#ok back to reading my romance book! just thought i would take a break and read another eddie work by rosie

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 11

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Summary: The Deciever has a question for his Sweet One.

Tags: fluff. Like FLUFF. He may be deranged but he's got a soft spot. Also, told you I was gonna make the Annatar bow angsty.

Notes: the fic is out of order now because I have a lot going on and ITS MY FIC OK OK. Not having to have everything in order has given me so much inspo that within the next 24 hours there could be 2 more parts and 2 other things too soo. I love you all. Thank you for your support. My dms and inbox are always open, also if you wanna give me like a lil tip it would be appreciated.

Halbrand leaned against the archway to the library and watched you as you read through the scrolls and histories. It's how you'd spent your days since coming to Eregion. He worked on the elven rings, and you were here, reading. It was endearing to him that you sought knowledge in such a way. Proof that he had made the right choice in you.

There had to be three. Just as there had to be three rings.

Him with his power and darkness.

Galadriel with her wisdom and light.

You with your goodness and warmth to balance them out.

Three.

Though, he only desired you. Only loved you. You were what he was doing all this for. He had to create a lasting peace. He had to make Middle Earth safe and perfect. He had to overcome this pesky issue of your mortality. He could not allow you to live in a broken world. He would not allow you to come to harm, and, selfishly, perhaps, he could not let you die. The rings were for you. His ambitions and goals revolved around you.

All for you.

At least, that is what he made himself believe. If he was truly honest, he had different motives as well. Motives of power and control. Motives that would have driven him down this path if you'd never met. His deception was so great that he was able to hide that away. He was able to believe the ends justified the means. And if you were what was at the end, there was no depravity he could not justify.

Watching you now, you were breathtaking with your eyes focused and strands of hair falling in your face. You'd taken full advantage of the beautiful wardrobe and styles of the elves. Intricate, delicate strands of silver were braided through your hair. You wore a dress of light blue with more silver, and the delicate chains only served to accentuate your curves. He had thought you were beautiful in the Numenorian garb, but now you looked stunning. Breathtaking. He'd seen the most beautiful of the elves, the Silmarils, the light of creation. Yet you were greater than them all.

“I know you're there,” you spoke, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips, but your eyes never moved from the page.

“And yet you stare only at your books. My heart can not help but break.” He teased. “I will not be shamed for staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

He smirked at your blush, approaching you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He noticed that the back half of your hair was pulled up and tied into a bow. He chuckled softly and rested his chin on your shoulder. “What do you read now?”

“A tale of a human and elf falling in love,” you relaxed into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, up to your cheek before turning your head so he could capture your lips in a soft kiss. “Last week, it was the fall of elven cities. This week, it's romance. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You are easily amazed, then.”

“Do not doubt yourself, sweet one.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, turning you around in his arms and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. “I am in awe of you always, but recently, I'm in awe of these things you do with your hair. A bow?” He teased softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Do you not like it,” The way you looked up at him, seeking his approval, it mirrored the expression you wore when you were on your knees begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hips, restraining from taking you on the table.

“I do. It suits you.” He smiles softly, his eyes softening as he sees your bright smile.

“Perhaps you could grow your hair, and I can do it to you. I've seen elves of all kind wear it,” there was an excitement to your voice as you spoke.

He chuckled, “Perhaps one day, if we are parted, I will wear it as a reminder of you when my heart yearns for you.”

“You jest.”

“I do no such thing. You have plenty of things to remember me by,” his fingers traveled down to the intricate necklace of copper he'd made for you at the forge in Numenor. You always wore it. “I shall have the hair bow.”

You frowned, and his thumb traced the downward turn of your lips, his head tilted in a silent question. “Perhaps if I were to have more coin, I could get you something. Perhaps…”

Your words were muffled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hands held your face as he deepened it. It was only when he felt his body react that he pulled away. His nose brushed yours. “You have given me more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, face flushed and lips swollen. His thumb gently caressed your cheeks.

“I don't intend to ever be parted from you,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I mean it.”

He pulled away, searching his pockets for a moment before pulling out a ring. It had a silver band and a small blue gem at the center. He knew it was more than a simple band. He knew of the power he placed in it. The materials he snuck from the forge to add to it. It would need to be perfected in time to come, but for now, it would do what he needed it to. It would increase your lifespan, heal your wounds faster, and It created a connection with him, wherever you were.

It also served as a symbol. That you were his. That his feelings for you were real. His intentions were true.

He looked at it for a moment before looking at you. “ In elven culture, it's customary to give your betrothed a silver ring that you wear until marriage. At that time, they were traded for gold bands. I added a bit more. A gem as blue as the waters that brought us together.”

You gasped softly, looking at the ring and then to him.

“It's the custom of your people to ask the family but you have none. The family who warded you is gone as well. I have no one to ask for your hand but you. As such, I felt that I should give you the same proposal in which I would have given your father.”

He stood up straight, one hand on your chin directing you to look at him. “You fill me with a warmth I've never known. I no longer know who I am if not with you. I was lost and astray, without hope or purpose. It was as if the gods themselves put you on my path. You are a beacon of hope, your smile my purpose. There is nothing I would not do for you, no trial I would not face. I love you. I adore you. I have never thought of children until I met you, and now I know I want to make you a mother. I want to make you my wife.”

He brushed away a tear that had fallen from your eyes, “I give you the choice, I would never force anything upon you. Do you want that? Do you want me?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Fuck, I'm so nervous I can't talk. Just tell me, yes or no? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, nodding your head. He slid the ring onto your finger before lifting you and twirling you around. As he set you down, you looked at the ring on your finger.

“I never thought I'd be betrothed. I never thought I'd choose who I could marry.” You smiled up at him, and it filled him with joy unimaginable.

“I never thought I'd give a woman a romantic speech or truly want to settle down.” He rested his forehead against yours once more. “I'm a changed man thanks to you. Near unrecognizable to that drifter on the raft.”

“That is true. You will be a king soon.” You gasped suddenly as a realization dawned on you. “ I'm going to be a queen. Me? A queen” you laughed softly at the thought.

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That is true. As soon as my business here is done, we can return to the southlands and be wed, and you can meet all your subjects.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I'm not sure I like the thought of having subjects.”

“Of course you don't, “ he rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling. “Why don't we go back to our chambers, and I can show you how devoted of a subject I am?”

Your cheeks turned red, and you buried your face in his neck. He placed a kiss on your head, “I'll kneel and worship my queen.”

“Halbrand,” you spoke, pulling back and giving him a look.

“I'll fill you with my warmth.”

"Stop it!” You smacked his arm,causing him to laugh deeply and wrap his arms around you for a tight hug.

[earthtooz]

x : CHANGE YOUR MIND ! :*+ﾟ

in which: it's 2 am and itoshi sae is outside your door, hoping for a second chance.

warnings: 1.2k words, angst to fluff with hurt/comfort, happy ending, exes to lovers, not at all realistic but it's itoshi sae ok and we're delusional, ooc!sae

a/n: second second chance romance fic for sae LOL he's just too easy to write for when it comes to exes to lovers. idk why the banner is so low quality but enjoy!

you wonder where itoshi sae finds the nerve. after breaking up with you six months ago ‘for the sake of his career’, you never thought sae would have the gall to show up at your apartment, let alone at 2am, rudely disrupting your sleep.

yet, here he is. a soccer prodigy and superstar in the flesh, standing under the harsh lighting of your apartment hallway that always casts an ugly glow on everyone except sae.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, gripping the door handle a little tighter.

“i just got off the plane,” he answers, evading your question. 

“i know. i can see your suitcases.”

he doesn’t say anything more after that. before the breakup, you were able to read the untouchable itoshi sae, translating his stiff silences into words he could never say but wholeheartedly mean, breaking through his ego to then understand the messages of his heart. he only hopes that you can interpret the one he’s brought to you right now.

“can i come in?” asks the athlete, his question shy and lacking the usual demand that sits in his tone.

still, you furrow your eyebrows and stand your ground. “why on earth would i let you in?”

softness is a weapon that itoshi sae owns. he knows that with his typical hardened exterior the best way he can get through people sometimes is with pliability. even you have fallen for it.

he frowns, “because i’m tired and i want to sleep.”

“don’t you have your own five star hotel that your manager booked for you?” 

“can i just come in?”

the nerve. “itoshi, please leave.”

“i will, i will, but will you hear me out first?”

“what could you possibly have to say that you didn’t befo-”

“-i love you.”

the world stills.

the air around you becomes delicate and you’re too scared to breathe in fear of disrupting the silence, but it feels like the floor beneath you just crumbled and you’re falling through the debris. you’re falling and the only thing you can do is search for sae in the chaos. 

but you don’t hold on to him. no, not this time.

“that’s not fair, that’s not fair at all, sae, you can’t-” a sob tears your words apart, “-you can’t break my heart then come back six months later to tell me that you apparently love me, do you know how hard it was for me to just- ugh!”

in a fit of exasperation, you leave your post at the door and retreat back into your apartment. sae quietly slips through the crack you left open, closing the door with a soft click and you don’t even have the energy to chase him out. he even left his suitcases outside- not that anyone would take them at 4 in the morning. 

“you left me so abruptly and carelessly. we were together for almost a year, sae, yet you threw me aside, called me a burden and moved on with a snap of your fingers! was it easy? moving on like that?” 

instead of flinching at your yelling, sae simply stands at the entrance and accepts it, letting your words prick his skin and sink into him as if would make up for the pain you’ve been bathing in. 

“do you know what that did to me?” your voice is quiet now, turned down a few notches. 

he knows. he knows that you’ve been trying to get over it and not let the breakup impact your life too much, despite what he did. you’ve been going out with friends, treating yourself to everything you deserve, and finding a peace that he’s proud of you for. but sae also knows about the many nights you’ve spent crying and being sensitive to loving again, he hears about all of it from rin who lectured him when he first broke up with you and most likely, will lecture him again when he hears about sae’s unplanned visit.

sae was stupid and naive, but you were the first person he ever loved, and the world is colourless without your splash of influence. 

sae knows he shouldn’t be here existing in your space after everything, however, the instant he stepped off the plane, the first thing his heart wanted was to see one of the few things he loves about japan, you. 

“-so, please, just leave me alone and don’t come back,” you request.

the last thing sae is good at is following instructions, especially ones he doesn’t like.

“but, i love you,” he tries again. you fall to the couch with a defeated sigh, his persistence impaling your heart. 

“stop it.”

somehow, he’s now standing beside you. “do you still love me too?”

“sae-”

“-if you don’t love me anymore i’ll leave.”

with your head in your hands, you lie to him, “i don’t want you to stay either way.”

“another chance, i’ll make it right, i’ll fix it with my life, y/n, just please say you love me too.” 

“you’ll hurt me again.”

“i won’t,” he falls down onto the couch beside you, enveloping you with his frame. “i’ll be good and you can kill me if i’m not.”

you laugh. it’s dry and reserved, but you’re laughing and he begins rocking you side to side. “i don’t want to kill you.”

“rin will, then.”

you take your face out of your hands, looking at him properly for the first time since he arrived. “i-i don’t know, sae. you’ll leave again when you decide that you don’t want me.”

he doesn’t know how to tell you that whilst abroad, all he could think about was you. that during the mundane chores, the tedious trips to and from training, and all the times that he had won a match, he was thinking about you. 

he thought about you in the music he played whilst cleaning, he thought about taking you to a restaurant he saw whilst on the way, and his thoughts about you are loudest when he has a medal around his neck yet all he wants to know is whether or not you’re watching.

but you’re not beside him singing along whilst he was mopping his floors, you weren’t there in his car pointing out every fun detail you saw, and he didn’t even know if you wanted anything to do with soccer after what him. 

everytime, the yearning for you would grow, to the point that it lead him here when he should have gone to the hotel to wash up and sleep off the tiring trip instead.

but sitting here now and looking at your tear-stained face, he knows he’ll always prefer you- he’ll always find and choose you, so long as you let him. 

��give me another chance,” and i’ll show you that i’ll never leave again.

“fine,” you surrender after a moment of silence and sae feels like he could jump to the moon. “but we take things slow-”

“-i love you,” he repeats, grabbing your face and pushing you down on the couch, peppering an endless stream of kisses on your skin. sae’s outburst of affection and happiness is uncharacteristic but contagious. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

between each declaration is sae kissing a new part of your face, showering your cheeks, forehead, nose- everywhere with unbridled adoration that he has been keeping locked up for too long. you’re real between his hands, you’re real in his hold, you’re real beneath him, and he doesn’t want this dream to end. his kisses feel like healing promises and you melt right into them. 

“i get it!” you giggle out, hands on his shoulders as to wrestle him off. “you don’t need to keep telling me, and promise me that we’re going to take it slow-”

a cold tear slides down your cheek, silencing your giggles. it’s not you who’s crying though, so you hug sae a little tighter.

something tells you that this second chance won’t backfire.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[jenniferjareauwife]

i don't write for emily :/

// sorry! i forgot to say it’s jj x reader

Doyle

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: stabbing

word count: 761

summary: jj looks out for you after you were stabbed by doyle and it blossoms into a romance

My vision was blurry and I didn't know where I was. Nothing made sense anymore. It was dark...there's Emily. She's...she's ok? She was smiling but I swear I heard screaming just a few minutes ago. What was happening?

I flinched when I felt someone's hands on me. Not him again. Please not him. I turned my head as much as it would go, feeling weaker by the second. "Hey y/n." She had blonde hair and looked familiar but I was too tired and weak to connect the dots. "It's JJ. We're gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on." I screamed in pain as I felt something get ripped out of my stomach before someone started stuffing something back in again. "They're just packing the wound, it's ok."

"JJ."

"Yeah. It's me." She held my face in her hands as she knelt above my head. "We're gonna get you home safe. Everything is ok. Emily is safe too, ok?"

"Hm." I groaned in pain.

"Hey hey, eyes on me. Just breathe through it."

"Hurts."

"I know it does, but it's keeping you alive." Her voice was quiet, it was really soothing. "We're gonna take you to the hospital now, ok?"

I woke up in a bright room, sitting a bit upright on a comfy bed. "Hey. You're awake." I turned my head and saw JJ. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she looked tired.

"Hi. Why are you here?" It didn't look like anyone else from the team was here.

"One of us had to stay back. I volunteered."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm not babysitting you. I'm keeping you company. What you went through was traumatic. You shouldn't be alone." I gulped and nodded. "Are you hungry? I have a few jello cups."

"I'm honestly just really fucking tired."

"That makes sense your body has been through a lot." She moved her chair closer to me and handed me the jello. "You're gonna need some food anyways." I smiled, it was nice to have someone looking out for me.

Two weeks later I was still in the hospital and JJ hadn't left. She was with me any chance she could. "Hey. I brought you a new book I thought you might like." My chest felt lighter when I saw her, like my anxiety was gone now.

"Thanks." I took the book from her but I didn't read the back cover or the inside jacket.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I've been in this room with you every hour for the past two weeks. I know your tells." She sat down in her chair and moved closer. "You can tell me. It's better to get it off your chest than to let it bother you."

"I don't want to be here. I hate being stuck here. I want to be out with the team, doing something. I want to know that I'm helping people."

"You are helping people and that's what got you hurt. It's ok to take breaks every once in a while."

"But I don't want to take a break."

"Hey. Listen to me." She grabbed my hand and I felt my heart skip a beat. "You're not missing out, ok? You're just doing what you need to do to be at the top of your game when you get back." I gulped, knowing she was right.

"Ok."

A week later I was finally discharged from the hospital. JJ had her arm around my waist for stability as we walked through the parking lot. "You ok?" She asked as I tripped, gripping my waist so I didn't fall and pulling me up. Our faces were inches away and I kissed her without thinking.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry-" She cut me off with a kiss.

"I was waiting for you to do that." My face flushed a deep red.

"Y-you were? I-I didn't even k-know you liked girls." She kissed me again, finding my stuttering adorable.

"If I didn't like girls would I be kissing you? Taking every chance I can to touch you?" I shook my head no, leaning in for another kiss. It was only the fourth one but I was already addicted. She just stared into my eyes, caressing my cheeks while holding my face like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "Let's get you home, yeah? I'm sure you miss your bed."

"I really do." I got into her car and felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in months as we drove back to Quantico.

[generational-atrophy]

Hi!!!!!!

Can I request the main 8 with a poet/writer s/o?

The main 8 find their s/o's poems or writing about them and it's like how much they love them !!!

(hopefully this makes sense :D have a nice day!

Also your writing super coolio )

hetalia allies + germany with a s/o who's a writer

1.6k words ~ gender neutral heacanons + mini scenarios

tw: swearing, thats it!

a/n: i believe this is after the cutoff so its only 6 characters sorry! also ty :)

America

Alfred may not seem like it, considering his less-than-stellar attention span, but he can be quite an avid reader if he wants to be.

In fact, when he was travelling the western frontier, he often wrote poems himself.

He loves your work, (he’s always the first one showing up on release day!) but he doesn’t love how much time it takes away from you.

Seeing you exhausted and frustrated after a long night, trash can filled with discarded drafts, just breaks his heart. He’ll make sure your office is always stacked with 

Alfred wasn’t usually so easily swayed by cheesy romances, despite his sweet soft for them. But now, reading your book, he couldn’t help flushing at every interaction his favourite couple had.

The one he was reading now, well, it just took the cake. Spending the day wandering East Potomac Park? It was something out of his dreams- just endlessly… familiar?

Wait, hadn’t he done that recently with you?

Oh.

He set the book aside, burying his face in his hands as he blushed wildly.

Guess the blue-eyed, blond love interest hero was a bit more than a stereotype after all.

England

Ah, a writer. Arthur has long admired the literary arts, having many a classic writer come from his home. Yes, he’d quite enjoy someone like that.

He loves reading your work, regardless of what it is, but he’d prefer you read it to him. Then he can get all of your silly little notes along with it. Just for him <3

Although he wouldn’t appreciate you spending all day working. He’s not needy usually, but by the time you two go to bed, he’s DESPERATE for your attention.

He tries not to disturb you, though.

From the moment he picked up your work, he could tell where your inspiration for the main love interest came from. Sandy-haired, green eyes, tall but not too tall, always how you had described him.

Of course, that made his reading even more of a joy.

The only thing that bothered him was how the protagonist described themself. Always dismissed, below-par, never worthy of his love. Now, that just wouldn’t stand.

So he began to write as well. In between the margins, on attached papers, on the sides, everywhere. Correcting every disparaging thought.

Then when he finished, he handed the book back to you, with a cheeky comment.

“It was absolutely wonderful, my love.”

Whether you ever saw the notes or not didn’t matter. He had made the book even more perfect, at least to himself.

France

As said before, Francis is a very artsy guy. Very artsy. Although he’s not always skilled at making art himself… so having another artist would help with that.

He’s absolutely the number one collector of your works. Every scrap, every trashed draft, every misprint, he’s keeping everything.

He’s also pretty ok with how much time it takes! It gives him time to relax, or maybe even join in working on creative projects.

Although he would insist on regular breaks. Fortunately, Francis is a hedonist at heart, so those breaks will always provide much inspiration.

True beauty is rare. Living for so long had proven that time and time again for Francis. It isn’t natural, it isn’t easy, and it never lasts. But…that doesn’t make the pursuit of it any more meaningless.

Even more rare than its existence, is the constant presence of it.

But when he read your poems, venerating and elucidating your own feelings, he felt as if he had found it. God, it was beautiful. Your words, unlike any other’s he had read in his many years, made him feel as if he was falling in love all over again.

Instantly, he was transported into your shoes, viewing himself in a light that had never been shone on him before.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself now. It felt wrong- wrong to not give absolute reverence to this piece of art.

If he had had access to the Louvre, he would’ve kept it there. But, well, his kitchen wall would have to do for now.

China

Finally, some good fucking talent. He's very excited about his S/O being an artist! He's not much of one himself these days, but it's good to see the youth catching up to the old masters.

As much as he loves you, he's very opinionated. Everything you write he either LOVES or HATES. Though he's always excited to show off his favourites of your works, he's very proud of you.

Though he absolutely is not stand by while you spend all day sitting around and writing. Get off the couch and come with him, you're never gonna write anything real good if you don't have any life experience!

Because of that, he's gonna be a little hesitant to cater to you while you're writing.

Your last work was good, to be sure, but nothing like this. Your newest release blew him off his feet with ease, captivating him with every turn of the page. One of his favourites, he thought to himself, that'll be one he'd have to return to.

The only problem was that it was almost over already. He wasn't that much of a fast reader, was he? Well, I guess it's easy to go quickly if you love it.

And love it he did, to the very last page. Wait, this is the last page, isn't it? Why are there three more?

He flipped through them, his eyes quickly widening as he read the last page.

A love letter? To... him?

“Is this in every edition?” He asked you shakily, looking to you for reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“That's...”  He brought a hand to his mouth, covering his blushing cheeks  trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes, “That's such a waste of paper...”

Russia

Frankly, Ivan doesn't care much what you do. The most exciting part of you being a writer to him is just that you'd need to spend plenty of time at home.

But he'd always read your work. (Especially rough drafts, he's really good at being blunt but not mean.) And as time goes on, he'll fall in love with your talent more and more. Despite his country's many famous writers, he thinks none of them stack up to you.

He wouldn't mind how much time you dedicate to your craft, but he'd make sure to take good care of you while you're writing. He's truly very worried about you withering away in that desk chair of yours...

“Oh, I absolutely loved the part where-“

Ivan had been ranting for hours, going over every single detail that had caught his eye. Every time he thought of something new, it would lead to another excited train of thought. But there was one thing they all had in common... he really loved one character.

”He's strong!“ He'd gush, ”He's kind, and loving, and I just want him to have a happy ending!“

You let him explain over and over again how much he looked up to this character, wanting to change to be more like him in every way.

But it wasn't until he calmed down a little bit that you felt it was time to reveal the truth.

”Yeah, you know... he's based on someone I know.“

”Really? Who? I must meet him!“ He clasps his hands together in excitement.

”You, you big dummy.“

He pauses for a moment, his smile fading. He looks upset for a moment, trying to figure out how.

”But... but I am none of those things.“

”You are to me. I mean, whenever I thought about you... I'd just write that character.“

He laughs awkwardly, “You are joking, right?”

“No, of course not. You're strong... and you're kind....” he shifts away from you, tears welling in his eyes, “You're loving... and... and I'll give you a happy ending, ok?”

Before you can react, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

”Promise?“

”Promise.“

Germany

Ludwig would definitely love a S/O who writes. Mostly for one specific reason, though. Writers, well, they see the world in a different way. Whether that be in a more romantic, more objective, or more sympathetic way, he doesn't care. He wants to talk things through with someone like you.

He wouldn't be a total fanboy, but he'd still love your work.  Although, he might not show it the way you want... it's hard for him not to criticize. He wouldn't be too harsh though!

He wouldn't mind how much you get sucked into your writing either. He knows what it's like to be dedicated to your craft, and he won't bother you too much.

Ludwig had never been an emotional person. Never, not once, throughout his many years was he truly moved to tears by fiction. Art depicting real life? Of course, many times. But he simply never found fiction as compelling as reality.

That was, of course, until he read your own works. Now, going through what you had so effortlessly created, he couldn't help tearing up at nearly every turn of events.

The way you were about to put him into the character's shoes without him even realizing, forcing him along the same journey they had gone through. It was... stunning, to say the least.

But when one of the characters began to fall in love, it was like nothing he had experienced before. Not because of any significant jump in quality, but just because... you had written it.

For a moment he sat in silence, pondering the book when he realized.

Was this what it felt like for you to fall in love with him?

It sent a chill down his spine. No, he didn't feel any differently, not at all. But... he had assumed you couldn't possibly love him as much as he loved you. Except... now?

Well, if this was how you had felt. He couldn't possibly let you go anytime soon.

[leoblooms]

Rachel lore stuff

Ok so I'm compiling my stuff about Rachel under the cut like how I did for Paul's parents! Mostly cause I want to have a set of how she would fit in since she's changed sm since 2021.

For context she originally started as pretty much exactly based on the character from American Psycho 2

Over time her design changed more and more as did aspects of her personality. Yeah she was more of a joke inclusion at first but like all joke things the more I included her, the more I thought about it and so.....

Timeline

So as the timeline I'm trying to set goes, Rachel was a foster kid for most of her life. At least since she was a toddler or early childhood after losing her parents. She remained in the system until aging out at the age of 18 which was when Paul's sister Jen sought to give her some assistance.

Paul, age 36 had discussions with his sister on the system over phone calls or family gatherings. It appeared like he had grown more and more interested, not only in that but dropping more hints of wanting to become a parent, so she mentioned Rachel to him. With the thought that adopting a kid that much older could be a lot easier than a small child, he agreed (much to Patrick's irritation but they still had separate living spaces so Paul didn't really care what he had to say).

To say it was a rough start would be putting it mildly, as with anyone thrusted into a new situation, Rachel had to suddenly navigate this new environment with the thought that it could all go away in an instant. She was used to rejection from families, peers etc so it was easier to switch off from engaging too much with Paul's attempts to welcome her. Paul tried with buying things and kept going that route when that didn't work. Eventually it was clear that it was just making her more uncomfortable so he tried to find things that interested her. This involved putting up with things he could barely stand like watching horror movies. He'd ask her about what she liked to read or about her life, but learned when to back off. It was the little things like that that brought her closer to Paul and conveyed that he may be safer than she thought.

Given that it was late Summer, Rachel opted to take a gap year now with college on the table. Rachel was most interested in forensics, partially because of the morbid nature of studying the dead and the nature of death itself. Paul supported this idea, seeing it as a great career opportunity as he pushed for her to decide on a study throughout the year.

Paul's family took an instant liking to her (his sister already being familiar with her and their mother welcoming her as her grandkid). By choice, she never met Patrick's family.

After a lot of prepping, she ended up going to Syracuse University to study forensic science where she met her roommate, Brenda. Brenda was brash and said everything on her mind which at first instantly turned Rachel off. She's more the type to mull over things but when someone gets that in her face it drives her crazy. They do find common ground and actually become extremely close just over the course of one semester.

It was pretty clear that she was homesick (she will not say that out loud) and frequently called Paul at night. If it weren't a nearly 4 hour distance by car she'd probably have visited more often besides the breaks. She did however, on her first week use the fact that she left behind a book to come home for the weekend. Paul was always more than happy to call and pay for the ride to and from.

Post graduation Rachel kept in touch with Brenda, they'd eventually become roommates again once they both found employment near New York City. The two found themselves in the closest thing they feel comfortable calling a relationship. Rachel was always adverse to romance and a lot of the labels and expectations that came with it. Brenda was easy going about it all and they found something that worked for them. Paul didn't totally get it and would get things wrong, Patrick didn't care to learn much about it.

As Rachel would get older she'd become more estranged from Paul, seeing him as an enabler to Patrick and finding "excuses" for staying with him. This would result in fighting and Rachel not talking to him or taking his calls for at least a month. They'd eventually reconcile but she would still have some boundaries. It would be hard for her to fully separate from Paul even as a grown adult, but it would also soon become hard to be as open and close as she once was.

Personality

Rachel's socially awkward, always has been and never totally grew out of it. She had trouble making friends due to this, being seen as off-putting to some. Once she begins to warm up to a person, she's a lot more relaxed and open about herself and interests. She's fascinated with the concept of death and the way things rot. She also loves horror movies and books, one of her only ways to relate to Patrick, and it's to a nerdy obsession. She thought briefly about the possibility of doing effects makeup.

She's still private about aspects of her personal life, only sharing bits and pieces when at her most comfortable.

Rachel has a tendency to think out loud or mumble to herself when deep in thought, sometimes making others think she's talking to them.

She also struggled with catastrophizing, especially early on after moving in with Paul. This would never show outwardly as she would shut down and withdraw rather than make an obvious show of it. Overtime she learned to control this better.

[siriusleee]

to preface, i did talk about this with my therapist and while she said it's ok to share with friends, not the greater tumblr community, you're all my friends. (read the tags please)

if you are currently waiting on me to update a fic like silver and gold, or to start something new, it's taking me a bit because i have to rework the entire plot of everything. why?

well, as some people know, 2024 was a bad year for me. but only about 3 people know why. mid 2024, i found out my husband had a very long emotional affair with a friend of his. i went crazy actually - from breaking almost everything in our house to plotting how to ruin the woman's life (because she knew about me the entire time, but that's actually a different story).

it interrupted my writing due to obvious reasons, but also for reasons that are harder to verbalize. the thing about something like this happening is that it can (and did for me) cause ptsd. one of the things i now struggle with is reading or writing about anything romantic or smut. for a few months, seeing anything in the romance/smut genre would lead me to get physically ill and spiral and other things. even now, i can't read any smut, but working on things that are romantic or border on romance is a therapeutic goal of mine. which is why i'm slowly picking up writing again.

but now i'm working on rewriting my plots because i just don't find what i originally had fun or interesting anymore. so if you're waiting on updates, they'll come, just slow. please give me a bit of time.

now if you want to know why i wrote all this out instead of just saying the updates would take a while:

being cheated on is very lonely and othering. but, research shows that in the u.s., 1/3 couples goes through an affair. the number is thought to be higher, however, since people will usually lie out of shame and humiliation. so chances are someone that follows me has also gone through this, and idk reading books about other people's experiences has helped me, so maybe this will help them.

i've been working on basically exposure therapy and this is part of of it: being more open with everyone because the things i go through aren't actually shameful

if you have any questions, feel free to ask. it can be about what i went through or my fics. if you are rude, i will reply back with a picture of a gun - take it how you will

[catnipster69]

J2 Fic Recommendations Full List

My wincest rec list was getting so long, I thought I’d break out the J2 ones since that’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

Wincest rec list here.

Light

Black Cat Mercantile by deadlybride @zmediaoutlet​

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19348303

Searching for materials for a new sculpture he's planning, Jared gets sent to a magical salvage shop in a bad part of town. The proprietor's got a great artistic eye, a criminal conviction, and an attitude that could earn him a punch to the face. Jared finds himself coming back, anyway.

One of my favorites, very literary; I can just imagine this as a regular book if it were expanded.I just want to point out that a scale for wincest fic from lightest to darkest could skew pretty dark, so although I put this in “Light,” it’s not exactly without angst and background trauma. I’m not totally feeling my darkest category right now...

The King’s Hound by tryfanstone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/488844

To the victor goes the spoils, and Jensen's about to find out just how victorious Jared's feeling. Bonus: D/s, spanking, rimming, felching, creampie, bareback, orgasm denial, nipple play. Make it hot. Jensen eventually learns his place.

This one is a more recent discovery. My ability to find first-rate fics has slowed down quite a bit with the amount I read, so it’s always a delight to find one! Tryfanstone has many others worth reading, but this one is my favorite. I know, “light” for forced servitude? I dunno, it ends well.

Get Some [Ink] by BewareTheIdes15

https://archiveofourown.org/works/215362

Most high school kids who got lewd, cryptic notes from their bosses would probably have said bosses sued for sexual harassment. Most high school kids don't have bosses like Jensen.

Just insanely hot.

Prime by @hellhoundsprey

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8792401

Jensen watches Misha’s pet for a week.

I find the whole “humans, but they’re animals?” genre pretty interesting. Like, this can only work on the page, because a visual representation would be jarring. And what's really going on here? It's a mood. 

Gray

Do I seem bulletproof to you? by fleshflutter

https://fleshflutter.livejournal.com/43577.html

When he can't find any acting work, Jared takes a job as driver and bodyguard to Jensen, who is an extremely expensive prostitute with a bad habit of attracting crazy people.

Fleshflutter has the ability to make what should be boring, everyday interactions totally compelling. Not that this story has no plot, but it's kind of leisurely in its storytelling. I do wish this were on AO3.

Fate is a Traveler by @bangingpatchouli (sylsdarkplace)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822885

Jensen lives apart, destined to never mate. His only purpose is to service the sexual needs of the alphas of his village. His survival is predicated on the good will of those alphas until the night he’s expected to service a stranger who is just passing through.

I don’t usually go for A/B/O, as I’ve stated, but I was pleasantly surprised by this one. I put it in the gray zone, but (spoiler) it has a happy ending.

Over the Wall by cherie_morte

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479252

The achronological he said-he said account of Jared and Jensen's jailhouse romance.

I just want them to be ok! ok?

Don't Touch What's Mine by Anonymous

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35278282

Jensen's cock belongs to Jared. Jensen is not allowed to touch his cock at all, and Jared never touches it when they fuck. According to Jared, Jensen needs to learn to come from being fucked in the ass or he won't get to come at all. Ever.

Why Anonymous, my dear writer?

Into His Hand by drvology

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31783861

JR Ackles is a professional bullrider at the top of his game. He's got one thing on his mind: winning the championship belt buckle and the right to call himself the best in the world. His unwavering dedication and focus is finally put to the test in the form of JT Padalecki, an up-and-coming rider new to the professional ranks, who has his sights set on winning the PBR finals - and Jensen. Cowboys ride and get by on grit and tough determination - the question facing Jensen is if they have to do it alone.

This is gray simply because all of the bull riding is scary and dangerous! I can’t say I care at all about rodeos, but this is a gripping read.

stars above, earth below by @hellhoundsprey

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45961108

Back home from an intergalactic war, Jensen struggles to reintegrate himself into society. His childhood best friend Jared is the only one who gets through to him—and not without trouble either. With his back to the wall, Jensen begrudgingly accepts Jared’s help.

I advise you don't read the tags, as there's a twist. Just, very sexy and hopeful.

Like a Detuned Radio by homo_pink @homo-pink

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077114

When Jared's released from prison, Jensen is there to help him cope.

Parole officer/ex-con AU.

Really gets you in the feels.

Dark

Dark and Deep by @bangingpatchouli (sylsdarkplace)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286690

Jensen has issues, which he manages with carefully staged public sex acts, and thinks he’s in complete control until a stranger comes along with other ideas.

I like stories that are off the beaten track.

Gunpoint by felisblanco

https://archiveofourown.org/works/861978

Jensen got his childhood stolen away from him when he was ten years old. Along with his memory, his voice and every emotion that wasn’t fear, hatred or anger. Question is, can Jared help him get any of it back? And more importantly, does Jensen really want him to?

Couldn’t put it down. Love how the power of love helps, but there’s no magic cure for everything.

Kink Corner

These are the fics I was afraid to post as being too outré; but hell, you’ve made it this far! Your kinks may not be my kinks, but if they are, you’re very welcome.

Life Lessons by Anonymous

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538715

Jensen is an Alpha who turns humans into omegas and sells them to the highest Alpha bidder. He has saved up quite a fortune and is ready to retire except for one more turning. He wants an omega for himself. He has found the perfect male. He has done his research all he has to do is catch him and turn him. He is hesitant because some humans don't adjust well. He has had repeat customers who put down the original omega they bought because they couldn't accept their fate. Jared has no idea what is about to hit him.

This Anonymous author “gets” me. I still think they should unveil their wonderful selves.

Training Jared by Anonymous

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060132

Jensen has a large cock. Jared is the one destined to take it. Eventually.

Hello Anonymous again. This author really likes giving it to Jared.

Kennel Training by @bangingpatchouli (sylsdarkplace)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/567716

Jared owns a kennel where he trains very special dogs. Jensen is the newest addition to his kennel. This is very dark fic/horror porn including bestiality.

I get the impression that Syls Darkplace starts their stories as an exercise in kink satisfaction, but then they always turn in an unexpected direction and gain depth as they go. This is super kinky, but also a meditation on victim/perpetrator dynamics and shared trauma.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

A book Is An Adventure

Words: 1651

For: @shinobimagpie

A chime echoed through the tiny bookstore, alerting Gai to the arrival of a new customer. An unfortunate occurance given his current situation.

“Hello!” He called out while shoving boxes of books under the counter so that the customer couldn’t see them. His boss was very particular about keeping new books out of sight until they were to be put out on display and Gai wasn’t going to break that rule just because he’d wanted to take a peek at the new arrivals.

It wasn’t like he needed to check to see if any of them would be good for his favorite Wednesday night customer.

“Hello,” a familiar voice called back to him, causing Gai to whip around so that he was facing the door that the customer had just walked through. “Busy morning?”

“A- not really,” he answered. “It- it’s not Wednesday.”

A chuckle greeted his words. “It’s not.” Kakashi agreed as his eyes crinkled at the edges. Not that Gai would notice.

He certainly wasn’t staring at those beautiful black eyes that Gai happily got lost in every Wednesday evening.

“Weird,” another voice spoke, drawing Gai’s gaze down to the kid standing just behind Kakashi. Taking a guess at the kids age, Gai would say that he was around 5 years old. “Are you allowed to smile, big brother?”

Kakashi’s eyes rolled upwards towards the ceiling. “Once in a while,” he answered before reaching back and gently pushing the kid forward. “Now come on. Kushina-san said that she’d be back in an hour. We need to pick a book.”

Crossing his arms over his chest the kid huffed. “I don’t want a book. Books are boring!”

“Naruto…”

“Boring!?” Gai threw a hand over his heart as if he’d been personally wounded by the kids words. “Books are anything but boring!”

“No, they’re boring,” The kid, Naruto, insisted. “Everything big brother Kakashi reads is boring. They��re full of kissing and things my parents do.”

“Well,” glancing down at the books that he’d shoved under the counter just a moment again, Gai smiled. “Maybe romance novel’s aren't for you. Kakashi does have a particular preference in books. One that’s not for everyone.”

“May I remind you that I'm not reading a romance novel right now?” Digging into his messenger bag, Kakashi brought out the book he’d bought in his last visit as proof. A chunky four hundred page book on old mythologies that Gai had offered to him when he’d surprised him by asking for a non-romance book. “And I am enjoying it.”

Naruto stuck out his tongue. “The story you read from that was sad. Who read’s about that kind of stuff.”

“It was… ok, yes,” Kakashi’s shoulder’s slumped. “It was sad, but I liked it.”

Warmth bloomed in Gai’s chest when he heard those words. He hadn’t been sure about suggesting that book to Kakashi at first, but it seemed he’d made the right choice.

He only hoped it didn’t do anything to worsen Kakashi’s view of himself. There was no one Gai had met in his life who was as hard on themselves as Kakashi was. Hearing even a single kind word when Kakashi spoke of himself was a rarity.

Something Gai would love to fix, if only he could. He just hadn’t figured out a way to make Kakashi see how amazing he was.

How loved he was.

Shaking that thought away, Gai returned his attention to the task at hand. “No romance and nothing sad,” he thought through all of the options in the kid section. “And something Kakashi can read? Or your mom?”

“Big brother Kakashi!” Naruto threw his hands up into the air as a grin split across his face. “He’s the best at reading stories.”

“I can only imagine,” sparing a glance towards Kakashi, Gai watched as he ducked his head, covering his face from view, but not before Gai saw the smallest hint of a blush creeping up over his mask. “So, something without romance,” he repeated. “And nothing sad. I think I might have the perfect book.”

Stepping out from behind the counter he headed straight for the small kids section in the far left corner of the store. There were actually five books he had in mind, but if he told Naruto that it would seem like a giant task.

In his experience babysitting Lee, five year olds didn’t like giant tasks. They liked things that were quick and easy to do. So, he’d focus on one book at a time until they found the right one.

“Now,” he stopped in front of the booksehfl and peered down at the top shelf. “Where is it. I’m sure it was here. Oh!” His eyes landed on the first book on his list and he wasted no time pulling it free from the shelf. “Here we go. This one is about a king who has to protect his land from a dragon.”

“Bleh,” Naruto stuck his tongue out again. “King’s are boring.”

“No kings,” setting the book at the top of the shelf, he began searching for the next. “In that case, how about this one?” He grabbed a purple covered book and showed it to Naruto. On the front was a knoght holding a sword with a princess standing behind him. “A knight who saves the princess from danger. A bit of romance but not enough to ruin the story.”

Lifting his gaze to Kakashi, Gai barely contained his laughter when he saw him rolling his eyes.

“No,” Naruto huffed. “No princess’.”

No princess’. That took not only this book off of the list, but two other’s, which left Gai with only one other option.

“No romance, no sad stories, no princess’,” he repeated the restrictions to himself as he set the second book atop the shelf and began his search for the final book. “Well, how about-“ his eyes locked onto the book and he claimed it immediately. On the cover was a hero dressed in bright orange with his best friend at his side. Both of them wielded a sword and faced the reader directly. “This one is about a pair of hero’s. Best friends who go on adventures together.”

“No romance?” Naruto asked, his eyes glued on the cover.

“No romance.”

“And it’s not sad?”

“Not at all,” Gai assured him with a warm smile. “I read it just last weeks for story hour. The kids loved it.”

“I’m pretty sure they loved that you read it,” Kakashi argued, earning himself a skeptical look from Gai. “What? You’ve had story hour on Wednesday’s so I've heard you read. You put on voices and everything.”

“Voices!?” Naruto gasped. “Like Big Brother Kakashi does?”

A hand came down into a short blond hair and gently ruffled it. “Shush,” Kakashi grumbled, his eyes now directed toward the far right corner. That didn’t matter though. All Gai cared about was the brilliant red blush that was slowly making its way up Kakashi’s face.

Someone didn’t like being exposed as the dork he was, but Gai had never needed to hear it from someone else. He’d seen that dorky side of Kakashi every time he would gush about his latest novel, or whenever he’d follow Kakashi outside of the shop and see him interacting with his small pug, Pakkun.

Most importantly, Gai had fallen head over heels in love with Kakashi specifically because he was such a dork. It was rare to find someone as passionate as Kakashi was, with a good balance of coolness to balance out that dorky nature.

“Well, maybe if you like this book you can come back for another visit,” he held the book out towards Naruto. “And then I can read a story and you can tell us who has the better voices.”

“Gai, are you challenging me?” Kakashi tilted his head. “I’ll have you know i put on great voices for the stories.”

A smile stretched across Gai’s face. He’d always loved a good challenge, and there nothing he wouldn’t do to win. Even if his competition was the prettiest man he had ever laid eyes upon, Gai wasn’t going to sit back and lose.

‘Wait’ his brain screeched to a hault as he processed what Kakashi had said. ‘Was that a compliment? Did he compliment himself?’

It seemed impossible, but Gai was certain he’d heard Kakashi right.

Not only was it a compliment, but it was cocky. For the first time since Kakashi had walked through the door into his little bookshop, Gai heard something new.

An arrogance he’d never thought he would hear in Kakashi’s voice.

It was exciting.

“A Competition,” he declared, determined to hear more of that arrogance if he could. “One i will easily win.”

His words were met with laughter. Sweet, brilliant laughter. Something he had hoped to hear during Kakashi’s last visit, but which had been sadly lacking due to the terrible day he’d had.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” He held out a hand and took the book when Naruto offered it to him. “I won’t lose easily, even if you’re cute.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Kakashi’s entire face lit up in a brilliant shade a red. Something Gai had never seen before.

“Gross,” Naruto bulked at the scene before him. “You’re worse than dad.”

A competition, a laugh, three blushes, and a kid who might actually compete with Lee for the title of Gai’s favorite. In one short visit Kakashi had gifted him all of those things without even intending too.

Gai had thought he was in love before, but now he was certain of it. There was no one in the world better than Hatake Kakashi.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to lose. He’d have to work on his character voices so that he could secure the win and earn his total as the ultimate creator of ‘story voices’.

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

A Rival Most Vial - Book Review

Oh gosh, where do I start? I loved it. Let's make that clear. Ok, I'll begin with my one gripe before my overwhelming praise takes over because I cannot wait for more in this series.

R.K. Ashwick's second trilogy begins with this book, as The Stray Spirit began their first trilogy and was their debut novel as an indie author last year. Two books in so little time! I could never be that fast! Both are highly recommended by me so I wanted to mention the other book, now, let's pop open this juicy dumpling of fantasy fiction, shall we?

The one gripe is Ambrose and Eli are at odds for a good third of the book or so, and I mean heavily. As spoiler light as possible, events go from a boiling point that breaks the rules of the street their shops are on, then in the same day a character begins to look at the other with a wholly different kinda boiling point. -tugs collar- Ahem. As I said, the quick change left a bit of whiplash for me personally, but it's my only complaint for this wonderful novel that also captured my heart and made me tear up once or twice.

Ambrose is by far my favorite. I relate to his closed off nature, and boy does he also have good reasons for it. He's intelligent, gifted in his craft even, dedicated, and all mushy inside if you can get past that icy blue exterior of his. Eli, on the other hand, took me a minute to get on board with, though I have to admit the cutest automaton ever, Tom, and her wonderfully depicted stabby feet, mug body, fork arms, and broom head helped warm me to him. Eli has severe wanderlust and gets bored of things easily, though he is also incredibly gifted. He's reckless, but he's charming and bears good intentions.

All the characters are wonderful, really, but I won't name them all here and let you discover them yourself. They make themselves very much known in the first chapter after all. Big personalities and bigger hearts, these shopkeeps all stick together through thick and thin, even though some may make some really rash calls at times. In a magical world with exploding moss, dragons, and venomous moths that shoot deadly spikes the length of your arm, any rash choice could be deadly.

The romance is golden and the details on the kisses and awkwardness being described from both sides of the blooming relationship between Ambrose and Eli is just -mwah-. Ambrose is uncertain of a first relationship and so concerned with timing and averages like any A type personality would be, while Eli is tender with him and doesn't wish to push too far, all the while not knowing Ambrose may want just that. There is a short sex scene, but it's very blurry in depictions of physicality and hones in more on the back and forth and emotions between the two. I thought this was a good choice for this type of story, and it blended well to the emotional beats at the time.

The world-building, just like The Stray Spirit, is so carefully thought out, planned, drawn up in wonderful in book art, and exudes so much of Ashwick's character that you could tell it was an R.K. Ashwick book even without the name on the cover if you read their debut. Each of these worlds is mesmerizing and brings me back to when I would eat through fantasy books by the dozen. It's whimsical, but dangerous enough you have to root for the characters and fear for them at times genuinely. As Ambrose goes over his potion instructions and shortcuts to his partner on the commission, each detail feels like it just came from an actual text on the subject. I can't wait to discover more of this world.

Can we also state how gorgeous that cover is while I still have your attention? The colors pop so well! The details are stunning and I love the little silhouettes of our main duo with those tiny hearts above their heads.

All in all, this is my long-winded approach to saying GO BUY THIS BOOK! I assure you it is worth the time and money spent to travel through this world with these loveable fools.

This is an arc read and I’m leaving a review voluntarily. This review is honest all the same and I jumped at the chance to be an arc reader after reading The Stray Spirit shortly after it's launch. I've followed this project's growth even longer than that, and I am so happy to say I am so satisfied with how this turned out.

[ericszhon]

THE BOYZ for W Korea Vol. 11 • Eric Full Interview

Translated by @.tbzwangdeuls / Oktober 2024.

<W Korea> Hello, this is Eric of THE BOYZ who is in charge of 'visual' and 'height'.

"That's right, I'm Eric who's in charge of visual.....nope. Just joking!"

How have you been spending your days lately? It seems like you're about to get busy.

"Honestly, I feel like I'm going through days that aren't as happy as they would be. It's not that I am unhappy but more of, 'I could have been happier but why am I not?' The members. and the fans know how satisfied I am with my job. But even so, I don't know why I feel like this. It's strange. I am just trying to make an effort to be happier."

It's surprising to hear something like that from someone as passionate as Eric. But isn't happiness something you can attain if you try to force it?

"I think it takes effort to be happy too. My situation these days is like this: I'm reading a book but I have to leave for a bit, so I put a bookmark and close it. Then, when I came back, the bookmark seemed to have disappeared. I can't even remember where I left off. It feels like I am wandering aimlessly in the wilderness."

Have you thought of how will you spend your time that makes you feel comfortable or feel good?

"Although the tour made me physically tired I was happy, and I also have happy memories when I was working on music...but I'm still looking for it. I went for a two-hour (2) walk the other day and while walking, I kept thinking, 'How can I be happy?' I just, think of it as something like a passing rain."

Do you write in between work?

"Sometimes. I often (write it) in my memo. I do it whenever I think of something, like when I was on the plane for the tour, I was watching a movie when I heard a good script and I wrote it down. Do you want to hear it?"

"I first started to write a poem to please a girl. She loves poetry. And I love her." (...) "I might be embarrassed tomorrow for what I wrote today, but I never regretted it. Words are similar to the traces of love."

Ah, I think I've watched that movie too...

"It's a Korean drama called <Single in Seoul>. I actually didn't intend to write it down in my memo but when I heard the part, 'I have never regretted it, I replayed that part, and wrote those down. I might get embarrassed tomorrow but as long as I do my best today...l totally can resonate with that."

It feels like the emphasis is not on the 'love' aspect but rather on the 'attitude towards life', right?

"I am known as a passionate person, even the fans recognize that but it's just like how the bookmark disappeared. There are times when I want to write down lines like "Where am I right now. And I like romance movies. My favorite movie is <The Notebook>. I heard there will be a re-make of it soon, right? Movies like that make me cry so much. It's because I'm an F."

Do you have this kind of mood or personality whenever you talk with your mom who lives in LA?

"I actually talked with my mom on the way to the shoot today after a long time. I don't talk about things like this with my mom but there's something she usually tells me after we talk and before we end the call, "You have to be busy, Youngjae-ya." Yes, I have to keep myself moving without taking a break, it's ok even if I can't get some sleep. If the time I spend alone gets too long, I feel like I am trapped in my own world."

How's working on your mixtape or on music? Working on your songs one by one and as they accumulate, when you look at it next time will give you a sense of security.

"I only uploaded my mixtape <22> on Soundcloud on my birthday. My motif then was '22' and when you combine those two numbers, it will create a heart, so I chose love as the theme. It consists of three tracks that talk about bright love, melancholic love, and my own style of love. I also got a tattoo of the number 22, which is in the shape of a heart. This may sound cheesy, but I don't get much inspiration these days."

When I see boy groups, being close doesn't necessarily mean they talk a lot. However, it seems like THE BOYZ communicates a lot amongst yourselves. While you are searching for your happiness, do you share your thoughts/feelings with them?

"Of course. We all gather around in our waiting room and have some talk 30 minutes before we come on stage. Whether in the hotel or wherever it is, we meet when someone says, 'Let's gather. That's why the amount of conversation amongst us accumulated tremendously. Throughout those times, we were able to confirm that we were looking in the same direction."

What do you think are the necessary things to have for a group to last long?

"It's (to have) Eric (laughs). It's not a joke, and I mean it. Of course, that doesn't mean that other members don't have sincerity. I have a lot of affection too. I might not seem like it, but I have a lot of affection, you know? So there's a lot of affection within the team too. Of course, having an occasional rift in the team is inevitable, but at those times, I try to hold on to the affection that we have and keep my head in the game. It's not just the role I have to take, but each member takes turns fulfilling that role. Putting aside my pride, it might sound cliche, but we must have a "united heart." Trust alone is not enough. Even if we all have our own sense of trust with each other, if everyone is not in the same direction, then it will be difficult to sustain a long-term relationship. Of course, not all 11 of us can have the same goals or dreams; it's possible. But ultimately, our hearts are united, and that matters. We all know very well that we need each other."

You recently had a world tour. Did you feel something different compared to the past tours?

"I felt it very much. As I had to take a break during the tour in 2022, I couldn't participate. That's why this is my first time doing a tour in the U.S. since my debut. My family home is in the U.S, but it's only now that I am doing a tour there. It's also been a long time since we did a tour in Europe. Since I took a break from touring unlike other members, I could feel how the scale-venue and fandom-wise increased greatly. While touring in the U.S., I was finally able to invite my friends living in LA to watch the concert, and I was really happy to spend some time with the members and enjoy our stay in the States."

What kind of feelings do you have now that the new album is fast approaching?

"We have our own colors that we've shown already, and this might be the final look of that narrative. For example, it is like preparing for a short haircut after dyeing the long hair I've been growing. Next time, I could show up with a completely different style, starting from the midpart (of the hair). The desire to break free from this change. For your hair to grow, you have to trim it from time to time, right? So I want to break from this style/mold and try something new. The other members would probably feel the same. Other members would probably feel the same."

If the members talk a lot amongst themselves, you must know each other well. Who is the person that is most different from Eric?

"Although Q hyung is quite different from me, if it's work-wise, I'd say it's Sunwoo. I am ENFJ, you know, with 99% J. I felt at ease when I thought everything out in advance and calculated everything well. I also imagine all sorts of scenarios from a person's tone or gaze, which, yes, can be overwhelming at times. There are moments when I wish I could be reborn. From Sunwoo's perspective, I wouldn't be seen as someone very cool. But I am the person who has the LA vibes... but the two of us can have a 5-hour conversation over mango juice and a cup ramyeon."

It was mentioned that you are swimming upstream like a salmon. Why so?

"It's not only a comparison with a salmon. Was it like.... a yellowtail fish? Flatfish? Ah, a sunfish! I said I'm like the mix of a salmon and a sunfish (laughs). The sunfish is known to die easily if it bumps into something or gets surprised. It's a fish that seems to die from just anything it does."

It's quite strange, isn't it. The more I listen, the more I feel the love between the two of you. Sunwoo talked a lot about Eric. You two also did unit activities together.

"I think Sunwoo's analogy isn't that wrong. I tend to get hurt on the things that I should not. During those times, I lean on the members. Sunwoo is a member I also lean on. Our 'Honey' unit only has good memories in it. The song and choreography were good, the music production was nice, and the promotion was enjoyable. When 11 of us perform together for about three (3) minutes, it's hard to show each one of our charms properly every time. I also heard from the fans how they started to see me differently and became interested because of that song. It was when I was filming for the <Genius Paik Season 2 in Spain when I got a call from Sunwoo. He's not the style who will call you first but he said, "I think we definitely have to do this."

What do you like about yourself when you think about it?

"It's the sincerity I have. I don't hold back when it comes to expressing my sincerity. To me, the concept of doing something half-heartedly doesn't exist. I want to give my best in everything that I do, whether it's for work, working out, love, or whatever it is. I'm already the type of person who tends to stress myself out, and if I don't give my all in something and really regret it, then I won't be able to bear it."

Sincerity and doing your best goes are two things that go hand in hand. You have no regrets when do your best.

"Yes, those two things are connected. Just like what Sunwoo mentioned, I sometimes swim upstream with my busy thoughts, but when I want to reach the point where I originally wanted to get to, I don't fool around. I think it's the same thing. When the company's concept differs from what I envisioned, I try to talk it out to persuade them and find common ground. I want to convince them. If the result of that effort is good, I can't help but feel happy. Even when we are practicing our choreographies while. others are doing well, I insist on our dance teacher to let us practice more. I'm like that kid who raises their hand and asks, 'Teacher, aren't you going to check the homework you gave us yesterday?'. In other words, I can be bothersome and tiring sometimes. Although I am also someone whose existence is essential in a group, I know I can be hard on myself sometimes, but I am not giving up."

[imaseawitch]

Ok so I haven't read much fiction lately and my sisters have been begging me to read the Throne of Glass series. I'm 50 pages in and so far I think it sucks so much ass. If you like it, please just ignore this post and move on. I would like to have a discussion with the haters, please.

Also, can someone please suggest good fantasy books that are just like...the opposite of this book, please? Long descriptions of magic systems, wildlife, history, political factions, and trade of various regions...you know...fantasy stuff?

Like, the characters talk about how hot they are constantly, which is frustrating. Please describe the characters and I will decide if they are hot.

So far I'm not grasping anyone's motivations...like, why hasn't Celaena killed someone and made a break for it yet? She certainly talks enough about how she wants to and how she totally could. And they even say she made a suicidal escape attempt, so it's not like she's afraid to die...and why is she willing to work for the same people she was previously assassinating?

Anyway, here's a collection of some of the lines I hate the most so far:

"It was true that she had been attractive once, beautiful even, but--well, it didn't matter now, did it?" Barf. Vomit. This is on page 2.

"Yet there was something in his eyes, strikingly blue--the color of the waters of the southern countries--and the way they contrasted with his raven-black hair that made her pause. He was achingly handsome, and couldn't have been older than twenty.

Princes are not supposed to be handsome! They're sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures...this one...this... How unfair or him to be royal and beautiful." I'm trying so hard to kill the part of me that cringes, but I am cringing. This feels like I'm reading a kid's diary.

"Beneath her nightgown, her ribs reached out from inside of her, showing bones where flesh and meat should have been. And her breasts! Once well-formed, they were now no larger than they'd been in the midst of puberty." I almost quit reading at this line. Barf. Hard. Truly the worst line.

"...the captain stepped behind her, so close that his knees grazed the folds of her forest-green velvet cape. It would take all of two movements to disarm him." And then she doesn't. She has moments like this often. I would diagnose them as delusions of grandeur if she were a real person. It's like the author has to keep reminding me that she's super badass, but can't actually show me her doing anything badass? Why doesn't she just do something badass??

"However, the unbearable urge to splatter someone across the wall lessened when they brought her a piebald mare to ride." This one is confusing because I really can't tell throughout the book so far if she enjoyed being an assassin or was forced into it? Also it's just...childish? Surface level emotions. Again, she does not actually do anything.

"Celaena couldn't keep her eyes from the castle. She felt so small, even from far away. She'd forgotten how dwarfing the building was." I just hate the phrasing of that last sentence so much, with the passive voice, and especially the use of the word "dwarfing." Let me tell you, if there are dwarves in this world, this line is gonna piss me off even more.

"There was something sad about her--sitting so still with her legs against her chest, the moonlight coloring her hair silver. [...] He found her beautiful, if a bit strange and sour. It was something in the way that her eyes sparked when she looked at something lovely in the landscape. He couldn't understand it." Barf. Ugh. I hate every character so far. Is this fantasy? Or romance? I thought I was getting fantasy.

"She knew how she appeared, seated atop a horse like some prize lady being brought to the castle. So Celaena only smiled at them, tossed her hair, and batted her eyelashes at the prince's back." Barf. Why? Also, is she not chained? Why doesn't she fucking run?

"'I don't know how you can sleep at night with only a wall of glass keeping you from death.' [...] 'Then you're like me.' Dorian chuckled. 'Thank the gods I gave you rooms in the stone castle. I'd hate for you to be uncomfortable.'" God even without the stilted dialogue...a castle of glass is just patently stupid. Tell me, why isn't your home made of glass? Because you don't want your neighbors to see your peepee. That's what a real character would say: "I don't know how you change clothes at night with only a wall of glass keeping your neighbors' eyes from your peepee."

"She beheld the billiards cues along the far wall, and the heavy colored balls stacked on the green felt table, and grinned. Chaol wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was." Right before this she literally made a shiv out of old hairpins she found in the back of a drawer. She didn't even bother to look in the next room where they left her actual weapons. Have you ever hefted a pool ball? They're fucking weapons. And pretty much every movie with a biker bar scene has proven that pool cues are weapons. So yeah, Chaol is fucking stupid. But not as stupid as fucking Celaena for not actually using any of these fucking weapons!!!

"Celaena pivoted, the yards of cumbersome fabric twisting with her. Her corset--the stupid, cursed thing--pushed on her ribs so hard the breath was sucked from her. This is why she mostly preferred tunics and pants." Historically inaccurate corset depiction! Also she's Not Like Other Girls TM. Barf. Like, what did she do back before her breasts shrunk in prison? She was just assassinating people with her "well-formed" breasts flapping around? As someone with "well-formed" breasts, you gotta contain those things to maintain an active lifestyle. Enter the corset. Don't get me fucking started.

"But Dorian, tall, toned, and elegant, bore no resemblance to [his father] [...] And then there was the matter of Dorian's sapphire eyes--not even his mother had his eyes. No one knew where they came from." You can't figure out my eyes rn either because I'm rolling them so hard. I wonder if the crown prince looking nothing like his father the king will have any significance later on. I'm probably the first person ever to think anything of it.

"'If you court her, the consequences will not be pleasant. Not from her, and not from me.'

'And if I condescend to associate with her, what would you do, father? Throw me in the mines as well?'" Barf-o-rama. The language is like a parody of old-timey language. Just the fact that they're just so obviously going to bang that even the prince's wicked 'father' (wink wink, see above) already knows. God. Disgusting.

[moononastring]

dark verse is on my e-reader right now, but i'm currently taking a mafia break and reading king of wrath by ana huang before i dive back into mafia junk lol. i'll probably read sinners anonymous first before tackling the dark verse series. another on my tbr is perfectly imperfect series by neva altaj. have you read it?

i also read the brutal birthright series and yeah it was meh. like the first 2 books i thought were pretty good, but i was super let down when i read book 3 cause i remember this particular brother was hyped up so much as this unhinged crazy dude and it was like the most tame romance with a bit of bank heist shenanigans lol. and yeah from there the "mafia" stuff seemed to just kind of fade away until the last book. overall kind of a disappointing series after really enjoying the first 2 books.

agree, cora reilly books are not the most well written. they are super predictable, but the characters definitely had me in a chokehold (gianna and matteo my god!) . and 1000% cannot recommend twisted emotions enough. nino and kiara are so sweet and hot and i stan hard (though i would check trigger warnings before reading). i will say the last 2 books in the camorra chronicles were pretty disappointing imo, but maybe you'll enjoy them? a stand alone of her's i love is sweet temptation and it features side characters from twisted emotions (and canonically happens before TE fyi).

i also read the kings of italy series by mila finelli recently... it's ok. it's very light on the mafia stuff. i actually enjoyed book 4 the most which is m|m romance if you were interested. i'm going to give rina kent another try cause i really did love 3/4 of those books in the empire series so i'm going to try the deception trilogy she has. if those are also bleh then i'll move on.

Oh I feel that haha! I have to space them out unless I'm hella in the mood for it but I've been on a romance kick for over a year now. Can't remember the last fantasy I read tbh...but no, I haven't read the Perfectly Imperfect series! I don't think I've heard of the author.

But ayyy I really enjoyed King of Wrath! I like Ana Huang's series! They're fun and easy to stay engaged with. Did you also read her Twisted series? They still got me in a chokehold 🫡

For Twisted Emotion, do I need to read book one first or can I skip it and go on to book two without missing out on everything? 6 books is a commitment so I'll have to see how I feel haha.

I just saw a mutual's rating for the Deception series book one and she did not like it 😂 but yeah, see how you feel!

[anakimz]

while the entire oneshot is obv chef's kiss and would reread every word for a heartbeat, i would love to focus on two paragraphs that felt stood out the most!

“Oh, Eddie…” you muttered to yourself. How bad had it gotten?

i feel like this line is overlooked for how short it seems. but man this was personally one of the creepiest and anticipating lines ever?!?

there were probably a hundred things going on in the reader's mind, unlike for us who had a foresight of how or what their inevitable fate / doom would look like.

i love details like these because i just essentially love imagery and emotions in writing! not just the plot but the overall feels it gives and how it makes us, the audience, feel a rollercoaster of emotions and eventually ending up sad¿ because we know we can't do anything to change their next move/plan of action.

scenes like these in cliche horror movies (when characters make regrettable decisions that will most likely lead to their doom) are something i like, while most people don't because the rationale behind it is that "well who in their right mind would proceed to do that?!"

but i just love those because it makes it all the more human!

with that, the way the reader worries for ed, questioning how bad it had gotten was something so terrifying yet sick in the head?! (also probably despairing)

am i overthinking this?!? probably! i just love the way rosie writes these scenes that seem unnoticed. :")

It was like he didn’t hear you, because he didn’t stop, mesmerized by the path his hand was carving over your hip to the meat of your thigh. “I used to jerk off thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you.” He chuckled. “Hell, if I’m being honest, I still do.”

this just made me pure hor-nee

10/10 i love my incel riddler bark bark

literally kept all this hornee potential throughout the years they were together. what a man 🤓😔🥺

hope he drowns me in his cvm

skinny love

Summary: Edward Nashton was your best friend, and now your roommate, ever since the orphanage. But when you accidentally end up doing some detective work of your own, you uncover his secret double life and realize he’s not at all who you thought he was.

Pairing: Edward Nashton x reader

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Non-con, incel mindset, creepy behavior, slight sexism

A/N: i’m back on my dc bullshit because i saw the batman and absolutely loved it (i mean, anyone who knows me saw this coming). so, expect more to come in the future! maybe a series? maybe some bruce wayne? who knows?

You were halfway through a bottle of wine and almost asleep when the front door creaked open. You blinked awake enough to see Edward tiptoe into the apartment, slipping off his shoes by the door before sneaking off to his room.

“Finally, he shows!” you crowed, your voice groggy with sleep and your words slurring together.

Your voice made him stop in his tracks. “You’re still up?”

“I was waiting for you, don’t you know?” You propped yourself up on your elbows. “You missed movie night. You never miss movie night.”

He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. We’re training new employees at the office. They messed up the accounts, so I had to stay late fixing them.” He raked his fingers through his russet locks.

You grumbled and narrowed your eyes at him. There was something practiced about his exasperation, like it was all some farce. He’d been coming home later than usual, working longer hours, and although he was always apologetic and told you a perfectly valid excuse, there was something in his clear, glassy eyes that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Keep reading

[lilacshouko]

We Need a Little Romance In Life

Warning(s): bad grammar 😭 I’m trying to fix within my abilites | Update: unkown | Webtoon heavy (follow webtoon with a change here and there) | OC centric (Female)-but you can think however you want.

masterlist | next

Chapter 1

Enjoy! ><

A huge greenhouse look-alike

A very very handsome-beautiful Platinum haired, blue-eyed young man, received a call.

In front of the man, known as Kartein, stood a young woman in her early 20 that had the same feature as the Kartein, but was more feminine and soft.

She is the one and only Kartein’s adorable precious treasure, Claris.

—

“Was it…Kayden?”

Claris asked as she poured a newly brewed tea for her Brother. Kartein thanked her and took a sip before answering, 

“The one and only”

“What did he want?”

“...Heal..”

“Him? So the rumor is true, he’s injured?”

“I’m not sure, but he will teach me his force control”

 Claris makes an ‘o’ … She knows Kayden. Kayden Break. The conceited, arrogant, fighting maniac that fortunately backed up with his outstanding power…and brain.

And his handsome face, plus body.

BUT! Brother Kartein is still the best!' - Clari's inner heart -

‘I hope it’s nothing too serious… although he said he will tell Brother his Force Control…and I guess, I will be visiting Korea much much sooner than I planned’

—

Korea, Jiwoo’s hospital room.

‘I spoke too soon. THIS IS SERIOUS! BEYOND SERIOUS! THIS IS FATAL!’ 

Here, the trio of renowned awakeners stood in front of the patient, Seo Jiwoo, a.k.a Kayden’s Disciple.

Claris is the only one with a pale face, all colors drained from her face. She did know before she met the boy, so she’s prepared but also likes to think that maybe Kayden misdiagnosed or whatever it is, since he’s not a healer. He sucks at it. 

“Jiwoo, this is Kartein the best healer, and his younger sister, Claris also a healer, second only to this man” Kayden introduced Brother and I. Half-heartedly.

“Uh, Uhm. Hello…” 

Ok, Claris may be well-mannered, a soft-spoken person, and looks timid, which is not wrong but also not true. She can be blunt and have no mercy.

She shot a half-hearted glare toward Kayden. The young boy greeted her and her brother back. Turning her gaze towards the main focus of the day, Seo Jiwoo.

She took note of how his core are shattered by his physical wound.

‘His Core are shattered very carefully that it will be a challenge to fix….no…it’s more like impossible to be fixed. However, his arms, whoever did fix his arms did a good job. Was it Dr.Delein, the one that did that experiment…despite his questionable experiment, his skill is no joke….I guess I’ll visit him.’

While Claris is busy with her thoughts, Kayden, Kartein, and Jiwoo talk about the possible core fixing. The two awakened leave the room since Jiwoo asked to talk with Kartein alone. Claris decided to follow Kayden out.

Kartein soundproofs the room, but Claris and Kayden can still hear the conversation, seeing that Kartein doesn’t make it tight.

“Kayden…”

The blue-haired man glance at the platinum-haired woman and shrugged.

She sigh. Knowing this man for years now, she knows this man like an open book. Kayden tend to hide his inner feeling..not that he had one…more like, sometimes…ok…more than sometimes, he doesn’t share his feeling much like brother (Kartein). Kayden and Kartein are more similar than they would like and acknowledge, in front of that, deep down both know and understand each other like blood-related siblings. Claris that grow up and was raised by Kartein, ends up able to read Kayden’s too. After all, Kayden is like another brother to her. An annoying one, that is. 

The door opened, The best healers come out. 

“Brother”

Claris immediately went to his side, holding his arm. Kartein look straight to Kayden.

“Aren’t you (them, technically) bring too obvious when eavesdropping?”

“...” Kayden just keeps silent.

“Take us to your place”

Claris look shocked, and the freeloader..also look shocked “HUH!!?”

“It took us days to get here. We need rest, don’t you think? After all, we are here because of you”

The trio walked away to Kayden’s place….also known as Jiwoo’s house.

It’s a spacious, modern house.

Kayden opened the front door, Claris behind him, Kartein the last one

“You’re staying here?”

“Yup”

Claris took note of other living beings inside the house, she peered from Kayden’s back and spotted 3 adorable cats and another one on the sofa.

“CATS!!”

“Cats?!”

Claris looks excited, while Kartein just looks at the cats..loss of words.

He never imagined that the infamous Kayden Break would own…or even take care of an animal. He is already a handful after all. But, who he is to judge, without Claris, Kartein probably will have a bit of a hard time managing his work or research. 

See, the two of them are more similar, unbeknownst to themselves and their denial.

“Kayden, are you sure you didn’t hit your head somewhere?” Kartein for sure can’t believe what he is seeing right now.

“Why?”

“It's just so weird…the cats..”

“So?”

“I just couldn’t imagine you being a cat person to suit your image..”

“What are you even saying?”

Kayden stood up and walked towards the Kitchen, to give food to the cats.

Claris giggled.

But then, blue flashes from the kitchen. Just at the right timing, Kartein and Claris watched it unfold.

Both are shocked.

The great infamous Kayden Break turned into a cat, a big cat.

‘At least he’s cute now’ Claris thought, then redirected her eyes to see how her brother would react.

You see, Kartein is someone that you could say is a ‘mad scientist’ thought, he’s not into that level, not like Dr.Delein. Kartein is just very eager and knowledge starved if that is a word. He loves to get new things on his hands.

Claris walked herself out of the crime scene and sat on the sofa, watching her brother and Catyden (Kayden as a cat) having a conversation. Already get the ideas of what will happen.

Her brother then sits next to her, in deep thought, same as Kayden. Well, Kayden looks more like, a bit wary at Kartein's unexpected reaction.

Claris hold her laughter. 

Watching the two, as they have a conversation turns into a sort-of negotiation.

‘He doesn’t want to change back?…hmmm…Kayden is indeed moody, but, he did sustain an injury, I think, he couldn't change back is more appropriate. But then, It’s not exactly my business, If Brother decided to learn and changed to a cat, he wouldn’t have a problem easily transforming back-to-back…’

She noticed that Kartein clenched his fist in anger.

‘Brother…sometimes, I can’t help but worry about you. You’re smart but also can be an idiot. BUT THAT'S WHAT MAKES BROTHER CUTE AND AWESOME!!!’

Claris sighed and decided to just take a nap or sleep. Using her brother as a pillow.

She vaguely hears the reason why Jiwoo refuses the treatment, and how Kartein wants the technique that Kayden used to turn himself into a cat.

‘Yes, I should just sleep’

——-

The next day, The trio visits Jiwoo again to start the healing process or treatment. 

He refused, of course. Watching the comedic interaction between Kartein, Kayden, and the innocent Jiwoo…. was gold. Claris already noticed that the technique isn’t important for Kayden, but knowing her Brother is already obsessed with it, he won’t change his mind. After all, Kayden and Kartein's circumstances are different.

Unfortunately, Jiwoo had another attack (aftershocks). Thankfully, Kayden was quick to act, and so was her Brother. 

She decided to assist at the beginning of the healing process, while Jiwoo was still out cold. She has full confidence in Kartein's ability, but healing the broken…shattered core…not an easy job, and to make the process faster, Claris will heal other injuries to make the process smoother, so Kartein will focus only on fixing the core.

“Hehe..” Claris couldn’t help but giggle, remembering how Jiwoo refused.

“?”

“Ah, no, It’s just that he’s as stubborn as Kayden. He is still a good boy thru and through”

“Ha, one Kayden in the world is enough, don’t you think? Claris supports me until we're finished. I need you to give support for his core so the healing will be faster.” Kartein sighs and gives a soft smirk to Claris. The shorter platinum-haired awakener gives a big smile,

“Of course, Brother!”

The two fall into silent, full concentration. Knowing that Kayden is protecting them, Claris can fully support Kartein. Under different circumstances, usually, Claris will be the one that protects Kartein during the healing process, since he will be off-guard.

—-

Outside Jiwoo’s room

Kayden on guard noticed Yoo Jiyoung and Goo Inhyuk from Shinhwa came. Kayden and Jiyoung talked until the topic changed to the broken core,

“I have never heard anyone being able to get their core fixed.”

“Same here. After all, once a core is smashed, it’s the end. But Kartein said he can. Besides, Claris is known to have shattered the awakener's core during her first debut as world rankers. I’m sure it’s not impossible for them”

“Lady Claris also here?!”

“She’s attached to his hip. Besides, I believe in Kartein's abilities, as well as Claris”

Inside Jiwoo’s room, Kartein’s face became softer and a small smile adorned his beautiful face. Claris notices that and smiles.

‘Well, it was the past, now no one challenges me anymore. Tho, I will have to thank my past enemies, because I got lots of knowledge from the shattered core that now we can fix it. As long as no foreign energy in there’

----

Taglist: (comment on masterlist post)

@kreishin

[an-angel-in-the-garden]

Dating the Obey Me! boys

So I had surgery yesterday and have to be stuck in my room not doing much for a bit so I plan to try and write lots of things and I thought why not start with Obey Me. Hope you enjoy, these are also kinda short since it was so many people! CW: Spoilers and slightly dark

Lucifer

Dating Lucifer is a bit of a struggle at the start

He's headstrong and cruel even to those he care's about so it can be hard to get into a relationship with him

Once that bond is formed however its a different story though he is still blunt and a bit harsh he's more open

He enjoys classic dates candle lit dinners walks under the moon or swaying in his office with his records on

Lucifer adores when you visit him in his office just to spend time with him while he works

Not much PDA but not fully against it will wrap an arm around your waist and might kiss your head if he's feeling really soft that day

Supportive even if he's harsh he wants the best for you in his eyes you deserver the world and then some

Mammon

Mammon is very open about his feelings

Not good with PDA gets very embarrassed but loves it all the same

Will spend money on you without really thinking about it he wants to you everything and in his eyes money is everything

He gets you involved with many schemes but also does everything in his power to not let you get hurt

If any of his siblings are having a bad day and it gets taken out on you he steps in and will swing if needed

Speaking of siblings they dont treat him that well and though he tends to put on a front you kindness to him means so much he can and will cry

Soft just wants you happy your smile makes him feel special and truly loved so he wants you to feel the same

Leviathan

This is a roller coaster that's for sure

Leviathan is a tsundere on the surface but once in a relationship he's a bit more yandere then one might think

With that Levi is very tameable quelling any jealousy of another he might have is simple just give him affection

He can not handle PDA he blushes freaks out and might even faint if people are around

Indoor dates in his aquarium room and also gaming together or watching anime

Though he's not one to enjoy the outdoors if you want to go on a public date all you need to do is ask

Parise for him is heavenly you telling him he's done well or that he makes you happy means he world to him

Satan

Getting into a relationship with Satan is a friends to lovers kinda story he need so much trust to know he can be truly honest with you

Its very give and take he wants this to have the same importance on both side

Café dates often to a cat café and if you allergic dont worry he has a spell for that

Will show off your relationship to everyone

Enjoy soft PDA i.e. hand holding an arm around the waist forehead kisses etc.

Really loves talking with you about books whether about a book you both have read or simply you listening as he goes on about one he likes, Satan also loves hearing you talks about your interest

Hell protect you with his life you're someone who let him feel more then just anger someone who loves him for himself and its all he really wanted

Asmodeus

Dating Asmodesu is not easy and there's a chance it will never be a healthy relationship

He's flirts alot and that's something you have to get use to but Asmo try's very hard to never take it to far once your together

Love PDA will always want to be all over you and hopes you feel the same

Shopping dates are a must in his eyes and of you ever feel self conscious he does his best to help

Talks about you non stop to anyone and everyone he's happy your in his life but in the end his sin makes it quite hard to ever be in a fully committed relationship

Spoils you so much, wants you to live in luxury like him after all someone as perfect as you deserves it

The genuine affection and love is something new to him its something he never thought he would have so when you entered his life he felt you could only ever make things brighter and he plans to always be there for you

Beelzebub

This is a relationship that develops without much thought

It becomes a habit for Beel to share his food with you or to seek you out just to be with you for a while

At some point its pointed out how you both act and Beelzebub confesses

Dates are common and its often food date going to new and old places he thinks you would like

Not great at planning things but if you have something you want to do or talk about he's all in

Very soft with you though its not often that hell innate PDA or anything he's always up to reciprocate it

A gentle giant who wants you safe and happy even if it means sharing his snacks

Belphegor

This is a full slow burn with his hatred of humans and his lack of trust its not an easy ride

Being with him takes a while starting as just people to friends to maybe more to lovers its a drawn out thing

No PDA he just doesn't handle it well however at the house or alone he's very affectionate

You all go on dates rarely as he's not one for going out and would rather spend quite time with you at home

One of his favorite things to do with you is laze around while you talk about your day or things you've been into lately

Will always make sure you have a good nights sleep if your someone prone to bad dreams he can help with that

Though the relationship with him starts a little rocky he treasures you more then he might admit and he happy you gave him a chance

Diavolo

Another friends to lovers and a little forbidden on top of that but you two make it work

It starts as just him being overly interested in the human world and not so slowly he starts to take interest in just you

Diavolo spoils you when he can you've given him so much and he wants to give back

Loves PDA but knows that he has to reel it in due to him tittle so he settles for just holding your hand

Is a very soft demon for you wanting to make you're as comfortable as you can be

Really enjoys when you visit him even if it just you popping in to say hi it just brightens his day

Being in a relationship wit Diavolo isn't easy it takes alot to keep up with everything but he's never been happier then with you by his side

Barbatos (I love him so much so his is slightly longer)

A slow burn and secret relationship full of its ups and downs yet its something he wouldn't trade for anything

The start of the relationship is slow and honestly it doesn't even seem like your dating he's still closed off only being polite when you two are together

It takes him far longer then you would think for him to realize how much that hurts you he hasn't been wit someone for so long if ever he's not use to it

Once you break that barrier things are smoother he's willing to be open with you alone giving you affection when you ask and even sometimes acting with out you saying anything

Barbatos thinks about you alot when he's working always wanting to know what your up to and how your feeling

Wont want to tell anyone he takes his work very seriously and doesn't want that to ever be at risk but on top of that he knows some people dont like him and if they know about you well he doesn't want to think about that

Refuses to look into your future he knows he wont be able to handle what hell see

It a relationship that takes time and sometime it seems like it might slip away but he's always there and he strives to be with you and make you happy just please give him all your love too

Simeon

A story tale romance most the time but one that almost seems impossible to keep

He's the perfect gentlemen sweet moonlight date or strolls through a garden, holding the door open or offering you his coat

With that it might seem like you never see the real him just the person/angle that he wants you to see someone perfect

Once you two have been together a few months hell start to really open up letting you see his more mischievous side and even talking about the pain from when the others fell

Simeon will always be there for you and when your down he wants to be someone you can lean on

The two of you in the in his room the soft lighting thanks to the fire with the only sounds in the room being the scribble of pen on paper and quite breathing making the night feel like endless bliss

He knows this relationship is dangerous if he's not careful he could fall but when you look at him eyes shinning with nothing but love he thinks maybe that wouldn't be so bad

Solomon

An almost tragic love story that much to his glee ends in happiness

He's met you in many lifetimes yet you were never his bit this time this wonderful time you choose him

The most romantic dates with Solomon anything you want he can probably get

Tried to cook for you it didn't go well but man he tried

Helps you study and will partake in your hobbies if you want

Is ok with PDA prefers the simple stuff over anything major

Is such a lovely relationship one he's spent so long waiting for and he's wont let it slip away now

[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.