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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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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.

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dinogoose · 3 years ago

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(doing this thing called; scrapped saturday! where I post a fic that’s never going to be finished because I scrapped it)

Death has always been a strange phenomenon. Every day people are taken to the other side, gone forever. As humans we can never fully grasp the concept. We can’t even understand what forever means. Not truly.

The way we honor those who have died, is by grieving them. We bury their bodies, we spread their ashes, we celebrate their lives.

Sometimes however, people die, and no one grieves them. They sit in graves, never to be visited. Their memories dissipating into the Earth. Their corpses rotting, without anyone to hold onto them.

Buck has always feared this would happen to him. His entire life he has practically been a ghost. His parents never saw him, rarely even acknowledging him. His sister leaving him. People only stay with him when they want something, then once receiving that they leave, abandoning him forever. He’s sure once he dies, no one will mourn.

So, because he fully understands what it’s like to be nothing, he has decided to remember everyone he can. Grieve people, so they won’t be forgotten, like he soon will be.

Midnight, every night, Buck heads to the cemetery. He brings all of his cleaning supplies, and a journal. The journal is used to write down the names of each person in the cemetery, so he can remember them even when he moves on.

He cleans at night so he doesn’t disturb mourners.

The job itself doesn’t make too much money, but that was never the point. Buck has just always been drawn to the dead, and he wants to make sure they are properly respected. So that they can experience a peaceful eternal rest.

He approaches the first grave, kneeling in front of it. Taking out his journal he copies down the name, date, and the message displayed on the grave marker. He knows he shouldn’t do this, it borders on creepy, but god- he cannot let these people be forgotten.

Closing the journal, he places it back into his bag. He opens up the jug of water he has, and pours it overtop the tombstone. After this he takes his sponge, rubbing in a circular motion, scraping off the dirt. Finally he takes the water back out and soaks it again, rinsing away the dirt. Typically he repeats this once or twice- just to ensure it’s clean.

He’s dabbing the grave with a towel when the rustling of grass alerts him. He whips his head up to see a man standing at the foot of a grave. The man just comes to a full stop, not sitting, not moving, just standing there.

Buck can’t help but watch him.

The man drops to his knees, hard, so hard Buck swears the ground shakes. Then he reaches out to the grave, hand hovering mid-air until he jerks it back, never actually touching it.

(here it is! my grave cleaner au that is never going to be finished because I realized how creepy it was.)

#911 show #911 fox #buddie #911 fic #buddie fic #911 fanfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #scrapped #is this weird?

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soracities · 4 years ago

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Hello! I'm kinda having problems allowing myself to FEEL the feelings of love for my partner because though we love each other so much, they talk about leaving for another country someday and they're very serious about it, and they would have to marry me in order to take me with them... So I think we may have an expiration date, and that makes me avoid vulnerability and while I felt butterflies before I knew of their intention to leave, now I only feel vague anxiety and nothing good, because in my mind it's over already and I had better protect myself, so allowing myself to really feel all that love is dangerous. But I miss feeling that way, and what we have is so beautiful :( I wish I could make the most of it.

I think this is something you really need to discuss with your partner, lovely, as openly and honestly as possible. "Someday" is an incredibly vague and nebulous concept for you to be making such a decision about already, especially when you haven't discussed the details (no matter how serious they may be about leaving for somewhere else, talking about it and an intention aren’t the same as a fixed timeline with a date which is something concrete you can actually go with and base a decision around); it is also very unfair to your partner if you are beginning to check out emotionally without airing any of your fears or concerns with them.

It may feel like it, but love is not the real danger here: the real danger is what you may deprive yourself of and spend years afterwards wishing you hadn’t. If you both decide, when the time comes, that you need to end your relationship, no matter how much it may hurt you to have to let go of something so precious, it will hurt you a great deal more to look back on it and feel you wasted the time you had left by ending things prematurely out of fear. Fear is natural, and it's okay to feel this way. But in the grand scheme of things, fear is a blink of the eye and very little else. The fear doesn't stay (if anything, in hindsight, it often seems utterly absurd to us -- "is that what I was so terrified of?"), but I promise you that regret does and it is a far more difficult and painful thing to try to come to terms with. And while you may not be able to change the outcome of your relationship, you can absolutely change what the landscape of it looks like, for both of you.

I also think that the notion of an expiration date hides a lot of what a relationship actually is and holds for us. There are countless different relationships that will come to pass in the course of our lives; the fact that something may end (and most things will, whether we like it or not) does not mean it wasn’t worth the time, care, and effort we put into it. Permanence is not the only marker of a worthy or important relationship; if we treated it as such we would lose so much potential joy because you can make this argument for anything: what’s the point in befriending the exchange student if they will be gone after a year and you’re unlikely to meet again? what’s the point in adopting a dog, or any pet, really, knowing we will almost certainly outlive them? why bother making friendly small talk with the barista, the fruit vender, the sales clerk, if it’s not going to lead to a lifelong friendship? why bother planting almost literally anything in your garden knowing it’s going to be withered and ugly and irrevocably dead and dry in 3 to 6 months?

You can use this argument, too, to avoid any and all potential romantic encounters because: well, what is the point? But the question is this: just because a relationship has ended sooner than you thought it would, can you honestly say that you loved that person any less? The way every aspect of most of our society dramatises Romance makes it seem like the end all and be all; you must find your ever after and you must do so immediately. But as far as I’m concerned, the point is not longevity here; the point is what you come out of these interactions with. And what you come out with is a deeper, fuller, gentler, and more knowing sense of what love is, what it can be, should be (or should not be). And that carries on into every interaction you have after the fact. It enriches so many disparate parts of your life years after the relationship itself ends. That was the point. If you know what love is it’s because x, and y, and z, in the little fragments left behind from the collision of your lives, have shown it to you.

This feels as though it has meandered a bit, and I don’t want this to come across as presumptuous. Everyone has different views on relationships and these are just mine but it’s the only place I can really speak from on. And for me I know is that if I am with someone I love, and if I know that two years from now I no longer will be, I cannot throw away that love without doing some kind of injustice to the nature of it, as I am living and experiencing it. Because I’m not living in the two years from now (or the someday). Neither am I living, anymore, in the before. I’m living now. This person, and I, are here, now. And I would lose something irreplaceable if I substituted that for a future which does not exist yet, for a reality that I cannot touch or know or reach at whatsoever. I think, before you jump into a big emotional decision here, you need to remember that "someday" does not exist yet either. What exists is here and now and you are loving this person here and now. And you need to look at what they mean to you -- what they really mean to you -- and base your decision on this. Not fear, not a someday. You have to decide, if this is someone you love and cherish so dearly, what it is you are willing to give right now. Grief, I think, in all relationships is inevitable; but I think it may also help to remember that, with the things and people we love and who have meant so much, though the grief may seem unendurable, you will always endure it and emerge from it. And this is because it only ever hurts as much as its been worth. I don’t know if any of this will help, but I hope you get something out of it x

#but literally please do talk to your partner anon you need to communicate these things no matter how difficult it may feel #ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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matrose · 3 years ago

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two tag games today!!! 💘🫂🌲 ill put them under the readmore in one post !

tagged by @lesbianhaleth for this one !! thank you! 💞💎🍃💚🌿❣️

five movies/shows

succession. very good show very excited for season 4 and to collectively go insane again with the dash...fun times..

everything everywhere all at once. movie of all time!!! i need to watch it twenty million times!!

ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga. movie of all time two!! ive watched it many times and cried everytime ❤️

in this corner of the world. yes this one makes me cry too of course. i only like movies that make me cry

okay. wintertime is coming up basically but not really but like. i saw this movie while i was scrolling through my list on netflix because i cant remember anything and i saw it and i had to put it because its everything... drei haselnüsse für aschenbrödel!!!! THE nostalgia movie. love the silly beautiful costumes and aschenbrödel was my first crush and the music means everything to me....wah

four songs

sooo difficult to choose just four!! ill go with... long lost - lord hurin. this song.... i feel understood ❣️

shouldve been me - mitski. ive been loving her new album and i especially love the. hm. i lack the right words. i dont even know the german word for the instrument (sound?) it seems!! the one at the beginning that reappears again and again!! argh! i love it a lot

boots worn through - shayfer james. i like this one a lot and i listened to it basically on repeat during any calm alone moment, usually in the evenings while the sun was setting, when we were camping, so i get a lot of nice feeling associations with this song!!

ships - wallners. very calming...like it a lot!

three essentials (excluding food, water, phone)

hmm my portable charger... i have nearly all my books on my phone and i love love taking pictures so i want it to stay on!!

i could say something like ID here but isnt that a bit boring... i have very little in my bag unless its a special occasion!! a pen then, id say. you always need a pen! or pencil or anything. marker. ill take it

actually one thing i do always have in my bag is those reusable fruit and vegetable nets you use to avoid plastic bags !! a nice cashier gave me some for free for no discernible reason and ive had them in my bag ever since in case i spontanously decide i need to buy carrots or kiwis 💚

two books

very very mean to only have two here. how can i choose. ill just put the two im currently actively reading which areee octavia e. butlers parable of the sower which i love very much and

the giant epub of all asoiaf books....!!!

one quote

not very good at memorizing quotes i fear... one thing that i marked and that stuck with me, is what lauren olamina in parable of the sower says about her younger half-brother keith: "I hated Keith at least as much as I loved him." its a difficult relationship and i cried reading about it, because it was well written and evocative and emotional and a tragedy, and also because i have a very complicated relationship with my own younger half-brother as well. i like this book a lot 💛

the second one!! tagged by @sunlighthairs thank youuu 🥰🌿💓🌿🌲🍃💚

relationship status: single but i fall in love with atleast one person per day

favorite color(s): blue means everything to me. yes this wavelenght of light IS special it is so special. to me and everyone else. its everywhere but sooo rare!! how funny!!! i also love green and it makes me so happy. just look at my header! all my favorite colors! 🏔

favorite food: i love anything with broccoli as long as its properly seasoned....at my grandmas birthday celebration they served broccoli without even SALT!! my cousin snuck into the kitchen for us and found some salt which saved it atleast a bit...otherwise i really enjoy roasted chestnuts but theyre expensive...very special snack. this reminds me that i need to go acorn collecting to try out the perhaps prehistoric acorn recipe we talked about in one of my archaeobotanical classes...it might be very good it might be very bad it might be very bland. hm!

song stuck in my head: misty mountains................... i am a one trick pony

last thing you googled: waldmistkäfer =^)

time: while typing this it is 23:33 (11:33 pm) but by the time i post it will be a bit later i suspect 🧐

dream trip: !!!! oh! oh!!!! unrealistically unethically grandiosely i would want to go to australia...i would have to take the plane and it would take forever and i think this is a long time dream because of 1) watching h2o just add water as a child 2) not being afraid of spiders and bugs and snakes since childhood which i prided myself in and as such wanted to go to the stereotypical dangerous animals place... realistically and ecologically conciously i would want to take the train to the mountains again to go on a long very long long looong hike. i miss the mountains so much and itll be sometime until i can see them again... oh i also want to go to britain to look at some caves theres some really good caves there . sorry these are three dream trips...!

last thing you read: i finished a chapter of parable of the sower just a few minutes ago =)

last book you enjoyed reading: well...see previous answer... i enjoy reading most books, even the really bad ones because i like to be a bit of a hater...

favorite thing to cook/bake: i love making almost anything!! i really enjoy cooking chicken korma/a vegan alternative with potato and spinach because i have so much fun blending the sauce!!!! otherwise i also love making any kinds of soup..pumpkin cauliflower broccoli pea potato. put it in the soup!!!!!

favorite craft to do in your free time: !!!!! thank god its specified to craft!! i really like drawing on my tablet but i love love painting on canvases though thats sadly much more expensive for each piece but i just love getting a little crazy with it. when i was 11 i accidentally put a huge black spot on the carpet because the black paint overtook me. and this is niche but i love organizing scavenger hunts !! last time i put a wax seal hid it in one of the old books my grandparents gave me and pretended i just wanted to look at the pictures with the kids when oh!! an old burned looking letter adressed to THEM fell out!! what a surprise what a coincidence! sadly they got so excited one of them ended up falling and badly scraping her knee but after that we continued and i think they had lost of fun ❣️ putting that all together and making up all the riddles for the steps was really really fun

most niche dislike: hm. cars? is that niche? i dont like cars and i usually dont like being in one unless my mom is driving and i dont like highways...

opinion on circuses: i havent ever been to a circus 🤔 as long as the artists are properly paid and theres no animals getting mistreated (elephants and tigers and the like should not be traveling with circuses in small cages...if you want to put on a little dog show or whatever go for it but leave the elephants out of it) i see no problems with them and theyre probably really fun !

do you have a sense of direction? i think yes... not super perfect but if ive walked a path before i can retrace it no problem and being able to see the sun always helps. not good with the stars though 💔⭐️

im too shy to tag anyone!!!! if youve read this far and havent done this youre officially tagged by me 🥰❣️

#WOW!! long post!!!

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destiniesfic · 4 years ago

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132 Hours, Chapter 15

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I protest. “You hurt me all the time.”

Check out the fic playlist!

Read chapter 15 on AO3 or read below:

The day is bright and pleasant, but the sunlight and soft breeze are an assault on my senses after my time underground. I limp to the ambulance, which is parked on the grass, rear doors open, waiting for me. I ease myself to sit in the back, next to Cardan, who inexplicably has a blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders. When I’m no longer standing, I sigh. I’d thought that after sitting and lying down for days I’d be desperate to move, but it turns out I’m actually very tired. When no one is looking at us, Cardan leans over and nuzzles my nose with his.

I smile at him weakly. Everything is too much and not enough. It seems to me that I am watching Madoc and Balekin talk to the detectives from very far away, like they are characters on a TV show. I just want to go back to the Amagansett house—or my actual house, hours away—and curl up in a bed that’s mine. But that fantasy leads to complications too. What will Oriana say when she learns what I’ve done? What will Taryn say?

Not wanting to spiral, I search for anything else to talk about. “Are you cold?” I ask Cardan, glancing at the blanket.

“Oh, no. It’s for shock or something.” He looks down at himself. His kitschy t-shirt is partially obscured now. “But, you know, free blanket.”

“Yeah,” I say, like that makes perfect sense. My head is spinning. “Was Balekin… happy to see you?”

He sets his jaw. “He was glad I wasn’t dead, I guess. But that’s about the only thing I did right.”

I look down as my fingers curl into my palms. I don’t examine how much I want to wrap my hands around Balekin’s throat. “My dad knows,” I whisper. “About us. I think I’ve talked him out of killing you.”

“That’s good. I’d really rather not die after surviving all of this already.”

“You’re taking this really well.”

Cardan shrugs. “If we’re bonded now, and your father isn’t going to kill me, that means I’m part of your family. Dain is dead, and Balekin will find it harder to touch me.”

“Oh,” I say dully. No wonder he wasn’t that mad at me mating him. We can’t stay in the basement forever, but he still has a way out. It makes sense. I can hardly blame him.

“Not that I’m necessarily thrilled that your dad could have any sway over me, given that he’s maybe a murderer and almost as scary as you are.”

“Right.”

He cocks his head at me, sensing my reticence. “Jude.”

I look away.

He leans over again and nudges the nape of my neck with his nose. “Hey.”

“What.”

Cardan chuckles, but it sounds nervous. “Jude, I’ve thought about mating with you since I was fourteen. And back then it made me feel panicky and trapped—”

“That’s just what every omega wants to hear.”

“God dammit. Look, I’ve always been afraid to want things—not clothes and shoes and shit, things that matter—because they’re always ruined. I always screw them up, or someone else screws it up for me. This is…” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look down at his hands. “I didn’t want it to happen this way, because who would? But I want to help you through the next heat, and the next one. Actually do it right. I want to be your mate, Jude.”

I turn back around to stare at him, incredulous. “You want that?”

He nods, slowly.

“But you—you didn’t. For days, you didn’t. You held off and it should have been impossible if you actually—wanted me.”

“Well, it felt impossible.” He lets out another nervous chuckle. “I wanted you so bad, but more than that I wanted you to want me. I didn’t want to just go and mount you or whatever the hell I’m supposed to do. For once, I wanted to be better. Sounds crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “It does. You wanted to mate with me so bad that you didn’t mate with me.”

“Jude. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I protest. “You hurt me all the time.”

“Yeah, I did.” Cardan looks down at his knees. “But not like that. Never like that. I may have made some off-color jokes, but I would never have done what Valerian tried to do. I mean, I hoped I wouldn’t, and now I know.”

“You made me miserable.”

“I know.”

“I definitely shouldn’t want you as a mate.”

“No, I guess you shouldn’t.” Cardan sounds resigned, and hangs his head. “Well, the pheromone marker cleansing is kind of time-consuming and expensive and unpleasant, but I guess—”

I thought hurting him might feel good, but it just feels like a hollow pang in my chest. I ask, “You want me to be your mate, though?”

He looks up at me with those dark eyes. “Yes,” he says.

I nod. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He stares at me, a grin that he doesn’t dare unleash just yet tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes. I hated you so much for so long because you smelled so good and you were so mean. So if you could stop being mean for a while, and you’ve proven you have, I think we could find some common ground.”

Cardan sniffs. “Well, I may have to remain a little mean. For the sake of my reputation.”

“We’ll see.”

“You don’t want me totally defanged, do you?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He laughs, then he lowers his head to nuzzle again, this time at the bite mark he left on my neck. I am flooded by his delight. From nearby, someone clears their throat. We look up to find a paramedic standing in front of us, face half-hidden by a surgical mask, patiently waiting for us to submit ourselves to examination.

“Oh,” I say. “Uh.”

Cardan, who is utterly without shame, is grinning when he straightens up. “Actually, we’re both fine, thanks.”

“That’s for us to determine,” says the paramedic. Something about him is oddly familiar, but his height and build are totally nondescript. Where could I have seen him before? “To start, we’re going to make sure you’re not concussed.”

Cardan just groans.

The paramedic bends at the waist and takes a penlight out of his pocket. “Just look into the light here for me.”

That voice. It’s the voice. I narrow my eyes at him. It is weird, on second thought, that he’s wearing a mask. It’s not like we’re possibly carrying an infectious disease. Cardan raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t move as the light shines into one pupil. “This is a surprise,” he says, without blinking. “And also, you have to admit, pretty dumb.”

“Suicidal,” I hiss through my teeth. I’m strangely angry. They had to know what a risk it was to come back. They could have gotten away clean. “What are you guys doing here? If my dad catches you—”

“Are you going to tell him?” the Roach asks. He doesn’t sound too worried, which irks me.

I press my lips together, then say, “I should.”

Another of the paramedics kneels at my feet, his sandy head bent. The Ghost. Certainly less conspicuous than the Roach, with his scars. He’s tall, sure, but handsome in a way that’s totally generic. In fact, I’d have a difficult time describing him beyond “tall” and “symmetrical.” He picks up the leg that he shot to dress the wound, once again.

“We had to talk to you,” he says. Always to the point.

Suddenly I am sure that if I turned and looked behind me into the ambulance, the Bomb would wink at me from the driver’s seat. Part of me is relieved they’re okay, and the other part is baffled and horrified at my relief. But they did take care of us through some pretty gross and awful times. They kept me fed, kept me hydrated, kept us company. Maybe it’s natural to feel some degree of attachment.

“Why?” Cardan asks, baffled, as the Roach shines a light in his other eye. “You guys should be on a plane to Morocco by now.”

“Morocco?” I ask.

“It’s pretty. Also, no extradition policy.”

“Why do you even know that?”

Cardan shrugs.

“Look,” the Roach says, “we’re short on time. Your brother and Madoc are going to come over and tell you Dain killed himself out of shame when his plan was discovered. He left a note, confessing, yadda yadda. It’s bullshit. He didn’t commit suicide.”

“What?” Cardan and I ask, in unison.

I shake my head, as if trying to shake off our now unshakeable connection. “Then what happened to him?”

The Ghost doesn’t say anything, or even fully turn his head, but without lifting his eyes from my leg, he somehow indicates where Madoc and Balekin stand, in conversation with the police.

“No,” I whisper. It sounds naive, even to me, but I don’t want to believe Madoc is capable of those horrors, even though the fear our kidnappers expressed when they spoke of him seemed real. “No, it—Dain was a client, he and Madoc were friends—”

“Do you think that would matter if Dain went after Madoc’s family?” the Roach asks.

My stomach turns. “How do you know Dain didn’t kill himself?”

“Because he wouldn’t,” Cardan says quietly. “He’s Dain. He’d think he’s clever enough to find a way out, even if everyone was closing in on him, and he’d probably be right.”

“We don’t know exactly what happened,” the Roach continues. He makes a show of fiddling with the stethoscope around his neck. “We just know that he was increasingly agitated about the way negotiations were going, and then we suddenly had no contact. I went to his office, then to his place. Coroner beat me there. Single gunshot wound to the chest, pistol with his prints on it. Seemed open and shut.”

I sense Cardan’s horror, and look to see that he’s gone pale. I lay my hand on top of his. Something tells me that he doesn’t have much of an issue believing that Balekin is capable of murder, even of a brother. And Cardan clearly didn’t like Dain, but what does that mean for his safety?

“You couldn’t have waited around and told us this in the basement?” I ask, feeling again like I am observing this all from afar, watching a scene in a movie that just happens to star me.

“We didn’t know what Dain told them before he died, so we had to clear out pretty fast. Left your stuff with the cops so you’d be found, left the door unlocked so you could leave whenever you wanted. Besides.” He raises one eyebrow. “You guys were busy.”

I flush; it’s true that Cardan and I couldn’t and wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere once we’d finally given ourselves over to each other. But all of this is too much. “Well, we can’t trust you.”

“You can’t trust your dad,” the Ghost says. “We’ve never lied to you.”

“You did shoot her,” Cardan points out. “Most people would say that’s worse.”

The Ghost just shrugs.

“Look, believe us or don’t,” the Roach says. “But you have to admit that something’s rotten here. You’re going to need help. Eyes and ears. And I also hear that one of you is coming into a very large sum of money and a considerable amount of corporate influence in a little less than a year.”

“There it is,” I mutter.

But Cardan looks delighted. “Do you guys have a business card you can leave with me or something?”

“Are you planning to kidnap anybody?” I demand.

“No, but I could use the help,” Cardan admits. “He’s right. Once I come into that inheritance, there’s going to be a huge target on my back.”

“We’ll call you. In the meantime, you’ve got a clean bill of health.” The Roach pats his shoulder. “Good for you.”

“Thanks, man.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two figures break away from the detectives and begin approaching us. I say, “You’d better clear out.”

The Roach doesn’t thank me, but he gives me a little nod before disappearing around the side of the ambulance, whistling. That’s what passes for honor among thieves, I suppose. The Ghost remains, having drawn the short straw, his generically handsome features apparently working to render him inconspicuous.

“How is she?” Madoc asks him. I make myself look up at his face and try not to think about how, if what the Roach said is true, he might have recently pulled the trigger on one of Cardan’s brothers. The other brother stands next to him, looking less sour than before.

The Ghost stands. “They’re both good to go,” he says. “It looks like she sprained her ankle a few days ago, but it’s healing well.”

“The wound on her leg?”

“Nothing serious.”

Madoc nods, and then turns to me. The Ghost melts back into the scenery as though he wasn’t even there to begin with. No mystery as to how he got that codename.

Balekin stands at Madoc’s side, both men casting shadows across our knees. Madoc’s arms are folded, and Balekin’s jaw is set. I see his eyes find my hand resting on top of Cardan’s, but for some reason I am not at all worried about censure. Not from him.

Balekin says, “We’ve been given leave to take you back to your homes to rest, provided you return tomorrow to give your statements to the police. No one here wishes to… prolong your ordeal.”

“Wait,” I say, my heartbeat picking up in my chest. “Wait. Nobody’s told us what’s going on. Where’s Dain? How do we know he won’t try again?”

“He’s dead,” Madoc declares. “When he realized he wasn’t going to get away with it, that he had no other recourse…”

I swallow. I had hoped he’d say something else, anything else. “Oh. I see.”

Cardan covers his discomfort with a snicker. “Well, good riddance.”

“We’re hoping you can help us fill in the rest of the gaps once you’re up to sharing what, exactly, happened over the past five days,” Balekin says.

“I don’t know how much help we’ll be,” Cardan replies, shrugging loosely. “If it was Dain, we never saw him. And the guys who took us all wore masks.”

I’m surprised at how easily he lies, but maybe I shouldn’t be. I have to reevaluate everything I thought about his childhood; it probably involved a lot of lying to Balekin. Madoc doesn’t seem to notice anything, and it’s hard to get bullshit by him. He just watches me with a quizzical expression.

“Well, maybe you’ll remember something useful after you’ve had your rest.” Balekin jerks his head toward the waiting car, already beginning to walk away, assuming Cardan will follow. “Come on.”

Cardan glances at me with uncertainty, then begins to stand. I take his hand again and pull him back down. “No.”

Balekin turns around. “What did you say?”

I stand now, keeping hold of Cardan’s hand. “I said ‘no.’ I’m sure you have business back in the city. Cardan can come stay with us.” I look at Madoc and try to reassure myself that he is the safer choice. “There’s plenty of room in the house.”

“There is,” Madoc agrees, his tone carefully neutral.

“So it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Balekin looks angry. He doesn’t want to lose his influence on Cardan. “That’s very generous, but I have just gotten my youngest brother back, and I’m not eager to let him out of my sight.”

“He’ll be under Madoc’s protection.”

“You have to admit, it does seem safer,” Cardan chimes in. He seems a little dumbstruck by the way the whole situation is unfolding. Maybe no one’s ever stood up to Balekin before. Certainly

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Balekin says, trying to loom over me. He is tall, but tall doesn’t faze me. “I’m his brother. I’ve been his guardian since he was a child. I will be taking him back.”

“Well, Cardan isn’t a child anymore. He’s an adult, and I’m his mate,” I say, sticking up my chin. “And he is coming with me.”

I yank hard on Cardan’s hand, bringing him to his feet, and start off toward the car Madoc came in. Out of the corner of my eye I see Cardan, smiling, give his brother a shrug. “Omegas,” he says. “What are you gonna do?”

What, indeed. I don’t even know what I am going to do. Everything that happened in the last one hundred and thirty-two hours seems to have pushed us so much further down the road to a strange and dangerous adulthood. I don’t know if either of us are ready for what lies ahead, much less ready to defy our dangerous parental figures or negotiate the relationship we’ll have once I’m in college.

But it doesn’t matter, not right now. Because I have just pulled off a bigger heist than the Ghost, the Roach, and the Bomb could ever dream of. Because Cardan’s hand is in mine. Because his smile is, as always, contagious, so I am smiling too. Because we survived our trial, so maybe we can survive anything. Because he would choose me, and I chose him. Because neither of us is alone. Because he is my mate.

The rest, we’ll figure out when it comes.

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #judecardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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phlox238 · 4 years ago

Text

i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?"

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together.

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min."

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms.

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy."

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms.

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled.

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago." Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man."

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone."

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really.

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her."

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?"

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment.

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again.

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?"

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't."

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer.

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay."

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed.

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of.

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed.

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected.

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough.

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat.

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once.

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile.

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head.

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice.

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me."

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding."

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment.

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't.

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people.

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on."

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women."

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay."

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible.

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop.

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too."

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up.

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't.

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke.

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder.

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?"

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement.

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too."

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

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rosethornewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Fics I read this week!

MDZS/The Untamed, entirely. Including Tumblr fics here now, even if I shared them as well.

A lot of these are super short since I decided to embark on a journey to clear my AO3 “Marked For Later” list of anything under 3k words by reading them.

This is also a lot of fanfiction and I might have a problem. Any fanfiction addict support groups out there?

Also, I learned that I can only post 100 links. So this is going up early and I’ll separate the Not Rated, E, and M ones into a different post for next week.

Finished:

Not Rated (or Tumblr fics):

Parents, by @bloody-bee-tea

Untitled, by @mondengel

Untitled, by @cerusee

Xue Yang - The Third Jade of Gusu, by inawritingfrenzy

As Long as You're Here, by Aitheriomeraki

You are the last person I need to tell me exactly what I already know. You’re going to tell me to go back to cultivating the righteous path. You’re going to tell me that this is against the principles of a cultivator. I’m going to hear you drone on and on about what’s wrong with what I’m doing. You’re going to tell me that I’m acting like a pure disgrace, completely out of line, extremely unhinged and unruly and every other word your Lan vocabulary can muster up.” His words felt heavy but unstoppable, tears making their way to his eyes.

“You’re-” He was about to continue before getting cut off.

“Wei Ying… zhiji.” Lan Wangji breathed out like a plea, like a prayer. -------------- OR Lan Wangji talks to Wei Wuxian the day after killing Wen Chao.

Things we lost in the fire, by KatAnni

Three instances in Lan Wangji's life that involved fire. One of them certainly ends better than the others.

OR Wangxian can be cute in any situation, even when someone sets fire to their inn.

Sleep Talk, by breezebrocolis

"...But being awakened through such ungodly hours is worth it after all, because Wei Wuxian discovered that, contrary to popular belief about his boyfriend's sleeping habits, there’s a moment when Lan Zhan sleep talks, and he's the only one who knows it."

and

"...for now, after all and a year more, he'd never choose to have those lonesome minutes back. It turns out that filling the gaps with emptiness was necessary once, but it doesn't really fit him anymore. Lan Wangji has Grace on his side for now, the print of Wei Ying's delicate fingers into his skin."

In other words, a study about WangXian's sleeping habits.

Hold On, by voxnoxsox

“And really,” Wei Ying continued, “it makes no sense. Why would they not want to hug you, Lan Zhan, or, like… Do you warn them off or something? Give them the ol’ icy Lan glare?”

“No,” Lan Zhan said, when it was clear a response was required. His mind was a little preoccupied with Wei Ying’s hands still running up and down, up and down.

Rated E:

The Dreams of Youth, by Sami (25 chapters)

"Mother, I have to go, with or without you. Please come with me."

"A-Zhan, you're five years old," she says.

"With or without you, Mother," he pleads. "Please come with me."

Lan Wangji starts again from the beginning.

Rough and Tumble, by SugarMilkTea (3 chapters)

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are paired together for sparring, because of course they are.

Wei Wuxian is better than the rest of the disciples, because of course he is - so Lan Wangji takes him to another field to train privately.

Things escalate, because of course they do.

and if we choose to fall (who's to say it isn't flight?), by KiaraSayre (2 chapters)

Wei Wuxian has an idea and makes a talisman. A sexy talisman.

to live this way is not for the meek, by la_muerta

Yiling Laozu and his band The Restless Dead are one of the biggest names in the rock scene, playing to thousands of screaming fans in sold-out concerts all over the world.

But underneath the black leather, makeup, and untouchable, arrogant facade is a side of Wei Ying that only Lan Zhan gets to see.

Awareness, by syriala (last in a series)

Awareness is slow to come to Jiang Cheng, mostly because he doesn’t want to be aware. He’s warm and comfortable and Jiang Xiuying is bound to be still around and that is really all Jiang Cheng needs in life.

But then there’s an open mouthed kiss to the hinge of his jaw, Jiang Xiuying slowly trailing his way down Jiang Cheng’s throat, and it’s enough to get Jiang Cheng’s eyes open, however reluctant he might be.

Jiang Xiuying seemingly knows him better than Jiang Cheng does himself because he is already looking up at Jiang Cheng, his eyes sparkling and a teasing grin on his lips.

“Good morning,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice still rough from sleep and Jiang Xiuying leans up to capture Jiang Cheng’s lips in a kiss.

The heat behind it tells Jiang Cheng exactly where Jiang Xiuying wants to take this today, and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he minds too much.

yours for the taking, by SugarMilkTea

“There’s still time to back out, you know,” Wei Ying says, quiet enough that even the attendants waiting at the corners of their table won’t hear.

Lan Wangji pauses in the middle of reaching for the sash on Wei Ying’s—on his husband’s—outer robes. A pit opens in his stomach. His hand falls to his lap, and he lifts his eyes to meet Wei Ying’s. “Is that what you want?”

---

The components of the marriage ceremony are easy in theory. The handfasting, the bows, the feast... and the Taking.

housed by your warmth, by wangxiians

wei wuxian may never grow to enjoy mornings but he enjoys this, he really enjoys this – stolen time together, bodies reuniting, waking up before the world.

Rated M:

Heaven Hath No Fury, by Lady Mythos (Lady_Mythos)

The two biggest mistakes Yu Ziyuan has made are as follows: assuming Wei Wuxian was the cause of all her problems and assuming Cangse Sanren was dead.

Or, Cangse Sanren has a lot of things to say to the bitch that abused her son.

weird and awkward, by sami (3rd in a series)

At the age of sixteen, Lan Zhan falls in love, somewhat against his will.

Have Your Cake and Eat it Too, by adrian_kres (4 chapters)

Like half of all sound-tied people, Wei Ying was born with words in his heart and needing the melody they belong to. It’s his soul marker, and he’s been searching for his soulmate his whole life. Things change when he hears a tune being hummed in a cafe that matches his lyrics perfectly. Except he didn’t see who was humming it! To help, his brother’s soulmate puts him in contact with the beautiful pianist Lan Wangji, who makes Wei Ying question if he wants to find his soulmate at all…

Until The End, by abCEE (40 chapters)

"When I - when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa - wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony -" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself -" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went up and down from there.

Breaking The Ice, by aflaminghalo

“Why are are you asking for punishment?”

Bring Your Honor, Bring Your Shame, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (21 chapters, third in a series)

Nie HuaiSang has a problem. His brother is losing his mind.

Rated T:

don't close your eyes, by howodd5ever

In which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian actually talk about the porn book.

Another Road, by Rynne

Something in the Guanyin Temple goes wrong. When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, he's fifteen again.

Phobia, by yougetsomekisses

What if Lan Wangji had been thrown in that dungeon with Wei Wuxian?

Snow Hunt, by InsanitysxCreation

A short scene of a winter hunt.

Entirely self indulgent, in that the idea of Lan Wangji in white leather gloves arrived in my brain and wouldn't let me continue until I'd written this.

真金不怕火炼 | True Gold Fears No Fire, by adrian_kres

In the immediate aftermath of a successful Sunshot Campaign, Wei Ying is kissed by Lan Zhan at the Phoenix Mountain Hunt while blindfolded. But when the blindfold comes off, Lan Zhan is nowhere to be found. Now, Wei Ying must deal with this heartbreak on top of forced therapy he was mandated to complete due to using demonic cultivation to end the war. Through it all, Wei Ying learns he has value, and that his assumptions about what happened at the hunt may not be entirely correct.

Fantasy, by snowberryrose (3 chapters)

In which Wen Qing leaves Or: Wen Qing rescues herself

Canon divergence from episode 20

Chapter 2: Qin Su’s choice Chapter 3: Xue Yang’s end

Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar, by masked (6 chapters)

“You know,” Ouyang Zizhen says thoughtfully over dinner one day, “I’ve never seen Wei-qianbei get jealous before.”

Lan Jingyi pauses for the briefest second, remembers the sect rule of keeping silence during meals, and decidedly forgoes it. “What?”

“Well,” Ouyang Zizhen continues, “Hanguang-jun always has a lot of admirers everywhere we go, but Wei-qianbei never seems to mind it.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Jin Ling asks flatly.

Four times Wei Wuxian doesn't get jealous, and the one time he does.

sweet dreams, by ShippersList

Distance won’t hinder Wei Wuxian from giving his Lan Zhan a goodnight kiss.

Sugar Baby, by nirejseki

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, and uh oh, that sounded like his ‘bad news’ voice. “We need to talk about your spending.”

That was worse than Nie Huaisang had thought.

“Is the talk going to be about how amazingly economical I am in making intelligent and aesthetically appropriate purchases?” he asked hopefully, clutching his latest and most aesthetic fan.

“Oddly enough,” his brother said, “no.”

Somehow, Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought so.

He was...No, He was Incompetent, by Corundum_Creations

He was Lan Wangji, a Twin Jade of the Lan Clan and he could face anything... so how did he become so incompetent with taking his Wei Ying and hiding him away?

The Resentful Cultivator Who Cried 'I'm Fine', by Mikkeneko

"Who's possessed?" another voice joined the scrum, and Wei Wuxian moaned in despair as Jiang Cheng came marching over to join the rest of the party, glaring daggers at Wei Wuxian for being the source of all this trouble. Purple lightning crackled on his wrist as his eyes narrowed. "This idiot got possessed? I can take care of that with Zidian! Stand back!"

"Ahaha, Jiang Cheng, there's no need for that!" he protested hurriedly. "Really, I'm not possessed!"

"Ah," Lan Jingyi nodded knowingly. "That's exactly what someone who was possessed and trying to throw us off the trail would say!"

---

While on a night-hunt with his friends and family, Wei Wuxian takes a near miss from a dangerous beast. Fortunately he wasn't hurt... but for some reason, they have trouble believing him when he says I'm fine.

Why I Can’t Help But Love Red, by spiralingbutmakeitanimerelated

Lan Wangji takes a bath after a night hunt. Wei Wuxian has questions about the night he branded himself.

Not Till Then Dare I Part From You, by forgottenenvy

WangXian share a tender moment as Lan Wangji braids flowers into Wei Wuxian's hair.

Snowmelt, by sugar_shoal

Lan Zhan has been badly injured on a night-hunt. Wei Wuxian panics only a little. Jiang Cheng drags them all to a nearby abandoned hut to wait out the encroaching blizzard.

Head Empty, Only Wei Ying, by nana_banana

Wei Ying is getting married? To someone not Lan Wangji? Fuck. Not if Lan Wangji has anything to say about it.

sparrow heart, by CeliaBlair24 (fourth in a series)

They pass notes through the spaces between their desks about nonsensical, inconsequential things. About the weather and birds, romance novels, and the forest behind the Cloud Recesses where they spend all their afternoons playing.

And Wei Wuxian is smart, both by the books and on his feet. If he wanted to, he could easily play Lan-xiansheng’s favorite class pet --studious and diligent about being studious; creative besides-- but he doesn’t. He listens to Lan-xiansheng and Jiang Wanyin’s complaints with half an ear and when all is said and done, he turns his back on them both and greets Nie Huaisang with his cheeky smile.

Otherwise known as "Nie Huaisang falls into like."

Retrospective on the State of the Field: Qinghe Patron X (QPX) Studies, by bladedweaponsandswishycoats (jeweledichneumon)

"Qinghe Patron X, eh?" Nie Huaisang chuckles, noticing the heading. Licking his lips, he circles the listing for the conference panel with a yellow highlighter. Despite the moniker having become common several years ago, he still gets a kick out of it. Of course he'd have to go to that one. He takes a moment to feel the faint touch of regret that he isn't on the panel himself; it is always more fun messing with people as a panelist than trying to rely on the Q&A period to say something provocative but relevant.

In which immortal cultivator Nie Huaisang likes to fuck around with scholars attempting to study what they think they know about him, and other shenanigans he gets up to (both with and without the help of his friends) in the modern age.

The year is 2021. Lan Wangji still goes where the chaos is, though these days that can mean a lot more than night hunts. Especially when Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang are dedicated to making sure being immortal never gets boring.

A Story for the Ages, by Supernova_Sage

Lan Wangji saunters over to the mystery section. He can hear people whispering, but he isn’t close enough to make sense of the conversation. The lilt in the voice makes it sound like one person is asking a question. Hmm. If he can hear whispering, they’re still being far too loud. He shakes his head and continues his browsing. He pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s nearly 6p. He really should get home. He still needs to feed the bunnies and feed himself and look over emails and—

He stops in his tracks. Stops when he sees the book that he’s been waiting to check out for months now. Every time he’s stopped by, though, it’s been checked out by someone else. And now it’s finally here. Sitting on the shelf in front of him. Once he manages to collect himself, he reaches for it. His fingers don’t touch the spine of the book, though. Instead, he finds his fingers brushing against the fingers of another.

DanTian - Into the Dark (LWJ), by ArchiveWriter (fourth in a series)

Wangji's memory holds images of Wei Ying. Wangji does penance by reliving his memories, and by making sure Wei Ying is loved. Wangji burns the millet porridge he's supposed to stir whilst Wei Ying fetches water for tea.

chasing echoes, by SWANPYRE

Lan Wangji must learn to co-exist with what he has learned his entire life to despise.

Snowfall, by nightflower

During a winter storm in Cloud Recesses, Wangji's old scars ache. Wei Ying takes care of him.

relics of love, by cl410

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Lan Zhan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bunnies were almost eaten.”

“Our son was almost traumatized for life,” Wei Ying said, choking on a laugh. “Lan Zhan, he almost witnessed a double homicide on our own balcony.” He wheezed with laughter, clutching his ribs.

“We will install higher locks,” Lan Zhan said grimly.

Rated G:

A-Yuan's guide to eat the rich (a.k.a. How A-Yuan single handedly stopped a siege from happening and saved everyone), by fanficaddictXOXO

A-Yuan is only three years old. But he knows many things. He knows how to write his name. He knows potatoes are better than radishes (Xian gege said so). But the most important thing he knows is that the handsome gege with a white forehead ribbon is rich.

Obviously You Hate Me, by Sarehz

Wei Wuxian leans across the round table. "Okay, this isn't going to work."

From across the very same table, Lan Wangji raises one puzzled eyebrow. "Mn?"

"This!" Wei Wuxian gestures between them.

Begotten, by ecorie (6 chapters)

“He’s mine.” He echoed what had once been teasingly said in jest, and added, “This is my son.”

Against all odds and without a choice, Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan back to Cloud Recesses. Xichen keeps his brother’s secrets, and shields the child when Lan Zhan could not.

Alone Stands the Quiet, by ecorie

The story of the Yin Iron starts with a celestial war and ends with Lan Sizhui.

A Good Plan, by nirejseki

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

The Late Great Custody Debate, by stiltonbasket (5 chapters)

"You owe me child support," Lan Zhan blurts, before Wei Wuxian can open his mouth to say hello to him. "Take responsibility."

Or, the one where Lan Wangji's pet rabbit has a better love life than he does, and single father Wei Wuxian develops a healthy fear of attorneys, courtesy of his next-door neighbor.

Switcheroo, by nirejseki

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

A Kiss for you, my love, by Speechless_since_1998

"Ladies and gentlemen."

Suddenly the attention of the whole hall turned to Nie Huaisang, near the orchestra with a microphone in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, "On this wonderful evening I would like to share with you all the happiness I feel. for a wonderful couple who got married today. " Wait a minute did he say marriage? He must have heard right, even Lan Zhan had stiffened. “Let's give him a wonderful round of applause. To Wei Ying and Lan Zhan newlyweds. " Hot shit. They weren't supposed to attract attention.

The attention of the room focused on them, whispers in the crowd, some scandalized, some excited. Nie Huaisang motioned for him to keep the game, but what was she supposed to do ?! "Lan Zhan, we mustn't ..." He didn't have time to finish the sentence as Lan Zhan kissed him. In front of everyone.

Soulmates, by Yacs_Weasley

Ever since he was a little boy, Wangji had longed to find his soulmate.

Stay with me, by KatAnni

Sizhui's memories come to him in pieces, and some of them in dreams. This time, he dreams of Wei Wuxian putting him in a tree. He runs to the Jingshi immediately, to find his Baba.

The truth, by syriala (first in a series)

“Do you even remember a single person of those you killed after the war?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng turns his glare on him.

“Why should I?” Jiang Cheng asks and a fearful hush falls over the crowd. “Do any of you remember even a single person you killed in your lives?” he asks them and is met with a pretty telling silence.

“You’re a monster,” someone whispers, but in the quiet it rings out loud and clear.

Jiang Cheng has heard these words a lot in the past sixteen years, and so he simply smiles at them, even though they sting like always.

He reminds himself that the people that matter know the truth, that they know him for who he truly is, and that it has to be enough.

Boys, by nirejseki

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

Loss, by FlutterFyre

Lan Wangji knows something is wrong.

Hearsay, by syriala (second in a series)

“A girl went missing a few days back,” Wei Wuxian says, voice serious, and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the accusatory look on his face. “Coincidentally you were seen in that area during the same time.”

“So?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Wei Wuxian makes a frustrated sound.

“What did you do with her?” Wei Wuxian asks him, even though he clearly already made up an answer for himself.

An ally, by syriala (third in a series)

“I just don’t want you to force yourself to face them,” Jiang Cheng finally says and Jiang Xiuying smiles at him.

“I’m not forcing myself. I am going on my own free will. It will be fine. And besides, Lan Xichen was never the reason I left.”

“But he didn’t stop you either,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and then rolls his eyes. “Fine. Accompany me, see if I care.”

“All I see is you caring,” Jiang Xiuying honestly gives back and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red.

Escalation, by syriala (fourth in a series)

“How can you lie to him like that?” Lan Wangji wants to know but it seems to be morbid curiosity more than anything else, because he goes right on. “You’re coming with me to the Cloud Recesses. There will be a trial.”

“A trial,” Jiang Cheng scoffs out, because it’s a farce and nothing more.

Lan Wangji has already decided on his sentence. And they all know it's going to be death.

Resolve, by syriala (fifth in a series)

“Regarding the accusations made against me today,” he starts and cuts his glare over to Sect Leader Yao, who has the good grace to shrink back at the venom in that glare, “I have something to say.”

“Speak,” Lan Wangji demands, but he doesn’t sound too sure all of a sudden, doesn’t seem too happy with the proceedings, and Jiang Cheng does rather enjoy the feeling of triumph it brings him.

“I am innocent. I did not kill any demonic cultivators, nor did I torture them.”

His voice rings out in the courtyard because everyone is silent for two seconds, but then chaos erupts. The voices calling him a liar are the kinder ones, and Jiang Cheng shakes his head at them.

“And I have proof,” he continues, raising his voice so that it carries over the others.

Devotion - Gather, by syriala (sixth in a series)

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, because for once he is in no immediate danger of being murdered by the other Sects and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t think that look is fair.

“You absolute asshole,” Jiang Xiuying hisses at him and Jiang Cheng knows that if he wasn’t injured Jiang Xiuying would try to slap him over the head or shake him until he sees sense.

“What? What did I do now?” Jiang Cheng wants to know because he was asleep! There is no way he could have done something to upset Jiang Xiuying like this!

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jiang Xiuying says and starts to pace Jiang Cheng’s room, without giving any thought to the fact that this is Jiang Cheng’s bedroom and he really shouldn’t be here.

Well, Jiang Cheng is not going to say that to him, because with the mood Jiang Xiuying is in right now it wouldn’t go over well for Jiang Cheng, Sect Leader or not. Not that he actually cares anyway.

It’s Jiang Xiuying after all.

Home in Lotus Pier, by syriala (seventh in a series)

Jiang Cheng's angry frown turns into a confused frown when he sits down for breakfast and finds a box next to his bowl of congee.

“What is this?” he asks into the room, because someone is bound to be around, but he doesn’t get an answer and Jiang Cheng heaves out a sigh.

He tugs the box close and opens it and he’s surprised to find that his favourite tea is in it. It’s hard to come by lately, as it is entirely seasonal and only grown in a small spot in Sect Leader Yao’s territory, and after everything that happened at the Cloud Recesses a few months back, he already mentally said goodbye to it.

He wouldn’t be getting any more supplies from Sect Leader Yao after all, so this is more than surprising.

But the gifts don't stop there.

Parallelism, not equivalence, by DreamaholicsAnonymous

Wei Wuxian reminded him of Xingchen, Song Lan thinks, not for the first time.

Bring Your Secrets, Bring Your Scars, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (fourth in a series)

Nie MingJue keeps his promises.

All Your Madness, I Will Tame, by Terri Botha (Isilwath) (fifth in a series)

Wen Qing in the Burial Mounds.

Puppy, by Speechless_since_1998

Returning home, Lan Zhan found his husband hiding behind the sofa and A-Yuan sitting on the ground playing with a puppy dog.

The puppy must have been a few months old, probably hadn't even been weaned. It was harmless, but Wei Ying didn't care. It was enough that it was a dog to be afraid.

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You finally arrived! Take that monster away!" Wei Ying pleaded, refusing to come out of hiding.

A-Yuan puffed out her cheeks, "Shiro is not a monster!"

Heaven, he had already given it a name.

Being Good, by ricochet

Lan Wangji tries to be good.

no shadow can touch, by sunflowersfield

When it is time to hand out the mics, Lan Zhan forces himself to lower his expectations. Their exchange will be fleeting, and Wei Ying will barely even look at him.

Or: Wei Ying is cast in a musical at his local community center. Lan Zhan is the theater technician.

make a mess (inside my heart), by avenqelic

Wei Wuxian looked comfortable against Lan Wangji’s white sheets, curled up in his blankets. Lan Wangji’s chest ached, mind swirling with possibilities – falling asleep looking into Wei Wuxian’s eyes, waking up in his arms, holding each other close as the moon shifted across the sky and the sun rose.

Finding a way home, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

Prompt idea for a less than one thousand words one shot! Lwj walks into a coffee shop and barista wwx cannot stop flirting with him while both of them are dying on the inside because the other is so handsome! Wwx writes his number on the cup! Up to you if lwj has an existencial crisis after finding the number or if he even finds the number. Bonus points if the oneshot ends with lwj going back to the cafe and wwx smiles at him when he sees him! — this is a.a. now with a prompt

DanTian - Planting Gentians (LWJ POV), by ArchiveWriter (1 chapter plus art)

Wei Ying's been up their old mountain early in the morning. Wangji does needlework and indulges in watching Wei Ying's hands. A slice of domestic contentment because I like them happy.

Tease, by annjellybean

Now, Wei Ying had long outgrown teasing his husband mercilessly the way he used to back in their childhood days, they had been through so much since then, he had honestly forgotten how to do so. That being said, it did not mean Wei Ying had completely forgotten his gremlin roots, and as a self-proclaimed gremlin husband, today he wanted to tease.

Pure Morning, by ShizunThirst

It’s on mornings like these that Lan Wangji can love Wei Wuxian the way he deserves to be loved.

deeper etchings, by fensandmarshes

“And remember, a-Yuan,” comes the voice, lowered but still loud as though it shuns the petty boundaries of the house, “you absolutely cannot tell diedie about this.”

Lan Wangji pauses, there in the middle of the portal array, halfway through setting down his bag, and tilts his head just slightly.

Caring Warmth, by MountainMist

Wei Ying is sick and lonely. Head empty only Lan Zhan.

And how Lan Zhan takes care of him.

just them, together., by adeptiwings

It was okay, now that it was just them.

the boy with rabbit ears, by dragontea

Lan Zhan got lost in an amusement park and found his way home in the company of the boy with rabbit ears.

heart-shaped knots, by twigofwillow

There’s been a ghost in Cloud Recesses for over thirty years, but no one has talked to her until now.

Setting Suns and Dawning Realisations, by wereworm

Wei Wuxian's plans for a romantic night out in Caiyi with Lan Zhan are ruined when he works late, the sun already setting by the time he makes his way home to the Jingshi. Instead, they enjoy a quiet night in and Wei Wuxian comes to terms with the peace that he'd fought so hard to earn and the life that's he's finally allowed to have.

[For the prompt: a sweet wangxian date night in]

Won This For You, by Preludian_Staves

He looks up as his husband comes into the room with something suspiciously large hidden behind his back.

A single soul (no more), by Lysdance1

The core transfer surgery goes as in canon BUT it leaves the spiritual link open between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and, well, what goes one way can go both ways.

"It's what keeps him (mostly) sane, a tether in this dark place where he cannot feed and cannot sleep and cannot escape; through the link he feels - trickles of love, Jiang Cheng's worry for him. It shouldn't be enough, but somehow, in this dark, dark place, it is. It reminds him, faintly, of home, and in the dark he hears the rhythm of one, luminous, far away soul."

To Need Someone, by Preludian_Staves

"A-die?"

"Hm?"

"What does mean to need someone? To want them with you?"

Approval, by Speechless_since_1998

"You look tired, "he said, sipping his tea. He shouldn't, it wasn't kind. But he couldn't resist teasing him a little.

Lan Zhan stared at him blankly, "I've been drinking."

"I saw."

"I kissed Wei Ying."

"I saw that too."

And thanks to the gods there was no uncle because he hated worldly occasions, otherwise he would have a heart attack.

"We had sex at his adoptive parents' home."

"And?"

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you surprised?"

"Oh, sorry, now I'll try again ... Really? !!"

"You're not funny."

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

An Obsidian Among Jades, by bluebeads

What happens when a sad lost mantou cheeked Lan Zhan teams up with a cheerful one to find his family in the unfamiliar streets of Yilling. A Yu Ziyuan Ultimatum AU which I submitted a while ago on angstymdzsthoughts Also a Gusu Lan Sect Wei Wuxian.

I've had enough, by pluma1007

He is ascending. They’re minds unhelpfully supplied.

Then, Wei Wuxian is gone.

The cultivators are in disarray.

“Wei Wuxian… Wei Wuxian ascended!”

“How can this be?! A monster ascended?!”

“No! My core! My powers had diminished!”

Hearing that, the cultivators checked their cores. Gasps rang out the mountains. Enraged cries are heard, cursing Wei Wuxian. There are also those who kowtowed, praying for forgiveness. There are others who praised him.

Song of Joy and Regrets, by HelloKitten

The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..."

"Do they all involve him being bait?"

"Yes" came deadpanned responses.

Hua Cheng is not amused.

Rated E:

the long way back home, by Misila

Wei Ying always knew he was the single discordant note in the Jiang household. That was why, after graduating from university, he didn’t return home. With him gone, Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have anyone to compare her son to, and Jiang Fengmian wouldn’t have to keep avoiding his own family to prevent further conflict.

…Right?

(Seven years later, married to the man of his life and with a four year-old son, Wei Ying returns to his hometown and tries to reconnect with his siblings and befriend his nephew; but, most of all, he struggles to figure out what’s wrong with his brother and how to help him, despite Jiang Cheng not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.)

Will You Stand Beside Me, by trashgavin

Wei Wuxian takes all his strength and spits blood in Wen Chao’s face. His eyes narrow and he speaks, though his voice is quiet and full of pain.

“Go to hell.”

It only makes Wen Chao laugh. He releases his hair and stands to his feet. “Bring me a whip.”

Rated M:

For the Dust and the Dirt, by Nyxelestia

His breath came out in shaky gasps, but still he could do nothing as the demonic copy of himself brought the blade down to the bare skin of Wei Wuxian’s uninjured shoulder. He whimpered when he felt a small cut, then when the blade lifted. He didn’t have time to even think of relief before it came back, right next to the first cut in a different direction, then again below in a line, multiple small lines in multiple directions like…like a character.

“Like I said,” the demon mused as Wei Wuxian realized what it was doing. “I’ll write it down for you.”

A brutal assault on a Cloud Recesses student leaves the Cultivation world reeling. Wei Wuxian struggles to recover, while everyone else tries to make sense of an ominous message. But since when do demons care about sect politics, anyway?

Between Wen Ruohan's rising aggression, simmering tensions across the guest disciples, and the mysterious fierce corpses still popping up all over the place, Wei Wuxian would rather ignore the confusing, horrifying visions the demon left him with.

If only the demon's taunting predictions didn't keep coming true at every turn.

I Know How Those in Exile Feed on Dreams of Hope, by rabbit_habits & saltedpin

“What does it mean, that Wen Ruohan has all the Yin Iron?” Jiang Cheng asked, dragging himself up into a sitting position – her medicines must have worked quickly, because his ribs gave only a twinge when he moved.

Wen Qing settled down beside him, head bowed as she packed away her supplies, her shoulder brushing his arm when she moved. “It means that no one in the cultivation world can oppose him,” she whispered.

—

Canon divergence AU in which Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are captured by the Wens after escaping from the Xuanwu's cave, before they can return to rescue Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Misunderstood, by Silver_Flame_2724

There is something called a memory ball that shows the memories of a chosen person.

In order to further incriminate the already dead Yiling Patriarch, the cultivation world decides to use this memory ball at the next Discussion Conference to show how evil the demonic cultivator can truly be.

What appears, though, truly shocks them all.

laughing shadow, by ich_bin_ein_stern

During the commotion involving Wei Wuxian, A-Ling refused little sleep. His screams carried across Koi Tower, putting wailing ghosts too shame. He was inconsolable by everyone. It was only when Jin Zixuan unintentionally passed the room holding Wei Wuxian while trying to calm down his son did A-Ling miraculously settle down. Since then, he has slept peacefully every night. Yanli expressed, in the quiet and security of their bedroom, that perhaps Wei Wuxian's spirit soothed A-Ling and continues to do so.

At the least expected times, Jin Zixuan swears he can hear the distant sound of a flute.

But when he stops to actually listen for it, he hears nothing.

Come From My Inkstone, by magicgenetek

“So your plan,” Nie Mingjue said dubiously, “is to move into the Burial Mounds to write and illustrate erotica about you and Lan Wangji seducing the Yiling Patriarch to earn his trust and sell the public on the idea that he's not a threat, then convince him to give up the Yin Tiger Seal?"

“The way I said it sounded better,” Nie Huaisang said. “And you forgot the part about me seducing the Ghost General, that is crucial.”

“I hate this, and as your brother, I am begging you not to actually stick it in a fierce corpse. How much money do you need?”

Rated T:

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

A place of Gold, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

A few days after Wei Wuxian has parted from Lan Wangji on a forest path, he gets surrounded by Jin officials in an Inn, who formally ask him to return to Jinlintai to fill in the position of Sect Leader, as is his right and duty.

Wei Wuxian thinks it is an artful prank. Until it is not.

Blossoming flowers in a full moon - 花好月圆, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

What if Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to get out of Lan Wangji’s grip at the cliff in Nevernight? What if Lan Wangji refused to let go?

All will be well when the day is done, by abCEE

The one where Yu Ziyuan time traveled but she thought that it was her visions of her alternate life.

She learned that there is a brat named Wei Ying who brought destruction to her and her family's life.

And so in her present, she vowed that she will never allow that to happen.

In which Yu Ziyuan found the four-year-old Wei Ying, newly pushed out of the inn where his parents left him, and decided that no, this child must never be associated with her, her family, and their sect at all.

And so Yu Ziyuan thought that she could bring him somewhere where someone may or may not find him but definitely far from where her husband could find him. If he's lucky, he'll survive that winter, if he's not, then death awaits the fevered child.

This is the extent of mercy that Yu Ziyuan could give a child.

With this, she'll raise her children without having to deal with a brat that brings trouble where he goes according to her visions of her alternate life.

Like the tag stated, this is definitely not Yu Ziyuan centric.

Rated G:

How Jin Zixuan Helps Everyone, by BryxcrSt

The Yunmeng Heroes, Twin Jades, Nie Huaisang, The Peacock, Cinnamon Roll Ghost General and Lan Qiren suddenly transport back to the past before the Conference in Qishan, with their very memory of how all their clans battled Wen Rouhan's and now they're all ready to prevent it from happening now that they're back to the past. Especially Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Surprisingly, Jin Zixuan wants to help them instead of standing out of the front line like how he used to but what can he do?

To Repeat, Repay, and Repair, by adrian_kres

Wei Wuxian has died again and his family grieves. Lan Sizhui, now married and with children of his own, grieves the loss of both fathers, as Lan Wangji has entered seclusion. But somehow, he unknowingly sends himself back to the time he spent in the Burial Mounds at three years old. Will his family take his confused, nonsensical warnings seriously? Are they doomed to repeat the same fate?

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wangxian #untamed fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

bbdaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita x Reader

Series Masterlist•next>

Chapter One: Late

You and Semi were assigned to sit next to each other in your English class during your first year which is how you initially met. About a quarter through the year Semi noticed you had the letter “X” in black marker on the back of your hand which led him to ask if you went to a show the night before. You said yes and told him what band you saw which made him light up and show you his hand as proof that he was there too.

“Dude, let me know when you go to a show! We could go together,” Semi told you with a grin on his face.

“Will do, bro,” you smiled back at him.

Since then, you’ve been concert buddies and best friends. You weren’t afraid to run up to tackle the other from a distance. Semi’s lent you multiple sweatshirts that other students immediately have identified as his considering the size difference. You’ve gone into his personal bubble many times, mostly to bother him by squishing his face. Other’s believe there’s more going on between you two but you’re both quick to shut down those comments, even if in reality you did harbor feelings for him.

You were both currently in his dorm fiddling with tunes on your guitars. “Y/n, you’re going too fast. Slow down,” Semi laughed while holding your wrists in place on the guitar.

“Dammit! I got nervous,” you responded setting the acoustic guitar down next to your body before using your hands to rub your face.

“It’s just me here. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got to get over this fear.”

Semi picked up his electric guitar and put the strap over himself so he could play properly. “I mean, I get it. It’s not easy playing in front of people, let alone perform. Did you see where I put my pick?”

“How do you do it? You honestly make it look easy. Also, dude, you have like three still stuck on your face.”

“Oh shit,” he responded before feeling his forehead remembering the guitar pick war you guys had. He grabbed one and wiped it on his shirt to take off your saliva for a better grip. “Uhh, I don’t know actually. I definitely do get anxious sometimes but I think I get so caught in the moment that in the end I don’t care who is watching. I’m just having fun, ya know?”

“I’m so focused on what others think, I don’t think I could ever perform how you do.”

“Well, you better get over it. You gotta hold up your end of the deal since you wanted me to do the talent show so bad.”

After Shiratorizawa lost to Karasuno, Semi had more time to focus on his band, which had formed the summer of your second year. They try to put on a show every other week at a local café and managed to gain a decent amount of attention but it definitely wasn’t enough for them to break out. You wanted to push them in anyway you could which led you to annoying Semi to sign up for the talent show.

“Eita, you should sign up for the talent show!”

“Nah. Too many preps. They’re not gonna be interested,” Semi responded in between bites of his lunch.

“Don’t think like that. Your guy’s music is good okay? I’m not just saying that because I’m your best friend I’m saying it because I legitimately mean it. Eagle Thorns is my favorite band. I know you guys will make it big and this can help!”

“They’ve got a good point, Eita,” their bassist, Ranmaru, said.

“I think it’ll be fun,” the drummer, Subaru, added on.

“We’ll do it,” Jiro, the lead guitarist, responded as he smiled up at you.

“Thank you, boys. I’ll sign you guys up-“

“Nope. Nope, no, no, no,” Semi spoke up, leaning over to take the pen from your hand.

“What do you mean no? Everyone else said yes.”

“I didn’t agree. I’ll agree to it if you do it too. I’ll even write your name on the list for you,” Semi stated with a smirk.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Guess we’re not participating then. Sorry boys-“

“I’ll do it. I want you guys to perform.”

“I don’t get why you want me to participate. I’m not the one with a band,” you told him.

“I know, but you want a band of your own. This could help you too. And even if you end up not finding members, it’ll help you get over your stage fright.”

“You have a weird way of showing you care,” you laughed while pushing his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” Semi responded while pretending to square up.

“Yeah,” you immediately bucked back standing on your toes to help you get closer to his face.

“Ranmaru, the love birds are at it again!” Subaru spoke when he opened the door to Semi’s room.

“Oi! Eita, stop flirting! It’s time for band practice,” Ranmaru scolded.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We’re just friends,” Semi retorted turning his back to you.

You made eye contact with Jiro and he gave you a sorry look. Jiro was the only one that knew of your feelings and you planned to keep it that way. He was a year younger and didn’t speak to many other third years so you felt you could trust him.

“Yeah guys, c’mon. How many times do we have to tell you we’re just friends? It’s getting tiring at this point,” you added on with a fake happy smile on your face.

“Whatever. You get a song ready, y/n?”

“Still working on it. I’ll leave you guys alone and head back to my dorm. Have fun!” And with that you excused yourself and headed off.

When you got back to your dorm, you immediately sent a text to Tendou asking him to come over so you could vent to him. While waiting you came up with a plan. You decided you were going to play a song that expressed your feelings and then once you came off stage you were going to walk up to Semi and confess, hoping that the high from being on stage walks off with you.

“He said that?” Tendou asked as he sat on your bed with a large plush in his lap, watching you pace around your dorm.

“Yes! I don’t know what to do! Graduation is just around the corner and I wanna tell him before we go out separate ways after high school. Tendou, I’m so scared what if we don’t talk to each other again after graduation?”

“No, that’s not happening. You guys are best friends. I doubt he’d stop talking to you after we graduate.”

“Ok, but what if I confess and he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Trust me he feels the same.”

“How do you know that? Does he ever talk about me?”

“I can just tell by how he looks at you! And I’ll be honest he doesn’t bring you up but when someone else does he immediately tells them to shut up. Incase you didn’t know, I understand guy code. That means ‘don’t talk about my girl’.”

“Okay, okay. That puts me somewhat at ease.”

“Good. Now all you have to do is play that song without fucking up.”

“Ugh, Tendou! That just made me sick to my stomach!” You exclaimed before jumping on the bed and tackling him.

“It’s the truth! Just picture the audience in their underwear!” Tendou retaliated as he grabbed a pillow to hit you with.

“It’s not that easy!” You said while lightly hitting his chest.

“Why do you care so much as to what people think?”

“I don’t care about what others think I just care about what he thinks!”

“Shit, you have it BAD, bad,” Tendou laughed while putting the pillow behind his head for support. “Y/n, he’d be an idiot to reject you. And I’d remind him daily if he did. You are such a catch, it’d be a shame if he let you go to waste,” he told you earnestly.

“I-, thank you, Tendou. It means a lot-“

“Oh shit, I didn’t know you guys were in the middle of something,” Semi voiced when he let himself into your dorm, a reoccurring scene he’s noticed.

“Eita!” You greeted him, immediately getting off of Tendou to go hug the setter.

“Semi-Semi, I thought your practice was going to last longer,” Tendou said, taking note of the small glare Semi gave him.

“Stop calling me that and we finished early,” the ash blonde responded before turning to you. “What about you? Did you manage to pick a song?”

“I did!” you told him with a smile.

After two weeks of practicing it was finally the night of the talent show. You had your guitar in a soft case, that Semi had given you, across your back. Were you nervous? Yes. Of the crowd? Not exactly. What you told Semi and Tendou wasn’t a lie. You didn’t care about what people thought of you, unless they were people you cared about. You cared about how your friends would react. You cared about what Semi’s band members thought. You even cared about what the members of the volleyball team would think, even if you’ve only met them a few times. But most importantly, you cared about what Semi’s opinion of your performance was.

You and Semi have sang along to numerous songs in different settings, even taking turns to do karaoke in the car. All those times you didn’t care about what he thought because you were so comfortable being around him, but now that it matters, that’s when your self doubt kicked in.

“Ready?” Semi asked you from behind, making you jump.

You took a deep breath after the scare before smiling up at him, “Nope, but I’m up soon.”

“Indeed you are. You’ll do great. I know you will.” Semi’s honesty was something you always admired about him. In your three years of friendship, he’s never lied to you. He’s always evaluated the situation and told you his thoughts without a single waver in his voice. Him believing in you, gave you all the confidence in the world.

You guys were standing side to side watching the other acts perform their talents from side stage. As your turn neared closer, he raised an arm over your shoulder, rubbing it to help ease your nerves causing you to lean your head on him.

“Hey, I gotta tell you something later,” you spoke, avoiding looking at him.

“Tell me now,” he responded gently.

“Nah. After we perform.”

“Alright,” he laughed. “Ima go find the guys, we’re up after you. Good luck, don’t fuck up or else you won’t hear the end of it from me.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Okay jackass. Good luck to you too. Tell the boys I wish them luck too.”

As soon as Semi left your side, the announcer spoke up to announce it was now your turn to perform. You took a deep breath before shaking each of your limbs to make sure they were working. Once you concluded that they were, you made your way to the center of the stage.

“Good evening, L/N, the stage is all yours,” the announcer spoke before placing the microphone on a stand and adjusting it to your height while you grabbed the chair left on stage for you to use. You gave him a silent nod before he left the stage.

“Thank you,” you spoke while grabbing the mic to tilt it a little more towards you. “I’m going to be singing a song by a band called ONE OK ROCK. This song is called ‘Wherever You Are’. Please enjoy.”

Wherever you are, I'll always make you smile

Wherever you are, I'm always by your side

Whatever you say, kimi wo omou kimochi

I promise you "forever" right now

You were almost done with the song and decided to look up and scan the crowd. You were quick to notice Tendou and Ushijima sitting in the crowd, Tendou looking more impressed than the latter. When your eyes connected with the judges you remembered situation you were in and closed your eyes to put all your effort into the last three lines. It went quiet in the auditorium after you finished which only made your eyes stay shut until loud clapping and hollering commenced, one voice sticking out from all the rest.

“Wooooo! Go y/n!” You could hear Tendou yell. You looked up to make eye contact with him again. He was grinning from ear to ear while talking to the people beside him, most likely telling them he knew you.

You grabbed the microphone again and gave a small chuckle before speaking, “thank you, everyone.”

The announcer came back into the stage and gave you a hand to help you get up from the chair. While you put the guitar away he put the chair away and spoke into the microphone as you waved the crowd goodbye. “Beautiful wasn’t it? So passionate. Thank you so much for blessing all of our ears with your voice. Now, up next we have another musical performance. This next one is a group and they call themselves Eagle Thorns! Please welcome Eita, Ranmaru, Subaru, and Jiro to the stage!”

Subaru walked up first with his drum sticks in his hand and made his way to his kit. Once he got to his seat, he raised one arm up waved to greet the crowd. Jiro and Ranmaru walked up together with their instruments and waved to the crowd as they went to their spots. Semi followed them from a couple feet behind with his guitar and made his way to center stage. “Hope you guys still have some energy after all the performances you’ve seen tonight. We are Eagle Thorns and if there’s any parents in the room, I hope you brought some ear plugs,” Semi joked.

You were standing off to the side of the stage watching them. It was funny to you because they were really acting how they did for any other gig. You’ve been to almost all of their shows and we’re still amazed every time they took the stage.

“This song is an original. It’s called ‘Late’.”

I can't stop thinking it, thinking it

That it's a little too late, a little too late, a little too late, a little too late

“Here we go!” Semi yelled into the mic. What followed was Ranmaru sing the first part of the hard vocals while Jiro did the second part which made you realize why Semi made his joke directed towards the parents earlier. In true Semi fashion, he found a way to include some spice into the band’s performance.

What kept bothering you was his use of the word ‘mistake’. All it did was make you question who he was talking about. You went down the list of people you thought it could’ve been but as far as you knew, Semi didn’t talk to a lot of people regularly. He preferred to keep his social circle small.

“Thank you so much for giving us a chance to play tonight. Before we leave the stage I’d like to ask someone very special to come up to the stage. They already know who they are,” Semi spoke into the mic.

A couple of performers that had gone up before were whispering amongst themselves.

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

“Super bold move of him if he is.”

“Oh my god! He’s gonna ask someone to be his date for the dance next week!”

After that last comment you could feel a bunch of gazes landing on your form. The small group of students were now encouraging you to go up, but all you could do was grip into the strap that was across your body for comfort.

“Y/n! He’s talking about you!”

“Y/n go up there! What are you waiting for?”

“It’s not me guys,” you spoke. You knew you weren’t that special someone the moment Semi turned to the direction that was the opposite of where you were. “After all, we’re just friends.”

The group around you grew very confused from your response until they looked forward and saw someone else walk on stage towards the lead singer.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Would you go on a date with me and accompany me next week to the dance?” Semi asked the girl, who you knew nothing about. He was asking out someone you had no idea existed.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused yourself from the people surrounding you and bolted to the closest restroom. When you made it outside the door, you slid off the guitar and placed it on the ground so you could run into a stall. You immediately took out your phone and started texting Tendou asking him to come to your dorm so you could have a shoulder to cry on since the one you normally rely on isn’t an option at the moment. Tendou responded immediately, encouraging you to at least wait until the event is over for the awards ceremony. You were about to text him back but froze when you heard foot steps.

“I think she’s in here,” a soft voice spoke.

“It has to be this one, who else’s guitar would this be?” another voice spoke.

“Hmm,” a third girl spoke. “Hi, we’re looking for L/n Y/n! We-“

“Shhhh! You don’t have to be so loud, Izumi,” the second voice spoke.

“I don’t think it was a good idea to come looking for them now.”

“You’re probably right, but we wouldn’t have another opportunity to talk to them.”

What could they want with you? What could some strangers possibly want to talk to you about? You quietly leaned forward on the plastic door to look through the crack to judge the situation. There were three girls total, and one of them looked mean. As much as you didn’t like judging people based on their looks, the other two girls appeared to be nicer which made you take a chance.

“You’re looking for me?” You asked, stepping out of the stall while wiping your eyes.

The girl with the soft voice immediately took notice of your state and turned to grab a paper towel and wet it before handing it to you. “Here you go,” she said with a small smile.

“Uh, thank you,” you responded awkwardly.

“Sorry we’re meeting like this but we wanted to ask you a question. Would you be interested in being in our band? We’d love to have you,” the girl you were on edge about asked.

“You want me in your band? I only know how to play acoustic guitar, I’m an amateur at best,” you responded honestly while dabbing your face with the wet paper towel.

“Okay but you sing amazingly! We need a lead singer and your voice matches our vibe! At least think about it. Please. Let’s change information,” the louder one spoke as she handed you her phone.

You gave a genuine smile to the girls before accepting the device and started entering your information as you took yours out so she could do the same.

“Award ceremony is starting! All performers please make your way to the stage!” Someone yelled from the hallways.

You were about to speak but the leader of the girls spoke up for you. “Guess that means you, girly. Good luck!” She handed you your guitar back and ushered you out of the bathroom so you’d be able to make it where you needed to be on time.

When you made it back to the stage, Semi quickly made his way towards you, leaving his band behind, with a smile on his face. “Hey! Where’d you go?” He asked, completely unaware that you ran off to go cry.

“Not important,” you told him dryly.

Giving you a confused look he decided to continue the conversation. “Alright... well what was it you were gonna tell me?”

Now you were having an internal battle within yourself. Do you actually confess to him after he technically just confessed to someone else? Do you tell him something else? Or, do you just not tell him anything?

Knowing the last option would just cause him to bug you until you told him something you decided to go with the second option.

“I was gonna say that there’s a big name in the crowd tonight. Someone from a record label is here to scout out a new artist but I don’t know who.”

“Oh shit. No way! Hope they liked us.”

“Yeah.”

At this point you didn’t know what to do. You were upset that he’s never spoken about this person to you before. You thought you were closer than this. Don’t best friends tell each other about their crushes? Don’t best friends tell each other about things like this? Did you see Semi more as a best friend than he did for you? Were you putting in more effort into the relationship than he was this entire time? Were you so stuck in your fantasy that every small task he did for you mean nothing to him? Was he just being nice to you?

“Semi, who is she?” you asked trying not to cry for the second time in the past hour.

“Semi?” He asked taking notice of how you used his last name instead of his first name. “She’s someone I’ve been seeing on the low for about a month now.”

A month. He’s kept her away from you for a month.

“Why haven’t you ever introduced me to her?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Why would you think that?” You asked with in a louder tone.

He looked at you even more confused as to why you were acting the way you were. “Sorry, I didn’t know I needed my friend’s approval to date someone?” Semi responded with the same tone you did, but with a little more bite.

His answer left you feeling as if you’ve been stabbed in the front. Out of all the ways he could’ve said, he chose to respond like that? Not wanting to draw attention you guys you decided to end the conversation before it got out of hand. “Don’t talk to me Semi,” you told him before turning to walk away from him.

He tried to reach out to grab your arm and ask you what the hell your problem was but the announcer spoke up.

“Alright, now that everyone is here and the judges have counted their votes, it’s time to announce the winners! In third place we have the dance duo! Congrats you guys!”

You were walking behind the line of performers so that the crowd would hopefully not see you walk off the stage as the announcer spoke.

“And in second place we have Eagle Thorns!” You froze at the loud cheers that erupted and the arm that you recognized belonged to Jiro as the hugged you from excitement right when you walked by.

“And in first place, drum roll please... we have L/n Y/n! Congratulations!” Now you can’t help yourself. Being too overwhelmed with emotions is never a good thing because now here you are, letting tears fall in front of a whole room of people. Jiro immediately picked you up and spun you around before putting you down and encouraging you to walk to center stage to accept the fake trophy that you weren’t expecting. You wiped your tears for a second time that night and gave a slight wave to the crowd before speaking into the microphone that the announcer was holding for you.

“Judges, thank you so much. I honestly didn’t think I’d win this but from the bottom of my heart thank you so, so, much!”

While you were giving your thank you speech, all Semi could do is question why you were so upset. As far as he knew, you had a thing for Tendou and Tendou had a thing for you, so why were you so invested in his relationship?

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #semi eita #haikyu x reader #haikyu angst

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 years ago

Text

august

Summary: August slips away and their summer fling is going to have to end.

Notes: it’s my birthday!! To celebrate here is the august story of my folklore series

AO3

For most people, all roads lead to Rome but for one Kurt Hummel, all roads lead to the mall.

First stop: coffee.

Once Kurt had secured his iced mocha, he began his window shopping. It was just so nice to walk around the air-conditioned mall.

There were plenty of middle and high schoolers wandering around with their friends. Enjoying the freedom of summertime. Kurt was pretty happy to be able to spend his summer days at the mall; almost like a relaxing vacation if it weren’t for the fear of running into old bullies and homophobes.

His dad just wanted Kurt to work a few days a week at the garage when the staff was short but with Finn there full-time, Kurt was barely needed. So, he spent his days off running errands and wandering around the Lima Mall.

There was no way for him to get lost at the mall. One, he had become very familiar with the mall having spent many weekends with his girls from glee club here. And two, it wasn’t a very large place.

Eventually, Kurt decided to splurge by getting a cinnamon pretzel and found a bench to rest. It wasn’t long until a curly-haired boy took a seat at the other end.

Kurt wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say hello or not. They were likely the same age. Close in age and cute. While he was debating whether or not to engage with this boy, he made the first move.

“I’m Blaine.”

He’s now facing Kurt.

“Kurt.”

They smile at each other. Kurt can feel his face getting warm.

“You here alone?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah, you?”

Blaine nods. “Wanna walk together?”

Kurt holds up his half-eaten pretzel.

“Oh,” Blaine says, “that’s okay. I can just…”

Blaine moves to stand up and leave.

“No!”

It comes out louder than intended but it stops Blaine.

“I can walk and eat.”

****

They took road trips together and talked about everything except school. It was so refreshing to have something in common with another human besides McKinley High.

Blaine never said he was from Lima; Kurt suspected he wasn’t since he hadn’t seen him at school. Though, it was possible Blaine went to some private school outside of Lima. At one point, Kurt thought he might have to transfer if the bullying got too intense.

Honestly, it was just nice to have someone who understood him like Blaine did. They had so much in common from singing and acting to taste in Broadway musicals to the same favorite hate-watching shows. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was coffee.

Blaine had a strong opinion about drinking black drip coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Whereas, Kurt always got a nonfat mocha. However, they did agree hot chocolate was the superior wintertime drink to eggnog.

Blaine was willing to compromise in ways Rachel Berry never would.

So, it was no surprise to Kurt when he realized his feelings for Blaine.

Once again, Kurt Hummel was falling for a boy who wouldn’t like him back. This time it would hurt more because Blaine could like him, since he was also gay, but didn’t. Because who could love a boy like Kurt.

****

One day they were sharing a pretzel in Blaine’s car parked behind the mall as they typically did.

“Here,” he says, handing over the last piece.

Mid-chew, Blaine almost caused Kurt to choke.

“Can I kiss you?”

Kurt swallowed.

He must’ve been blushing because his face felt hot. Blaine clearly read the look on Kurt’s face as his answer and leaned forward over the center console.

The first thing Kurt noticed was that Blaine’s lips were dusted with cinnamon sugar. He swept his tongue over Blaine’s bottom lip gathering the flakes before painting Blaine’s tongue with cinnamon.

It was an intense first kiss to say the least. Kurt had always pictured a short peck as his very first but this was better. This kiss was just a few steps away from making out.

As the weeks of summer trickled by, Blaine and Kurt spent their days texting and meeting up to make out behind the mall. They’d climb into the backseat of one of their cars and for the next hour touch any skin available. If summer was good for one thing it was exposed skin.

Blaine often wore tank tops so Kurt became very familiar with the muscle tone of his arms.

Oftentimes, Blaine was the one reaching out first. Kurt found himself waiting by the phone for a text; careful to not have permanent plans in case Blaine called. He’d canceled anything to spend time with Blaine. As far as Kurt knew they only had this summer and now it was August. How many more days would he get with Blaine?

****

One late night in August, they went stargazing. Blaine had spread blankets and pillows on the hillside and managed to secure a cheap bottle of wine courtesy of his older brother. As it turns out, Blaine didn’t know much about constellations; luckily, Kurt did.

He spent loads of nights with his mom in the backyard. She told him so many myths of the sky.

Kurt shared some with Blaine, who had interlaced their fingers. Eventually their bodies were fully pressed together. Blaine was hovering over Kurt, placing kisses along his neck.

Kurt bent his head back to give Blaine more room to cover with his lips.

Then, shirts were riding up and removed. Blaine was playing with Kurt’s zipper.

“Can I?” He asked.

Kurt nodded.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

“I’ve never done this before,” Blaine whispers.

“Me neither.”

For two boys who have never had sex and weren’t necessarily prepared to that night, it was always going to be a little sloppy. Misplaced hands, teeth clinking against each other, and nervously checking if something was okay.

When it was over, Kurt pulled a blanket to cover them. Blaine was resting his head in between Kurt’s head and shoulder breathing him in.

“I could fall asleep so easily,” Blaine tells him.

Kurt agreed with him but he was seriously contemplating a different kind of falling.

****

Summer had to come to an end. Before Kurt realized it, he was laying out an outfit for the first day of school. He and Blaine never did have a conversation about what was going to happen to them after summer vacation. In fact, Kurt hadn’t heard from Blaine in a few days.

He texted but went to bed without a reply.

Meanwhile, Blaine was wide awake in his own bed. He stared at the unopened text from Kurt on his phone. He could text back but he didn’t know what to say.

Sorry, I’m moving schools tomorrow.

Sorry, I lied to you all summer.

Sorry, I’m not the person you think I am.

Every single message his brain could conjure up began with an apology.

In the end, Blaine ran out of time to text him back. From a restless sleep to breakfast to rushing to get to his new school on time, he was almost able to believe Kurt hadn’t texted him at all.

As Blaine introduced himself for the first time, his eyes caught sight of people passing the door; stranglers being tardy to their first class of the day. Every person in his peripheral vision made his insides jump. They all looked like Kurt.

Except, Kurt wasn’t here. Kurt could never be here. Whatever he and Blaine had over the summer was just that—a summer thing

Blaine never thought of himself as the type for flings but Kurt was different. He’d take any time he could have with him. If three months was all he had then that was okay. He knew this last summer would stick with him for a long time.

When he closed his eyes, he was staring at Kurt’s blue ones. He could feel Kurt’s fingers dancing along his naked back with the stars watching them.

Luckily, the classes seemed to be taking it easy on the students. Going over the class schedules, future projects, and what percentage of their grade was exams and quizzes. Of course, Blaine played plenty of those ice breakers and get-to-know-you exercises.

He loved those.

By the time lunch rolled around, Blaine even had someone to sit with in the cafeteria. A nice girl named Tina sat near him in history and offered him a spot at her normal table. Blaine had mentioned wanting to join the glee club and she bounced up to him after class.

“New Directions always needs members. Sit with us at lunch and we can give you pointers for your audition.”

He met Mike, Tina’s boyfriend, Quinn, head cheerleader, and Mercedes, second lead female soloist of glee. Rachel Berry soon joined the table and sized Blaine up. She had lots of questions about his range, experience, and if he was a spy. Her boyfriend, Finn, seemed suspicious of Blaine as well. Blaine was familiar with Finn’s concerns.

The pointed glares and scowl were markers of a jealous boyfriend. Finn wasn’t worried about Blaine becoming first male lead, he didn’t want Blaine to pursue a relationship with Rachel.

This was not the first time Blaine was being mistaken for your token straight guy.

The table just kept growing. People pushing tables together and pulling empty seats. A Mohawk boy called Puck was asking Blaine about sports he liked (mainly college football) when two more cheerleaders joined them.

Brittany, the blonde, was intrigued by a new student. She had some record to keep up and asked if he wanted to sneak off somewhere to help her with it. He declined. The other, Santana, was too busy waving to someone in the distance to really notice Blaine at all.

“Porcelain, finally,” Santana says, patting the seat beside her. “Meet New Kid.”

“It’s Blaine actually,” Rachel corrected.

The boy, Porcelain, sat down and looked over at Blaine. Their eyes met and instantly widened.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

“Hi, Kurt.” Blaine watched the boy of his dreams swallow hard. “Blaine, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lunch continued and no one seemed the wiser. Why would the New Directions assume the New Kid in town had already met their beloved Kurt Hummel? No one's first instinct would be that these two boys shyly watching each other would be “they spent the summer hooking up behind the mall.” Well, technically making out at the mall and hooking up in the park, just that one night.

Blaine tried to participate in conversation so as to not raise suspicion that he was staring at Kurt’s lips, which he was completely guilty of.

Once the glee kids started talking about a disaster of a party Rachel once threw, Blaine is able to tune them out in favor of his summer memories.

Sitting in the dark movie theater and bumping hands with Kurt as they reached for popcorn at the same time. Reaching over, buttered fingers and all, to grab for Kurt’s hand. Being able to catch a glimpse of Kurt’s smile as the movie flashed in front of them.

Lost in his daydream, Blaine didn’t hear the bell ring until Kurt tapped his hand, which was stretched out almost in the middle of the table.

“Hey, time to get to class,” Kurt tells him, “walk with me?”

“Okay.” Blaine gathered his books and trash.

“Where to?” Kurt asks.

“Crafts actually.”

“Oh, that’s just down the hall here.” Kurt guides them through the crowds. “Thanks for not spilling everything to them today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our summer together.” Kurt’s blushing. “It was special.”

“To me too,” Blaine assures. “I wouldn’t have said anything to them. I don’t really know those guys yet. I’m new remember?”

Kurt nods. “Not new to me though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Blaine chuckles.

They reach Blaine’s art classroom.

“I’ll see you in glee club,” Kurt says.

“Okay.”

Blaine only lets Kurt take a few steps before he’s touching his hand. “Wait.”

Kurt is staring at their joined hands and examining the hallway before meeting Blaine’s eyes. No one else is paying them any attention.

There are so many words Blaine wants to say to Kurt.

Be with me. Please. Be mine.

Don’t leave. Don’t slip away.

Stay, stay, stay.

Instead, he steps closer to Kurt and cups his face with his other hand. Kurt leans into the touch. Blaine gives the hallway one last look but it’s almost empty. The late bell will ring soon so he can’t waste any more time.

Blaine leans forward and pecks Kurt.

“Please,” he murmurs, against his lips.

Not even sure what he’s asking Kurt for exactly. Kurt seems to know what he means without needing more information or clearer words than a simple ‘please.’

Kurt drops Blaine’s hand and pulls their bodies close together and opens Blaine’s mouth with his tongue.

There’s a bell ringing, which Blaine thinks must be his own form of fireworks.

“If you two are quite done, there’s a class happening,” Blaine’s crafts teacher tells them.

They pull apart instantly, red in the face from being scolded, Kurt hurries off to his own class. Blaine does another round of introductions and can’t remember anyone’s name but Kurt Hummel.

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine #my fics #folklore seires

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blackjack-15 · 4 years ago

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The Weight of Living — Thoughts on: The Deadly Device (DED)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN, WAC, TOT, SAW, CAP, ASH, TMB

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. For this meta, like TMB, there will be an extra section entitled “The Theme” between The Mystery and The Suspects.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with my list of previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: DED, TMB; brief mentions of FIN, SSH, and ICE; brief mention of Iron Man (2008).

The Intro:

First off, this meta was supposed to be uploaded well over a week ago, and I apologize; life and health kind of got in the way, but it should be more constant for these last 3 metas.

I hope.

Like I mentioned with the last meta, this will be kind of a companion/two-piece meta with TMB. Where TMB focused on the effects of the dead on the living, DED instead focuses on the living’s effects on the dead — the dead in this case being Niko Jovic, of course. Let’s dive into that, shall we?

Just like how everything in TMB was dead, everything (other than Niko, rest in peace) in the lab is alive. The lab is full of people, of research — “living knowledge” in other words — of live wires and electricity, and is constantly growing and changing, just like a living organism does. With all this life present, the game is mostly concerned with how the living affect Niko.

What’s left of Niko after his death is his legacy — his work, his personality, his relationships (or lack thereof) with others, and it’s fascinating to see how our characters deal with and affect that. Grey is dedicating to curating Niko’s legacy (at Niko’s request, it should be noted), Ryan lives in awe of it, and Mason and Ellie are more pragmatic, wanting to use his legacy and work to improve their own lives. Victor, on the other hand, wants Niko’s legacy all to himself — to effectively erase it, in other words, which is another marker of him being our out-and-out villain.

Niko was divisive in life, and is even more so in death — no one can quite say exactly who he was. A jerk, a total scientist, someone who needed caring for, naïve, a useful tool — all of these were how people thought of him, and all of these were a part of who he was. In the end, it’s the efforts of the living that kill Niko — Ryan’s engineering, Ellie and Mason’s lack of concern, Grey’s reticence to get involved, and Victor’s machinations – along with his own secrecy and feeling of being apart from the world — or dead to it, more appropriately.

Stepping back from our characters and the weight of the living for a bit, let’s talk about the other thing that really makes DED stand out not only as a game but specifically as a Nancy Drew game — that is, its design in being a game that subverts the Nancy Drew formula at every turn.

There are a few obvious ones, like a phone character turning to a real-life suspect (rather than the other way around, like in TMB and ICE, or in any other game, where phone characters are Above Suspicion), the person hiring Nancy actually being the baddie, and Nancy having her safe places removed throughout the game, rather than crossing off locations where Bad Things can happen, but the more interesting ones are a little more subtle.

Our suspects provide a few more subversions — for example, our ‘meanest’ characters (Mason and Gray) are neither our explicit Good Guys or our definite Bad Guys, as often tends to be the case in Nancy Drew games. We also have suspects who hate each other openly revealed to be working together towards a common goal, which is a nice twist on the Warring Suspects trope that we see in quite a few games (ICE, FIN, SSH, etc.).

Finally, the structure of the mystery gives us our last two subversions. Instead of our normal Nancy Drew status quo where the characters are simple but their motivations end up being surprising/hidden/secret, we here have a straightforward motive — remove Niko to get his stuff — and our characters are the part that’s not straightforward, with each of them having warring traits within themselves that contribute to the fog surrounding the mystery.

Our villain also fails in this game through the cover-up, not through the crime. Normally, there’s a mistake that the culprit makes during the committing of a crime that Nancy finds evidence of later — a dropped business card, etc. — but in this case, it’s really only the cover up that implicates Victor at all, and he would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for, well, himself.

These subversions wouldn’t have been possible 10 or 15 games ago, and it’s a mark of how far the games have come that a game can be dedicated to subverting the usual formula and do it with such panache — and make a great game out of it, besides.

The Title:

As a title, The Deadly Device is pretty solid, if lacking a bit of flash. It gives us our method of murder and the academic ‘scope’ (i.e., science/engineering) that we’re playing in for this game, and tells us our crime — can’t be a deadly device without someone ending up, you know, dead — but doesn’t do a lot outside of that and hinting that the dead as a thematic element will have some role to play.

The reason the title is solid, however, rather than lacking, is that there’s not much else to call it that’s quite as well-fit to the game. It pulls (in a matter of speaking) from two Nancy Drew stories, The Crime Lab Case — which, as a title, yawn — and In and Out of Love, a story from the Nancy-at-college era that tried to be Hotter and Sexier than the previous books, but just ended up being a bit ridiculous. Neither one of those titles would have been any better — they would have been significantly worse, honestly, so The Deadly Device will stand as a good, solid effort for a great game.

The Mystery:

Disaster has struck at Technology of Tomorrow Today, a research lab in snowy Colorado: the lead scientist, a man named Niko Jovic, has been discovered dead in the Tesla Coil lab of electrocution. Months later, the case has gone cold, so owner Victor Losset decides to take matters into his own hands and hires Nancy to find his employee’s killer — not that there’s any doubt in his mind that Ryan Kilpatrick, the engineer who built the coil that killed Niko, is responsible.

When Nancy arrives on-scene and undercover, however, things aren’t quite as cut and dry as Victor would have her believe. It seems that everyone at the lab has means, motive, and opportunity — and whoever killed Niko doesn’t have any qualms about killing a nosy detective to cover up their crime…

Like with TMB, DED isn’t that interested in obscuring its bad guy to a “gotcha!” moment at the very end of the game. Instead, it’s largely concerned with putting disparate personalities under a huge amount of pressure and seeing what results. No one at the lab is super fond of anyone else who works there, nor of their superiors or employer(s), and all have the equipment and the intelligence to make use of the equipment to deadly ends.

Also like TMB, the crime has already been committed or begun, and it’s not Nancy’s job to prevent it — nothing is going to bring Niko back, after all — but to put together the post-mortem pieces and discover what really happened in the past, and the effect that the living have on the dead. It’s a thematic sort of conflict, and it really helps to elevate the game past “fun science mystery”. And speaking of thematic resonance in this game…

The Theme:

As we discussed last time, TMB was a game about fear — fear of death, of responsibility, of ignominy, of failure, etc. Being its sister game, DED is focused on the opposite of fear: acceptance. Instead of failure, responsibility, and other ever-present fears, DED is about the acceptance of the good, the bad, of yourself, and what others will do with your work and legacy once you’re gone.

In other words, DED is a game most concerned, thematically speaking, with certainty and resolve, rather than fear.

One of the biggest thematic elements in the game that proves this point is the presence of Niko’s recorded diaries. Not only does this feature some excellent voice acting by Josh Crandall, but it also gives a dead character the chance to discuss his motivations, his considerations, and — importantly — his sense of his impending death.

At no point does Niko dissolve into hysterics or even palpable fear; he simply accepts that there are consequences for both his and others’ actions, and that there are people in the world who believe the opposite of what he believes in — and are willing to kill for it.

Niko was a man who personified resolve and acceptance to a fault — had he informed others that his life was in danger, Victor would have had a much harder time killing him — but was also jealous of those who didn’t have to or have the capacity to have that kind of acceptance:

“I see why Tesla liked his pigeons. They fly only where they’re directed, and never question the effect the beating of their wings will have on the skies and the world below.”

The lack of acceptance in our villain is actually what leads to his downfall. The case has gone cold, and Victor is, legally speaking, off the hook — but he can’t accept that he’s gotten away with it, and instead decides to push it one step too far by hiring a detective. Had he not hired anyone, he would have been free and clear for the rest of his life — if the police weren’t able to find anything, the chances of them reopening the cold case are extremely slim — but instead Victor couldn’t accept it, and so hired the instrument of his own demise.

Every suspect has their own resolve in this game, and it’s that facet of their personalities that gives Nancy such a hard time at first, because none of that resolve includes answering the questions of a pesky investigator.

The Suspects:

First off is Obadiah Stane Victor Lossett, Nancy’s boss, owner of Technology of Tomorrow Today, and super evil killer of scientists who piss him off and prevent him from making oodles of money.

Like I mentioned above in “The Mystery”, the game isn’t so much concerned with obscuring Victor’s role as the bad guy. It’s a lovely moment when he shows up, changing from phone to real-life character (and suspect) — it’s in fact one of my favorite moments in the series, and I’ve spoken about it before in my list of the top 5 twists/surprising moments in the series — but it’s not a surprise that he’s involved in Niko’s death.

Victor fulfills the subversion of the formula that DED plays with a while also telling the correct story and theme for the game: he’s a man who took advantage of others for his own personal gain, and so everything he has is taken from him — including his notoriety — because of his lack of acceptance of the world.

“The world fondly remembers those who always give, and soon forgets those who only take.”

Next on the list is Ryan Kilpatrick, Victor’s favored patsy suspect and technical engineer at TTT. Energetic and quirky to (in my opinion) a fault, Ryan warned Niko several times that the Tesla coil would kill him, and then did exactly what he wanted her to do anyway.

To be fair to the girl, she was definitely in love with him, albeit a love more based on pity than on straight-out affection. “He had no one else in the world looking after him”, anyone?

Ryan only makes sense in a world where Niko was killed in the way that it appears first: by a simple malfunction in the Tesla Coil. Because Ryan built it, she would be legally responsible for his death, even though he was her boss when he told her to build it that way. It would be a simple, easy answer, and one that would have been totally thematically opposite of the story the game was telling, which makes her the perfect “preferred” suspect for Victor’s ruse.

Our two research assistants are next for consideration, so let’s start with Ellie York, our night-shift assistant who switched in order to avoid her coworker. A Good Southern Girl, Ellie is not above talking smack with a pretense of politeness and has a rather sinister motive up her sleeve.

Despite the fact that all research done at a lab is property of the lab, she (and Mason) decides that Isn’t Fair and tries to shop around their research to the highest bidder in an attempt to make enough money to pay off her debts.

The fact that she’s selling research that isn’t wholly done by her or Mason when she’s mad that her research is being (contractually and legally) used by someone else does rather put a damper on her ‘righteous anger’, doesn’t it.

As a villain, Ellie would have had to be a pair with Mason, which would have been interesting and a parallel to TMB, but just wouldn’t have told the story that DED wanted to tell. It would have been a story about backbiting and jealousy within a workplace, and thus would have lost its resonance with the historical backstory and with who Niko was as a person. As the victim makes the murder, Ellie (or Mason, or and Mason) would have been a poor choice.

Mason Quinto works the day shift and is far more neurotic than his night-shift companion, though just as guilty of attempting to sell research. He prefers his space neat and orderly, and gets quite steamed when Ellie messes it up to piss him off.

Yeah, there’s no way those two don’t end up in bed when they’re drunk. Honestly.

While the more ‘scientist’-like and nerdy of the two assistants, Mason is, in a refreshing change from normal tropes, also the more maverick of the two, running away with Niko’s work after the murder is solved and is only found at an expo by Gray a bit later, where a fight erupts until Mason comes back to work with Gray and Ellie.

He can also turn into a supervillain in a second chance, which is awesome.

Like I said above with Ellie, the only way Mason makes sense as the villain is to be a pair with Ellie, but it just isn’t the right story, thematically speaking. Mason (and Ellie) are a great example of how everyone in DED is guilty of something, whether they think they’re justified or not, and how putting these kind of people in a pressure cooker and turning it on only leads to disaster, sooner or later.

The last still-living member of our cast is Gray Cortright, security guard and ex-theoretical physicist, along with being probably Niko’s only friend — for a certain value of ‘friend’, it should be noted. Gray used to be the “smart one” until he went through what is basically a nervous breakdown due to his knowledge of theoretical physics and never quite recovered.

I’ll note that Gray would have been a more obvious choice for the early Nancy Drew games; a friendship gone wrong, a slightly “crazy” villain — the pieces are there. But because DED subverts the Classic Formula, Gray is instead probably the only person fully on Niko’s side — no tricks, no ulterior motives, no nothing. He’s exactly what he presents himself to be: gruff, grumpy, unkind, and not even close to a murderer (except, perhaps, where Mason is involved).

Let’s finish off our roll call with Niko Jovic, our murder victim and one of two foils for Nancy in this game. Niko was “100% a scientist”, interested most in the free use and free sharing of technological and scientific advancement, and less interested in developing technology to harm others.

This didn’t make him very popular with those who wanted to harm others, funnily enough.

It’s important that our victim in this case foils Nancy, because this is a game about (as we’ve discussed) acceptance and consequences. The consequence of Niko not paying attention to the fact that other people in the world are not like him was that there was an opening for a bad man to kill him. It’s not Niko’s fault that he was killed, but neither was he unaware that it was coming. He’s described as a ‘dead brilliant jerk madman’, and there’s a lot of truth in that; those who ultimately do good things and work hard are not always good or kind or nice themselves.

And yes, this is how he relates to Nancy. Nancy, like Niko, is a person who rather thinks what most of us would call “people skills” or “kindness” get in the way of the most important thing: solving puzzles and figuring things out. Both of them make the world better through their work, but honestly speaking, that’s not their ultimate aim. They’re not working directly to improve the world, they’re working for knowledge and to solve the puzzle.

In other words, they’re investigators, not philanthropists. And often (ultimately, for Niko), that’s what puts them in danger.

Over on Team Nancy, we have some familiar faces, beginning with our most unfamiliar familiar face, Nancy herself.

Hired as a professional detective undercover, Nancy Drew arrives at the lab to ferret out the murderer — and the truth behind Niko’s death — before anyone figures out that she’s not actually there on behalf of a new owner.

We learn a lot about Nancy in this game, not the least of which because she’s in what we can cheerfully call the opposite of her element (contrasting with TMB). Closely observed, surrounded by a subject that’s not quite in her normal wheelhouse, and where everyone around her is hell-bent on hiding everything they can from her — it’s a recipe for a frustrated detective, and that’s part of the reason that we see the return of not one but two (three? technically) detective (or detective-adjacent) phone friends, rather than Bess/George/Ned.

(Side Note: George, for all her specialty with science and technology, wouldn’t have been a good phone friend for this game, as she would have focused on the science, which isn’t really the point of Nancy’s investigation, and not enough on the case. Just putting that out there.)

This game features Nancy as a sort of patsy, rather than an unexpected observer or the target of revenge, and it should be no surprise that she outgrows that role fairly quickly. Her reluctance to search for evidence against someone, rather than evidence for the crime, clears the hurdle of Ryan’s Suspected Involvement pretty quickly while being the opposite of what Victor wanted out of her assistance.

On display here is Nancy’s fairness and her ability to ignore what others say about a case if it doesn’t suit her. Sure, she’s been told to watch Ryan and find her guilty, but Nancy’s pretty uninterested in that, instead centering her search around Niko rather than Ryan. Ellie makes a comment about Mason being about 60% scientist (and Niko being 100%), and it’s fair to say that Nancy’s about 60% a detective; she has other interests and motivations, but when she’s ‘at work’, she’s focused on doing her job to the greatest extent that she can — which is what makes her such a problem for Victor in the long run. And speaking of problems for Victor…

Returning from her role as the gloriously catty mean girl in ASH is Deirdre Shannon, criminology student and absolute sass master. Busted for hiring someone to write an essay for her in college, Deirdre’s clever enough to suggest making up the credit by assisting in a real-life murder investigation — albeit with a heavy dose of sarcasm for her frenemy.

Besides having the best lines in the game (her “did you forget that I don’t like you?” and voicemail message are incredible, along with her assertion that Nancy should get her head checked out due to her repeated hits on the head), Deirdre is there to help Nancy see things from a different perspective and to clue her in on information that she has no way to get — backing up alibis, old publications, and the like. She’s less concerned with the background of the case — the Hardy Boys (!!) have that covered — and is more here to figure out exactly who can be taken off of Nancy’s suspect list and why.

She also, in a rather glorious twist of fate, is the reason that Nancy is hired, having told Victor that Nancy suffers from “chronic wrongness”, among other things. I can just imagine how pissed Victor must have been in jail with her — more than with Nancy, certainly — and can easily see a future where, upon his release/escape, Victor goes after Deirdre — it was after all Deirdre, not Nancy, who cleared Ryan.

But enough about games that would have been better than MID. That’s a nigh-unquenchable topic.

Deirdre’s there as the more prominent foil to Nancy within the game — and the game isn’t shy about foiling the two women. Both are bright, both come from River Heights, both are interested in/involved with the same boy, both are involved in crimes/criminology to some extent…the list goes on.

The thing that Deirdre-as-foil shows us about Nancy is that Nancy isn’t unique in what she does. Sure, the way she got into the mystery business and her credentials are unusual, but she’s far from the only girl in her late teens that’s interested in crime and mysteries, and far from the only one who can solve these types of mysteries.

Deirdre is often referred to as “the girl who could have been Nancy Drew” had things worked out differently for her — different parents, different friends, different connections, etc. — and we see that play out here. She’s not lacking for smarts, intuitive thinking, or creative problem solving — just in opportunity.

The Hardy Boys are here for their only appearance in the Nancy Games, and boy do they do The Most.

When last we saw him, Frank Hardy was helping Nancy out with a ‘relationship talk’, but here he’s interested in two things: talking to Nancy and researching to help Nancy. He’s quite proud of Nancy and her reputation, and is more than willing to help her on the case — though his first priority is her safety, as demonstrated by the voicemail.

That really should be capitalized, huh. “The Voicemail”.

I first wanna say kudos to DED for actually making progress in Frank’s character arc and relationship with Nancy, and giving context to his sulking in the next game. So often in games like the Nancy Drew games — and indeed, in the earlier games in this series — there’s an addiction to the status quo that doesn’t really allow for anyone to learn anything permanent, much less something that changes their behavior, so I’m pretty thrilled with this development even outside of shipping.

Second, I love that this is a topic that both boys are interested in, albeit for different reasons. Too often we have either Frank or Joe being enthusiastic about the context of Nancy’s investigation, and it’s nice here to see that the boys can agree on something — even if their answers are different as to why.

Speaking of different reasons for interest, Joe Hardy is back (we haven’t seen him for quite a few games!) and is better than ever. I’ve said it before (and I’ll say it again), but really Rob Jones does a phenomenal job with Joe, especially as the games progress, and DED is a perfect example. Joe’s dialogue is pitch-perfect and his excitement about Tesla is adorable.

I’m also going to point out that Joe’s identity as a very proficient tactician is in play in this game, as he is the one to point out how very strange it is that a man of means and importance would hire Nancy — not that, as Frank points out, Nancy doesn’t have a great reputation, but just that Victor should be able to hire a world-class detective rather than a girl in her late teens to investigate this murder.

The thing that the Hardy Boys are here to represent is Nancy’s fledgling footing into the professional world. Sure, she’s been a detective for hire for a while now, and TOT sort of ushered her into that world for good, but the Boys have been doing this for much, much longer, and have the sort of resources that make a huge difference when investigating crimes like murder versus circumstances like “my daughter is unhappy go help her”.

For all of Nancy’s natural inclinations, talents, and drive that make her a good detective, the Hardy Boys (along with Deirdre) show the downside of being an autodidact: the breadth of your resources isn’t anywhere near what others’ might be. The things she needs to solve this mystery are privy to those with better resources — colleges and agencies — and she has to rely on them to get the job done.

The Favorite:

DED is a game that I didn’t expect to like, but ended up really loving, so there’s quite a few things in this section that stand out.

The first thing I want to mention is I love Ellie and Mason’s interactions. In a lot of Nancy Drew games, we get the characters interacting with Nancy, but not so much interacting with each other, so it’s always a pleasure for me when it happens.

Deirdre holds her title as one of my favorite characters in this series, so of course she’s going to get a mention here. The “TDPD” segment has me rolling on the floor, her comment about Nancy volunteering for a neurological study sounds exactly like what a lot of fans joke about, and her voice acting (major props to Meaghan Halverson) is equal parts snide and earnest, all without ever losing her edge or likability.

As anyone who’s been in the vicinity of these metas knows, I’m a huge fan of the Hardy Boys, and I love their inclusion here. The geeking out over Tesla, the brotherly camaraderie, the hints at Frank’s feelings, Joe teasing Frank about said feelings — it’s all here, and it’s all wonderful.

My favorite puzzle would probably have to be the whole fingerprint-melting-gummy-bear puzzle, just because — I mean, at the end of the day, that’s just cool. I did a forensic-science-style unit in my elementary years where we printed fingerprints and distinguished between whorls and such and this made me exactly as excited as I had been all those years ago. It’s fun, fitting with the story, and involves gummy candies — what’s not to like?

My favorite moment — and I’ve mentioned this once already in this meta, and in a different meta — is the moment that Victor shows up. Savvy players of this series would know that there’s no way HER would include a model of Victor just for a video call, so it’s not exactly a surprise, but it’s such a wonderfully scary moment without being a jump scare or a startle.

Victor’s appearance closes down Nancy’s snooping spots, removes a safe place for her, turns the last bit of the game into a sort of mix of detective and stealth game, and is a huge subversion of the usual “phone-client” formula, and I absolutely love it.

My last favorite thing about this game is when you realize that Victor hired Nancy due to her supposed incompetence, rather than her being, in Frank’s words, one of the best that there is. It chills you down to the bone and makes the whole game feel more antagonistic as a result, and is just a really nice writing moment.

The Un-Favorite:

There are, however, a few things that maybe aren’t so grand in this game, even with all its good points.

My least favorite puzzle is probably the chemical puzzle — with the beakers and the exploding water and such — just because it’s quite finicky, and it takes up time that I’d rather be doing other things with. I thought about the printing puzzle, but honestly even though it takes time within the game to do it, there’s plenty of other things to do with Nancy’s time that makes the time spent there not so big a deal.

My least favorite moment in the game is, quite frankly, the time spent talking to Ryan. I find all the characters interesting as characters, but Ryan is exactly the kind of Quirk that I don’t handle well, in real life and in video games.

Honestly, her remark of “I less-than-three them!” was enough to get me to stand up and walk away from the game for a minute the first time I played through it.

Had this game come out a few decades earlier, she would have referred to Niko as “totally tubular” and stuff like that, and it’s…it’s just a lot to handle for me personally.

The Fix:

So how would I fix The Deadly Device?

Honestly speaking, this is a game where there’s not a lot to do. I’d probably tweak Ryan to be a little less annoying and smooth out the chemicals puzzle, but those are more personal grievances than they are actual issues with the plot and writing.

Probably the only substantial thing I’d do is tie in the robotic cat plotline a little more. As it is, it’s easy to ignore and doesn’t have a lot of plot or thematic resonance, so I’d make it a little more important and noteworthy. And less scary looking.

DED is a game that sets out to tell a good story while subverting the usual Nancy Drew formula in big and small ways, and honestly it succeeds at both of those things with flying colors. It really feels like a setting where life went on before and will go on after Nancy leaves it, which is Valuable to me all by itself, and features some of the more colorful moments in the series — all while solving an actual murder for the first time since a Florida high school in the 90s.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #the deadly device #clue crew #nancy drew meta #DED #video games #my meta

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