#small break in between my readings for one of my classes lol to post about my favorites

[mischiefbuckley]

and the “📸: oliverstarkk” of ryan continues omg yes thank you ryan for posting 🙂‍↔️

[writtenbymkl]

good person alternative ending

please read previous parts !

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i’m posting it here to make it easier for my friend to read BUT this is an alternative ending to good person IF the confession had happened 👍 it’s not proof read or anything i kinda just typed out what i felt LOL , i’m not too happy with it but i hope someone else will enjoy :D thanks for reading !! it’s kind of a long one :>

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you sit at the lunch table with haechan and jaemin, enjoying a small break from classes. the atmosphere suddenly shifts when haechan speaks out of nowhere. his sudden declaration is surprising because he’s always been someone who had a partner by his side. he shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant as he states, “i’ve decided that i’m done with dating. it’s just truly not for me.”

jaemins looks at haechan with a skeptical expression implying he doesn’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth. you quickly intervene, smacking jaemin on the arm and saying, “come on, jaemin, we should support him!”

jaemin can’t resist teasing you and smirks, remarking, “of course you support that.”

haechan, confused by the exchange, looks back and forth between you and jaemin. sensing the tension, you shoot jaemin a warning glare, silently urging him to cut it out. if there’s anyone who let your crush slip, it would be jaemin and you can’t risk that happening.

just then, you notice mark sneak up behind haechan, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he swiftly pulls haechan’s hoodie over his head, momentarily blocking his vision. haechan whines, “that wasn’t funny, stop!”

you can’t help but burst into sudden laughter at the playful banter between them both. you can always count on mark to lift your mood. haechan pouts, feigning betrayal. “y/n, you’re supposed to be on my side, not mark’s,” he playfully complains, crossing his arms.

you apologize through your laughter, playfully rolling your eyes at the situation. “sorry, hyuck,” you say, still slightly laughing.

mark, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood, makes a comment that he thought would help you out. “boyfriend and girlfriend have to stick together though, am i right?”

your eyes widen, shooting mark a warning look, silently telling him to cut it out. haechan, now even more confused than when jaemin previously spoke, looks at mark and asks, “what about our relationship? boyfriend and girlfriend?”

mark, unaware of the implications of his words, innocently responds, “well aren't you guys dating now? i thought you were after your breakup with mihye. didn’t y/n confess?”

your world feels like it’s crumbling around you as everything is suddenly out in the open. you’re not sure where mark even had the impression that you had confessed when you had clearly told him you were never going to tell haechan. you can’t function, your mind spinning with the potential consequences. tears start welling up in your eyes, and you can’t help but fall apart at that moment.

jaemin is frozen, not knowing how to handle the situation. he tries to downplay it, but you can only focus on sensing haechan staring at you from the corner of your eye, his confusion and concern evident.

mark, realizing the gravity of his words, starts apologizing profusely, but at this point, you can’t hear anything over the uneasiness in your heart. the only thing you can do is get up and say that you have to go, not bidding anyone goodbye. both jaemin and mark try to stop you, but you run off, leaving haechan in a state of shock.

—----------------------------

the courtyard is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, golden hue on you as you sit alone on a bench. your mind swirls with thoughts of the shattered friendship between you and haechan, a longing for the days when your bond was uncomplicated.

"i wish i could just go back to when i didn't like him," you whispered, your voice carrying a tinge of sadness.

just as you resign yourself to isolation, a familiar figure quietly joins you on the bench. it's mark, wearing a weak smile that barely hides his remorse.

"hey," he greets you softly, his voice filled with apology.

you offer him a small smile in return. the weight of your recent conversation hangs heavily in the air.

"dude, i'm like really sorry," mark says, his voice tinged with regret. "i never meant for things to turn out like this. i didn't realize what I was doing. i thought that you had like confessed or something."

your kind gaze meets his, filled with understanding. "i know, mark. it's okay. i forgive you. i could never be mad at you."

gratitude washes over mark's face as he breathes a sigh of relief. "jesus, thank you. i mean it. i swear i never wanted to cause any harm. like seriously,"

you sigh, her voice laced with sadness. "i just... i hope things won’t change between me and haechan."

mark's empathy shines through as he responds, "i get it. but you know, when i mentioned it, haechan didn't seem upset. if anything, he looked... different. almost happy."

confusion fills your eyes as you search for answers. "huh? are you suggesting that he might be happy about the confession?"

mark's uncertainty is clear as he replies, "well, i mean, i don't know for sure. but maybe you should talk to him, y/n. it could clear up stuff for you both."

shaking your head, you gently decline, "no, not now. i think he needs some space to process everything. when he's ready, we'll have the chance to talk."

understanding and support shine in mark's eyes as he sighs, "yeah, i get it man. whatever you decide, i'll support you. it's between you and haechan after all."

emotions overwhelm you as you embrace mark tightly, tears welling up in your eyes. you’re just grateful to have mark as a trusting friend and someone who will always be there for you no matter what.

"thank you, mark. thank you for being such a good friend," you whisper, your voice quivering with gratitude.

mark's voice, gentle and reassuring, echoes your sentiments. "always, y/n. i'll be here for you."

just as you both share this sincere moment, another presence slips in beside you, tucking their head into your shoulder, breaking the tender atmosphere. you turn your head in surprise to find jaemin, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"what are you doing here, jaemin?" you groan playfully, a mix of annoyance and affection coloring your voice.

jaemin's mischievous grin widens as he exclaims, "group hug!"

you sigh, unable to hide a small smile. "fine, whatever. you're a good friend too, i guess. at least you weren’t the one to slip up this time." mark lets out a quick ‘hey!’ before you let out a small laugh.

—-----------------------

a week later, and you find yourself surprisingly calm without haechan by your side. the days have passed, and although you still miss him, you understand the need for space and time to process everything that has happened. it's not easy to digest the fact that your childhood best friend has harbored feelings for you for years, and the revelation has left you in a state of introspection.

haechan continues to show up to class, not letting the newfound tension affect his attendance. however, he deliberately chooses not to sit next to you and mark, opting instead for a seat on the other side. at first, it tugs at your heartstrings, a pang of sadness settling in, but you remind yourself to be understanding. haechan needs his distance, and you don't hold it against him.

in class, you find yourself seated at the back, goofing around with mark. "mark, you dummy, that's not what we're supposed to be doing," you playfully scold him, smacking his shoulder lightly.

"dude, it makes sense to me, so i'll do what i want," mark retorts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. you lean your head on mark's shoulder, seeking comfort and support. in response, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, giving you a side hug. it feels reassuring to have a friend by your side during this uncertain time.

as the minutes tick away before class begins, everyone settles into their seats, preparing for the lesson ahead. suddenly, you feel someone slide into the chair next to you. lifting your head from mark's shoulder, you're taken aback to find haechan sitting there, visibly nervous, his eyes deliberately avoiding yours. confusion fills the air, and you exchange a puzzled glance with mark, both of you uncertain about haechan's sudden presence.

"do you... mind if we talk... after this?" haechan's words come out in a hurried and anxious manner. your face drains of color, and though a myriad of thoughts race through your mind, you find yourself nodding silently, unable to form words. haechan's expression relaxes, a sense of relief washing over him, and he offers you a soft smile before turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

when the class finally comes to an end, you and mark begin to pack up your belongings. mark informs you that he has another class to attend, prompting him to bid you farewell.

"yo, i have my next class in a few. don't hesitate to shoot me a text or call, okay? i'll see you later. good luck," mark says, giving you a quick hug before making his way out.

curiosity gets the better of haechan, and he can't help but ask, "since when were you and mark so close?" he looks down, busying himself with shoving his school supplies into his backpack.

"we've always been close," you shrug, crossing your arms and waiting for him to finish his preparations.

with his backpack strapped securely on his shoulders, haechan suggests, "do you have any other classes after this? i'm done for the day." you shake your head, signaling that your schedule is clear.

"okay, let's go talk in the courtyard," haechan proposes, nodding towards the classroom door. you follow his lead as he guides you outside. as you finally arrive at the courtyard, you notice a familiar swing set from the nearby daycare. it seems like a fitting place for a heartfelt conversation. both of you take a seat on the swings, creating a momentary pause, an awkward silence hanging between you.

finally, haechan breaks the silence, his voice filled with a mix of apprehension and sincerity. "i'm sorry," he begins, his words weighted with regret. "I have a lot to apologize for, but I want to start by saying sorry for avoiding you the whole week." his gaze meets yours, guilt etched on his face. you simply shrug, finding it difficult to find the right words. deep down, you understand that all he wants to do is apologize and address any romantic implications that might have arisen.

"i'm also sorry for bringing mihye to your birthday get-together, for showing up late, and for not giving you a heads up until the last minute," he continues, his voice laced with remorse. with each apology, haechan's swinging motion gradually comes to a halt.

"it's okay," you say softly, your voice filled with forgiveness and understanding.

"and i'm mostly sorry for always burdening you every time my heart was broken," haechan adds, surprising you with his admission. your eyes widen, realizing that he perceived his emotional reliance on you as a burden. you never wanted him to feel that way. if anything, you cherished those moments when he sought solace in your presence, even if it meant jeopardizing your own happiness.

"don't ever apologize for that. that's what I'm here for, remember? never feel like a burden. I never wanted you to feel that way. it's the last thing I want," you say gently, emphasizing your unwavering support.

"it's my fault anyway," he sighs, his voice heavy with self-blame. "but that's not the only thing i want to apologize for," he continues, catching your attention. you look at him, confusion written all over your face, waiting for him to elaborate.

"can you let me apologize for hurting you?" haechan's request catches you off guard. the complexity of his emotions is evident, and he longs for your understanding and forgiveness.

“don’t start this, you didn’t hurt me, if anything i knew you would reject me from the start which is why i never wanted to say anything,” you say looking down to the ground. “so don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault you can’t have feelings for me, i totally get it.” all you can do is come clean at this point and hope that this won’t sour your relationship.

haechan's eyes widen in surprise as he listens to your words. he reaches out and gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. his eyes are filled with a mixture of regret and longing, and you can sense the sincerity in his touch.

"no, that's not it," he says softly, his voice laced with conviction. "you're wrong. it's not that i can't have feelings for you. the truth is, i've been struggling with my own emotions, trying to make sense of them all."

confusion swirls within you, but you remain silent, giving him the space to explain.

"when we first met, i felt a connection—a bond that grew deeper every day. i mean look at us now, we’re two best friends…” he says soft laughing swinging on the swing. “but i was scared that you didn’t feel the same. i didn't want to ruin what we had, so i pushed those feelings aside, and just hoped they would pass as we grew up.”

you feel a flicker of hope within you, but it's quickly overshadowed by caution. the vulnerability in haechan's eyes is undeniable, yet you're afraid to let yourself believe that he could reciprocate your feelings.

“but what about the people you dated? i mean, inviting mihye to the get-together?” you asked with your brows furrowed in confusion.

“i thought that by getting into those relationships, i’d distract myself from my feelings for you. i wanted to convince myself that i could move on, that i could be satisfied with being just friends. but every time, it felt wrong, like i was trying to force something that wasn't meant to be," haechan said. taking in his confession seems silly to you because you never thought you would be sitting here having him confess after years of pining for him in the shadows.

"i can't change the past, and i can't undo my mistakes," haechan admits, his voice filled with regret. "but what i can promise you is that i understand how much i feel for you now, and i want to make things right. i want us to stay as best friends but also be together, without holding back or letting anything distract us from each other ever again.”

tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of relief and sadness. the weight you've carried, keeping your feelings hidden, is finally being acknowledged. but there's still a lingering doubt, a fear that this newfound confession is too good to be true.

haechan stops the swing and gets off, taking a step closer, closing the distance between you. his hand reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that trails down your cheek. his touch is tender, his gaze unwavering.

"i don't want to lose you," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. "i want to be with you, y/n. and for real this time, no more dating other people and having my heart broken. can you forgive me for not realizing it sooner? can you give us a chance?"

you stare into Haechan's eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but all you find is raw honesty and vulnerability. the doubts that once clouded your mind begin to dissipate as his words and actions speak volumes.

a sense of warmth spreads through your heart, overpowering the lingering fear. you take a deep breath, letting the weight of your own unspoken desires slowly lift from your shoulders. with a shaky voice, you respond, "haechan, i... i do forgive you. and i want to give us a chance too."

a radiant smile brightens haechan's face, and a mixture of relief and joy fills his eyes. the connection between you deepens, and you realize that this moment is the turning point—the beginning of something wonderful.

as the air crackles with anticipation and the weight of your shared confession lingers in the atmosphere, haechan's gaze softens, his eyes locked with yours. the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this tender moment.

he takes a small step closer, his breath mingling with yours. "y/n, can i... can i kiss you?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern and a touch of nervousness. haechan wants to make sure that every step he takes is consensual, respecting your boundaries even if you two are best friends.

a smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters at his sweet gesture. you reach out, gently placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "yes, haechan," you whisper softly, your voice carrying a blend of excitement and affection.

with that silent permission, haechan closes the remaining distance between you, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he leans in, his lips gently brushing against yours. the touch is tender and delicate, like the flutter of butterfly wings, but it carries a depth of emotion that words fail to describe.

in that moment, time stands still. the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth and softness that envelops you. it feels like a climax of every unspoken word, every hidden longing finally finding comfort in this simple yet profound act.

as the kiss lingers, the two of you find comfort in the depth of your relationship. it's a testament to the trust and love that has grown between you—a love that grew from friendship and now blooms in the gentle embrace of this shared affection.

when the kiss ends, you both pull away slowly, breathless and filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment. haechan's eyes meet yours, and a bright, joyful smile graces his face, mirrored by your own.

you never thought you'd find yourself at this moment, wrapped in the embrace of your best friend. the journey that led you here was a tapestry woven with laughter, tears, and unspoken feelings. and now, as you stand together, hearts laid bare, you realize that the love you share surpasses boundaries.

in haechan's arms, you find relief and entirety. the weight of past mistakes and unspoken feelings has dispersed, replaced by a deep understanding. his eyes, filled with sincerity and regret, speak volumes. though the past can’t be rewritten, you can tell he’s determined to make things right once again.

you’re also determined to make things right once again, and this time follow your heart in speaking for yourself. you'll forever be haechan’s good person, the one who understands him deeply, no matter who’s breaking his heart. not that you would ever.

[iotaphora]

do you want to tell me a it about your ocs?

yes ye sye sye s yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes ye sey se yes yes eys e yes yes yes yes yes yes ye sye syes yes yes yes ye sye sye syes

oh boy where do i beguine. ok so my ocverse is called Stellar Point its located in Cananda and is i rift between worlds, its both a forest and a small town. The supernatural, paranormal and magic exists there. the main ocs i like from Stellar Point are Nadia Gomez, Manuela Dominique, Ai Xiao, Pluto, Ceader Quail and Aspen Eldrtich there is info about them undercut but i dont expect anyone to read that lol.

Nadia, Ceader and Pluto are all besties, Nadia and Ceader where dating at one point but broke up after Nadia realized she was aromantic and didnt feel romantic attraction, her and Ceader are still close. Pluto and Ceader like each other and have kind of friends with benefits thing going on but are too scared to take it any further, Pluto and Nadia are friends with literally nothing complicated going on. they just chat about the romance novels they read over cocktails like middle aged women lmao. Nadia is a vampire btw, Ceader has no head btw and pluto is a shadow figure that can turn into a cat btw.

Manuela, Ai and Aspen ARE A MESSSSSS they are known as the Wizards of Stellar Point (the three most powerful magic users in stellar point's) and some DRAMA occurred between them. im p sure i have vague posted about it (maybe before the story changed?) but basically Manuela and Ai where the only wizards, they where dating and it was kinda a cute thing until some random white boy named Jack got magical powers and as an adult ran off into the woods of Stellar Point and made himself a wizard tower using magic, changed his named to Aspen and insisted his was a wizard, for MONTHS he demanded Manuela and Ai take this seriously until Ai, fed up with it, got into an actual argument with him where he tried turning her into a bird, as a response she cursed him to lose his magic and to have horrible visions of the future, this stopped the bird transformation but left her stuck as a bird with a humans face, this led Manuela to break up with Ai but the two stayed on good terms unitl Ai, in an attempt to be human again, stole the humanity of a child. then Manuela stopped talking to her and started taking painting classes taught by Nadia.

[look-at-the-soul]

Hi! It's gossip girl!!❤️❤️ I'm glad your finally free!!! Tumblr really needs to get its life together!! Also happy late birthday!! I was gone for a bit and saw all the stuff about it a bit late but I hope you had a a amazing birthday!!❤️❤️❤️ 

And lol😂 I usually do remember sunscreen but this time me and my friends left a bit late and I didn't grab it😂 but after about a week of aloe Vera it's back to normal😂 And yeah I'm glad watching the pups went well!! Pups ARE the best! They are always so funny and cuddly!

And it's totally alright!! You didn't keep me waiting at all! You're always totally good with the time between!! It's never too long anyway!! And I did actually make more progress on some of my WIPs so that's good! I about doubled the word count of the Micheal story I've been working on for a bit but it's still not done😂 But the idea I'm actually the closest to completes is a random Bob x reader from Top Gun that's been stuck in my head and I wanted to finally write out even though I've only done Peaky stuff up to now😂 I did also kinda give in and end up making a mini second account to post random stuff and try to get back to interacting more, but it's still mainly me putting out small things and hiding again😂 

And for who I'm trying to get idk😂 maybe all the spam/p*rn bots that seem to be showing up in my tags😂 Tumblr bans the innocent but does nothing to stop those it seems🥲

And OH NO! That's would be terrible and scary to lose that many files and such😭😭 I hope your boss back then was able to  take responsibility for it though and didn't like blame you for his mistake! I've heard horror stories of that happening before! I'm sorry you had to restart it from the last save😭 I'm still at the point where I save and save as every now and then but for the most part I only have one copy:/. It'll probably screw me over done day though😂

And I love the idea of your Mary Poppins bag! I have something similar in my car!! It's got all the stuff I need incase I'm out and don't have it and too far from my dorm! My other bags are usually just a full but only contain multiple fidget objects or random items and pens I've found 😂 which surprisingly my random objects have come in handy at times so I can justify keeping them😂

And I'm not actually sure how the one of tests went😂 my teacher still hasn't given back the grade! He was supposed to and then my school closes down for the tropical storm again (which basically ended up missing our area so we're good) and we didn't have class that day!😂 But my other test went well and I got and A on it! So i did bit of a longer break due to the storm but I still can't wait for thanksgiving break in like a week😂 And I guess it was good that your plans to study elsewhere didn't move right before the pandemic! I can imagine how stressful that would have been! Maybe if you wanted to if would be better now, I guess the world has somewhat settled down a bit (in some degrees...)  I'm glad your week was good! I hope you got some good rest too and got around what needed to be❤️❤️

As always it was fun to interact with you❤️❤️ Lots of love! Xoxo!

Hi GG!!!

It’s good to be back!!! See @ staff? I didn’t do anything wrong 😇 I just post smut from time to time… 🙈 🥳 thank you sm for your kind wishes darling! I did ☺️💕 it was lovely to get all that love in here you know?

Oh no!!! Hope you got some nice tan at least? I gave up years ago, I looked like a sick ghost at 10 yo, will look like a sick wrinkled ghost at 84 yo so I don’t even try to get a nice color anymore 🤷🏻‍♀️ Oh I just LOVE dogs, have you seen those pup videos from car to car stopping over just to say hiiiii? I’m that kind of person 🤣🐶

I’m so glad because let me tell you a secret, sometimes I feel bad for not answering sooner! But between work, my 🐶🐶, writing, reading, etc sometimes I think I did something only to realize I did it only but in my mind, and when I look back, boom it’s been 5 days since I got the message. Sooooo you’re a Michael fan, what are your thoughts about that end? I’m happy to hear that you are working on your stories!!

I’m terrible at Top Gun stories (I hope I don’t disappoint you, but I never saw the movies 🙈🙊) but either way, it’s so so good to hear you’re getting inspiration, I hope you write this one!! ☺️ @ zablife writes TG stories, if you haven’t seen that account, I highly recommend. Ohhh how come you have a second account and I don’t even know about the first one??? 😋 don’t worry if you want to keep under the anon profile it’s all good!

You’re right, sometimes with the new tags content I get post promoted and I’m like tf? 😳 at something really explicit, and some friends got posts deleted over nothing, guess they are part of us sadly…

Haha I wish! No, I had to keep working on from where the file froze… luckily by then I had mastered the formulas, it’s alright, stuff like that happens and since then, I learned to not let my boss work around my excel ��� and make like 3 copies just in case he came to mess it up. Oh well if so far you’ve made it, it’s all good 😉

I recently added a small hair brush (travel size) to my bag, and a little “tide to go” for you know food accidents 🤣 soon I will need a bigger bag if I keep adding things. But yes, it’s so useful when you need something, specially a student like you, bet you have lots and lots of things for your notes 😊

How did the test go? I hope that by now you got a good grade back! Oh no, everything good with the tropical storm? Hopefully it didn’t leave lots of damage, and yay!!!! Congratulations for that A! ✨👏🏻👏🏻 Well done! Happy (belated) thanksgiving!!! Did you go back home for the holiday? Are you buying something from the crazy sales? The stores were so full last week!

Yeah, because I was planning to quit my job and just go to Boston 😂 life: sure haha now I have chickened out to be honest, I’m thinking I don’t know of different plans now like getting my own place, so maybe something online would be more fitting… who knows? 🤷🏻‍♀️ With everything that happened I decided to try to not make lots of plans (of course not getting on the irresponsible side either). Thank you it was 🤗 Hope you week was good and your weekend is even better!

Thanks for the chat! It’s lovely to ‘see’ you here 💙 sending back lots and lots of love your way! Ps don’t forget your sunscreen 😉 xx

[just-another-mess-in-a-dress]

A Simple Kindness

YOI Snz Fic #1:

I finally sat down and decided to post some of my kink fics from over the years. Starting off with a bang:

Phichit my beloved, be still my beating heart I had to write for my boy. I love him so much, this was one of the first fics I wrote for this fandom. I hope you like it.

Fetish!Yuuri and a sneezy!Phichit because I’m horny and can’t help myself. Also Yuuri being a fuckin disaster is vibe okay!?!

Phichit 🥰⛸️

Just a little fyi I caught a pretty nasty cold ☹️🤧🤒

😬 IDK if you want to kick me out of the dorm.

I get it if you do.

I’ll try to keep my germs to myself! Promise.

😷

Yuuri reads the string of texts no less than thirteen times after receiving them. Because first of all, who gave emojis the right to be so lewd? And second… how the fuck is he supposed to keep it together if Phichit has a cold?

Their dorm is basically the size of a glorified closet there’s no way Yuuri can ahem… keep things to himself… Perhaps he should be more worried about Phichit potentially spreading some kind of virus to him but really that’s not so much a concern, per say… Also, is it wrong to be completely turned on by your friend’s cold and maybe lowkey hoping you catch it yourself?

Moral quandary aside, Yuuri does manage to text back.

I’m sorry to hear that! Of course I’m not kicking you out, you must be exhausted. When does your flight get in?

Yuuri tries to turn his attention back to business ethics but his mind is well and truly in the gutter now. Besides, the professor could not be more dull as he drones on about nothing and Yuuri’s a little busy hyper fixating on the emojis Phichit used.

As he sits there nervously bobbing his leg, Yuuri’s mind wanders to Phichit’s performance at the Cup of China just a day or so ago. He had looked a bit shaky with his jumps in the free skate and Yuuri knows Phichit’s triples are solid. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling well then too? Maybe that’s why he hadn’t placed well and that thought breaks Yuuri’s heart a bit.

Our flight leaves in about half an hour, I should be back around 5.

I’m so tired. Send help 😩

Grimacing at his phone again Yuuri tosses his notebook into his bag.

Do you need anything from the store? I’m going after class.

Yuuri taps his pen nervously on the edge of his desk as the professor’s conclusion slide pops up on the screen. Their midterm essay is due instead of class on Wednesday, which of course, Yuuri has already completed and sent in.

Just as he’s walking out the door, he gets a text that sends a rush of warmth between his legs.

Get lots of tissues and probably some of those disposable face masks. I’m really sneezy. 🤧 🤧 🤧

Like I haven’t really stopped sneezing since we landed in LA. 😩

People are staring at me lol.

Shit… Shit.

How is he even supposed to respond to that?! What does one say when their best friend says something that should be simple conversation but instead is giving Yuuri a new fantasy?

Is there anything else I can grab you?

It’s lame and stupid but holy shit he’s a little busy being jealous of all the people in LAX staring at Phichit…

Just some juice? You’re the best Yuuri! 💖💕💖

While Yuuri definitely disagrees with that sentiment he manages to smother his feelings (salacious and otherwise) long enough to get to the store. He gets four boxes of tissues, a pack of disposable masks, and a few small bottles of juice to put in their mini fridge. There’s a moment where he considers not grabbing disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizer, but he decides that he shouldn’t actively try to catch whatever Phichit is bringing with him.

He does his best not to think about his roommate’s condition until he’s back in the dorm. It takes a minute to put away his groceries and another five to feed the hamsters before he throws himself onto his bed. Only then does he let his mind (and okay, yes, his hand too. Sue him) wander. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Phichit sick before, they’ve been rooming together for two years now and they travel internationally. Illness is common, normal for them, even.

Turns out his dick didn’t get that memo, however, and still gets all tingly at the idea of a runny nose. Such is life, he supposes.

Once he’s handled himself, he turns to his schoolwork, the monotony of his assignments. The mundane task does the trick and he feels more in control of himself now. And yeah, okay, jerking off can do that too, crazy world.

He checks his syllabuses to placate his nerves; his history professor is notoriously strict and for a second he’s convinced himself he did his whole mid-term in the wrong citation style. However, his nerves only settle for a minute or two before they bundle up again. This time because his ears catch the sound of a very congested sneeze from down the hall.

Yuuri’s mouth dries a bit as he fidgets on his bed, lord have mercy here we go.

The door opens and Yuuri’s heart instantly beats a bit faster.

Phichit looks terrible even with half his face covered. His eyes are red and watery, his complexion is nearly grey, and there’s a wet spot sitting right in the middle of his face mask.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Phichit asks, his voice is drenched in congestion and the question is punctuated with a harsh sniff.

“I’m alright. I thought you weren’t supposed to land until five.” Yuuri closes his laptop and sets it aside.

“We got- hhin early.” Phichit’s eyes squint up towards the industrial light above. His chest rises sporadically but ultimately leaves him without the satisfaction of a sneeze. “Ciao Ciao took me to the Student Health Center. On the bright side, it’s not the flu.”

“That’s good.” Yuuri manages to nod as Phichit drops his bag at the foot of his bed.

“So how… how wa-was… ahh…” An unnecessary hand raises up to cover his face, though Yuuri wonders if maybe it is necessary considering the sodden material. “He-tchuh! Tishuh!.. heh… heh eh-Psheh!”

“Bless you.” Yuuri forces himself to look away as his roommate wipes his eyes.

“Thank you… snif!�� Phichit sighs as he squeezes his eyes shut. “How was your week?”

“Oh, it was fine. Business as usual. It was nice to have practices by myself.” Yuuri watches Phichit deflate into his bed. “Did the health center give you anything?”

“Yeah… but I don’t think I can take it… you know how the ISU is about medication. Don’t wanna risk it.”

“I’m sure your cold medicine isn’t banned.” Yuuri tries to reason.

“Ciao Ciao offered to call the hotline to find something I could take. I told him not to bother… it’s just a cold.” Phichit shrugs out of his coat. Yuuri swears he can see the goosebumps rise on Phichit’s skin when the coat falls to the floor.

“Yeah but… you look pretty-”

“Et-chuh!”

“Bless you… miserable.” Yuuri bites back the undignified sound he wants to make.

“I’ll be fine.” Phichit sniffs a few times, “Ugh, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Yuuri bites his lip as he shuffles off the bed. “I got your tissues and juice.”

“Tha-hank chuh!... thank you.”

Yuuri opens one of the boxes, then he decides to just bring the trash can with him as he returns to the beds.

“Here.”

He places the bin near the head of Phichit’s bed, when he turns back to his friend he has to bite down hard to keep his jaw from dropping.

Phichit has removed his soiled face mask revealing the mess beneath. His nose is a bright warning label shade of red and its glistens with thin strands of mucous. He sits just on the precipice of a testy sneeze, his eyes half closed, his nostrils flaring dramatically, and of course, the jittery gasps that all culminate in what has to be a hugely reliving release.

“Hep-Tshu! He-Tcha! God.” He groans.

“Bless you.”

Phichit snuffles into no less than six tissues to clean up what must be hours of mess. Between the flight and the drive back to the university… god why does Yuuri sort of wish he were a face mask? What the fuck even…

“You don’t have to keep blessing me… I’m gonna be sneezy all night.” Phichit tosses the wad of tissues into the bin. “Do you want me to wear a mask?”

“Uh, no, you don’t have to. You’re the sick one and you’ve flown halfway across the world today. Just try to get comfortable, okay?”

Phichit looks up at him gratefully, “Maybe you should wear one then? Trust me, you don’t want to catch this.”

Well, that’s just patently untrue… Regardless, Yuuri plucks one of the disposable masks out of the box and throws it on. At least now he can hide his blushing, right? Especially because Phichit sneezes twice more while Yuuri’s back is turned.

“The nurse says it’s just a head cold but Ciao Ciao isn’t letting me skate for at least a week.” Phichit slumps further into his bed, a thin cough escaping his lungs. “I mean, isn’t getting last place punishment enough?”

“I don’t think you’re being punished.” Yuuri says grabbing a bottle of juice from the mini fridge.

“No, it’s punishment… He’s upset because I went out there and did my free skate while I had a fever.”

Yuuri swallows thickly as he puts the drink on the nightstand. “Oh, well, in that case… I guess you’re being punished.”

“What was I supposed to do? I went all the way to China to skate so I-… huh… I skha-ate… skated… uhuh… ehh…” Phichit’s hand raises lethargically in front of his face. He takes four deep inhales clearly trying to entice the sneeze forward and failing to do so.

“Yeah but… You should remember that Celestino is in charge of us, especially when we’re abroad. He wants you to take care of yourself, that’s all.”

“You’re one to talk.” Phichit snorts, the grimace he gives afterwards indicates the action hurts at least a little bit.

“Well… it’s easy to say when I’m not the one in trouble.” Yuuri chuckles nervously.

Phichit squints again, a shaky sigh rattling his chest. “Ehhh… ahh-ha-… huh… come on… Heptshah! Hatchu! Etsha-ETCHOO!”

Yuuri has to really focus on not paying attention to his groin after that particular display. Holy shit, why does his roommate – his best friend no less – have to be the perfect picture of a head cold?

“Bless you.” Yuuri can’t help himself from commenting as Phichit mops up his nose.

“Thank you…”

“You don’t have any mid-terms coming up do you?” Yuuri asks settling back into his own bed.

“No, thank god.” Phichit looks up from blowing his nose, “Did them all before I left. If I can’t skate there’s no way I’m going to class.”

“That’s good then, you have time to rest.” Yuuri tries in vain to return to his assignment but it’s incredibly difficult considering the circumstances. Phichit really is sneezing every five to ten minutes which is starting to wear on Yuuri’s resolve. Between blowing, sniffling, and sneezing he’s basically living in the type of universe his wildest wet dreams could only imagine.

It’s a relief when Ciao Ciao calls him.

“How are you Yuuri?” He asks, perfectly unaware of how ridiculous that question sounds to him.

“I’m alright…”

“Great, can you do me a favor? I got Phichit some medication for his cold can you come get it from my office?”

“Sure thing coach, I’ll be there in a bit.” Yuuri nearly runs out of the room. Part of him is a bit embarrassed to do so. The last thing he wants is Phichit thinking he finds his cold disgusting, but damnit he has a great excuse now to get his shit together. He throws his mask away the second he sees a trash bin and instantly takes a deep breath. The world is certainly testing his resolve today.

The walk to Celestino’s office is blissfully calm and the cool evening air does the trick. By the time he arrives, Yuuri feels like himself again and he’s not being manhandled by his dick, thank god. Ciao Ciao corrals him into a conversation about the Grand Prix Final coming up in December before handing off the medication.

Yuuri strolls back to the dorms at a leisurely pace, his head swirling with an ocean of thoughts. Between the Final, schoolwork, and the intrusive thoughts about Phichit’s cold; his brain is overrun with activity.

When he pushes into their room he finds the lights are still on but Phichit is dead to the world. Still, he tries to rouse his friend from his slumber.

“Phichit? Celestino got you some medicine.” Yuuri says softly putting a hand on his shoulder to shake him. There’s a moment where Yuuri can’t help himself. He finds his hand creeping up to Phichit’s forehead to check for temperature. He’s warm but not to such a degree that Yuuri is concerned.

Phichit’s eyes crack open just the slightest bit.

“Hey, Ciao Ciao got you-”

“Het-chu!” Phichit’s eyes shut as he jolts forward with the sneeze.

Yuuri pulls his hand back and closes his gaping mouth. Holy shit, holy shit, Phichit just sneezed on him. Any resolve he might have gained on his little walk around campus instantly leaves his body as he takes a step back.

Phichit, however, hasn’t seemed to notice at all as he rears back for another sneeze.

Yuuri pushes the tissue box a fraction closer to his friend. Phichit buries his face into the offered tissues and sneezes two more times before he seems to be aware of the world around him.

“Ugh… Hey, how… how long have you been gone?” Phichit asks pulling another tissue out of the box to blow his nose.

“About an hour. Ciao Ciao got you some ISU approved medicine.” Yuuri holds out the box to him, still reeling from what has just happened. His legs feel weak and he’s incredibly warm inside.

“And you… Aw, Yuuri that’s so nice of you to go get it for me. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble.” Yuuri tries to hide the furious blush overtaking his features.

“I’d hug you but I don’t think either of us want that.” Phichit sniffs to prove the point.

Yuuri turns back to his bed while Phichit downs a dose. When Yuuri turns around he sees the familiar sight of Phichit scrolling through his phone.

“You don’t want to get back to sleep?”

“I’m making sure Chris yelled at Viktor for me.” Phichit wipes his nose with the heel of his hand.

Yuuri sputters out a few incomprehensible sounds before eventually settling on a: “Huh!?”

“Oh, yeah. Viktor was patient zero.” Phichit rolls his eyes, “I’m pretty sure that he either doesn’t know how to cover his mouth or he was conspiring against us. The man was a walking biohazard during our practice days.”

It’s official, Yuuri no longer exists. Not on this Earth and maybe not even the next. Phichit has Viktor King-of-the-Ice Nikiforov’s cold. Phichit got to witness Viktor having the head cold from hell for days, and he apparently never covered his mouth. And now Yuuri has been infected. With Viktor’s cold. Viktor’s sneezy drippy cold. What a world.

The next few days are going to be quite the adventure. And Yuuri has some internet sleuthing to do to see if anyone recorded the Cup of China practice…

[kkusuka]

Hi Wifey!! Congrats on 2k I’m so proud 🥺😫💖 anyways I would love a smut number 3 with Bakugou, Ushijima and Bokuto plleeeaaasssee my darling -✨Puppy🤩

<3

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?”

Fem. anatomy!

genre: smut

characters: Bakugou, Ushijima, Bokuto

cw: public sex

an: i totally forgot to post this yesterday lol

Bakugou Katsuki

The Back Alley

Patrol is simultaneously the best and worst part of being a pro hero.

Some days it was where most action happened and it was nice to see some fans every once in a while. Others, it was the most boring experience of his life, no villains, no robberies, not even a purse snatcher!

The plus-- if he could even call it that-- was that he was alone today. So what does a bored man do whilst they are alone? Scroll through all of his hidden photos for every single video or picture that you're stuffed with his cock.

Now not only was he bored and alone; but also horny and has a lot of time on his hands. He could approach this two ways; stop watching videos of his cock pounding you to hell as you cream like a whore for him and calm down or send you his location and fuck you agist the wall of the alley he currently resided.

The morally challenged being he was, choosing the latter was not difficult.

“Katsuki! Are you ok? You just said to come as soon as possible, you scared me!” your voice rang ten minutes after his cryptic text.

“Fine, just c’mere.” he led you into the small distance between buildings, tucking your body into him. Within a moment his lips were on your neck, bringing to light the reason you were called here.

His hand finding its way to your clothed pussy, singling your clit out through the thin layers of your clothes. Almost melting into his touch, you almost completely forget that you’re standing within view of anyone who walks past.

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?” you push yourself away from his hands only to be violently pulled back into him. This time, his fingers going beyond the bounds of your panties, thrusting a finger into your already dripping hole.

“Let them” he states maneuvering your shirt into your mouth as a makeshift gag as he pushes your bra below your tits, “plus, if you don’t want to then why is your cunt fucking dripping on my fingers?”

Switching your positions, he kicks your feet further apart trapping you between his body and the wall. Sliding his fingers out of your clenching walls, relocating to your clit you feel something much bigger press against your folds.

Letting you settle for a brief moment, he presses his entire length into your heat. Pulling his hips back only to fuck it back into you forces you further into the wall. You can feel the slick running down your thighs as the sound of skin slapping rings through the alley.

“Fuck, you’d let me use you anywhere, look at you getting dicked in an alley where anyone can walk by and see,” he growled, holding up your falling hips, pulling them into his hips forcing his cock deeper than he was.

Your orgasm overtakes you as your legs collapse into his hold, his thrusts becoming sporadic as he leans to your shoulder and bites down to prevent the groan as he cums in your spasming cunt. The mix of your cum drips down your folds as Bakugou slides your panties back up your leg.

“I’ll be home soon, be ready.” he kisses your cheek and sends you wobbling out of the darkness.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Celebratory Car Ride

Ushijima is a silent force.

Unless you can read stone, knowing what he wants is nearly impossible until he tells you. You had to give it to yourself, knowing him since you were kids makes you a bit better at reading him than others.

Still, at times his stare unnerves you just a bit.

Like when you had gone to his class for the lunch break and he didn't say a word for the first twenty-five minutes. You thought he was going to break up with you, for what? You had no idea, but maybe he was having second thoughts about you, you’d only been dating for three years--since the second year of middle school if that counts--, maybe he got bored. His stare cut through your very soul.

He had you in a full panic only to tell you how cute you looked in his jacket. It was adorable that he spent all that time just trying to talk to you, but it bothered you that he could make you panic like that with just a look.

Luckily,  you made it past that stage of your relationship and understand that his stares are mostly sweet and he’s just trying to convey his emotion in a way that isn’t words.

But, even with all that, you had no idea what this stare was. If you could call it a stare, his eyes were following everywhere you went, which isn't the best considering this was one of the most important games in his career.

This stare was more intimidating. His lips pressed into a straight line, eyebrows tilted down, eyes seemingly looking right through you. It was his normal face but, he was sending chills through you every time you connected eyes.

They’d won, but Wakatoshi’s eyes didn’t lighten a bit, up close it sent waves of heat through your core. He looked at you like he wanted to swallow you whole.

“Wait for me in the car, I will be quick.” making due on his promise he meets you there a swift ten minutes later, surprising you when he swings the backdoor open. “Back here”

Following his command you slide next to him, a second after you’re throwing into his lap, hands already working to push your shorts out of his way. Not waiting a second before pulling your shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere into the front. Making quick work of your underwear by tearing it from your body, something you had stopped reprimanding him for, he’d buy you more if that’s what you wanted.

Watching him throw the shards to the side thrusts you back into the reality of where you are, “We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?” you frantically begin to look at the vacant parking lot in case someone has already seen.

He answers you in silence and a mouth to your nipple, rolling it between his lips sucking like it would give him something. Placing you onto a thigh so he can release his cock from his shorts, moving your core over his tip.

“Who...who cares if they see. You are mine, they can watch all they want but they will never be able to touch.” his voice vibrates in his chest.

You breathe before Toshi pushes your body onto his, slamming his cock into your pussy. Running his hands along the curve of your waist his eyes train on how your head is thrown back as he presses against your cervix.

Not wanting you to wait, he lifts your hip then releasing letting gravity plunge you back onto his length. Taking control of the pace he begins to thrust up into you, his finger meeting with your clit, building the coil in your stomach.

Steading yourself on his shoulders, you angle your hips so his cock hits a particularly soft spot in your depths. Collapsing onto his chest he continues fucking your cream back into your pulsing hole, restuffing you with his load.

You close your eyes and feel yourself being covered with some jacket, then being moved to the front, waking up in your bed at home cuddled into your boyfriend's chest.

Bokuto Koutarou  

Locker-rooms

Koutarou could convince you to do anything.

It was almost embarrassing at this point, you should really talk to him about it. You can remain strong when he’s not with you but the second he looks at you with those wide eyes and sweet smile, you fall apart. (like a nature valley granola bar)

So now you’re standing in front of the doors leading to the boy's locker room with an armful of random sweets to soothe your seemingly upset boyfriend. Knocking on the doors you hear him allow you to enter, immediately you see him lying over a bench.

“Are you ok, Kou?” you question only getting a peek of his eye before a wave to come closer. Once you were an arm's length of him he pulled you to lay over him. Wrapping him in your arms you ask what was so wrong to make him like this, but you only receive him pushing further into the crook of your neck.

Before you could ask again you feel a pair of lips sucking on your skin. Pushing his hands under your shorts.

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?” pulling away you try to make a move to leave, stopped by his arms encircling your waist keeping you pressed onto his bulge.

“No! They won't come in I promise! We’ll be quick!’ he speaks as he starts pulling clothes from your body leaving you in a bra and pushes aside underwear. He barely gave you enough to realize he was lined up with your entrance.

Steadily fucking yourself onto him, his hands holding your hips almost bruisingly. Once you were fully situated on him, he switched your positions, throwing your legs over his built shoulders.

Bending an arm to lean on the lockers for leverage he pounded into your cunt, intertwining his other hand into your hair.

Fucking you through your orgasm, you clenched so hard he could barely move, your hole milking him for his load. Slumping over you he connected your lips in a sloppy, tired kiss, almost walking out of the room butt naked with you in his arms.

[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.

[btsmosphere]

Crossing Paths - drabble from the Crossfire universe

request from @excusemyuwus -

I remember Tae said he had a crush on her while working on that project so now I kinda want to see his pov of that time and how he was holding being around his crush lol, not gonna lie gangster Tae all nervous bc he like someone is something want to see (also imagine how much the guys would tease him uwu)

tumblr ate your ask when I tried to answer it, sorry! this is the only part I had copied, but if it ever resurfaces, I shall answer there. for now it is still refusing to cooperate so I am posting like this! (update: the ask just returned, it is here)

~pairing: taehyung x reader ~word count: 1.4k ~pre-relationship, fluff, angst, slice of life, mafia au, college au ~rating: g ~warnings: vague mention of gang activity, this is a gang au after all, but it’s not particularly prominent

~a/n: thank you for your great request! this was so nice to come back to, I am so sentimental about this series as my first bts fic🥰takes me back to when I was just getting into bts… it felt hard to do it justice! because of this, sorry it took me a while to write, but I wanted to do it well, and again I kept the theme of making my ‘drabbles’ wayyy longer😅final big thanks to the site being frustrating and eating drafts and such🙃🙃but here it is, finally seeing the light of day! I hope you enjoy it x

“I can tell something’s on your mind, Tae.”

Jimin stared coolly at his friend. Looking over his shoulder guiltily as he unlocked the door, Tae found the other boy with his hands in his pockets, looking expectant.

All Tae could do was shrug as he elbowed the door open, heading to ditch his bag.

“Hey, Jimin’s right.”

A light flick on Tae’s forehead made him startle, looking up to find Hobi grinning, though his head was tilted to one side in question.

“What is it?”

Jimin’s shoulder nudged his own as they sunk into the sofa.

Tae checked his phone.

“It’s just a project for class, don’t worry about it,” he pocketed his phone, ignoring their gazes, “I gotta meet with my partner in an hour.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t staying that long anyway,” Hobi slumped down too, having helped himself to a drink from the fridge, “I’m on watch with Yoongi across town.”

As the discussion turned to this week’s jobs and deals, Taehyung rested his head back against the sofa. The sounds of his friends’ conversation was like static. Instead, he was picturing the scene in class earlier, as the slideshow was flipped to show the project partners on the screen.

Tae hadn’t been too fussed, idly playing with his pen lid as he searched for his name. But when his eyes fell on it, he sat up straight.

Having only bumped into you a few times in class, he had never expected his heart to be hammering quite so hard as he quickly scanned the room for you. Sliding his things away, he had walked towards you as everyone began to file out, meeting you halfway as you did the same.

Leaning against a desk to keep his jittery hands occupied, he grinned at you.

Your returning smile, he noticed, was much more nervous, only flickering into existence for a wavering second. The two of you had only a brief conversation to sort out when you would meet, before you had practically scurried away.

His eyes had lingered on you as his smile slowly sank.

Unconsciously poking his tongue against his cheek, Tae wondered if you were afraid of him.

“Hey!”

A finger clicked sharply in front of his face. He blinked back at Hobi’s grin, Jimin bursting into laughter at his side.

“Just a project, my ass,” Hobi shook his head, dumping an empty bottle on the coffee table, “don’t wanna be late, do you?”

A radiant smile was tossed over his shoulder as Hobi left the room, front door clicking soon after.

Sending his best friend a knowing look, Jimin also gathered himself to stand.

“Have fun tonight, yeah?”

He winked. Tae protested, shooting up from the sofa with an affronted look.

“So it is a special someone?” Jimin giggled.

“You’re impossible,” Tae grumbled, trailing after him to the door, “it’s just a project, I told you.”

Jimin hummed in a way which made it very clear he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t scare them off, tiger,” he remarked, stepping outside.

Tae’s shoulders slumped. He was certain that was just what he had already done.

“I’m busy tonight. And my house isn’t free, so I can’t have anyone showing up here.”

Namjoon chuckled across the line.

“All this for a college project?” Clearly he had heard about this from the others. “If you could lend Kook some of your commitment to school, that would be great,” he teased.

Sighing, Tae spun around to survey the road outside his window, ruffling his own hair.

“You’re very funny, but I need to go. See you tomorrow.”

Tae was certain he would never hear the end of this from the others. It was true that he had firmly set aside time for your meeting today, even if it was only for a minor college presentation. But it was important to him.

He knew that this was the only time he would get together with you, and though it would end as soon as the presentation was given, he couldn’t help but want to make the most of it. At your last meeting, he had been largely distracted by the dizzying height of your apartment, leaving him shying back from any windows.

So this left you with his house today instead.

Arriving soon after Tae’s phone call, you were both soon seated on his floor. Though you mostly worked in quiet with occasional, quick conversation, it was not awkward. Your legs lay close together under the coffee table as you scribbled away diligently on its surface.

Glancing over the lid of his laptop as his fingers hung idly, Tae sighed. Watching as your pen swirled across your notebook, he let his eyes drift across your focussed features.

He swallowed as he did so, teeth tugging his lip. A light frown came over your features. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your lips as your pen lifted to your mouth, resting between your teeth as you mulled the work over, eyes flitting about the page.

Eventually, the lack of tapping at his keyboard must have got through to you. You raised your head.

Too late to divert his gaze, Taehyung cleared his throat and muttered a proposal for a break. Eager as well to put your work aside, you clambered from the floor to join him at his offer of a drink.

Moving through to the kitchen, he made casual conversation, asking after your dad. Last time there had only been a brief meeting, as he met Tae at the door before you hurried him away.

Picking up on his offer to chat, you teased Tae for his fear of heights, giggling over how he had screwed his eyes shut whenever he had come within sight of the view from your windows.

Of course, Tae tried his best to roll his eyes at you, but the smile dragging the corners of his mouth refused to be suppressed.

He poured your drinks. When he turned away to put the cartons back in the fridge, he took a breath, trying to settle himself. Why did he feel so flustered?

Squaring his shoulders a little more, he turned back, only for his hand to catch one of the glasses. It clattered against the surface, barely leaving time for him to jump back and avoid being splattered with its contents.

You hopped from your seat, ready to help.

Swallowing down his shock, Tae scratched at the back of his neck to hide his slightly trembling hand.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly muttered, flashing a nervous smile as he gathered towels and set to cleaning up.

Soft laughter followed from you. Still, you reached across to help.

Righting the glass and taking one of the cloths to clear up, your hand came concerningly close to Tae’s own. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the countertop, his cheeks warm even as you finished and he was rooting in the fridge again for a refill.

You seemed miraculously unfazed by his flailing, though, he noticed as you finally settled beside each other sipping your drinks.

“So it went well?”

Jimin nudged a reluctant Tae, eyebrows wiggling all the time.

“Yes, fine,” Tae groaned, trying to shrug him off.

Jimin did stop, but only in favour of staring at his friend with doleful eyes.

“Don’t be like that. You’ll see her again. You literally share a class!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tae refuted.

He even halfway believed it.

You had got on well together, but surely not more than could be expected of most classmates? He sighed a little as he thought of it. It had been fun, but there was no excuse to spend any more time with you.

Besides, sparing one night to work on a project was a little different to becoming friends, or even more…

There was a reason the bangtan boys stuck to themselves.

But as he reminisced, he knew he had a soft spot for you, even if it should come to nothing. The project was over, the presentation given, but he still remembered the way you bounced with excited relief after you had finished talking to the class. Your face was glowing as you high-fived him with a grin, the work having paid off.

There was still a hint of nervousness though, and you had only given a timid smile and a small ‘see you later’ before heading out of class.

And that was the end of it.

But Tae smiled to himself. It had been fun, and he knew he wouldn’t be sorry if you ever crossed paths again.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments super appreciated always!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @un2-verse​ @ddaechwita​ @taegularities​ 

[dumbikawa]

Being Stressed About Exams & HQ Boys Comforting You

GN!Reader | Comfort/Fluff | Warnings: stressed reader

Characters: Atsumu, Oikawa

A/n: This is extremely self-indulgent as school has been kicking my butt and the future post-graduation is very terrifying lol

ATSUMU

You stare at the computer in front of you, the text you’re supposed to read for class beginning to swim together as your eyes fill with tears. Everything is happening too fast and you feel completely unprepared to take any of it on. What if you spent all of this time and money on schooling only to fail so close to the end? What if you finally do finish, but then can’t find a job in your field? Should you have studied something else? The questions become more exhausting and constant the closer it gets to exams. 

Small droplets roll off your cheeks and begin to pool on your keyboard. You haphazardly wipe them away before powering off the computer and tucking it back in your bag. Out of sight, out of mind, you figure. It’s not like there’s any use in trying to finish it tonight when you can already feel another wave of stress induced tears coming on. Those have also become a regular thing.

You click the volume button on your phone so that the sounds of music fill the room before leaning back in the desk chair, testing the limits of how far you can recline before gravity takes over. Atsumu had made this study playlist for you when he first noticed how stressed you were. It contained a mixture of your favorite songs, his favorite songs, and a few ‘motivational’ songs he pulled from his work-out playlists. It was a bit of a weird Frankenstein mash up with the large variety of genres, but it quickly became one of your studying must haves.

Over the sound of the music, you couldn’t hear the shower click off and the door to the bathroom swinging open. When Atsumu steps out, he sees you sitting where he’d left you, although, in a more dangerous position than you’d been in before as he notices the way the desk char teeters back and forth. His attention is quickly caught by the music choice, though, recognizing one of the songs playing as a favorite of his he added to the playlist he made for you a couple weeks ago. A smile breaks through his face as he hurriedly jumps into a pair of sweatpants before approaching your quiet figure.

As he comes up behind you, though, he notices a slight glisten upon your cheeks and a few fresh tears that tumble from your closed eyes. His upturned lips quickly sink as worry floods through him. Exams had been taking a toll on you, it wasn’t hard to tell, but he would never get used to seeing you cry.

“Baby,” he whispers, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “What can I do for ya? Food? Cuddles? Cry it out?” You nod, resting the chair back on the ground and practically launching yourself into his arms.

Atsumu catches you with ease, his strong arms holding you against his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, sending shivers racing down you back, but there's no ulterior motive to his gentle touches. He continues the soft touches as he guides you to the bed, only letting you go for a second before allowing you to bury yourself in his side again.

“What if I can’t do it?” you whisper, trailing your fingers across Atsumu's toned chest. “I’ve studied for so long, but what if it doesn’t work out? What if--What if I don’t actually know anything and I crash and burn and--”

Atsumu shushes you gently, placing a few comforting kisses to your forehead. He notices your breathing beginning to grow heavier as your anxiety takes over. There's a few moments of silence as you try to match your breathing to his, the two of you taking slow, deep breaths in sync.

“The future might be unsure and stressful, but I know you’re going to do your best and make it work. All you can do is continue to work towards your goals and handle everything as it comes. Not to mention, I’m always going to be here to remind you of how strong you are even if you don’t see it.”

A new wave of tears begins as his words echo through your ears. You bury your face in his chest as your arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to pull yourself as close to him as you physically can be. Somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear and a part of you wonders if he’s ever repeated those sentiments to himself when things felt unsure.

He continues to whisper reassurances as you fully relax against him, your tears finally beginning to dry up. You lift your head and offer him a weak smile.

“Thanks for letting me cry on your abs,” you sniffle, allowing yourself to truly laugh.

Atsumu feels lighter as he watches you smile and joke, hopefully being able to forget about the more stressful parts of life for a while as he holds you close. There’s been countless times where you eased his worries about the future, so he’s just happy that he can return the favor and create a safe space where you’re allowed to simply be.

OIKAWA

The cup in your hand is warm and comforting as you trudge towards your bedroom, a sense of dread washing over you as soon as your eyes land upon the laptop you left sitting open on the bed. With finals coming up, you thought it would be a good idea to transfer the notes you had written down during lectures onto your computer, figuring it would make them easier to access and that the process of going back through the information would be a good way to ensure you remember the material.

What you didn’t realize, however, is how absolutely time consuming and exhausting it was going to be. Your neck hurts from constantly looking back and forth between the paper and computer screen, your back hurts because somewhere along the way you abandoned any semblance of healthy posture and decided to go full cave gremlin in the way you hunched over your work, and instead of absorbing the information for a second time it seemed as if your brain had completely abandoned you and gone on autopilot. Shoving the computer off the bed and taking a nap feels like the best course of action right now, but you know if you stop now there’s no way you’re going to want to finish later.

Begrudgingly, you settle back onto the bed and take a large swig of coffee before stretching your fingers and placing them back on the keyboard. It couldn’t take that much longer right? All you have to do is push through and get it done.

And, for the next few hours, that’s what you do. You jump back in where you left off and race through the next few, gruelingly long chapters. The daylight outside quickly dwindles away until you’re forced to turn on the bedside lamp when you realize the sun has sunk far below the horizon and is beginning to cast bizarre shadows around the room. It was no bother, though, because you’re so close to being done. The issue is that neither your brain nor your body could keep up anymore.

Your fingers keep hitting the wrong keys, typing made up words that have you constantly backspacing and starting sentences over again for a third of even a fourth time. The breaking point comes when you go to take a sip of your now cold coffee and look back at the screen after attempting to type an entire paragraph from your notes in one go. Little did you know your finger placement was off, yet again, and the entire paragraph is an unreadable mess that even spell check doesn’t want to touch.

The tears that sting your eyes make you feel stupid. It was entirely too dumb to cry over something as superficial as misspellings that could be easily fixed and cold coffee. But once the tears start they won’t stop. Suddenly, you’re not crying over the notes or even school work in general. You’re crying about the crushing weight of change that's soon to come once you finish with classes and how impossible everything has begun to feel.

You’re too exhausted to focus on anything anymore, letting the hot tears run down your cheeks freely, which is why you don’t hear the rushed footsteps of your boyfriend who could hear your hiccuping breaths from down the hall. 

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you curled up on the bed, your face buried in your arms. Oikawa sits on the ground closest to you and lays his head near yours as he begins to run his slender fingers through your hair. It doesn't take a psychic to tell you've been stressed with the quickly approaching exams, and from the collection of notes littered all around to the half closed computer the dots practically connect themselves.

The slight dip on the bed near your head alerts you to his presence, but you don't move. His hands guiding themselves over your scalp is quick to relax your body, but your mind feels like it's about to burst any moment as the thoughts continue to race.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers against your temple, planting soft kisses after every word, “and you deserve to take a break. Remember when you used to have to tell me that all the time?" The feeling of his quiet laughter against your skin makes you smile, along with the memories of simpler times before either of you had barely begun to grasp how harsh the world could be.

"I picked up dinner for us, it was an apology for coming home late," he admits, kissing the top of your head. "But let's go heat it up and you can either tell me everything you're worried about or we can try to forget all about it for now and watch a movie. I'd really like it if you talked about it eventually, though. I know I'm not going to be able to fix it all, but that doesn't mean I can't try."

You turn your head to the side, exposing your tear stained cheeks that are quickly wiped away by Oikawa's calloused thumbs.

"I will," you say, voice heavy. "For now could you just hold me?" There isn't a second of hesitation as Oikawa slips his arms beneath your figure and presses you tightly against him.

"Movie it is," he announces, laying you on the couch with the remotes so that you could put on whatever you want. Your brain would never stop the constant anxious thoughts, but losing yourself in those chocolate brown eyes made it easy to imagine a future where it all works out somehow. Little do you know, Oikawa sees the same thing reflected in your eyes as he wonders about the right time, perhaps a couple years from now when you've both settled down in your careers, when he can finally buy that ring he's been looking at.

[tigerkirby215]

Ranking the Strixhaven Magic Items

(”Elemental Summoning” card artwork by Marta Nael. Source. God I fucking love the Prismari MTG cards.)

Got exams in a week so I’ve still been a bit too busy to make builds. (That, and LoL champion drought has made it hard for me to think of anyone to build.) That being said I do still want to make content for this blog, and between either this or the Strixhaven waifu tier list and one other post I’ve considered making this was the easiest.

Strixhaven didn’t give us many magic items unfortunately, but there were some nice simple toys from the school that I think are worth talking about. Despite the fact that there weren’t many additions in this book I think they all have a really nice place in the standard D&D campaign.

I did my best to avoid spoilers for the book but I will obviously be talking about content it added, so if you don’t want to see that don’t read this post. I’m not going to be talking about anything from the prewritten adventures, although that being said I did find one magic item that isn’t listed in the “magic items” section of the book thanks to D&D Beyond! I don’t think talking about it is a spoiler so I’ll be mentioning it too!

Bottle of Boundless Coffee

(common)

In the words of Reddit: the Cloak of Billowing has been surpassed as the best common magic item! Jokes aside this item is super flavorful (again: jokes aside) but essentially useless. Depending on your DM this will either range from a game-breaking survival tool, something to help with exhaustion, a neat option for roleplay, or completely useless.

But common magic items shouldn’t bring any huge power to them. They’re meant for roleplay, and my do I love this item for roleplay! It’s so cute for any character (overworked Wizard or otherwise!) to carry around an endless coffee thermos with them. Get a DM who allows some reflavoring and you can make this contain anything your heart desires: tea, juice, Monster energy drink, whisky, or even just plain old water.

I have a few small complaints: I feel like you should be able to fill some cups with the coffee but have it so that if the coffee is spilled it disappears. (This isn’t a common rarity Alchemy Jug!) I also feel like it would be fun if you could put something in the bottle to change its contents? I dunno: the aesthetic of a magic student pouring their favorite latte into their magical thermos to always have it at their fingertips is just adorable.

But I am picking at the tiniest of pet peeves with an item that’s entirely meant for fun roleplay. It’s absolutely wonderful and I think it’s the perfect gift for all you Barbarians and Rogues out there to give to your overworked Clerics who take care of you.

8/10

Cuddly Strixhaven Mascot

(common)

The fact that this item is arguably one of the strongest common magic items in the game is freaking hilarious to me. Fear is a very common debuff across all stages of play and it can be extremely debilitating, especially for melee characters. Having pocket advantage, even if it’s just for one saving throw is still huge, especially because of the wording of:

If the save succeeds, you can't use the toy in this way until you finish a long rest.

This means that this is a guaranteed once per day success against a frightening effect. Of course it’s not that simple (see the True Strike flow chart) but for the low low price of 100 gp (if you buy it from the Strixhaven campus store) this is an absolute steal of a deal.

I find it especially funny that this item is ironically best served on the typical “macho” classes. Fighters and especially Barbarians are going to want a cuddly buddy to help them face down the bad guys. Any Barbarian player can tell you how awful it is to be hit by a strong fear effect (it’s one of the few boons Berserker has over other Barbs) so having pocket advantage is really helpful.

Again a few small grievances: the fact that the plushy only stays attached for an hour is odd. Also why can’t you stick it onto your bag or something? Really feels like a missed opportunity to have a little plushy keychain or something. But again these are nitpicks: all I know is that I showed this item to my DM and we both had a good laugh at how adorable this item is. I love the “reluctant hero” character trope and having a character who carries their stuffed best friend around with them (Strixhaven branding not withstanding) brings a wonderful bit of lighthearted fun into what’s ultimately a game. It’s just the right amount of silly to me. Pass this to someone who’s trying to play Annie in your D&D campaign.

9/10

Lorehold Primer

(uncommon, attunement)

The first of many “Primer” magic items. I will start out by saying that these items are great at pretty much all stages of the game. Guidance on two specific checks (that stacks with regular Guidance!) and one first level spell of your choice from two classes. In almost all situations grabbing Find Familiar is the best pick but you can still opt for spells like Shield, Detect Magic, Identify, or even Mage Armor depending on your class. Well that is if the book gives you Wizard spells anyways: other schools do vary far more in power.

The restriction to spellcasters only does make it a little hard to use but it could genuinely be worth taking a 1 level dip in a caster class just to be able to use these depending on your build. (Rogues can get a lot of value out of a light dip into Warlock just to use these books.) Overall I think the Primers are A+ tier items, and I’m ranking them in comparison to each other.

With that being said: what does the Lorehold Primer provide?

A d4 to either History or Religion checks. These both come up frequently enough that this item will find its use in the average adventuring day.

Spells from either Cleric or Wizard. Seeing as the skills provided by this book are tied to Intelligence it’s likely that this book will belong to a Wizard, so having access to Cleric spells for a variety of useful utility spells is nice. Bane, Bless, Healing Word, Sanctuary, Shield of Faith; hell even spells like Create or Destroy Water and Purify Food and Drink can be nice to have in a pinch.

Lorehold coming in strong with one of the better magical textbooks. Brushing up on history is always useful, and the Cleric spell list has strong options if you don’t want to opt for Find Familiar.

9/10

(Lorehold Command Art by Jason Rainville)

Masque Charm

(common)

This is that unlisted item I found! And it’s... odd. It’s a once per day Disguise Self (DC 13) with an added option to pop it for 6 hours instead, destroying the magic item in the process. This item is almost identical to the Masquerade Tattoo from Tasha’s Cauldron with the exception of the 6 hour option, but an enemy can remove the charm from your character to disable the spell. One has to ask what the point of this item even is.

It’s not an attunement item. This is obviously very important. Not only can you keep attunement on all your items and still have this in a pinch but (if you use vanilla attunement rules) you can pass this item around quite easily. Does the Bard need to sneak in to butter up the guards instead of the Rogue hiding in plain sight? Just pass this pin around! I also think this item has very interesting implications for an Artificer who can essentially give one party member Disguise Self for 6 hours a day. I think that could result in some very interesting RP depending on if the DM allows it. Perhaps pick up the Faceless background from Descent Into Avernus and use this item to hide your true identity?

The 6 hour option also has some interesting implications but I don’t know how often it’ll be used in standard gameplay. I think this item is one that a DM has to design around because the limitations allow for a lot of fun gameplay. The fact that the pin can be removed to disable the spell creates some fun RP interactions. But I think every player has their one story of an amazing Disguise Self use that lead to some crazy problem solving. The only unfortunate truth is that this item’s usefulness plateaus hard if the party has a lot of spellcasters, becoming near-useless if there’s even a single Warlock who took the Mask of Many Faces invocation. But you’ll hardly ever have a D&D party that doesn’t have at least one Paladin or Fighter who can’t use a Disguise Kit and doesn’t have casting abilities of their own.

6/10

Prismari Primer

(uncommon, attunement)

Primer #2, this time for the art college. How does it differ from the last one?

Your skills are Acrobatics and Performance... Ima be real with you chief: unless you’re the type of player who likes forcing the DM to let you make these checks this will hardly ever come up. And it’s not like anyone other than Bards will be making Performance checks. Acrobatics at least has its use to escape grapples but there are better options than a book that a book on how to do backflips.

No Wizard spells... that hurts. Bard and Sorcerer don’t exactly have the best spell choice at first level, is the sad truth. At least Sorcerer still gives you Shield and Bard still gives you Healing Word, but there isn’t much that Sorc and Bard get which other classes don’t.

No shame in going to art college, but I wouldn’t buy any art textbooks. You’ll likely know how to do everything that this book could help you with.

3/10

Quandrix Primer

(uncommon, attunement)

Textbook number #3!

Arcana checks come up fairly often. Nature checks... lol no. That being said a pocket d4 for the occasional Nature check is very nice to have. If you’re dealing with Arcana checks often this item could genuinely be worth it just to boost those checks, with Nature being a nice added bonus.

The Druid spell list is about on-par with the Cleric spell list, but there are some notable outliars. That being said I think the Cleric spell list is better overall. Guess it doesn’t matter since you’ll probably be taking Find Familiar anyways.

Not as good as Lorehold but still useful in its own right, as long as you’re fine with being the nerd who carries a math textbook with them everywhere.

7/10

(Artwork from the Bace’s Sanctum Tumblr account.)

Silverquill Primer

(uncommon, attunement)

Textbook #4. This one makes you good at talking!

Persuasion and Intimidation checks are both extremely common, and being able to bump them in a pinch is a great boon. That being said the class that benefits the most from this (Bard) probably won’t need it, as they’ll likely have Expertise in those skills anyways. I actually think this would be best served on a Sorcerer, Warlock, or even Paladin: someone who’ll be doing the talking but won’t have a +8 to the roll.

See above for my thoughts on the Cleric and Bard list: Cleric is good, Bard less-so. No Wizard so no Find Familiar, but depending on your class you can take a bunch of nice utility spells from the Cleric spell list. As a Bard at lower levels I genuinely think it’s worth it to take a more powerful Concentration option like Shield of Faith or Bless. At higher levels a pocket Healing Word is still nice.

About what you’d expect from a book on magical writing and speechcraft. Very good to get over speech anxiety but it won’t help you if you have nothing to say.

7/10

Strixhaven Pennant

(common)

A common item before the last W-named Strixhaven primer. I may as well quote it verbatim because the description is literally two sentences:

While you wave the pennant, the symbol on it glitters, and the pennant sheds bright light in a 10-foot-radius and dim light for an additional 10 feet.

tl;dr it’s a magic penlight. Also doubles as a lighter if you’re at a concert and want to do that thing people do at concerts.

This is objectively worse than the Moon-touched Sword, and you can’t even turn it off! You can cover it more easily but you probably have a sheath for your Moon-touched Sword. It’s also worse than the Light spell, or just lighting a torch. Trying to figure out what use this item has other than lighting up a concert, especially in a world with Darkvision. I feel like it’s intentionally bad to replicate those dinky little pen lights which every university sells for like $2.

It’s harmless as a Common, but man if you spend 100 gold on this you’re being scammed lmaooo. Feel like Strixhaven should just give you these for free when you join the school. As a DM I’d charge 50 gold for these at most, and more likely charge something like 25 gold. But hey if you’re buying this you know what it does. And I guess you can reflavor it like the flashlights they use in Arcane.

(Source.)

2/10

Witherbloom Primer

(uncommon, attunement)

Our final primer and our final magic item. How does this item differentiate from the others?

Nature and Survival... These skills won’t come up enough unless you’re in the wilderness. If you are in the wilderness and you brought a survival guide I applaud you, but in the average campaign you won’t ever be making these checks.

Druid spell list is meh, but hey: Wizard is an option. So Find Familiar is an option!

The Quandrix Primer does practically the same thing but provides you skills that are going to be far more applicable in the average campaign. But if you’re going to go into the wilderness feel free to pick up a guide on the local plants and animals.

4/10

(Artwork from the MTG Wiki.)

I find it really funny that the commons are arguably the best magic items in Strixhaven, with the Cuddly Mascot unironically being S tier. But overall the magic items are all at an acceptable power level. Perhaps to be expected of overall low tier magic items but it’s still nice that the new toys in this book won’t be locked to Strixhaven, the same way that many magic items from Ravnica were too wacky to take out of that setting.

Overall I’m very happy with Strixhaven as a book. I think everything in the book is fun, flavorful, and MOSTLY balanced.

[mooniefics]

in the grand scheme of things [ 3 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 5.5k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warning : descriptions of alcohol and drug use

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

— originally posted 1 / 28 / 21 on ao3 —

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:  *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

sasha  3:47 pm hey u down to party tonight?? jean told connie he could get us into another one of the azo parties again

you sighed at the sight of the notifications on your phone from its place on the passenger's seat, pensively drumming your fingers on your steering wheel. the most recent party of the most popular fraternity chapter on your campus you'd attended had been the last party you'd subjected yourself to attending—the halloween party where you'd gotten ditched out and subsequently cheated on. though you could admit that it had been fun in the moment, especially when you had caught the struggle between sasha and historia when she saw your roommate snap a picture of her kissing the standoffish sophomore that always helped her with her english lit homework, ymir, rather than the fraternity guy she was meant to be with.

the memory of that night, at least the time before you'd realized your boyfriend and his annoyingly attractive best friend were nowhere to be found, made you consider. classes did start back up next week, and the most eventful thing you'd done over the break was your quaint little family get-together for new year's eve—and your two rendezvous with zeke, meetings that you were slowly beginning to feel more and more skeptical about as time went on—and you were sure that your second semester would drown you in work just as much—if not more—than you'd had in your first semester. so as soon as you came to a stop at a red light, you picked your phone up to shoot her back a message, laughing to yourself when she replied instantly.

               you  3:51 pm party on a wednesday?                            really?

sasha   3:51 pm come onnnn please??? i heard nikos gonna be there! ur rlly gonna make me go all alone??

so that was why she wanted to go, to see the foreign culinary major that somehow always managed to send her back to the dorm with a large plate of food and a blinding smile plastered on her face for at least the next hour. you were honestly surprised that they hadn't gotten together yet, considering how many common interests they'd shared.

a pleasant thought suddenly popped into your head, the thought that she was probably asking you because mikasa had already declined, meaning that she wouldn't be in attendance. armin was out in turkey with eren, ensuring his absence. that fact made you feel a bit less anxious about accepting sasha's invitation. you could catch up with the friends you'd been unable to see while you were off-campus—or too swamped with work to be able to reach out to—let loose one last time before you were trapped back in the monotonous cycle of working, sleeping, crying, and eating for the next couple months until spring break. your mind had been made up.

                          you  3:52 pm    fine. i'll go as moral support. but no promises u won't have  to babysit after you've had ur                          fun with nikolo  this break has been rough for                                       me lol

sasha  3:53 pm oh god my i loveyou so much already picking out our outfits

you chuckled to yourself, slipping your phone into the cupholder as the brake lights of the car in front of you flashed off and you eased your foot onto the gas. you made it back to the dorm relatively quickly, sasha more than elated to see you even though you didn't have any food to bring back for her. and just as her text message had read, she'd already laid out one of your nicer dresses and a set of heels that didn't absolutely kill your feet by the end of the night by your bed, digging through the closet with a pile of discarded clothes growing on the floor.

"thanks sash," you giggled, "but don't you think it's a little to be getting ready? what time's the party?"

"connie told me seven-thirty, but jean said for us to come an hour later so we aren't the only ones there." she spoke over her shoulder, huffing as she tossed another piece of clothing aside, "but i wanna look good! i'm gonna hop in the shower as soon as i find the right thing to wear."

holding out your dress before you, you frowned. it was simple, black and made of a sheer, clingy material with lace accents decorating the low neckline, thin straps that bared the entirety of your shoulders and a modest amount of cleavage. it was one of your favorites, but the half-healed bruises scattered across the skin that would be exposed by it wasn't ideal.

"oh, don't forget to take a cheap coat that you don't mind forgetting. it's kinda chilly out, and i always end up losing track of mine during the night."

you let out a breath of relief, remembering that covering up a bit more would be weather appropriate. "yeah, i'll wear a long-sleeved undershirt and something light on top." perfect.

you waited until sasha had gathered her toiletries and scurried off to the nearest bathroom to change clothes, feeling your face heat up at the thought of zeke, the initial deep pigmentation having faded out over the last two days but still a very visible shade of faint red. you were fully dressed upon your roommate's return, earning an excited slew of compliments from her as she wrapped up her hair in a towel and settled down beside you to get started on her makeup.

you were actually grateful for how early she'd insisted on getting ready considering how long she'd agonized over her eyeliner, or how many times she'd applied and removed her lashes, complaining that "something was off" or "it just didn't look right". your suggested time of arrival came in no time at all, and by then sasha was more than eager to start rushing you despite the pace she'd been moving at earlier.

"hurry!! if niko brings food, i don't wanna get there by the time it's all gone!" she whined, jiggling the doorknob to your room impatiently, "for the thanksgiving party, he brought a charcuterie board with all these nice cheeses on it and it was so good, he looked so happy watching me eat it, it was so cute!"

you chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, shoving the last of your things into your clutch, zipping up your phone in the small inner pocket to insure that you didn't drop it and forget on the floor of someone's house this time. "i'm sure that even if we got there late, he'd set aside plenty of food for you."

the walk to the fraternity's designated house was made much shorter by sasha's insistence, practically dragging you along by the wrist the whole way at a near jog. you couldn't deny that you were feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, knowing that you would have sasha, connie, and jean at the very least, but unaware as to what you would really do besides mill around. at the halloween party, you'd been able to play the variety of drinking games that had been set out for the guests with eren and his friends, but now you weren't entirely sure who to stick to for the majority of the night.

you didn't want to bother jean or connie after they'd gotten secured you an invite, and you were sure that sasha was expecting to be able to spend some time alone with the guy she'd came to see in the first place, meaning you'd have to spend a majority of the night alone, or the unfavorable option of mingling with unfamiliar people. but you realized that was a pill you'd have to swallow as you approached the steps of the house, nearly tripping up over your feet from the speed that sasha was hauling you along at, watching her furiously knock at the door.

there were people wandering about in the yard, some on their phones, most likely waiting for their own friends to arrive, and a smoky stench of something that definitely wasn't just tobacco wafting from the group of men camped out on the porch murmuring amongst each other. you could hear the volume of the music inside the house, almost able to feel it thrumming across the floor if you focused enough.

"thomas!" she exclaimed at the sight of a younger-looking blonde boy when the door opened, whose existence you honestly had no idea about until just now, grinning so broadly it made your own cheeks hurt for her, "jean invited us!"

"oh, come right in." he beamed right back, calling loudly over his shoulder, "yo, jean, your friends are here!"

the inside of the house looked just as you expected, already crowded to max capacity, jean having to maneuver past the throng of people gathered near the front to approach the two of you. "damn, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he did his best to speak over the music, wrapping you up in a friendly squeeze, "glad to see you could finally make it." he turned to sasha. "niko's already in the kitchen, by the way. asked when you were coming just a few minutes ago."

sasha's face lit up with glee, turning to you, silently asking for permission to go off on her own as if you could ever deny her and her overly-eager expression. "go get 'em, tiger." you smiled, giving her a few pats on her shoulder to send her off on her way, watching her disappear into the crowd in record time.

but before apprehension of her absence could set in, you felt jean's arm sling around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "c'mon, you didn't think i was gonna ditch out and let you hang alone all night?" you giggled, turning your head up to look at him properly for the first time.

you'd first met jean in your statistics class, an unfortunate requirement for your major of choice, and initially bonded over your mutual connection through sasha. they'd been good friends in high school, and you'd just moved into a room for at least the next year with her, so you figured it'd do you well to have someone who could get you in her good graces in the event that you two didn't get along. but, thankfully, you two were just fine on your own, and sasha and jean became your first friends outside of the small group you and eren shared.

the only real conflict of interest between the two of you seemed to be your aforementioned boyfriend, and you couldn't really be upset at him for that. eren could be difficult to get along with even at the best of times, he wasn't a terrible person—at least before he'd cheated—but he wasn't exactly the most friendly either.

"is this piercing new?" you asked, reaching up to brush your thumb over the small earring hugging the shell of jean's ear.

"yeah, got it for new year's. pretty hot, right?" you snorted, earning a grin from him, "by the way, if you need to use the bathroom just tell me, the one on the main floor is fucking filthy. and also probably has no toilet paper."

"will do." you could feel the tension ebbing away in his company, at least when you ignored the annoyed glances other girls were sending your way when they noticed his arm around you, "so, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"well, we probably have every kind of alcohol known to man," he said, leaning down to speak into your ear as he began to guide you through the crowded first floor, "beer kegs are out back, junk food and all the inexpensive shit is in the kitchen." he stopped at the opening to a hallway, smile evident in his voice. "but i'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so if you want some of the good stuff we have stashed, just say the word."

"wow, such a gentleman. do you say that to every girl that comes in?" you playfully replied, thankfully far enough away from the music now that you didn't have to talk at nearly a shout.

"only the ones i like." he added a terribly over-exaggerated wink, earning another small laugh from you, "so, what'll it be? vodka, tequila, or triple sec?"

you blinked up at him. "that's it? when you said 'good stuff', i imagined a little more variety."

"beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. and anyways we're a frat, not a restaurant, so either take your pick or go enjoy some cheap wine while you watch nikolo and sasha drool over each other."

you rolled your eyes, feigning anger in the face of his attitude, huffing out your answer. "surprise me then, frat boy."

"good answer." he said with a grin, "wait here."

he disappeared down the hall, leaving you to stare in silence at the wall before you and listen to the barely muffled sounds of the party going on just a few meters away. you opened up your clutch to fish out your phone, opening it to find your text conversation still open, catching a glimpse of connie's name. you felt a little guilty that you'd almost forgotten about his expected presence, seeing as he had messaged you and you hadn't heard anything from sasha or jean yet. you decided to shoot him a quick text letting him know that you and sasha had arrived, not surprised when he didn't respond as quickly as he usually did, knowing that he was already wrapped up in getting high out of his mind somewhere here or doing so elsewhere.

you opted to kill time tapping through your feed, making it a point to quickly scroll past any posts with armin's handle attached to them. the thought of eren having fun halfway across the world was both pleasant and disheartening at the same time. you felt stupid for still clinging on to the second thoughts about ending things the second he got back. sure, all the dots connected suspiciously well to create a picture that led to the clear conclusion of cheating, but eren wasn't good at hiding things. you remembered the time in your junior year when he'd barely been able to keep your surprise party that your friends had organized you a secret before one of them slipped up about it and exonerated him from blame, and you couldn't help but ask yourself if he was really capable of hiding such a terrible deed when he couldn't even conceal the harmless types of secrets from you.

the more confrontational part of you said that that was ages ago, that both you and him had changed so much since your time in high school, and maybe one of those changes was what made him put so much distance between the two of you these last months rather than hang around you and risk airing out his dirty laundry. you knew you should be angry with him, you would be more than right to be angry with him, but you force yourself to stop clinging to the simpler times, the days when he'd look at you like you'd put the stars in the sky and said all he ever wanted to do was be around you. you couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

"ta-da!" jean's voice interrupted your self-pity, a tall plastic cup suddenly occupying your vision, "long island iced tea for the lady. with a straw."

"christ, jean, are you trying to kill me?" you guffawed, taking the cup from him anyways, "my first real party in months and this is what you start me off with?"

"at least give it a try! after i took all that time to make it for you.." he furrowed his brows at you, only relaxing after you took a tentative sip. it was surprisingly not as strong as you thought it would be, a little on the sweeter side, but it served as a good distraction for the burn of five different alcohols sliding down your throat. "pretty good, isn't it?"

"meh. five out of ten." you snarked, giggling around the straw between your lips.

"typical," he lamented, clutching his hands over his heart, "all you and sasha ever do is use me."

"don't lie to yourself, jean. you love us."

you didn't know if it was the dim lighting casting a shadow over his face, but you could swear that you saw his cheeks flush at your assertion. "anyways.. speaking of love, you still dating that asshole? eric?"

"eren." you corrected, laughing at the error, "and, well, it's complicated."

"complicated? then i'm assuming he fucked up big time, considering he's not even here with you this time around."

you took a long sip of your drink, fiddling with the bendy part of your straw, the thought of his infidelity weighing heavily on your heart. "well he'd probably be here if he wasn't out of town, he's been planning to take his trip for a while now.."

jean shot you a displeased look. "i seriously don't know how you put up with that guy, you're selling yourself short honestly. planning on breaking up with him anytime soon?"

you cast your gaze to the floor, thankful that the warmth of the alcohol in your stomach was helping to ease the cool hollowness settling deep into your chest. "oh hush. you don't even know the whole story, jean."

"well i know enough. if you're in the market for any new guys, i'll scout out someone nice for you." you scoffed at his offer, but didn't outright deny it either, unable to help smiling along with him when he smirked and nodded over to the party in the other room, "now, come play me in beer pong, then you'll really have something to complain about."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

zeke could confidently say that his night had been utterly unremarkable.

another quiet day spent working at the library, where he'd actually glanced at the door more times than he was willing to admit with the hope that it would be you walking in. he'd actually been quite tempted to message you, to ask what you were doing, if you had anywhere between two and three so that maybe he could see you, but he'd ultimately decided against it. he couldn't quite figure out the exact cause of his newly-found infatuation with you, but the rationality of it didn't concern him as much as it probably should've, he was simply pleased to relive the very recent memories of your encounters together and anticipate your next meeting—at least until his younger brother returned.

eren had attempted to goad a reaction out of him with an assortment of unsavory texts calling him just about every name in the book, a constant stream of questions asking why he did it, or what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and even a few desperate pleas begging him to say that it wasn't really you. of course, he'd ignored all of them, and he wondered if eren was trying to contact you as well, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see the messages even if that was the case, though still curious nonetheless.

but for the moment, he was lounging at his usual downtown bar, seated in a booth beside reiner and across from porco at their rescheduled night out, since both marcel and porco were unable to make it yesterday, the latter sulking after his noisy attempt to flag down the waitress ended in failure.

"is marcel actually gonna make it tonight?" reiner asked, plucking a stick of celery from the appetizer platter in the middle of the table.

"no clue." porco replied, sipping his mojito, "said he got caught up at work again, so either the let down text is gonna come any minute now, or he's gonna show up for an hour and then disappear."

zeke chuckled. "post-marriage life sure is tough, i guess."

"you can say that again. he's always calling me, freaking about the idea of kids and his mortgage and stuff that i didn't even think about until he complained about it, scary shit."

"you say that like you're not two years away from being his age."

porco began what was sure to be one of his smart-ass replies, but the waitress had finally approached their booth, hiding her annoyance with his friend with a forced smile as she took the orders for their entrées. zeke pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans when he felt it buzz, feeling the slightest hint of disappointment by the fact that it wasn't you.

"who is it? your new girlfriend?" reiner grumbled, smirking when porco shot up in his seat.

"girlfriend?!" he exclaimed far too loudly.

"yup. zeke didn't tell you he's dating a high-schooler?"

so much for "your business", zeke thought to himself. "oh, fuck off. she's in college." he frowned at his roommate, only met with another tired expression of disappointment.

"just barely." reiner turned back to the man across the table, "it's one of his brother's ex-girlfriends too."

porco stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and judgmental, falling back against the cushion of the seat with a low whistle. "shit zeke.. that's kinda fucked up, don't you think?" he seemed uncomfortable by the unexpected revelation, "you're almost thirty and you're screwing around with someone who's probably not even twenty? is this an afraid-of-getting-old thing? mid-life crisis??"

"she's an adult, she can make her own choices." zeke didn't appreciate the sudden scrutiny, finishing off his old fashioned in the hopes that the bourbon would wash away the self-conscious feeling settling unpleasantly in his gut, "not my fault that her choice happens to be wanting to be around me rather than the guys her age."

"what ever happened to you and pieck? she's hot—"

"and actually over the legal drinking age."

both porco and zeke pointedly ignored reiner's interaction as the former continued. "—i thought it was working out between you two.. what happened?"

zeke shrugged. "just wasn't the right fit for me. but you liked her, didn't you? before we had our thing." he looked up at his friend, forcing a casual grin, "maybe you could give that shot now."

he felt a bit more at ease seeing porco's ears and cheeks flush red, now fiddling with the lime garnish on the rim of his glass. "we still talk here and there.. i don't really know much about what she's up to these days."

before he could answer with more words of encouragement that detracted from the previous, morally-incriminating topic, his phone began to vibrate, and he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name on the screen. "sorry, gotta take this."

he tugged on his jacket and slid out of the booth, ignoring reiner's chastising glance and porco's bewildered look, passing the waitress who was now carrying a platter with their food and refills on his way out. the cool night breeze was refreshing in comparison to the awkward, almost cramped atmosphere that had developed over their discussion, his breath coming is foggy puffs in the chilled, january air as he pressed the answer button. immediately upon raising the phone to his ear, he was met with a blurred assortment of background noise, able to discern the muffled sound of music and the sound of footsteps outside of whatever room you were in.

"hello?"

"oh, zeke, you answered!!" he could hear in your voice that you were clearly intoxicated, much more than you had been when you were at his house, words stringing together and ending syllables unnecessarily drawn out.

he felt uncharacteristically worried at the realization that you were at a party, one that sounded quite large and crowded, most likely crawling with unsavory individuals that he knew prowled around those sorts of events when he himself was in college. "are you alright? where are you right now? do you need me to pick you up?"

zeke was already digging around in his coat pocket to check if he had his keys, more than prepared to take off without his meal or saying goodbye to his friends inside. "'m at a party on campus, 's okay. in the bathroom. just thinking."

zeke didn't feel eased at all at the sound of loud knocking coming from somewhere, hearing you becoming distant for a moment as you presumably pulled the phone away from your ear to call out that the bathroom was occupied. there was shuffling on the other line, then silence for a short moment. "can i ask you something?"

zeke frowned. the idea of not being able to know who was monitoring you in this state wasn't sitting well with him. "go ahead."

"but don't call me stupid, ok? i already know it's a stupid question, but i still wanna ask it."

"there's no such thing as stupid questions." he assured you, ignoring the buzz of a text notification, most likely porco or reiner telling him to come back in before the burger he ordered got cold.

"do i really have to break up with eren?"

zeke felt something odd flicker in his chest, that unfamiliar feeling he'd felt when he caught you staring at you and his brother's one-sided chat logs, but yet the affirmative answer he thought he would be able to give with no problem sat on the tip of his tongue, undelivered. he thought back to that face reiner had made when he told him who you were, and porco's hesitant words trying to rationalize his actions but ultimately failing to do so.

zeke didn't understand why he felt so conflicted all of a sudden. this was meant to be a simple ordeal, one where he got what he needed to teach eren a lesson and moved on with his life. but now here he was, concerned about your whereabouts, focusing hard enough on your muddled words that he managed to catch the wobble in your voice that betrayed your own state of emotional unrest. he realized a moment too late that he hadn't said anything, hearing a small sniffle on your end before we began speaking.

"god, i can't believe i said that out loud, you must really think i'm dumb r'now, but.. i just can't let go of what we had." he was sure that you were crying now. "i keep thinking about what you said, an' you're right. he's been an ass to me, he practically ignored me for, like, three months, probably fuckin' cheated on me with his hot best friend, so i can't understand why i just wanna keep trying to fix things... and its so confusing 'cause everyone just keeps telling me to enjoy myself an' have fun, but i have no idea what i even want anymore, and i don't even know what we are right now and i can't fuckin' believe i cheated on my boyfriend with his fuckin' older brother and i don't know what i'd ever do if he found out."

by the end of it, you were letting out small, hiccuped sobs, breath fast and uneven just as it had been the night he'd invited you over. he honestly didn't know what to say, listening to you cry, staring at the steam of his breath as it dissipated out into the night. you were a good person, someone who was undeserving of such treatment from either him or eren, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that you had been caught in the fray.

he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, preparing to deliver an affirmation similar to the one he'd given you a few days ago when you first laid all your relationship troubles out on the table, but there was a rapid, more insistent knocking at the bathroom door on your end. he could hear a female voice calling out your name, and the jiggling of the door knob.

"hold on," you paused, sniffling, "it's my roommate."

you steadied yourself enough to say that, tossing the phone somewhere before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. "there you are!! are you seriously wasted already? it's only, like, eleven?! why are you crying???" your roommate sounded tipsy, but nowhere near as intoxicated as you currently were, which eased zeke's initial worry, "jean! can you c'mere for a sec! wait, were you calling someone?"

there was a brief pause, and zeke could practically see your tiny nod and teary eyes in his head, then heels clicking over tile and the sound of the phone being lifted, followed by a hurried, "hey, this is her roommate! she's fine, gotta go!"

then silence, just him and the faint noise coming from inside the bar behind him. he didn't know what to think. from the sounds of it, it seemed like your friends were taking care of you for the time being, friends who names he vaguely remembered you speaking of when you'd been detailing your time at the halloween party—people that were unfamiliar to him, people he wasn't sure that he could trust. and a small part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head, scoffed at his flimsy mask of worry that barely hid the true emotion, his possessive nature, driving his desire to go pick you up and bring you back to the apartment to take care of so you'd have to be there with him another morning with your thankful gazes and blunt, half-awake words.

he knew he was in no place to begin laying judgement at these unknown people in your life considering what he'd done, but it was an innate sort of feeling, the thought that always clouded his mind when he laid eyes on people that were younger than him, that he knew more than them, that somehow he would always be above them in an invisible hierarchy. that same feeling that he felt when he found himself looking down at you.

"zeke?" a warm, friendly voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes turning up from the ground to find a tired-looking marcel standing before him, "what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"smoke break." the lie slipped between his lips before he even thought of the fact that there was no cigarette between his fingers, no scent of smoke in the air or clinging to his clothes, "glad you could make it, everyone's inside. pretty sure porco already ordered you something."

but instead of immediately heading inside for zeke to come after him, marcel stood for a moment, lips drawing back and eyebrows knitting into a concerned expression. "is everything okay?"

zeke thought for a moment, giving a non-committal shrug in response.

"still having family troubles?"

despite having been quite fixated on his negative feelings revolving his own younger brother for the last few days, zeke had almost pushed out a majority of the sordid details of the entire situation out of his head, which now seemed to all flood back with such a short, simple question.

"you could say that." zeke scratched the back of his neck, now wishing he'd actually had a cigarette to take his mind off of all these turbulent thoughts, "all the arguing and shit subsided already, but..."

"anything from your dad?" marcel's voice was almost tentative asking that, frowning when zeke said nothing, "sorry.. didn't mean to be insensitive about it."

"it's not insensitive. just," he swallowed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching out to push open the bar door, a silent, less embarrassing way to signal that he no longer wanted to talk about it anymore, "just kind of fresh. that's all."

they both stood in silence for a moment, marcel's eyes wandering his face, features expressing a clear concern, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue any further, simply following him inside like zeke wished he would've done minutes earlier to save him the trouble, proceeding to the booth housing their friends. the conversation didn't wander back to the topic of him and his morally dubious relations nor his current familial situation, much to his relief, making it much easier for him to just allow the conversation to flow around him, finding himself not having much of an appetite or desire to speak much with so much on his mind.

for a moment, zeke wondered to himself if this was a punishment from the universe, feeling so downtrodden on what was usually one of his more enjoyable nights in the week. not to say that they were always amazing to be around, but spending time with porco, reiner, marcel, and sometimes bertholdt made up most of the meaningful social interactions he had, and to have lost out on it today of all days just seemed like some odd form of karmic justice as a result of him behaving so selfishly.

but he held out for the rest of the evening anyways, going through more drinks that he probably should've, finding easier to tune in to porco and reiner's usual bickering, marcel's attempts to quell them, the ambient sound of bustling waiters and clinking glasses and plates to bury down any thought of you or his family or what was to come at the end of the week, the consequences with much more magnitude in his life than an just an unpleasant night out.

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previous chapter⥽

[kuiinncedes]

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

--

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

--

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

--

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

--

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

--

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom’s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

--

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

--

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

--

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

--

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

[cupidhaos]

What is Love? (48/?)

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

word count: 3975

warnings: mentions of death, blood, killing

genre: historical au, royal au, friends to lovers, slight fluff, major angst

a/n: my god i really went all out for this chapter LMAO ok listen i know this is rly long and stuff but pls bare wit me its a whole love story fit into one chapter this is basically what they had to read in the book in the last part so ya LOL

tales of the lonely cupid:

the beginning and the end: an unforgivable act

[ set in the goryeo dynasty ]

“seokmin - please formally introduce yourself.”

after hearing this, nine year old seokmin grimaces. he looks at the girl in front of him with a slight look of disgust.

“she’s the princess?” he asks, not realizing how rude his comment was. the girl in front of him gasps and narrows her eyes into a glare back at the boy.

the older man standing next to seokmin looks down at him, smacking the back of his head. seokmin winces at the hit and whines, grabbing the back of his head in pain.

“behave. or else.”

seokmin pouts at the comment as he begrudgingly obliges. bending his head - he formally bows down to the girl in front of him “lee seokmin. i am the new guard in training.” he grumpily introduces. the girl just continues to glare at him though.

“how are you gonna be a guard? you’re just a kid”

he rises from his positions to glare back at her. “how are you gonna be a princess then?! you’re the same age as me!”

the two kids continue to glare at each other as the adults standing next to them just laugh. “y/n, that wasn’t polite was it? the general chose him for a reason. besides, maybe it’ll be good to have someone else around who’s your age - don't you think?” the king tells the younger girl.

y/n huffs in frustration as she crosses her arms across her chest. “no! what good will that be?! i bet he doesn’t even know how to fight!”

the annoyance in seokmin slowly rises at the comment. seokmin tightens his fists angrily at his sides as the man standing next to him chuckles underneath his breath. “i understand your concern princess, but i can assure you that seokmin will be a fine guard in no time. as the leader and general of the -”

“okay! okay! i get it!” y/n interrupts, covering both of her ears with her hands. she glares once more at seokmin, as well as the general, before letting out a frustrated noise. turning around, she beings making her way back towards the palace.

both of the older men look at each other before letting out a laugh. the general looks down at seokmin who glares intensely at y/n’s back. “for your first order, go and follow the princess”

a noise of disbelief leaves seokmin’s mouth as the general just looks back at him with a raised eyebrow. seokmin stares at him for a while before letting a defeated sigh - shortly running after the princess moments later.

“stop following me!”

“stop yelling!”

“well then stop following me!”

in all honesty, he didn’t even want to leave the palace in the first place. yet for some reason, y/n was very insistent on checking the vendors out today. the only way that she’d be able to leave was if a guard was with her, and the only guard that would even remotely agree was -

“seokmin, don’t you think this clip looks pretty on me?”

thirteen year old y/n asks the young guard. seokmin just shrugs in response though as he leans against the vendor’s post. “i don’t know, you look the same as always”

frowning at the comment, y/n removes the clip from her hair. after placing it back down into the original display, she turns towards the same-aged guard. “pay attention to me! do your job”

seokmin frowns at this comment as he meets her eyes. y/n just pouts at him at him and seokmin sighs.

“what do you think i’m doing, princess? i’m obviously standing guard - i don’t have time to play as your silly consultant.” he explains to her. “why did you even want to go out today in the first place? you have plenty of hair clips back at the palace.”

y/n blushes at this comment and turns back quickly towards the vendor’s display. she mumbles something underneath her breath which causes seokmin’s eyebrows to furrow together.

“what was that?”

“i SAID… prince jisoo will be visiting us soon and i wanted to look good”

the guard’s eyes widen at her words.

‘prince jisoo? prince jisoo?! why was she trying to look good for him!’

the feeling of jealousy rises inside of him and a look of disgusts covers his features as he watches the blush on y/n’s face spread. a small smile plays on her lips and seokmin just huffs.

“ha! and you think a clip will make you pretty?” he asks with a loudly obnoxious laugh. the smile on y/n’s face quickly vanishes and is replaced with a deathly glare as she looks towards him.

“you have no manners! you’re so rude! i want another guard!” y/n begins with a string of complaints as she hits his arm. seokmin rolls his eyes with a huff before standing up properly. she continues hitting him as well as the continuous line of insults as seokmin walks around her.

her eyes are are shut as she angrily hits his back, but is stopped once she feels something clip onto her hair. her eyes immediately stares into seokmin’s once she opens them. a light blush covers seokmin’s cheeks as he brings his hand down from her hair.

“wear the sunflower clip - it suits you the best.” he explains, quickly diverting his eyes away from hers. y/n slowly reaches up to gently touch the clip - the blush on her face creeping up slowly.

“well we got your clip - lets go back already.” seokmin huffs, walking past her as he begins his path back towards the palace. y/n shakes herself out of her thoughts before quickly paying and thanking the vendor. she scrambles to catch up with seokmin who just continues to walk ahead of her.

y/n looks at him with a smile and he doesn’t even dare to turn his head. “what is it?” he asks after a couple moments, a hint of embarrassment in his wavering tone.

“did you pick this because you think it looks pretty on me?” she lightly teases.

seokmin scoffs at the question despite his ears visibly turning red “yeah right! i picked it because yellow is bright and irritating to look at just like you!” he huffs. the death glare that was on y/n’s face earlier appears as she glares at the young boy.

“whatever! … but do you really think prince jisoo will like it though?”

“well maybe if he’s into ugly girls!”

“take that back!”

“seokmin, did you hear? we’re getting two new guards today.” sixteen year old y/n asks the guard in a hushed town as she trails behind him. seokmin just nods as he continues to walk across the courtyard with a straight face “of course i did - why wouldn’t i?”

y/n’s lips turn into a pout as she continued to follow him despite his passive demeanor “why didn’t you tell me then? i had to find out from the general you know”

seokmin just shrugs as he just walks towards the training field “i didn’t realize you wanted to know so badly since you’ve been so busy trying to win over prince wonwoo” he comments grumpily.

“seokmin!” y/n hisses out in embarrassment. seokmin just ignores her though as he watches the other guards train the two newest recruits. y/n grabs onto his sleeve, trying to gain his attention as he continues to watch over the field.

“lee chan! vernon chwe! come here.” he calls out. two young boys look up from where they were training before scrambling over towards seokmin. y/n stands slightly behind seokmin as she grabs onto his arm, peering over curiously at the two unfamiliar faces. the young guards in training bow curtly to them as they introduce themselves.

“hello! good afternoon your majesty! i am lee chan! i am currently the youngest and one of the news guards in training! i will do my best to protect you your highest majesty!” the younger of the two, lee chan, greets. y/n gives him a sheepish smile at his introduction “you don’t have to call me majesty or anything like that… y/n is fine... really…”

chan looks up at her with an incredulous look on his face as if she just threatened him. he shakes his head at the comment “i could never say something so disrespectful!”

y/n was about to say something else before the other boy next to chan begins to speak “i am vernon chwe. i’ll do my best and i look forward to working alongside with you princess y/n.”

as the two boys stand back up, y/n takes a good look at their faces. the expression on chan’s face was filled with determination while vernon’s face was stoic and serious. opening up her mouth to make a comment, it was now seokmin’s turn to cut her off.

“y/n. these are the two newest guards. see, now you’ve met them. you two are dismissed.” seokmin explains as he waves the two of them off. they nod curtly at the pair before running back towards the training field.

“i wasn’t done talking” y/n scowls which cause seokmin to shrug in response.

“they’re busy boys. besides - i bet you just wanted to stare at their faces a bit longer”

the comment causes y/n to lightly hit seokmin’s arm, making the taller boy laugh at her. her face turns red, and seokmin wasn’t quite sure if it was out of frustration or embarrassment. its silent between the two of them as they continued to watch the other guards in training. y/n was the first one to break the silence.

“how did the two of them end up becoming guards?” y/n asks curiously as she looks at seokmin for an answer he turns his head at the question with a quirked up eyebrow. he then turns back towards the field with a bittersweet smile on his face.

“i mean it wasn’t like the two of them had a choice really. from what i heard their parents had died from an attack from another kingdom and they had ended up becoming orphans. it’s not that uncommon really, nearly all of the guards are put in a training class to see who’d survive before becoming part of the royal guard. it looks as if these are the two that passed this year.”

a grim expression falls on y/n’s face as seokmin explains what the guards had to go through. a shocked look fills her face though as another thought popped into her head.

“seokmin - does that mean that you had to go through that also?” she asks, her tone filled with worry and concern. seokmin just smiles at her though as he shakes his head “no - my situation was a lot different. the general took me in personally since he had known my parents.”

y/n’s shoulders relax once seokmin had explained his situation. annoyance filled her up quickly though once seokmin had decided to open his mouth again.

“why? were you worried about me princess?”

seokmin laughs as he then turns to walk away from her. he continues laughing at the thought even once he had made it to the corridor. it was shortly cut off though once he felt a hand grab onto his sleeve. y/n turns him around which causes to back himself up against the wall in shock.

“of course i worry about you! i care about you! i love you! do you think that i don’t?” she asks him, disbelief laced in her tone. seokmin stares down at y/n with wide eyes, surprised at the sudden question. his expression softened though as he reached up to lightly pat her head.

“i didn’t mean it like that y/n - i apologize if you thought i did. i care a lot about you also” he tells her, which seemed to calm the young girl down.

“i bet you that i love you more than you love me”

“ha! yeah right! it’s my job to protect you y/n. theres absolutely no way you could ever prove that.”

“- and in order to keep peace between the western and the eastern nation, i propose to arrange a marriage between prince mingyu and princess y/n.”

eighteen year old y/n’s eyes widen as she holds back a gasp once she heard what the royal advisor of the eastern kingdom had suggested. her hand covered her mouth in shock as she listened in on their meeting, standing outside of the room that they were in.

she knew that something was off when the eastern kingdom had decided to visit suddenly. they’ve never been on good terms with their nation and had been constantly at war with each other. she had never quite gotten along on terms with prince mingyu in the first place, so to hear that she may have to marry him was something that was just not possible. especially since her heart already belonged with somebody else.

“i think that may be a great proposal.”

the princess couldn’t believe what she was hearing - her father out of all people, had agreed to marry her off to someone that she didn’t even really like. turning towards the door, she nearly interrupted their meeting - but was stopped when she felt a hand cover her mouth while another grabbed onto her wrist.

“i told you not to come here” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. y/n’s breath hitched and she felt her heart begin to race. seokmin turns her around, hand still covering her mouth as he stares at her with a serious look in his eyes. y/n’s eyes widened as seokmin leaned in close so she could hear him.

“you know, i won’t be there to help you out each time you get into trouble. they’re having a serious meeting that decides the fate of two nations right now - so i suggest that we take this conversation someplace else, okay?” he asks, to which y/n obediently nods in return. the two quickly leave the area without a sound.

“an arranged marriage, huh?” was all seokmin could come up with. y/n stares at him expectantly as she waits for his reaction. “yeah… what do you think?”

seokmin just raises an eyebrow at her and shrugs his shoulders. in all honesty he wasn’t sure what to think, he knew that there was never a chance that he would be the one to be with her - but he didn’t expect for it to come so soon.

“i mean, if it’s what will bring both the nations peace then -” “what! that’s it?!” y/n explodes, an upset look on her face as she stands up quickly to look at the royal guard. seokmin’s eyes widen at her sudden action as he places his hands up in defense “calm down! why are you so upset!”

y/n gives him a look of disbelief at the question “why aren’t you! so you’re just fine with me marrying prince mingyu then?!”

seokmin’s eyebrows furrow together angrily as it’s his turn to stand up. he grabs onto both of y/n’s arms as he looks right at her.

“of course i’m not fine with it! why would i be okay with seeing the woman i love marry somebody else!” seokmin exclaims, his words not sinking in until after he said it. y/n looks up at him with a shocked expression as seokmin was able to feel his heart stop.

“i - just forget that i said anything.” he lets go of her as he quickly turns around to leave. y/n snaps out of her shocked trance though once she realizes what was happening.

“seokmin wait” y/n calls out. she quickly runs towards him as she wraps her arms around his waist, desperately trying to stop him from leaving. “please - don’t go”

seokmin freezes from where he stood, his hand about to grab the door. he wasn’t able to comprehend what was happening.

“y/n -”

“i’m not going to marry mingyu. i won’t - i refuse to marry him! so please seokmin, don’t go.”

he couldn’t move for a while as he listened to her words. after a few moments, all he was able to muster up was an airy laugh. grabbing her hands from around his waist, he turns around to look at her. y/n looks back up at him with eyes filled with distressed. he wraps his arms around her as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

“okay, i won’t go. i’ll never leave your side.”

happiness always comes at a price.

after refusing to marry prince mingyu, the eastern kingdom became filled with rage. their attacks against the western nation had become more violent than ever. this behavior had lead to the eastern kingdom ambushing the palace.

“look out for one another. make sure no one from the eastern kingdom enters the main hall.” seokmin, the nineteen year old commander had ordered to the other guards as they head out towards the courtyard where eastern kingdom soldiers lined up.

at the forefront of it all, was the eastern kingdom’s royal advisor, han sung soo, who was placed next to prince mingyu who had a stern look on his face.

seokmin glares right back at them as the royal guards lined up protectively in front of the main hall of the palace. “leave now. you have no reason being here.”

“i’ve come to speak to the princess. where is she.”

the frown on seokmin’s face deepens at the comment that the prince had made. vernon steps up in front of seokmin as he raises his sword protectively. “he said to leave now.”

the eastern kingdom’s royal advisor just rolls his eyes as he signals one of the guards to attack. vernon had no time to process the attack against him as he was shoved out of the way. seokmin quickly draws out his sword as he protects vernon from getting hit. soon enough, both the eastern and the western soldiers are engaged in a battle.

unbeknownst to seokmin, the guard in front of him was merely just a ploy to distract him, and the real threat was creeping up behind him. he heard vernon call out to him, but by the time he had turned around - mingyu was already there.

as he was prepared to fully risk his life to protect the person he loved and cared for the most, something that seokmin wasn’t expecting had happened.

seokmin’s eyes widened along with mingyu’s as they both looked at y/n in shock. her back was turned to seokmin as he saw the sword pierce through y/n’s chest. mingyu quickly draws the sword out of her in shock and y/n’s body quickly fell to the ground.

seokmin quickly makes his way over to y/n, tears spilling out of his eyes as he holds her close to him. he presses his hand onto the wound to stop the bleeding, yet the blood continued to spill out no matter how hard he tried.

“you idiot! what are you doing out here! i told you to stay inside! it’s supposed to be my job to protect you!” seokmin yells out in frustration. y/n just shakes her head at him though as she grabs ahold onto his hand.

“i told you - i loved you more” y/n teases with a light laugh, her eyes slowly opening and closing. so many thoughts ran through seokmin’s mind as he held her close to him, trying his best to keep her alive.

he wasn’t able to do his job, he couldn’t protect her - in the end it was him who got her killed.

“don’t forget me - that’s my only wish. who knows, maybe you’ll find your way back to me in the next life.” was the last thing that he heard her say, he felt her place something in his hand as the tears continued to stream down his face.

the last thing he had saw before he was striked by the royal advisor’s sword - was a sunflower hair clip.

seokmin opens his eyes groggily before he sits up. after a few moments, he then recalled back his memories. from the eastern kingdom attacking, to holding the love of his life while they died in his arms from trying to protect him.

looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings, he wasn’t sure where exactly he was.

“so, you’ve finally woken up?”

quickly turning around, he finds a woman pouring tea into a cup. she was kneeling in front of a small table as she wore a long red robe as she asked the question. seokmin just scoffs at her as he goes to get up and leave.

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you. i mean - you’re technically dead.” she comments. seokmin stops in his tracks once he hears those words “... what?”

the mysterious woman just nods as she places the kettle down onto the tray. “right now, you’re in the space between the living and the dead. you’re well on your way into being reincarnated once you step through those doors.”

“why am i here? what do you want from me?” seokmin interrogates and the woman just tsks at him, gesturing for him to sit down to which he hesitantly complies.

“that girl’s dying wish. i’m the one to fulfill it. you’re the reason she died - am i right?”

seokmin tenses up at the question before nodding.

“yes. it’s my fault that she died - i was the one supposed to protect her but i -”

“you failed.”

he nods again.

“you were in love with her - right? yet you knew that the two of you weren’t supposed to be together. your fates aren’t intertwined like that. yet you tried to be together anyways. she was never meant to be with you.”

he felt his fists clench up at her words. he knew she was right, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear. his love was what got both of them killed. he was the reason she died.

the woman raises a finger and point towards him.

“you, lee seokmin, have went against fate. and for this, you will be punished.”

seokmin looks at her with a confused and worried expression on his face “what do you…”

“in order to fulfill y/n’s wish, along with your punishment, no matter how many lives you go through - you will have to remember each and every one. you’ll play the role of cupid in a way. your existence relies on others falling in love. but you’ll forever be lonely despite this.”

“what!”

“since this is a punishment for letting her die - if you fail, you’ll be forgotten.”

it’s quiet for a moment as seokmin tries to process all the information. all he could do was nod and accept the punishment. as he goes towards the door to his next life, he stops himself.

“will anyone be able to remember me? even if i fail?”

“only someone who truly loves you would be able to remember you. along with another cupid. but most cupids are reborn as cupid, or their love for someone that they knew in the past is so strong that they begin to regain memories of that life.”

seokmin slowly nods before thinking of one last question.

“is there any way for me to get rid of the punishment?”

the woman stops, pausing from taking a sip of her tea.

“the only way is if someone else takes on the role of the punishment for you. but if someone did that, everything from that lifetime would be reset. meaning you would have to restart all over again.”

and with that, seokmin hesitantly opens the door to his next life.

summary:

seokmin never expected to fall in love with a human - especially one that was supposed to be with somebody else

previous // next

masterlist

[dreadpoetssociety]

I’m Many Things

TW: Mention of sexual harassment

Note: I’ve never really posted these before, so please be lax if it’s bad lol. I don’t see a lot of sibling fics (understandably lol) but I feel weird writing like romantic relationshipy reader insert fics with characters that are significantly older than me. Anywayyy, here goes. This is going to be short for now. 

Note pt 2: Idk if this really is any good. Looking at it now it seems a little off or I can’t really tell if I got Spencer right, but I tried!! It’s kinda rushed, I’ll admit. Also hopefully I used a gif right lol. This is kinda cringey and I promise I’m better than this fic, but I just really wanted to break the ice and start posting them, so enjoy!! (if you have any prompts/ideas please send me some ! I wanna write some more :))

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Summary: Your brother, Spencer Reid, has to have a meeting with your principal.

Spencer Reid x Sister!reader 

(or should I say reider hahahah I’ll shut up.)

By now, Spencer was pretty familiar with the hallways of your high school, given how many times he’d been called in for meetings with various different staff members, or even from the parent-teacher conferences alone. Thankfully, the office was at the front entrance of the building, blocked off from the rest of the hallway with floor to ceiling windows, with one door. 

Reid had been informed in a very interesting phone call with the principal himself of what you had done. He was used to the petty things from you, talking back to teachers, skipping a class, vandalizing something, but the one thing you had never done, at least until now, was get into a physical altercation with another student during school. Let alone punch the principal’s son. Even so, despite the disappointment, Spencer still sensed that something was wrong in the sense that he understood you wouldn’t just do something like that out of nowhere. 

He was greeted by the women at the desk as he walked in.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. Nice to see you again.” she smiled.

“You too, if only it were under different circumstances.” Reid replied with a polite smile.

“She’s in front of the office, as usual.” the woman gestured to Reid’s right. The office had many rooms in it on its own, its own hallway and all that. Spencer walked behind the front desk and turned, seeing you sitting in a plastic chair near the end of the hall.

You turned when you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“I know how this looks, but I promise it’s not like that.” you began explaining.

“You say that every time Y/N. This is the third time this semester I’ve had to leave work because you’ve gotten into some kind of trouble.” Spencer replied, obviously disappointed.

“This is different! Mr. Beck is being so stupid just because it’s his own son. You don’t understand, that kid is awful.” you said.

“Y/N did he hit you?” Spencer asked.

“Well, I mean, no but-” 

“That’s exactly what I mean. I understand that you’ve had it rough, but really Y/N getting violent?” Typically, Spencer would always hear you out. He was understanding, and genuinely listened, but the team was just about to leave on a case that was already stressful, and now it’s being delayed, “Y/N there’s a serial killer out west killing people every few hours, peoples’ lives are on the line and this is where I am.”

He’d never spoken to you that way. It was really unlike him, and he never put the job before you most of the time, and this hit you where it hurts.

It was then that you both were called into the principal’s private office.

“Dr. Reid, I apologize for pulling you from your busy schedule.” the man known as Mr. Beck greeted as he stood up and offered his hand, which Spencer shook.

“It’s no problem, sir, it’s not your fault.” Spencer then saw the other boy sitting in the chair on the far side of the room with a very swollen eye that would definitely be very purple later, a day or two to be more specific he thought. For teens, it takes about that long for the hemoglobin to change the red color to a more blue or purple he explained to himself in his own head, because that’s just how his mind automatically works. Either way, it was worse than he thought it’d be.

“Now, we’ve already talked about the issue over the phone, and as far as consequences go, we’ve been very lenient with Y/N for so long.” Mr. Beck began, “If I’m being completely honest, after what happened today, expulsion is being very highly considered.” 

“You’re going to expel me? You didn’t even listen to my side of the story, I’ve been sitting on that goddamn chair this entire time! You’re just taking your son’s word over mine you biased a-” 

“Y/N!” Spencer interrupted, “Mr. Beck, I understand completely why you’re upset and I’m appreciative of you patience, but expulsion seems a bit extreme. I promise I’ll talk to her and she’ll get the consequences she deserves and this won’t happen again. Suspension I can understand.” 

Great. you thought, Serial killer and now he has to save me from expulsion. Way to go again, disappointment.

“What? You didn’t even hear what happened! Your son was-” 

“Y/N that is quite enough!” Mr. Beck nearly yelled, “We’ve given you so many chances and today, my son tells me that you’ve been making fun of him and violently hurt him without reason! It is unacceptable!”

You genuinely laughed at that point, “I’m sorry what? Your son told you that I made fun of HIM? Have you ever looked at your precious son’s phone?” 

“Y/N shut up. You know what you’ve done.” Mr. Beck’s son snapped. Spencer found the phrasing quite odd. His demeanor was off putting, and he didn’t seem nervous at all. Granted, he could be in shock. Spencer recognized him, though, from pictures you’d shown him when complaining about pretty much every student in school, “You know you came up to me randomly. You know you harass me literally all of the time, and for what?”

Spencer noticed that this kid didn’t look anyone in the eye when he spoke, but slightly behind them.

“Mr. Beck, did Y/N ever say why she hit your son?”

“What does it matter what she says? She cannot be trusted and this behavior is not new. My son would not lie about this.” Mr. Beck sounded offended. 

“As a staff member, though, you shouldn’t let your biases get in the way.”

“She still physically harmed another student. Regardless of why, she must face consequences.” 

“Mr. Beck, it is only respectful to at least hear what she has to say.” Spencer argued. The young boy in the far seat’s face changed. He was nervous now. Mr. Beck sighed, and nodded towards you.

“Mr. Beck, this my come as a surprise to you, but I was NOT harassing your son. He was harassing another girl between classes. She had sent nudes to him, and then I don’t know if they had a falling out or something, but she was trying to like, I don’t know, break up with him I guess and he was following her around and pushed her up against a locker and tried to like, kiss her even though she said no. So I punched him, and then he threatened to send those pictures of her to everyone.” you stated, “Mr. Beck honestly, I’m many things, but a bully isn’t one of them. And no offense, but the last person I’m interested in even looking at is freaking Kyle Beck of all people.” you ranted. Spencer realized then that you were being genuine. You were a good liar to the naked eye, but always gave off the basic tells that Spencer could pick up on when you weren’t being truthful.

It was then that Spencer’s disappointment actually changed to pride. Although he didn’t condone the violence, he understood that you were a loner of sorts, and appreciated that you’d stand up for someone like that.

“Dad, she’s so full of crap! I would never do that, you know me!” he yelled. Reid noticed the small tremor in his voice, and quick change of behavior. 

“Y/N, I know I raised my son differently.” 

“Check his phone.” you said. 

“I know what he does.” Mr. Beck snapped.

“Sir, I believe she’s telling the truth. I say this as unbiased as I can, but I can tell when she’s lying. I am a profiler, you know.” Reid backed you up. He didn’t usually pull out the profiler card, but reading the room, now seemed like a good time. Mr. Beck was taken back for a moment before sighing, and his son’s face completely drained of color when asked to unlock the device.

It wasn’t long after that that the truth came to the surface. Your sentence went from expulsion to a month’s worth of detention.

Walking to the car, Spencer said, “You know Y/N, I don’t condone the violence, and don’t exactly agree with the way you handled that, but I am proud of you for sticking up for that girl.”

“Yeah.” you replied. He noticed that you didn’t seem happy, but more so upset.

“Y/N, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m profiler, Y/N. You know I don’t believe that.” he said. You sighed.

“I don’t mean to disappoint you all the time,” you started as Reid’s heart sank, “I know you should be out there saving people rather than staying here and dealing with me. I’m not worth the time. I don’t know why I’m this way, I’m really sorry.”

“Y/N...” Spencer realized his mistake, “I was just stressed when I said that. You’re not a disappointment and shouldn’t apologize for just being who you are. Don’t undermine your importance, either. You mean more to me than the job.”

You smiled, “So does this mean I can come with you and look at crime scenes?”

“Absolutely not.” Reid chuckled.

“Aw, but it would be so cool! I’ll be good I promise!”

“Y/N, crime scenes aren’t cool, and you would cause trouble before we even got there.” he said, jokingly, “I bet you would even try to fly the jet.”

“Oh my god, I never even thought about doing that. That’s such a good idea.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to come.” Reid smiled, as they both got in the car and drove towards home. Spencer appreciated the ten minute ride while he could, knowing he would be leaving soon after. 

[mrpenguinpants]

Diluc and Aether: Reassurance HCs

Hey! Honestly, unpopular opinion. I like Aether a lot more than Lumine and I’m so upset that when I rerolled for fun I picked Lumine. Now I’m locked in hahh. But that’s so cute anon, I adore emotionally unavailable men attempting to express empathy just to comfort someone. Thank you!! I’m glad you like my work and no problem^^ This is an outlet for me to SIMP and others to simp with me. Take care of yourself anon if you’re still out there and reading this 💕💕

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Today’s appreciation post goes to anon-iru. I’ve been seeing you pop up a lot recently so hi hehe. I see you’re a fellow human of the brain worms and honestly, if you actually pin the crackfic that I made for when you get cold. I have no words except for I feel both honoured and ashamed in myself haha.

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Diluc: Comfort HCs [reader ver]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Diluc and Aether: Reassurance HCs

Since Aether started his journey to find his sister, he’s met so many different people and so many things have occurred that he never had the time to rest and be with his thoughts. But after helping Albedo with his experiment and obtaining the festering desire sword, things seemed to have calmed down. The land of Inazuma was still closed off until he could find a way inside the region but until then, it’s just been him, Paimon, and Diluc. Albedo and Sucrose had left to conduct more research in their lab back in Mondstadt leaving the three of them to camp out for the night. Aether was developing a very deep appreciation for the pyro user since they had no reliable way to light torches without freezing to death. 

But now that everything was settled and the world moved on, Aether was left at a bit of a standstill. He was grateful for the temporary break but it also let him think. How was Lumine doing? Was she safe? Where was she now and would they ever reunite? He hoped that, where she was, she was doing okay. 

He might make jokes about Paimon being his emergency food but he really was grateful she was here. It used to only be him and his twin, traveling throughout the universe until that Unknown God had separated them and he found himself here on Teyvat. Even now he can still feel the nightmares crawl behind his back, waiting for him to sleep before striking. 

Aether is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels a heavy coat rest on his shoulders, turning to see Diluc looking at him in concern. At least, that’s what Aether thinks is concern. Diluc’s range of emotions is limited to say the least but Aether smiles thankfully as he pulls the warm coat in further. He’s come to learn that Diluc isn’t one for talking and prefers to show his worry through actions. Diluc never pushes for Aether to talk, something he’s grateful for since Paimon can get a bit nosy, but he really needs an outlet right now.

It’s silent between the two before Aether let’s his emotions pour out, the nightmares of his sister walking away from him, that he’s unable to catch up to her no matter how fast he runs, being told by Lumine that he was too late. He wasn’t even sure what he was too late for. Diluc remains quiet as he listens along but Aether can’t help but feel that Diluc understands. That he’s been through the same situation and knows what Aether is going through. As sad as that seems, it’s comforting knowing he isn’t alone. Aether breathes heavily as he finishes his troubles, before bringing his knees up to his chest and cradles his head between his knees. He can hear Diluc shuffle a bit before he feels a warm hand being placed on his shoulder. Something to stabilize him and let him know he’s not alone. 

“I wonder how she’s doing right now...” Aether sighed as he stared down at his hands. It felt nice to get this off his chest but now that he did all he could feel was loneliness. No matter how many fights or pranks he had with her, he really really missed Lumine. He hoped that she was alright and that she was safe. Was she looking for him too? Once again, he’s snapped out of his sad thoughts when he feels Diluc reach over and pull his coat closer to Aether’s body and laying a hand on his head so he could place it on his shoulder. Aether hmms contently as he snuggles closer to Diluc’s warmth. It must be convenient to have a pyro vision, you can be your own personal heater.

“Aether, look at me,” Diluc whispered as Aether shifts his eyes to meet Diluc’s, “I’m sure she’s strong and capable if I have anything to base on her brother. Have faith in her like she would in you. Thoughts like those will only cripple you, instead use that frustration to your advantage and conquer your fears. I’m here with you. We will find her together.”

“Diluc...” Aether trails off. He never really took Diluc as one for comforting words but when Diluc offers a small but kind smile. He can’t help but smile back. He was right, there was no use in letting those fears get the best of him until he fulfilled his goal and reunited with Lumine. His eyes shine more determined as he nods to reassure himself, “Yeah...Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Diluc.”.

 “Of course,” Diluc nods as he observes Aether. He managed to pull him out of his loneliness, just for a bit, but Diluc knows perfectly well that it doesn’t last for long. “Tell me about your sister, was she as daring as you?” 

Aether laughs as he reminisces to Diluc about the weird antics he and his sister got up to. From doing rock-paper-scissors to decide who would run errands while the other would slack off. To when Lumine proclaimed she was the oldest and strongest between the two, trying to show him new techniques and tricks while he would pretend he hadn’t seen her and was distracted by a butterfly. Even to when they accidently pranked a high ranking official and almost started a war before quickly dipping out of sight once the situation was cleared up. 

“From the sound of things, you both seemed to be trouble makers,” Diluc chuckled along with Aether laugh before he gave a small yawn. It was getting pretty late, “Rest Aether, we can continue our search tomorrow.” 

“Mm, okay. Good night Diluc,” Aether smiles, after all this talking and finally getting the heavy burden off his chest he was getting pretty tired. He yawns once more as he leans more into Diluc’s side before slipping into sleep. This was nice, hearing the fire crackle, the comforting arm around him, the heavy coat that shielded him. It felt safe. That night, whenever he felt those same nightmares creep up, they are quickly chased away by red flames. 

---

Classes start today and I already want to commit sleep. I’m already getting emails from my profs about due dates and we haven’t even talked about the first project. Why do I have a graded discussion let me live a bit.

Istg HCs to me are just fics without dialogue. Because I suck at dialogue lol. Not sure if I’m up to write another full fic today since I kinda want to enjoy my break while it’s still here [cough unless you wanna commission imjustsaying].

Tomorrow is XIAO CONTENT! oh and diluc too. He’s there too. 

[kimnjss]

im gonna be honest with you lol: i told you i wasn't reading this smau because of uni, but the latest updates had me hooked and here i am. i liked this post at like 1:00 AM bc i was half asleep, and later on i was in the middle of my psychology class and made the connection that this is the continuation of that cliffhanger and i was like "OH FUCK, GOTTA READ". so:

And it sucked because the both of them were so important to you, there was no way you could deal with the two of them hating each other. And what if one of them were asking you to choose? Because while Taehyung was your oldest and dearest friend, you didn’t want to end up having to lose Namjoon just to keep him.

oooooooof??????

“I put extra strawberry syrup on ours just how you like it,” He says with a wide grin, proud of himself and you don’t have the heart to tell him you’re not the biggest fan of strawberries anymore.

omg nooooo :(((((((((((((((((((

you’re quickly noticing that he’s saving some for later. Most likely for Jungkook. And the cuteness of it has a very real smile spreading across your features, they were so in love.

AUCH?

But you can’t help but feel like something was missing. You just couldn’t place what it was, because you’re laughing as much as you do and you’re not sad. It just feels… weird?

she is realizing shit UUUUUUH

Which probably explains why you’re perking up the moment you’re seeing Namjoon again… You don’t think twice about breaking out of Taehyung’s grasp and making your way over.

my heart aw

but the pretty smile Joon sends you keeps you from feeling weird about it.

the way his mood shifts when tae comes around :( aaaaaaaaaah stop

You don’t miss the way Joon’s brow lifts at the label, eyes shifting between the two of you. And he can’t help himself. “Oh. You guys talked everything out, then?” The small smile Tae had been wearing before quickly shifts into a scowl. “What are you talking about?”

OMG IDK WHAT THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT BUT OMG

And you kiss him back, not missing out on the mind-numbing feeling that comes with it. But it doesn’t lift your features the way it normally does. The way it’s supposed to.

i almost choked on my water trying to supress my scream

“He’s not pissed at you. He just doesn’t like me,” Sure to keep his tone even, but he just sounds bored. Emotionless. And it has you scoffing, because how could he not care!? You’ve made it a point this entire trip to get along with his friends and he couldn’t even try to do the same for you? “And you don’t care?” This time, you do mean to sound as harsh as you do.

im just O.O

Taehyung is rolling his eyes, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Not really. He seems like a dick anyway.” And that truly sets you off, because how dare he!?

WTF, I GASPED??????

He was the one who put the pieces of you back together after Taehyung was leaving. He’s who has been there for you through all the breakups and meltdowns.

i'm just gonna say this: the realization is there, but i need her to think THROUGH and ABOUT it

“Unless… do you like him?” Face hard and body moving back from yours.

OH OHS JCNASCIASJCISJCISAHF8 HELP

You literally never given him a reason to doubt anything from you…

not explicitly at least…

He’s even mad at your stupid roommate for introducing you to the fucker. But not you. Never you. You were everything to him. The warmth and comfort that he needed. His little bit of peace in this fucked up world.

? :( :( :( :(

His grin feels slimy and you’re about two seconds from lifting your knee into his crotch when he’s being pulled from you, Taehyung’s strong fist holding him by his collar.

oh fuck

And you had imagined that after all these years he would’ve grown out of it… but maybe you were wrong. “What do you mean? This is the first time?” They both look genuinely confused and you’re sure your expression matches theirs. For entirely different reasons. “Yeah, Taehyung doesn’t fight…” Jimin adds with a scratch of his head. Maybe you were right. Maybe Taehyung had changed.

i'm fucking speechless omg

YOU CONTINUE TO AMAZE ME WITH EVERY AU, MA'AM.

AHHH ! i loved reading your little reactions awww :((( i'm so glad you liked this part tooo !! yn nd tae are a mess nd poor joon is so over dealing with them . but it's :/ bc yk they do have love for each other nd they want things to work - they just don't know how to do that . hopefully as the story comes to a close they'll be able to figure it out nd learn how to navigate their feelings without things getting too hard :(((