning.

  “What’s with the shit-eating grin?” he took a seat beside Erwin.

  “(____) told me something important last night,” Hange wiggled her shoulders.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, “What do you mean?”

  Levi heard Erwin laughing beside him, the blond’s shoulders bouncing up and down. He then placed one palm on top of Levi’s shoulder.

  “Congratulations, Levi! Didn’t knew you were engaged.“

  Hold the fuck up. What?

  Then it dawned on him. He remembered you outside his office in the wee hours of the morning, begging him to play along with your petty bullshit just for the sake of preserving your dignity among your peers.

  Levi couldn’t believe that he would start acting right away. He haven’t had a sip of his morning tea. 

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing the cup of tea that Eld placed in front of him. Levi doubts that any of them could perfectly brew tea that would meet his standards.

  “What?” Oluo joined in the conversation. “So it’s true then?”

  Levi grumbled, taking a sip of the leaf infused hot liquid. He relished the dark and malty taste of it sliding down his esophagus before responding. “Any problem with that?”

  The male shifted in his seat, “N-no, sir… Just that I am shocked.”

  “We all are,” Erwin chuckled. “We never expected it.”

  “You are a man of a few words, after all.” Petra added. “Still, we are happy for you, captain!”

  Levi stayed silent, if he knew that by accepting your bribery would open Pandora’s box of headache and irritation in his life, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Still, he was hopeful that only those close to him are informed of the arrangement. That you wouldn’t go so far as to spread the news around the base. 

  Scratch that. Everyone knew that Levi is your fiancé.

  By the time midday rolled around, Levi was the center of attention much to his displeasure. Of all the years he had served in the military, never did he expect that one small arrangement done at two a.m. would have dire consequences.

  All for the black tea. Levi chanted in his mind. Dealing with this bullshit for a box full of expensive black tea.

  Whispers could be heard, though he paid no attention to it, dead set on finding you to ask what in the ever-loving fuck is going through your brain for letting everyone know.

  Ah, speak of the devil. There you are, by the horses’ stables. Your hands reaching up to caress the nose of your horse, a giggle escaping your lips as its tongue darted out to tickle you.

  “(____),” he called out.

  You whipped your head around to the sound. Then your smile grew wider as you saw it was Levi.

  “Hey!” you replied while wiping your wet hand on a towel. “What’s up?”

  The male groaned, you are too casual about it.

  “Care to explain why does everyone in the base knew that we are engaged?” The word rolled off his tongue like venom. “I thought it was only Hanji and Petra?”

  Your smile wavered down, replaced by a bashful one. “Well uhh-…you see. Hanji kind of started the rumors which quickly spread like wildfire.”

  “So it’s not my fault,” you threw your hands up.

  Levi sighed exasperatedly. He should’ve known that the source would be four eyes. The brunette had caused more trouble than Levi could count within his fingers. He recounted countless times where she knocked on death’s door willingly when Hange placed her head inside a titan’s mouth. Who does that?

   A maniac with a death wish, and that is what Hange is.

  “Never mind that,” you trailed off, motioning the male to come closer. He rolled his eyes before obliging. “I have a plan that could finally get Hange off the radar,” you continued.

  “And that would be?”

  You looked side by side, eyes scanning the surroundings in case someone is eavesdropping. Once you considered the coast was clear, you told Levi the plan. “Hanji would be dropping off a stack of paperwork later this evening.”

  Levi doesn’t already like where this is going.

  “We could pretend to have sex in your office, loud enough for her to hear it. That for sure would convince her.”

  You wanted to do what now?

  “Wait, hold on.” Levi shook his head, slowly trying to digest your words. “You want us to have sex?”

  “We’re not really going to do it!” you slapped his shoulder blades. “Just create some noise and thuds here and there to make it seem like we are doing it.”

  The male internally groaned before hesitantly agreeing with your plan. If it means that this stupid fabrication of a relationship would be done, he’d follow suit.

  You could hear the loud pounding of your heart inside your ribcage as you sat on one of the chairs in Levi’s office. Patiently, waiting for the fated moment where Hange would be knocking on the door. Butterflies flew around in your stomach, you couldn’t believe that Levi would actually cooperate with the stupid plan you had just conjured up at a moment’s notice.

  The thought of him moaning and grunting made your core burn with desire. As much as you want to calm yourself, you couldn’t help but stir up images and scenes in your mind as to how Levi would look like while having sex. You don’t know which was a better view: him on top of you or you riding him.

  Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy that you couldn’t resist the man?

  “Oi,” Levi called out to you. Though, his eyes never left the paper in his hands as he scanned it. “Quiet down will you? Your foot tapping against the floor irritates me.”

  Oh, it was a mindless action of yours when you get too nervous. By bouncing your legs up and down, it helps you calm down and ignore the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Nonetheless, you mumbled a quick apology to the male then resorted to fumbling with the collars of your uniform.

  Soon enough, you heard the soft humming of Hange outside, her footsteps increasing in sound as she draws near the door. You and Levi looked at each other, it was showtime.

  You abruptly stood up, arms flailing around as you glanced between the male and the door. Wait, what do you need to do again? And why is Levi still sitting in his chair and not doing anything?

  “Levaii!” Hange knocked. “I got more paperwork for you!”

  The doorknob rattled, but you instantly had the metal in your grasp in attempts to keep the female out of the room.

  “Huh…?” you could hear Hange utter. “Levi?”

  In a panicked state, your mind blanked out as words fail to escape your lips. You shot a pleading look to Levi, to which he rose a brow.

  Help me you bitch! You mouthed.

  He shot you a confused look. It’s your plan, do it, the male mouthed back.

  You gulped down your saliva, shaky hands gripping the doorknob tighter as the brunette jostle it. Time seemed to stop as you suddenly remember one hole in the plan. One important thing that you have overlooked that could potentially blow your cover.

  You don’t know how to moan.

   A soft whine emanated from your throat. The things you have to do just to preserve your dignity.

   “DON’T COME IN! WE’RE uh-… WE’RE HAVING SEX!” you shouted on top of your lungs, too distressed to rethink your words all over again. But now it was too late.

  “W-what?” Hange’s voice was muffled by the wooden door.

   “Levi. Moan. Now.” You whispered, practically begging the male for his help.

   “Why do I have to moan?” he stood up and made his way around the desk to approach you.

   “JUST-… Just create one sexual sound! A grunt, a moan, a whine! I don’t care. Just make a sound.”

   Levi shot you an irked expression, his nose crinkling up. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to moan (unlike a certain someone), but because he had the initial thought that you would be moaning and Levi would be just hitting the wooden desk over and over again to elicit sex noises. Still, he felt his heart strings being pulled as he looked at your eyes with tears threatening to fall out of them. Your tearducts filled to the brim with the salty liquid. Levi would be a good guy for once, right? 

    He would surely regret his future actions. Big time.

   With a sigh, the male pulled you along with him to the couch. His hands guiding your hips to sit on top of his lap whilst he smashed his lips with yours. Air got caught in your throat as Levi’s hands roamed around—exploring every inch of your body—while his mouth moved in attempts to get yours to move also. You never expected that he would be pressing his lips against yours in a heated dance—a wet one at that matter. Levi’s tongue kept darting and swiping at your bottom lip, which was an oddly delightful sensation that it makes you want to—

  “Hngghh…”

  Moan.

  Your hands curled up, clutching Levi’s shirt and wrinkling it up in the process. Pleasure clouded your mind as hormones took over your system. Testing the waters, you opened your mouth—just a slight—so that his pink muscle could enter your wet cavern. And heavens above, it was such a blissful experience.

  Levi exhaled into the kiss to which the air slightly ticked your cheeks. He used one hand to bring your head closer to his so that he could taste more of you, while the other started peeling the jacket off of you, going just past your shoulder blades. A quiet moan slipped past your lips once again.

  “Okay, I call bullshit. I am entering,” Hange announced, prying open the doors only to gasp loudly upon seeing the scene before her. “OH. YOU WERE SERIOUS?”

  Levi broke away to glare at the brunette, “Tch. Do you mind? Four eyes?”

   You are in such a daze that you find yourself staring at Levi’s lips. In that brief moment, you already missed the feeling of his mouth against yours. 

   The female blinked, too stunned as she stared at the both of you. One powerless lieutenant, with your first few buttons undone and jacket slipping down, sitting on Levi’s lap. Your lower area flush against the male’s ever-growing erection. Not to mention the bewildered expression that you have with a lewd undertone. Hange swore that she saw a string of saliva between yours and Levi’s lips.

   “Ah yes. I’ll just place these here, no biggie. Hehe.” The brunette let out an awkward laugh, placing the stacks of paper in the corner of the room. “Have fun you two!”

  That said, Hange left the room. Her steps were heavy against the cobblestone floor as she rushed away from the vicinity. A grin on her face as she thought of spreading the news that you and Levi are doing at the moment in his room. Not even minding that she lost the bet with you since you had proved to her that indeed the captain is capable of love. A juicy information such as this is worth half of her salary for the month.

   Levi brought your attention to him by kissing you once again. This time, with more force as he pried your mouth open once again with his tongue alone. It was a slippery battle; one-sided, in fact, considering that you weren’t fighting back. You simply let him wrestle with your tongue, yours and his saliva mixing in the process.

  Damn, you really couldn’t hold your moan in this time.

  “Would you look at that?” Levi pulled away. “You know how to moan, after all.”

  You swore, the tips of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk and there was a dark glint in his eyes.

  “Wh-Wha—” you were a loss for words. “What did you—…What was that?”

  “It’s a kiss, dumbass.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Y-your tongue—”

  He rose a brow at you. “What about it?”

  You sealed your mouth shut, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Just… just don’t do that again.”

  Levi kept a firm grip on your waist as you wriggled. “Shut up, you obviously liked it. You even opened your mouth.”

  “Did not!”

  “Then why did you moaned into the kiss?”

  You suck in a breath, cat catching your tongue.

  “Though so…” he murmured, diving into your neck to pepper it with light kisses. Head too filled with pleasure, you gripped his shirt in your closed fists as you let out one shaky breath. It takes all of your nerves just to swallow that one moan threatening to come out.

  “Hng- Levi. You could stop now, Hange saw us already.”

  He hummed, pulling back slightly to gaze into your eyes. There was a hint of lust hidden within his silver orbs. You gulped, finding yourself wrapped around his fingers.

   “Why won’t we make your lie come true?” Levi sunk his teeth in your neck.

   Guess who is getting laid tonight.

[captain-ozone]

Fic Writer Review

Thank you for the tag, @flutteringdreams-matw​!! I loved reading your review, and I’m stoked to have the opportunity to fill this out myself, too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?  46. And not all of them have been transferred over from FFN. There’s at least another dozen between multiple fandoms over there, lol. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 656,571. My word. 

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?  When one of your fandoms is DC Comics...Does that count as one or several? LOL. xD

There’s been Merlin, Danny Phantom, Batman (Comics), Young Justice (cartoon), Teen Titans (cartoon), Titans (TV Show), Smallville (TV show), The Justice League (movie), The Flash (Arrowverse TV Show), Miraculous Ladybug, Harry Potter, Rise of the Guardians, How to Train Your Dragon, Sword Art Online (anime), Blue Exorcist (anime), The Bright Sessions (podcast). Might be missing some.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. Come Alive (Young Justice) 2. life, if well lived (Batman) 3. On Three (Miraculous Ladybug) 4. a million dreams (Batman) 5. Genesis (Danny Phantom)

@redriotted​ should be informed that my top two are fics she requested from me via prompts I’m sure neither of us expected I would ever fill. Love you, dear! I credit you for these fics!

5. Which of your fic do you want more attention for?  Difficult question for me to answer. I’ve been gifted with lovely feedback on most of my work. I guess if I were to choose one it would be Locking Up the Sun (Batman)? It’s a Fantasy AU. A fantastic exercise in world-building. I had so much fun with it that I’ve been playing with the idea of spinning bits of it into an original work.

6. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? YES. I try to respond to every review and comment I receive. I understand it takes a lot of time and energy for some people, but from the moment I posted my first Merlin fic in 2011, I needed to respond, even if with nothing more than a little thank you. And I’m not about to stop the habit. I met some of my dearest friends responding to reviews. I still meet wonderful people doing so. :) 7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?  Uhhhh, I’m not sure? I guess it depends on perspective. Most of my fics end happily, or rather, I am quite heavy-handed on the comfort part of the Hurt/Comfort trope. I do bittersweet more often than I do angst. I wrote a Merlin AU inspired by The Picture of Dorian Gray about Uther Pendragon that was pretty angsty? Grief was another one, also in the Merlin fandom. I’m sure there were some in my FFN Merlin oneshot collection Rabbits and Bathroom Breaks that apply, but lord knows I hardly remember half of what I’ve posted in that monster. 

8. Do you write crossovers? Once. I wrote a Rise of the Guardians/Frozen crossover with an Elsa/Jack Frost pairing as a gift for a friend.  9. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Oh, of course. Who hasn’t? I’ve been cursed out more than once, too. It always stings, but it’s a matter of stepping back and asking myself: is this constructive? will this make me a better writer? Once you frame the comment/review that way, it’s a bit easier to see that it’s unproductive to linger on it for long. It’s someone’s personal preferences and/or beliefs not aligning with your own. Or someone who can’t quite distance themselves from fiction enough to realize you are not always what you write, nor are you a reflection of the characters/plot you’re writing about.

10. Do you write smut? if so what kind? Rarely, and only as crack or as a joke. Nothing I would ever share in public. RIP Uther Pendragon/Troll fic of circa 2013-2014. I do so wish I’d saved you somewhere safe. 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, but I have no idea where they are posted or in what language. Most of the requests came over FFN, so I’m sure they’re available somewhere. In some capacity. 

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not quite. My friend and I wrote every other line of the aforementioned Uther/Troll fic in a chatroom, if that counts. 13. What’s your all time favorite ship? I’m far more interested in platonic/family relationships in pretty much every fandom I’m in. If I were to choose one? Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels from The Bright Sessions. Or Barry Allen/Iris West in The Flash.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?  *eyes Shift warily*

I KID. I made a promise over half a decade ago, and I intend on keeping it.  In all seriousness: A Merlin time-travel fic I started ages upon ages ago. I hardly remember what the point of it was. There is a fun scene I’ve considered posting as a oneshot more than once over the years, though, just because it makes me laugh.

15. What are your writing strengths?  Dialogue, I think? I love it. 

16. What are your writing weaknesses? Imagery/action. Give me a single scene focused on a conversation between two hopeless individuals that need some TLC and let me forget about where they are sitting or if they are sitting at all or if there are things that need describing around them, please and thank you.  17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?  I’ve done it, in some capacity. I used my knowledge of Latin grammar from old high school classes to try to write spells for Merlin fics. I probably butchered quite a few, lol. I think it’s important to use language as accurately as possible, though, if it were to be used at all. Most of the time I take the lazy man’s route and use dialogue tags and italics, just so I can avoid making ignorant mistakes. As a reader, as long as I have translations in front of me, I’m golden.  18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Merlin. I owe that fandom everything. 19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Come Alive. I don’t know that I have ever had so much fun writing anything in my life. a million dreams (my Flying Grayson time travel tear-jerker) and Not a Bit (my MLB Brothers AU, inspired by the original PV) come in close second. I dig my family feels, obviously. 20. What fic are you most proud of?  Shift, my Danny Phantom AU, if only because it’s been seven years since I posted its first chapter. Writing it has felt like pulling teeth at certain points, but it has been with me for a long, long time. Rereading it is like looking at a time lapse of how I’ve developed as a writer, lol.  Heart of Gold (Merlin) is another. Before Shift, it was the longest fic I’d ever written, one, and it was my first time really developing an OC/attempting a redemption arc as well. It was far from a perfect fic, but boy did I feel like a queen when I finished it. I’m sure you might’ve done something like this at some point, @cdelphiki, but here you go! @breynekai-tfc, too! And anyone else who sees and wants to share, please do so! 

[retroellie]

hi!! could i request ellie imagine/headcanon (whatever you want) where her and the reader used to be best friends but got separated for years until they reunite? like maybe the reader shows up in jackson

Summary: Reuniting with Ellie after being separated for 5 years 

A/N: Thanks for the request<3 I had this planned out so well but i got lazy lol, i hope you enjoyed and i added a bit of romance in it cause i’m a whore for this woman wbk (also again i didn’t proof read much so sorry) 

Warnings: None

Word count: 3.1k

You weren’t exactly sure where you were, all you knew was there was a town in front of you. Were they friendly? You had no fucking idea but you were exhausted, bloodied and bruised. This could just be a quick rest stop, you had nowhere to be and no one to see so it didn’t really matter much. 

“Stop right there!” a voice called out. 

“Hey! I’m not here to hurt anyone, I'm just a bit lost and I was hoping i could rest here.” You raised your hands in the air hoping they would just let you sit in peace for a minute. 

The man looked you up and down, trying to see if your intentions were good or not. He then whispered down to another man before turning back to you. You were silently praying he let you stay here, you just needed a couple hours.

“Okay, take her to Maria. You can leave your stuff over here.” He said, throwing a signal up. A signal that caused the door to open. 

You gave a small smirk of appreciation, so glad they let you in. They led you through the town, you saw how developed and advanced they were. There was running water, food gardens and even electricity. You’ve been around and you’ve never seen anything like this. 

They led you into a bar. There was actual food, not just beans that you have been eating for weeks straight. Your mouth was almost watering when you saw the meat and fresh fruits they had been serving. 

“Maria, we got a friendly or we think she is.” The man said. 

The woman, or Maria, was a tall blonde. She looked no more than 40, if her hair wasn’t greying you’d say she was in her early 30′s. She looked over at the 2 men and then at you, examining you. 

“You take her weapons?” She asked, sizing you up. You looked awkwardly between her and the men, her stare terrified you more than any infected out there. 

“Yeah, she’s clean.” The man replied. 

“Good, i don’t want to have to put a bullet in between your eyes.” She said, your mouth went dry. 

She signaled the men to leave and you wanted to go with them, you’ve been in rooms with men much bigger than her and so much more bossier but she terrified the hell out of you. She patted the seat next to her, not even looking over at you. 

“You look starved. Seth, get me something for this girl to eat.” She called out, she looked up at you. You tried not to make eye contact. “ What brings you out here.” She leaned closer to you. 

“Uh, I was out searching for supplies when some hunters attacked me. They killed my horse and stole some of my supplies, I chased after them but I ended up getting lost.” You explained, she sat there and listened. 

A man had brought you food, it was a burger and some fresh carrots. Not a combination you would go for but it didn’t matter, you were starved and you 're not gonna complain. You basically stuffed your mouth full of food, causing Maria to chuckled. 

“Well you're safe now, you can stay here as long as you need. Just don’t cause any trouble and we’ll be good.” She started, standing up from the table. “I’ll have someone come show you where you can rest when you get done eating.” She said, giving you a grin. 

“Thank you maria, you’ve been so kind to me.” You smirked up at her, mouth full of carrots. 

She shook her head and laughed, walking away. You continued to stuff your mouth with food, not caring if you were being impolite. They’ll understand, they’ve all probably been in your situation before. 

When your plate was empty, you decided to stay there for a minute. Waiting for the person that Maria sent to you. You looked at all the pretty paintings they had here, pictures of nature and horse, even some photographs of the people of the town. 

“I just don’t understand why they didn’t just kill her right then. It would’ve saved them the burden of making 2 more movies.” A voice stuck out to you, it sounded like you heard it before. 

You looked over past everyone and saw no one familiar, you did see a girl with auburn hair but that can’t be her, right? You saw her get bit, it couldn’t be. You just turned around, sitting back in your seat. 

“Oh hey, can i get a glass of water.” You said, perking up to ask the man who had given you the food. 

He gave you a small nod before disappearing into the back. You could really use a glass of wine or whiskey, but you didn’t want to be greedy. You sat back once more, your eyes feeling really heavy. This would be a nice place to live, it’s nice and cozy. 

“Ellie, it was the 80′s. They tried to drag out movies as long as they could.” A deeper voice said. 

That name, you thought to yourself before snapping your head back to look for the voice. You knew it wasn’t her, she was dead but you had to know who the hell this woman was. You looked at the auburn haired girl once again, trying to get a glimpse of her face. 

You watched her closely, studying her movements. She finally turned her head towards the bar, you saw half of her face. She had these freckles and you got a glimpse of her green eyes in the light of the bar. You sunk down in your seat, were you going crazy or is that her. 

“are you okay?” A voice said, you looked up to see the man with your water. You nodded. 

“Do you see that girl over there?” You asked, he looked over to where you pointed and he nodded. “Who is she?” 

“That is Ellie Williams, i don’t know much more than that.” The man said, leaving you once again. 

Your heart speeds up, pounding at an unbelievable pace. Was it really her? Should you go up to her? What would you even say? ‘hey sorry for leaving you and Riley to die, do you still wanna be friends?’ 

You sunk lower into your seat, hoping she didn’t see you. Every time you think of her, you see the way she did when she got bit or when she thought she got bit, or if she did get bit and somehow survived. You honestly have no fucking idea how she survived, you saw her get bit. 

You had a mental battle with yourself but you came to a conclusion, you were gonna talk to her. You felt so guilty about leaving them so if she beat you up or killed you it would make you somewhat even right? 

You slid out of the booth and walked over to her slowly, watching her and the man she was with talk about whatever they were talking about. Every step made your heartbeat a little more faster, ‘if she beats you up, you deserve it.’ you thought to yourself. 

There she was standing right in front of you, the man that was with her stared up at you confused about why you were hovering over her. You let out a sigh before you shaky tapped her. She turned around, you saw her full face and you couldn’t believe it was actually her. 

“Y/N?” She asked, letting a huge grin show before pulling you into a hug. 

You were so confused, why wasn’t she beating you up... you left her to die. You decided to hug back, feeling the warm familiar feeling of her embrace. All the memories of your childhoods together and little did you know 5 years later she would be a stranger to you. She let you go, still holding on to your arms. She looked at you up and down, seeing everything she missed for 5 years. 

“Why are you here??” She asked, still smiling 

“Uhh, I was attacked and I need a place to stay. so i stumbled on this place.” You replied, giving her a small smile. 

“Well,  you can stay here as long as you want. Your always welcomed here.” She grinded 

You were really happy to see her. You hadn’t been around other humans in a while so being here with your best friend, being safe again gave you such a rush. You had so many questions to ask her and you're sure she had some too.

“I thought you died?” You blurted out. She just let a low chuckled out and looked at her feet. 

“I thought you did too, i heard you got kicked out because of that entire “adventure” we had that day.” She started. “ i thought for sure you would have died out there.” 

That was a time you didn’t want to remember, you guys were just kids and they punished you like that. I guess 2 girls go infected that day, or 1 girl you guess. 

“Hey! I did pretty good out there, i’m still here aren’t i?” You joked. 

She laughed, looking over at the man she was with. He looked amused but confused, ‘you and me both man’ you thought to yourself. 

“Y/n, this is joel. He takes care of me I guess.” she said, causing him to nudge her jokingly. “And Joel, this is Y/n. She was my best friend back at that military school I was in. “ 

You reached your hand out to shake his hand, he looked down at your hand not used to shaking hands much anymore but he reached out your hand and shook it anyways. You smiled up at him, he was intimidating to say the least. 

“So you just passing through?” He asked, waiting for an answer. 

You didn’t really know honestly, this place was nice and Ellie was here so should you ask to live here or just pass through. You looked over at Ellie and then Joel, Ellie looked so happy. 

“Yeah, i was gonna stay a night here before i got back on the road.” You stated, Joel nodded and Ellie's smile dropped a bit. You knew she expected you to stay for good but that’s a really big decision to make at the moment. 

“Your staying the night!?” Ellie acted like she couldn’t believe it, causing you to laugh. “You have to stay over at my house! just like the good old days!” She was practically yelling, she didn’t change a bit. 

-

-

-

-

“You live in a garage.” You said, looking around her poster covered walls.

There were paint brushes and paint covering things. There were books upon books of space and comic books, it felt like her room back in Boston. That was the room you both stayed in when you got scared at night, she would always hold you while you shook. It’s the thing you should've done when she got bit, she was so upset. 

“You don’t like it.” She asked, plopping down on her bed. 

“No, i like it. It’s very...” You paused, picking up the rocket shaped lava lamp. “You.” You finished, setting it down. 

She laughed, shaking her head slightly. You walked over to her and plopped down on the bed with her, laying back. You watched the star covered ceiling. She laid back with you, her head right next to you. 

You both sat there in a comfortable silence, you had so much to say, you had it all planned out but now that you were here you didn’t know what to say. You thought about all the times you, her and Riley had together. You guys were always in some kind of trouble, always talking back to teachers and just being a pain in everyone’s ass.

“Remember that one time for my 14th birthday when you and Riley made this birthday cake for me.” You asked, smiling at the memory. 

“And we accidently set your bed on fire trying to light the candles.” She added, laughing out at the memory. 

You laughed with her, throwing your head back. You guys were such assholes back then, it’s so weird how things have changed. You guys were all such good friends and now look where you were. You and Ellie were together, staring up at fake stars in a garage without riley... 

You started feeling bad again, it was all so fast. You found someone who you thought was dead and all the memories flying back to you, it made you sick to your stomach. Riley's face, she was so scared but her being so strong tried to cover it up to calm Ellie down. You reached out for ellies hand, something you guys did a lot in her room at night. 

“You know, i always think about that night..” she paused, trailing off, thinking about what and how to say this. “That night when you kissed me” She finished. 

You remember, how could you forget. It was probably the best and worst day of your life. You had been in her room, just like how you were now. You were holding hands, the rain was heavy on the window. You don’t know how it happened or why you did it but you leaned down and kissed her, she kissed back. That was also the day Riley came back and you saw them both get bit, you saw the marks and you left. No goodbye. 

Ellie sat up on her elbows, looking down at you and you up at her. Her hand caressed t’s way down to your thigh, Your body reacted to her touch. As much as you wanted her you couldn’t, you can’t get the image of her face out of your head and it brought so many questions. She leaned down, her lips almost on yours until you pushed her away. You shot up and walked over to the couch before turning to her. 

“Did I do s...” 

“Why don’t you hate me.”  You interrupted, eyes starting to water a bit. 

“Why would i hate you?” She asked, standing up with you. 

You paced around a little bit, all the frustration you had was building up. You couldn’t even forgive yourself so why was she pretending it didn’t happen. 

“I left you and Riley to die, I freaked out and split. it’s my fault.” Your voice cracked a bit, tears starting to form. 

Ellie moved in closer, she didn’t know what to say. In the moment she just believed it wasn’t anyone's fault, things like this just happened; she never blamed you. She knew Riley didn’t either. 

“Y/n..” She trailed off, her own tears forming. “It wasn’t your fault and you didn’t leave us there. We told you to leave, you were just doing what we said to do.” She tried to calm you down, placing her hand on your shoulder. 

“I should’ve stayed, you two were dying and i left.” You burst into tears, taking a seat on the coffee table in the middle of the room. 

Ellie let out a sigh, she didn’t like to remember that day. It was horrible for all of you, she stayed at  the mall for a while after that waiting to turn but she never did. She eventually had to shoot Riley, making that experience 10x worse. She tried to find you but you were gone, so she had no choice but to go to the fireflies. 

“It’s okay, we got bit, you weren’t. we wanted you to get out before all of us died.” She tried to calm you down, she would never be mad at you for protecting yourself. 

“Even if it wasn’t my fault, you still got bit.” You said, locking her in a place she didn’t want to be. “What the fuck happened, why didn’t you turn.” 

A breath got caught in her throat, she wasn’t prepared for that. She knew she would have to tell you at one point but she didn’t know it was going to be so fast. She sat next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” She started. “I'm not supposed to tell anyone but you're my best friend and I trust you.” 

She told you everything, every single detail of her immunity. She pulled up her sleeve to show a tattoo covering a bite sized scar. That caused you to cry even harder, if you were to stay in Boston for a little bit longer you could have helped her.  You thought maybe you both meeting again was a sign, a sign of what you had no idea. 

“I’m sorry..” you started, placing your hand on her knee. “I’ve always just felt so guilty for living. I thought i should've died with you two and me leaving without even saying goodbye, it made me feel shitty.” 

She placed her hand on top of yours, holding it once again. You put your head on her shoulder, more tired than you already had been. From the crying and exhausting memories you could pass out right her. 

“I knew it would, you’ve always been such a sap.” She joked. 

You punched her playfully, giggling at her dumbass. You both sat there for a minute, taking in the feeling you both felt right now. You were both able to get out everything you felt guilty for and everything you’ve been hiding, it’s been eating at you for years. 

“You should stay.” She spoke, breaking the silence. “I mean permanently.” She clarified. 

You wanted to but will you two ever be the same, the kiss and the death you felt things have changed. Good or bad change you didn’t know, you just didn’t want to live here and remember Boston every time you looked at her. 

“I don't know ellie...” You replied. 

You could hear her sigh, she shifted around. She turned to you once more and stared you down. You could feel a whole lecture of why you should stay coming. You were pleasantly surprised when she leaned in once again but this time you leaned in as well. Your lips touched, syncing together. It made your heart pound a mile and minute, you thought at any minute you could have a heart attack. She finally pulled away, smiling at you. 

“Was that your way of trying to get me to stay?” You chuckled out, her smile dropped. She knew she couldn’t get you to stay, you were always a loner even in Boston. You caught on to her sadness. 

 “Cause it worked.” You said before pulling her into another kiss. 

-

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(Credit to gif owner) 

[the-silentium]

5²

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2770 words

Warnings: Swearing.

Requested by: @justalittleb1tcrazy​ & Anon

Hi! I love your work, and I have an idea/request if it’s not too much to ask :) i’ve been thinking about a continuation of the 11 Five fic (because I adored it) where the Hargreeves go back to 2019 like s2 and the reader is a part of Sparrow Academy and she’s slightly more edgy personality wise, or something like that lol

Hi! Just finished reading 11 and I sobbed so hard ngl,, would it be alright to ask for a part two?? Maybe it could be about how five goes on after wards, honestly I just need closure :(( it was so good,,,

A/N: Here’s 11 Part 2! Hope you guys like it! @justalittleb1tcrazy​, I already had the part 2 planned in my head, but you weren’t wrong with the Sparrow Academy! (almost) Also, the Sparrow Academy is totally OC, I didn’t go with the comics.

The days following your death were the most exhausting days Five ever lived. Between running around to gather his siblings and trying desperately to find a way back to 2019, losing precious time to sleep wasn’t even an option. He was running on the last bits of adrenaline his body could give him, the determination to find you back in 2019 and apologize profusely while holding onto you for dear life was enough to keep his body functioning for so long. 

When Klaus broke the circle to go fetch the cowboy hat, Five genuinely wondered if the homicidal rage was finally getting to him because the thought of murdering his brother with his bare hands seemed pretty enjoyable at the moment. His patience was running thinner by the seconds and the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream was doing nothing to appease his pulsion. 

As soon as the circle was complete again, the time-traveler visualised the right equations in his mind, warmth radiated through his hands and soon he jumped to the old mansion along with his siblings. 

For a second, Five let himself live the joy of the moment. He finally did it. His dream for the past 45 years was now fulfilled, by his actions the people he loved the most could live in a world where the apocalypse never occurred and will never happen, where they had a real future and where he could live the life he wanted back when he was just a kid in the skin of his now-adult body. 

He dodged Klaus’ open arms and closed his fists to jump to his bedroom, where he knew you were waiting for him to come back from the Icarus Theatre, but the familiar laugh bouncing around in the living room stopped his movement. His heart fluttered in his chest, his desire finally so near. He didn’t lose a second and jumped to the living room, his eyes searching for you excitedly. 

You were seated on the second floor, your legs between the railings slowly swang in the air, your eyes fixated on a book opened in your hands, its words bringing a beautiful smile to your lips. 

He didn’t recon jumping behind you, but next thing he knew, your back was facing him and you perked up at the soft old floor’s whine. 

“Five, you’re back!” The joy in your voice got him to his knees, the relief of finally being able to hold you alive and well in his arms was too much for him to handle. 

On an impulse, Five’s hands reached for your cheeks as you were turning your head to welcome him home, his desperation of the last couple of days showing through the not so delicate kiss he pressed on your lips. 

Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids, not because of the power of the moment like he expected but because of the powerful right hook you managed to land on his temple. Five fell on his ass, stunned, hurt and utterly confused. 

He opened his eyes to see you hurriedly get up from your spot and back away from him. He almost didn’t register the fear in your eyes before you tripped on a nearby bench and fell over. Always quick, Five jumped to your side and caught you before you touched the hard floor. 

“What’s wrong? It’s me, Five!” He asked, his voice laced with worry while his eyes searched your face for any clue of why you attacked him after clearly being happy that he was back. 

“You’re not Five.” You spat with anger. “Let go of me, asshole!” You jiggled in his grip, successfully freeing yourself without much of a fight, your words paralyzing him. It couldn’t be. 

His sibling’s footsteps along with their worried voices echoed around Five but none of their words reached him, his thoughts were way too loud for any sound to break through his mind. 

The answer was obvious. His siblings always managed to fuck up his plans, creating the biggest catastrophes everywhere they went and destroyed everything they touched. They had fucked with the timeline. They had fucked his dream. They had fucked his future. 

Just as Five thought he couldn’t be angrier, a new bunch of people joined your side, one particular brown-haired man wrapping you in his arms from behind and holding you tightly to his chest. The sight of another man holding you made his blood boil in his vein, the feeling reminded him of the deadly phase seven; homicidal rage. If you hadn’t gripped tightly the man’s forearm, Five would have definitely jumped into a fight he was sure to lose but needed beyond reason. 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Klaus’ voice broke the heavy silence of the room. 

The biggest one of the new group turned his head toward his brother and Five already knew what he was going to say. 

“We are the Sparrow Academy. I am Number One.“ 

Five’s eyes were still locked with yours, wishing for this nightmare to end or for you to break out of your act and confess that this was a very elaborate prank like you used to pull on him in your younger years. His salvation never came. 

"Shit.”

Five was surprised his family caught up with the events instead of being clueless as usual. 

Turns out their dad was disappointed enough of them during their meeting in the 60s that he adopted a completely different set of children instead. Five was sure that it wouldn’t hurt that much, knowing his dad replaced him, but it did hurt. A lot. After all he did to save the world, he was replaced like an insignificant object. Oh and to top it all? You fell in love with the current Number Five who can manipulate time as he willed. Out of spite, Five decided to call him Square from now on. 

The lack of sleep mixed with his jealousy was making him very snappy and on edge. When he was trying to stop the apocalypse the first time, you were the only one able to calm him down from his cumulated frustration and anger. You’d take his hand, lay your head on his shoulder and talk to him about anything and everything. 

Maybe it was delusional of him to think that even in another timeline you would remember him if he shared enough time with you. He couldn’t stop thinking that he was the original, the very first Number Five and that you belonged with him and not a pale copy, so he jumped to the kitchen where he knew you were making yourself a drink.

“Hot chocolate.” The sweet scent reached his nostrils and the memory of you showing him how to make it just like you liked played in his mind, stretching his lips into a fond smile. “You never changed.”

“I don’t like what’s bitter.” You shot him a wary look, clearly remembering that he jumped on you earlier. “I thought my Five made it clear, you altered the timeline. Even if another me was with you, I am not yours.” You mixed the hot water with the cocoa mix and turned to get what else you needed to make it perfect. 

You stopped in your tracks when Five showed you the vanilla essence and chocolate chips in his hands.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you took the items from his hands. 

“Happy to know some things never change.” Five stated, following you near the mugs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw you shoot him a glance when he reached on the shelves for a cup. 

“Do you remember your past and future lives yet?” He questioned as he prepared himself a pot of strong black coffee. 

“H-how do you know?” He was proud that finally your attention was completely on him. “My Five doesn’t even know.” Five tried to ignore the pinch of his heart when you stated that he wasn’t yours. 

“I know a lot about you.” He watched the black liquid fall from the coffee maker into the pot, hoping it would work faster. “Do you remember the 60s?" 

"I remember the French Renaissance, the US colonization and a bunch of other lives but no, I never lived in the 60s.” You frowned, your eyes moving away, surely trying to remember if you really lived in that period. 

“You did, you simply don’t remember it yet. If my theory is right, you won’t remember the 2019 life we had because everything changed in the 60s and erased it. This means that you’ll most likely remember the 60s some time soon and only then you’ll remember our 2019 because it happened back then.” His heartbeat accelerated at the perspective that you’d remember your affection for him and everything would go back to normal. Almost. 

“So you think because I’ll remember my past life I’ll leave my Five for you?” You scoffed. “You’re so frickin’ arrogant.” You grabbed your cup and turned around, preparing yourself to walk away from him. 

“I’m not arrogant!” His frustration exploded. 

“Oh yes you are!" 

"I’m scared!” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. Your furrowed brows relaxed and the insults on your tongue died along with your anger. 

“Why?" 

"I’m scared that I’ve lost forever the person who’s the most important to me. I survived 45 years in the apocalypse for you. I stopped an apocalypse for you. And you don’t even remember me.” At some point tears fell from his eyes, splashing into the cup tightly encased in his hands. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” His voice was merely a harsh whisper but you heard it nonetheless. He knew. 

Your footsteps walking away made him close his eyes in agony. Just like the day he found your tortured body lying in a pool of your blood. 

“Stop being an asswad.” You muttered before leaving the room. Five’s cup exploded between his hands, causing shards to cut into his flesh and blood to pool onto the counter. A small smile adorned his lips, a new flame of hope burning into his heart. 

You avoided him like the plague for the next following days, exiting every room he entered and eating outside the manor whenever you could. He found it quite irritating but he knew you needed the time to think. You were starting to remember, he was sure of it by the small glances he received from you everytime you fled to another room. 

He finally got some sleep, his dreams full of the comforting warmth of your arms, sweet words were whispered in his ears while one of your hands lightly combed his hair with your fingers. He desperately wanted to stay asleep, to never leave you again, but life was cruel and he always woke up, the reality hitting him like a brick. You would avoid him, again. He would die inside, again. 

After changing into his newly bought day clothes, Five jumped into the kitchen, his too great need of coffee controlling his actions. He found you seated on the counter next to the freshly brewed coffee pot, a book in hand, a hot chocolate cup in the other. 

“Good morning asswad.” You said without lifting your gaze from your line. 

Five noticed your grip tighten around your book as he made his way toward you. He stopped centimeters away from your knees, his gaze transfixed onto your evading eyes. He patiently waited for you to meet his gaze before bidding you good morning. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned forward, his arm outstretched to grab a cup on the shelve behind you. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as the others. 

He poured himself a cup full to the brim and carefully took a first gulp of his liquid addiction. He sighed at the taste, strong and bitter, just as he liked. 

“So I do remember it right.” You closed your book and put it at your side on the counter. Your eyes lifted to meet his, causing Five to almost drop his cup at your tired expression. “What am I supposed to do now?” You sighed and rubbed your face with your free hand. 

Five’s stress level skyrocketed. He knew what you were referring to. You were torn apart between living your present or allowing your past feelings to guide who you are now. He had wished the choice would have been obvious, that you would choose him without an ounce of doubt, but you were struggling. 

“My feelings for you were so strong that I feel them now a-and they confuse me so much. I never felt that for-” You stopped yourself but Five knew what you meant. You never loved Square that hard and he was glad. “But what we had was in the past and what I have with him is real.” Tears gattered in your eyes just as panic flowed through Five’s mind. 

“What we had was real! It’s still real now! You feel it and I sure as hell still feel it!” He put down his cup and softly placed his hands on your knees, desperation to prove his point showing in his eyes. 

“I’m just being overwhelmed by my past.” You shook your head as tears fell down your cheeks. 

“No you’re not. You’re panicking because you remembered me and fell in love with me through your memories. I’m the same man and you are the same woman and you know it!" 

A sob passed your lips and Five reached for your waist to pull you into a comforting hug. Before his fingers even touched your form, you disappeared. Stunned, he turned around to find you into Square’s arms, his angry eyes shooting daggers at Five. 

"Stay away from her.” He growled before disappearing with you. 

Five kicked the nearest chair, pissed off by the time manipulator. He could not fight with someone capable of slowing, quickening or even stopping time. He had to put his last hope in you.

Square stayed at your sides for the next two days. Five saw how his constant presence was getting on your nerves, you needed time alone and he was denying you that out of jealousy. 

Five was scribbling into his notebook when you walked up to him, definitely pissed off. Your hands were closed into tight fists and you huffed as you let yourself fall onto the couch next to him. You lifted your feet onto the cushion and hugged your knees. 

He wanted to reach out for you so much, although it was clear that you needed your space. He waited for you to start the conversation, apprehension eating at him. 

“They say ‘You can’t just give up on someone because the situation is not ideal. Great relationships aren’t great because they have no problems. They’re great because both people care enough about the other person to find a way to make it work.’” You took a deep breath before turning your head to meet his eyes. “I want to make us work. Like we always did." 

Five’s heart stopped. Not in agony this time, but in relief. Happiness overwhelmed his senses and quickly, he reached for you to pull you against his chest and keep you close while tears fell from his eyes as the stress lifted from his shoulder. Your arms snaked their way around his waist and for a moment, he let himself melt under your touch that he needed for so long now. 

"I love you.” He whispered the words he so desperately wanted to tell you in the 60s. 

“I love you too.” You snuggled deeper into his neck, your hot breath on his skin giving him goosebumps. “Thank you." 

"For what?” He frowned, genuinely wondering why you were thanking him. 

“You stopped the apocalypse, Five. You gave so much to save the world.” You pulled away, smiling at him brightly. “Thank you." 

Five realised that he was never thanked before for anything he had done for anyone. His composure melted and more tears ran down his face, the very first acknowledgement of his actions and sacrifices hitting him right in the feels. 

"I’d do it all again for you.” He replied with a broken voice, his throat constricted and tears drowning him. 

You pulled him into your chest after letting your feet fall on the floor, where he cried out of relief that you were still with him and out of exhaustion of everything he went through so that he could ensure that you and his family were safe.

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 5

The way I just impulsively wrote this because I’ve had sleepy Kuvira stuck in my head for days and I couldn’t afford to let this go! It’s sooo short so that’s why there’s no preview (in addition to how fast it happened lol) but I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! Can’t wait to start getting through your requests this week ❤️ Check out chapter 5 on AO3 as well!

Since crossing paths, you had cemented a perception of Kuvira as a woman who was steadfast, undaunted, and more than a bit intimidating. Of course, you understood there was so much more that made up this profoundly and wonderfully complicated human — even in the days where you’d fawn from afar, you knew there were depths to her that ran far beyond what she displayed to the world. 

Nevertheless, it would be foolish to say those characteristics weren’t Kuvira’s dominant traits and she would be inclined to agree. From an early age, she had learned to confront the world in this manner and she has come to enjoy this way of being. She finds immense satisfaction in knowing the slightest movement, word, or sound from her can profoundly alter her surroundings and the demeanor of those around her. 

Therefore, you found it fabulously endearing the day she began floundering about when and how you’d start sharing the same room.

It all began about a month into your newfound relationship. Neither of you felt ready to share it with the world — what you had discovered with each other felt far too precious to fall upon oblivious ears and you wanted to treasure it amongst yourselves for as long as you could. 

So you continued to spend time together as you had for so many weeks, sharing meals together or going on walks once everyone had retired to their quarters. With time, you carefully found ways to share more moments throughout the day: walking to and from meetings together, “debriefing” in hallways, or working in the same space. 

On this particular day, you had been reviewing the details of an incoming shipment contract while Kuvira sifted through the latest prototype proposals from Varrick. Despite having worked well on your own for so long, in those few weeks you spent closer to Kuvira you found it increasingly difficult to focus without her solid presence. 

You had been working in comfortable silence for about an hour when she spoke. “When are you moving into my quarters?” she asked plainly. You were about halfway through a paragraph when the inquiry threw you off entirely. You looked up at her with startled eyes. 

“I’m sorry?” you stammered. Whereas her face had been entirely indifferent moments before, your response prompted a distressed expression in an instant. It may not have been obvious to most, but you knew she felt deeply uncomfortable when her eyes tightened and her lips grew taut. 

“Forget it. It was an imprudent comment,” she responded uneasily. “No Kuvira, it’s okay,” you reassured her, keeping your voice soft. “You just caught me off guard is all.”

She appeared hesitant to continue but eventually spoke again. “It has been four and a half weeks since we began our romantic relationship,” she stated. “People are talking,” you added. Kuvira inhaled deeply and momentarily closed her eyes. 

“Precisely,” she replied. “I may be approaching this incorrectly but I believe the next appropriate step would be for us to share quarters, correct?” You stared at her wonderingly for a moment, steepling your hands beneath your chin and observing the overly proper way she carried herself. 

“Do you want to move in together because of that? People talking?” you asked. You knew your response was slightly cruel — Kuvira had clearly struggled to even broach the subject and now you were squeezing this out of her. 

But you needed absolute certainty. You needed to know that she wanted this for the right reasons and not because of the questioning glances of their peers. 

“No,” she said firmly. “Frankly, I couldn’t care less about their opinions. The only thing holding me back is...this is important to me. More than they could ever possibly comprehend. And I want it to be accepted as such. But I also can’t bear the thought of spending many more nights apart from you.”

That final sentence is what knocked the wind out of you and sprung you from your seat, striding over to Kuvira and standing just above her as she remained seated. You brought your hands to her face and offered her a watery smile, coaxing your thumb across her cheekbone. 

“That’s all I needed to know,” you murmured. You felt the weight of her head relax into your palms as she covered your hands with hers. “So will you consider it? Moving into my quarters?” she asked. 

“I don’t need to because I already know I will.”

---

Not long after that afternoon (the following morning to be precise), Kuvira confirmed your relationship to her officers. “I will not have rumors overpowering the efficacy of my army. You have your confirmation, now cease from engaging in such infantile habits and focus your attention to the matters at hand.” 

Only Bolin had eyed you from his place across the table, holding back what you could only assume was a congratulatory smile. You nodded minutely and returned your attention to Kuvira, glad to have moved past the moment that had left you anxious all night. Though you had to admit you found great pleasure in the near-comical way everyone in the room suddenly had an incredibly difficult time glancing in your direction. 

The transition into Kuvira’s room was relatively fast but that was to be expected. That slow build up to a swift culmination of action seemed to be characteristic of your relationship and you had no qualms about it. You liked that about your dynamic — it made sense. 

You had insisted on moving your things into her quarters yourself over the course of several nights. It wasn’t like you had very many belongings to begin with. Kuvira, being the discreetly attentive woman she was, would not have any of it and took it upon herself to assist you. 

The move took about two nights — between the two of you, you took full advantage of the night’s cover and successfully moved everything over without the wandering gazes of privates and sergeants. 

That first night carried an energy comparable to an electric charge. It felt like a pleasant buzz had overtaken the room and settled within each pore of your body, carrying the sensation to your veins until it felt as though you would burst from the feeling alone. 

You were folding your minimal collection of clothes and storing them into Kuvira’s — well, now your shared — bureau. Kuvira sat on the bed, watching you silently. As you tucked away the final shirt, you took a deep breath and turned to face her. It was clear neither of you really knew what to say next.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. You looked down to your feet for a few moments before answering shakily, “Honestly? I’m really, really nervous. But...I think in the best possible way.” 

Breaking her expressionless face, Kuvira stretched her legs apart slightly and extended her arms. Immediately understanding the motion, you took the three extra steps that closed the space between you so you were standing above her. 

With a sheepish grin, she wrapped her arms around your hips and rested her head on your belly. “Okay. Me too,” she whispered and in an instant you were confident you had turned into a gooey pool of unadulterated happiness. 

---

Since then, you have grown to cherish the night, most particularly that lovely and sleepy stretch  of time where you both settle into your respective routines and prepare for the rest of the evening. 

Today had been a notably explosive day (in more ways than one...you’re relieved to hear there were no major injuries in today’s engineering incident) and you were looking forward to getting back to your quarters all afternoon. 

You change out of your robe, tossing your damp towels in the hamper before stepping into your favorite set of cotton loungewear and returning to the bathroom. Kuvira has finished bathing and there’s a cozy film of steam hanging over you. She smiles faintly as she dries her hair and you lean over to press a soft kiss to her cheek. 

In moments, you easily fall into your practices. You turn the faucet on and wash your face while Kuvira stands at your side, pulling a brush through her hair and detangling the sodden locks. It’s a comforting tune: the familiar rush of running water and bristles combing through hair, the humorous swish of a rinsing mouth and bottle caps snapping open and closed.  

As always, she finishes before you and briefly touches her hand to your lower back before exiting. You wrap up your final steps, flick the lights off, and join Kuvira in bed. She’s lying beneath the covers with her hands beneath her head, thoughtfully gazing up at the ceiling and no doubt plotting her moves for the next day. 

You slide in and retrieve your book from the bedside table. It’s been a few nights since you’ve felt tranquil enough to read and you won’t pass up an opportunity to lose yourself in the refreshing verses of ancient Earth Kingdom poetry. You settle in close to Kuvira, pushing your fingers into her hair and delicately stroking through the tresses. 

A pleased hum vibrates in her throat so you continue the motion, using the other hand to keep your book up. It’s a challenge to turn the pages with your thumb alone but Kuvira is so comfortable and the thought of stopping sounds preposterous at this point. 

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes before she shifts beneath you, her eyes closed as her breath steadily slows down. You carefully pull your hand away from her head, bookmark your place, and switch off the lamp. When you slide onto the pillow, her eyelids barely flutter open and you can’t resist the dopey smile that curls along your mouth. 

You see this side of Kuvira every night and you have for months, yet the sight of those drowsy green eyes and locks of hair fanned across her pillow never ceases to make your heart clench in the most splendid way. It hadn’t taken long for you to decide this is one of your favorite sights in the entire world, only second to the way morning light filters through your curtains and casts an otherworldly glow to Kuvira’s slumbering face. Nothing on this side of the universe could possibly compare to that. 

As she watches you her eyelids blink slowly and she brings her fingertips to your face, sleepily dragging them across your cheekbones and your forehead. You breathe in deeply and notice the way your heart pounds harder against your chest, the way it only does this during these hushed pockets of time where nothing else exists except for Kuvira and the warm cradle of her limbs draped over yours. 

You press forward an inch until your knees touch hers and she looks at you expectantly. Ever the impatient one, she bridges the space between your faces and seals your mouths in a lazy kiss. It’s short and graceless but that makes it all the more marvelous to you. It’s your deep seated reverence for each other in its purest form and it conjures a stream of ecstasy to pulse through your body. 

It brings you back to that very first night, when Kuvira’s arms pulled you against her and you basked in the excitement of what this seemingly trivial change meant to you both. 

When she moves back, you are certain she is seconds away from falling asleep. You press a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose and pull the sheets higher over her shoulders. It takes a handful of moments before her face smooths out entirely and her breath falls into a heavy and consistent rhythm. It’s a marvel to see the stressors of the day literally melt off her face, replaced by the peaceful look only sleep can bring. Sometimes you wish you could offer her so many more hours of this undisturbed peace, away from the copious burdens she places upon herself...but instead you ensure she enjoys these few hours enveloped by the security you promise to always offer her. 

For now, you hope it’s enough. 

By the time you doze off yourself, your arm hangs across Kuvira’s waist — an ever present weight that reassures her you will be there in the morning and every morning after that.   

[wreckofawriter]

Music and Color

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: swears like once

Request: @margaritasfromabag Heyy lol seen ya request something else post and I’d think it’d be real cool for a Carl x reader where they’re like first at the prison and reader finds an old like disc player or something and her and Carl jam out to Pet Sematary by the Ramones? Ya know brings some cute little light to a bleek empty prison

A/n: I forgot I answered this right before my slump. I'm so sorry for the time it took to get this out. I hope you enjoy!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

    You weren’t sure when the killing no longer hurt. When you no longer flinched at gunshots or cringed at the growls. At some point it all just faded into the background of the grey haze you had begun to live in. After the farm, the small hope you had left for yourself disappeared. Now you just fought to live, to keep breathing. 

    The winter was cruel. The temperature never dropped too far but the constant hordes of the dead and lack of food and sleep kept any comfort far from your small group. Your vision was limited to peering over your gun as you cleared empty house after empty house praying for a dusty can or jar. 

    No one spoke much anymore. A few brief words of direction or a call for help was the limit to your conversation. You and Carl sat in silence in the back seat of the green SUV, gazes fixed out opposite windows. Your talks of action figures and cartoons had died long ago.

    When the cars came to a halt with a loud honk you felt the sudden urge to cry, something you hadn’t done in what felt like years. But instated you’re swallowed harshly and pushed open your door following Carl towards RIck who placed the two of you at the road, looking outwards. Your gun tightened on your hand, thumb rested over the safety. 

    “You think we’ll make it?” Carl’s voice startled you, your head snapping towards him quickly.

    “What?” 

    “I mean do you think we actually have a shot to live?” He repeated solemnly. 

    You hesitated for a moment, “I think its best not to think about it.” you finally answered quietly, eyes falling back to the dusty asphalt of the slopped road. 

    You didn’t notice the way Carl frowned, his own eyes dulling for a brief moment. 

    You felt strange being so loud. Months of silence engraved into your head making the yelling the four of you did feel strange. The walkers knew no difference as they crowed towards you, teeth snapping on the other side of chain link. You watched as Rick and the others cleared what used to be an exercise yard. Your yelling halted once all of the corpses had dropped to the ground. You entered the yard in some sort of strange haze, it didn’t feel real, the safety of your situation had to be false, a mirage. 

    You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, you split your time between staring up at the stars and circling the group, gun in hand as if you would be attacked at any moment. Your eyes often landed on Carl who slept so peacefully it hurt. His soft snores only keeping you more alert of the harsh world around you. 

    The paranoia didn’t seem to go away. Even after two weeks in the fortress you now considered home you felt uneasy. The silence was constantly screaming in your ears as you made yourself busy with mindless chores. Luckily your conversations had picked back up, everyone seemed more open, more normal. You and Carl had started hanging out again, re-reading battered comics and racing to see who could put together their gun faster. You won almost every time although you were pretty sure he let you. But there was always something lingering at the back of your mind, a door left open that everyone else had seemed to shut. So you kept your knife close and your gun closer. A small backpack always full at the end of your bed. 

    You always hummed as you worked. Carl had noticed it months ago, back at the farm as you did laundry or helped with dinner. You did it now as you cleaned your gun, a soft melody that he vaguely recognized filling the large room as you pushed a small brush into its barrel. It was overwhelmingly nostalgic for some reason. Suddenly Carl realized how much he missed music. 

    The tombs were strictly off-limits for you and Carl. Under absolutely no circumstances were you supposed to be traveling down in the dark as walkers roamed around you. Yet here you were, flashlight held in your left hand resting atop your right which held your small handgun, silencer far longer than its barrel. 

    You had both told yourself that this was simply to look for supplies, you both knew you were lying but neither spoke a word of it as you charged through the dank corridors, dodging groups of dead. 

    You cussed under your breath as the growls of walkers echoed in front of you, your way out suddenly closed off. You glanced around frantically, hearing the silenced shots as Carl began to engage with the small horde. 

    An unopened door caught your eye and you ran towards it calling Carl after you. You rammed your body into entry stumbling backward as it didn’t budge. You cursed snatching the doorknob feeling like a fool as it opened with an easy turn. You threw open the door, gun pointed in front of you, beam of light catching nothing as Carl scrambled in after you. You heard it slam shut the click of a lock following and sighed, hands falling to your knees as bangs and growls echoed around you. 

    “Well, we’re fucked.” You muttered slumping forward to your knees and hiding behind your hands. Maybe if you stayed there for a while everything would just go back to normal and it would be your mother banging on your bedroom door because you had locked her out again. Not some inmate’s corpse in the tombs of a prison you had dared to call home. 

    Carl glared down at you, everything in him screaming at him to be mad. It made him angry to see you give up so quickly. After everything you had been through you just gave up the fight. He swallowed his anger with difficulty 

“We’re fine.” He spoke with more certainty than he had, “Just help me look around okay?”

    You said nothing but got to your feet, Carl began towards the small corridor at the back of the room.

    “Why were we even down here?” You asked no one imparticular.

    Carl stopped eyes falling to his boots, “We need supplies.” 

    You scoffed, the sound of a drawer being busted open following, “No. Why were we really down here?” The boy didn’t respond but instead continued down the small hallway of darkness, eyeing the corner up ahead. 

    “We’re down here because we’re idiots.” You answered your own question, “We were down here for no other reason than to kill some already dead pricks and now we are going to die locked away in some cupboard like mice, after everything we are going to die being stupid k-”

    “Hey!” You whipped around to see Carl beaming at you, “I found a way out.” 

    You bit back a grin, swinging open the last door of the old desk eyes widening as you peered inside, “I found something way cooler.” 

    You crossed your fingers in a silent prayer as you shut the top of the small electronic. You pressed play and squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation. Suddenly music began to flow through the speakers of the CD player. You jumped to your feet tacking Carl in excitement as raw guitar filled the room. He stumbled slightly back hitting the wall as you continuted to squeal into his ear breaking away and placing a messy kiss on his forehead. 

    You didn’t notice his cheeks bloom with deep red as you threw yourself onto your bunk giggling lightly. The music filled your surroundings in the most pleasant way, you felt like you were being buried in the thump of the drums and rumble of the bass. You slipped your eyes shut and sighed listening to the loud lyrics of a song you had never heard before. The grey of your vision had filled with color behind your lids as you hummed lightly to the melody. 

    Carl stared at you, eyes filled with a sense of admiration and yearning. You moved over slightly patting the spot beside you, never re-opening your eyes. Carl smiled softly slipping beside you and grinning. He let his eyelids fall, the music trapping him in a moment of euphoria as your knuckles brushed against his, the soft hum of your voice in his ear. 

Masterlist

[glumpiglet]

Beetlejuice meeting his S/O and shes a ghost?

Hi..Thank you for the request.. I had a lot of fun with this one.. It really got away from me lol I hope you like it <3 to those who requested I havent forgotten about you, it’s just easier for me to write on the weekend when I’m not working. K love you guys

Warning: bit of swearing.. basic beej innuendos... thats it.

If you had known that when you woke up that Wednesday, it would have been your last day alive, you probably would have done so not hungover. Stumbling out of bed, sheets still clutching at your legs, you swore at the morning sun shining once again for the high, wide windows in all the bedrooms. It was on the list to replace the sheer curtains, but fabric that long was hard to find and not cheap to buy.

When Great Aunt Gerdy left you her house, the only wish she had was to ‘preserve, protect, and breath life back into Windflew Manor.’

Sweet, naive Gertrude. Spun of sugar more than flesh, your great aunt had been the youngest of twelve and definitely your favourite family member. Growing up, you fondly remembered spending summers here, riding your bike through the halls on rainy days, playing ‘Pirates and Rogues’ in the backyard with Gerdy and her children.

When you got older you begged to still come to the Manor; Gertrude watched you grow and in her own mind, Auntie Gerdy had assumed you would follow the steps of the women in your family, hunker down with a fine man, pop out some kids every few years.

As you said, Gertrude was tragically naive. Never had the heart to ever tell her the truth. That marriage….Children? Had never even entered the equations of goals. You wanted a spontaneous, fun life full of breakable things. Adventure. 

But also it was known that if you didn’t take this house, it would have gone to an auction. It broke your heart the way her children acted, their mother was one of the greatest women you had ever met, a role model. It was what she wanted. You couldn’t do that to Aunt Gerdy. So with hesitant determination, you had set about restoring Windflew Manor.

Due to funds, you were forced to do most of the work, getting help for a few handier friends. But it had been coming along nicely, room by room the cobwebs and mold were disappearing. It was satisfying work.  

Resting your head against the shower wall, however, you didn’t think you could find the strength to tackle the gardens today. It was all your friend's fault, ‘one more drink (Y/N), we’ve worked so hard!’ 

Exiting the shower, wiping the fog from the mirror, you reflected on how tired the image looked as you moisturized, changing into comfy shorts and a tank top without bothering to properly dry yourself. It was a warm day and you liked the cool moisture mixed with the lotion slicking your skin.

Just as you began brushing your teeth, the doorbell rang multiple times. Who the hell was that this early in the morning? The sound came again, more insistent and you had to roll your eyes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold your horses..” Sprinting down the hallway, trying to steady on the banister, you felt the gravity shift as your feet slid across the hardwood.

You supposed everyone would lament your damned clumsiness, your carelessness. Imprinted on the skin, you held the reminders of how prone to accidents you had been. It had been a joke in the family for years. ‘(Y/N) is gonna kill herself one day!’ 

It was only a matter of time. 

Swing your hand wildly, nothing could be gripped as you felt yourself swinging forward, hurdling towards the twenty-six flight of stairs that as a child, never it was considered it would have spelled your end….  

**

Turns out, it had been nothing more than a neighbor, wanting to let you know the street sweepers would be out tomorrow. 

Life was funny that way. 

Watching in dull horror as the EMT’s took your body away, trying to process the following information.. It came to you so obviously even though it sounded crazy: You weren’t having some out of body experience… You hadn’t taken any hallucinogenic drugs lately.. You were dead. 

Thinking about what the afterlife would have been: Heaven, Hell, Purgatory…. Haunting Auntie’s empty house had not been on the top of the list. 

Time was meaningless now, you could look at the grandfather clock and see two p.m and look five minutes later and see eleven a.m. it was always cold. You cursed not wearing something warmer than your p.j’s that last morning, not that you thought it would have helped. 

Going outside had been a big no-no. Whatever fucked up colossal worm creature had been out there when you tried the one time to leave, was obviously meant to be keeping you here. So here you stayed.

It could have been only a day you spent dead and lonely in the house. Or a week. A month. Years. You were being a little dramatic, you knew it hadn’t been years. Friends and family came by, grieving openly, making your heartbreak; and removing all your items, which was even worse. Obviously to be sold off or stored in your old room. A time capsule.

On one of the many days that found you aimlessly wandering the halls, a book fell before you without pretense. Equal parts startled and puzzled, well as much as a ghost could be, you picked it up.  

‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased..’

Gripping the pages, intent to open, you were halted as your front door swung open. A dozen or so handsome, young men carrying multiple packed things burst into Aunt Gerdy’s foyer, laughing and chatting loudly.  

“Aw, dude this place is awesome!”

“Look at all the space!”

“Get that pong table over there!”

“What the fuck!?”

Stomping forward, you were about to raise your voice louder before you stopped yourself….Right, stupid... They couldn’t see you… The whole ‘being dead thing’.

Watching in impotent rage as they slammed their things on the hardwood floor, scuffing their sneakers on the expensive carpets you had saved every penny for…

This was not good. Not good at all.

**

You had been right.

It wasn’t hard to not like these kids. You weren’t really into the whole ‘boys would be boys’ excuse for male idiocy in their youths. 

You didn’t like the way they treated each other, the archaic ‘hazing’ they would often do leaving you feeling ill. You didn’t like the way they treated the girls they used and laughed as they were forced down the traditional ‘walk of shame’ making you furious.

You especially did not like the way they treated the Manor. It was terrible, gaudy streamers and tacky posters were pinned to the walls. Daily parties...Keggers…. Were held here, the place was a war zone. Litter and garbage cluttered every hall and you were beginning to tear your hair out in helplessness. 

They had turned your Aunt’s treasured home and your hardworking project into a frat house. It was just rude.

What were you gonna do? Time passed and you watched as the house grew further and further into decay when a lightbulb burst unexpectedly. 

Realizing your answer, you hoped the discarded handbook was still where you had dropped it. Returning to the living room, you sighed in relief at seeing the odd-looking text where you left it. Walking up to it, however, you noticed something there that wasn’t there before. 

A card, dusty, and sticking out of a random page. Bending down you began pulling at it, fingering the worn edges. You lifted it up into the light, trying to read it under all the dirt caked on. On the card, it just said one word three times, strangely compelled you said it out loud.

“Betelgeuse… Betelgeuse…. Betelgeuse?”

The burst of smoke made you hack instantly, it was like someone smoked weed in an embalming room, pungent and eye-watering. 

It was a man. Well, no. Not a human man in any case. Duh. You would say this was the weirdest thing to ever happen to you, but nothing was normal after you died apparently.

Observing as he waved his hands, stepping out of the cloud, you couldn’t help the widening of your eyes...He was.. Definitely interesting looking.. 

“Geez, did I come late to the party or what-… Woah.”  

He looked awful and smelt even worse, and why the hell was he here?

The… Character that stepped had gone silent. Awkward and stilted, you struggled to speak. It couldn’t help being noticed his... Hair was changing colour… Most certainly going from an almost neon green to baby pink…. What was he? 

“Don’t be afraid. You’re dead. I am also dead.” There was a moment before an incredulous giggle escaped your lips, you couldn’t help but realize it had been the first time you laughed since.. Well..

“Yeah, I figured that. From... You know… Seeing my dead body get taken away.” The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence deafening. 

Before he pounced. Flouncing over in a comical manner, he began to circle you, the humour disappearing from you at the look in his eye. 

“Huh, that line usually doesn’t work.. You’re surprisingly calm..” Turning your head until you couldn’t anymore, you swiveled striving for eye contact. He completed his journey around and stood in front of you, seeming to be searching for something. Before he held his grimey hand out…. The intense desire to hesitate held you still. 

It didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest.

“Hello! A pleasure to meetcha-” Leaning forward, you realized in just enough time what he was doing before he could press his lips to yours, jumping back. 

“Uh, excuse me!?” 

“Can’t blame a demon for trying, babes. Anyways uh… What can I do for you?” He fidgeted with his jacket, pulling at the cuffs and flapping the lapels, wafting his stench towards you making you gag. Covering your nose you murmured beyond belief.

“What do you mean?”

“Well usually I only get called when someone needs something from me….. Bio-exorcism. Homicide. Sexual pleasure. I do it all.” This guy couldn’t actually be serious… You shook your head, none of this was helping. You had gone to the book for an answer and had only gotten even more questions. 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about dude, I just found this card in this book. Anyways, what is happening right now? Who are you and why can you see me?”

Snickering, he continued to very eagerly invade your personal space and it was getting harder to find the space in the living room. The predator was cornering.

“You said my name, sexy. You called me.” 

What kind of name was Betelgeuse? Deciding immediately to shorten it for ease, you opened your mouth but apparently, he was on a roll, and continued. 

“And I already told you.. We’re dead. Deceased. Post Mortem.” Bumping into the wall, just hearing the words from someone else’s lips made you stop… Well, dead. Pun intended. Before they could be halted tears were gathering in your eyes… You weren’t even that emotional about it anymore, had already spent endless nights sobbing about what-ifs and regrets...Not for a while, still, it never got any easier to think about. 

Trying and failing miserably to hide the sniffles, you peered at BJ’s surprised expression. 

“Shit...shit..shit. I didn’t mean to do that…. Don’t cry,” Wiping at stubborn tears that fell against your wishes, you could see BJ shuffle his feet, looking extremely uncomfortable at your sudden breakdown. You tried to calm him, ironically.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just… Not been that great so far... Sometimes I think I might be in hell.” Staring at the ground, you had the overwhelming wish once again for it to finally swallow you whole and take you where you belonged.

“Is it… Your current occupants?”

“It certainly doesn’t help.” Looking up at BJ’s tilted head and rapt expression, the need to confide was making you continue.

“My Aunt left me this house and… I’ve hated seeing what they're doing to it.” BJ looked to be contemplating something before he spoke.

“I could help you.”

You looked at him “What do you mean?”

“I told you.. Again... Sweetheart, you’re smokin’ hot but your memory’s shit. I’m a Bio-exorcist. Getting breathers out is my forte. Well, most breathers can’t see me… But I can teach you! Breathers are waay more likely to see a ghost than a demon.” Riveted by what he was saying, you didn’t realize his pursuit until you felt his grip sound your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmm… Get you in a little school uniform.. Give you extra credit...” Blatantly ignoring him, focusing on the important part of what he said. 

“What you’re saying is we can get these kids out of here?”

“Of course babes. I take my job very seriously.” Shooting him an incredulous look, you managed to extract from him without much ease, he was really touchy for someone you just met.

“Yeah, I noticed…”

This was insanity. You weren’t actually considering letting this.. Demon?! To teach you how to scare the young men living in your house. It was dangerous and crazy.

Even more, there was no other option. Desperate times.

“Then you’re hired,”

“Oh, this is gonna be so good!” Once again having to duck away from his advance, you pressed a hand to the dirty front of his suit, holding him at bay.

“Stop that,”

“Hmm... Playing hard to get, I respect that.”

Maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

**

In hindsight, it worked out perfectly. Beej, as he had assured, was very good at his job. Just because that job entailed scaring the shit out of anyone and anything around him shouldn’t be held against him. 

Once again, incredulously if you had known in your life that your love of horror movies would have come in handy in your afterlife, you would have paid much more attention.  

Beej was impressed with your novice skill. The voice throwing came naturally to you, and your favourite trick was hiding in the corner of one of their bedrooms, positioning your arms and legs at odd angles and whispering to the sleeping boys, stifling giggles as they awoke, petrified and flew downstairs, waking everyone else in the house.

None of them could actually see you, but you had sworn the one redheaded one had locked eyes in the bathroom mirror, the two of you paused before the urge to scare rapidly left and the need to leave arose. Walking out the bathroom his eyes had definitely followed. 

He never told his friends about it, but BJ had said he watched him lay awake more than one night, clutching his sheets a little too tight. 

Possession was something you felt was unnecessary. Beej had often offered to uh.. Show you how it worked but the thought of BJ well.. Inside of you… It made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if it was from repulsion or excitement.

BJ was.. Unexpected in the best way. Devilishly Intelligent. Hilarious and.. You saw glimpses of his sweetness. He bashfully gave you dead flowers from the garden and was constantly sending you praises that would make you blush if you still had blood. How beautiful you were, how great of a scarer you were…. After getting over the whole stink thing, he was really cute and you might have been... Falling for him. Just the thought made you terrified. 

It all came to an end gradually. It was unexpected, you thought it would have been some big final fright, using all of your cunning ghostly powers. But no, one by one they just disappeared. Claiming to be moving back with family, dropping out, or simply leaving for ‘reasons’.

On the day you stood in the kitchen, now empty save for a few left behind appliances, the beaming smile sent to BJ couldn’t be contained.

“We did it.”

“You did it, babes. I was uh- Just along for the ride, I guess.”

Shifting closer to him, you saw with amusement Beej staring at your lips. The BJ of before would have taken your closeness as an immediate seduction, trying his luck. Now the fact he was trying to control himself, made your heart swell. 

The moment was broken by the sound of the front door opening, you held your breath to see who, or what entered.

A beautiful couple entered, followed by an obvious real estate agent, discussing the house. The couple seemed too good to be true, polite, and awed at the house. Seeing the little bundle of a baby tucked in the mother’s arm as they continued their inspection. You supposed in a way Aunt Gertrude had gotten her wish. And that could be enough.

You turned to Beej watching the scene with an odd countenance.   

“Thank you BJ, really. I’ve had a lot of fun.” You finally noticed. There was purple in his hair, something was making him sad.

“Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?” 

Oh. oh.

Struggling to answer him, you watched as he further sank in himself. “I read the book, BJ..The Netherworld… Shouldn’t I be…”

“Not yet! Once you get there… We won’t be able to see each other this much... Haven’t we been having fun?” 

“Of course but-”

“Don’t leave!” His voice was frantic, higher-pitched than you ever heard, you couldn’t find the words to calm him.

“Please! I’ll… I’ve been looking into something…” The moment took the oddest turn when Beej practically flew to his knees, reaching out to you to clasp your hands between his before clearly speaking two words you never imagined him saying.

“Marry me.”

The words shocked you. Scandalized, you said the one thing you could.

“Beetlejuice!” That wasn’t it, the look on his face broke you. It was pitiful, desperate.

“No nonono say something else babes, let me explain!” You reached out, stroking his stubble as his giant, golden eyes glittered at you with so many emotions swirling.

“I’m not gonna send you away Beej, stop please.” Taking deep breaths between you, the urge to sink to the floor with him ran over you. Somewhere in your mind you realized how stupid this was, two ghosts having a panic attack in the kitchen, but weirder things have happened.

“If I… Marry a breather. I get brought to life. So I’ve been thinking..” Beej was asking to marry you.. Could ghosts and demons even get married? Would you have a wedding? Invite other ghosts to the ceremony?

“I don’t know BJ… We don’t even know if it will work,” You hadn’t said ‘no’ yet. At the moment, you couldn’t find the desire to do so. You liked Beej, it was the little things in death you realized that mattered. 

“What have we got to lose?.. I thought..”

Looking at him, on the floor with you. Overwhelmed with affection, you leaned forward, noting with glee Beej’s astonishment. Kissing the ghost with the most was... Everything and nothing what you expected. His tasted like cigarettes and dirt, still you leaned into him more.

The one thing that could make death totally rad. Being with him. He was absolutely right. Pulling away, looking at his blissed out face, eyes staying closed, you gave him your answer. 

“Yes. Okay. I’ll marry you.”

[fatbottombucky]

Thank You’s Go A Long Way *Steve Rogers x Reader*

@moonlight-mindfulness​ Requested: Steve working with a reader with intrusive thoughts (the depression/PTSD kind) and just giving her all the warmth and attention she needs whenever she feels bad, but also Reader being badass and just super sassy to him whenever she is in good spirits. I also just always like self care or someone helping the other w self care in fanfic. In case you want a steamy scene you could write her "Thank you" to him that evening 👀😏

Pairing: Steve Rogers x [F]Reader

Ratings: [+18] MATURE CONTENT

Warnings: Rough days and thoughts. Depression can be a bitch, tad angsty due to that. MAJOR F L U F F! Male Oral Receiving, cause lol

Notes: This... is way longer than I planned. Also, I haven’t written for Steve in a hot second. So, if this terrible... I apologise. - Rosalie 

Requests are still open; men and female requests welcomed. I do want some female marvel character requests, got a lot of dudes, so c’mon...

24 HOURS EARLIER

“Oh, this was a bad idea,” Steve muttered into your ear over the loud gun shots being fired in your direction. 

You don’t answer, so he looks towards you to see your cheeky smile. It almost makes him think this is perfectly fine, almost. You peek around the table you’re both behind, you almost get your head blown off and you have the audacity to laugh. 

This is exciting to you, exhilarating even and that’s always confused Steve, but he feeds off of your energy. You have this thrill seeking attitude towards missions. It’s both a gift and a cruse for him, because his reckless nature combined with your thrill seeking: it’s a deadly combo. 

But you are both always trying to outdo one another, it’s a sick challenge. 

“So, what’s the plan?” 

He looks down at you with raised eyebrows, wide eyes and a gobsmacked face, he’s meant to have a plan? For the shit you caused? The shit-eating grin you grace him with makes his heart flutter, but he’s not letting you off that easily. 

“You’re Captain America,” you state obviously, “so man with a plan, let’s get outta here.” 

He shakes his head dramatically, licking his lips as he looks over the table. There’s a drastic difference in bodies in this room, this whole operation was meant to be shutting down this organisation- collecting information too. Only it was shit from the get-go, for some reason instead of calling for back-up you both went further down in the bunker. 

Now you’re both stuck. 

“Still want to get that intel?” He asks you and you frown, tilting your head slightly, “I can hold them off, there’s a door just there,” he nods to behind you, “there’s a computer in there. You should be able to hack into them and get some kind of intel we can use.” 

You begin to shake your head, “no way. There’s like thirteen of them, Steven. You’re gonna get seriously hurt.” 

“Not if you’re quick, I’ve calculated the probability and it’s doable,” you roll your eyes, “better me than you, okay? We either go back empty handed or we get some type of information on these assholes.” 

You only nod once at him, turning towards the door and deeply breathing. You look over your shoulder and cheekily smile at him, adding a wink for extra flare. 

4 HOURS EARLIER 

“Will you quit squirming?” You scold the man-child before you, he huffs loudly and sulks as you clean his shoulder. 

He winces when you press the cloth to the wound, “It stings.” 

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you get shot!” You exclaim and shake your head when he pouts. 

The Quinjet’s sink is covered in Steve’s blood and bloody gauzes, Steve watches as you use the small medkit to patch up his wound. Your eyebrows are knitted together, tongue poking out in concentration. 

The gunshot no longer hurts or stings, his body already healing it for him. It looked worse than it felt, he knew that, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Honestly, it was a lucky shot and a fluke he even got hit. 

“Done.” You begin to close the sewing kit and smile at him, ruffling his golden hair. 

“Thank you,” he grabs your wrist and kisses it tenderly, it causes you to scrunch your nose and make a gagging noise at his tenderness. “You’re so fucking mean,” he playfully pinches your side, you flip him off before heading out of the small bathroom and back to the cockpit. 

PRESENT TIME

Your mind raced over yesterday’s events. How you managed to remain calm at the fact Steve got shot was a surprise, especially since your hands are shaking now. The same hands that masterfully sewed the bullet wound shut. Stopped the bleeding and cleaned him up. 

This is your normal. Why the hell are you crying now? Getting shot on a mission is basically a normal date night for you both... 

A soft knock is sounded through your apartment, you make no move to get out of bed, even when whoever it is knocks a couple more times. If they’re someone important or it’s serious they’d have a key... it seems they do. 

The front door creeks open, keys are thrown into the glass bowl with all your change and keychains. Shoes are toed off, a jacket is being hung up on the hooks and then soft padding of footsteps are echoing towards your bedroom. 

Door is pushed open, a tall figure is illuminated from the hallway lights. A sigh escapes you, it’s only Steve, your boyfriend, so it’s all okay.  He’s fine, he doesn’t look angry even. 

“You look snug,” He comments softly as he crawls onto your bed, laying over your covers and manoeuvring himself to laying beside you and facing you. 

You’re silent in response, staring at your hands that are pulling threads at your blanket. Steve doesn’t speak again, choosing to remain quiet but he lifts a hand to tentatively play with your hair- you look at him and he gives a questioning glance, you shrug softly and he continues. 

His fingers rub your scalp softly in circular motions, smiling when you scoot a little closer towards him. You don’t often let people touch your hair/head(head if you have a shaved head like me), but when you do it’s comforting and relaxing; could almost make you fall asleep. 

“How is your shoulder?” your voice is barley above a whisper. 

“Perfectly healed,” you nod once, “hey,” somehow his voice is even softer than before, “wanna do face-masks and eat chocolate?” 

You raised an eyebrow, you felt really lethargic but nod. Steve leans over and kisses you softly before getting off of the bed, he switches on the fairy lights twirled around your headboard. You watch as he walks towards the bathroom and rummaging around in your cabinets. 

It’s a full two minutes before he returns and puts the masks in his back pocket, he extends a hand out to you causing you to shake your head slightly. You didn’t want to leave the bed, you wanted to stay in bed. 

“We have to leave the bed, Y/N,” you sigh and sit up, he chuckles when you make grabby hands for him- no way are you going to walk. He lifts you up effortlessly in his arms, “the bed is where monsters lie and you can’t listen to those.” 

He sits you on the sofa and then settles beside you, silent as he crosses his legs and opens the packet of face-mask. A bag of snacks are on the coffee table. Between sitting up and looking through the contents of food the Netflix theme startles you, you faintly smile as he searches for Brooklyn Nine Nine. 

He tells you that he’s going to put your face-mask on for you, your heart swells as he gently pats the cold paste around your face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. 

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but you don’t have it in you. 

“Even with a cucumber mask on making me look like Shrek?” 

He nods sweetly, “You’re the Fiona to my Shrek,” as you put his on for him. “Sam is Donkey,” he mutters faintly and you giggle. 

“Who is Buck?”

“Puss in Boots,” you frown and huff a laugh, “he’s always been the cool cat and the one ladies fawn after.” 

You smile softly, “but Shrek gets the princess. Not always about looks, Steven.” He nods with a shy grin, a blush forming on his cheeks at your implication. 

Sitting in silence and watching Brooklyn Nine Nine with snacks, you couldn’t ask for a better distraction. Steve keeps a hand on your thigh, softly drawing patterns on your skin. Everything about this is perfect. 

After twenty minutes Steve helps wash your mask off in the kitchen sink, laughing when you wipe your wet face on his shirt. 

“I didn’t bring spare clothes with me,” he whines. 

“I have shirts I stole from you in my room,” he gasps in mock shock at you, following you back to the bedroom where you show him your stash of his clothing. 

It’s almost comical at how many shirts and joggers you have of his. Not that he minds, of course. You wearing his clothes is a favourite of his, he loves seeing you randomly in his stuff.  *** After almost a whole season worth of Brooklyn Nine Nine you’re both back in your bed, facing one another and talking aimlessly into the darkness. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hey,” he wraps an arm over your body and pulls you towards him, “I love you. I’m not going to let you suffer in silence, especially not alone. So if you need to lay in bed in silence all day, then we’ll do it together. But I know how the mind works, twists thing and being in bed can be damaging too. Those monsters lie to you, so I couldn’t let it keep talking.” 

You lean forward and press your lips to his gently, a surprise grunt rises from the back of his throat. Your hand settles on his jaw, stroking lightly as you deepen the kiss. 

After a few minutes of making-out you push on Steve’s shoulder forcing him to settle on his back, you slyly smile as you lay over him and push the covers down as you travel down his body too. 

“Y/N,” his breathless voice has you smirking, “you don’t have to.” 

Judging by his breathy voice and obvious reaction to the potential possibility has you curving an eyebrow, his shoulder shrug in response and you chuckle. 

“It’s a thank you,” you pull his briefs down, “you’ve been so good to me today, treated me so nicely.” 

Before he can respond you lick a broad strip up his length, a guttural groan leaves his lips loudly. You smile proudly before getting back to work, lapping at the tip teasingly before taking him into your throat. You can’t fit all of him in your mouth, a slight gagging sound emits from you when he lifts his hips up to meet your mouth. 

You pull back up, gasping slightly and working him with your hand. Licking at his length as you sped up your hand movements, smiling when he moans your name loudly, hand finding the back of your head; a silent plea for your mouth to replace your hand. 

Accepting that you take him down again, bobbing your head and hallowing your cheeks. “Fuck,” he grunts rather loudly, “stop!” He whines and you slowly pull off him, your tongue staying on the tip as you watch him clam down. “Can we-Do you wanna?” 

You climb up his body, hand still wrapped around his cock, “You don’t think my thank you was enough?” The question is paired with a coy smile. 

“More than enough, but I wanna express my gratitude for looking after me yesterday.” 

Please leave a nice comment/ like, maybe reblog? Any communication would be awesome :) I had my BETA help with the oral scene because... never sucked a dick lmao bye *peace sign* Let me know what you think! - Rosalie

[blue-eyed-korra]

Is Dylan really Kieran? A Theory Dissection:

So I’ve taken the time to process everything that’s happened in the amazing season finale of Purple Hyacinth because I didn’t want to rush into posting about it and I really wanted to let my thoughts about it simmer for a bit. I also decided to reread the entire season over the course of a couple days to get the best idea of how it worked as a whole. Once again if you haven’t read this yet please do yourself a favour and check it out it’s really phenomenal.

I’ll probably make a few posts about PH over the next couple weeks as we wait for season 2. However I won’t post an analysis of the finale mainly because Lanxyuu already did an amazing job of that already. Check it out if you’ve got the time, it’s 10000 words of pure analytical gold. Writing about any of that would be redundant. That being said the first thing I’m gonna talk about is the whole ‘Is Kieran actually Dylan’ theory that’s the new hot thing in the fandom, mainly because I’ve received a lot of requests to discuss it and also because I feel like I can add my own points to the debate.

So let’s just get it out of the way: do I think Kieran is Dylan? As of right now the answer is no. I just don’t think we have enough evidence to prove it, and what’s there is more circumstantial. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy theorizing about it. I’ve found that discussing and sharing theories and ideas is one of my favourite ways to interact with a fandom. So I’m gonna put all of the evidence that I’ve observed in the entire first season both in favour of and against this theory and show why I think we can’t say that Kieran is Dylan. I’m not telling you to not believe it. Believe what you want! Like I said it’s fun to do this. I’ve just been specifically asked my opinion and I want to be able to justify it through what I’ve seen in the comic itself. 

For more of my posts about Purple Hyacinth check out my ‘ph posts’ tag!

So with all of that out of the way, let’s get started!

Evidence in favour of Kieran being Dylan:

One of the things I think most of us can agree on is that Dylan probably isn’t really dead. In general if I’m not shown a body, I don’t believe they’re dead. I’ve seen far too many movies and TV shows and have read far too many novels to be fooled by that. As of right now, in my head, Dylan is alive, or at least wasn’t killed in the bombing. So obviously if he isn’t dead then that frees him up to show up in the plot at some point or maybe he was there all along...?

This kind of ties into my next point: what happened to him then? His hat was found at the scene, so he must have lost it at some point before the explosion. This is all speculative, but he could have been snatched up by Tim and the driver in Lauren’s parents car. We heard Tim mention that children were in the car so it’s somewhat plausible that Dylan could have been kidnapped. Maybe he saw something suspicious and snooped around a bit which lead to him being snatched up or something. From there he’s tortured and broken and made into an assassin for the PS. Only he isn’t broken. He steels his resolve and does as he’s told because he’s now set on biding his time and getting revenge on those who robbed him of his life and humanity. It makes for a pretty compelling character arc.

The tragedy of his character arc could also be supplemented by the fact that when he was young, he wanted to be a doctor and save lives, but they made him into an assassin who takes lives. Brutally. Violently. Painfully. All of this would emphasize why he views himself as such a monster. The person he is now goes against everything the person he once was values. It’s this dichotomy that reinforces his ‘monster’ persona and allows him to justify this view of himself.

Another point is that this could explain why Kieran hesitated when he could have killed Lauren way back in episode 3. Of course he would hesitate to kill someone who was his close friend. Most of his murders were of people he either didn’t know or didn’t know very well. If he’d had a close friendship with her in childhood, it would obviously make him stop for a moment when he realizes who she is, just like he does in that episode. We even see Lauren say that if she knew why he hesitated then ‘everything would be different’. Obviously if she found out that he was her-long-lost-thought-to-be-dead friend, the person who symbolized her guilt for not stopping the bombing, the plot would be waaaaaay different. Just like the line about being the most blind of all in the prologue, the implications of this line are going to play a major role in the story, and this theory could explain that.

Then there’s those god damned purple hyacinths. Obviously Dylan’s knowledge of these flowers, both in their cultivation and meaning, are things that Kieran must know too. We pretty much know that they’re his signature for both their royal symbolism and their use in mourning, and that Kieran must have a stash of them growing somewhere. There’s also the fact that Lauren, who we know is very intelligent and well educated even at 12, doesn’t know the meaning of purple hyacinths other than their use as a symbol by the royal family. This tells me that their symbolism outshines their meaning in the traditional sense within the pop culture. Honestly, I didn’t even know the meanings of most flowers except for roses until I started reading this Webtoon. I’m not saying that people don’t know the meaning at all, I’m just saying it may not be common knowledge.

The final point I wanna talk about in favour of this theory is their appearances, since that will bleed nicely into the points against it for obvious reasons. So many people, myself included, have noticed that if you switch Dylan’s hair and eye colouring for Kieran’s, he’d basically look like little Kieran, and yes, I see it too. You could say that he could be dying his hair, it’s not crazy to believe hair dye exists in this world. How else does Belladonna have pink hair if they didn’t have access to dye? Unless it’s just stains from the blood of her victims… Actually that could be a theory lol but that’s not the point. Point is Kieran could theoretically have his hair dyed black, but it’s a bit of a stretch, as I explain in...

Evidence against Kieran being Dylan:

While he maaaaay be able to change his hair colour from light blond to black, there’s no way for him to change his eye colour from grey to blue. If rectangular glasses don’t even exist in this world yet (thank you Soph for this justification for why you gave him Harry Potter glasses), there’s no way that they’d have access to contact lenses yet. The other argument is that his eye colour changed with age but that feels a bit too... convenient for my taste. Odds are our boy Kieran is sporting the look he was born with.  Additionally, with everything going on in his life and his priorities, when would he have the time to constntly maintain this look, and why would he feel the need to disguise himself in the first place? He already operates in the shadows of the night and none of the authorities, other than Lauren, were able to get close enough to describe his appearance. There would simply be no need for all of that extra disguising.

Speaking of his appearance, we’ve seen one of his victims recognize him before he murders them. He says something interesting: ‘You were that boy’. Now this whole thing is one of my favourite mysteries of the series, so you best believe I am jumping on this shit the second we get more info about it. But for now, I want to use it to show that this aristocrat, who were loyal to the crown and presumably hadn’t seen him in years, took one look at Kieran’s face and immediately recognized him from when he was a child. If this man knew he had these same features as a boy, then it’s safe to assume that he’s always looked like this. This also links him to the aristocracy, since there’s no reason why this man of high status in opposition the PS would know anything about him unless he knew him before he entered the PS. Dylan, on the other hand, was the son of a gardener. He was friends with Lauren sure, but he clearly was of a lower station in society than someone like Lauren or the other aristocratic families. It’s doubtful that he’d leave such an impression on this high society man.

On top of all of that, if he were really Dylan and this man really did see through his change in appearance, why wouldn’t Lauren see through it too? She was one of his best friends and thinks about him constantly. If this man was able to recognize him in a single moment but she still doesn’t recognize him after months, then odds are he just isn’t Dylan.

There’s also the fact that Kieran doesn’t lie when he tells Lauren his name. It’s the same name that people like Belladonna know him by and it’s the name he uses when he becomes the archivist in Lauren’s precinct. Like he said before: there’s no need for him to hide his identity. He’s protected by his reputation and the PS itself. I can see an argument where he could have ‘renounced’ his old name because the person he once was is dead and only the monster remains, which is again a cool theory , or you could say it’s to keep people from knowing that he’s actually alive. But there would be no real need for him to change his name. He could have two names just like the hyacinths have two meanings. I will say that this theory about ‘Kieran White’ not being his true name could also work in favour for him not being Dylan too as, if he was an aristocrat, the PS could have changed his name to hide him from his family as well, but that’s neither here nor there, just something to consider. For now we know that he really is Kieran White and there’s no evidence to disprove that (yet).

Finally, many of the points listed in favour of the theory; the motive, the character arc, the knowledge of flowers, it’s all circumstantial. For all we know, Kieran could be Dylan Rosenthal, or he could be some boy connected to the aristocracy or even the royal family. He could be Dylan Rosenthal, or he could be his own character with his own arc yet to be fully revealed who’s connected to Lauren somehow. The meaning of purple hyacinths could come from Dylan’s prior knowledge, or they could common knowledge and Kieran just bought ‘Gardening for Dummies’ or some shit to make sure he didn’t kill them. Any number of different things could really be at play that we simply don’t know yet. But we do know that a man recognized him at a glance while Lauren, Dylan’s best friend, didn’t recognize him whatsoever. We do know that there’s no proof that hair and especially eye colour can be changed in this world. We do know that we still have quite a ways to go in this story and that the answers aren’t what we expect.

Eph and Soph have done an amazing job of revealing the story to us in disjointed pieces so that when we finally get that one piece that fits, may of them fall into place too. How many of us realized it was her parents’ car in the picture before it was revealed in episode 49? Or thought that Harvey was a spy all along? I don’t think we know nearly enough about him to prove he’s Dylan, but what we do have at this moment is enough to disprove it. What we have now is primarily speculation versus hard physical evidence. We need to accept that we don’t have all the pieces to the puzzle yet and that we’ll only receive new ones little by little.

So, until we learn more about Kieran’s past or until we see ‘changing-eye-colour’ join ‘lie-detecting’ as a new supernatural ability, I’m afraid that I can’t fully get behind this theory. Again, this doesn’t mean I’m telling you not to believe it. Thinking about all the implications of Kieran being Dylan is a lot of fun, just like thinking about Kieran’s backstory and motives is fun. And I could be wrong about all of this, who knows? Writing this just got me really excited to see where his arc will lead us and even more excited for season 2!

Thanks again to everyone who wanted me to discuss this! I had a lot of fun writing it and would love to hear feedback from you guys about any thing you may want to contribute that I may not have mentioned. This post was born of a sleepless night into morning and a need to get all my thoughts out of my brain so it could finally turn off and let me sleep. I already have an idea about what I’m gonna write next so stay tuned and thanks again for all the support!!

[myonmukyuu]

hot milk tea, thoughts and feelings

I’ve only mentioned it briefly, but I’ve said that I’ll be taking a break from my SetsuAyu series - mainly because of my uni workload though.

But for now, I have a lot of thoughts about the entire thing as a project as well as myself as an artist. So I figured that I’d write a reflection of sorts (warning: it gets kind of personal).

Can you believe it’s been 3-4 months since the series started? I can’t, and I’ve been the one drawing all of these!! If you’ve been reading my work, I’ll say it over and over but I really appreciate it!!! Like I’m dead serious!!! Completely!! Utterly!! Without a doubt!!! I love all of you!!!

When I posted that first comic, I didn’t think it’d get the positive reception that it did get. Like, I’ve been producing basically entirely Muse content for years and suddenly decided to tap into Nijigaku? You could argue that it didn’t get that much attention, but either way, the attention it did get surprised me. I was so happy that people were engaged (and it still makes me stupidly happy, like on a level where I’m almost embarrassed to admit HAHA)

Recently I’ve just uploaded the bonus for the 3rd update which wraps up that part, and it really just clicked - that I really have invested soooo much time into this series. 36 pages now! And we’re only 3/10 main updates in!! I have so much passion for this - like a fire that can’t be put out. Every single update has something that I want to communicate/show so I always feel fired up. Heck, if you’ve spoken to me during the process you’d catch me always saying “I’m excited for the next one!!!” while working on it LMAO. It’s been my longest string of non-stop work. Usually I feel burned out more quickly but I was always so excited that I couldn’t stop! You’d find that I’m usually in a  state of conflict bc I alwaaaays want to talk about it but at the same time I don’t want to spoil anything. (THE NEXT UPDATE JUICY)

I think it’s a clear reminder of why I draw actually. The answer between each artist always differs, but I think it’s something important to be aware of. And well, for me? I’ve realised I’m a passion-monster. Passion keeps my blood pumping 100%. As a result... you could say I might be a more selfish kind of artist. Maybe it’s burn-out from running all those ask-blogs/RP when I was like 13-16, but I’ve realised that I’m having the most fun drawing what I genuinely love. It’s kind of why you’d rarely see me do requests and why I no longer do commissions. That isn’t to say that I hate drawing for other people. It can be fulfilling! But it’s more like - I barely have the time to draw for myself, so drawing for others is kind of a lower priority in general. It’s also why I’ve decided against studying graphic design when I graduated highschool. It’s just not happening as a career.

When I ask myself, “what kind of artist do I want to be?” I always think “Somebody who marches to her own beat and works hard to make content that she loves.” It’s also why I never delete anything - even my oldest art that makes me cringe. Because the me from 5 years ago put her love into that too. It’s really cheesy sounding but that’s how I see it LMFAO. I couldn’t do that to her. And also, just because I don’t like something anymore, it doesn’t mean that no one else does. So I’ll continue to never delete my old work. As a bonus, we get to see how far I’ve come too~.

I feel a little vulnerable admitting something like this and I’m pretty sure I’ve only told like 4 humans, but I think my #1 goal as an artist is that I want people to be able to look at my work (that I actually put my heart into) and think “this person loves this” or “this person works hard”. If you can do that, and sincerely feel the feelings I put into my comic, then I’ve already reached my goal. Can people tell how much I love these characters? The series? The concept? Can people tell how much work I’ve been putting into these updates? Can people tell when I’m having fun? It’s something I think about a lot. The idea of that people might think so makes me tear up HAHA - I get really sappy thinking about these kinds of things. And well, if people can’t tell then I’m not working hard enough!

That isn’t to say that I’m always putting my life-blood into everything I make. I’m mainly referring to the stuff where I do. I think it’s pretty clear when I’m pumping a lot of love into something. In general though, there’s always an intention for me to like communicate some idea or feeling and doing something like that requires maybe a bit of love~.

I feel like that as a character, Setsuna really resonates with me a lot. In personality? Not at all LMFAOOOO (she’s such a nice girl!!). More because of her ideals and principles. After typing like everything that I did up until this point, I bet you can guess why. I’ll keep it short and simple though, since this post is getting stupidly long.

Basically, I really resonate with her drive and passion as both an artist, and just in general actually? I’m a believer in that if you’re passionate about something, you can spread that passion. That’s the mentality I have with my art. If my love shows, then maybe other people will understand why I’ve come to love something. And maybe they’ll come to love it too. If I’m having fun, maybe they will have fun too! Very cheesy, I know, but that’s just how I roll!!!

Like rare pair? New fandom? Still applies. It might take awhile, but eventually either the people who love that thing will find me, or I’ll help people come to love something new (or at least see where it’s coming from lolol)! 

And as Setsu says:

You tell ‘em girl !!! That devotion is my driving force!!

Of course I know this is idealistic, but I think that’s fine. It’s no bother to me if someone feels indifferent/ negative towards my work because that’s just natural.

I think it’s a form of communication and that’s what drives my art. I’ve been intending on writing a guide/ or talking about my art process for comics for some time now and I think that’d be the first thing I’d mention? I’m always trying to communicate some sort of feeling/tone/idea and that comes from a place of love y’know.

I feel like I’m saying “love” and “passion” a lot - you can really tell I’m vibing with Setsuna huh LMAO. There are other reasons I vibe with her too, but I won’t touch on that.

Coming back to my SetsuAyu series. You can tell why I’m so happy about it right? The story, the pairing dynamic, I feel like that people are understanding what I’m trying to communicate - that people are receiving my feelings of love for it and that makes me smile so widely. I really put a lot into it!!

This series is the first large project I’ve ever taken you see and I’m so so happy that I’ve been able to get this far! It really means a lot to me. But it wasn’t actually the first comic series I’ve tried to do. I actually had a Muse long-running comic planned years ago - a Dancing Stars on Me! AU but it never came to life. I think it was my lack of confidence that held me back. It might be weird of me to pat myself on the back, but I’m proud that I managed to get going this time!! I’ve actually written the SetsuAyu series in a way that for the first half, I could drop the series if I really wanted to at any point (each part is pretty independent, and that description I always copy-and-paste is all the explanation you really need), but now I know for sure that I don’t want to drop it! I wanna keep going!! Even if it gets tough. Although it might be a little early for me to make such bold declarations, I’m only 3/10 through LOOOL. But that’s just the way I feel right now!

I know it’s irrational and it’s something I’d rather not admit, but an anxiety that’s always looming over me is the idea that I’m not working hard enough - or that people think I’m not? Each comic update...takes like a month right? And a month is a long time. There’s this part of me that is convinced that people think I’m lazy for working so slowly. And I know it’s not true!! It doesn’t make sense for it to be!!! But like I said it’s irrational.

I’m really proud of this comic y’know. It’s a really big commitment and I’m proud of myself for being able to commit. I work full time 9-5, and I also am in my final year at university. I’m... kind of busy lol. So the huge factor in that month-long update turnaround is just that I don’t have the time to always be drawing. But I try to draw as much as I can! If you have me on discord you might notice me work on it for like 2-5 hours, almost daily before I go to bed (1am). Of course I’m not only drawing, but after I get everything plotted out sometimes that’s all I do. This comic is super time-consuming LMAO - and I try my best to work on it a little at a time.

So yeah, the entire month of comic-production is me drawing every almost every night.

Yeah it, - it’s kind of exhausting. Even though I’m itching to work on my next update, I’ve decided to take a break for uni crunch which is why I say the next one might be two months. It’s really odd though. The other night I was in bed feeling restless. It was so weird not drawing till 1am that I felt like I needed to be doing something. This comic series might have weird effects on my habits...

It makes me anxious thinking that it’d be so long till next update. But I’ll do my best to push that aside ! Hopefully I can get uni done and dusted ASAP! I want them to date dammit...

I've decided that I want to see this series through to the end. It’ll probably be May next year when that happens though LMAO! Please bear with my slow turnaround time. It’s only been 3 updates, but I can already see that I’m improving with each one. With each update I feel like I really learn from the previous and I always feel this sense of excitement with trying out new techniques and trying to create different feelings. I really want to see how the last updates will look compared to the first!  Technically we’re 3/10 (10 is an epilogue), but after 6 I actually stop doing bonuses? So teeechnically I’m like 40% of the way through~.

It might be a little over-ambitious, but I kind of want to print it out and make a hard-copy when I’m done. I’m not sure about what the demand would be if I were to sell it, but I definitely want to print it for myself first and foremost (after touching up the earlier updates of course LOL). It’d be like a physical representation of my achievement. I hope I can make it there.

Anyways, I’ve rambled for far too long. I’m not sure why I suddenly felt like talking about uh, everything but yeaaaah. If you’ve read this far, kudos to you! You now have a window into my soul that I’m still not sure if I’m comfortable with revealing (but I’m comfortable enough because I’m posting this so...)! 

After reading all of this, can you tell why I always get so so happy after each update? It’s the fruition of what’s usually 2-3 weeks of non-stop hard work! Seeing people connect with it always sends me to another realm of bliss and I always feel soft like putty LOL.

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Ghost (sort of lol)

Bakudeku requested by @nona-inc Angst w/happy ending, AU modern times. Longer than I’d planned to write but stories go where they wanna lol.

Got the idea here

A Second Chance

In his adulthood, Izuku Midoriya did quite well for himself career-wise. He had a nice home and lived comfortably even though it was alone. Relationships had never really crossed his mind, which he chalked up to the turmoil of his childhood. It wasn’t a terribly horrible one but coming from divorced parents is never easy on young child minds. Why get close to anyone if they’ll probably leave eventually? That was a lesson bolstered by the end of primary school when his best friend ditched him for the popular kids.

It was Halloween night, and Izuku’s simply followed his normal routine after work consisting of dinner while watching a bit of television. Trick or treaters were a rarity in his neighborhood, so there was no sense in celebrating the holiday. As he waits for the news, he lets the current show drone on in the background while he scrolled mindlessly through his social media. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to what acquaintances posted and mostly looked for interesting or funny posts instead.

“Deku...”

Izuku’s brow furrows slightly at that ancient nickname. He looks at the television characters on the screen, had one of them said it? But instead of the tv show, he finds a fuzzy, staticky screen. He grabs his remote assuming something had gone wrong with the channel or service when...

“Deku, I’m sorry...”

“What the?” Izuku starts clicking the buttons and getting no response. The screen stays stuck, yet that voice... it was a familiar voice from long ago...

“...I’ve watched you from afar for all these years, because I could never admit how much I loved you and now it’s too late. I’m so sorry Deku. You’ll always be my only true love.”

Silence. Dead silence for a flash of a second when the television loudly blares back to life and startles Izuku out of his seat into a standing position. “What the fuck is going on?!”

The show had ended, and the news is now on in its regular-timed slot.

‘Breaking news, a major four car accident on the I10 highway has left 3 people dead and one in a critical condition. The victim identified as 37-year old K. Bakugou had been transported to the hospital for treatment. Police have closed off the highway in both directions, so anyone traveling in that area should use alternative routes...’

As he watches the footage of the accident story, Izuku’s hand unconscious covers his mouth and tears gather in his eyes. “Oh my gosh....” That was the voice he’d just heard! Of course, Katsuki was the only one who ever called him Deku.

He quickly calls one of the nurses at his hospital and they confirm that the man had in fact been transported there 15 minutes ago.

“Oh! Dr. Midoriya! We were just about to call you! Yes, patient Bakugou was brought in unconscious, lacerations to his arms and chest, broken leg, possible punctured lung, internal bleeding, concussion, and brain swelling which is why I was just about to call you in.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The entire way there, Izuku struggles to rationalize the message. If Katsuki was unconscious, how could that have been his voice? Then again that’s if you believed his television had somehow sent the message in the first place! Oh, this was entirely crazy! Izuku didn’t even know why his logical mind was allowing him to believe it had happened if not for the coincidence of the news coverage.

But as a neurosurgeon, he had to put all those questions aside and focus on the task at hand. The description the nurse had given him already indicated major problems, but it wasn’t until his own physical examination that determined the true extent of the damage. Primary surgical nurse Uraraka already had set up the operating room by the time Izuku arrived.

“The patient was revived once by EMTs in the ambulance and a second time in the ER after his heart stopped. Right now, the patient is intubated and prepped for emergency surgery.”

“Thank you, nurse Uraraka.”

Along with a fellow doctor, Izuku switched into a hyper focused mode. He works to repair the damage to the patient’s brain while the other doctor simultaneously focuses on internal chest injuries. Time was of the essence to stem the blood loss and mitigate further damage if they had any hope of saving the man, because even if he made it through the surgery, only a miracle would bring him back at this point.

It was now a waiting game. They keep Katsuki in a medically induced coma for the first three weeks as his body worked hard to repair itself. Once he was brought out of the induced coma, he still didn’t wake up, was breathing with the assistance of a machine, but at least the man’s heart was functioning normally. Surprisingly, Katsuki’s parents remembered Izuku and were grateful their son was in familiar hands. They’d initially flew in after the accident, but the cost to stay for such a long length of time would be too steep. So, after they returned home, he kept them up to date.

Each day that passed by, Izuku would check in on Katsuki’s progress like a normal doctor would, but at night he’d go home and ponder the ghostly message that had come through the television. He’d told no one about it because who would believe something so crazy? It just didn’t sound like the man, or rather child he remembered. Never once was there any indication Katsuki had romantic feelings for him, especially considering it was him not Izuku that ended their friendship. They saw each other in passing though middle, then high school and still nothing. So why is he now being told this?

Some say that when you die, any regrets you have must be released or your soul cannot ascend to the next plane. Izuku wasn’t religious or spiritual and before that Halloween trick he would have said he didn’t believe in anything beyond what he couldn’t see, touch, feel, and analyze. Ugh! Maybe that’s why this was all driving him so crazy. He wanted answers but the one person who could give it to him was stuck in a coma.

“Everything okay doctor?” One of the LPN’s asks Izuku. “I just need to check on the patients vitals.”

“Do what you need to nurse, I’m just visiting before I go home for the night.”

“Yes, doctor.” The woman makes her chart notations and leaves them alone again.

Because of Izuku’s standing at the hospital, he’d gotten Katsuki a private room. The man was taken off the breathing machine a week earlier and this way he could monitor the man without being pestered. There were times he would spend a few hours just watching the man sleep, trying to study what had become of his childhood friend. Through research, Izuku learned Katsuki had moved here around the same time that he’d started his internship at the hospital. Before that the man lived in the same town as the medical school he attended. It appeared Katsuki really was keeping track of Izuku, never married, and just worked in the marketing field.

Izuku squeezes the man’s hand with his eyes closed in a silent conversation. The only sounds being the beeps and noises of the machines to break the stillness. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t know what to think, what to feel, just that this man was dredging up long buried emotions that part of him was afraid to open up. Hadn’t he built up a good life, albeit a lonely one, it was still by his own wit and merits whereas Katsuki always had it so easy. The man was a smart, handsome jock, popular, and had been on track to do great things. While he was the geeky kid with freckles and wild green hair who the popular kids teased.

They were so close as little kids, all through preschool and the first years of primary. Katsuki was the extroverted one pulling him along on make believe adventures to emulate a shared love of a comic book character. In fact, it was with Katsuki’s help that he’d weathered his parent’s divorce. He idolized the stronger boy and wished he was Katsuki, not a weak like little nerd... perhaps having his child’s heart broken, really was the reason he swore off ever caring about anyone else again.

Did he just?! Izuku’s eyes pop open when his hand squeeze is returned by a weak one. Katsuki’s eyes are still closed and nothing else seemed unchanged. Perhaps it was just a nervous tremor, they happen sometimes. But no there it is again! Izuku stares down as the weak squeeze slowly turns into a grasp of his hand.

“Katsuki?”

A third squeeze. That meant the man was alert enough to hear and understand! Friend or not, it was the kind of thing to get a neurologist excited! Izuku quickly moved into doctor mode again and starts checking all the stats as well as alerting the nurse on shift.

“Welcome back Mister Bakugou.”

The man squeezes his hand.

“I’m your doctor, Midoriya. You might remember me...”

The man squeezes again and tries to talk, but after being intubated for a long time the throat tends to be dry, sore, and the muscles weakened. All that comes through is so faint it’s barely audible.

“Mister Bakugou, you’ve been unconscious for almost two months now, please try not to talk just yet, everything will be fine.”

But that only makes the man angrier. Furious red eyes flashing, Katsuki grips harder to Izuku’s hand using what little strength he has to try and pull him closer. So, Izuku leans in. “Calm down, it’s gonna...”

“Ma—y...” angry growling noises. “Mar...”

Obviously, the man wasn’t going to stop until he gave in, so Izuku leans in even more until his ear is practically next to Katsuki’s mouth. “I’m sorry?”

“Marry me damnit!!”

Izuku shoots straight up. “What?!” Is the guy serious?! The first words out of his mouth is that?! Wow... Katsuki really hasn’t changed, feisty as ever even after almost dying.

“Pa-pa��per pen!”

“H-hold on, just try to calm down please! I don’t want you to strain your heart!”

Midoriya grabs the chart, flips the paper over to the blank backside, and puts a pen in Katsuki’s hand. He holds it steady as the man scribbled shakily. ‘No waste 2nd chance marry me Deku.’

“Mister Bakugou, this is...”

The man pounds his fist on the bed then scribbles more. ‘Stop call me that! nickname!’

Izuku sighs and squeezes his eyes closed for a second. He hadn’t used that name since primary just like he’d hadn’t heard Deku all these years. “Kacchan. Happy now? I-I can’t just say okay. You—y-you ditched me remember and now you suddenly pop up and expect me to marry you?! Kacchan you almost died, I get it, that’s a scary thing to deal with, but you just need time to process...”

Katsuki writes, ‘Nothin 2 think bout. No more regrets,’ Then he mouths out the rest in a whisper, “I love you Deku.”

Izuku sighs, “I’m not saying yes or no Kacchan. Just get well first okay, then we’ll talk about everything.”

“Fine.” The man closes his eyes again seemingly satisfied with the answer.

He squeezes Katsuki’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning Kacchan.”

When Izuku leaves that evening, he couldn’t help but walk out with a flutter in his chest and a pang in his heart. There really was a lot he still needed to get off his chest, but... he felt the honesty from Katsuki. If his dying regrets had been strong enough to reach him via spiritual mail, and the first thing he wanted to talk about was love, then... ‘take the second chance Izuku.’ Not everyone gets one.