#like. he’s not human (obviously) so it wouldn’t be surprising for him to have inhuman manerisms

[ocdhuacheng]

What is going on in ur little dog brain pochita…….

[yeowangies]

Covenant

PAIRING: Sukuna/AFAB!Reader. CONTENTS: AU - Medieval, Demon!Sukuna, Explicit Sexual Content, Dubcon, Mentions of blood. WORDCOUNT: 1404

Summary:

Turning to look for its point of origin, the voice was basically lost in the darkness, and your hands shuddered in anticipation.

Notes:

KINKTOBER DAY 2: DUBCON

This was inspired by the movie The Witch. I was so excited to write for Sukuna, but I don't know if I did him justice tbh. I had fun though, and I'll write more of him in the future!

divider by @/saradika-graphics

Surrounded in a puddle of blood inside your own dark, precarious house, you tried to wipe it away from your clothes, your hands, your face, but there was no use. If anything, you were spreading it more.

You couldn’t stop shaking, and the tears in your eyes made everything blurry. 

Your entire family was gone. All that was left were pieces of them, torn clothes, blood splattered on the floor and on the walls, and of course, you. 

It was your fault. You didn’t know how, but it was. 

You were powerless to stop the horror that was unleashed at your home, and the predicament was just as tortuous. Being the only survivor of a massacre was its own kind of hell. 

With resigned courage, you walked into the forest just a few meters away from what used to be your place. It surprised you that you didn’t feel any doubt about doing so, no matter that you were still shaken up about what you’ve lost. 

An ominous voice was what made your heart sink as the sun went down. 

“Have you lost something, brat?”

Turning to look for its point of origin, the voice was basically lost in the darkness, and your hands shuddered in anticipation. 

“Who are you?” You asked with feigned bravery. “Where are you?”

A mocking laugh was your response, and a shiver ran up your spine. 

“Where is your family?” The voice asked. It lacked any kind of warmth you could have recognized in any other human being, and it only made you tremble more. Whoever was speaking was obviously laughing at you, mocking you, and fear crept in quickly. “You are alone, aren’t you, girl?”

When a figure suddenly appeared out of thin in front of you, you fell backwards, gasping in shock. 

Whatever it was, it was enormous, imposing, with four arms, and four eyes that gleamed through the dark. 

Inhuman. 

“Look at you, all lost and alone.” He licked his lips, eying you with all his eyes as if you were a piece of meat. “Do you need help?”

“What are you? What do you want?” You demanded urgently, with a breathy voice.

“To help you.” He replied; he was grinning, sharp teeth visible like pearls in the night, but he sounded annoyed with you. “Your family is dead, isn't it? You have nothing left in this world, you are better off this way. I can give you something, anything.”

“What?” You asked, stunned, but he went, ignoring you.

“They would have married you off to some poor idiot who wouldn’t even touch you the way you deserve, and you’d die as poorly as you lived. But I can give you whatever you desire.” You were too taken aback to move when he approached you, towering in front of you with his impressive size. “I see your heart, you envy those wealthy women with flamboyant dresses, living in mansions while you starve to death. I will give you the biggest castle, with the most expensive dresses and impressive jewls.”

He paused, leaning down to gaze at you with unnaturally red eyes.

“If you stay by my side, and give me your soul.”

“What… What does that mean?” Your breathing turned erratic, louder, at the shock of what was currently happening. 

“You will live a fruitful life, far longer than anyone in your ancestry has ever lived.”

No matter that you were clearly in the presence of a demon, with sharp, sinister features, you couldn’t avert your eyes from him, like a magnetic field was drawing you closer. Even if you were too stunned to move, you couldn’t even move away from him if you wanted to.

And a voice inside you told you that even if you tried, he wouldn’t let you go too far.

He stared at you, expectantly, as if he knew you were going to say yes. 

“I don’t have all day, girl.” He playfully complained, in a tone that feigned annoyance, but his eyes stared up and down your body as he spoke. “I have another calamity to attend to.”

It shouldn’t have been a hard choice, it really shouldn’t have been. But you had considered your options before this entity even showed up: you’d either find a job for another lord, who would beat you, abuse you and even rape you, only to be dead at a probably young age, not long from then, of an unknown disease; or in worst cases, you’ll be begging for food on the streets, maybe even trading sex for money, leaving you vulnerable again, with an unknown fate that would make you die as a penniless person. 

Gulping hard, eyes closed, you drooped your shoulders in defeat.

“I accept.”

Your vision turned blurry, back hitting the dirt as you were pushed backwards with full force with a hand on your neck. You gasped for air, as he climbed on top of you, all hands pressing you to the ground as he laughed wickedly. 

“That was too easy!” He scorned, ripping your clothes with little effort. 

“No!” You tried to cling to whatever fabric was left on you, to no avail when he pinned your arms to the ground.

“Shut up!” He roared, making you whimper when he tightened his grip on your forearms. “We have to seal the deal, and this is how we do it.”

“But I-”

“You accepted this.” He scolded you with a tone that made your stomach sink, empty yet heavy eyes staring at your face. “I don’t give a shit if you want to die in this disgusting forest, I’ll leave you to rot right here if you take your word back.”

You gulped, tears threatening to spill as he squeezed his grip around your throat. 

“Do you really want to end up beaten and raped by some revolting rich man, dying as pathetically as you lived?” When you shook your head softly with a sob, he unwrapped his hand from your neck. “You’ll enjoy this, it’s not as bad as you think.”

The mischievous grin on his lips didn’t give you any reassurance; he sounded like he was making fun of you with every word he spoke. 

However, you didn’t fight anymore. When he grabbed and kneaded one of your breasts, nipples already erect when the cool air hit your body, you whined, but didn’t complain. It was a strange sensation, to have his hands on you, his lecherous gaze focusing on every curve. It felt wrong, and simultaneously so good, when his fingers dragged down your sides, nails turned your skin red. 

As he pulled his pants down, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what you assumed would be pain (you had been told it’d hurt on the first time), but his hand on the back of your head forced you to watch in horror as two cocks bounced free. 

“My name is Sukuna. Remember it, it’s the only name you’ll scream from now on.”

Your mind turned blank when he suddenly pushed both of his cocks against you, penetrating your pussy and asshole simultaneously. Your body was numb, pain surging through your veins, as he started moving unrelentingly. You watch with hazy eyes as he slid his cocks in and out of your holes, mouth hung open, breathy whimpers and sobs spilling from your lips. 

You didn’t even notice you were crying until your face was drenched.

The hand on your head pushed you against the ground again, squeezing your neck, coercing you to meet his eyes. 

“You break my fucking heart.” Sukuna chuckled, licking his lips. “You’re crying on your first time? No one will treat you as nicely as I am.”

Something wet and warm sliding across your lower abdomen made you choke back a moan, alarmed since you had no idea what was real or not anymore. But something bloomed rapidly inside your tummy, like a wildfire.

“Oh, you like that? What a slutty girl!” His dark voice sneered at the pathetic situation you were in.Pain and pleasure mixed in together, turning your brain to mush. You couldn’t explain what was happening to you, noises spilling from deep inside your chest, moans, whimpers and sobs, with each thrust of his hips. Whatever wet thing was sliding between your legs made your body shake with delight, and your eyes were rolling back into your head as he tightened his grip on your throat.

[campbyler]

mmm what the fuck?

how am i supposed to live like a normal functioning person after experiencing the full range of human and Inhuman emotions?

thea i love u i promise but i also want to kill u in the most cruel way possible.

i was trying to read 32k words one hour before the work and failed Miserably 😭 i only get through driving lesson part. can u believe i had to do actual work the entire day instead of reading my gay fanfiction? 💔heartbreaking misogynistic And homophobic if u ask me.

anyway. i know im going to forget something. it always happens and then im too shy to send other asks so let hope it doesn’t happen this time.

driving lesson.

don’t worry about ur manual transmission description. i’ve changed three instructors in the span of year and a half and all three of them told me different things. i didn’t notice any Big Serious issues that would be at odds with driving mechanic.

to the other news. will sucks 😭😭 not his fault Obviously. he’s naturally anxious and tbh mike didn’t give him any hints about how to feel when the car is ready to go. not mikes fault too. i bet he doesn’t even think about this little thing anymore (and cause u don’t know about them either. which is ok don’t worry about it. u probably just need to experience it ti fully understand). i was so happy when will finally manage to get the car going 😭😭 i probably called him baby too.

and then i literally passed out when i saw the mike called Him baby?? first will’s brain in denial made me questioning was it really for him or for the car. cause mike Loves that car i wouldn’t be surprised if he really call it baby from time to time. but then i remembered that we know how mike feels thanks god and i became like 85% sure that it was for will. (i also Run to check playlist right after this line. yeah i found “king of my heart” there. u make the impossible possible cause why am i listening to two of my least favorite reputation songs and genuinely enjoy them?)

i mentally add the keychains to the list of things we need to know more about. but i think it’s cute that they both not only save them but also use them almost daily. and they both choose car keys to hang the keychains on. dare i say soulmates.

*two weeks later*

also i think it’s funny they consider each other hot while driving.

and of course mike is obsessed with old expensive cars!!

are the malls in the us exactly dying? my office building is near the mall and i can guarantee u that in my country they r super alive.

ok i might be wrong but i think that the deleted scene is from bookstore part idk.

i think it’s cute that they trust each other enough to allow to choose as significant item as journals concerning that they really picky about them.

and i loved that mike blushed over a simple kiss 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(i feel like i want to catch up on everything and it’s killing me cause i write down one thing and immediately remember the other 😭)

THEY WERE SO BOYFRIENDS IN DINER!!! i don’t think i will ever recover from how cute they r and how much they actually like each other (and how single i am. as the classic said “when someone will prey on my neurodivergency….” and so on and so forth). i love that everyone can see it and im obsessed that boys don’t even want to deny it. i think a lot about the fact that mike said that they middle school sweethearts like he regrets about the missed opportunities (but also he doesn’t regret cause the thing they have now (at this exact moment. cause i still have bad feeling) is like that Because of years of semi-friendship and rivalry and unsaid confessions).

and i think even more about the fact that mike didn’t want to talk about his pretentious ivy league college. squinting so hard and taking a lot of notes (in fact writing paragraphs of analysis to my friends who has no idea what acswy).

the photobooth scene!!! omg i can’t believe u almost deleted it all??? suni is our hero! lots of hugs and kisses and thanks to them!!

i can’t believe mike talked about showing pictures to their friends in one minute and literally kissing will on them in the other. i love them they r so silly and in love and can’t get enough of each other. u can feel how close they become and that the air is thick with the newfound (and rediscovered) feelings. and they can’t live without touching and the hold hands constantly!!! all day long!!! and it’s not enough!!! and oh. i think it wasn’t the last time we saw pictures (squinting even harder).

the way max immediately cut the bullshit and asked about swearshirt. i need to know what lucas wrote to mike.

he likes him!!!

i love the difference between mikes “i know i like him but i won’t do anything about it” and wills “i need to kiss him to death right now!”

and the kiss on the backseat of mikes stupid mustang!! we were all waiting for it!

i think i reread and memorized the last part and in still shaking whenever i think about “nervous” part. mike makes will nervous!! and he makes him shake and do stupid stuff like kissing and blushing and thinking to add heart next to his name and call him his boyfriend!!! omg!!

“I’ve got you, baby” WHO WILL GET ME??? im the one who is going insane??? it’s so tender. my boys 💔💔💔

(the second time. my eyes r hurting from squinting that much. and i feel like we’ll have “el’s not stupid” kind of scene in the flashbacks)

this character hits so hard!! i’ve never doubted any of u but i can see why this one is one of ur favorite thea!

thank u so much for ur hard work. if i could draw i would to the whole ass animation of this chapter (and any other too).

love u. thank u for reading all this rambling

mmm what the fuck is RIGHT alya bc this is how i feel every time i read one of ur lovely essay comments. bc whaqt the fuck. why do u want me to CRY ALL THE TIME. (i guess it's fair considering we are making u cry with the fic itself but still . Rude)

you are so real for trying to read 32k in one hour and also so me . rly fucked up and cruel that you would have to work (even tho u threatened to murder me)...i hope you are freed from these perils Soon. don't ever be too shy to send more asks tho every ask from you is a BLESSING and a TREAT!!! EVEN WHENTHEY ARE LACED W THREATS!!!!!!!!!!!! and also tysm for validating my manual driving lesson description bc fr every video i watched was different and i was so stressed but it's FINE. ALYA SIGNED OFF ON IT SO NO ONE ELSE MATTERS!!!!!!!!!!!!! DEAL W IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! will Does suck and that's one thing we can all agree on 💗💗💗 i was going to include a bit about likee what the engine Sounds like bc i know it sounds different when you're ready to switch gears but honest tbhly the driving scene alone is like 12k and i was super losing steam by the time i thought of it so i didn't <3 he is def a baby and mike def refers to his car as baby so he is right to be confused. but it WAS for him!! we actually aren't 100% sure of mike's feelings Yet (ch08 is meant to be the precipice of a realization, not an actual one) but obviously . we do have a pretty good idea of how he does feel. teehee. also i am glad you are enjoying komh now bc wtf......how is it one of your least faves................i support you but i am also judging u a little alya .

i think keychains will be included in one of the companions :o) also OBVIOUSLY they find each other hot while driving. they're both annoying and down bad 🙄🙄

malls here are super dying!! i think the only ones that aren't are ones in Major Cities (there's two nearby me that are pretty popular, but the other ones are mostly closed, and it's definitely been a phenomenon in the us over the last few years thanks to online shopping)!! the deleted scene is actually from the driving scene, but the bookstore scene Feels shorter bc i was truly at the point where i had nothing left to give when writing it (it was the last part of ch09 to be written), so it definitely suffered from that. if we ever do Huge post-mortem edits once acswy is over, i might go back and add to it, or write a deleted-scene-type companion, but tht's the tea w the bookstore scene <3

the diner scene was SOOOO fun to write and it had me blushing frfr. i answered this in another ask but the middle school sweethearts comment was Definitely the most insane thing that i thought of for this chapter and to me it was for sure the nail in the coffin for will of like damn. ok. he's Serious abt this. bc i think with their #history that will has trouble admitting even to himself that he likes mike, and so he'd need to feel pretty certain of how mike feels first, and after processing the middle school sweethearts comment later in the car that's what made him realize like oh damn. i Do like him. SO MUCH. and we all nodded and patted his back and said yeah baby we know. but what you described mike thinking is absolutely exactly how he feels 💗 very reminiscent and wistful, even.

LOL LITERALLY THIS HAS BEEN A UNANIMOUS COMMENT ACROSS THE BOARD OF "THANK GOD FOR SUNI" (INCLUDING MYSELF). to Explain the way i was feeling about it -- i did not initially mean to have that be a Spicy make out moment! it was supposed to read more along the lines of the thrift store scene, or even the kiss after will finished driving the mustang, so very sweet and soft and Romantic. it just didn't come out that way once i was actually writing it, and so i was nervous that i was toeing the line too heavily, or tht it was out of place with the rest of the vibe i had constructed for the chapter. a combination of suni (and abby, who got early access and acted as our second beta) being adamant that it Did fit and worked well, and me being too pressed for time/not having enough energy to rewrite that saved it from the deleted scene graveyard <3 thank god fr. they are both so fucking stupid.

the entiiiiire realization scene up from will realizing he likes mike to the very end of the chapter is my favorite thing that i have ever written i think 💗 i am just so happy with the way it turned out, especially with it being at the point in the fic that it's at!! it felt rly right for will :') also mike calling him baby!!! that was such a last minute decision but i'm so glad i went for it!! the original line was "i've got you, yeah?" but baby hit So much harder so shout out to editing thea for making that change 🤸 will wants to add a heart next to mike's name in his phone SOOOO BAD!!! WHEN WILL HE GET TO!!!!!!!!!!!

your second ask SO TRUE SO REAL. TEEHEE AND MWAHA AND SO ON AND SO FORTH. also you're so right jonathan is so fucked up for stealing steve from will like that 🙄

tytyty as always for your novel length comment alya 💗 really and genuinely and truthfully the thought of getting to read ur reactions is one of the most exciting parts of uploading a chapter!! i eagerly await all of ur other reactions <3333

[francixoxoxo]

Let’s discuss vampire Billy 🦇

He tries to take out a vampire who’s been terrorizing a town (there’s actually an old movie called “Billy the Kid vs Dracula”) but instead is turned himself. He feeds off the many cattle available in the West so that he doesn’t need to hunt people. Or, if he can’t survive without human blood, he wanders the countryside at night, feeding off campers he finds, being careful only to take a little from them. Maybe another vampire shows him a bordello where women are ready and willing to feed vampires. Weirdly enough, I think being a vampire would make him less dangerous. He’d be nearly impossible to kill so he wouldn’t have to fight for his life so much. He’d be stronger and faster than any human. He couldn’t be locked up because he can just disappear and reappear and walk through walls.

What do you think? And what do you think he’d look like as a vampire?

oh my God this is all so well said idek what to add lmfao

The feeding off cattle bit is interesting to me, because I feel like he'd be reading the paper or a friend would tell him about this mysterious animal killing the livestock but not eating their flesh, just sucking them dry of blood, and this man is sweating bullets like "Oh that's so weird wtf"

And with feeding off campers and wanderers, he'd feel so guilty. Like, awful. He'd sit down with them, chat a while, just try and be as friendly as possible and tell them he's also just passing through. And its plausible, his horse is tied up to a nearby tree, because no matter how fast he is, he'd still prefer a slow, scenic ride. He'd wait until they fell asleep, off of drinking or off of exhaustion, and take absolutely as little as possible, just enough to get him through the next day, just until he finds the next town.

I feel like he'd look about the same as a vampire? paler, obviously, but I do think his eyes would be that much bluer. Just absolutely striking, dare say inhuman, but he shrugs off each compliment with a shy smile.

How I think him and you'd meet is a farmer's daughter situation. You're sitting on the porch, you can't sleep well, it's perhaps midnight when you see a figure moving towards the pen your father lets the cattle and sheep graze in. Of course you've heard of the thing that's been sucking cattle dry, a chupacabra, a chimera, something evil. And, being a farm a ways away from town in the deep west, you rush inside for the shotgun, finding your way out to the barn with your chemise and bloomers, confronting the man as he jumps the fence. His blue eyes are literally inhumanely beautiful, especially so wide with surprise at a girl pointing a shotgun at him. He isn't afraid. But he's absolutely intrigued.

[misslisamiray]

Time for Chapter 5 of Down With the Rickness!

Quick note, this chapter has a minor emeto warning - there's no actual vomitting, but there is some brief discussion of it. It IS minor, I promise, but I just want to make everyone aware it's there so there's no unpleasant surprises if that's something you'd rather skip.

Now, without further ado, let's pick up where we left off last week! New chapter is below the cut.

“Almost forgot, I still need to take your temperature. Stick it under your tongue and try to not find a way to make this a problem too, please.” Morty sighed, handing Rick the thermometer.

“Well, I could *Cough!* *Cough!* say something about how outdated it is – seriously, do we not own a touch free model? Who doesn’t these days? Or point out that I have built-in sensors that can detect any changes in my body temperature.” Rick said, turning the thermometer over in his hands repeatedly. Noticing the glare that earned him from Morty, he added, “But I mean, even if it’s not exactly cutting edge tech, this thing is adequate for the job it’s designed to do. And I hate to admit this, but my sensors might not be working at the moment, so…” Without further stalling, he finally put the thermometer in his mouth.

“Let me see.” Morty said flatly when it beeped a moment later. Wordlessly, Rick handed the thermometer back to him.

“100° even. That’s not great, but I don’t think it’s too bad, either. Weird question, but your normal temperature is like, the same as anyone else’s, right? With all your implants and modifications, it’s not super high or low to begin with, is it? I just realized this might not be as useful as I thought.” Morty said, studying the thermometer. Rick alternated briefly between looking at Morty and down at his own hands. He hadn’t expected that question, much less for it to strike the nerve it had.

“Great. An existential crisis about my humanity is just what I needed right now. And since when do I give a fuck?... Ugh. Stupid fever, stupid cold. I really can’t think.” he mumbled. Then he realized Morty was staring at him worriedly – what the boy had been able to decipher of Rick’s muttering was both concerning, and not an answer to his question.

“In spite of all my modifications, Morty, yes. At the end of the day, for better or worse, I’m still human.”

“I wasn’t saying you aren’t…”

“’Worse’ including still being susceptible to bullshit like the common cold. *Sniff!* So yes, you can take the number on that thing at face value. Obviously, there’s some variation – some people’s baseline is higher or lower than the ‘standard’ 98.6° Fahrenheit, 37° Celsius. I *COUGH!* normally run low myself, but not to an inhuman degree.”

“Okay. That’s good. It means your fever isn’t that bad. Not like, dangerous or anything. Phew.” Morty said, still a little puzzled by Rick’s reaction to what he’d thought was a harmless question. No answer from Rick, who was both still lost in thought… and starting to feel the effects of having downed the nearly full medicine bottle, then chasing it with an also nearly full flask.

Finally registering the fact Morty had said… something to him, he mumbled, “Y-yeah.What *URP!* ever you say, Morty. Uhh, remind me, what did you just say?”

“I said it’s a good thing your fever doesn’t seem bad, and ummm, you doing okay? You don’t look so hot.” Morty answered, noticing how unfocused Rick’s gaze had become.

Rick struggled to reply. Morty’s voice was echoing all around the two of them, but also sounded far away. It didn’t help that the walls appeared to be spinning. And melting. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were just one or the other, but the combo was brutal.

“Shit. M-Morty, do the walls look normal to you? I know it’s hard to tell since they won’t stay still, but…” he slurred, closing his eyes and trying to fight off a wave of dizziness.

“The walls? *SIGH!* Rick, the walls look fine. You, on the other hand, look terrible.” Morty replied, realizing exactly what was happening.

“Gee, it’d be great if everyone could stop telling me that! *COUGH!* *COUGH!* I’m sick, okay? Let’s see you or Summer win any beauty contests while you feel like you’re being suffocated by your own snot.” Rick whined, punching the bed and opening his eyes just enough to glare at Morty.

“God, you’re a drama queen, Rick. You know what I meant. Or at least, you would if you weren’t seeing what, a dozen of me?” Morty said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, Morty! There’s only 5, maybe 6 of you at most. Ohhhh. I think, I think I might’ve made a slight error in judgment with the, with the medicine there, Morty.” Rick snapped, forcing his eyes open the rest of the way to get an accurate count of just how many Mortys were lecturing him. That led to instant regret. The sight of 5-6 annoyed, eye-rolling grandsons, combined with the melting, spinning walls, made the dizziness multiple times worse. Rick quickly shut his eyes again and sat stooped over, cradling his head in his hands.

“Gee, you think? Easy, pal. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You uh, think you need to hurl?” Morty sighed, rubbing Rick’s back with one hand and holding a small trash can in front of him with the other.

Rick thought it over once he was able to process the question, finally answering, “N-no. Ugh, maybe. No. I just, just think I need to sit down.”

“Rick, you are sitting down.” Morty informed him, still holding the trash can firmly in place.

“Really?” Rick, cautiously opening his eyes just a little to check, was clearly surprised by that information.

“Uh-huh.”

“In that case, I think *ACHOO!* I need to lie down now. Like, right now. Goodnight, Summer.” Rick groaned. With that, he fell forward on the bed, landing flat on his face, and was instantly out like a light.

“Seriously?! I’ve seen you barely get a buzz from huffing crystals that killed a guy made out of boulders and 10 times your size! Plus, you did twice as much as him, so he might as well have been 20 times bigger than you! I swear, if after everything, you’ve managed to OD or give yourself permanent brain damage with over-the-counter cold medicine…” Morty yelled, tossing the trash can aside and shaking Rick by the shoulders.

“Come on! It’s not even one of the kinds they keep locked up at the pharmacy. It’s shit you’d buy next to like, vitamins and deodorant! Pretending to be asleep so you don’t get a lecture you deserve isn’t funny. And I’m not falling for it, Rick! Rick?” Morty’s voice turned timid and a little scared when he realized Rick was still much too quiet and not moving. He was about to call for help, when the loud snoring started.

“Okay. You’re sleeping. Sleeping is good. You need to rest, and I could use a rest from, well, you.” Morty mumbled, clearly relieved. He let go of Rick’s shoulders, causing him to land face down on his bed again.

Morty stood there for a few minutes, observing Rick. He was not a quiet sleeper to begin with, and his snoring was currently much louder than usual due to his congestion. But he seemed to be breathing normally otherwise, so that was good. With minimal effort, Morty rolled Rick onto his left side so he wouldn’t choke if he did throw up. He also put the small trashcan in front of him, just in case. He tried fixing the tangled mess of blankets, which was easier said than done, eventually managing to get Rick mostly covered. Since his grandfather had passed out at the wrong end of the bed and the nightstand was by his feet, Morty placed the tissue box next to Rick’s head.

Listening to the increasingly loud snoring, Morty took a look around the room to see if there was anything else he could do, anything Rick might need. Nothing jumped out at him, but he saw something Rick definitely would not be needing today -the portal gun. Morty grabbed it tentatively, expecting an alarm to go off, or maybe a robot arm to snatch the gun out of his hand. Nothing happened, and the only sound was still Rick’s snoring. Before that could change, Morty hurried out of the room. 

Summer was standing in a mile-long line at the Space Wal-Mart just past Neptune.

“Seriously? Why is there only one register open?! This store is like, half the size of this whole planet! Seems like pretty terrible planning to me.” she complained. Similar sentiments were being echoed by various alien creatures throughout the line.

“Yep. It’s shitty, alright. This place purposely understaffs and overworks its employees to an insane degree, despite the fact it continually breaks its own profit records. It works – barely – when they’re ‘fully’ staffed. But then you get days where they have callouts, one cashier gets eaten by another, everyone else is busy either breaking up brawls or helping at the broken self-checkouts, and well…” Space Beth observed, tapping Summer’s shoulder and gesturing to the chaos.

“Mom! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Grandpa had a list of bullshit errands for you to run, too.” Summer exclaimed.

“No. Well, I suppose technically yes… Your other mom filled me in on what’s happening, so I’m here to help.”

“Cool. This list is so long. And boring. And dumb. Clearly Grandpa’s had it for ages and has just kept adding more shit to it that he doesn’t want to do because this sucks.” Summer complained, pulling the notebook from her pocket.

“That sounds like him. So, I hear you won this charming prize by calling him out on his bs and figuring out he has a cold, not the scary sounding alien disease he told you he has.” SB commented. She grabbed the notebook from Summer’s hand and started flipping through the pages.

“I knew it! Did Home Mom figure it out, too, or get him to come clean after I left? Oh em gee, if it was Dad, Grandpa Rick must be furious!” Summer giggled.

“Actually, he sent her off to work right after you had to leave on this little field trip. She called me to ask what I knew about the terrible illness Dad supposedly has, and…” Space Beth explained with a shrug, adding, “As for Jerry and Morty, there is a very good chance they still believe Dad and are waiting for him to stop sneezing and break out in horns or some dumb shit. But it’s fine. The three of them can work all of that out on their own.”

“Totes. So, how do you want to divide this thing? Besides everything else lame about it, it’s not even in any sort of order. If we go from first page to last, we’ll be bouncing back and forth across galaxies for days. I mean, it says ‘Return books to First Library of Saturn’, followed by ‘Hardware store on Gear World for replacement finger screwdrivers’, and then ‘Martian cell phone store to dispute charges for calls to the Planet of the Apes’. Ugh. It makes no sense.” Summer complained.

“Yeah, deciphering this mess could be an all-day project in and of itself. Unless of course, I do this.” Space Beth agreed. She put on a visor and pressed a button on the side of it while flipping through the notebook pages. It scanned the incoherent mess that was Rick’s list, and a few seconds later, two smaller, neater lists printed from the device on her wrist.

“There. Now that everything that was written multiple times has been filtered out, and we don’t have to decipher the scribbles Dad calls handwriting, this is looking much more manageable. So, you wanna handle everything in this solar system, and I’ll take care of everything outside it? Looks like a pretty even split.” Space Beth said, holding the two lists out to her daughter. Summer grabbed one, along with shoving the original back into her pocket.

“Thanks, Cool Mom. Ugh, this line still isn’t moving. Any ideas for making this suck less?”

“Hey, I already cut your lameass chore list in half. I’m not a miracle worker.”

“That’s fair.”

The two of them looked around at the chaos. The line was now out the door and wrapping around the building. Several fights and at least one fire had started.

“Look, I wouldn’t normally encourage this sort of behavior, but if a major corporation like this can’t show enough concern for either its employees or customers to prevent all this from happening, maybe they deserve to, I don’t know, have a shopping cart full of random shit stolen from them?” Space Beth suggested.

Summer looked a little surprised by the idea, so SB continued , “Or maybe… it’s very important you get all of this back to your poor sick grandfather on Earth right away, and there’s no time to be standing around here.”

Seeing that her daughter was intrigued, but still skeptical, she quickly added, “And just think, if you get caught, you’ll be banned for life, so Rick can never make you come here again.” Those were the magic words.

Already charging for the exit, Summer shouted back, “Half of this is alien junk food, and the rest is stupid crap Grandpa saw commercials for and won’t even remember why he wanted. None of it is important at all, but everything else you said is spot on! Now come on, bitch! This was your idea! Run for it!” Space Beth immediately ran after her.

“Yeah! 10 finger discount, assholes! I am outta here!” a large, red alien with 10 digits per hand shouted, picking up his overstuffed cart with one arm while pumping his other fist in the air triumphantly. With that, all the customers who weren’t busy fighting each other or vandalizing things ran for the exits.

“No! Wait! Stop! Security! I need Security, NOW!” the sole cashier, a petite, blue-green alien with 3 eyes and long purple hair yelled. She was brandishing a fire extinguisher in each hand, one to actually put out a fire, and the other to club someone trying to sneak up behind her to steal cigarettes.

Three very muscular security guards, similar to the red alien but more orange in color, appeared and proceeded to be no help whatsoever. One grabbed all the candy they could hold -which was quite a bit, considering the large, 10-fingered hands – and made a run for it. The other two looked at each other for a few seconds, then jumped on the conveyor belt and started making out. Another fire started at the next closed register.

“You know what? Fuck it! I’m better than this job, anyway. I quit!” the tired cashier exclaimed, throwing her two fire extinguishers aside. She tossed her apron on top of the making out security guards, and easily picked up a vending machine several times larger than her small body. Then it was her turn to run.

At the exit, Summer paused to smile directly at the security camera, making sure to hold up her driver’s license for good measure. Space Beth didn’t do all that, but did wave at the camera. And then they were out the door, never to set foot in Space Walmart again.

[thecyrulik]

Morning Surprise

Here's a continuation of Yet Another Purring Vampire story. Our poor little creechur keeps having a terrible time at the hunters' little settlement. In case anyone was wondering: the setting is mostly Earthlike in the 60s - they loved doing morally dubious experiments at that time so it seemed fitting.

CW: burning, captivity, vampires, blood, torture, discussion of experimenting, reluctant whumper, sentient creature treated like an animal (I'd call it dehumanization but Kosta isn't a human, after all)

Matt Morgan wasn’t exactly what you’d call a kind man. He wasn’t noble, and he wasn’t too generous either. And God knew he had every reason to hate the creatures that killed his wife, his sister, his fathers and one of his daughters, that much was obvious. Still, there were borders he tried not to cross. And right now he felt awfully close to one of those borders. He thought about the leech screaming like it was in agony when he pulled out its fang, when he punctured its lung, when he held it down for Dr Taylor, or when he watched it have its venom drained. He didn’t feel sorry for the beast, no. He still thought it inhumane to treat a thinking creature like that.

That’s why he ran towards the vampire’s cage as soon as he heard its screaming. It was such a miserable sound, Matt couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the vampire despite his general sentiment towards its kind. The beast was squirming now and then, trying to crawl the wall to escape the sun, obviously failing. Its struggles made everything worse.

“Hey! Stop moving so much, you’re not helping yourself!” he said, but the vampire didn’t look like it heard him through its pained gasps and whines. “Damn. Stay here, I’ll get something to shade you,” he added, aware that his command was a stupid one, as the vampire couldn’t go anywhere anyway.

He rushed to the hunters’ storeroom and frantically searched for a piece of cloth big enough it could cover most of the cage. It only took him a moment and he almost ran back to the miserable beast that was already shrieking – and in doing that, waking the whole village, it seemed – and threw the white cloth over the cage’s roof. The screams eased down as he walked around it, pulling it higher and unfolding the edges so it would cover more area.

The sounds the vampire was making as he was done with sunproofing the cage were more keening than blood-curdling, but it was still an awful noise. Matt wondered about throwing the last piece to the vampire so it could wrap itself in it just as the fucking doctor appeared out of nowhere.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“Someone forgot about making sure the vampire wouldn’t burn to a crisp, so I covered the cage a little. Just take a look, it’s pretty fucked up.”

He leaned back and pulled the cloth away a little so they could both look at the creature sobbing and muttering on the ground. It flinched when a ray of early sunlight caught its bare foot again, so Matt pulled the material back.

“Well shit, it looks bad.”

“Obviously it looks bad, the sun burns them! But I wanted to know how bad while it’s still fairly well-fed, you dumb brute! Experiments are supposed to be done in set conditions and now I don’t know how long it was really exposed to the sun and the whole test is ruined,” the doctor explained, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Well, try a warning next time, then. Ungodly shrieks like that aren’t what we need here in the early morning,” Matt sneered as he considered the doctor’s words. His explanation made little sense. Weren’t scientists supposed to supervise their experiments? Taylor was nowhere to be found as the sun rose and started burning the leech, which was suspicious to say the least.

Still, the hunter said nothing. The last thing he wanted was to be accused of being too soft on vampires. He just pretended to listen as Dr Taylor grumbled for a little while about how his experiment was ruined and how he had to wait now until the vampire healed to start anew. He checked on the creature, still curled up, its arms and legs twitching in pain, but the noise coming from its mouth was much quieter, which Matt considered a good sign.

Finally the doctor was done complaining and simply left without a word of goodbye. Matt figured it would be okay for him to let the beast heal for now, given how Dr Taylor wanted it in good condition for ‘experiments’, whatever those were.

He slipped under the cloth covering the cage yet again. The vampire was just a trembling mess in the far end of the cage. The white material was far from opaque, so the beast was still burning slightly, but it seemed not to care much now that it wasn’t actively being set on fire. The whimpering was barely audible, actually.

“Here, bloodfuck. Cover yourself up,” Matt said as he threw the last piece of cloth at the vampire. It raised its head, staring at Matt with pure hatred. After noticing what was being thrown at it, it moved suddenly, much faster than the hunter anticipated it to. He stared in morbid curiosity as it curled up yet again, wrapped in white sheets slowly darkening with burnt skin bleeding slowly. The hunter felt a subconscious urge to pull out his gun despite the vampire being in such a terrible state. It couldn’t hurt him right now, that much was obvious, but still. He knew too well how an angry or pained vampire might wreak havoc on its surroundings.

The leech grabbed the cloth tight, wrapping itself as much as it could and curling up on the ground. It raised its head to stare at Matt and for a moment the hunter saw something like gratitude in the monster’s eyes. Its expressions were hard to understand, given the muzzle, but it seemed that it appreciated the material partly protecting it from sunlight. The hatred was gone and the beast seemed to be just lonely and miserable, and not particularly dangerous anymore.

He thought about grabbing the key to the cage. He knew where they kept it, and the vampire was obviously not a threat, charred and miserable as it was now. He worried about seeming too soft about the bloodfuck, yes, but if anyone was allowed to hate the vampires with the hatred he felt, it was Matt.

But there was no point in getting inside either way. If he wanted it hurt, all he had to do was to pull the sheets down again. If he wanted to help it – and why the fuck would he want to do that? – he already did much more than the vampire could hope for. Surely it knew it wouldn’t be getting out of here alive, right?

He stared at the creature bundled up on the ground. It seemed not to move at first, but looking closely, he saw fine shivers passing through its whole body. The now-familiar purring sound started again, the vampire quite obviously trying to self-soothe and calm itself down, results of that rather unclear. The smell of burnt skin was still quite intense and Matt wanted to leave, but the sight of this dangerous beast he was raised to hate captivated him. He thought about Dr Taylor and his experiments. The venom extraction made sense – it served as a pretty strong drug, working better than any chemical the weird doc had in his lab. Defanging the creature could only make things safer for them, too. But as much as he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, it was one thing to hunt vampires and another one entirely to keep them caged and tortured. There was also the audacity of keeping a dangerous beast like that, in the middle of their village. The men who raised him would never agree to such a risky thing – but they were dead now, and the doctor was basically ruling the whole settlement.

The vampire didn’t seem to realize it was being watched, its fate being pondered on. In fact, it didn’t seem like it was aware of anything beside the burns on its skin and the sun seeping through the cloth, no doubt still causing some discomfort. The purrs were constant, growing and fading slowly, occasionally interrupted with sounds that were too close to actual human sobs for Matt’s comfort. He slipped from under the cloth and pulled it back, suddenly wanting to get far enough not to hear the creature’s misery.

Tagging the vampire gang: @ceph-the-writing-spook @whumpy-writings @whumpsday @hold-him-down @deluxewhump @aswallowimprisoned @melancholy-in-the-morning @wolfeyedwitch @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

DM/ask to be added or removed

next

[moonbaby26]

Title: What the Heart Wants

Pairings: Young!Shota Aizawa x GN!Reader

Summary: You were a young hero in training, living in the United States. And when your high school offered an exchange internship to one of the hero agencies in Japan, you were first in line. But the last thing you expected was to fall for another of their young hopefuls.

Notes: Story features the other dumbigos as well. It’s implied that this story is just the reader reminiscing, and that the reader and Aizawa have been in an established relationship ever since.

Warnings: Mention of blood and a little battle damage, otherwise just superpowered teenage friends being pretty wholesome honestly.

My Masterlist

——————————

The first time you’d ever met the now pro hero Eraser Head, he hadn’t been much more than another teenager in over their head so much like yourself.

Back then you hadn’t known how to say no to anything either. While most of your classmates had been taking the typical internship offers from your state’s local hero agencies, you’d heard about a new exchange program abroad. And of course you’d jumped at the opportunity, anything to set yourself even one hair’s edge above the amazing competition.

Your Japanese had been terrible too honestly, so much so that you’d almost been afraid to speak for fear of ridicule once you reached Japan.

Luckily, the hero you were assigned to, Stunner Man was fluent in several languages. And his quirk was something akin to fireworks from his body at will, like a human flash bang. It greatly complimented your own quirk of consuming light energy to then expel it as energy blasts as well.

For the first few jobs together, you’d likely grown too confident and complacent because of this. It was all too easy to replace your own energy by drawing in that light from his fireworks. Sometimes to the point that all around you went dark, before then expelling the energy again as concentrated blasts from your hands to help incapacitate the small time villains you both ran across.

But then had come that rainy night and reports of a much stronger villain taking out actual teams of heroes somewhere downtown. Multiple agencies had responded to this of course, but your hero had been adamant about you staying behind. This was real danger he said, and it would be unheroic to let your desire for success blind you to your own inexperience. You would be a liability in the main battle, and you could be just as valuable assisting firemen and police in their efforts to evacuate the nearby apartment buildings instead.

Of course you were obedient, and so there you’d been, running up the stairs and through the corridors as fire alarms blared and people cried in panic in these high rise buildings. You’d put on your best act of confidence, directing the scared people to exits, asking them to mind their neighbors. You told them not to push, to please help those that were elderly or disabled, and that it would all be all right. Surely it would be because so many pro heroes were now on the job.

But just as you were almost done clearing the last floor at the top of that building, a terrible crash had sounded from far down the hall. Maybe debris breaking through from the nearby battle? You were cautious enough though to make sure that the police and firemen safely exited this floor entirely with the last civilians before you went to investigate.

You would make sure no one was left behind, that no one was hurt or trapped. But as you’d rounded the corner, in a glitter of broken glass and blood, that was where you’d first seen Shota Aizawa…Eraser Head.

He was only a sidekick you thought immediately though just from his age, so similar to your own. Yet he was already trying to get back to his feet even as you called out to him. The hole he’d come through in the large windows and the cracked wall around it were letting the rain now blow fiercely inside.

“Get back!” He’d yelled right back to you in Japanese however. As if he wasn’t losing blood all over the floor as you did pause brief enough to hear an odd humming sound outside even over the rain.

It was reflex of course. He hadn’t even been facing you, but the way he tensed you’d assumed what was going to happen only that fraction of a second before it did. Before whatever villain had just thrown him through this window attacked again, you’d used your energy reserves to make a shield of light between Shota and the broken windows and wall.

The blast that came through the hole had likely been intended to finish the boy. As it was, it still exploded violently against your force field, the recoil sending pain through your arms as you’d dug your boots into the floor beneath you as much as you could just to keep from being knocked backwards with the force.

You wouldn’t be able to take another direct strike like that without gathering more energy. And in the confusion as the blast did dissipate, you ran forward, grabbing the boy by the wrist. “Come on!”

You only saw the surprise in his reddened eyes for just a moment, the first time he’d really looked at you. His shaggy black hair was dripping on you from the rain before you both ran together.

“It’s going to get dark. Just hold on to me and trust me!” You spoke as you pulled your goggles down from off your head to cover your eyes in mid run. The goggles were a support item developed especially for you. In darkness you could switch between night-vision and thermal imaging to allow you to still see when your opponents and even teammates could not. And when you used your light abilities to discharge energy again, the opacity of the lenses darkened instantly to keep you from being blinded by the brightness of your own quirk as well.

As you both ran, you activated your quirk to draw energy from the artificial lighting in the hallway. True to your word, the whole hall became almost pitch black in short time. Your skin darkening to an inhuman shade as well as you used your power, a color akin to the lightless void now around you as you led him to a stairwell in the center of the building.

“Will the villain follow us in?” You asked as you closed the door, but making sure not to absorb all the light of the stairwell as well as you could still hear people making their way down to evacuate below. You knew you couldn’t stay in this place long. You had to protect these people you had already been trying to rescue as well. But information was always crucial to having a better chance at victory, and you needed anything that the boy could tell you quickly now.

As you lifted your goggles back up in the light of the stairwell, you were already trying to assess his wounds as well. But when you realized he was just staring at you, you finally made eye contact with him again just before he spoke.

“He’s more powerful out in the open.” The boy said. “So I don’t think he’ll follow us inside yet. But you’re assuming I’m a hero?” He sounded somewhat surprised? But the way he was looking you over, he was also trying to discern your quirk even in his own confusion.

“You told me to get back when I found you in the hallway, even though you were hurt.” You saw now that most of the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. A puncture wound maybe? “Who else would worry about others even when being attacked themselves?”

You saw his eyes widen a little at the sort of compliment, but you kept on. “And I’m sorry if I’m hard to understand. My name is (Y/N). I’m from the United States. Part of the intern exchange. I’m working for Stunner Man right now.”

“I can understand you.” He admitted. Though still looking at you in that odd way. “My name is Shota Aizawa.” He paused, seeming a little less confident, before he admitted his nickname. “Codename Eraser Head. I’m interning from the UA with His Purple Highness.”

“Oh,” You said, impressed truthfully, as that school’s hero course was obviously world renowned. But from the quizzical look you couldn’t help but show at his codename, he clearly had already discerned your next question.

He answered before you could ask, but even as he did you could tell he was already steeling himself for your disappointment. “I can erase others’ quirks just by looking at them.”

“You can…what?” You stared helplessly, for a moment almost forgetting your training to always be cool and collected as you tried to fathom what on earth this boy could really mean.

But he just stared back at you, was he that surprised at your reaction?

When he said nothing more, you had to shake away your shock to press further. “I’m sorry. This might be the language barrier again, but I need you to explain that to me please.”

Hero work could lead to unexpected team up situations at any time. And if this was to be one of those times, you both needed to know what you would be dealing with.

He frowned slightly, like he was having to talk more about himself than he was comfortable with. But he did comply. “If I activate my quirk while someone is in my direct line of sight, it inactivates theirs. But I can only do it for so long. Once I blink, or the line of sight is broken, their powers will come back.”

Silence hung between you for one long moment after his admission, and you could sense the tangible unease building in him.

You didn’t mean to make him jump either when you just blurted out. “That’s amazing!”

You still didn’t yell, but it was loud enough to be unexpected. But you couldn’t help it. You’d never heard of such a quirk. How could anyone be so powerful to make someone else quirkless just by looking at them!?

And why the hell did he look so self conscious about this? “You can’t be this modest. How are you not believing me that this is amazing!? I bet you only got thrown in here then because the rain obscured your vision, right!?” Your voice was quickening with your excitement. Your strategies to victory also readily multiplying in your brain. You could make a shield of light to push away the rain and Shota could look at the villain to make them helpless, then you could take them out with a subsequent light blast!

“My quirk has no offensive merit.” He deadpanned.

“Not every quirk has to!” You retorted, but maybe yourself now finally starting to understand a hint to his self conscious nature. “There are always multiple ways to win! Don’t they teach you that at UA?”

“We need to get moving,” He grumbled still in resistance to this subject. “People could be being killed out there.”

He wasn’t wrong you knew, as you nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to gather information.” Which fair was fair as you tried to keep your own explanation as straight forward as you could.

“As you saw, my quirk is that I can absorb visible light energy. It doesn’t matter what kind. I darken everything as I absorb the light around me. I can store it inside myself, then discharge it when I’m ready, to make force fields for defense…or light blasts for offense or distraction to blind opponents.” Like everyone though, there was always still a catch as you continued. “But the weakness is that once I’ve discharged what I have, I’m tapped out until I can absorb more light. Which, at night in a rainstorm like this…there’s not much to be had.”

He was mostly stone faced as he listened to you though. But there was an analytic sharpness to his eyes, like you were inputting information into a human calculator before abruptly he tried to walk back away from you as if to continue up the stairs.

“I have a plan then,” He announced quietly, his back already to you again.

As much as you somehow believed him already though, you grabbed his hand before he could get much farther. “And whatever that plan is, we still won’t be much help to anyone if you faint from blood loss.”

It was obvious he was someone not used to being touched, you could tell that from the instant way he stilled and looked back at you.

But you didn’t weaken at the stare, only offering him a slight smile. “I’ve been trained in emergency first aid as well. There are first aid kits all through this stairway.” You’d passed them on the way up. “I’ll be quick, alright?”

————————————

The logical side of him must have won out that night in that stairwell. He’d known you were right about at least stopping his bleeding. But that was the real beginning you thought. This odd relationship that would keep its hold on you both for so many years to come.

Him, still so skinny then and self conscious, quiet and awkward as he’d sat on one of the stairs, holding his shirt up so you could clean and disinfect the wound just above his belt while you kneeled in front of him. Luckily the injury was not as deep as it could have been. Just too wide to close or clot on its own as you’d wrapped his abdomen with the appropriate bandages after cleaning out the debris.

And you kept your word, you still weren’t negligent of your duty as a hero in training even then. You didn’t waste any time at all, being as quick and efficient as you could while working on him. But even if all your training told you to also keep your mind on the mission at hand, you’d still felt that warmth in you.

The intimacy was practical, professional. But it still had its effect as you’d run your fingers across his abdomen to finish securing the bandage. You felt him tremble just for the slightest moment, and then it was over. His shirt was back down and he was standing again.

He’d only muttered a quick “Thank you,” as you’d both headed for the roof to execute his plan.

And still only being teenagers then, the clumsiness of your yelling and waving to attract the villain’s attention again would be something you’d both have been embarrassed about now. But at the time, you’d really both done rather well considering your low experience levels.

That villain of course hadn’t been the only villain that night. The main heroes had had their hands full with the other, stronger one at the heart of downtown. This one had been more like the sidekick really, just trying to keep on the outskirts to run interference and keep even more heroes from joining the fray for his boss.

He’d picked off Shota earlier he thought, so he was easy to get worked up when he realized Aizawa was now back for more.

But that villain had drawn his power from the difference of electrical charges in the air. Obviously then at an even greater advantage over the two of you with the thunderstorm above. But the trick had only been avoiding his electrical blasts, but drawing the light energy from them enough times to eventually surprise him with a big enough blast in return.

There’d been a few miscues of course, as well as you using your shielding to protect Shota all the while trying not to get hit either before you could finally land that big enough return hit to stun the villain. Then Shota binding him up in his scarf like weapon and removing the enemy’s quirk long enough to deliver a decisive knockout kick to the villain’s head.

It was your first ever victory as a team.

—————————————

And it’d been a bit of a whirlwind afterward. The congratulations and acknowledgement from your respective heroes for the small, but positive role you had both played of course. But more personally for you, you had owed so much to one of Shota’s best friends you had met immediately in the hustle and bustle afterward.

Oboro Shirakumo, otherwise known as Loud Cloud had been there immediately, ecstatic to hear the story of Shota’s and your success. His extroverted and effervescent personality such a direct opposite to Aizawa’s quiet nature. But Oboro had been the one seemingly so excited to learn you were from the United States as well.

He’d insisted that he, Shota, and their fellow UA student and other best friend, Hizashi Yamada (codename Present Mic) show you the real young hero life in Japan before you would leave again in the coming weeks.

Without Oboro’s intervention, there was likely no way otherwise you would have gotten to see the shy Aizawa so many times again after that night.

As a group the four of you had gone to malls, out to eat, and to see the touristy sights you likely never would have gone to alone. They didn’t even make fun of your bad Japanese, well not seriously anyway. Hizashi did a few times, but in a way that had you laughing with him as he teasingly walked you through a few pronunciations you’d butchered yet again.

On your last night in Japan, you’d been feeling a little sad really though as you’d wished you had gotten to speak to Shota a little more one on one. Even though he’d accompanied you all on your excursions together in those few weeks, you still had noticed how little he really talked and how often he seemed to always be looking away from you.

In the end you just had to think you were being silly for the way you’d felt in the stairwell with him briefly that night and how often you’d thought of him ever since. You’d probably never see him again you knew.

That night though you’d all gone to a park together that met the beach and ocean. Oboro was insistent that you needed to see the view of the sea there before you flew back to the United States the next morning.

Oboro had made one of his clouds, taking just the two of you up high into the air. As Shota and Hizashi still on the ground grew smaller and smaller, you did look away to the horizon and the starlit ocean beyond. It was beautiful of course.

But what Oboro said next, made you forget all about that view entirely.

“He likes you you know. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.” The blue haired boy said as if it was as simple a truth as saying the sun would come up tomorrow.

Your head turned immediately, just to see Oboro smiling at you in an almost conspiring way. “And you feel the same don’t you?” He asked you. “You look at him the same way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me!” You blurted, stupidly protesting as if your stomach wasn’t already trying to tie itself into a knot.

But Oboro just laughed, that genuine, happy one you’d heard from him so many times already. “Well he knows what to do with his eyes doesn’t he? He has practice. Of course he doesn’t let you catch him staring!”

So many emotions ran through you at once then. Embarrassment at your naivety, sadness that you still had to be leaving the country regardless, shock that this could even be true, and….frustration that you would just be being told now!?

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Oboro. Why would you even tell me this now!?” You asked somewhat desperately, but still keeping your voice down in your escalating panic.

He raised his hands innocently, yet unafraid of you either way. “Hizashi and I have been encouraging him as much as we could to speak up, but Shota is like those stories where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…but in this story both are Shota!”

You stared, the absurdity only mounting at his words.

He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed then. “He’s quite stubborn is what I mean? And he says it’s pointless because you’ll be thousands of miles away. And I said that’s what phones, email, and video calling are for! Of course conversation is not one of his better skills…”

“Oh, man” You sighed, yet trying to think in your nervousness. “Did he send you to tell me all this? Or does he even know we’re having this conversation right now?”

The boy just shook his head. “He didn’t tell me to, and I didn’t ask his permission, no. He would have only told me not to. But sometimes heroes have to do what heroes have to do, right?” A kind look overtook his face again. “I want to see him smile sometime. He actually has a nice smile you know. I think I’ve seen it all of twice,” Oboro joked.

And it was true, it’s not like Shota was cruel or anything. But he didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh. It was like he was always afraid to perhaps. You weren’t really sure yet. You hadn’t known him long enough. But surely Oboro and Hizashi had. You should at least be able to trust that they had made a correct assessment of their friend’s feelings.

“Well…” You hesitated. “If I told him I wanted to stay in contact…do you think he’d actually call or write me?” You looked at Oboro imploringly, unsure if it would hurt more to try this and be rejected later anyway if you still never heard from him again.

“I can only promise you that we’ll try to keep him from screwing up if it’s only his fear that’s holding him back. We all have to overcome fear in one way or another if we’re going to be pros one day.” He smirked then, before looking a little more boastful. “You know, when Shota, Hizashi, and I graduate, we’re going to start our own hero agency. I’m sure by then if you wanted to come and do some more work in Japan, we could make a space for you too. I’d be a bad manager to turn down foreign talent you know.”

He did seem so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’ll talk to Shota. But, whatever happens, thank you for trying to help either way.”

Oboro gave an exaggerated thumbs up with, what honestly you were guessing was his best imitation of an All Might type grin. “Of course! Plus Ultra! Always!”

———————————

It was something how quickly Oboro and Hizashi got themselves out of sight, now just you and Shota on the beach together. Yet you suspected they may still be in earshot somewhere in the distance. No doubt painfully curious of how this would go and silently cheering their best friend on.

At first you were afraid that Shota was angry actually, the way he’d visibly bristled, shooting his friends’ quite unhappy stares before they’d left as he fully realized what was about to happen.

But he didn’t ignore you, nor did he look away from you this time as you got closer to hopefully speak a little more privately. “I’m sorry if this is…weird.” You started awkwardly. “But I don’t think you should be too hard on your friends either. It’s obvious they really care about you.”

Your foot was kind of shifting in the sand. Nervousness still flowing freely as you just kept on. “But I’d still like to hear it from you…if you’re wanting to keep in touch. If you want to get to know me better, I’d like that…so…um-” Ah, this would be awful at any time, but stumbling over words you’d only recently learned made it all the worse. “So is it true, Shota? Do you want to keep talking after I’m back home…maybe I can come back again though…I’d like to see you again…I really would.”

He was silent at first, but he was clearly listening. Intently, as if analyzing your every movement, your every word.

But it was painful how long you had to wait for a response. Surely it wasn’t really as long as it felt though before he finally responded. His voice surprisingly even, almost emotionless?

“You’ll be a successful hero if you keep to your studies and training. I find it unlikely that you wouldn’t be able to start at any agency of your choosing in the United States once you graduate.”

A huge compliment to be sure, as you stared at him in surprise. But what did that have to do with the subject at hand? Was he trying to avoid your questioning entirely?

Yet his eyebrows lowered before you could interrupt as he kept on. “So I don’t understand why you would ever want to come back to Japan longterm where your reputation would have to be built back up again just to get equivalent job offers to what you could attain already in the US. The one instance with capturing the villain at that apartment complex isn’t enough for top placement at the agencies here in Japan. Especially without UA accreditation on your record. You would be putting yourself at a disadvantage to be here. It would be a mistake for your career.”

You could swear you almost heard a groan from somewhere in the distance. If you’d put your goggles on now, you were sure you’d probably see Oboro and Hizashi hanging on every word, wherever they were hiding to eavesdrop in the dark.

But your brain was also quite busy trying to digest the most words you’d ever heard from Shota at one time. Was this his excuse to reject you more lightly? To say he was only thinking of your career?

Of course he was under no obligation to feel anything for you. You knew there were certainly those with more powerful or interesting quirks than your own, or people more physically attractive. You weren’t anything amazing in your own mind compared to all the potential superstars you interacted with on a daily basis back home.

Yet if he didn’t feel how you did, you wanted to hear it outright instead of buried in a confusing way like this, and you couldn’t help but admit so then. “So you think I shouldn’t ever want to date you because it could make me spend too much time in Japan and not become as famous as I could have been otherwise? Nice that you assume working at a top tier agency is the only thing I would care about for my future….”

Perhaps you did come across a little harsher than you intended, but the way his normally tired looking eyes suddenly widened in shock had you realizing you had definitely brought some sort of emotion out of him at last with those words.

“You…wanted to…date me?” He uttered the words as if he never would have expected that combination of syllables to ever leave his mouth.

Well, you never would have been so forward if you didn’t feel he forced your hand with that strange insinuation of saying your personal choices should all be tied to a need for future fame and fortune.

You put one hand on your hip, trying not to sound as dumb as he was making you feel in this moment. “Well, not like tomorrow or anything. We’d need to get to know each other some more of course. But yes, I thought about it a lot these last few weeks. But if you didn’t like me like that, then friends is fine. I was hoping that was what we were going to talk about here. If you…liked me like that or not.”

Oh Lord, was this high school like it should be or was this elementary playground kind of drama? You didn’t have enough experience to be any more adult about this. But it was a yes or no type of question wasn’t it? Either he felt some sort of interest and attraction like you did, or he didn’t. You just needed to know.

“I…think you’re talented. And capable.” He said, like it was taking so much just to do this.

It was maddening somehow though. Could he not just say he felt nothing if that was the case? Was he so afraid of hurting your feelings? But honestly, he didn’t seem the type to ever mince words either. “Shota…” You tried. “You know you don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. All you have to say is that you’re not interested. I’m not some delicate flower.”

Yet, you were starting to feel guilty yourself. Maybe this was all wrong, trying to force him out of his comfort zone too much. You should just take a hint right?

When he still said nothing more, your stomach finally sank as you stepped back from him a little again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to know the truth, so I didn’t have to worry wondering later. If I’m not your type that’s okay. I appreciate you taking the time to try and talk to me like this.”

Oboro must have been wrong. That was all it could be. His friends had seen something that wasn’t there, and then pushed it this far in a sincere, but misguided attempt to help their friend.

But the let down still hurt. In the span of a short time, Oboro had gotten your hopes up and then they’d crashed down again. You’d been able to admit your feelings to Shota, just for it to end up as one sided.

Or so you thought.

You started to walk away, not wanting to be further embarrassed if the disappointment in your face had really started to show.

But you froze as soon as you felt his shockingly quick hand grab around your wrist. The memory of you doing the same to him in the apartment complex flashed through your mind.

“I didn’t say you weren’t my type…not that I’ve had a type before.” He spoke, but not in his usual even tone as you looked back at him.

And that was likely the very first time you’d ever seen a little bit of fear in his expression. He was still holding your wrist tightly, but it was like he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to express whatever it was that he was really thinking.

“Eraser really is that bad at this! Just run with it, (Y/N)!” Hizashi’s voice boomed in the distance even if he was only partially using his quirk. The vibration startling you both as Shota immediately shot a death glare in that direction, his hair levitating as he activated his quirk as if trying to lock on to Present Mic even in the dark.

And you couldn’t help it then, slipping your wrist out of Shota’s grip at his distraction, but just as quickly clasping your hand warmly around his own instead as you used your quirk to absorb some of the ambient starlight. It created a dark spot on the beach between the two of you and the others, just enough that Oboro and Hizashi would no longer be able to see. Though Shota would still be able to see you as you chose to take a risk, leaning in enough to kiss his pale cheek.

His hair fell back down at that very personal touch, the red glow also leaving his eyes as he looked back to you.

But you couldn’t read him then. You weren’t sure at all what would happen.

Yet he was still human wasn’t he? Even as stoic and calculating of a person as you’d ever met, he was still human, and still young then with that touch of recklessness you all had deep down.

And when you felt his lips touch yours not long afterward, it was as clumsy as could be expected for teenagers. But you didn’t care at all as you easily returned the kiss.

You knew immediately then that you would be coming back to Japan as soon as you could. Your goal was still to be a pro hero, but it didn’t really matter where.

A true hero’s spirit came from the heart. And if your heart ended up in Japan…who were you to tell it no?

———————————

(End for now. ❤️ I will likely write more of this pairing, but not sure of how soon. Thank you for reading!)

[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.

[ivachism]

Empathy

She was obviously new. He’d never seen her before, which didn’t necessarily mean this was her first trial, but it may as well have been.

Each generator she touched would short at least once. She unhooked others at the wrong time, she ran either too much or too little, and she healed sloppily.

It was no surprise then that she was the first to die. He felt no remorse. If anything, he was doing her team a favor by getting her out of the way.

It was quite some time before he saw her again, not that it was easy to keep track of time in the void. It could’ve been weeks, it could’ve been years.

The entity conducted this particular trial in Legion’s home turf, an abandoned ski lodge on Mt Ormond. The only familiar thing in this alien realm. The chill seeped through his jacket as wisps of snowflakes flurried around him. The cold was one of the few sensations he felt anymore and he enjoyed it immensely; the way it burned his lungs, made his fingers cramp around his blade, and stung his nose.

He immediately set to work, striding through the arena and looking for any sign of movement.

It wasn’t long before he found the survivors, three of them. They scattered like roaches the moment they saw him and the sight sent him into a frenzy. Picking the weakest survivor out of the bunch, like a lion chooses which antelope to hunt down, he gave chase to a rather muscular man with a mean sneer. The man ran with a heavy plod and he evaded poorly.

In the real world, outside of the fog, Frank wouldn’t have gone head to head with the brawny man. Frank wasn’t stupid- his talents didn’t lie in brutal strength. He was more… specialized in his methods, bloodletting being one of those.

But here, in the Entity’s realm… he was strengthened beyond human limits. Frank knew from experience he could easily heft that man onto his shoulder and chuck him up onto a hook with nary a sweat.

Frank was so, so close. His arm was reared back, ready to plunge deep into the man’s retreating back.

His blade descended

…and he was instantly met with a pallet slamming down on him.

The flash of pain snapped him out of his frenzy and he doubled over, vision flickering as the inhuman rush of adrenaline was cruelly snatched away from him.

That was one thing about the Entity. It gave but took at the same time. At a glance, it would seem it favored its killers, but that wasn’t the case at all. It took great pride in always keeping these sick trials as ‘fair’ as possible.

So if Frank was given an amazing power that doubled his speed? Well, the drawback of when he lost that power was what felt like battery acid sizzling through his bloodstream and eating at his brain. Gaining his bearings, he looked up.

The man was nowhere to be seen, but the elusive fourth survivor had been found. She stood across the fallen pallet, staring at him like a doe in the headlights. In the distance, the brawny man was running far away, leaving her to the full brunt of Frank’s attention.

His anger surged, fueled by his frustration of a lost kill, and he juked to the right. She mimicked the action to the left.

Frank sneered beneath his mask. It was going to be one of those games, was it? Unluckily for her, he fed off the chase and was more than happy to oblige her. Fuck protecting the gens. She was falling to his blade, one way or another. She met his concealed gaze one long moment before turning on her heel and sprinting.

He was momentarily taken aback by her speed but was easily goaded into the chase at the sight of her retreating back.

Her improvement was glaringly apparent and he reluctantly acknowledged that she gave him a run for his money. She evaded him with an innate intuition and skill and distantly he admired her. She had become the backbone of her team, looping him around and around as the rest of the survivors took advantage of his split attention and worked on the generators that would lead to their escape. But she could only hold her own against him for so long as his bloodlust grew by the second, fueling his speed.

He dragged his knife down the length of her back. She crumpled to the ground with a squeal, whimpering softly as he wiped her blood from his knife. He met her gaze from behind his mask. The usual expression of a downed survivor when they looked at him varied. It could be terror, disgust, fury, or a combination of them all. He was intimately familiar with each.

So he was surprised when she simply gazed at him with acceptance, resting her cheek on the frozen ground.

Their breathing echoed one another, both heaving from the exertion of their long chase.

Finally he broke the trance she’d put him in, grabbing the back of her jacket and hefting her onto his shoulder with a grunt.

She echoed his sound, wheezing as his shoulder dug into her stomach.

She reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, bunching the fabric in her pain as he strode towards the nearest hook. Her screech was long and loud as he hefted her onto it and she instinctively tried to curl in on herself. It pierced through her shoulder, the only thing keeping her suspended was her collarbone holding the weight of her entire body.

Frank waited until she calmed down. Once he got another glance of those piercing eyes of hers, he was satisfied.

He continued on his way without looking back. He had survivors to kill. They’d had enough of a head start as it was and they had their dying teammate to thank for that.

-

The rusted hook piercing her body was warm with her blood, the only heat in this chilled hell.

She’d never get used to the pain of being hooked. The only thing that kept her afloat was the knowledge that her friends would come to rescue her eventually. So she grit her teeth, ignored the pain, and held on.

Through some twisted sorcery of the Entity, she was able to see the auras of all of her teammates. It always served as a moment of sweet relief when she would get to see someone rushing to her aid.

Only… no one was coming. One generator, two, three, four dinged with completion, and still no one came for her.

Her hands were beginning to slip on her own blood as the Entity steadily morphed into existence around her.

With a shriek, she just barely caught the descending spider-like leg of the Entity as it tried to pierce through her middle, having to rely solely on the hook to suspend her entire weight.

The agony was almost unbearable as she struggled on the hook and kept her demise away with what little arm strength she had.

It felt like she struggled forever, an eternity of blinding pain.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone’s aura approaching her. David. Her split attention cost her as her arms went slack, the muscles refusing to do anymore. Her screech was cut short when strong hands hoisted her from the hook, just barely evading the piercing legs. She sank to the ground, curling into herself and fighting the tears burning in her eyes.

She thought she’d been abandoned. She looked up with eyes swimming in gratitude. He wasn’t looking at her though, not even moving to heal her. He was looking to his right, panicked, and she followed his gaze. Legion rounded the corner abruptly, knife raised high.

He brought it down on her teammate.

At least, he would’ve, if David hadn’t shoved her forward into the killer’s chest.

He just barely stopped his swing, millimeters from her stunned face. Legs weak, she slithered down his body into a bloody tangle of limbs at his feet, stunned speechless.

In the confusion, David took the opportunity to sprint away, leaving her once more to deal with the killer.

It took a few seconds for her sluggish mind to process what the hell just happened and when she did understand she wished she’d just died on that hook. At least then she wouldn’t be aware of the absolute betrayal she’d just suffered from. Her team was going to allow her to die on the hook. And when David had come to rescue her, it was only to use her as bait to aid in his own escape.

It was enough to make her want to cry. She’d done so much for them. Had given her life so many times to save their own. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, where one person had to make a tough decision between their survival and another’s. But never had it been so blatantly treacherous, the obvious sacrifice to save his own skin glaringly apparent.

David was long gone and she was left alone with the killer.

She waited for the plunging knife of the brutal killer that stood over her, panting with exertion. Legion, she believed his name was. She’d only ever gone against him once, and that was so long ago that she hardly remembered him. That had been her very first trial, if she remembered correctly.

He stared at her for a long moment before leaning over her prone figure. She flinched harshly and he paused in his movement. When she stilled, more out of pain than trust, he continued reaching forward. His bloody hand combed through her hair, grabbing a fistful of strands and not ungently tilting her head so she could meet his gaze.

She couldn’t stop the breathy whimper that escaped her throat, so quiet that she herself barely heard it.

Legion’s head cocked to the side at the sound, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. It was an out-of-body experience to look into the eyes of a killer, just visible through the crude circles of his mask. He slowly knelt, resting his weight on the back of his heels and releasing his hold on her hair, gently setting her limp head back against the ground.

“They left you for dead.”

Her heart stuttered at his voice. She’d never heard a killer talk before, had been half-convinced they were simply mindless servants of the Entity, zombie-like in their mission to kill and incapable of speech. She wondered what he looked like underneath that mask of his. His body was obviously normal from what she could tell. The only thing that distinguished him from a survivor was his mask. Without it, he could easily blend in with the rest of them, sitting amongst them at the campfire. What a scary thought. Surely the entity wouldn’t choose someone so normal looking to be its champion, right?

“Doesn’t that make you angry?” he prodded.

Was it against the ‘rules’ to talk to him? Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. Honestly though, at this point, she couldn’t be bothered to care. She cleared her throat of blood and rasped, “Not angry.” When she was met with dubious silence, she elaborated. “It just makes me… sad. Betrayal hurts. I helped them and they left me. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I don’t…”

He seemed to mull something over, tapping his knife absentmindedly against his knee.

“Never seen anything like it,” he mused.

She didn’t know how to respond so she simply watched him as he seemed to mull something over.

“Alright,” he sighed, getting to his feet laboriously. She groaned when he grabbed ahold of her arms and dragged her across the frozen ground. He leaned her against a brick wall that semi-enclosed the hook she’d almost died on.

When she bonelessly began to slide to the side, he righted her again. She was struck by the carefulness of his hands, in the way he settled her more comfortably against the wall. Her throat tightened with some strange emotion and her eyes watered when he went to the trouble of straightening her rumpled shirt for her and wiping some of the blood splattered on her cheek away with the back of his wrapped hand.

“Stay here,” he said, looking at her with the single-minded focus of a predator.

She slowly nodded despite her confusion. “Alright…”

He twirled a lock of hair around his finger before rumbling, “Good girl.”

And then he vanished, striding away with the sinewy grace of a leopard and leaving her a blushing, heartbroken mess.

-

There was only one generator left. She expected the alarms of the escape doors to rip through the frozen air any second now. But nothing happened. The only thing she could hear was the agonized screams of her teammates, one by one. Since she wasn’t on the hook, she could no longer see their auras. There was nothing left to do but wait and appreciate one of the few maps not shrouded in total darkness. If she concentrated very hard she swore she could feel some muted sunlight touch her numb cheeks.

By now a sizable puddle of blood had formed around her. Her entire face tingled and her vision faded in and out periodically. It wouldn’t be long before she would bleed out- not the worst way to die in a trial, she supposed.

The crunching of approaching footsteps woke her from her daze. It was Legion, crouching over her. He didn’t pause, wrapping his hands around her waist and leaning forward so her torso could fall over his shoulder.

A groan escaped her as he lifted her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, the other against her side. He completely bypassed several hooks.

Her fuzzy mind didn’t even bother to linger on what he intended to do with her, not when his body heat was seeping through their layers of clothing to warm her in this wretched realm.

She began to wrap her arms around his neck, shifting awkwardly on his shoulder to do so. He stiffened and came to an abrupt stop. “You hurt me and I’ll kill you,” he growled.

She nodded against the crook of his neck. “Okay.” She gently tightened her grip around him, in no way harming him or obstructing his breathing. He remained still for one long, indefinite moment, before he resumed his stride. She lightly held him and enjoyed the simple pleasure of human contact. It made her skin tingle pleasantly. She reasoned that this sudden bout of affection was due to her considerable blood loss, though Legion had nothing to excuse why he was indulging her.

They suddenly emerged into a snowy clearing.

It was a massacre.

Blood, guts, the jarring ivory of bone. It littered the clearing in droves. Two lumps were barely recognizable as human bodies, maimed so badly that it was impossible to tell who they were. Steam swirled in the air from the corpses as their wet gore slowly cooled.

But the third was alive, moaning in pain. David.

He was laid out on the ground much like she’d been when he’d left her to die.

Legion suddenly crouched, leaning forward so her weight slid off his shoulder. The entire world darkened as her head spun. As she adjusted, he balanced her like earlier, making sure she didn’t slump into the dirt.

David only just then noticed the two other presences in the clearing.

“The fuck?” he rasped.

That drew her attention, snapping her out of her daze as quickly as if she’d been stabbed. She was painfully aware of the hostility in David’s eyes and she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She should be helping him, right? No matter if he’d done her wrong, she shouldn’t repeat his evil deed. At least, that’s the way she’d been raised. Don’t respond to negativity with negativity.

But, she thought wryly, her parents probably never factored being in an eternal hellish void into the equation. Perhaps there were loopholes to how kindly she should be treating people.

So she allowed herself just the tiniest bit of satisfaction in seeing her traitorous teammates laid out before her like a gory platter. And the main course? David, broken and bleeding before her as she’d been not half an hour earlier.

And the man that put this all together stood over her, tapping his blade against his collarbone absentmindedly.

He suddenly moved, bending over at the waist to come face to face with her, jarringly close.

“What do you think? Did I do good?”

‘This is amazing. Wonderful. The satisfaction I’m feeling is like a drug. You did God’s work, you sweet, sweet angel,’ she thought.

Of course, she couldn’t say any of that. It was bad enough thinking it- admitting it out loud would condone her beyond salvation.

“What the fuck is this?!” David said again, fury tightening his voice. If his body wasn’t broken, she was sure he’d be tensed, ready for a fight. As it was, however, he looked like an animal in its death throes, defiant till the end. “Did you do this? Make a deal with this sick fuck?” He heaved for breath.

She hoped he was as scared as she had been, just as she hoped he felt the same heartbreaking betrayal that her team had inflicted on her.

Legion, tiring of her silence, sighed and straightened. “Of course, I could help him stand up if you want. Let him get away. You can take his spot on the hook,” he said condescendingly.

That jolted her out of her musings and she looked up at him, shocked.

“Hmm? Gonna be a little saint and forgive him?” He began walking towards David, looking back at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t touch me, you sick bastard,” David snarled as Legion stood above him.

He ignored him in favor of staring at her.

“I’ll take that for a yes,” he said to her silence.

But as he reached down to pull David up, her sharp voice echoed in the still air, rushed and ruthless.

“Wait!”

Legion immediately did as asked, straightening back up with a quiet chuckle.

She couldn’t help but feel like she’d just proven herself to him, had passed some sort of test. She shouldn’t be feeling pride from that, but here she was.

“Sorry bud,” Legion crowed jovially. “Looks like you won’t be getting out of this one.”

David snarled, strained to look in her direction. “This is on you, you fucking cunt. You’re killing me.” To Legion, he sneered, “Why you doin’ it, huh? She give good head?”

In a move as fast as a snake striking, Legion flipped David onto his back and stood over him, legs on either side of him. His voice dropped to a low drawl, icier even than Ormond’s snow. “I don’t tolerate cowards.”

“You fucking bitch,” David snarled, maneuvering to glare at her with pure fury. “You’re going to pay for this! Nobody will trust you after this, stupid cunt, not after I tell them-” his voice sputtered into a wheeze when Legion drove his foot into his stomach, leaning his entire weight into it.

“Don’t ignore me,” he hissed. Looking over his shoulder, his voice suddenly brightened into a coo. “Sit back and watch, sweetheart. I’ll make it extra special for you.”

And he did. He tore into David with a brutality she’d never seen before, hadn’t even thought possible. She lost track of the number of times Legion drove his blade into him. The sharp click of his knife scraping bone could be heard even over the sound of David’s screeches.

Legion drove his blade deep into David’s heart, wrapped both hands around the hilt, and threw his entire weight backward to open up his chest cavity.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Legion sat back on David’s thighs and stared up at the sky, shoulders slumping. He looked blissed-out, chest heaving for breath and covered in blood.

That picture would be forever ingrained in her mind.

She wasn’t sure how to feel. She was the reason David was now a steaming pile of mush. It was her fault. But that wasn’t what made her queasy. What made her feel sick to her stomach was the satisfaction she felt during the entire act. She felt… amazing. Justified, avenged, a moment of instant karma that she got to be privy to.

And the person she had to thank was lolling his head to the side to take in her reaction.

Whatever he saw, it made him chuckle. “Glad you liked it.”

She should’ve argued, denied it. Instead, “Thank you,” she whispered, voice heavy with sincerity. “Thank you.”

Legion went still as stone. She wondered how long it had been since he’d been shown even a sliver of gratitude. He’d probably not done much to prompt any of it, of course, but this was different. This went beyond teasing the entity; it was a denial of its very rules set into place. And even if he used the entire situation as an excuse to inflict more brutality than normal, it was still in the name of making a situation right.

It made her want to cry.

Everything briefly went black and when she opened her eyes, Legion was standing over her prone body, head tilted to the side.

“Blood loss,” she murmured, pale as a ghost and becoming paler by the second. She didn’t have much longer.

“Better make this quick then.” His voice was barely audible over the ringing in her ears. “Arms.”

She lifted them obediently and he ducked his head through them, allowing her to wrap them around his neck as he lifted her. She was more than grateful when he held her to his chest instead of hefting her over his shoulder. In this position she could rest her head against him. His bloody clothes didn’t bother her in the slightest, instead serving as a reminder of the deed he’d done for her. And he was so warm. The solid beat of his heart was her own personal lullaby as she timed her breaths with his in perfect synchronicity.

She turned her body into him as much as possible. The saccharine sweetness of human contact made her heart ache.

She was so tired and dizzy that she didn’t bother with tensing in his arms as they approached a hook. He deserved it, she thought, her sacrifice being the only thing she could offer in return for his deeds- no matter how bloody or unasked for they were. She came back to consciousness when he jostled her lightly in his arms. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep.

“Staying with me?”

“Not quite,” she slurred. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a hook. “There’s one,” she said, nodding in its direction. “I don’t have much longer. The entity won’t be as pleased if I die from blood loss rather than being hooked.”

“You’re an eager one, aren’t you? Why would a survivor care about whether the entity is happy with a killer?”

“You’re not just a killer. Not anymore. Not to me.”

He was silent for a long, long time, though he never stopped walking.

“Hey,” she said, moving weakly in his hold. “You passed it.”

“If you really think I’m going to kill you after going through all that effort, you’re going to need to get your head checked, sweetheart.”

If she had the blood to spare, she imagined it would be flooding her cheeks at that moment. What was with him and his little pet names? Very un-killery.

She decided she liked it.

-

“Where’s the fucking hatch…” he hissed under his breath, looking around vainly.

She was becoming dead weight in his arms, head lolling back to dangle over his arms. He shifted her so her head rested once more against his chest, reaching a hand up to hold her head in place. Her hair was soft as silk.

“I swear to god if you die on me…”

She chuckled breathlessly. “That’s an odd thing for a killer to say.”

“I thought I wasn’t just any old killer?”

She smiled. Her lips were blue. “That’s true.”

Her eyelids were beginning to flutter and he felt helpless for the first time in as long as he could remember. The one fucking time he actually decided to let someone live and he couldn’t even do it. Was this the work of the entity enforcing the rules of its little game? That killers and survivors weren’t meant to interact?

“It’s okay,” she murmured as if reading his thoughts. “I don’t mind. You’ve done enough for me.”

He frowned down at her.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked, cradling her limp body closer and ducking his face closer to hers.

She gave it through numb lips and he repeated it.

“You’re Legion, right?”

He chuckled softly. “That’s one of our names.”

“Our?”

Balancing her in one arm, he used the other to lift his mask just enough for her to see his smirk. “Just call me Frank, sweetheart.”

She mirrored his expression, eyes creasing with a heartbreakingly genuine smile.

She died in his arms with one last warm exhale.

-

She woke up once more at the campfire, and he in a different realm of Mt. Ormond.

There was a weightlessness in both of their hearts as the trial disappeared from reality, swept away by the Entity.

It was one of the most pleasant experiences they’ve had ever since arriving in this hellish realm.

She would remember him as her savior, and he would remember her as his second chance at redemption, to be something more than was expected of him.

That damn smile of hers haunted him long into his dreams, just like her skin still tingled pleasantly from his touch, warmth, and rare act of kindness.

[jugjugjuice]

Sukuna NFSW alphabet

🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼

A-Aftercare:

Sorry Sukuna could care less what happens after sex. If your not out his bed in the next 30 min he will...possibly kill you or question you. “Human why are you still here?” The closes thing he will do for aftercare is throw a blanket on your naked body while you sleep🥲✋

B-Body:

Sukuna loves everything about his body. To him every part of him is perfect, sexy, powerful. BUT if he had to choose one part of his body then he will choose his hands. The very same hands he use to kill people and fuck you with.

His favorite body of yours(you probably already know what I’m about to say) is ur booty. He will smack it, lick it, bite it, squeeze it you name it! He loves a nice booty mostly because it’s so....fuckable. He can fuck you while also playing with it. He just loves how it feels. Don’t matter the size.

C-Cum

Sukuna will cum anywhere tbh. His favorite places to cum on would be your face, your ass, stomach, and in your mouth. He loves seeing his mess all over you. You wanna make him rock hard again? Just run his cum all over you, degrading yourself. If you do this this man will actually drool for you😳

D-Dirty secret

Now when it comes to Sukuna he has no shame in the things he has done. All the dirty secrets has he already told you about. Now one thing he hasn’t told you(mostly cause he keeps forgetting to blurt it out) is that he sticked a....vibrator up his pp hole😬(I am so sorry) the vibration inside of him plus the feeling of himself stroking his own cock was overwhelmingly pleasurable. He even use his second mouth(on his tummy) to lick his pp. I guess you can say he is kinda a masochistic but he will NEVER let you dominate him.

E-Experience

Sukuna is very much experienced. Back when was living in his own body he had six with about 90 women....a village. He obviously killed them when he grew bored of them.

F- Favorite portions

since I don’t know the names for these specific positions, I’ll just leave the pictures down here.

(It wouldn’t let me send the link) but these are his go to positions out of all he have in his mind. These are just the positions that feels good to him.

G-Goofy

Sukuna is not goofy during sex. I would say he is serious and a flirt at the same time while doing it. He will mock your voices and laugh at how vulnerable you are.

H-hair

No surprise at all that this man has hair down there. He is very much proud of it. If it gets too wild then he will trim it but he needs hair down there to feel like a man. Of course it will never be to much hair. Medium amount I would say.

I-Intimacy

Sukuna can be either patient or impatient during the beginning of sex. When he is Patient he will foreplay a little bit. He would also kiss you a lot down your body. Touch sensitive spots all to hear you moan and beg for him. Sometimes you would cum from him talking dirty in your ear. When he isn’t patient he would go straight in and just fuck you. You would have to hold on because it gets wild and bumpy.

J-Jack off

Sukuna loves to jackoff. Not because it’s a stress reliever, but because it feels good. If he can’t, for some reason, fuck you he will beat the stick. Even during sex he teases you by jerking off and cumming on your face.

K-Kinks

Sukuna kinda have a thing for pain. While you guys are having sex and you do something that might be a little to rough(fx while giving him a blow job you accidentally bite too hard or ride him too hard) he will get so turned on but he will never tell you that. He also loves to be disrespectful in bed. He would degrade you or spit on you and just cum from that.

L-Location

It don’t matter where you guys do it he will fuck you anywhere. Yes that even means in public. If you guys are at a restaurant he will bend you over the tables and fuck you. Anyone near will have front row seats.

M-Motivation

After a good fight he always feel so energetic or horny so he would just take all that pride out on you. Or if you wear something sexy or something tight that shows off your curves he will tear that outfit to bits. Basically any little thing you do will make him honry. You bite your lip, show a littl Cleavage, rub legs, or even stare at him. He will get turned on. Also if you squirt on him then congratulations he is in love.

N-No

Sukuna is not into coprophilia. If you even mention that to him he will just kill you. He also isn’t into being a bottom, sub, or being pegged No amount of begs will get this man to be your bitch. Oh no honey your HIS bitch!

O-Oral

Sukuna love him some oral. He loves the feeling of your tongue touching and caressing his dick. He loves it more when you choke and gag on his dick. If you feel like your about to throw up his only response is. “That’s fine. You vomit on my dick you cleaning it up pig”. When he says that it’s usually threatening then sexy. He is dead serious.

P-Pace

Sukuna is a and deep thruster. With each thrust it’s deeper and deeper just pounding on that sensitive spot that makes you squirt. He will go slow when your about to cum to tease you. He will probably say, “yea baby you mad I stopped going fast? What if I just pull out and let you cum without my dick being inside you?”

Q-Quickie

I mean Sukuna is down to any kind of sex so he will mostly be down for a quickie. I can see him doing this right before a battle. The adrenaline would just go right to his pp. also if you guys are in public and he gets horny(which is all the time) he would pull you somewhere and either eat you out or you suck him off. If he want to full on have sex then he would do it in front of everyone.

R-Risk

Sukuna is down to any type of risk. As I said the man has no shame so he could give two shits what anyone say or think. The most he has ever done was fuck you DURING battle. Yea it couldn’t wait and you where getting looks.

S-Stamina

Sukuna’s stamina is inhuman. He can go 30 rounds and still be hard and horny. To be quiet honest there was never a time he had sex and felt “finished” he had to stop for your sake because he knew if he kept going he would damage you insides and it would take days for him to even feel about done. There was this one time. A long long time ago he had sex with a woman he and was actually tired but we don’t talk about that. It was long ago and she is dead💀

T-Toys.

Yes. Like I mentioned before when he masterbates he would use toys on himself. Mostly on his dick. He would use toys on you while he fucks you. For example he would put a buttplug in you or stick a vibrator in you while pounding into ur hole mercilessly. What can I say. The mans a sex god

U-Unfair

He can be a bitch at times. Sukuna loves to walk out on you in the middle of sex just to hear your screams and cries. One time while you where about to cum he just pulled out and you cummed without his dick being inside of you. It was so uncomfortable and...sad. He loves messing with you. When he walks out on you during sex he won’t fuck you until tmr. He won’t let you win like that. He also loves to build up your orgasms and leave. Fx everytime you where about to cum he would stop for 3min or until your building orgasm died down and fuck you again. He would do this 10 times before walking out.

V-Volume

Sukuna is more of a groaner then a moaner. I mean there have been many times he had moan because of you, but he mostly groans or dirty talk in your ear. If you give him a blowjob then he will both moan and dirty talk.

W-Wild card

Sukunas bodycount is over 100. Yea he was wild 1000 years ago✋

X-X-Ray

Sukunas size is at least 6 inches when soft and 9-10 inches when hard. He is more in the thicker side as well and has at least 2 big veins.

Y-Yearing

Sukuna have high sex drive. He is always horny 24/7. The smallest thing will make his dick twitch. If you manage to live with him then you will need a wheelchair because he will fuck around with you 3 times a day. Maybe 1 time a day if he is feeling nice.

Z-Zzzzz

Sukuna will fall asleep after sex. He will either fall asleep on you or on the bed. Most times in his sleep he drags your body closer to him. When he wakes up he just stared at you while you sleep. A million and one thought going through his head.

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part II

First | Next | Masterpost

He went straight to Vizima to find Triss, once he’d made his way out of Kaedwen. It wasn’t directly on the way to Oxenfurt, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel he was making an unreasonable digression. Though he was nervous about locating his bard, he needed to know what this Ida person could tell him.

Triss was as welcoming as always, greeting him with a brief press of cheeks and a light embrace. Yennefer had told her of Geralt’s mission, but she was unable to assist him on the first day, busy with treating several commoners who had come down with a sickness. Nothing of a magical nature, but it did detain her for much of the day after Geralt’s arrival. He busied himself in the city, restocking on potion ingredients that he’d run low on over the long winter, dropping his armor off to be reinforced, and picking up a slim cloth bracelet for Jaskier. It was a soft blue color, with silver beads spaced evenly over the surface, and Geralt thought it would please him.

Gods. He was in trouble.

That evening he dined with Triss in her quarters, despite the fact that it was wildly inappropriate. Geralt asked after it, and Triss laughed dismissively.

“That is a delightful sentiment, but no one is questioning my dalliances,” she said with a grin. “They’re too afraid I’ll turn them into toads if they irritate me. And besides, half the Continent believes that you’re courting Yennefer because of the bard’s silly songs, and the other half thinks you’re courting the bard.”

Ah. “Well,” Geralt said, articulately.

Triss smirked at him over her wine. It was exceptionally good, a vintage from Toussaint that was nearly as old as Geralt. Triss’ quarters were fairly large, befitting a court mage, but decorated in a way that made them seem almost cozy. She favored muted colors that turned rich in the light of the candles scattered around the room. There were dozens of tables and shelves crowded with books, herbs and knick knacks that made the space feel distinctly lived in. It was a stark contrast to Yennefer’s lodgings, which were always immaculate and finely organized. The clutter was a refreshing change of pace. “Yennefer told me that you’re trying to make the bard immortal,” Triss said. One of her eyebrows rose, and Geralt wasn’t sure if the look she gave him was impressed or judgemental.

“Not necessarily,” Geralt said defensively. “Just not so, uh.”

“Excessively mortal?”

He hummed. Triss sighed.

“I don’t know of anything to lengthen a human lifespan to that of a witcher’s,” she said. “But the elves have been dealing in things relating to life force for longer than there have been human mages on the Continent. If anyone has any knowledge of what you’re after, it will be the Aen Saevherne.”

Geralt nodded. “Yennefer told me to ask after a woman named Ida. A sage?”

Triss set her goblet down, looking grave. “Ida Emean. An old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps one of the last elven sages alive, though they’re so secretive it’s difficult to tell. She works occasionally with the Brotherhood, when their goals align. But you need to know, Geralt, even if she has an answer for you, this kind of magic comes with a price. Always.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, he’s—”

Triss interrupted him with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand on the table. “I know what he is to you. I want to help. I just want you to be careful.” Geralt wondered when he’d become this transparent to, apparently, half the Continent and every one of his close friends. The sorceresses were probably gossiping behind his back.

“How will you contact her?” Geralt asked, pushing through his embarrassment. He wished saving Jaskier’s fragile human life didn’t involve so many conversations about his unrequited love.

“Megascope,” Triss said, rising. “We’ll need to do it soon, when the moon rises. It will make the connection stronger; I’m not sure where she is.”

Geralt followed her into a room off of the main sitting area, a small space that was almost entirely dominated by Triss’ megascope. He’d seen its like numerous times at Kaer Morhen, where Yennefer had set her own up in the highest tower still standing. The large crystal disks swam with a cool blue light as Triss waved her hand through the air. Three brass arms rose up to hold them at shoulder level, facing inwards to form a triangle. The soft light filled the dark space, throwing Triss’ face into sharp relief before Geralt snapped a finger to light the candles in the room.

Triss stepped up in front of the negative space between the stands, uttering a few words in Elder that Geralt wasn’t familiar with. After a moment the light began to shimmer and twist around itself, slowly solidifying into a human form.

The figure was indistinct, as they usually were in megascope projections, but Geralt could tell that the woman was beautiful. Used to dealing with elves in the south, whose genes had been diluted with human blood over so many centuries, Geralt was taken aback by the sharpness of her features. Her neck was long and elegant, and her hair fell in sheets around her alien features. He was reminded suddenly of his encounter with the elves of the Blue Mountains so many years ago, the inhuman angle of Filavandrel’s cheekbones.

The smoky figure turned towards Triss first, her head dropping in a brief nod. “Triss Merigold. Keidmil.” Ida said in greeting.

Triss nodded in return, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Keidmil, Ida. I apologize for summoning you with so little warning. I have done so as a favor to a friend.” At this Ida’s eyes, empty orbs of swirling blue light in the megascope, fell on Geralt.

“Vatgern,” she said, with the tone of someone who has just discovered something fascinating but slightly repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. “You have friends in high places, wed. What business does a witcher have with me?” Her accent made the words almost musical.

Geralt’s nod of acknowledgement was more of a bow. He wasn’t normally one to show deference to those with power, but this time his heart was pounding in his ears as he leaned forward. If Ida wouldn’t help him, he would be back to square one before he’d even really begun. “Keidmil, Aen Saevherne,” he said as demurely as he could, which probably still came out sounding like gravel. “I was told by Yennefer of Vengerberg that you might have some knowledge on extending human lifespans.”

Ida’s head tilted a tic to the side, clearly intrigued. “Witchers already live near as long as any half-elf on the Continent,” she replied. “There is no spell that could give you the lifespan of a true Aen Seidhe.”

“It isn’t for myself,” Geralt said quickly. “It’s for a human. Someone I… care deeply about.” He ignored the way his face flamed at this admission, no matter how clear it was that Triss obviously knew about his infatuation. He’d barely admitted it aloud to himself, let alone anyone else.

Ida hummed, the sound vibrating through the megascope. “This has precedent. But the spell you seek does not come without cost.”

“Tell me,” Geralt said firmly.

“There has always been conflict between humankind and the Aes Seidhe. Our peoples have crossed gweld an gleidyf many times over the millennia. But there were always times when there was peace, coexistence. In the early days, before the blood of men diluted our own, the Aes Seidhe could live through half a dozen human lifetimes or more. It was taboo to form relationships with humans, and many did not bother. But there were, of course, exceptions.

“It is unclear where the ritual comes from, but the tales say that one of the Aen Saevherne fell in love with a human woman, who then fell gravely ill as she entered her twilight years. The sage, terrified of losing her, bound her lifeforce to his own, effectively extending her life at the cost of some of his own longevity. Over the years the ritual was refined by others. It has fallen out of practice, in this age; many of the Aes Seidhe’s bloodlines are so diluted that they live for no longer than twice a human lifetime. But the ritual remains.”

Geralt swallowed. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I can,” Ida said, her chin raising slightly. “But I do not need to tell you, vatgern, that all such magic comes with consequences. You cannot create those years from nothing; they must be drawn from somewhere. And you will be binding yourself to this human. I cannot say how this ritual will impact someone who is not of elvish blood.”

He could feel Triss turning worried eyes on him. She too knew the price that magic could demand. “Will Ja—the human, could he be harmed?” Geralt asked.

Ida’s head shook back and forth, her hair swaying. “You assume the responsibility of the ritual,” she said. “Is this human worth so much to you?”

“Yes,” Geralt said instantly, surprised by his own lack of hesitation. “Anything.”

Ida looked at him for a moment, as if judging his truthfulness. “Very well,” she finally said. “I will give you the words, but the ritual requires additional pieces. Gaes carraigh, an oathstone, for the vow; ghealachlíon, night’s linseed, for the binding; and ionad, a place of great power or great personal meaning. Once these elements are combined, you bind your hands with the moonflax over the oathstone and speak the incantation. It is straightforward, but your pronunciation and your intent must be exact. Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt repeated. The words were easy, close enough to their modern counterparts that he was certain it would be nearly identical in southern Elder. It was almost too easy, romantic in its simplicity. Ida nodded, satisfied. “And that’s all?” Geralt asked, breathless.

“That is all. There need be no officiant, no further ceremony. You will be bound by Chaos herself.”

“Officiant?” Geralt blinked, confused. “Why would we need an officiant?”

“I have been told that human marriages tend to involve quite a few witnesses,” Ida said, sounding amused. “Ours are a bit more personal.”

“Wait. This is a marriage ritual?” Geralt felt his heart starting to sink down into his stomach.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ida replied. “Now, if that is all you require, I have my own business to attend to.”

“Me grasha, Ida, for taking the time,” Triss piped up again. “If you ever need a favor in return…”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ida said. “Va feil.”

“Va feil,” Triss replied, and the megascoped dimmed and cast the room back into darkness.

Geralt stood in utter stillness for a moment, blinking into the dark. “Fuck,” he burst out. “I have to marry him?”

Triss just laughed.

*

Triss, luckily, knew the locations of most of the components Ida had mentioned, though the last location would be up to Geralt to determine. The first of these, the oathstone, was used frequently enough in larger elven settlements before their people were displaced. She had recommended the ruins of Ban Aine as a likely findspot, and it was situated not too far from Oxenfurt. That was to be his first real stop, to collect Jaskier and convince him of Geralt’s plan.

Hopefully without revealing too much about the exact nature of the ritual, which still made Geralt sweat when he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t help but think of it with a strange mix of giddiness and dread, churning together in a nauseating concoction. Marriage wasn’t something that witchers got to do, ever. Their lives were transient and drawn out, and often ended in violence. Even if any of them had the time to court lovers, it wasn’t the type of life that one would wish on someone they cared for. It could only end one of two ways: the witcher outlived their paramour, or their love was left to grieve them after they were gutted by some beast or strung up by an angry mob.

Even when Geralt had been infatuated with Yennefer he hadn’t truly considered anything like marriage. He had imagined a kind of loose commitment, maybe, but he had always known somewhere deep in his own mind that Yennefer would never stand to be tied down to anyone for long. He had been desperate enough for her love that he’d been willing to settle for anything she could give him.

He had never dared to hope for more, no matter how he might want it. Still, once he had come to understand his own feelings towards Jaskier, he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about it at times. He wondered what things might change between them, if they tied themselves together. Things might stay much the same; Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen most years, and journey with Geralt when he could throughout the rest of the year. He would bring trinkets and books and stories for Ciri, and teach her how to be human, and trade quips with Yennefer and the other wolves when they all gathered. He would still help Geralt clean up after a hunt, help him stitch his skin back together and wash away the grime and curl up at his side when night came. But maybe he would also let Geralt wake him by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s eyelids like he had so often yearned to do. Maybe he would reach out and hold Geralt’s hand as they walked through a new town; maybe he would close the distance kept between them when they lay in tiny rented beds.

Maybe he could be Geralt’s, and no one else’s.

He was successful, most of the time, in keeping these kinds of thoughts at bay. It did a witcher no good to dwell on what could not be.

Now it would be, if only technically, and only if Geralt could convince Jaskier to perform the ritual without giving away its origins. He considered telling Jaskier the full truth of it, of course. It was probable that Jaskier wouldn’t even care. In his mind, they were only friends; it would be easy enough to set aside the implications of the ritual in favor of practicality. It would be ridiculous to turn down the chance at potentially doubling his own lifespan just because hundreds of years ago an ancient ritual was used for romantic unions.

But every time Geralt thought of telling Jaskier, and of hearing him dismiss Geralt’s concerns, he felt something black and dreadful crawl up his throat. Jaskier would think it was silly, the idea that he could ever be married to a witcher. He would laugh, with that sly grin he always got when they were sharing a joke between them—isn’t that funny, the look would say, the idea of you and me.

No. If he said nothing, Jaskier would never have to know, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Geralt would never hold him to any sort of bond that the ritual created between them; he would be happy knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be taken from him by time and old age, at least not yet.

And at least he would have something of Jaskier for himself, even if he’d had to steal it.

[ohblackdiamond]

life and life only (paul/victoria) (pg-13) (part 15 of ?)

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3  | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14

The sweat was collecting on Paul’s palms before he even got to Gene’s room. He wished he had the joint from earlier or even a drink to take the edge off. Instead, he only had Ace’s scale, which he kept fingering in his pocket, the smooth, still vaguely slimy surface no real comfort. He hadn’t thought out what he was going to say at all. He knocked on the door, stomach churning painfully, and there Gene was, letting him in.

“No girls tonight? It’s not even the full moon,” Paul tried to joke, but the look on Gene’s face swallowed any other attempts. Gene looked ill. Nervous. It was jarring. Gene had never really been anything but healthy and cocky in the six years Paul had known him.

“I wasn’t up to it.”

“How come?”

Gene hesitated, and then he gestured for Paul to sit down on the bed. Gene seemed to sink into the chair next to him, swallowed up like a shipwreck in the ocean.

All that over catching Ace in the tub. It might almost be funny if so much wasn’t on the line.

He had never thought about it before. Humans finding out about them. About him. Maybe that was stupid. But as much as the humans had taken from the mer over the centuries, Paul had never heard of anything– anything like a circus sideshow of real mer, or humans actually hunting them down. Mr. Eisen obviously knew what Paul was, and what his wife had once been. Jeanette had known for years and years what Ace was, and it wouldn’t have surprised him much if Ace had told her about him, too. And they had never… never harmed them, or tried to use them. Paul’s pulse quickened.

That was his main fear. His worst fear. Gene had been eager to capitalize on Ace’s wild theory about being an alien. But something real, something truly inhuman… Paul’s guts twisted. No, he couldn’t believe that out of Gene. He couldn’t believe Gene could use Ace’s nature against him. Spill the secret to those magazines. Sell him off, in print if not in reality. Sell them both off, if he told the whole truth. No. No, Gene would never–

“Paul, I saw something I can’t explain. And you’re going to think I’m crazy, but--”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“Yeah, I do.” He was gnawing the inside of his lip. His throat felt sandpaper dry. His fingers trembled slightly as he took Ace’s scale out of his pocket, putting it in Gene’s hand.

Gene stared at the small blue scale like it held the secrets to a number-one single. His finger ran over and over it. He turned it in his palm, examining the underside, shaking his head, relief and wonder seeming to flood his face. It was a moment before he spoke again, excitement and disbelief paired in his tone.

“Did you know the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“You… you said he used to live near you when you were a kid.”

“W-well, near is kind of relative, obviously.” It wasn’t a lie. The Leonard Richards was easily about fifteen miles from the Lord Stanley. “We met when we were kids. I only ever saw him a handful of times.”

“Was he like that when you saw him?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know back then he could turn into a human being?”

“They all can.”

“Are there a lot of them?”

He was bristling a little despite himself. Them. Something else, something other. Something less.

“They have a name. They’re called mer. There’s only a couple thousand left around New York. They keep getting pushed further and further out.”

“Have they always lived there? Where did they come from?” Gene hesitated, and then he asked, “Does this mean Ace is really an alien after all?”

“T-they came from… I don’t know, okay?”

“You never asked him?” Gene’s brow furrowed. “Paul, you’re telling me there’s a whole civilization that nobody even knows about–”

“Nobody needs to know about it!” His own insistence surprised him. Six years he’d been out of the water now. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, defensive over a people he was four years from not being a part of at all. A people he’d always been separate from, because he wasn’t like them, because he couldn’t hear well. But they were his. They were what he knew best, even now. “You can’t tell anybody, all right? You or Big John, either. There… just let them alone, okay? Let-- let m-- let Ace…”

Gene was quiet for a minute. He put the scale into his own pocket, then stood up, crossing to where Paul sat on the bed, resting a hand briefly on Paul’s shoulder.

“That’s what you grew up around, isn’t it?”

“I–”

“Mermaids under the sea. No wonder you were always so starry-eyed. No wonder everything was always new to you. You’re lucky, Paul.” Gene smiled. His eyes were soft. “I would’ve given my right arm as a kid to see something really magical like that.”

“Gene--”

“I won’t tell anyone. You’ve kept his secret your whole life. The least I can do is keep it, too.”

--

The tour continued. The next morning, Gene and Big John had a story cooked up about saving Ace from drowning in the tub the night before, and Ace played along, clearly resentful, clearly annoyed. Ace looked like he wanted to really confront Paul for a day or two after, for only owning up to half the truth, but he didn’t. Instead he just pulled away. They had never been as close as they should have been, anyway, given their shared heritage. But Paul still regretted it.

One night, immediately after a show, Big John grabbed him from backstage unexpectedly. He hadn’t even made it to the dressing room yet. Not even time enough to sit down and peel his boots off.

“Got a girl for you, Paul.”

Incredible how even that was getting tiresome.

“Tell her to wait at the hotel like everybody else. You know that.”

“No, this one’s different. She’s got a kid there with her.”

His bandmates had been just behind him backstage, and had stopped when Big John had grabbed Paul. Peter laughed.

“Christ, Paul, you got a little tour baby.”

“No. This one says she’s his sister.”

“Paul ain’t got a sister,” Peter retorted smoothly. Gene jerked his head.

“What’d she say her name was?”

“Julia.”

--

The bodyguards had brought Julia to a claustrophobic room adjacent to their dressing room, one he’d poked his head in before the show. Nothing in there but some storage boxes. Nowhere, even, to sit. It was obvious that Big John had wanted to give her as blatant a brush off as he could.

“I would’ve kicked her out,” Big John said, almost apologetically. “But she looks just like you. And she’s got the kid.”

Of course she did.

“You don’t have to come in with me, Big John.”

“Hey, you haven’t even seen her yet. I could be wrong, she could be some crazy outta the nut ward.”

“No. I know it’s her. I’ll talk to her alone, I’m not worried.”

But he was. He thought he heard Ace mumble something to John from behind him as he opened the door, and closed it right behind him. Face to face with storage boxes, grimy ceiling tiles, and Julia, looking up, high up, at him.

Six years since he’d seen her. She didn’t look as different as he’d expected. Just a little more tired. He had never thought they looked too much alike, growing up, but staring at her now, he realized they did. Her face was thinner than his, nose less pronounced, but they had the same high cheekbones. Same slightly swarthy features. Her dark brown hair hung past her shoulders– she’d tried to straighten out the curls and only half-succeeded. She was wearing a faded green raglan shirt and jeans. A little girl in ratty overalls was holding her hand.

A little girl that looked an awful lot like her. Same dark hair and dark, downturned, slightly sad eyes. Julia let go of her hand, urging her forward.

“Say hi to your Uncle Stan, Erica.”

“Hi, Uncle Stan!”

A wave of one chubby hand. Paul stared, disbelieving. Julia’s baby. His niece. The would-be merbaby he’d expected, all those stupid, simple years ago, to help raise. Teach how to garden, how to set traps, how to barter for meat. Here she was, six years old and grinning up at him in Velcro shoes and messy pigtails.

He had barely thought of her since those days at the Eisens. Looking at her now made guilt scour the back of his throat. She was clean, sure, and she didn’t look underfed. But she wasn’t dressed the way Cher’s kid was, or even like the kids that had started to come to their shows. Erica-- Erica, like air, that must’ve been why Julia chose the name-- Erica’s clothes were faded, the overalls oversized and cuffed at the legs. Her shoes were scruffy. Standing there in front of that little girl, in a stage costume that had cost thousands, he felt like scum.

“You didn’t need to bring her.”

“I didn’t have a baby-sitter.” Julia paused. “Besides, she likes your albums.”

“You look scary,” Erica piped up. “Are you scary, Uncle Stan? Mama says you–”

“I’m very scary.” He swallowed. “Julia, look, backstage isn’t a place for a little kid.”

“Don’t pull that with me, Stan. It looks like it’s been good enough for you.” Her lip curled. “A lot of things have been good enough for you.”

“How did you find me?”

“You think I can’t recognize my own brother on a magazine cover?” She snorted. “Even with that crap all over your face. I’m not that surprised with you. You did exactly what that girl tried to.”

That girl. Victoria. Despite all that time, something in Paul still chafed at the dismissive, irritable tinge to Julia’s words. He wanted to argue with her. Like he was eighteen again, defending the girl he was courting. Like he’d really courted anyone at all in that wholehearted, warm way since. He didn’t have that singlemindedness anymore. Didn’t have that kind of goodness.

His hand went to his cheek unconsciously, rubbing at the half-melted makeup there. Erica’s stare on him, cautious and curious, was worse than Julia’s dark, hateful gaze, for all its familiarity. Someone knocked on the door, startling him. He called out, but didn’t open the door.

“John, it’s really okay–”

“It’s just me.” Ace. “Julia in there? Lemme say hi.”

Despite his better judgment, Paul opened the door. Ace was still in costume, of course, a beer can in one hand and a pair of drumsticks under his arm.

“You never looked happy to see anybody,” Ace said, immediately reaching with his free hand to twine his fingers with Julia’s. “You remember me? From the Leonard Rich–”

“I remember you, Paul.”

“Family reunion.” Ace grinned, and crouched down in front of Erica, holding out the drumsticks. “These are for you. They got real Catman sweat on ’em. Very rare.”

Erica glanced from Ace to Paul to Julia, who nodded slowly. Then she snatched the sticks like they were about to be taken away from her.

“Thank you, Mister--”

“Ace is fine. Do you wanna take a look at all our costumes? C’mon, let’s see the wardrobe girls, they’ll show you everything. If your Ma says it’s okay. It’s okay, yeah, Julia?”

Julia looked like she was about to argue, before Erica burst into a litany of begging.

“Can I, Mama? Please? I wanna see! Oh, please--”

Julia cast a withering look at Ace and Paul both, before nodding again.

“Fifteen minutes, Paul.”

Ace winked and gave her a salute before walking out the door, hand in hand with Erica. It took a few seconds before Paul could steel himself up for a question.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what I want for her.” Julia’s mouth was set in a tight line.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want her to grow up like we did, Stan.” Every word sharp as glass. “I didn’t want her coming ashore with– with nothing. No education. Barely able to read and write. I didn’t want that for her. But I didn’t want this for her, either.” She took a breath. “We’re living with my girlfriend right now. Erica just started school.”

Julia was looking at him like she was daring him to react more. It was mostly because of that that he didn’t. It felt bad. Sean and Bill being gay was one thing. Ace fooling around with men sometimes was fine, too. But it felt starker when it was his own sister. Too familiar.

(i don’t get mated off because of you)

“That’s good, right?”

“Erica’s smarter than we are. She’s just never going to have the opportunities. Not where she is now.” Julia’s head was held high, eyes straight on his. Despite having over a foot of height on her now, half thanks to the heels, he felt, suddenly, like he always had in front of her. On edge and wary. Out of sorts. Almost a little scared. “I don’t deserve any better than this. But she does. You’re going to give it to her.”

“What do you want, Julia? An apartment? I-I’ll talk to my accountant, maybe-- “”

“I want her in a good private school.” Her expression made it obvious she hadn’t even thought to ask for an apartment. Maybe she didn’t realize how wealthy he’d become over the last few years. Or maybe, more horribly, she didn’t think he’d give it to her. “A-and a stipend for her until she’s of age.”

He nodded slowly. She kept going as if expecting him to protest.

“I took care of you for eighteen years. You can help take care of her for twelve. Y-you said you would-- you said you’d pay me back for everything--”

“Julia--”

“She gets what I lost out on, all right? You owe it to me, you--”

“Julia, I’ll do it.”

Julia blinked up at him. Her dark brown eyes were a little wet.

He realized, suddenly, that it had shamed her to come here. To demand all that of him was to admit that she couldn’t provide for Erica herself. His insides seemed to squelch, throat tight.

“I’ll talk to my accountant and get everything set up. And… and I’ll get you in touch with the Eisens. They’re the ones I stayed with. Here, just…”

He reached for her and he hardly knew why. They had never touched much. She had always granted him more space than he had ever wanted. More isolation. Her hand felt strange out of the water, twined in his in the mer greeting. He didn’t want it to be this way. A greeting like they were friends, instead of brother and sister. He wanted it to be better. He wanted--  

(i’m sick of it)

(i’m sick of you)

She pulled away like always, and the old emptiness inside him dug itself a little deeper into his soul.

[nukacoola]

Companions react to Danse stepping out of power armor for the first time!

Cait: 

She would look Danse up and down very obviously and grin which would make him extremely uncomfortable. 

“Ya’outgha get out of that thing more often Dansey. Who knew there were cookies in that tin can of yours.”

She obviously isn’t actually interested in Danse. Way too boring. But she’s not one to toss out eye candy just cause it isn’t her favorite flavor. She wouldn’t actively follow him but for fun and also to get on his nerves she would definitely cat-call him everytime he was in hearing range. Deacon and Hancock might join in for a few comments if they don’t have anything better to do.

She would not stop unless sole made a convincing plea or reason for why she should and maybe not even then.

Danse would not respond or look at Cait but he would be very red and never get out of his suit in front of her again.

Codsworth: 

“Why Paladin Danse I dare say you’ve been keeping up your workout routine! Cheers to your excellent health whether in or out of your power armor!” Codsworth is reassured that his owner is traveling with someone so equipped for the struggles of the wasteland.

“Uh, thank you, Codsworth.” Danse would feel a bit awkward but he would appreciate the compliment. 

“Might I polish that for you while you're otherwise engaged? It seems to be in a just dreadful state and I would like nothing more than for you to be looking your best in your wasteland escapades!” Though he is reassured by Danse’s physical state and abilities, he is mortified by the state his armor is in. All the scratches, dings, and dirt? It’s just horrible. Codsworth has always wanted an opportunity to fix that suit up and is pretty happy that the day has finally arrived.

“I- If you’d like to you can.”

“Oh good! I do so love a difficult task!” With that Codsworth would zoom away to procure the necessary supplies to return Danse’s armor to it’s original state. Danse didn’t really know whether or not he should be offended at the robot’s comments but he decided to just continue about his business and not think about it too much. 

Curie:

“Oh Monsieur Danse, you are quite zee lovely specimen! I would be eager to do a physical examination if you would allow me to.” Ever since leaving the vault, Curie has been astounded at how many different sorts of humans there are. Danse is particularly interesting to her because of the amazing athletic feats he does so regularly. She is also interested in studying the effects of constant power armor usage on the human body. When she sees him step out of his suit for the first time and sees his overly muscular physique, it just tacks on another reason she wants to study him. 

Before Blind Betrayal:

“The only specimen that needs examining is you, synth. Don’t talk to me unless you’re submitting yourself to the Brotherhood.” The only reason Curie isn’t already on the Prydwen is because Sole thinks it’s their friend. It bothers Danse immensely that Sole hasn’t destroyed or used this inhuman thing already.

(Don’t get mad at me he literally says this in game.)

Curie is very hurt, she expected this reaction but it still hurt. She was still getting used to feelings such as the pained ones she felt in moments like these.

After Blind Betrayal:

“No. Thank you.” Danse’s words were strained. Being around Curie was pretty awful for him. He had treated her so terribly before and he still had strong feelings of disgust towards her despite what he knows now. Everytime he sees her and has those feelings of hate and disgust, he remembers that he and Curie are the same. He’s still struggling to overcome the years of propaganda that were drilled into him. 

Curie is disappointed. Did Danse not see they are the same? If he didn’t believe in her humanity then he would have to not believe in his own. It is very confusing for Curie. She hopes that he will eventually go back on his denial of her offer. He would be a very interesting specimen.

Deacon:

He would be surprised that Danse would be able to wear that clunky thing so much in the first place. He wouldn’t be surprised at how muscular he is under the suit though. It takes a lot of strength to operate those suits. He’d read that before they were fully developed, a lot of trial runs had resulted in really terrible accidents. The kind of accidents that crush all of your bones at once or remove your top half from your bottom.

Deacon would definitely make a few jokes. “Hey the sardine’s outta the can!” “Isn’t getting out of that bulldozer against Brotherhood policy or something?” “And I thought it was glued on! Learn something new everyday.”

Danse would scowl at his comments but say nothing. He did not like Deacon one bit. That man’s hiding something and if it turns out what he’s hiding will harm Sole or the Brotherhood’s mission, there was gonna be hell to pay. Danse could’ve sworn he’d seen him on the Prydwen a few times but whenever he looked back again to check, he was gone. Danse didn’t much like the idea of leaving his power armor alone with Deacon around but Sole assured him he’s harmless. We’ll see...

Whenever Danse returned to his suit Deacon would stand suspiciously close to it and act like he was trying to play cool after almost being caught doing something nefarious. He would never get tired of watching Danse carefully inspect every part of the armor before apprehensively getting in. Man that guy’s fun to mess with.

Dogmeat: 

He was so surprised! He thought this human was just made of metal! But now Dogmeat can play and jump and lick! Yes!!

Danse has no idea how to deal with a dog he wasn’t allowed to kick so he would just try to awkwardly push the pup off until Sole took care of it.

Hancock: 

Oh HELL YES! Hancock has wanted to punch this fucker since he first laid eyes on him. “HEY SOLDIER BOY, TIME TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO OUT OF YOUR DAMN COWARD COFFIN!” He would make a beeline towards the paladin and the paladin would speed walk towards the ghoul as well. Sole barely let him insult the damn freak but this was a direct attack of which he was most definitely gonna defend himself from.

Sole would freak out a bit and try to get in between the two. They would both try to get Sole out of the way so they could pummel each other. A brief alliance in order to facilitate their battle. This was too sweet of an opportunity to miss. 

“Sorry Sunshine, this is happening.”

“Sole, it has directly started an altercation with me and I intend to see it through.”

If they both had a great relationship with Sole after a bit of panicked begging to both parties, the men would begrudgingly back off. They would, however, insult each other viciously despite Sole’s protests. 

“You have no fucking idea how lucky you are meathead. I swear to god if they weren’t here…”

“You call me a meathead but you’re the one who’s rotting, ghoul.”

They would continue to jab each other until Sole dragged Danse off to do what he got out of his suit to do in the first place. 

If one or both of them didn’t have a close relationship with Sole, well, it wouldn’t be pretty. They would forcibly move Sole out of the way and fight for a while. Though Danse is much bigger than Hancock, Hancock is quicker and better at hand to hand. Danse, being unused to fighting outside of his armor, was ultimately unable to beat the ghoul. Hancock landed one final blow to his face, knocking Danse flat. When he stayed down Hancock laughed loudly and spit at him.

“Done in by the best, lucky you.” It would be a huge blow to Danse’s ego and he’d resent Hancock even more now. Hancock would gloat constantly when Danse was around. “Heyyy, there’s my favorite punching bag!” “Come on over Dansey I won’t bite!” He wouldn’t out of shame, but if Danse ever did try to retort, Hancock would just taunt him. Saying something like “Oh yeah? Ya know my favorite way to settle conflicts is by beating the other asshole into the dirt. Hop outta that suit and we can go for round two.”

MacCready:

Mac’s always thought of Danse as an annoying asshole. He still thinks of him this way but when he stepped out of that armor for the first time. Ho lee sh-crap. MacCready might have to look into joining the Brotherhood if the rest of those guys looked the same as Danse. He had expected him to be strong cause of the whole carrying 500 pounds of steel everywhere but his body was something Mac was not expecting and something he could look at for a while. 

If Danse came near the merc he would probably clam up and blush a bit. If Danse caught him staring, he would annoyedly ask, “Is there a problem, civilian?”

“I- uh no.” any other day he would’ve fired back some snide remark but he couldn’t quite seem to think of one right now. 

Nick:

Nick really couldn’t give less of a damn. He hated Danse, Danse hated him, and the two did their best to ignore each other. 

Piper: Piper didn’t really care either. Sure he was muscular but she was very turned off by the everything else about him. All she really payed attention to was the possibility of an exclusive interview or an inside look at the Brotherhood’s workings. Danse would never agree to either of those though. Preston: Preston didn’t care. He already knew you had to be strong to wear power armor especially if you wore them as much as Brotherhood Paladins did. He didn’t like the Brotherhood and by extension, he didn’t trust Danse. Preston was mannerly of course, for Sole, but he knows Danse thinks very little of the Minutemen so he didn’t try too hard to be kind. Strong: Strong thinks this is good time to smash strong human. He has killed many brothers but he wears metal suit. He is weak without metal suit. Human friend tells Strong that if Strong smash, Strong will not find milk of human kindness. Strong angry, Strong want to smash, but Strong not smash.

Danse would never get out of his suit near Strong unless he absolutely had to. Sole insisted that the abomination wasn’t going to be a problem but he didn’t believe it for a second. It took all of his willpower to not open fire on the thing whenever he saw it. Sole has poor taste in companions...

X6:

X6 wouldn’t care. He would consider taking this opportunity to get rid of the high ranking Brotherhood soldier, but it would make Sole upset and would do relatively little to the Brotherhood as a whole. 

Ask and ye shall recieve! I decide the winner on Hancock’s one by their special stats. How the hell does Hancock have such good stats and he’s still terrible in a fight??

[watchinglikeafangirl]

I'm sick of the BL industry

To be honest, yesterday, I was very close to stop watching BLs - or I should say Thai BLs - because I lost hope things will take a good turn. It was just a thought I had for a second and it may not seem like an important decision that would change my life. It wouldn't affect me much to return to Netflix but it wouldn't mean anything better. The Thai BL industry has the same problems as Hollywood, so why bother what to consume, right?

And it's not like every BL is problematic behind the scenes and it's the same with Hollywood. To be real here, I only watch Thai BLs because I like the language, food and culture in general. And because it's about love no matter the gender in a very romantic and innocent way. I spend years with American shows and watching something from Southeast Asia is very different. I can't name the difference, but it's huge.

But the Thai BL industry has a bit of an image problem going on right now and I'm very curious how things will turn out and if shows like "call it what you want" or "lovely writer" can actually start a debate about abuse and binding contracts because they are immense problems, I'm gonna talk about here.

Casting

It all starts with the casting. Mostly, actors are being casted who are already famous on social media and I get the strategy. The company can generate more fame and popularity of the show but isn't it enough to cast one famous person and that's it? I don't know anything about BL actors to be honest, so I can't say if they were that famous before or not but even if they weren't, then they are mostly casted for a supporting role and are not the protagonist or his love interest. Mostly, I know the actors from somewhere else and it's sad and unfair for the other actors who don't even stand a chance to get the main role. If you are not famous, you won't get there, and that's clearly inequal.

Binding contracts

So, these people get casted and are now part of the crew. The next problem is the contract they have to sign. I have never seen one of those, so I can't say anything credible about it, but what I can figure out is: the contracts must be very long and detailed. The contracts are the real problem here because they put up boundaries and build lines that shouldn't be crossed that are unnecessary and even though the actors can hide it, something seems off. My favourite example is Saint because he seems nice and all but I always have the feeling he fakes everything and I can't tell were his true self begins and his professional one ends. I find it kind of creepy because I can't figure him out and feel like he's broken or at least, hates his job sometimes. I don't know. These contracts lead actors to fake their whole life, lose their identity and turn them into a**holes. It really makes me sad because these people are obviously scared of saying something wrong because then they would be over. What kind of working atmosphere is that? It's not healthy - that's clear - and the actors are always very distant with each other. It's obvious the things they say, do and laugh about are only said, done and funny when the camera is rolling and it's something I really don't like. I deteste fakery and that's why I don't like certain BL casts because I feel like they are pretending so much they don't like each other off camera at all.

Certain people have too much power

People in high positions definetely have too much power over the actors, directors and the whole crew itself. It's not only the binding contracts. What the trailer of "call it what you want" already addressed was way more than that. They are controlled and surpressed. Simply put, the companies and CEO's don't always see them as humans with a soul. It's really extreme and I know, it's not like that with every BL but I also know, it's the case with enough of them. Tracking your phone, getting you fired if you save the wrong number and keeping you apart from the outside are just the three things mentioned in the trailer.

Of course, there's also the problem with sexual harrasment and it's not only a problem, it's a challenge a whole generation has to face. After watching the video "BL: Broken Fantasy" I felt really stupid because someone who was interviewed was saying the BL industry is acting the same as Hollywood, and of course it does but I never saw it this way. Now I feel stupid for being blinded by all the promotion, shiny music videos and happy interviews because in the end it's also just a film industry, so why would things be different behind closed doors? Then of course, sexual harrasment happens a lot and even abuse. I'm even more mad now that I think about all the BL actors who also never spoke up. There must me billions of people worldwide... anyway, turning back, I just wanted to say that CEO's of production companies in Thailand can be as pathetic as the ones in America and sexual abuse is still a thing no one talks about.

Atmosphere on set

As a BL actor, you go to the casting because you personally have no problem with kissing another man. What still surprises me is actors saying they were not as open-minded when they started filming but understand the conflict much better now after they were acting it out and can even imagine falling for someone with the same gender. I thought every one of them doesn't care, but I guess they do.

What really disgusted me in the video "BL: Broken Fantasy" was when this director was talking about the camera man turning away to vomit when the BL leads would kiss. I have no words for how disgusting, inhumane and respectless this is. He even said, the whole crew tends to be homophobic which is like what the f**k?! And he added, he was surprised when he was shooting a film with a japanese crew that offended no one which is so low standard, it's sad. No wonder the atmosphere between the actors and crew behind the scenes looks tense and not that close.

Fanservice

So, here's the problem I've been thinking about for some time now because it's the most viewable one and appears everywhere. I hate fanservice. I just want a normal boring interview with the actors and I'm happy but I stopped watching interviews with BL leads because it's packed with so much wannabe-cutesy fanservice, it's actually uncomfortable. What I don't like about it is that it looks so forced and fake. You can tell just by watching they are only doing it because the contracts say so. They gain money - and I don't believe it's just a bit - to make the fans happy. It's just a part of the promotion but it leads to many problematic situations with fans. I'm not saying Hollywood is much different. During the red carpet shows are so many screaming, crying and fading fans, it's ridicolous. I'm not such a fan and will never be because I don't sympathize with this kind of cult. But at least I feel like Hollywood kind of protects their stars more. In the BL industry the fans can get very close and the promotion is more about the shipping couple than the show itself which causes these big personality cults I already addressed here.

I have two examples: MaxTul and SaintZee. They are not so different when it comes to fanservice but their chemistries are not comparable. MaxTul seem to care about each other whereas SaintZee don't seem to be very close. MaxTul have fun and much of it is fanservice which gets cut into cringey edits on YT but they have a vibe. They look each other in the eyes and know what the other thinks - at least, I have the feeling they do. Their whole friendship looks honest and healthy. In contrast, SaintZee were pretending a lot. It's pretty clear, it was all for the fanservice. They touched so much, it hurt because they wanted to please the production company and follow their contract and out of fear to do something wrong, they overdid it. And then, they had a fallout which wasn't very surprising, because I believe the atmosphere between them was very tense and all that touching was too much.

End

In conclusion, I hope things will change but it's such a long process, it's gonna take years. Now the BL industry doesn't look very bright in my eyes and it's gonna take a while to convince me otherwise. So, I decided for myself that I can consume the shows but won't care about the promotion any more.

I was too close to quit watching yesterday to just ignore it. I got mad again while writing this so I'm just gonna say, I will definetely watch "lovely writer" and "call it what you want" until the end because I wanna know more about this. I wanna know more about what happens behind the scenes.

Anyway, I hope I haven't turned your mood down 🙃

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 1 (Supernatural AU)

Request: Can I get some vampire Komaeda x reader? I loved the Kokichi one and Komaeda is my absolute fave :3 thanks <3

This will be a full series with multiple chapters, not a head-canon or short imagine. Nagito is my favorite Danganronpa character, even ahead of Kokichi.

Part 2 here

Also this will be set in the DR3 anime universe, when they are all just Ultimates at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy

- Admin Kokichi

     “When are they coming out?!” You could hear a girl roar from the crowd before you. It was your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and already you could tell that at least some of the crazy rumors about the school’s eccentricities were true. You’d only been walking around campus, getting your bearings before you moved into the Main Course dorms later that evening.

     It was a bit odd to see a group of nearly a dozen girls from the Reserve Course waiting at the entrance to the Main Course building, waiting to watch some of the Ultimates walk to the cafeteria. I mean, being an Ultimate didn’t make one worth fan-girling over, right? But maybe you’d have seen their side of it if you weren’t an Ultimate yourself.

~

     Jin Kirigiri, the school’s headmaster, was a very close childhood friend of your father’s, as was the school’s recruiter, Koichi Kizakura. It was only natural that they both insisted you go there, especially with your talent. You were the Ultimate Hunter... or... that’s what your official transcripts said anyway. Your real talent was a little more… complicated to explain to a normal society.

     Your real and extended title was that of the Ultimate Monster Hunter, just like your father before you decades ago. That was your passion, your focus, but since you were also prodigious in the normal hunting of animals, that was the title Headmaster Kirigiri assigned you. Of course, Kizakura and Kirigiri knew of your family’s hunter lineage and the existence of supernatural beings, most of the higher-ups at Hopes Peak did, what with all the connections and respect the academy had garnered.

     Most governments, large corporations and upper-class citizens were privy to the existence of monsters, and those sworn to protect all humans from them, so of course Kirigiri knew of such things, however, he couldn’t exactly have you honing your skills in his classrooms and training yards. The general public would either think he’d gone mad for allowing such activities - training to kill beings that did not exist - or worse, they’d wise up and take notice, revealing the secret of supernatural creatures to the world.

     No, no, that couldn’t be allowed to happen, and so Kizakura and Kirigiri had you practicing your crossbow aim on animal-shaped dummies, had you doing general agility and reflex training. Your firearms were used in a high-tech shooting arena that doubled as a dojo when martial arts students arrived for their allotted lesson time.

     Honestly, you didn’t even want to attend Hope’s Peak, seeing as Headmaster Kirigiri had made it very clear that you couldn’t use any of your true talent anywhere on campus or even while in uniform off-campus. You also had to hide your face with a helmet or mask of some type while hunting from now on. You couldn’t be associated with or traced back to the academy in any way, should someone see you engaged with a monster and spread word of it before being apprehended by law enforcement. This rule was only made more severe by the fact that some of your fellow students were of the very species you made a living annihilating.

     That’s right, Hope’s Peak itself was host to the very rare vampire, werewolf, demon, shapeshifter or other manner of beast. Not all of them chose to be hostile or stuck out like a sore thumb, and hey, if you had the talent, you had the talent. It made you question why you should even give the academy a second thought. It felt like they were mocking you, letting inhuman creatures attend a school they personally invited you to, but your father all but forced you to enroll. He insisted it would be the best for your future, and that there’s no one he trusted more than Kirigiri and Kizakura.

     “But if anything… anything at all happens to (Y/N), Jin, I swear on our friendship, I will handle it myself,” he’d said. Your father’s words rung through your mind like a constant reminder. He meant it, too. Your father was the hunter of all hunters, a king of sorts in his circle. Kirigiri knew very well that letting him down was not an option.

~ 

     You stood on the very edge of the group, as far from the doors as possible but still near enough to the others that you wouldn’t look like some weird loner. You sighed, chuckling under your breath at their chittering. It was all so silly.

     “Here they come!” You were startled out of your trance when one out of the whole gaggle of girls before you squealed loudly. You walked toward the front of their group, fascinated by how excited they all were. You were merely curious to see what all the fuss was about. How could they possibly be this worked up about other students their age, just walking to lunch after class? Then again, you hadn’t met any of your fellow Ultimates. Was there some kind of beauty requirement to become one? Huh, wouldn’t surprise me, you thought rather cynically to yourself. This place loves to flaunt its students and reputation.

     “Look~ it’s Fuyuhiko!” One of the girls pushed roughly past you, grazing your shoulder. You could practically see hearts in her eyes as she passed.

     “Jeez, okay...” you muttered sheepishly and leaned back again. You may be a monster killer, but that only worked out because of the adrenaline rush and the lack of attachment and value placed on your targets. In normal life and social situations, it felt like you were the one being killed.

     Great! Now I can’t see anything! You mentally snapped at the fan-girls bumping and shuffling into you with every sporadic movement they made. You couldn't see anything, but you could certainly hear the girls get louder and louder by the second. You were now completely pushed to the side of the group as the girls grunted and hissed like rabid animals.

     “And that’s the lucky one! Komaeda, I think! Man, he’s so hot…” A random brunette drooled. 

Nagito Komaeda: Vampire

Status: Protected/Neutral

Classification: B

Unique Talents and Powers: A cycle of good and bad luck. All other unique traits under review.

Age: Unknown

Coven or Clan: None

     You mechanically recalled little bits and details from your dad’s casework and journals on the most famous vampires in the country. Nagito... yes… you were going to stay away from this one.

     The supernatural beings that could pass as human and were deemed not to be a danger to society signed contracts and treaties that allowed them to live out their lives like normal and protected them legally from hunters (much to your kind’s chagrin). They had strict rules to follow, however, and those who broke said rules were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and taken off the protection list, making them fair game to hunters. 

     You really didn’t understand why they kept giving the feral savages chances. Erasing the memories of witnesses, victims (if they survived), and their families after each attack or incident was costly and just unfair to mankind.

     The girls continued to shout and vie for the boys’ attention. Fuyuhiko huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the fuss they were making. This only served to rile them up further, however. It seemed the tough, flippant, bad-boy yakuza persona is exactly what they wanted. They loved the way he gave them the cold shoulder.

     Nagito, on the other hand, was a different case entirely. He didn’t just ignore the girls, he made an obvious show of his disgust for them. He was practically snarling, nose scrunched up as he leaned away from the crowd of them. It wasn’t annoyance at their mewling and squawking, it was something far different. Something like pure revulsion mixed with condescension. But why? It didn’t really matter, as the girls clearly didn’t pick up on his cues, shooting rapid-fire questions his way and reaching out for his sleeves. You scoffed. It was so shallow of them to only like him for his looks and title of Ultimate he held. They knew nothing about him. 

     What he could do to them if they got them alone. How him could kill them in an instant, and even possibly enjoy that kill.

     While you were lost in the abhorrence of your thoughts, Nagito’s eyes had honed in on you, noticed that you were wearing the same uniform as him, and promptly glided over in front of you.

     “Why, hello there!” Komaeda stopped right in front of you. You took a startled step back, but he grasped your hand, preventing you from moving any further away. You did everything you could to repress your fear and repugnance, but your hand still shook slightly in his cold, dead one, and you were sure he could tell. He giggled, obviously enamored with your very presence. “I don’t believe I've seen you before, but you must be in the Main Course as well! What’s your name, if I might ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna...” Nagito grinned widely, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The girls swooned beside you. It seemed you were the only one afraid of what those teeth could do. He was deceivingly beautiful on the outside: tall, pale, doe-eyed, and dangerous. His Class B ranking put him just below the most dangerous of vampires, the elite, the royal clans.

     “(Y-Y/N). It’s my first day.” Your voice shook as you jerked your hand away roughly. It was hard to feel confident without your weapons on you, knowing there was nothing you could do to defend yourself here. Damn you, Kirigiri.

      Your father would be enraged if he knew you had just touched a vampire’s hand so casually. Nagito frowned slightly. He could sense it, the way you didn't trust him, the way you didn't like him down deep inside. He knew you knew something you shouldn't, knew more than the other humans attending Hope’s Peak, and he didn't like it. His brow furrowed in a display of frustration, but that quickly melted away, and he smiled kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners. He would figure out what made you special, even among the Ultimates he revered so passionately. Something was off, and it would kill him if he didn’t figure out why.

     “Well, (Y/N)” He leaned down to your height, his face inches from yours, breathing deeply. Almost as soon as he’d inhaled, he snapped back up, his spine stiff and straight. “Oh!” A look of almost painful surprise and confusion crossed his countenance.

     “What?” You panicked, looking him up and down.

     “Oh, uh, nothing… you smell really good, heh. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, huh? Wow, I’m really the worst...” he chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a display of innocence. Your mouth hung open, appalled. How could he be so bold about his nature in public? You knew exactly what he was smelling. The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in fear and vexation. Your reaction told him all he needed to know, and in that instant, he decided he wanted to know more. Nagito was the obsessive type, and you were going to be his new fixation. Why did you know? Who told you of his... condition? “Anyway, welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again.” You could hear the wave of extreme jealousy behind you. The heat of anger and envy for you was thick in the air.

     “Enough, Komaeda, ya big creep…” the small but feisty boy cleared his throat before continuing.  “C’mon, if you wanna have time for lunch it’s now or never!” You sighed in relief. Fuyuhiko placed his hand on Nagito's shoulder, pulling him gently away from you. 

     “Sorry, sorry!” Nagito offered a warm smile to his shorter friend. “I’m coming! I apologize, Fuyuhiko” He turned to you,“See you in class, (Y/N)” He simpered, and continued to trail along behind his friend.

     Not if you had anything to say about it…

     You were going to avoid that boy like the plague. Just because you couldn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you had to be best friends.

[yandere-sins]

uh hey! for the supernatural prompts, could I get 2 and/or 42 with Nagito as a drider (or maybe a naga if you'd prefer)? i hope you don't mind since you just got a request for him 😓

Nagito is a popular character, no worries about requesting him if you want to see more of him! ^^ Enjoy!

“Don’t be scared.”  &   “I can smell you~”  

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-«« 

You didn’t consider stopping to run, but when your foot got caught in something on the ground, you couldn’t hold your balance, falling to your knees. It was still too dark to see, though you knew the exit must have been just ahead, a couple minutes more and you’d have run out of this tunnel.

What a stupid idea to make a bet on how long you and your friends could explore this cave. There had been a reason your elders told you not to go there and stay away very far from it. But you and your friends, you didn’t listen. Stupid as you had been, you had gone deeper and deeper, even when the ceiling started to be covered in spider webs and cocoons hung around. ‘Cool’ that’s what your friends had called it, smashing one of them as if it was a game.

But actually, it turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Frantically, you pulled at your foot, trying to get back on track and start running again. You felt like the more you struggled to fight the thing you were stuck on, the less it let go of you. But you had no time to wonder what it could be, hearing a skittering sound behind you, instantly making you more frantic and panicked, remembering again that you were followed by... something.

The only wish you had was that you still had your lighter, something to defend you against whatever monster lurked in the shadows, and of course: Light for yourself. It was tough, knowing your friends didn’t make it, but it was tougher being the last one and not even seeing the monster chasing you.

“I can smell you ~”

The voice was so melodic, even when it echoed through the tunnel. A soft laugh followed it, clearly amused, yet you had nothing to laugh about yourself. “Look who’s got themselves caught up in a piece of web. You need a hand?”

Fatal for you, the echo made it seem as if the sound came from all directions, and you were unable to pinpoint it. “G-Go away!” you screamed, in hopes of fending off whatever beast was trying to approach you. “Oh, so desperate, are we?”

To your surprise, you heard the clinking as someone tried to start up a lighter, seeing some faint sparks just inches away from you. You pulled your head away just in time before it lit up, which surely would have burned your nose, had you stayed where you were. The hand holding the light looked human enough, but it wasn’t strong enough to illuminate much around it.

“Don’t be scared,” the voice hushed as suddenly a face appeared in the shine of the fire, and you jumped out of fright, your heart beating heavily in your chest. It was hard to distinguish what the person was, aside from the fact that to you, they looked weirdly pretty. Ashen hair, soft-colored eyes. Nothing full, nothing half, ethereal.

But in their eyes was a gleam of hellish madness, and you immediately caught it even when they smiled at you.

The thing moved, eyes shifting to your foot. You heard a sound that was too full, too inhuman just to be a normal body moving. There must be something big beyond the face you could see, something that would have changed your views forever.

“Your friends were gone so quickly, but I was so happy about your all's visit.”

The mouth formed these words, yet, you couldn’t believe them. Lowering the light, the face disappeared in the endless darkness again and revealed your foot instead, covered entirely in thick, white strands of web. Moving your toes, there was so much collected, you didn’t even see the movement anymore, and you had to admit you probably wouldn’t get out again with just pulling and tearing on the material.

“G-Get it off...” you stuttered, tempted to reach for it, but too scared it might get stuck more. “Hm?” you heard in response, urging you to speak up.

“Get it off... please.”

You needed a whole lot of effort to admit it again and be nice about it, a tiny bit of your heart wanting to believe that nothing wrong was going on after all. But that belief faded quickly as you saw the person’s hand lower itself on top of the white, it being the first time you saw their grotesque long fingers with the sharp nails.

“It’s despairing, isn’t it? Caught in the net, wiggling but never getting free again.”

It was impossible for you to look up in the darkness where the face should be, too afraid of what you might end up seeing. “And you were so nice too, the only one not disturbing my little helper’s sleep... But here you are, caught like a fly in the spider's web.”

Instinctively, you reacted, your hand lashing forward, trying to reach the flame that was so close to your foot. With it, you surely could free yourself, even if you had to burn down the whole rest of this monster den. But you were too slow, the light suddenly going out, and you heard the clinking of the lighter as it landed somewhere on the ground. Only the darkness remained and the ever so oppressive presence of the being with you.

“I know what your folks say. That there’s a monster in the cave. A beast out there to hurt you, but I never do!”

“M-My family will search for me, all of us!”

“Oh, I am sure they will.” It snickered, and you felt two large hands creep up the sides of your body, slowly but surely lifting you into the air. “Can you imagine... so much despair when they see their children hung to the wall by a thread, it’s--” There was a pleased sound, the smacking of hungry lips.

“Delicious isn’t it.”

Something fiddled around with your foot when you suddenly heard the strings snap, and you could move your leg around as you pleased again. Immediately you began to struggle, but the grip was holding you so tightly and stiff in your back, you had a hard time moving. “What- What are you?!” you screamed at it - pretty sure, right into its face.

“I? I guess I am the monster of this cave. Normally, I am just Nagito, but you wouldn’t actually call me that, right, little human?”

You felt the thing move, too evenly, not like it was standing on two legs, and slowly, your mind began piecing the things you had seen together: the spiders, the webs, the movements. Even if you denied yourself naming the creature in front of you, you knew what it was, and the thought alone made you nauseous. Quickly, you shook your head, hoping to forget again.

“You’re so cute,” it snickered, obviously, with better senses than you, having no problem navigating the dark. “I should make you another snack, but you could say your friends served me a feast... No, I think, I’d like to keep you around for a while, what do you say?”

“N-No--”

“Yes, it will be so beautiful when you see your family again when they try to get you. So much hope sparking in you, turning into despair when you feel my weight on the web I will spin just for you. I already adore you so much, just thinking about your expression is making me tingle~”

It was hard, believing your ears, listening to these words that barely made sense to you. But there was no sense in Nagito’s doings and no good ideas in his head as it seemed. When he finally broke through the darkness, you had to pinch your eyes closed, the cave filled with peaceful sunlight. You regretted having to open them, but hearing the skittering around you, paired with the pleased hum from the monster’s lips, there was no peace in keeping your eyes shut.

More fear filled your mind as you saw the enormous spider body, attached to the torso of a man, grinning from ear to ear as he held you up in the sky. “Welcome home~” he cooed, and you again tried to shake yourself free when he simply let go of you. You expected to fall, to land right on your face, but instead, something stuck to your body like pitch, and you were quick to notice it wasn’t only on your body, but also in your hair, clothes, everywhere!

As if perched in your own grave, you were put on top of a white shimmering, absurdly large web. Around you, spiders covered the walls, moving around, working their own nets, while you flinched noticeably, as a large spider leg set down on the string next to your head. Looking forward again, you stared directly into the monster’s face, looking almost infatuated at your form laid to a sticky rest. The two inhuman hands came up to cup your cheeks, caressing them tenderly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you until the day comes!” he promised you, and you wanted to shake your head, but it was stuck on the web, so you could only complain loudly. But when you opened your mouth, only a fearful, quaking sound escaped you, your body shaking from fear, which only seemed to please the spider king more.

“Remember to keep still; otherwise you really will be just like the fly in the spiderweb, and I’d hate to have to cut you out of the home that I opened so willingly to you, you understand?” You could only stare in horror as Nagito grinned even wider, nodding knowingly. “Ah, I really don’t mind if you start screaming, though.”

“After all, the noise will only attract more people, Darling ~”