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chimcess · 6 months

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Waterlog || pjm (3)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 12.2k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), talks of bad parental relationships, abandonment issues, some PTSD, prescription medication use, mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, writing this is so comforting even when its angsty lol, i think that's it, let me know if I missed something A/N: Hello hello. Probably my favorite chapter to date. Bad news is that I think this series might be a little longer than originally intended. My inability to just get to the point has things moving a little slow, but I'm trying my best. We'll have to see, though! Hope you enjoy reading :)

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Time went by quickly. Wednesday and Friday morning, Jimin and I met up to train for a few hours and then got breakfast together. When he asked if I wanted to work out with him in the evenings, I agreed. In the beginning, I had given him pointers, but after the second week came to a close, we had started exercising in silence. We spotted one another, made small talk, and went to dinner on the nights he did not go home to be with his parents. We got along and I was happy my overwhelming attraction to him had slowly calmed down.

I was still aware of his presence, the way he smelled, and how often he smiled and laughed, but I had grown used to seeing him walking around in barely anything at all. Hoseok called me a cougar whenever we had time to chat while Andy kept telling me to talk with Jimin about how I felt, but I had gotten very good at deflecting. Things were better and I was taking my wins whenever I could get them. Even if those wins meant I went home sexually frustrated and aching for someone to make it better.

Jimin was packing up for the night and I was getting ready to head out. He had plans with a large group of his friends, so I would have to figure out dinner by myself this time. He invited me but I politely declined. I could vaguely recall how rude his friends from that restaurant had been, and that one girl's mean glare. I had no interest in repeating that.

Giselle waved at me on her way out which I returned with a smile. She was a very sweet, college girl and getting to know her was fun. Her brother moved out here six years ago and was the only reason she left Memphis. In-State tuition and a rent-free bedroom was all it took to convince her to spend some quality time with her big brother and his dog, Lucky.

She and Sam were the closest, but I would often see her eating lunch with Megan when he was with a client. Everyone was making bets on when they would eventually hook up, but I was convinced that had already happened and they were keeping it a secret from the nosy staff.

"See you tomorrow," Yoongi called out from across the room, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

He was out of eyesight before I could reply.

"Bye Yoon," Giselle sing-songed anyway, shoving her ear buds in and leaving before the door could close behind Yoongi. "Night guys!"

As the young woman said, Yoongi and Megan were the two most important people to befriend. Not just for massages either. The both of them were hilarious and kept the back fridge stocked with our favorite snacks. On the mornings I did not have time to eat breakfast, Megan stopped and got me a muffin and coffee from her favorite cafe. If I needed someone to help me out in the pool, Yoongi was always happy to offer himself for the job. It was challenging for me to focus on my swimming when Jimin was around, and I would often come in early to get a quick work out in before he got here.

“You okay getting home?” Jimin asked.

We had come together tonight, and he had offered to drive us in his truck. I had grown very fond of the green machine, which Jimin affectionately called Fiona, and I jumped at the chance to get in his passenger seat. We were usually riding around in my car since it was better on gas.

“Yeah, I’m riding with Sam.”

Sam and I had grown close as well. He was super funny and always down to hang out with me if I showed up by myself. On the odd Sunday I felt like getting out of the house, I found myself at the gym with Sam. I was currently attempting to teach him how to swim and always filled in for Yoongi on the weekends.

Jimin nodded, “Good. See you this weekend?”

I smiled, “Can’t miss your big party.”

Jimin’s 24th birthday was on the 13th and his family liked to go big. Eloise was clearing out an entire section in their restaurant for all of us, and I had found myself teamed up with Taehyung to help with the planning. Na-Yeon put everything in his hands since she was not feeling up to the task this year. I only agreed to help when I realized just how overboard the snowboarder would go if no one was there to reel him back in. So far, I had placed the responsibility of decorating, music, and organizing the gift table on my shoulders. James had pulled me aside and thanked me when he found out. Apparently, he was also worried about Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

“It should be fun,” He nodded. “I’m going to head out.”

“See you tomorrow,” We had finally started coming 5 days a week. "We're working on your turns. Butterflies, too. Be prepared.”

He groaned, “You’re torturing me, coach.”

I laughed, “Is the baby upset?”

“Very,” He winked. My mouth went dry. Sometimes I felt silly for getting nervous around him, especially when I knew he flirted with everyone. I was not special. “See you Saturday.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled as I stared at his retreating back. “See you.”

Jimin’s birthday passed quietly. We had a great time and ate well. Taehyung got drunk enough to suggest karaoke once we cleared out the place for the night, and he and Na-yeon had all of us cracking up. I finally met Jungkook’s girlfriend, a pretty girl who did not talk very much, and I could feel the tension between the two of them. Jimin said that was just how they were and to ignore it.

After Jungkook successfully shoved Jimin's face into his cake, we opened presents. The boys got him tons of workout clothes and gear, Eloise bought him a new blender, and his parents both chipped in to get the new video game he had been talking about picking up.

I gifted him a bottle of his favorite cologne after Na-Yeon mentioned he was out. Jo Malone was the most distracting thing in my life right now, its scent clinging to the passenger side of my car most days and driving me insane if Jimin stood too close. Still, it was something I did not think I could part with now. Jimin was happy with the present and hugged me after opening it. I was positive I had this stupid grin on my face for the rest of the night.

By Halloween we were in the gym every day, save Sunday and the occasional Saturday when Jimin needed some time to rest. We both kept our word, our conversation at the restaurant we went to with Jungkook and Taehyung sticking better than I thought it would. Overtime he got more confident when asking for a break and I was a professional at picking up on his body language. We were a good team, and I was confident he would be in great shape for the Olympics.

It was mid-November now and Taehyung had finally gotten around to getting us together for the sushi date in Detroit. I had just gotten out of the shower when Jimin messaged he was going to come along. His mom had a rough Sunday and could not go to their usual dance class, so he had stayed with her instead. He looked worn out when he walked inside the pool room Monday morning so instead of training, I just sent him home. We were meeting back up on Wednesday to get back to work, but it seemed Jungkook’s nagging finally convinced him to come out with the rest of us.

My relationships with his friends had also started to improve. Taehyung had added me to their group chat a few weeks back and I had tried to keep up with them as often as I could remember to. It was not difficult. They text so often I had to silence notifications for the chat, but I had to admit they were really funny. Jungkook especially.

I was happy to spend time with everyone and getting out of the house sounded nice. Violet and Calvin were great, and I did enjoy eating dinner with them sometimes, but I would be lying if I said they would be my first choice to spend time with.

I had grown close enough with Taehyung during the partying planning that his bubbly, over the top personality had become more endearing than overwhelming. We had gone to lunch a few times together, his boldness only increasing with each meet up, and he could hold me hostage for hours if I let him. Milo was typically my saving grace, and Taehyung would leave with a wet kiss to my cheek and promises of the same time next week.

Tae: Y/N should pick you up

Jimin: Why???

Kookie: Your truck is ass

I chuckled and sent off a text of my own before going to my dresser to find something warm to wear.

Me: I don’t mind driving

Me: Don’t hate on the truck. I like it.

My phone chimed a few times but I ignored it for now. I knew I wanted to wear a pair of dark, navy jeans. It was freezing outside so a long sleeve was a must, but I could get away with just two layers. My hands found a mustard-yellow turtleneck and I smiled. I could wear my brown boots with it. Happy with my outfit, I checked on the chat.

Jimin: U sure?

Tae: The truck is GREEN

Tae: Already a crime

Kookie: It can’t go over 60

Darcy: omg stop blowing my phone up

Darcy: just ride with her dude

Jimin: Y/N?

I rolled my eyes. I hated when he did that. Jimin had the habit of double and triple checking in with someone. It was sweet but it also drove me insane. There was nothing more I disliked than repeating myself, especially if I already agreed to something.

Me: I’ll pick you up in 30, k?

Jimin: Thanks

Darcy: Was that so hard?

I frowned. So, Darcy was in a bad mood then. Shouldn't take it out on Jimin, I thought. Even if she was having a bad day, something that seemed to be a reoccurring theme with her, it doesn't mean she can just talk to people like that. Fighting the urge to give into my annoyance and call her out, I tossed my phone on my bed and made myself finish getting ready.

Walking into the living room, I went on a hunt for the jacket I wanted to wear. It was the same color as my leather boots with sherpa trim. It would tie everything together and, I hoped, would keep Taehyung from complaining too much about the “offensive” color of my shirt. He had a hard time accepting anything in the yellow or green family. Finding it on the sofa, I nodded and left it be. I would grab it on my way out.

It took me more time to get my hair figured out than anything, but once I gave up and did the same thing that I did every day, it worked itself. After that, I put on a little bit of makeup since I figured it would not take me very long. This was a casual outing with friends and the dim lights of the sushi place would give me some grace if things were not perfect. A nice base, simple eye look, and a layer of mascara already had me looking more awake than I had in months. After applying a layer of lip gloss and a misting of setting spray, I was out of the door, jacket keeping me warm, and purse tucked under my arm.

I drove in silence, like I always did, and pulled onto the curb of Jimin’s house. Sending a text to the chat, I waited for him to come out. I was a few minutes later than I said I would be, but Jimin found a way to be late for everything, so I did not feel that bad about it. Taehyung and Milo were already on leaving Ann Arbor, and Jungkook and Darcy riding with them. They would only beat us there by fifteen minutes or so, but I hoped he would hurry up and come outside. Taehyung worked hard for those reservations.

My phone vibrated and I stared at the little device in my cup holder. It was weird how my anxiety fluctuated on a daily basis. Back home, I could talk on the phone and hold a conversation behind the wheel, but ever since I came to Michigan it felt like I had taken three massive steps back. Taking a few deep breaths, I told myself that I was safe. I was parked, completely stationary, and no one was around. No traffic meant no accidents. Sucking in a harsh breath, I picked it up.

Jimin: Be out in a sec

Jimin: Just making sure mom is okay

He had not left his mother’s house in days. I was worried about Na-Yeon, but I had to believe that Jimin would tell me if something was seriously wrong with her. I had truly started to feel connected with the woman. We joked over dinner and I found myself helping her out more and more each time I came by. It would devastate me if she passed away without me knowing how bad it had gotten.

Me: Take your time

He came out only two minutes later. Wearing a heavy, black puffy jacket and tight pants, Jimin leisurely walked over and got into the car. His cologne hit me as soon as the door opened, and I bit my lip, trying to hide the deep inhale I took. Jo fucking Malone.

He smiled at me but otherwise kept quiet as I drove. He knew I had a difficult time behind the wheel and tried his best to keep conversation light. While I normally appreciated the sentiment, I did not want to make him sit in silence for 45 minutes. Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I struggled to come up with a good conversation topic.

We often bounced from idea to idea, mostly sticking to swimming and music, and I always found our little talks to be very insightful. Movies and tv shows had been fun to bond over, a small generational gap introducing us to shit we had never heard of before. There were so many things I could bring up, things that Jimin would jump at the idea to talk about. Still, I could not find my voice.

“So,” I started, awkwardly, trying to push past the blockade of anxiety. “Is this place as good as Tae says or is he going off on one of his rants again?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “It’s pretty good, but it’s still just sushi. Taehyung finds a way to make everything sound extravagant.”

We shared a quiet laugh.

“It was nice of him to invite me,” My hands gripped the wheel tighter. We were starting to approach more populated areas. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Jimin snorted childishly, the sound relaxing me ever so slightly. If there was one thing I hated was driving at night. I was lucky the snow had stopped falling yesterday afternoon and the roads were clear, but a part of me wished I had asked Jimin to drive.

Traffic in Saline was lighter than any town back in Colorado, and driving around was a breeze in comparison. At home, you were lucky if there was only one accident a day, but more times than not I had been stuck on the interstate for hours because of multiple car crashes. Michigan felt less hectic; safer. Not safe enough to let my guard down, but safe enough to listen to Jimin when he spoke.

“Taehyung is just that kind of guy.”

I nodded; eyes glued to the road. I wanted to say something and keep our conversation flowing, but the more cars around us the more I tuned him out. My eyes flickered between my rearview mirror, side mirrors, and windshield rapidly as I drove. Once we were out of Saline and on I-94, I loosened my grip on the wheel. We would not hit much traffic until we were closer to Detroit.

Jimin stayed quiet and looked out the window. I wanted to thank him for being so understanding, but I knew he would not want me to. I kept my thoughts to myself and focused on the road. Jimin began to hum an unfamiliar tune.

My hands were shaking when we pulled up to the restaurant. Traffic had gotten pretty bad coming into the city, but we had picked a good day to come out. Jimin hummed and sang underneath his breath for most of the car ride, and we had a few small sporadic conversations when I felt the knots in my stomach loosen for a few brief moments.

"It's been forever since I've come here," Jimin said to himself, going to unbuckle his seat belt. "It looks pretty filled up."

Bash was a sushi place across from Wayne State University's football field and was one Taehyung’s favorite restaurants. He bragged about how delicious their food was for weeks before finally wearing me down with the promise of picking up the tab. He made reservations for their omakase, or “chef’s choice,” and promised I would get his obsession.

When I talked to Megan about it, she had said it was an expensive meal, so I was going to try and force myself to enjoy it regardless of my own personal feelings. Jimin seemed to like it here, and we usually enjoyed a lot of the same foods, so it made me feel a bit better about things.

I had to park down the street and spotted Taehyung’s Mazda a few cars away. Instead of getting out, I took a few moments to gather my composure. Jimin sat beside me patiently. He had grown used to my traffic anxiety. We had driven together so many times now, and he had gotten a taste of the worst of it a handful of times.

He had only asked about it the first time we rode to the gym together, completely frazzled and unsure of himself as I hyperventilated in the driver's seat. My hands trembled violently as my palms sweat profusely, and I let myself shed a few tears once we were parked. He reached out, placing a hand on my back, and quietly asked me what was bothering me.

“Red light,” I managed to wheeze out. They were doing some construction on the main road and things started piling up. I had gotten stuck in the intersection for just a few seconds, but it was long enough to send me into a blind panic. “Anxiety. Sorry. Need a minute.”

He helped me calm down, calming down to help me through my panic attack. We played a game of I-Spy, Jimin picking out the most obvious shit and saying the most random things to point out in order to make me laugh. When I felt a little better, he got out of the car to help me get out. After that he kept quiet about my obvious driving discomforts, but stuck close just in case I needed the support, and always offered to drive.

“Ready?” He asked when I grabbed my phone out of the cup holder.

“Yeah.”

We walked inside and the hostess made light conversation while she walked us to the back. Taehyung's laugh could be heard from the other side of the room, and his bright blue hair and vibrant eyeshadow stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. Milo was dressed in all black, his arm draped around his fiancé's shoulder, and a smile on his face. Jungkook was beside him scrolling through his phone, but Darcy was nowhere in sight. Glancing at Jimin, he seemed exasperated.

“Trouble in paradise,” He murmured, leaning down so I could hear him. I had to imagine their relationship was very exhausting and took its toll on their friend group. I knew how much it sucked being caught between Tilly and Hobi back in the day. “Here we fucking go.”

Taehyung jumped out of the booth when he caught sight of us, his fluffy, white cropped top riding up, revealing even more of his tanned skin. The snowboarder wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled my hairline, showering me in compliments. Gold hoop earrings tapped my forehead, and his belly button ring was cold against my ribcage. He was happy to see me “dolled up” for once and forgave how ugly my shirt was since I looked “so cute.”

Milo gave me a slight wave, eyes never leaving Taehyung's bouncing body as he embraced Jimin, and Jungkook put his phone down to greet us. Darcy had gone to the bathroom and from the look on Milo’s face, Jimin’s was right about trouble in paradise. Whatever was going on, we were all about to fall witness. It made my stomach churn just thinking about it.

Our waitress brought a new pot of tea, asking us if we needed anything, before leaving with the promise of the first course coming out soon. Darcy almost slammed into the poor woman on her way back to our booth, her annoyed huff making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When she sat down beside her boyfriend her entire body was rigged and face pulled together tightly. She did not spare us a glance as she sulked.

Darcy was a very beautiful girl and it made sense why Jungkook liked her so much. Tanned skin, green eyes, and black hair, the girl had one of those bodies most women would pay thousands of dollars for. Like Taehyung had said, she was a pleasant enough person, and we did not along well enough to hold a conversation, but there was no hiding the fact that Darcy was not a nice girl. In fact, I would venture to say she was very, very mean.

I saw it firsthand at Jimin’s birthday party. I had a moment where I felt myself panicking. Overwhelmed with all of the noise and people, I excused myself and called Andy to get my head back on straight. The women's restroom was tucked away in a small hallway and allowed me the space to shed a few tears. I was just starting to calm down, Andy's words of encouragement getting back to some sort of baseline, while I rubbed cold water on my neck. That was when I heard Jungkook on the other side of the door.

He was angry and when I told Andy I needed to go, I had every intention of going out there to talk to him, but another voice beat me to it. Darcy had been in a bad mood since she walked through the front door, her shitty attitude bringing down the party every time she opened her mouth. At first, I just brushed it off as an off night, something I could feel empathy towards, but then she opened her mouth and stopped those thoughts in their tracks.

The two of them were serial cheaters, and Jimin had alluded to that being their main issue when I asked about her attitude problem earlier that night. Eloise was the person who gave me the whole story and was not afraid to voice her dislike for the older girl. This was different from Milo, a guy who she clashed with due to their night and day personalities. Darcy had actively picked on and made fun of her growing up, and bullied her older sister while they were in school together.

Darcy, according to Eloise, started the back-and-forth cheating when they were in college. Instead of going their separate ways, something I doubt anyone would have blamed Jungkook for doing, he chose to get even. After fucking one of her sorority sisters, Jungkook made his way through the entire house within the span of three months. In retaliation, Darcy slept with a couple of guys from the NHL, something she still did to this day.

On the night of the party, she was still fuming over catching him with another woman a few days prior. Trapped in the bathroom and too afraid to let them know I could hear them; I suffered through five minutes of a couple’s quarrel I had no business being in the middle of. It was an eye opener for sure and made me avoid getting too close to either of them.

Darcy was very mean and spiteful, her words meant to cut him deeply with little care about how it would make him feel in the long run. She even brought up screwing one of his rivals to get back at him, something she had done on numerous occasions, and went as far as to compare the two men in bed. It helped to explain why Jungkook hated Jackson Wang so much.

Jungkook, despite how much I enjoyed him as an individual, was just as awful. He spent most of the argument defending his bad behavior by bringing up her own and took no accountability for his actions. He could have sex with all of Michigan and it would be justified because she cheated on him first. It was all very juvenile, and I tried my best to avoid them for the rest of the night.

“Bet they can’t go ten minutes without fighting,” Jimin mumbled in my ear.

I fought back a smile, leaning into his side. Physical touch was the swimmer’s love language and I had slowly grown accustomed to small touches here and there. So, it did not catch me off guard when his arm came around my shoulders, resting just above my head, hand gently brushing against my neck. The voice in my head often wished he would do it more often.

“She won’t start something before the food gets here,” I reasoned, stealing a look at the couple. Jungkook seemed fine, but from the look on Darcy’s face that might change soon. “I’ll say twenty.”

“What are we bargaining for?”

I laughed awkwardly, “Whatever you want.”

Taking a second to think, Jimin eyed the couple across the table. Taehyung and Milo were obviously extremely aware of the couple's awkward tension and tactfully ignored them, instead giggling about some inside joke. They were a very sweet pair. My weariness about Milo had dissipated over the last few weeks, but I could understand why he and Eloise could not get along.

Lou herself had admitted to being a bit of a stuck-up teenager back in the day, and Milo was the typical small-town stoner. They constantly butt heads when they were in high school, and just drifted apart with age. Taehyung and Jimin's friendship were the only reason they were in the same circle anymore, and the two just never spoke to avoid pressing buttons.

“I want to do something together,” Jimin finally said, I smiled, trying to ignore the snarky comments Darcy was making. The arguing was starting, and I felt my neck growing hot. Did they have to do this in public? “Get dinner or something.”

“We do that all the time,” I countered, half-heartedly paying attention to him.

“Denny’s doesn’t count," He mumbled.

The waitress finally came back with a large tray of sushi in her hand. That seemed to break up the argument momentarily, but Darcy did not seem pleased to be interrupted. Stuffing a large piece of ahi sashimi in my mouth, I sparked up a conversation with Taehyung to keep myself from having another meltdown. Beside him, Milo sent me a grateful look.

The rest of the table was silent, waiting for the fight to resume. Taehyung kept smiling painfully, but I could see the panic bubbling in his eyes, and for once I saw a small crack in his otherwise well-crafted facade.

“I didn’t mean just getting food,” Jimin finally continued when we hit a lull, and it took me a few seconds to remember what he was talking about. “I meant… going out.”

I looked at him, eyebrow raised. His cheeks were puffed with scallops and I wished we were alone. This was not a conversation I wanted to have in front of the others, especially if he was insinuating what I thought he was. I did not want to jump to conclusions, but I was sure he was asking me out on a date. Even if it made me feel jittery thinking about it, I had a difficult time finding the voice to say yes. Saying no felt just as impossible, though, and I wished he would have picked a better time to bring this up. Whatever the hell this was.

“What are you asking me?” I whispered, taking another piece of fish off my plate, sneaking a look at Taehyung and Milo.

They were too wrapped up in one another to being listening in on us. I did not even bother checking in with the other two. I knew for a fact they did not care about anybody else but themselves.

“You know,” He replied.

Dating was not off the table, and I was more than happy to indulge myself, but I was worried about crossing this invisible line I had drawn. What would people say if they found out? A coach and her trainee, and even worse, the older woman and her much younger man. I could see the headlines now and it made my palms sticky. That would not be a good look for either one of us, and I did not want our personal relationship to affect Jimin’s career.

Putting my chopsticks down, I leaned away from him. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nodded, meeting my eyes, and I was relieved to see he was not upset. I had seen him angry a few times now, and he wore it on his sleeve with pride. Jimin was not afraid of his emotions, something I found extremely attractive, and it was nice that all I could see right now was understanding. Whatever happened he would hear me out, and I had to hope he would be understanding. I just had to be sure I did not fuck anything up.

Across the table the bickering had started again. Our waitress brought out the rest of our meal, sans desert, and seemed happy we were enjoying the food. She eyed Darcy wearily and left our table in a hurry. I felt horrible for the wait staff who had come to our table. They were all getting the nastiest looks from the dark haired beauty.

“Do we really have to do this now?” Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair roughly. His face was red and expression tight. “In front of my friends, dude? Are you serious?”

I cleared my throat, grabbed my tea and took a long sip before sinking into the booth and praying no one could see me. Jimin’s arm dropped, and he squeezed my shoulder in comfort. I let myself melt under his touch. It always felt nice when his hands were on me, his warmth burning hot like a furnace even in below freezing temperatures. Taehyung’s eyes were bulging out of his head now, his bottom lip trembling as he tried his best to keep the conversation between the four of us light. He had stopped trying to include the other two.

“You two seem close,” He gritted, fakeness coming from him that I had never encountered before. “Glad you were able to sort that out.”

I looked over at Jimin and saw his cheeks had gone pink. So, Taehyung knew something I didn’t. It would make sense for the childhood best friend to get the scoop before the chick he’s known for two months, I had definitely vented to my friends on more than one occasion, and my curiosity was peaked.

“I'm working on it,” Jimin replied, taking a big gulp of water. “Thanks, Tae," He breathed, rolling his eyes.

I stifled a laugh. He was so cute when he was embarrassed. I made a mental note to ask Tae to explain what he meant when we had a chance to get lunch. I had a feeling the snowboarder would be more than happy to divulge that little piece of information.

“Talking about me to your friends?” I teased, trying my best to ignore the ever-growing argument across from me. The butterflies in my stomach were a helpful distraction. “Good things, I hope.”

He cracked a smile, face and neck flushed. “The best things.”

Such a flirt.

I bit my lip and looked away. Eating was a nice way to interrupt the electricity that was enveloping us, and I gorged myself on octopus and tuna. Whatever the hell these dishes were, I had to admit the sushi here was the best I had ever had. I would never doubt a recommendation from Taehyung again.

The conversation started flowing easily after that. Jungkook and Darcy were at a stalemate and were relatively quiet on their side of the booth. With the atmosphere lightening, Milo felt good enough to start telling us his latest work stories. He was a firefighter along with all three of his brothers. His father was promoted to chief about five years ago but was coming up to his retirement. The only one of his siblings to avoid the fireman fate was his baby sister, but had still managed to find a job at the station.

"You guys must be close," I laughed in disbelief.

“It’s the family business,” He joked. "Rosie is our new EMT."

Taehyung spoke excitedly about his upcoming competitions and was really hopeful he would win enough to qualify for the Olympics this year. Milo and Jimin both reassured him multiple times while I tried my best to keep up with everything he was talking about. I had very little knowledge of snowboarding, so I was having to constantly interrupt and ask for clarification. No one seemed to mind, and eventually Jungkook joined in to talk about his upcoming hockey games.

The Red Wings were having a good year, and he was proud of his team for working as hard as they did. As a goalie, he did not do a lot of skating, but his job was one of the hardest on the team. From what I knew after watching a few games on tv with Jimin's family, Jungkook was one of the best goalies in the NHL who was highly sought after. He had been offered millions to transfer to the New York Rangers, but out of loyalty he turned them down.

“I’ll take you to a few matches if you want,” Jimin offered. “Kook can get us tickets whenever.”

I smiled, “That sounds like fun.”

“Milo and I go all of the time so we can sit together,” Taehyung interjected, his shoulders relaxed for the first time since we got here.

Darcy was quiet and stayed on her phone. Jungkook was pretending she was not here, and it helped keep the arguing from starting again. I was not sure how long the truce would last, but I hoped they could hold it together long enough for us to finish eating.

“So Y/N,” Milo mused, taking a piece of fish from Taehyung’s plate. “Have you ever thought about competing again?”

I laughed nervously, “For a time, maybe. My injuries make it hard for me to swim the way I used to so I decided to keep it as a hobby.”

It was not a complete lie, but I knew I might be able to get back into competitions if I put in the time and effort. I hated the thought of being back in the spotlight, cameras shoved in my face, only to lose and give them more to talk about. I was still recovering from the trauma they inflicted on me after the accident. My leg injuries just gave me the perfect excuse to keep my distance.

He nodded, eyebrows knitted, “I didn’t know you had medical leave. What happened?”

Jimin tensed up beside me.

“I was in a car accident,” I replied. Talking about what happened did not bother me as much as it used to, and Milo seemed genuinely interested in the answer. “I had to get a full knee replacement on my left side, and a full hip replacement. I should have lost my leg, but the doctor on staff recognized me and brought up my profession.”

Milo whistled, giving me a sympathetic look. “Leg? You could have died.”

“Well,” I breathed, finishing off my last piece of fish. “I pulled through though, so it wasn’t all bad.” I fiddled with my shirt, pretending to smooth it down as I played it cool. "Anyway, I have nerve damage in my leg that makes me get really horrible cramps and twitching if I overwork my muscles. It sucks but coaching is really fun, so I can't complain."

Blatantly lying wasn't something I did often, but I truly hated reliving the months of physical therapy. Unable to walk or talk, I was stuck in that hospital bed for weeks and then got sent home to watch my closest friends wait on me hand-and-foot. When I wasn’t in physical therapy, I was with my SLP. When I wasn’t with her then I was in bed, crying into my pillow, and wishing I had never woken up. It was an extremely dark time in my life, one filled with chronic pain and overwhelming depression, and talking about it made me emotional.

“Anyway,” Taehyung sent his fiancé a pointed look. “Kookie’s next home game is in two weeks.”

Happy to be out of the spotlight, I began to talk with Jimin about changing our schedule around so we could attend the game. Taehyung was excited to get me some Red Wing merchandise, and Jungkook quickly began to boast about his prowess on the ice. Darcy scoffed beside him and I felt the group tense up.

“You’re so cocky, Ian,” She taunted, eyes glued to her phone. “I heard Avalanche was doing really well this season.”

I knew from the group chat that the Red Wings and the Colorado Avalanche had a long-standing rivalry. It had started all the way back in the mid-90’s and reached its peak in 2002. While the intensity had dissipated over the years, it had recently spiked up again due to Jungkook and Jackson Wang’s ongoing feud. The only reason Darcy would bring that up would be to piss her boyfriend off.

“Hm,” Jungkook smirked, chuckling darkly. “Who told you that?”

I held my breath, already guessing where this was going. The tension from earlier was thicker than ever as we fell silent. Darcy put her phone on the table, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked Jungkook in the face as she replied.

“Jackson.”

It was dead silent for a few seconds. Then, without waiting for a response, Darcy kept digging the knife in and twisting. She called him ugly, said he sucked in bed, brought up all of the ways Jackson was better than he was, and went as far as to bring up his father's affair. Jungkook could not get a word in as her silky voice dropped lower and lower, words cutting deeper and deeper, and eyes growing brighter as she watched his expression fall. I learned something tonight. Darcy enjoyed hurting Jungkook.

"Why are you doing this, dude?" Jungkook's voice was thick with emotion. "You're acting like a fucking child. It's embarrassing."

“Holy shit,” Milo groaned as their voices got louder. “Are they being forreal right now?”

“Babe,” Taehyung scolded, the forced smile still plastered on his face. “Language.”

“You weren’t embarrassed when you fucked that girl” Darcy screamed and I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably. “Why should I feel bad about airing out my dirty laundry? Everyone here knows how much of a whore I am anyway, isn’t that right, Ian?”

“Keep your voice down,” Jungkook hissed, eyes glassy. “You’re causing a scene.”

Taehyung and Milo looked as mortified as I felt, both of them staring at Darcy in horror. The entire restaurant had gone silent. Eyes were glued to our table as they argued. She shouted about him getting his dick sucked in their bed, and Jungkook was just angry she was acting like this in public. It was Jimin��s birthday all over again only this time they knew people were watching and did not care. Taehyung’s smile was finally gone and replaced by trembling lips and fidgeting hands.

“Take that shit outside,” Jimin cut in, voice cold and hard. Darcy glared daggers in our direction. “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

Darcy opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the waitress coming back and demanding our party leave. Taehyung began to apologize profusely while Darcy stormed out of the restaurant, bumping into numerous people roughly without looking back. Jungkook was hot on her heels, breathing heavily, and eyes glossed over with unshed tears. She shouted that Jackson was outside and for Jungkook to go fuck himself. Jungkook didn’t reply but I knew he was not expecting the other man to be here. I sure the fuck wasn't.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders, “Hey, calm down. Breathe.”

I had not realized I had been holding my breath. Turning my head, I was taken aback by how close Jimin was. Our noses brushed together, his breath hot against my cheek, and I jerked away, heart racing. The butterflies were swarming now, and a shiver went down my spine. His arm dropped and I immediately missed its warmth. Flustered, I scooted out of the booth and kept my head hung low. I was so embarrassed, and I could hear Taehyung’s voice starting to wobble as he handed over some cash to the waitress for the trouble. No one was going home happy tonight.

“I’m so fucking pissed off,” Jimin grunted, keeping in step with me. Milo was attempting to get a now hysterical Taehyung calmed as they followed behind us. “I don’t know why Tae invites the two of them anywhere.”

I shook my head, “It’s not his fault. She needs to get some self-control, though. That was so rude and uncalled for, and for what?"

“They both owe him a fucking apology,” He sighed harshly.

The guests of honor were already in a very heated screaming match when we finally made it outside. Whatever had been brewing inside had clearly reached its peak, and neither one of them was willing to back down. Jimin’s arm was back around my shoulders as he tried his best to shelter me from the strong winds that were kicking up. Looking at Darcy and Jungkook all I could see were my parents and it caused me great discomfort. Maybe I should try to call my dad again and make sure he was alright? He rarely answered but at least it would cut some of the edge off of my anxiety.

“Why are you acting like this?” Jungkook shouted, pulling at his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”

“You!” Darcy shrieked. “You! You! YOU! You’re the problem. This is all your fault!”

Jungkook called her a crazy bitch and Darcy slapped him across the face before stomping off. A sleek red convertible was waiting for her on the curb, a well-groomed man behind the steering wheel. He smiled and waved at Jungkook before speeding off, Darcy already attaching her lips to his neck and not sparing any of us a second glance.

“What the fuck!” Taehyung shouted, sobbing and clinging to Milo.

I was surprised he was able to hold himself back for that long. He seemed hellbent on strangling Jungkook as soon as he was able. I stepped to the side watching a man I had never seen upset shove Jungkook backwards. Any resemblance of a smile was gone now, replaced with a snot-nosed, red eyed man with bared teeth. Jungkook stumbled, barely keeping his footing before shoving the other man back. Milo was quick to defend his fiancé, pushing Jungkook so hard he stumbled, fell on his ass, and cried out in pain.

Jimin’s arm gripped me tighter as he stared at the scene unfold in silence. His clenched jaw, however, told me how angry he was. I briefly wondered what he would be doing if he was not so focused on keeping me warm.

“That was so fucked up,” Taehyung cried, wiping his face roughly. “I told you both to keep that shit at home or don’t come!”

“She started it! It’s not my fault-”

“Dude,” Milo shook his head, wrapping his arms around Taehyung. “It doesn’t fucking matter. That’s your girl.”

As the three of them argued, I tried to decipher the look on Jimin’s face. He was angry, that was very apparent, and I felt my own anger finally start to rise. He had been dealing with so much shit and on his first night out in ages this happens? It was unfair and ridiculous, my frustration over the entire situation making me want to go over and push Jungkook around, too. However, I knew that was not the way to handle this. Truth was, he was not the only person to blame for how badly the night had ended. Darcy was the main instigator.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jimin, stepping away from his tight embrace. His arm was still around my shoulders with no sign of moving. “I’m sorry everything got so shitty.”

He nodded, face softening when he looked at me. “Just worried about Taehyung. He was really excited about tonight.”

The yelling was finally starting to calm down and I was happy that they were talking things out. I did not think I could handle the screaming for any longer. I had been a bundle of nerves since I left my house, and my fingers trembled at my sides. I could hear my mother’s voice echoing in my head, though I was positive it was distorted after so many years. Sometimes when her and dad fought, she would find me hiding in my closet and pull me out, hands leaving my skin tender from the harsh grip she had on my arms, before telling me to clean up the broken dishes from off the floor.

“Come here you little shit!”

She hated me; hated being a mother. I could remember how much I wished she would hold me like the other kids' moms held them but was too afraid to ask. One time I drew a picture of her at school and she never even looked at it. Instead, she smoked her cigarettes at the dinner table and watched Law and Order. If I really thought about it, she threw the drawing away. It was too dirty. Just like I was too dirty.

Mom had germaphobia and considered me one of the dirtiest things she had ever seen. I was not allowed in their bedroom because of it. Dad went along with it like he did everything else. When he wasn’t drinking, he was sleeping or in the garage. I hoped he was doing okay. Danielle seemed to be just as controlling as mom had been.

“Where’d you go?”

I startled, whipping around to find Jimin staring at me. His expression was gentle and calm, and I was suddenly aware of the harsh chill nipping at my wet cheeks. I had not noticed I was starting to cry. Strange. It had been a long time since those memories had been brought up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing my arm. “You looked lost.”

I nodded, quickly reaching up to pat the tears away. It was a good thing my mascara was smudge proof or else I might look even more pathetic. I am 31 now and it felt stupid to cry over things so far in the past. Things I had not had to deal with in well over 20 years. Dr.Wolfe would disagree with me, but she wasn't here.

“Yeah,” I nodded, voice thick. “Just zoned out for a second. Eyes must have dried out.”

It was a bad lie, but a lie he accepted. Squeezing my arm one last time, he finally moved away to give me a bit of breathing room. That was another thing that I always appreciated about the guy. He never overstayed his welcome, even if he wanted to. Taking a second to compose myself, I mindlessly fixed my hair and adjusted my clothes. Nervous habit.

“I think everyone’s heading home for the night,” Jimin said, nodding his head toward the other three men. “They seem cool. You ready to leave?”

I shrugged, “If you are.”

He nodded and walked over to the ground. I gave myself another moment to gather my thoughts. The worst of it was over and I doubted those memories would make themselves known again. With the screaming over it would not take long for my head to get itself straightened out. I might ask Jimin to drive us back, though. I was exhausted, and frankly, I did not think we would be safe if I was behind the wheel. Nothing worse than an anxious driver.

Jungkook was ashamed of their behavior tonight, and when I joined the others, he was quick to throw a million apologies in my direction. I accepted them all easily but knew it would take me a few days to fully forgive him. Tonight was a lot. Hopefully I could speak with Taehyung privately and ask him not to invite the couple out with us. If I never had to see Darcy again it would make my stay that much easier.

“I think we’re going to go home,” Milo said once Jungkook walked away. He was planning on calling an Uber so Tae could have a bit of space. “My little flower is burned out for the night.”

I smiled sadly, “Are you sure? We can always try something else.”

Taehyung’s head snapped in my direction and I wanted to scoop him up in my arms. His face was puffy from crying and eyes still misty. He was quick to nod his head and reached out to take hold of my hands.

“You still want to hang out with me?” He whimpered.

I had only said it to cheer him up not thinking that he would actually go for the idea. I had never seen him so distraught before and Milo seemed convinced that he was over having fun. Stealing a look at the blonde, he gave me a grateful smile but otherwise kept a watchful eye on Taehyung.

“Of course I do,” I finally replied, squeezing his large hands. “Tonight wasn’t your fault.”

His lower lip started to wobble again and next thing I knew I was in a very tight, warm hug. Taehyung cried into the crook of my neck. He was worried I would not like him anymore because of the fight. I awkwardly hugged him back, hoping my calm reassurances would soothe him. We really needed to get from outside the front of this restaurant before they called the cops.

“It’s alright,” I said, trying to gently remove his arms from my waist. “We’re still friends, I promise.”

After another minute of crying, Taehyung was back in Milo’s arms. His face was red, and his nose was running, but the sobs had stopped. Jimin placed a hand on my lower back and started to bounce a few ideas off of Milo. It was late, but from the sound of things, our get together was not over. I could not say for certain if this was a good thing or not, I did need to have that talk with Jimin. If we were out too late there was no way for me to promise I would not pass out in the car.

“Uh,” Jimin thought for a second. “If we’re still hungry there’s Pie Sci and Woodbridge is right down the street. There's also that park a few blocks away."

I shrugged, “Whatever’s the best?” Looking at Taehyung, I made sure that he was feeling well enough to hang out. “I won’t be upset if you want to go home. It was a rough night for all of us.”

He sniffled and nodded. “I’m just really tired.”

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple.

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him.

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening.

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Turning on the blinker, Jimin switched lanes smoothly. He was probably the best driver that I knew and always made sure to keep my little quirks in mind during our rides. He had even gotten used to leaving the radio off when I was around, something that I appreciated more than words could ever say. Recognizing that I was stalling, I cleared my throat and tried my best to get my jumbled thoughts across.

“As much as I would like to go on that date,” I started, voice weak, “I’m just a bit concerned with how that might affect our ability to work together.”

There we go, I thought to myself mentally patting myself on the back. That was not as hard as I thought it would be. Leaving out a few details would not hurt anybody, and it was the main cause of concern for me. My age was definitely up there, but I doubted Jimin would understand my perspective. To him I was just older, but to the rest of the world I was this cougar on the prowl for young men to help me relive my glory days. Even my own friends thought it was funny to make fun of the age gap.

“Is it only because of that?” Jimin pressed, his voice telling me that he was still reacting positively to whatever was coming out of my mouth. I was refusing to look at him, fearful that he would see through me. “Or is there something else bothering you?”

“W-w-well-” I stammered, “There is the media frenzy to think about. Sejin is already dealing with the press and your ‘out of character’ seclusion this season. Then there’s the age gap. I just-” I struggled to find the right words. Having let my insecurity slip out, I lost my flow and scrambled to get back on track. “Look, I haven’t done this whole dating thing in a really long time, and I don’t want that to get in the way of being a good coach. Ozzie put me in charge of you, and my reputation is on the line.”

I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Mouth dry and palms sweaty, I forced myself to look out of the window as I spoke. Anxiety had been something I dealt with for as long as I could remember, and it only got worse the older I got. My hands and fingers trembled in my lap as I tried to steady my breathing.

In all of the dreams I had about Jimin, and there had been quite a few at this point, this moment had never felt so real and raw. We were always in these picture perfect pieces of heaven, sunshine beaming down on us, and the words I desperately wanted to say fell from my lips with ease. It was simple and sweet, and yet profound and beautiful. I could wax poetics and put myself thoughts together so eloquently he had no choice but to say yes to me.

Reality was different. Here I was stumbling over my sentences and stuttering my way through words. Instead of taking his hand with mine, I was fidgeting with shaking fingers and desperately hoping he could not see just how uncomfortable I was. I knew he did. He always noticed. My heart was racing so fast I was afraid it would burst. Had he turned the heart up? It was boiling.

“I just want to know how you feel about me.”

“Hm?” I squeaked, unable to form any real words. My mouth was too dry.

“I’ve thought about all of the same shit,” Jimin continued, voice as smooth and calming as ever. “I don’t care about any of that. All I want to know is how you feel about me.”

“You know,” I replied, wheezing. Talking felt impossible. “You know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Taking in a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and began the mental countdown. My therapist taught me the technique years ago and I always found it to be helpful. I did this a few times until I felt calm enough to open my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded, finally feeling my heart rate slowing. “A little anxious.”

“Don’t be,” He placed a hand on my knee. “It’s just me.”

And he was right. It was just Jimin and I in my car, but that was also the reason I felt so suffocated. There was nowhere to run or hide in here, and if things went south I was stuck with him for half an hour. Trying not to let those pessimistic thoughts send me back into a panic, I began to mentally point out things in my car.

Air freshener. It's green. It smells like pine and lemons. I want a new scent. Jimin likes to buy this coconut and mango one that smells like candy. I will buy one like his. I love the smell.

I let out a heavy breath. Everything was fine. He was not upset. He just wanted to know how I felt about him. Nothing more nothing less. My heart was settling, and my fingers were no longer shaking.

“I like you,” I choked out, placing my hand over his. “But you already knew that.”

He gently laughed, flipping his hand up to intertwine our fingers.

“Yeah, you’re a terrible actress.”

I groaned, leaning my head against the window. As much as I tried kidding myself, there was absolutely no way he did not see the way I looked at him. I always knew when his flirting took on a more serious edge, like when he called me beautiful after seeing the scar on my leg for the first time, so it should not have been surprising that he picked up on a thing or two. Still, it did not make it any less embarrassing.

“How long have you known?” I asked, peeking at him through my lashes.

“I mean, I had a feeling when you first got to town, but I wasn’t completely sure until that first training day.”

He laughed at my embarrassed groan, holding my hand tighter. I knew I wasn't subtle enough. Poker face champion, my ass.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” He cooed. “You’ve been my dream girl since I was, like, 15.”

“That's not helping the age gap thing,” I tittered as I played with his fingers. Then, because I could not help myself. “Dream girl, huh?”

Picking up on the teasing tone in my voice, Jimin chortled.

“Okay, big head. Calm down.”

“Big head?” I guffawed, pulling my hand out of his grasp. “Who are you calling big head, shortstop?”

“You, big head,” Taking back my hand, Jimin pinned it down and kept a tight grip. “No take backs.”

I always loved it when Jimin was in a good mood. He was so playful and full of energy, and all signs of those dark days were in the deepest parts of his mind. It was impossible to keep myself from playing along which only served to egg him on.

“You never said yes or no.”

“Yes or no to what?” I questioned.

Jimin started rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

“To that date.”

Saying yes felt wrong, but saying no felt impossible. No matter what I said someone would be upset, and I had to decide who that would be: Jimin or America? I turned my own hand around this time and put my fingers through his. They fit together awkwardly, his hands just a bit too large, but I still found it perfect all the same.

“Do you have any ideas?”

His shiteating grin was contagious and a burst of butterflies began to flutter in my stomach. Hands clasped, Jimin started to list off all of the places we could go, but I was not fully listening. I had a date with this guy. I was going on a date with my trainee.

“What do you think?”

I blinked rapidly, hoping he could not tell that I had zoned out.

“You pick,” I breathed. “Surprise me.”

The rest of the drive back home was spent making small talk and discussing food preferences. Jimin was a dinner and a movie kind of guy, while I would rather do some sort of activity. What type of conversation could we have in a theater? Jimin seemed excited to plan out a fun night and I was just happy he was this into me. The feeling was most definitely mutual.

“Do you mind if I go to my house tonight? Mom needs some space and I know my dad is tired of having me breathing down their necks.”

I had yet to go over to his house. The days that we drove together were when he spent the evening with his parents. When Na-yeon and I talked about it, she was more upfront about her health situation than the men of the house. James spent most of his time taking care of his wife and their son enjoyed giving him a break every now and then. James would go on a fishing trip with his friends while Jimin stayed back to keep an eye on his mother.

“Is it closer to town?” I asked, nibbling on my lower lip.

I had yet to drive through downtown Ann Arbor. The Park house, and by proxy the Anderson’s, was a thirty minute drive from the bustling city. Nestled in the smaller town of Saline going towards Manchester, I had rarely had to leave the small town. This trip to Detroit was the farthest I had gone since arriving in Michigan, but I had a feeling the traffic in downtown Ann Arbor would be a bit much for me to drive through alone.

“Yeah,” I felt even more nervous by his nonchalant tone. “I used to live downtown, but I got tired of the noise. I bought my house in Eberwhite last summer, so there’s a little less foot traffic.”

“How’s the drive back to Saline?” Even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.

“Less than twenty,” Rubbing the back of my hand, his voice took on a sweeter tone. “We don’t have to. My truck’s at my parent’s place anyway.”

“Maybe some other time?” I forced myself to laugh, hoping to make the awkward tension leave. “Preferably when it’s not dark outside.”

I relaxed into my seat once I started seeing familiar landmarks. Saline was a very small town with a little over 2,000 residents, but downtown still had a way of attracting a relatively large crowd. Stoney Creek Brewery was packed and Jimin pointed out Sam’s car as we pass by.

“Looks like he came out with Otis and Skye,” He murmured.

Otis was another personal trainer at the gym, and Skye was responsible for marketing. They had been going out for a while now and made plan to move to Ann Arbor once Otis graduated from school. He was getting his masters in movement science at the University of Michigan. They had planned on moving out there when he graduated last year, but neither of them could find a job that could pay their bills. Otis was hoping the master’s would give him a competitive edge while Skye saved up enough money to start her own advertising firm.

“Think Gigi is with them?” I wondered.

“Probably not. She’s busy studying for an exam. I saw that she requested time off tomorrow and the day after, so I don’t think she has the time to go out for drinks.”

Giselle was getting her bachelor’s in dental hygiene at UM, and everytime I spoke to her she was swamped with work. I had no idea she needed to request time off, though. Must be an intense program.

“Did you ever go to college?” I asked Jimin.

He nodded, “I got my bachelor’s in psychology.”

Well, I had not been expecting that.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I never went back to get my master’s,” We turned onto the long road that led to his parent’s house. “I might after the Olympics.”

It was interesting to hear about his goals post-swimming. I never had those. My entire life was going to be swimming, and then, once I could no longer compete, I was opening my own swim school. After a couple of years of coaching under my belt, the plan was to start training professional athletes until I could join the Olympic coaching team. The accident was a very traumatic and eye-opening experience for me, so most of those plans ended up getting changed and modified over the years.

“What about you?” Jimin asked, pulling up to the curb.

“I went through an accelerated program at UCCS. Just graduated with my Masters in Athletic Training back in April.”

Neither one of us seemed to be ready to break the bubble we created. Even if we were just talking about school, it felt too intimate to leave. Holding hands in my car was new and I was worried if I opened the car door all of this would turn out to be a dream. The date, the confession; all of it.

“I should get going,” Jimin sighed, still not moving his hand from mine. “It’s late and I have to drive home.”

I was the first one to move away. He was right. It was almost midnight and I had a really difficult time tonight. All of that yelling really took a toll on me. Jimin did not move until he heard the click of my seatbelt unfastening.

“See you tomorrow?” He asked when I rounded the car. Getting out of the car, he held the door open as I slid inside. “I know we were out later than we thought we’d be.”

I nodded, “We can have a late morning. 8:30 instead of 6.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

He closed my car door and jogged to his truck. It was parked in the driveway today. I pressed the button to roll my window down.

“Drive safe!” I called out.

Looking over his shoulder, Jimin grinned and threw a hand up. I watched him climb into Fiona and tried to keep myself from worrying too much. It was so dark outside and he could be exhausted behind the wheel. Who knows what could happen to him.

He caught me staring and waved at me again. I returned it with a small smile. The truck stopped for a second and his phone was his hand. My cell phone vibrated in the cupholder.

Jimin: I’ll be okay

Jimin: Text you when I get home, k?

Looking back at the truck, I found him already looking at me. I nodded my response. He smiled at me again, waved, before finally backing out of the driveway. I did not move until I could no longer see his truck in my rearview. My phone buzzed one more time.

Jimin: At the stop sign on Woodland and Ann Arbor-Saline

Jimin: Go home. I’m here. I’m fine.

I hesitated texting him back when I knew he was driving, but decided that I would just have to trust he would not open it until it was safe.

Me: Get out of my head, kid

Finally putting my car in drive, I threw my phone back in its spot and made the ten minute drive down the road to the Anderson house. All of the lights were off when I pulled up and I was as quiet as a mouse walking to the backyard.

I was beyond tired but still needed to get my nighttime routine done. Stripping out of my clothes, I turned on the shower and took off my makeup. Tonight wasn’t a wash night, so I was not in the shower for long. I heard my phone vibrating as I put on lotion and I quickly threw on a night shirt and went to my bedroom.

Jimin: Who says you aren’t in mine, meemaw

Jimin: I’m home now so you can get some sleep

Jimin: Night, geezer

I snorted. That was a new one. Crawling into bed, I got comfortable under my blankets and thought about a good comeback.

Me: Thank you

Me: Geezer? That’s such an geriatric thing to say, you whippersnapper

Jimin: LOL night 🫰🏼

Me: Night 🌜

I quick sent Taehyung a text to make sure he and Milo go home safely before putting my phone on the charger. Jungkook sent a text to our group chat an hour ago to let us know he was in his apartment back in Detroit. He was in Ann Arbor so often since Darcy lived out here, but he had bought a multi-million dollar home in Corktown when was first signed to the Red Wings in 2019. Milo was the one to reply to my text, signing his name at the bottom, since Taehyung passed out in the car on their way back home.

I took my medications and started up a game of solitaire while I waited for them to kick in. My psychologist had sent me to Michigan with a three month supply. I was planning my first trip back next week so I could see the boys in time for their first big competition of the season. While I was in town, I would pick up another three month supply. We were making the arrangements work as best as we could, and I was lucky I had a large group of people willing to support me during this transition.

Finally I felt the sleeping pills kicking in and I went to my white noise app. I hated falling asleep in silence and Emery had suggested the app while we were in a session. I paid for a yearly subscription and never regretted the fifty bucks. It had been a huge help in lulling me to bed.

Lights out and blankets wrapped snugly around my body, I closed my eyes and thought about everything that had happened. Jimin liked me back, asked me on a date, and told all of his friends about his infatuation with me before I even realized something else was going on. I was his dream girl. That put a lazy smile on my face. Then, I could no longer think about anything and was plunged into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae @adventures-in-bookland

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 8 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 3

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: None really. Angst. Dean being a bit of an asshole. A brief, near sexual encounter. Smidge of fluff.

Word Count: 3,654

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 3. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

The next morning Dean was sitting at the table in his tent, listening to the camp waking up around him, when his tent flap opened and Cas strolled in. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, we gotta put up a piece of wood on the tent poles or something so people can knock.” He said in a surly and growly, early morning voice. When Cas didn’t respond, he challenged him with an even surlier tone. “What? Why are you here?”

Cas walked further into the tent. “I saw you gave Y/N back her daughter.” Dean raised his hand and then dropped it, conceding the point. “And,” Cas continued, raising his hand in the air and waving it slightly, “no more manacles.”

Dean spread his arms wide. “These are all things I already know, Cas; why are you telling me this?”

Cas shrugged slightly. “So, can I assume this means you no longer think she’s going to turn into a monster at any minute?”

Dean blew out a puff of air. “It means, she’s been here a week, and hasn’t turned yet. And since that isn’t really something that happens to people who get bit, I think I can be reasonably certain she won’t turn, randomly, out of the blue one day. And I gave her back her kid so she can look after her, and I can get Risa back as a soldier instead of a nanny.”

Cas wore a very enthusiastic expression as he moved closer. “Come on, even you have to admit that this is exciting.”

Dean arched a brow. “Exciting?”

Cas’ voice became awestruck. “Dean, this is the most hopeful sign we’ve had in…years!”

“Aw, don’t come at me with that hopeful bullshit!” Dean’s scowl and fierce countenance was immediate and slightly intimidating, even to the angel.

“Hope is nothing but a fucking lie, okay? We know it. We HOPED we could stop Lilith breaking seals and we didn’t, we HOPED we could stop the apocalypse, but we failed at that too. We HOPED we could save everyone, and well, we’re doing a pretty piss poor job of that, aren’t we? Every single time we go out on a raid, I hope we come back with the same number of people we left with, but it doesn’t happen very often, does it? We hoped -”

Dean cut himself short and swallowed hard, lowering his voice. “We hoped that Sam would be strong enough to say no, but…he wasn’t. I hoped I could save him. And-” He cut himself off again and rubbed a hand hard across his face.

“So just don’t come at me with ‘hopeful’.” Dean said, sneering the word.

He tapped his fingers against his chest. “Cause I gotta live in the reality of this situation. And look, if you wanna hide away from that reality, you wanna get blitzed and bombed every day, and pretend like you’re some kind of sexual guru, fuck around with dozens of girls, I don’t really give a shit. Okay? Do it. But I,” he banged his chest with his whole fist this time, “I have to live in the reality of our lives.”

Dean stood up and stepped closer to Cas, swinging his arm out sideways. “And the reality is I have no fucking clue why that woman hasn’t turned.” He shrugged dismissively. “Maybe the person who bit her wasn’t fully turned themselves, or maybe they didn’t fully break the skin so it didn’t take completely. Who knows. All I know is that she’s probably not gonna turn and so now we’ve got one more mouth to feed. Two, actually.” He said holding up two fingers. “And two more people draining our resources.”

He stepped back and turned away, giving Cas his profile. “That’s the reality. So you wanna join me in it, great. If not,” He turned his head to look at him, lifting his hand towards the entrance, “there’s the door. Or, you know, the tent flap.”

He dropped down onto the chair he’d vacated and rubbed a hand across his lips. He looked up when Cas spoke softly.

“I don’t wanna live in this reality, Dean. I just can’t anymore. So I choose hope, I choose to be hopeful that maybe she marks a change, maybe things can be different. I’m telling you, this reality isn’t the only option.”

Dean shook his head. “It’s my only option. I learned a long time ago, and you should’ve too - hope is dangerous. Reality can’t hurt you like hope can.”

Cas’ expression was discouraged and disappointed as he nodded, looking away from Dean. He said nothing more as he turned and walked away.

***

A little while after Cas left, Dean moved out to his campfire and cooked and ate his ration of eggs and potatoes. As he drank his coffee, he was actively trying to push the argument with Cas out of his head. He had a camp to lead, he didn't need this crap clouding his judgment.

It was ridiculous to think the woman represented some kind of new hope for mankind. He rolled his eyes at the very notion.

Still, he found himself calling out to Johnston as the soldier walked by. The man stopped abruptly and turned fearful eyes on Dean. It drove Dean a little crazy that after more than two years of Johnston serving the camp, of protecting it and helping to run the day-to-day work and activities there, he still seemed petrified of Dean.

I can't possibly be that scary, Dean thought with a deep scowl. Not like I've had him flogged for looking at me wrong or something.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fear radiating from the other man.

“You settled Y/N and her daughter?” He asked.

Johnston's blue eyes were slightly bulging and his prominent Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

Dean waited a minute for him to elaborate before prodding him gruffly. “And?”

The other man seemed at a loss and Dean snapped his fingers impatiently. “And where did you put them?”

Understanding finally lit in Johnston's eyes and he began nodding. “Oh, yes sir. I put them in the southwest corner. Fourth row, the tent on the end.” He seemed proud to get that much out. But then he raised a finger. “Oh, the tent is red.”

Dean nodded and waved at him. “As you were.”

Johnston saluted (even though Dean had told him a million times not to) and hurried on. Dean sighed deeply and without thinking about it too much, he headed in the direction of the red tent.

When he got there he shouted out a hello, feeling slightly foolish and vowing then and there to make it a project to put some kind of wood near tents’ openings so people could knock.

The flap opened and Y/N's face lit up with a beaming smile when she saw him. “Hi!”

Not knowing what to do with her enthusiasm, he just nodded. There was a slightly awkward moment and then Emma, her big blue eyes staring up at Dean, poked her head out from behind her mom, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around her hips and leaning her head into her side.

Y/N lifted her arm a little so Emma could shuffle out from behind her a bit more. She combed down Emma's slightly flyaway curls with her fingers and then settled her hand on the little girl's thin shoulders.

She gestured to Dean. “Say hi to Mr. Winchester.”

The little one just pressed closer and looked away from Dean to bury her face in her mother's side.

Y/N gave him a slightly chagrined look. “She isn't usually this shy.” She said by way of apology.

But Dean simply shook his head. Unlike Johnston, he understood all too well why this blue-eyed moppet was scared of him. She'd watched him nearly end her mother's life - not something she was ever likely to forget.

Dean hated that that realization came with a trace of guilt. Feeling very annoyed with himself, he straightened up and nodded curtly.

“Good.” He said succinctly, responding to nothing. “I just wanted to make sure you were settled properly.”

He turned in an abrupt about face and started walking away.

“Dean, wait!” Y/N called out to him. He turned back to see her wave Emma back into the tent and head towards him. When she reached him she wore her bright smile again, and he frowned deeper as a result.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

Dean said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to be a little nervous, fiddling with her hair. She finally clasped her hands in front of her and continued.

“So, I was talking to Eric?” She said as though it was a question. Dean did give her a puzzled look.

“Eric?” He asked.

Y/N had opened her mouth to continue talking, but then closed it and gave her head a shake, pointing to the side at nothing in particular.

“Eric Johnston? The…soldier that brought us to this tent and helped us set it up.”

Dean nodded in recognition. Yes, he remembered now, that was his first name. He never used it. “Right.” He waved her on.

“And I was asking about school for Emma, but he said there isn't one.”

Dean shook his head. “No, the parents, guardians, they look after that themselves.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, but I was thinking…well, I was a third grade teacher in the…before.” She thumbed behind her as though their former, normal lives were just right behind them, around the corner, instead of existing eons ago.

She shrugged. “So, I was thinking that maybe I could start a kind of school for the kids here. Eric figured there were about 35 or 40 of them. So I thought we could hold lessons somewhere outside most days, but if the weather's bad, maybe we could use the main cabin.”

Dean was scowling harder now, so she rushed on. “It would only be for a few hours a day. Wouldn't be anything spectacular, but it could help them with reading and math, and just some basics. Keep the kids' minds occupied and give their parents a couple of hours on their own.”

She shrugged. “It's nothing much, but it might help people feel a little more hopeful about the future.” She finished with another bright smile.

Dean felt his ire rise with that word again - hopeful. This woman was going to upset everything, tip the precarious balance of the camp on its head.

He shook his head angrily. “We don't do shit like that. This isn't a fucking gated community, okay? These are survivors who get by together. That's it.”

Y/N's eyes were so earnest it almost hurt to look at her. “But, don't you see, it could be a community. Not gated, but open. We could do more for each other than just survive.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if you're unhappy with being here, we can happily help you on your way.”

Y/N raised her hands. “No, of course not, that's not what-”

Dean cut her off with a cold, hard voice. “And you can't teach kids like this.” He waved a hand towards the red rings encircling her irises. “You'd scare the shit outta them. Take one look at you and freak out, thinking you're gonna turn into a monster any minute.”

That pulled Y/N up short and Dean could see by her slight flinch that his words had hit home. She was quiet a minute and her smile was dimmed as she nodded.

“Right. That's…no, you're right.” She gave an imitation of a chuckle. “There aren't many mirrors around, so I…sometimes I forget about…” she gestured to her eyes.

She shook her head. “I was just trying to find a way to be helpful, you know.” She shrugged. “But yeah…” She trailed off and Dean felt a sick gnawing sensation in his stomach as she gave a final dull smile.

“Okay, well thanks.” She said as she turned away. Though what she could have possibly been thanking him for, he had no idea.

He thought about Cas’ disappointed expression, and Y/N's bent smile and he gritted his teeth. This morning was not going well for him.

The day didn’t get much better from there. He spent most of it planning their next raid for canned goods. They were running low, and it was September already. Over the next couple of months they’d have to make sure they had whatever they needed for the winter. Once the snow hit, the winter roads were sometimes impassable for weeks at a time.

They were having to go further and further out from the camp to find supplies. The area was becoming picked clean. There were four or five other, smaller, groups of survivors within about a hundred square miles of their camp. For the most part they all rubbed along together alright, pretty much just leaving a big buffer of space between the camps, and leaving each other alone.

However, Dean was starting to worry about what would happen now that resources and supplies around them were starting to run out. In this last year, they’d started having to drive hours and hours away from camp to find un-ransacked grocery stores and restaurants in the abandoned cities. They could manage it because of their size, but some of the smaller groups had very few working vehicles, making it harder for them to travel. Dean worried what would happen when they got desperate.

He wanted to be ready for winter.

So, he tried to spend the day planning the best route to hit as many cities as they could without hitting too many known Croat hives, or cleaned out cities. But he kept getting interrupted by his soldiers. The concerns of the camp were unending, and sometimes felt completely overwhelming.

The morning kept being interrupted by issues and grievances his soldiers brought him from some of the camp inhabitants. He tried to put out as many fires as he could, while continuing to plan the raid.

Then he ended up spending far too much of the afternoon talking about drainage and irrigation with the young guy who used to be an engineering student, and an old farmer who’d spent his whole life in the fields. The two very different men were teaming up to try and see about making bigger winter crop plots this year. They’d grown some winter vegetables last fall and winter, and even that small amount of fresh food had made a big difference in the health of the campers. So this year they were hoping for more.

Finally the men went off to plan some more and Dean folded up his maps. He hadn’t made much headway into the raid route, but the light was getting low; he’d have to come back to it. He fried up some spam and a few of the cooked, frozen potatoes they’d put up in the spring and sat beside his fire for a while before tossing water on it and going inside his tent. He lit a lantern and started to try and look at the maps again, but he was interrupted by Risa.

Dean lifted his chin towards her by way of greeting. She came forward and dropped a small piece of machinery on his table. “Here’s the piston for that Ford we towed back last week.” She said, referring to the truck they’d found abandoned on the side of the road with no owners in sight. “Should work.”

Dean nodded. “Great.”

Risa lingered a moment and then walked closer to him. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine.”

She moved forward to stand between his legs and then reached out to run her hands over his cheeks and down his neck. She bent over and pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

“I miss you.” She said, her voice softer and more intimate than it ever was when they were soldier and commander. “You haven’t been to see me in weeks.”

“Sorry.” Dean said gruffly and then let her kiss him again, kissing her back for a moment before pulling away.

Not willing to give up, Risa straddled his outstretched thighs and reached for his zipper. “It’s okay, I bet I can find ways to entice you back.” She said, dark brown eyes flashing with heat.

But Dean grabbed her hands and pulled them away. He kissed her briefly to try and ease the sting of his rejection. “Sorry, not tonight.” He nodded towards the maps on his table. “I’ve got shit I gotta finish.”

Risa bit into her lip, looking down at their hands entwined in his lap, and then nodding before she stood up. She lifted her mouth in a smile. “Yeah, sure. ‘Kay.” She nodded again and pointed to the piston as she left. “Let me know if that works.”

Dean sighed as his tent flap fell back into place. And that was the third person he’d disappointed today. Without his permission Y/N’s face floated into his mind. Despite what he’d said to her, he couldn’t deny how beautiful that face actually was. The red pigment in her eyes made no difference to that beauty.

He couldn’t erase the image of her crestfallen expression when he told her she’d scare the kids. That was complete bullshit and he knew it. Five seconds in her shiny presence and the kids would be eating out of her hand.

He growled slightly as he could feel himself caving. But would it really be so bad to let her teach the kids somewhere? They’d have to stay out of the way, and she’d have to keep them all quiet when they were together in a mob. But it might actually free their parents up for more of the endless tasks it took to maintain the camp.

If he let her do it, he’d have to make sure she knew he was only saying yes so that they could have the kids out of the way for a while. This wasn’t some hopeful mission for the future. It was just a practical solution for improving the camp.

He nodded. Yeah, I'll tell her tomorrow.

But even as he though it, he got up and walked out of his tent, moving towards the southwest corner of the camp. Within a couple minutes he was standing in front of the red tent and again found himself clearing his throat and embarrassingly calling out a hello, like he was the Avon lady.

Y/N poked her head out of the tent and smiled. But she lowered her eyes a little and wouldn’t look directly at him. He wanted to punch himself.

“Hi.” She said softly, and then stepped out of the tent into the cool, late evening breeze. She waved towards the tent. “Emma’s sleeping.”

He nodded. She rubbed her arms and he frowned. “Didn’t they give you a jacket?” Then he noticed she was still wearing the grubby clothes she’d been wearing when she came. “And clean clothes?”

Y/N nodded and even in the dusky twilight Dean could see her blush. “Yes, but I realized…I’m all dirty.” She shrugged. “Nothing but basin baths for weeks. I’d like to get cleaner before I put on the clean clothes. One of your soldiers said there was a place where people went to bathe nearby. But he didn’t have time to take me.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, there’s a river about four miles south of camp. It does the trick. I’ll take you tomorrow.”

He scowled; he didn’t know where that offer had come from. He could have had one of his soldiers, or any other camper really, take her out to the river. But he didn’t rescind the offer and Y/N nodded happily.

“That would be wonderful.” She said rapturously.

Dean nodded curtly again. “Yeah. And uh…you can do the school.” Y/N looked directly at him now and her face was surprised, but clearly thrilled.

“Really?”

He nodded and scowled. “Yeah, the kids'll get over it." He said with a nod to her red eyes. "But just make sure you all stay out of the way of the work in the camp. And let the parents know we’ll have some work for them during the hours their kids are gone. We can use the extra hands.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help out where they can.”

Impulsively it seemed, she threw her arms around him, squeezing his arms tight to his sides as she hugged him. Shock coursed through him and he didn’t know how to move. Thankfully it was a brief hug and she was soon pulling away.

“Thank you so much, Dean. I’m so excited. I think it’s going to make a real difference. Just wait.”

As she bid him goodnight and bounced back into her tent, he shook his head, frowning deeply.

Fuck, he thought, everything is too different already.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series #spn fan fic #endverse

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hajiimes · 1 year

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purple hydrangeas

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, hanahaki au warnings: mentions of blood, surgery, and hospitals word count: 1.4k author's note: if this looks familiar at all that's cuz it's a repost from my previous blog (also hajiimes) from like 2-3 years ago lolol !! i revamped it and am reposting it here :D i'm sorry i was gone for so long it's been a wild time lol

masterlist

There’s a tickle in your throat and pain in your lungs. It’s been there for quite a while, so long that you’ve already forgotten what it felt like without the petals clogging up your lungs. You look at him, so unreadable, so unreachable . No one had told you that falling in love would hurt so much.

It’s silly, you tell yourself. Childish. Dumb. Foolish. First love, a deadly fate.

Suna Rintarou sits to your left in school and you cast glances at him whenever you’re sure that he’s paying more attention to doodling in his notebook than you. In your observations, you learn that Suna Rintarou dog-ears the pages of his textbooks to save his spot. You learn that he chews on the eraser at the end of his pencil when he thinks, leaving small indents in it when he pulls away to write. You learn that more often than not, Suna spends class time drumming his fingers on his desk, idly staring out the window instead of paying attention to the board.

Suna isn’t the type to forget any pens or pencils, but he always forgets to bring extra paper. You couldn’t count the number of times he’d leaned over the aisle separating the two of you to ask for a sheet of paper, to which you’d happily obliged every time—always willing to lend a helping hand. Those reluctant smiles he sent you out of gratitude always seemed to brighten your day.

Honestly, it’s no surprise that you developed Hanahaki.

He makes small jokes under his breath about classwork, little quips he doesn’t think anyone can hear. He offers you a pen whenever you forget one, accompanied with a small note stating ‘Give it back when you’re done’ wrapped around it. You end up keeping those notes, stuffing them between spare pages of your textbooks and notebooks.

Suna is a boy of few words, but when he speaks you find yourself hooked on every one of them. Your friends call it puppy love. They call it a little kid’s crush. They tell you that in a month you’ll forget all about it and move on to some other guy.

You don’t tell them that you probably won’t make it another month.

The coughing fits become more and more frequent, each one right after the other. They get worse during school, during those hours when you’re near him. Purple petals litter your desk and pile into your hands, but you just discard them into your school bag with reckless abandon.

Your friends approach you to ask if you’re okay. An easy, practiced smile stretches across your face and you wave them off like nothing is wrong. You tell them as much, you just have bad allergies! Nobody mentions that it’s not allergy season. You think it’s either out of mercy or pity that they leave you alone after that.

Sometimes you think you can see Suna looking at you during class when you’re trying to discretely spit petals in cupped hands, but you always brush it off as a trick of the light. You think you can feel his eyes on you when you’re talking to your friends, watching as you carefully place your hands over the stray petals you forgot to brush off the desk. You smile and wave off your friends’ concerns like you always do.

He never speaks up, never says anything about how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Suna goes on with his life like nothing is wrong, pretending he doesn’t see you cough up purple petals into your hands out of the corner of his eye during third-period math. He pretends that he doesn’t see you each day in his peripherals, too preoccupied with your own impending demise to worry about the functions written out on the whiteboard.

Even though things have changed so drastically for you, Suna stays the same.

You learn that he mumbles out the words when he’s reading something. You learns that he bounces his leg underneath the desk when you’re taking a test. You learns that he’s quiet, but that doesn’t mean he’s shy. When his friend—Miya Osamu, from the volleyball team—is around, he’s much more talkative than usual. You learn that he drops his bag on his desk loudly every day to wake himself up in the morning, the slamming of the books in the bag waking you up in turn.

It’s cruel, you think to yourself in those selfish moments you allow yourself to consider him between the last toll of the school bell and the beginning of club activities, watching as Suna packs his schoolbag and slings it carelessly over his shoulder. He spares you one single glance, his lips a flat line as he makes a beeline past his peers lingering at their desks and heads out the classroom door. You watch Suna walk away like he always does, sparing you a single merciful glance as you dump the last of the school day’s purple hydrangeas into the trash. It’s cruel that he doesn’t know the effect he has on you.

It’s getting worse.

Your parents beg you to tell them who it is, and how they can stop it from happening. They offer to switch your school, to pull you from club activities, to move prefectures if it helps. Your mom begs you to consider surgery; she pleads that you’re too young to die like this. You don’t care—you would rather die in love than live without it.

Each day you live with the disease is a day your body grows weaker and weaker. Your body runs cold and your head feels heavy every moment you has to hold it up. Your teachers, luckily, are merciful. They don’t say anything when you rest your head in class—they know your situation all too well. You can feel the pitying glances they send you during breaks and passing periods, their stares burning into the back of your head.

It comes upon you suddenly, like a summer storm, during history class. Bile and flowers rest in your throat and, without a word, you excuse youself to the bathroom—just barely making it there in time.

Flowers bloom in your lungs, growing more and more until the petals fill your throat and spill out of your mouth. It hurts, you want to scream out, It hurts so much, but when you opens your mouth to speak, petals fall out in red, bloody clumps in lieu of words. You clutch at your throat and squeeze, hard, in a futile attempt to force the flowers out.

It doesn’t work.

They find you in the second-floor school bathroom three minutes later. Petals surround you like a halo and, if it weren’t for the blood on your lips and the odd placement, one might think it’s some sort of art project.

You remember what happened in flashes. You’re rushed to the hospital. The doctors call your parents. You’re rushed into the operating room. You fall asleep, Suna’s name on his lips.

The flowers inside of your lungs are gone when you wakes, but a dull throbbing sits in their place. There are no flowers in the hospital room, no bouquets—something you find yourself grateful for. It’s funny somehow, the caution in which the people around you treat those silly little blossoms. It’s almost laughable, the way your family acts like you’ll break at the mere sight of a petal. Like you’re fragile.

It’s not long before you’re cleared to return to school, cleared to return to your fifth-row seat. People crowd you before class, each one asking if you’re okay, how the surgery was, and what it was like to have the disease. You wave them off with an easy smile, only saying that you’re glad to be back.

There’s a boy who sits to your left. He holds his pencil tightly in his hand, plump pink lips wrapped around the end as he chews lightly on the eraser. His leg bounces with deep-rooted anxiety whenever you glance over at him.

In the transition between second and third period, he passes a note with the words ‘Welcome Back’ written on it in hurried chicken scratch. You think it’s meant to be a joke.

When you look up at the boy, you finally notice that his gray-brown eyes are watching you. You raise your eyebrows, watching as the corners of his lips turn upwards—an offering of the smallest of smiles. This classmate is familiar somehow, a creeping presence in the back of your mind. A gap in memory that should be filled, a cavity in your heart. You know that you’ve met before—it’s obvious in the way he’s looking at you.

For some reason, you can’t remember his name.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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spnfanficpond · 9 months

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November/December 2023 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Five-Finger Discount by @talltalesandbedtimestories

This story is so smartly written - so many fantastic descriptions and lines of dialogue and it flows so beautifully. I didn’t want it to end. If you don't already have an obsession with Dean's hands, you will by the end of this fic.

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Nominated by @annahmiraculousmillenium

A New Form by Kenophobia (AO3)

I'm nominating this story because it introduced me to a new tag I really like now: "Shapeshifter Dean" Sam is bossy (and Dean actually obeys!) Bobby is in there! John dies! And other cool things I don't want to spoil. Also, it's gen.

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Nominated by @glygriffe

Said the Salmon to the Sea by @bendingsignpost

A mesmerizing (or mermaid-rising?) Dean-centric story about change, about the fact that it comes whether we want it to or not, and how the heck we deal with it. “If this is as far as we can go, it’s as far as we can go,” Dean says with a heavy shrug. Slowly, Sam says, “It’s as far as I can go.” “Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

The Angel of Emetgis V by Kayliemanlinza (AO3)

I read this as part of the Dean/Cas Reversebang 2022 (with beautiful art by @missaceriee) and the concept of true-form Castiel as an alien meeting "grease-monkey" Dean in deep space is compelling as much as how love is expressed between species. (Here is the original DCRB post that made me discover the story)

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Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Unlikely by @apocalypseornaw

This story was written for me for the Secret Santa hosted on the Pond. It's a lovely fic with Ketch/GN!Reader, something there kind of is a lack of (both with GN and Male reader inserts). And like, also with Ketch lol it was a really nice pick-me-up as I'm not having the best of times right now, and it made me read an author I didn't know before, so it's a win-win Situation!

Follow That Car! by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD (AO3)

A really nice, short Ketch/Dean story with a side of murder. "I wish to fuck you, Dean" is forever embedded in my brain.

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Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Spotless by @stusbunker

This is a Dean x reader AU with SO MUCH DELICIOUS PINING!!!! And now Bela's involved! And the reader gets to watch Dean and Bela make heart eyes at each other!! SO MUCH YUMMY ANGST!!!

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Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

Care and Feeding by foolishgames (AO3)

Sam is somehow turned into a cat. The best stories are the first and last ones if you are not an S/D reader, then can be read as mostly Gen.

Dissecting the Bird by nigeltde (AO3)

♥♥♥ Just right.

The Witch and the Wolfen by meus_venator (AO3)

I love everything about this story- meus has an amazing talent and this is one I reread often- plus, it just got a second story!

Sounds Like Truth Feels Like Courage by Sprinkle888 (AO3)

Well-written SPN story. Gen, no pairing, but it doesn’t need one. Sam binds them together with some MoL magic rings and finding out how they work is a riot. Some angst, temp character death, but ends happily. 10/10 recommend. Also posted on my Tumblr.

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Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Slither by Tiamatv (AO3)

I absolutely love this story! The show of cultural differences between Dean and Castiel that even the reader will miss the cues. Lol! The conversation about sex was hilarious especially since Dean doesn’t ask. 😂 Wait until you read the word “clasp”. Poor Dean. Look up the word: hemipene. This stems all the hilarity in the fic. Just wait. Just wait. It’s hilarious!! SPOILER: Castiel is a naga refugee that is half human and half beautiful snake, and Sam basically “adopted” him as a charity project that turns into Dean’s charity project that ends up making him very happy very quickly.

Rubber Duckie Boots by Hexentaenzerin (AO3)

This such an adorable meet-cute. I love it! I also love that Dean wears rubber duckie boots while videoing carpet cleaning videos for his business, which Castiel absolutely loves to watch. Just can’t get enough of seeing Dean in those boots. Castiel even buys a rug to try to get Dean to notice him. **squee** It’s great! The ending is so Dean and Castiel. ❤️❤️❤️

Weighted by Tiamatv and amireal (AO3)

I absolutely love this fic because I actually sleep with a weighted blanket and when my kids are sick, they love their own. I even have one in the car. It’s light but enough to feel it. This is just so fluffy and romantic all thanks to our favorite redhead introducing weighted blankets which helps so much. It’s been shown to even help babies but blankets aren’t great for them. Anyway, they’re so cute and that scene where Dean opens his eyes all slow and gentle with “hey”, just broke me. My husband and I do that periodically and it just means more snuggles and sleep. lol. Poor Castiel thinking he couldn’t have Dean which I understand since Dean has said so much he is straight or implied it rather often. Ugh. This was done so well. I admit I wish there was more especially with Dean exploring this new aspect of himself and with Castiel. Curious to see what their bumps in the road are and how they handle it.

Close Encounter of the Fourth Kind by Fathersalmon (AO3)

First, this is smut. Second. It is fucking hilarious! I rarely find crack in smut. You have to read this hilarity. Dean’s sassy mouth is just amazing in this while Castiel just ignores him. 🤣 If you want to laugh, read this!

Firelight Glow by bleuzombie (AO3)

I just love how it progresses and the ending is great though. It’s so sweet and fluffy. Their connection is so tangible the reader can feel it like the characters do. It also has Trans Dean Winchester, which I always love to read, especially by @bleuzombie who knows how to write them so authentically and truthfully.

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Nominated by @spencereliotwinchester

Stray Hearts by blujay44 (AO3)

It's definitely a weird one, but I really like how fluffy it is. Really, though, it's weird... but it's a feel-good one, especially when Jensen comforts Jared.

Pastiche (orphaned work on AO3)

This is literally one of my favorite SPN fics ever. I reread it a lot. Features Autistic!Jensen and loveable goldenretriever Jared who just wants to get to know his neighbor.

Flash by ellia (AO3)

Short, sweet, almost possessive... Also features my two favorite boys: Jensen and Christian.

For the Taking by veronamay (AO3)

Steamy, sexy, bdsm, Jared and Jensen. What more could you ask for??

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Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

House of the Rising Son by @kittenofdoomage

I really love the idea of Sam and Dean being the bad guys! The story as a whole is so goood!

Blood and Honey by @kittenofdoomage

Dark!Winchesters are my favorite kind of tropes! This is such a great story, very well written!

Baklavas For Your Birthday by @cloverhighfive

This is very cute!!!

Muddy Soul by @impala-dreamer

This is so good! Its very dark at times and you absolutely need to mind the tags! But this is such a great series!

Strangers by @smellingofpoetry

Very cute story!! I liked it!!!

I am my beloved’s and my beloved’s mine by @heavenssexiestangel

Very cute! Very fluffy!!!! I liked it!!!!

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester, and @heavenssexiestangel!

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not-poignant · 10 months

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Stain is such a great story, Alex and Sebastian have made so much progress understanding each other, and I'm excited for their relationship to continue to develop (not just physically... but okay really excited for that too!!)

Wondering what gave you the inspiration and what you like most about the Alex/Sebastian pairing, or any other thoughts about Stardew Valley as a fandom you want to share!

Honestly the thing that inspired me the most was just playing the game! :D

I have nearly 1800 hours in Stardew Valley, and that's like...what I would call a few hours to just daydream about all the characters. And me being the multi-shipping fiend that I am, I do also just like to imagine all the characters in relationships with each other.

I'm not someone who really cares about my farmer (or PC) in the central romance, which is why I don't write this in video games that have you as a player character! I didn't do that for Stuck on the Puzzle, or The Wind that Cuts the Night, or Palmarosa. I don't actually care as much about whoever I'm romancing, I care more about what relationships can happen between other characters.

And I think because I daydream about that, rather than my farmer character (or me) with the NPCs, that gives me like a lot of time to think of different things.

I started daydreaming about Sebastian as a top several years ago, he had that energy to me even like 2 years before I romanced him (the amount of times I've romanced Alex is criminal at this point). I sometimes imagined him with like Sam, but mostly Alex. I also imagined him being good goth literature friends with Elliott lol

Even in The Wind that Cuts the Night I have Sebastian as a top with the farmer :D

I don't actually get that involved with the fandom in general. I've tried a few times, and some of the fanart is incredible (and the MODS omg), but I've never really loved any of the SDV fic that I've read (or more accurately: skimmed). I don't like farmer/NPC pairings. The vast majority of people wrote Sebastian as a bottom (or a fluffy vanilla top which is somehow worse) in m/m like 4-5 years ago and I'm too tired to check how much that's changed.

Alex actually gets a lot of hate in the fandom - at least amongst most of the queer players - and seeing a character who is a victim of child abuse treated like that just kind of left me with a bad taste in my mouth (it seemed to be based around Alex's initial rudeness, which doesn't last nearly as long as Shane's, who was hero-worshipped long before he got his whole storyline, because he wasn't romanceable for years).

So I really avoid the fandom, and I couldn't tell you who's writing the most popular fics or the most popular pairings or anything like that. I don't look into the tags, and almost all the fanart I've ever shared here or at @capillata has been shared to me by someone else first.

So yeah the answer is mostly just that I daydream a lot and I've had many many hours to do it in! :D

I like Alex/Sebastian as a pairing mostly because I've always just liked troped opposites in enemies to lovers. The jock vs. the goth nerd has been a long-term media troped opposition romance pairing, and even outside of romances, is often shown as 'oppositional.' Many people even have memories of that in their school experience.

To me, the idea that Alex is always shown as completely alone (sans Haley or grandparents), and that Sebastian is nearly always shown with friends when he's not being like... deeply moody in a goth way, was really fascinating to me. ConcernedApe was already working hard to say 'this isn't what you think it is' even within the game. Alex is the one who apologises to you for being so desperate and also unrealistic about his sporting/goth abilities. Sebastian is the one who already has a job and is incredibly social - he's in a band that regularly practices and even performs outside of his hometown, he regularly plays TTRPGs with friends, and he regularly goes to the bar and plays pool and hangs out with friends. He's not a 'loner nerd.' He is hands down the most popular and social person in Stardew Valley who you can romance, outside of Sam, who is the same amount of popular. Like, Sebastian is literally a socialite social butterfly who is successful and charismatic and rides a motorbike. Subversion pretty fucking successful on that trope :D

To me, the game gives us the set up to a bullies-to-lovers scenario just by giving us the trope, and then subverting the trope. I always kind of liked that, but could never imagine writing it, until I aged them up and had Sebastian and Alex both mentally kind of growing up a little.

All right that's enough rambling from me! It's time to make lunch. But yeah, that's basically sadlfkjas er the sum of it (I say after rambling for ages)

#asks and answers #personal #a stain that won't dissolve #thespectaclesofthor #the long and short of it is really 'the game and daydreaming about the game'#that's usually where most of my game-inspired fics come from dsalfkjasd #i am very pedestrian that way

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fangbangerghoul · 10 months

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Snippet Sunday

Thanks @eridanidreams I appreciate your tag! If you see this you are tagged!

I have some words I can share but I have been writing a lot of random stuff lately.

I finally have an organized idea in my head for Fleeting Pleasures but I am allowing myself some time before I finish the story. So soon!

(Plus I have been enjoying focusing on personal stories I do not have to publish lol)

MDNI, 18 +

The lights that strobed around her were different variations of blue, purple, pink and green. They flashed with the rhythm that the DJ had set up for the club that night and the patrons danced around in the middle of the large dance floor. Some in groups, some in pairs, some alone feeling their own sweaty skin and the beats that guided the way their body moved. Ghoul sat at the bar sipping on her third fruity drink for the night. It was hardly any liquor in them but the flavors were fun enough to keep her buying them. She was still waiting for her companion to come back from the bathroom so they could finish this impromptu meeting with the Neon Rangers.

“Would you like another?” The perky bartender asked as she wiped down the counter in front of Ghoul. Ghoul let her eyes trace the waitress’s body freely as the waitress stretched herself over the counter to reach things. Her tight black dress displayed her breasts so well, making it look like they were about to spill out and the fabric clung to her curves tightly while allowing the bottom of her round ass to peek out occasionally. Ghoul knew she probably dressed that way either because the Astral Lounge had demanded it of her or because she knew it would allow for more tips but either way she appreciated the effort the bartender put into it.

“Only, if you bring it back to me this time.” Ghoul was trying to be smooth with her, maybe it was the drinks catching up or the smell of pheromones and aurora in the club. All she knew was she wanted a glass of whatever this woman was poured of. The waitress gave her the usual smile and as she reached to grab Ghoul’s empty glass, Ghoul softly reached out and stopped her hand. She had a stick of 200 credits in the palm that she handed the waitress.

“My friend has appeared to have gotten lost and I wouldn’t mind some extra company tonight. I promise I don’t bite.” A weary expression appeared on the waitress’ face at first but when she saw the amount of the credits that weariness seemed to be persuaded away. The woman’s demeanor changed and she started to pick up what Ghoul was putting down.

“I don’t know how my boss would feel about ignoring my duties tonight but I might be able to get out of it.” The woman then lightly traced her finger on Ghoul’s hand before spinning away to go get her another and clear her schedule for the night. Ghoul watched her leave and as if the waitress knew she slowly rocked her hips side to side as she walked away, possibly earning more credits out of Ghoul’s pocket that night.

The music rocked the bar and it seemed like tonight was going to be a bit more freelance than anticipated. Ghoul could only assume Sam was outside of the club still trying to get away from the scene and a part of her respected it even if she had every intention of participating in it. The waitress finally came back with her drink but this time instead of placing it on the counter and walking away she leaned her back side onto Ghoul and made herself comfortable. Ghoul wasted no time to gently place her hands on the woman’s hips and as she brought her lips to her ears, she made sure to release a soft warm breath that would run down her neck.

“Welcome back. I am already feeling myself becoming less-.” Ghoul’s hands greedily ran up the sides of her curves and back down to her lovely thighs. “Lonely. Do I get a name for tonight or should I make one up?” She watched as the now off duty waitress responded to the touch of her hands.

“Rosalia.” She responded to Ghoul as she turned her head to look back at her. The two of them were extremely close now and Ghoul was ready to let their bodies connect more.

“Well, Rosalia, let’s go dance.” Ghoul hopped off of her bar stool in a way that wouldn’t have pushed Rosalia too much and lifted her hand to twirl her. One of the few ways to enchant a woman, Ghoul had learned, was to bring them an experience that was unique to who she was, or pretended to be in that moment. Tonight, Rosalia was going to receive charm but also greedy passion and from what Ghoul could tell as she watched her work around the bar tonight the woman craved to be longed for. She led Rosalia towards the dance floor where the crowd was the thickest. The bodies around them forced them to be as close to possible to one another but that was no issue for Ghoul. She let Rosalia take the lead at first to become accustomed to her body grinding against hers before she took over with her hands and soon her mouth. The dips Rosalia would do against Ghoul were always rewarded with a slight smack on the ass or a nip on her ear. She didn’t have to say a word but direct the beautiful girl’s hands where she wanted them to be. The dancing felt everlasting but, in a way, where time stopped still. Ghoul’s own neediness was starting to show while she groped Rosalina’s breasts as if her hands wanted to consume them and the way her hips bucked in sync with her dance partners. The flame of lust was boiling in her veins and a part of her was willing to take her right on the dance floor in front of all the other patrons but she knew Rosalia would object unfortunately. So she stuck with teasing, squeezes on the thighs, hands sneaking up the sides of her dress and cupping her ass, bite marks when Rosalia’s back fell into her. “Are you ready to find a room yet or do we need more time?” Ghoul whispered in a sultry tone while her hands found themselves up the side’s of Rosalia’s dress.

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #sam coe #snippet sunday #ghoul vibes only

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welightthefire · 2 years

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Thank you for tagging me @streamingcolors-gvf 😘

I think it might be fun to look back on what we’ve all achieved this year, let you give yourselves a well deserved pat on the back and also share what you love. When you’re done maybe tag someone else so they can share too?

1. How do you feel 2022 has gone in terms of writing?

Ohh boy. I feel like in the beginning of the year, I hit the ground running. I had a lot of ideas and motivation, passion even, and was putting out my best work. Throughout the summer, mostly near the end, I started to lose steam and imagination and that’s something I’m struggling to navigate through right now. I’m hoping 2023 brings a refreshing bit of inspiration that I can really work with.

2. What pieces are you proudest of this year? It can be a shot/blurb/headcannon, a whole series or even a specific chapter.

Table For Two, without a shadow of a doubt. It was an idea that I came up with last November and sat on for quite awhile. I knew it was going to be a huge project and I wanted to collaborate with someone on it. I’m not the most sociable on here, so I mostly just posted my other writings for awhile and then the most beautiful soul showed up outta nowhere in April and not only did she quickly become one of my absolute best friends, she became the best co-author I could ever ask for to help me bring this idea to fruition.

3. Is there anything you posted that you wish had reached more people? (No such thing as a flop here!) Shout it out, it might catch a new pair of eyes!

Again, Table For Two. I have so much love for the group of readers following along in the adventures of the twins and Syd (and poor Sam), but it’s something that I am so incredibly proud of that I simply want everyone to read it.

4. Can you give us a hint of anything coming before the end of the year? Maybe even a little taster?

You’ll definitely get an update or two from @allieboop and I for TFT, maybe even the end of the series!! I’m also working on a Danny x reader blurb that will be out in the next week or so and a little secret something else, but I can’t say much of anything about it. 🤫

5. Are you setting any writing goals for next year, or just going with the flow? If you are, what are they?

I’m hoping to build my masterlist more. I have some works already in progress which you’ll see on the pinned post on my page, however they won’t be posted until late-winter/spring.

6. Do you have any one shots or finished pieces you're tempted to expand on or revisit next year?

Teach Me Tonight will be getting a part two once TFT is wrapped up and I get some of these other works out. There are some other things floating up in the air, but we’ll just have to see how things turn out first.

7. Is there anything new you're tempted to try out? A new style/trope/AU/another person in the fandom?

I would really love to try my hand at an enemies to lovers trope!! I’m such a sucker for angst when it comes to reading, however, I do find myself struggling to write it sometimes. I have such a fluffy soul lol

8. Now to hype some other writers! What's a piece you read back in the first half of the year that you can shout out?

Amongst The Stars by @samkiszkasfacialhair hands down. It was posted on my birthday this year and to this day, it is the most gut-wrenching piece yet stands as my favorite thing I’ve ever read on this hellsite.

9. And how about something you've read more recently?

Pink Lemonade (WIP) by @garbagevanfleet

Ego (all 3 Parts) by @allieboop

Seven (WIP) by @stardustchordssammy

The Number One Rule by @streamingcolors-gvf and @allieboop

10. A fun one to finish...If you could insert yourself into any fic in the fandom, which would it be and what do you think would happen?

Boys of Summer (WIP) by @streamingcolors-gvf

My girl is in the process of writing a slow burn and confusing the hell out of me and I have NO IDEA what’s going on rn or what to expect, but I can tell you (and she knows this) that I would end up with Jake 😌

Tagging @samkiszkasfacialhair, @stardustbarbarians, and @mintysammykiszka (apologies if you’ve already been tagged)

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miyagifangkai · 2 years

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All-Valley

Tagged: @thornyrose463

Taglist: @bb-skyrunner

@vntgkenz

Request: The request is super long so I’m not gonna paste here lol love you @thornyrose463 😅 but it’s practically a rehash of the season just in the readers eyes. Also, Johnny is your dad and Robby is your estranged brother.

Warnings: !!!Cursing!!!, Violence, Angst, Sadness, but also super happy parts too!!

Also !!!NOT PROOFREAD!!!! Sorry lol

Word Count: 5.4k she’s LONG lol

Characters Involved: Reader, Johnny, Hawk/Eli, Miguel, Demetri, Sam, Tory, Robby, Daniel, Kenny, Kreese, Silver, Stingray, Kyler, and… anyone else from Cobra Kai lol

Couple Pairing: Reader x Hawk/Eli

A/N note: Thank you so much for the request! And thank you for being so patient. I hope you like it and enjoy reading this! 🥰

“Hey, Dad?”

Johnny looks up from his dinner slightly annoyed that you had interrupted his eating time but feigns a smile, “What?”

You had been wanting to ask this question for awhile. Ever since you saw him at school roaming the hallways hanging out with the rival dojo. You knew that it was him the first second you saw him and he knew that it was you when he glanced your way. It hurt in a weird way when he wouldn’t speak to you or even acknowledge your existence. You didn’t want to upset your dad over dinner but this question has been eating away at you for some time now so you ask any ways.

“We both know that Robby and I are going to the same school now,” you see your Dad’s face almost drop and he knew what your question was gonna be, “I was just wondering, I just wanted to know–”

“Why won't he talk to you?”

Your eyes widen a little you weren’t expecting Johnny to answer with that amount of aggressiveness towards you and you mutter, “Yeah.”

“Do we really have to have this talk now?”

You wanted to forget the entire conversation in itself knowing that your Dad wasn’t interested in talking about it but you needed to know, “What happened? Why were we separated?”

Johnny drops his fork with a loud clank and he sighs, “Listen, I don’t want your feelings hurt.”

You roll your eyes, “C’mon tell me. I can handle it.”

I mean, you were in high school almost practically an adult at this point. You had already had a boyfriend in your karate class, and you had your first kiss; you felt like you were wise for your age anyway. You still weren’t sure if you were ready to hear the truth about your Mom though. How she practically threw you away and wanting to forget about you completely. But you felt like you were ready for this conversation, for all of it.

“Y/N, your brother doesn’t like you because he’s jealous of you.”

You scoff, “Me? Why? He got to be with Mom and he had the choice to come see you at any time. That’s so unfair. I never had a choice to see her.”

“Yeah, I know. But you know that’s going through his head just like how you’re mad that you never got to see her.”

You feel yourself start to get mad, “But he had the choice to come see you. Mom threw me away!”

Your Dad’s voice raises, “And I threw away Robby!”

You were taken aback by his statement. You knew deep down that it was fact but you love your Dad and you didn’t want to admit that he had abandoned Robby throughout the years.

“Don’t say that,” your voice becomes smaller.

“It’s true,” Johnny scoffs and stands up from the table taking his plate to the sink, “I knew we shouldn’t have had this conversation. It’s just–”

“Complicated,” you interrupt.

“Yeah, complicated.”

You get up from the table and put your plate in the sink and start to wash dishes while Johnny cleans the rest up. You start to get lost in thought while doing the monotony.

You thought of all the memories that you and your Dad had. Him teaching you karate in his ridiculously small apartment. You admit that you were never the best around but you still tried your hardest and Johnny loves that about you. You were never willing to back down from a fight. He taught you how to protect yourself and also how to be yourself. Your Dad shaped you into who you were. One day while laying out in the baking sun during your sophomore year you met your next door neighbor, Miguel. You and him became instant friends. Not the bestest of friends but you two hung out a lot because of the convenience of being neighbors. You never told him about you learning karate or about your Dad being the victim of Daniel Larusso but it finally slipped out when your Dad opened up the Cobra Kai dojo. Of course, you were there front and center at every class. You helped him build his dojo up to make it look as sleek and professional as possible even though your Dad wasn’t any of that.

You told Miguel about the dojo because he was starting to get bullied more and more as of late and you thought that he needed something to help him protect himself as well. Miguel joined and helped the dojo grow even more. When Eli joined you had an instant crush on him. His soft spoken and gentle attitude was a nice wake up call for you. Eli and you had grown closer over time and he had developed feelings for you as well. Even though you two would be caught dead first before admitting it. But all of sudden Eli walked into the dojo one day as a different person. He wasn’t your gentle and kind Eli anymore, he was Hawk.

That same day Hawk asked you out and you said yes. Since then you two were an item amongst the dojo’s and everyone knew not to mess with you or to mess with him. You loved being around him at all times and you loved the days where you two could hang out after class and get some alone time together.

As you continue to think of your ex-boyfriend, Eli, well, now he’s Hawk. Sometimes you had to admit that you hate his new persona. He's started treating everyone around him like shit, including you. He thinks he’s a bad ass while picking on other kids and sometimes his friends. You had started to grow tired of his new attitude and you let him know that you were too. At first it was hot and edgy but as time went on he started to become worse and worse. But you ignored it most of the time because you loved him and you knew he did you; unfortunately, he wasn’t the best at showing it.

One day you were talking to a couple of guy friends and just flirting around totally innocently. Hawk showed up and made a complete ass of himself. That was the last straw. He was being completely toxic to you and your friends and you couldn’t put up with it anymore. You broke it off with him that same day leaving heartbreak between you and Hawk. For a while that’s all you could focus on was the pain of the breakup and Hawk. He littered your thoughts the constant time and seeing him at Cobra Kai wasn’t helping matters either. You tried avoiding each other at all costs but it was hard when Miguel and Demetri were your best friends. That said, Hawk wasn’t even friends with Demetri anymore; which hurt Demetri and you could tell.

But all the hurt feelings and pining came to an end for you after your Dad lost the dojo to Kreese.

It took your dad awhile to get his bearings back together. He slowly sank back into his alcohol addiction and communication between you two came to a few sentences during the day. Your dad decided to open a new dojo and call it Eagle Fang; you had dropped out of Cobra Kai as soon as you realized that Kreese was gonna be your Sensei. You joined Eagle Fang with most of the other Cobra Kai students. You, Miguel, and Hawk were still friends but not as close as you used to be due to the melodrama between each other.

After Eagle Fang was starting to struggle a bit and tensions were getting stronger between Kreese, Daniel and Johnny combined dojos and created Miyagi Fang.

So far so good until a mysterious man decided to trespass on Miyagi Do land.

You, Hawk, Demetri, and Miguel were talking about the math test at school when you heard a few other students whispering and peeking out of the crack of the door. You four quickly rush over and Hawk pushes the other kids out of the way so you all could see. You see a tall man with longer gray hair and Daniel clearly being extremely uncomfortable. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying. Your Dad was standing somewhat behind Daniel, very tense, so whatever this guy was saying must’ve been intense.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Hawk asks.

You look up at him with worry, “I don’t know,” you quickly look away to see what was going on.

You feel a gentle pat on your shoulder but you didn’t look at him knowing he would see a slight blush that had creeped up on your cheeks. Soon you see Kreese walk up to your Dad and Daniel. You witness your Dad clutching his fists as Daniel tells them to leave very aggressively. After they leave you guys step outside and Johnny looks at you with worry and anger. You knew that something bad was going on but you decided not to push.

After that day Daniel and Johnny were different during class. They were extremely passionate about what they taught and made sure everyone nailed it to a T. They were always passionate but more so than usual.

At school you see Hawk and Demetri approaching you guys and Hawk says, “Guys we researched who Terry Silver was and it’s definitely not good.”

Your eyes widen, “What do you mean by not good?”

Hawk looks at you, “He practically tortured Sensei Larusso when he was younger.”

“Yeah, total emotional and physical damage,” Demetri adds.

All of your jaws drop and things finally start falling into place as to why your Dad and Sensei Larusso were acting the way they were lately.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you barely heard Moon compliment Hawk’s new hair color, “I like the new hue. Purple is the color of the crown chakra, you know. It symbolizes enlightenment.”

Hawk smiles at her, “Thanks, Moon. I like it too.”

You almost butt in on their small conversation but you choose not to. You see Hawk glance at you for a second almost silently begging you for a compliment but that never came.

You say, “Hey! Hear about Dad and Daniel’s match?”

That is when Miguel answers for you telling Hawk and Demetri about how they were growing tense about teaching styles.

Hawk and Demetri are in shock with Hawk saying, “I knew something was going on between those two!”

You nod your head, “Yeah. They’re gonna duke it out in a few days.”

You all start going off on your Sensei’s and talking about getting a front row seat to the match.

The day of the match Hawk decides to get his tattoo fixed up but he couldn’t make it to the appointment without the help form you. You needed to give him a ride to the shop due to his tire being flat. You agreed to take him so you could have some reign over what tattoo he’s gonna get.

You two arrive at the tattoo shop and Hawk gets in the chair and gets ready after picking out his design. You two sit there in an awkward silence for a little bit until Hawk says, “This tattoo is gonna be so bad ass.”

“You think?”

Hawk looks up, “Uh, yeah. It’s gonna be awesome!”

You shrug your shoulders and chuckle, “I hope so!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You don’t like tattoos.”

“Hey, it’s not that I don’t like tattoos, it's just I wouldn’t like them on me.”

“Okay, fair.”

You give him a small smile, “How do you not get nervous?”

“About getting a tattoo? Oh, I’m nervous. I just don’t show it.”

“Don’t wanna lose your macho?”

Hawk chuckles, “Yeah, my macho.”

You two laugh but that quickly comes to an end when you see the Cobra Kai kids walk in and Hawk jumps up causing you too as well.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing here?”

The students stand there waiting for Robby’s go ahead. Hawk tries to jump them but he is quickly overpowered and held down on the tattoo chair. You take a step towards them but feel a huge burst on your chest. You look down surprised to see green paint all over your shirt and your jacket.

“What the fuck!”

“Oh, sorry. Did I mess up your shirt?” Robby feigns a frown, “Why don’t you let Daddy wash it for you, huh?”

You ran up to Robby who was the one who threw the paint filled balloon but you were restrained and they forced you to look at Hawk who was struggling against the others.

“Let her go, man!” Hawk begs.

“Hmm.. no. I think she needs to see this. I mean, she’s been protected by him for so long. I think it’s time for her to grow up,” Robby says deviously.

“What the hell is your problem with me? I did nothing to you!”

Robby scoffs, “Sure you didn’t. But. Your asshole boyfriend did.”

Tory bends down to look at you in the eyes, “How fun. You get a front row seat.”

“Screw off,” you mutter out.

“Sorry? What’d you say? I couldn’t hear that.”

You look up at her with rage filled eyes, “Oh, let me put it in layman terms,” you sigh almost regretting what you’re about to say, “Fuck. You.”

Tory chuckles, “God, you’re a bitch.”

“Tory! C’mon! Forget about her. She’s not worth the time. Let’s get this shit done,” Robby firmly states.

Tory goes over to join Robby as they start cutting off Hawk’s mohawk. You try to look away but they wouldn’t let you. After they were finished with Hawk they let go of him and he just sat there, unmoving. Almost ashamed. The students rush out of the shop leaving you frozen and Hawk devastated.

You approach Hawk slowly, “Hey, are you–”

Hawk swats you away, “Please!” His voice softens, “just get away from me.”

You feel tears prick your eyes, “Sorry.”

Hawk stands up, “Let’s go.”

You nod your head and you two quickly get in the car.

You rush to the Miyagi Fang dojo and catch the end of Johnny and Daniel’s fight. Everyone turns around to look at you and Hawk and they rush around you.

“Guys, what happened?”

Before you could answer Hawk says, “We got ambushed by Cobra Kai.”

Everyone gasps, “Seriously?”

You answer, “Yeah. Threw paint on me and they restrained us.”

Hawk slowly pulls his hood down, “They ruined me.”

Johnny rushes over to you, “Are you ok– oh, my God.”

Everyone is in shock. They weren’t ready to see Hawk’s mohawk gone.

Johnny rounds you and Hawk up, “We are going home. Questions will be answered later.”

You all get in Johnny’s car and he takes Hawk home. When Hawk gets out of the car in dead silence all that’s left was awkwardness between you and your father.

“Y/N, what happened?”

“Cobra Kai ambushed us at the tattoo shop.”

“Tattoo shop?”

“Yeah. Hawk was wanting a tattoo so I gave him a ride.”

Johnny nods his head, “The green paint?”

“Robby.”

Johnny quickly turns to you, “Robby? Your brother Robby?”

You nod your head.

“Holy shit. I–”

“You and Daniel fighting again?”

Your dad turns back around and starts the car, “Yeah.”

You two head home and you immediately jump in the shower discarding your shirt and jacket in the garbage. The next few days pass by and there is no sign of Hawk. Nobody knew where he was. He wasn’t showing to school or to karate and it was worrying you guys. You all needed to tell him about the new rules for the tournament. Demetri decided to go over to his place to cheer him up.

Demetri rings the doorbell and Hawk answers, “What?”

“Let me in, please. I have news,” Demetri says.

Hawk lets Demetri in and they both sit down on the couch, “There’s new rules for the tournament.”

Hawk looks at him, “I’m not doing karate anymore.”

“You what?”

“I’m done. Also, Hawk is done. I’m Eli now.”

Demetri scoffs, “Bullshit.”

“No. It’s not.”

“C’mon, man. You’re so good at what you do! I mean, karate saved me. If it wasn’t for you and Y/N I don’t know where I’d be right now. I’m not saying you have to go back to Eagle Fang and get abused. Why don’t you try out Miyagi Do? It’s much more softer.”

Eli gives Demetri a small smile, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m done with this. I’m not me anymore.”

“What the hell are you even talking about? This is you. This is who you are.”

“No. I’m not a softie.”

“I’m not saying you are! I’m just saying that you love karate and that’s who you are.”

Eli sighs, “I just– ugh– I don’t know. I’m meaningless.”

“Dude, that mohawk did not define you. Your hair isn’t your whole being. You need to be who you truly are. That’s Eli Moskowitz. Not your fake persona.”

Eli almost starts to cry, “Whatever.”

Demetri grabs the laptop and shows Eli that Binary Brothers video, “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because this is who you are,” Demetri didn’t wanna go this route but he decided to go for where it hurts, “This is who Y/N fell for.”

Eli sucks in his breath, “Don’t.”

“What? Tell the truth? Seems to me that she dumped your ass when you were Hawk, huh?” Demetri sighs and adds on, “I’m so excited for this tournament but it feels like I can’t enjoy it without you.”

Eli keeps watching the video and mulling over the statement Demetri had made and he suddenly realizes that maybe it’s not awful to be who really was; a nerd.

“I guess.”

“Join Miyagi Do? It’ll be really fun and you can leave your toxic masculinity behind!”

The video ends and Eli looks at Demetri, “Okay.”

“Okay? As in you’re coming back to karate?”

“Yeah, I’m coming back to karate. Miyagi Do karate.”

Demetri tells Eli about the new rules for the tournament and Eli comes into school the next day and he automatically approaches you in the hallway.

“Hawk! Hey!” You say excitedly but notice Eli’s face drop.

“It’s Eli.”

You look down at the floor, “Oh, uh, hey Eli.”

Eli smiles, “Hey!”

You look back at him, “What’s up?”

Eli’s smile drops and he sighs, “So, I’m gonna join Miyagi Do. I just feel like I’ll belong there better.”

You look at him almost saddened by what he said but you accept it, “As long as you’re happy and you get back into karate again that’s fine with me.”

“Really? You promise?”

You laugh, “Yes, Eli. I promise!”

“Okay, good! Also, before I go. I have another question.”

“What is it?”

You can see Eli’s hands start to shake a little bit as he grabs the straps of his bag, “I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom? With me?”

You were dumbfounded. You never thought he would ask you to go to prom with him. Of course, you were hoping he was gonna ask but you never thought he’d go through with it. Especially after what happened.

“Yes! I’d love to go with you.”

“Awesome!”

It was prom night and you and Eli have been there for a bit. Going out to dance, eat, and get punch. Moon invites you two out to dance with her and her boyfriend and you two agree and go to find Demetri to join you guys; you two find Demetri moping.

“Hey, mopy McGee. What are you doing?” You ask.

“Nothing. That’s the problem. I’m doing nothing. Yasmine isn’t here with me. Prom without a date is like Halloween without the candy. What’s the point?”

Your eyes widen with excitement, “Uh, I think your worries will be no more. Look behind you!”

Demetri turns around and sees Yasmine, “Oh, my Jessica Rabbit! What are you doing here?”

You and Eli chuckle as Demetri and Yasmine go to dance with Moon. You catch a glimpse of Robby and Tory walking in. You lightly grab Eli’s hand and his eyes meet yours with worry.

“They’re here.”

Eli looks up and makes eye contact with Robby, “Great.”

You see Sam and Miguel go to the dance floor and dance with Robby and Tory staring them down. The couples practically having a staring contest with each other.

You feel Eli softly elbow your arm, “Intense, right?”

“Yeah, to say the least.”

By this time everyone is starting to catch wind of the afterparty at Stingrays and you and Hawk decide to go.

You arrive and the place is hopping.

“Holy shit, Eli. I’ve never been to a party before.”

“Wait, really?”

You look at him, “And you have?”

“Uh, yeah. Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

You two get out of the car and head in. You immediately start drinking, while Eli only drinks punch because he was the designated driver, and dancing amongst yourselves. The party is in full swing until Stingrays neighbor comes in and threatens to call the cops and insults Stingray which causes him to seriously injure the guy and everyone stands there in silence until Kyler and his band of bros start cheering him on resuming the music.

“I dunno, Eli. I think we should stay a little bit longer.”

“Are you crazy? We can't be arrested.”

“We aren’t gonna get arrested. Calm down, babe.”

“Oh, babe? Yeah. You’re drunk. We are going home.”

“No. I don’t wanna! Oh! A pool! Fun!”

“Y/N, no! Absolutely no–holy shit.”

You two walk out and see an all out brawl between Miguel, Sam, Robby and Tory.

They are all attacking each other until Sam, Tory, and Miguel are all three pushed into the pool by Robby. Stingray runs out and screams, “POOL PARTY!” and jumps into the pool with them followed suit by many others.

You and Eli rush over and help Sam and Miguel climb out. You hear Eli asking if they’re okay and you look at Robby.

In your drunken state you say, “You’re an asshole.”

“Fuck you, Daddy’s girl!”

“No! Fuck you, you whiny little girl!”

You feel Eli grab your arm when you’re about to jump in and kill him.

You pull your arm away, “No. I’m gonna kill him. Let me go!”

“No,” Eli picks you up and carries you out.

You, Miguel, and Eli pile up in his car and he takes you and Miguel home. You say your goodbyes for the night and as your walking inside you see your Dad drunk roaming the complex. You and Miguel rush over to him.

“Dad, not again.”

You put one of his arms over you and Miguel drapes the other over him and you two practically carry him inside and lay him down.

Johnny starts rambling, “I want to be a father to you, I really do. I try to protect you. I try to be there for you. I suck at it. I really suck at it. But I want to so badly.”

Miguel answers, “You're doing just fine. I love you.”

That’s when Johnny rolls over and mutters to your surprise, “I love you too, Robby.”

You immediately look over to Miguel to see him tearing up and you reach over to him but he runs away. You follow him throughout the house trying to explain that your Dad is a drunken idiot but Miguel slams the door in your face. You turn back around and head into your room and start crying yourself to sleep. Maybe the extra emotions was from Miguels heartbreak or your own but all you knew in that moment was that Miguel was gonna be different after this.

The All Valley Tournament rolls around before you know it. You see everyone trying to gain composure over the nerve wracking circumstances. Miguel and Johnny were tense with each other as he explains what happened at the afterparty and Johnny tries to give him focus. You see Kreese and Silver laying into their students saying to not let history repeat itself and you see Daniel preaching about defense and staying calm.

Now it was time to showcase talents. You were going to break boards which you did pretty easily. Then you see Eli try to break his. He tries his best to break the boards but fails to break the bottom one. You see him extremely disappointed in himself. It left you broken hearted for him. He confides in Daniel who supports him and you see him get a small smile on his face. So far Cobra Kai was in sixth place but slowly gaining back steam. By the time the talent portion was over Cobra Kai had placed at the top.

Johnny is mad that Miyagi Fang is in sixth place and Devon explains to him the statistics on how they could possibly come out for the win.

They announce that Carrie Underwood is gonna perform to a lot of people's excitement and all of the Sensei's surprise. She finishes up her performance and the tournament is back on. Now it was time for the one on one matches. You were up first against some random dojo and you get the win and advanced on. Miguel, Eli, Robby, Tori, Demetri, and Sam all win their matches and advance on. Unfortunately Devon loses her match and is disqualified and says she will do better next year.

Sam and Daniel start to realize that Cobra Kai is pulling out tricks from Miyagi Do’s handbook.

As Demetri loses to Kyler, Daniel confronts Robby about using Miyagi Do methods and Robby responds with, “If you want to win then you have to do what you gotta do.”

“Well, you didn’t learn anything from Miyagi Do if all you think about is victory.”

Robby shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t say a word.

Daniel ends the conversation with, "Don't put passion over principle. Even if you win, you lose.”

Next was Eli and Kyler. You could tell that Eli was nervous.

Kyler mocks him, “Too bad your friend lost to Cobra Kai. Can’t wait to mop the floor with you too, Lip.”

You see Eli’s demeanor change. Kyler had broken his spirit.

You rush over to Eli, “Ignore him. He’s just a stupid bully, but that’s not who you are.”

Eli says, “I don’t know who I am these days.”

“You’re not defined by your haircut, you know. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I was really digging the purple, actually. But I like you for your confidence. I know it’s still in there somewhere. Now, go kick Kyler’s ass,” you kiss Eli not giving a damn about who saw. Eli cups your cheek and kisses you back. You two pull away and he smiles as he runs back to the Miyagi Do students.

Daniel walks up to Eli and asks, “Everything good?”

“Never better. I know who I am now.”

Daniel asks, “And who's that?”

“The guy who is going to win this whole fucking thing.”

Eli easily defeats Kyler with finesse.

Sam and Piper face off and Daniel quickly notices that Sam wasn’t using Miyagi Do training. Sam wins against Piper and Daniel asks, “What was that?”

“Eagle Fang.”

“That’s what I thought. How’d you pick up on so much?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It matters. You didn’t win the right way, Sam.”

Sam answers, “What if my right way is different than yours? Don’t I get a choice?”

Daniel backs down after hearing what she says.

Kenny and Robby have to face off. Kenny takes the first point and Kreese calls a time out. Silver seems to be laying into Robby telling him that there wasn’t any time for funny games and you see Robby smart off. After the talk, Robby easily takes the win from Kenny causing him to storm off. You see Robby trying to console Kenny but Tory tells him to give Kenny space.

You see Daniel and your Dad arguing about their teaching styles.

Johnny yelling, “Stay away from Miguel!”

Daniel arguing, “Stay away from Sam!”

They both part ways seething at each other as Eli and Miguel are up next against each other. The boys are not happy that they have to be fighting each other. Miguel tells Johnny that he doesn’t want to fight Eli and Johnny tells him that it’ll be okay and if he wants to win he’s gonna have to take out his friend and to just give it his all. Eli confides in Daniel saying he doesn’t want to go against his friend and Daniel tells Eli to be patient against him and use defense.

Demetri says that no one has beaten Miguel yet and Sam answers with, “Yeah, because Johnny taught him.”

Daniel looks down at Sam with disdain.

Eli and Miguel face off. The fight is getting intense and Miguel decides to use a very dangerous maneuver which causes him to pull a muscle and hurt himself. The fight is then paused and they take Miguel back to check on him.

You run back, “Hey, are you okay?”

Miguel slowly sits up, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just hurts.”

You put your hand on his shoulder, “Are you gonna be able to finish?”

Miguel looks at you teary eyed, “I don’t think I can.”

You sigh, “Are you sure?”

Miguel nods his head and mutters, “I’m sure.”

As you walk out you see your Dad walk back in with an ice pack to give him a pep talk but you already knew his answer.

You walk back out shaking your head towards the Miyagi Fang students telling them his answer.

Everyone is waiting for Miguel to return as the timer runs down. Eventually, Miguel decides he can’t fight with his injury and Eli moves on to face Robby.

The boys take to the mat and you see that the fight is fair. With Eli staying patient and blocking and so is Robby. They are both using a mix of the dojos that they have been in and they are seemingly matched in talent. Until they come to a tie; which puts them into sudden death. This hasn’t happened since 1985 and everyone is on the edge of their seats. You’re practically holding your breath at this point. You see Eli talking to Daniel and Daniel giving him some advice. Then they step up on the mat again with Eli confidently strutting his way there. Robby takes off his top and tosses it to Tory and Eli looks at the ref and he just shrugs. Eli decides to take his top off and toss it to you with a smile as he shows off his Hawk tattoo to the crowd and they go wild. The fight starts back up and everyone is cheering and you’re standing there anxious. You knew that if Eli couldn’t win this he would be crushed and there was also a little part of you that wanted Robby to get pummeled. Robby gains the upper hand on Eli and pins him down; Robby looks up at Kenny and sees him mercilessly cheering him on but as he is distracted Eli kicks him off and they take their stance again. This time Eli gets the upper hand and wins. Everyone, including you, runs onto the mat and congratulates Eli. He starts yelling and celebrating as Robby storms off disappointed.

Next up was Sam and Tory. The fight was intense with those two going head to head with the same skill sets. Sam starts getting beat and she calls a time out. She runs to Daniel and she says that her defense isn’t working. That’s when Daniel realizes she has another trick up her sleeve and that was Miyagi Fang. He tells Sam to use everything she has learned and show no mercy. Unfortunately, Sam loses to Tory 3-2 and Sam is so heartbroken. Seeing them celebrate winning it all was a blow to your stomach after all they had done to you.

You were walking down the hall to get your stuff in the locker room and spot Tory talking to her friends. She says that she will catch up with them and she looks through the window and sees something. You weren’t close enough to see what was going on but she looked disappointed.

You knew that something was going on but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #miguel diaz #samantha larusso #tory nichols #robby keene #demetri cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai fanfic #hawk moskowitz #hawk x reader

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garbinge · 3 years

Text

My Best Girl (5/?)

Summary: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts fell in love as teenagers and had a kid, Maxine Stark, who would grow up to be a bio engineer. Here she was, now an adult and learning how to navigate the world she wanted to live in, as well as the one her father lived in. Enjoy these slices of life moments that happen throughout different periods of time along the MCU timeline.

Pairings: Tony Stark!Dad x OC Maxine Stark Steve Rogers x OC Maxine Stark (romantic pairing)

Chapter Index

TW: alcohol, angst, canon-level violence, cursing.

A/N: hiiii friends. had most of this sitting in my google docs for a while and just got the motivation and inspo to finish it up. This is one of my favorite scenes from all the avengers movies because it’s just so nice seeing them ~live life~ lol. I love these two so FUCKING much. Like they take up such a big part of my heart. Hope you enjoy this little chapter, let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Word Count: 3.7k words

May 2nd 2015

The party at the Avengers tower was lively and loud. Close to 200 people were invited and that meant 300 people showed up. Tony wasn’t a stranger to these types of events, but it was out of his element not having Pepper there to help coordinate. Luckily Happy and Rhodey along with some of the maintenance staff really helped pull everything together.

“Where are the ladies?” Agent Hill joked.

“Pepper is off running a billion dollar company” Tony bragged.

“Jane is in some country or other. I believe she was nominated for a Nobel Peace prize.” Thor tried to one up Tony.

“and I’m right here.” Max’s voice chimed from behind them.

“Ah! My girl!” Tony cooed and wrapped his free arm around the girl as he lifted the other one with a drink in it.

Rhodes smiled at the girl he considered a niece. “Good to have you around, Max.”

“Yes, little Stark. It is a pleasure.” Thor smirked knowingly and corrected himself. “Max.” He lifted his drink and tucked his head a little to cheers her and apologize.

“What no galas, conventions or lab research tonight?” Tony said looking at his daughter who used those excuses many times in the past.

“I’m actually wrapping up my research for a bit so I can go along with about 7 other engineers and doctors to Sokovia.” She took a sip of her own drink hoping Tony didn’t flip out.

“What’s in Sokovia?” Rhodes asked, seemingly interested.

“About 100 amputees and thousands of underserved people who could benefit from the research we’ve already conducted. We unfortunately won’t be giving them restorative or regenerated limbs just yet but some will be a part of a trial while others we plan to provide them with advanced level prosthetics. I, personally, will be conducting the trials.” She explained.

Thor’s eyes widened in astonishment along with Rhodey while Agent Hill smiled.

Tony turned to the group, “My daughter, the helper.” He smiled knowing he had out done Thor.

“I’ll be making my rounds just wanted to say hi to dad.” Max interrupted their testosterone fest. She gave a quick kiss to her father as she slipped away into the crowd, starting conversations with the next group of people on her list of rounds.

Sam and Steve were walking up the stairs to the second floor of the party having a small conversation about this and that. As they reached the railing they began looking around at the party below them. It was out of both of their elements. Sam, who just entered into this life while Steve was still adapting to life out of the 40s.

Steve’s eyes traveled the room seeing all of his friends interacting and drinking, laughing and having a good time. His glance came to a halt when he saw her. The first thing catching his attention was her laugh. That fucking laugh. It gave him goosebumps hearing it again, along with flashbacks to the night they last spent together. Followed up by the rejection she gave him, which he was understanding of, but he’d lie if he said it didn’t hurt.

The second thing he noticed was the small band of color in her hair that most would miss at a glance, but not Steve. It was a signature for her. Then his eyes moved to the all black outfit she had on. A black tank top with lace peeking through tucked into black jeans. In a sea full of women who were in dresses, men in suits, she stood out while fitting in perfectly.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam’s voice brought Steve back to the moment in front of him.

“I don’t know if I can afford a place in Brooklyn.” Cap laughed.

“Yea,” Sam chuckled. “But hey, home is home.”

The comment made Steve move his eyes back over to the girl. The words Sam said repeated in his head until he decided to pull himself away and join Thor with a couple of the veterans Tony invited.

They began shooting the shit, talking, and drinking. Typical party behavior. Thor brought out a flask of liquor from Asgard for him and Steve, pouring it into their cups.

“Hello boys. Saving some for me?” Max’s voice caused Steve to look back where she was standing. He thought it’d be awkward, since the last time he saw her was that night. But he should’ve known better that Max wasn’t one to make anything weird.

“This is not a drink for mortal men.” Thor boomed with a smile. “Or women.”

“I’ll try my luck.” Her confidence was bold.

Thor nodded and gave the girl a healthy amount of the drink, but not nearly the amount he gave to Steve or himself.

“So little Stark, how have you been?” Thor asked now that he was able to really converse with the girl.

“Alright, you know just working.” She shrugged.

“You’re telling me, with your young life, your Stark life, you aren’t out having any fun?” Thor rolled his eyes.

Maxine’s eyes darted to Steve with a devilish glare, and then back to Thor. “Trust me, Thor. I have my share of fun.” Her hand raised to his arm as she leaned over and placed the finished drink in front of him. “Plenty of it.”

With that, she walked away to the railing and looked out over the party, much like Steve was earlier.

“That girl is trouble.” Thor laughed, finishing his own drink. “But she’s wildly smart.” He looked over at Steve. “Apparently she’s going to Sokovia to heal their people.”

Steve looked at Thor with a frown. “I thought she was working on that regenerative health project.”

“She’s taking that research and applying it over there, or something of that sort.” Thor briefly explained before he excused himself to sit on the couch.

Steve’s eyes moved over to the rail where the girl was now hunched over, not standing straight like before. He immediately made his way over to her.

“You alright?” He quickly moved his hand around her waist to help her stand up properly.

“I don’t feel so hot.” She said, gripping her hand around his shoulder to keep her balanced and standing.

“Alright, come on, I’ll get you some water.” He said maneuvering her against him so they looked normal side by side as they walked down the stairs.

“Don’t tell Thor.” She laughed as she clung to his side. “Or Tony.” She laughed again.

Steve chuckled at her comments. “I wouldn’t dare.” He plopped her onto the bar stool as he went to go get water for the girl across the bar.

She sipped the water and it brought life back into her. “So I guess he was right that stuff isn’t meant for us average women.”

“If you were to ask me you’re anything but average.” Steve said, sipping a beer he grabbed, still standing behind the counter.

“Are you flirting with me, Captain?” Max’s eyes opened a bit wider as her lips pressed against the bottle of water and she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Just stating facts, is all.”

There was a brief silence where the two just stared at each other for a minute before Steve spoke up.

“Heard you’re going to Sokovia.”

“Word travels fast around here. Tony’s learning from Pepper’s PR skills.” Max sighed. “I leave technically tomorrow.”

“Happy for you.” Steve kept his thoughts and comments short and brief not wanting to come off too strong. He did already flirt with her.

“Yea, I can see the happiness all over your face.” Max could read Steve like a book.

“It’s not that.” Steve shook his head. “I just don’t want you to think I’m coming on too hard.”

“I haven’t heard from you in over two years, Rogers.” Max shook her head. “If that’s you coming onto me, things were really different in the 40’s.”

Before Steve could respond he was being called over to a group of people.

“I’ll be right back.” He said with sympathetic eyes.

“I’ll be right here.” She moved her arms across the table.

The minute he had his back turned the girl was leaning over the table, grabbing herself a beer without waiting for the bartender to return. The action itself earned her a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation from someone who liked her “boldness” and “not like other girls” vibe.

The man moved his hand up to touch the girl's bare arm when she jerked it away. As she jerked back, about to go off on the man, she felt another set of arms wrap over her shoulders.

“Hey Rumlow, thanks for keeping my girl company over here.” Steve was towering over the man while holding Max close. “But I got it from here. Why don’t we get out of here, Stark?” He looked down at the girl and back to Rumlow who was standing there with annoyance in his eyes until he heard the word Stark.

“Stark?” He looked at the girl. “Maxine Stark. Bio Engineer and daughter to Tony Stark.” She smiled and wrapped her other hand around Steve so she was engulfed in a hug with him.

“Excuse me.” Rumlow properly left as the two moved upstairs.

“I thought you were trying not to come on too hard.”

“I thought you didn’t feel too hot.” Steve pointed to the beer.

________

The Avengers, Agent Hill and Max were now all gathered in the upstairs lounge scattered across the multiple couches. The party had died down and it was just them relaxing and having a good night. Max was sitting on the floor leaning next to Cap’s leg, back to drinking like normal.

They began joking about Thor’s hammer, all of them claiming they would wield the weapon.

“Little Stark?” Thor pointed to the hammer. “I doubted you once today, but seemingly the liquor didn’t affect you too hard.” He frowned.

She smiled and squeezed Steve’s calf as she responded.

“What can I say, I'm not your average woman. But I think I’ll sit out the King Arthur moment, thanks.”

“Steve?” Thor questioned and the man got up. He took a couple seconds to roll up his sleeves.

“Go ahead Steve, no pressure.” Tony said sarcastically.

“Whoo, bring it home, Cap.” Max clapped as she adjusted her position.

Steve gripped hard and for a half of a half second the hammer seemed to wiggle slightly but no such luck lifting it. Steve lifted his hands in surrender and walked back to his seat where Max settled in against his leg again.

“That shit is rigged.” Tony said annoyed.

“Steve, he said a bad language word.” Agent Hill joked.

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve asked Tony with a hint of annoyance and humor in his tone.

“You did the bad word thing again?” Max looked up at him.

“Oh this is common behavior?” Agent Hill lifted her eyebrows.

“In D.C. he did the same thing to me when–” Max realized she let out too much information but it was too late to go back now. “When I dropped my coffee.” She lied straight out of her teeth. She felt Steve tense up underneath her and she quickly moved off of him.

A couple eyes moved to Tony as the tension filled the room. “You two hung out in D.C., huh?” He asked now standing versus sitting.

“I ran into him at Starbucks before the Biotech Convention.” Max answered calmly, trying to keep her voice level.

“Interesting.” Tony said, turning back to Bruce and Clint who he was talking with a couple seconds prior.

A loud shrieking noise that hit everyone's ears caused the conversation to come to an immediate halt. An ominous voice was heard by the doors that caused them all to settle down. A rogue robot came from the shadows, dripping oil on the ground and it’s wires sparking. Everyone stood up slowly, getting in a stance of defense.

“Stark.” Steve called out to Tony as he pushed Max behind him.

The robot started talking about it’s plan, the reason for its purpose, and how it had killed someone.

“You killed someone?” Steve stepped forward again, still keeping his hand behind him to shield Max.

“Dad.” Max called out to Tony who was frantically on his phone and remote trying to deactivate the robot.

Robots began flying out from every corner of the room. Steve quickly thinks on his feet, literally, by kicking a table at them which ended up sending him and Max backwards. He grabbed the woman in the air pulling her so she’d fall on him and just as they hit the ground he pushed her under a table and immediately jumped onto one of the robots in the air.

Max wasn’t one to sit idle while the heroes played. She crawled to one of the tiles she knew held internal wiring and smashed the glass container open, exposing them. She quickly dissected which wire did what before cutting down a couple wires with the knife she kept on her. This powered down two of the robots but it confused her why it didn’t shut down what she thought was Jarvis completely.

As she got up she was met face to face with a suit that was cut in half, it’s hand up ready to blast her through the window, which if the hit didn’t kill her, the fall down 81 floors would. The robot scanned the girl’s face and said the girl's name.

“Maxine Stark. Not a threat but related to the threat.”

Before it could finish it’s statement, Steve was taking it apart with his bare hands.

The remaining robots were put down by the Avengers, the last one standing was Ultron. Max quickly ran to her father’s side to help him up off the ground, assessing his wounds as Ultron continued talking.

“I’m fine.” Tony waved her off and made his way over to Ultron.

Max moved back over behind Cap, she hated being afraid but when you were going up against artificial intelligence, having no super powers per say made you a pretty easy target. Her arm reached up to grab Steve’s bicep as she hid behind him. It was an act of nerves but also to let him know she was there. His head turned to look, giving her a glance over before he turned his attention back to the robot.

“There is only one path to peace…The Avenger’s Extinction.”

With that, Thor’s hammer was being thrown through the air and the collision of that against the suit had clanked extremely loud, causing Max to jump and grip onto Steve even harder. His hand instinctually pushed her completely behind him and he brought his shield up to protect them both from any debris, even though he would have easily taken debris to the face to protect Max.

After the initial shock of the noise was gone, Steve was looking at Thor in disappointment almost, probably wishing he had a couple more seconds to ask a few more questions to the threatening suit.

Steve quickly turned around and looked at the girl making sure there were no marks on her, and she shook him off.

“I’m fine, Cap.” she smiled and squeezed his hand. And while that was true, it didn’t stop Steve from wiping the small amount of blood that had dripped down her face from a miniscule cut. It wasn’t a big deal, in fact, it honestly could’ve happened anywhere, anyhow. But Steve knew how it happened and that boiled his blood.

The group of them gathered in Tony’s lab. There was tension, there were arguments. All their work was gone, Ultron cleared them out. Between that, the fight, the fact Tony went behind their backs, and the chance that the evil AI could access nuclear codes, it was all just a lot to take in. Max was now in an oversized hoodie, hair up and out of her face, a butterfly bandage over the cut, which was an over exaggeration but insisted on by Tony, Cap, and Natasha. She was looking over the computers with Bruce, trying to dissect exactly what happened and what was next.

“He said he wanted us dead.” Natasha explained.

“He didn’t say dead, he said extinct.” Steve said, hands resting on his hips. A tell-tale sign that he was angry. “He also said he killed somebody.”

“There wasn’t anyone else in the building,” Agent Hill spoke up as she patched up her foot.

“Yes there was.” Tony spoke for the first time since they entered the lab, throwing up JARVIS’ AI program to the hologram.

Max gasped. It was a weird feeling, while JARVIS wasn’t a real human, he had been a part of her life for a large portion of it. He was family. And now, he was gone.

Bruce and Max stood over the hologram, Bruce more so taking it all in while Max was looking around figuring out if there was anything salvageable, anything they could do to bring any trace of JARVIS back.

“JARVIS was the first line of defense.” Cap understood as his arms crossed against his chest. “He would have shut Ultron down.”

“No, Ultron could have assimilated Jarvis. This isn’t strategy, this is rage.” Bruce answered.

“There’s gotta be a way to bring him back?” Max was now crouched down looking at the bottom trying to piece together something.

“Not worth your time.” Tony barked, causing Max to stand up, a little hurt.

Max was going to snap back to him but Thor was stomping his way into the lab and over to the older Stark, grabbing him by his neck and holding him up in the air.

A squeal left Max’s mouth and out of habit she went to help her father. While she understood Thor’s rage, she couldn’t condone it.

Steve stepped in quickly, leaving Max to tend to her dad, who brushed her off again as he stepped back up to Thor explaining how the situation was funny. A hoot even. Classic Stark way of trying to prove that they’re right and everyone else can’t see the bigger picture.

“Dad. Maybe we should cool down.” Max said.

Tony laughed and turned around. “You’re out of here. Next flight out, that’s where you are, in fact I’ll get you a Private Jet, no waiting around, you’re gone.”

Steve was quick now to defend the girl, but in his own way.

“The avengers were supposed to be different than SHEILD.” Steve stepped closer to Tony.

That was one thing that would never get old to Max, the fact that Rogers was never scared to stand up to her father. For her, for himself and for the greater good. She appreciated that.

After a few more back and forths, Steve bringing the hope to the conversation, mentioning they’ll deal with it together and they’ll lose together if it came to that, Tony walked out.

Steve approached Max, now that half the room had dispersed.

“You alright?” His hand reached up to touch the cut on her face but so lightly it almost tickled her. Max’s eyes closed as she leaned into his touch.

“I’m fine.” She hummed.

“I don’t just mean the cut, I mean you.” Steve let his hand drop as he looked down at the girl.

“That was nothing, trust me. Tony and I have a complicated father daughter relationship, and in all honesty that was one of our more calmer toe to toes.” Max explained.

Steve nodded, not believing it but not going to push her since she’d been through a lot tonight.

“So what’s your plan? You can set up in my room at the tower if you want? Get some rest, I can take one of the spare rooms, no problem.” Steve kindly offered.

Max felt her heart grow a size but was quick to make it go back to normal size.

“Thank you, really, but no.” She took a deep inhale. “I’m on a flight to Sokovia. 1AM. Technically tomorrow, remember? That was always the plan. Dad knew that but if he can throw something in my face and make it seem like his idea, he can’t miss out on that opportunity.” She chuckled and looked down at her feet.

“You’re going to go back to work?” Steve worrily asked.

“I’m a Stark, remember?” Her eyes met his, and she wiggled her eyebrows to ease the tension.

Steve wanted to argue it but he knew he wouldn’t win, so he figured he’d take the sweeter approach, “It was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you. Don’t go that long without talking to me again.” She pointed at him.

Steve laughed and nodded. “I can take you to the airport if you want?” Now he was just reaching for any excuse to elongate their goodbye, any opportunity to get one more minute with the girl.

“Max, let’s go, Happy’s downstairs, he’s got your bags packed.” Tony had reentered the lab to inform the girl and waved the tablet in the air that showed Happy waiting in the first floor lobby.

“I’m coming.” She said in a normal tone as he exited again leaving the two of them now completely alone in the room with the large amount of tension between them.

Their eyes stared at each other and Max decided to break through the wall of tension in a split second and hug the man. “Thanks for everything today.” The hug was over just as fast as it began. Steve was practically reaching out to reconnect the hug, to feel the girl in his arms again but she was already walking out of the lab.

Steve stole one more glance at her hoping to catch her smile one last time, before turning around defeated, which is exactly when Max looked back over her shoulder trying to steal one more look at him before leaving but also feeling defeated as he was already with his back to her.

That was typical for the two of them, though. Right place, wrong time. Right time, wrong place. All in all…just missing the opportunity, yet again, that potentially could have changed their lives.

34 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 3 years

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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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magicxc · 3 years

Text

Spliff

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Sam enjoy a beach day full of vibes.

Word Count: 865

Warnings: PG- 13, Smoking, Dry Humping, Kissing, Nipple Touching

A/N: I’m not sure how to tag this honestly, but there's brief mentions of nudity and some swapping of the spit, so according to Cinema guidelines, PG- 13 should be fine. I wanna thank these lovelies @samwilsonfest for hosting this event and showing Sam some much needed love. Also Happy Belated Birthday to the man himself, Anthony Mackie, I hope he continues to thrive <3 I would’ve loved to post yesterday, but today works fine. I like to think of this piece as my birthday gift for him, from me, to me lol. My prompt was sunglasses and without further ado, enjoy!!

Taking a long drag, I lower the blunt and inhale all that my grass has to offer. It's a different strain than I'm used to, but there’s an earthy scent to it. This is a warm combination of rosemary and sage, something Sam insisted on for its hEaLtH bEnEfItS; and I'm surprised to say, it's not half bad.

I'm only a few puffs in and already feeling hazy. And I get excited as hell because this is about to be a good ass session. My chest starts to burn, having held my breath too long, letting me know that it's time to exhale; and I lean over to do just that. My lips meet Sam's whose own are partially ajar and I blow the excess smoke into his mouth. His big, brown eyes are a dull shade of red, behind his sunglasses, and his heavy lids are cast down.

Inhaling, Sam peers down at me with a playful smirk, gracing his lips, and I let out a heavy groan because how does he manage to make shotgunning look so sexy. After a quick peck to his lips, I lean back and bask in the feather light feeling of my limbs. Handing the joint over to Sam, I close my eyes as I feel a cool breeze wash over my face. The sun is hitting just right as my body soaks up all the vitamin D it has to offer and I wonder what other source of D I can be lucky enough to soak up today.

A quiet moan rolls off my tongue as I turn on my side to face Sam. There's a cloud of smoke above his face and a newfound calmness in the air. I guess this must be the health benefits; straight vibes.

Dropping my hand to the ground, I dig it into the warm sand, crushing the pink grains in between my fingers. There’s a distant, yet constant humming and it takes me a while to realise that it's Sam speaking to me. Faded, my mind is neither here nor there as I ask him to repeat himself.

“Babe, you wasn’t listening to nothing I just said?” he questioned.

“No, I didn't baby, I'm sorry,” I mumbled. “What’d you say?”

“I said get your ass in the water and come get that body wet for me.”

“But I'm wet already, how much wetter do you want me,” I tease.

Reaching forward, Sam places the spliff between my lips, and hauls me onto his lap to face him.

“I want you drenched,” Sam enunciated. And drenched I am, you suave motherfucker.

Leaning back into his chair, he tugs on the strings of my top, letting them fall, as I, in turn, take a pull from the wood. Placed between my middle and pointer fingers, with my hand hovering in the air, I drag my other hand across his chest, and up to his face; tossing those horrid sunglasses to the side.

We had recently gone thrifting and what started out as a joke, has since turned into Sam wearing the damn thing every chance he gets. When he’s cooking. When he’s fishing, which I get. And now, he wears it when he’s cleaning. It's a goofy pair of green, weed, sunglasses and yeah it makes me laugh, but now all I do is cringe. My absolute last straw was Sam attempting to wear them during sex. It was either take them off or suffer the consequences. I swear I'm gonna accidentally break them on purpose.

I blow the remaining smoke into his face and that earns me a sharp slap to my ass. So I slowly grind into his dick and a deep moan emerges from Sam as he takes a hold of my ass and rubs it against his hardening member. Sinking down even further, I circle my hips above his pelvis and raise my hand to his mouth for him to take another pull.

Drawing in a breath, Sam takes it from my hand and puts it out. I bend forward, with both hands pressed against his chest, and push my lips forward, awaiting the incoming gust of smoke. It slips through my lips and rolls over my tongue into my throat. There's a fullness to my lungs and I exhale through my nose, arching forward to capture Sam's lips.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he helps pull me forward and soon enough, our nipples are touching, only the jewelry from mine adds to the cooling sensation on his; and already I feel them hardening. He sucks on my bottom lip and takes the opening of my mouth as his chance to slide his tongue inside. Our tongues run over the other, soft and smooth to the touch, tasting our earlier smoke session; as his hands slides down to my ass, cupping and squeezing.

Continuing to grind into each other, my hand inches up into his fluffy hair to grab a fistful. A grumbling noise follows and my once slow heart beat speeds up in pace; with only one thing in mind; okay maybe two. We pull away with a pop as Sam asks

“So, are you gonna get in that water, or do I have to take you?”

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #Samtember 2021 #Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!Reader #Smoke Session #Sam Wilson Fest #Black Reader #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson x Reader #Sam Wilson x You #Sam Wilson x Black Reader

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 5 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Epilogue

Chapter Warnings: None.

Word Count: 5,849

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So this is it, the epilogue, the end. I'm so sad to say goodbye to this series. I've really loved writing it, even if it kicked my ass a couple of times. I know I've said this already, but it definitely bears repeating - I'm so unbelievably grateful for the love and support you've all shown this series. Thanks so much - and I hope you enjoy this little peak into Dean and Y/N's lives a decade later. This ended up about twice as long as I'd planned. Lol! Enjoy! ❤️

Main Master List || Series Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Spring, 10 Years Later

The rumbling engine of the Impala was silenced as Dean pulled into the garage and parked Baby in her spot. The camp had eight cars now, so they'd had to expand the garage two summers before. The cars got shuffled around all the time, but Baby always kept her spot on the end. Everyone knew it was her spot.

The late afternoon sun shone in through the garage windows as Dean removed the keys from the ignition and pushed them back into his black, denim jacket pocket.

Sam was sitting beside him and shot him a questioning look when Dean didn't immediately jump out. “Dean?”

Dean nodded and then looked over at his little brother. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Sam sighed. He'd already answered this question from his brother, in various forms, three or four times.

The Deerling Survivors Camp, a small camp located almost seventy miles away, had sent a message to Dean a week earlier, requesting a face-to-face meeting. Dean had asked Sam to come along and they'd stayed overnight at the fledgling camp. The pseudo-leader there, just a young kid who’d been thrust into the role, had asked them to let Deerling join Camp Chitaqua, and after seeing the shape of the camp, Dean had agreed on the spot.

Years earlier the four smaller camps surrounding Chitaqua had joined them, expanding the camp by miles and miles and raising the population by more than two hundred people. It had been a big decision, and Dean had consulted with the council for a couple days before agreeing to the expansion.

It was a very good decision in the end, since they now had enough land to plant six, four acre farm plots. They made sure to rotate crops, leaving one field fallow every season and using it for grazing pasture. But all that fertile land meant that the campers all had plenty of fresh vegetables. Their expanded size also allowed them to enlarge their barn, so they could now house and care for four cows and a bull, two horses, dozens of chickens, a rooster, two pigs, and eight sheep.

They'd bartered and traded with other camps for most of their animals or found them wandering around alone and unclaimed. But they bought their sheep from a farmer living in what used to be Iowa. A lot of farmers had started over there, scratching out a new life from the soil, now that the world had started turning once again.

Seven years ago they'd finally succeeded in producing a vaccine. It had taken a lot of hard work. For three years, every single person that worked on it did so with nothing more than a promise of a better tomorrow.

It had taken another two plus years to get the word and the vaccine out to people, but now most of the population was vaccinated. The vaccine had also been carried overseas. They couldn't be sure how things were going across the pond because communication was still very limited. But they'd heard rumors that it was going well.

Some infrastructure was up and running again; they had electricity in some places, and some cities had running water again. There were even some places that had phone lines connected - in and around the bigger cities where people were beginning to congregate.

Things seemed to be progressing quickly out west in the former California, where they'd reportedly started broadcasting some form of Television again. Not very many people had TVs anymore to watch, but it seemed comforting to people just to know something resembling their former lives was returning.

Not everything was perfect, of course. There was no centralized government, or structured, widespread laws. Most areas had variations of camps like Chitaqua with leaders in charge, or occasionally small, internally elected governments that ran the camp. Lawlessness still existed in a lot of places, but it was being beaten further back every day as groups banded together.

There were also still some areas that were uninhabitable because massive groups of Croats still roamed there. The researchers that had created the vaccine were working on a cure for those who’d already been infected, but thus far they’d proved unsuccessful. Croat attacks still happened sometimes, but the vaccine meant that people just had to deal with the bite itself, making sure it was healing properly - something that was becoming easier as medical stations were springing up in and around larger populations as well, as doctors went back to healing people as they’d been trained to do.

Chitaqua had a physician, Dr. Turner, who lived in the camp. The Medical Tent was no more and instead the doctor’s office and their cache of medical supplies were now housed in a big log structure that had been tiled inside to keep it as clean and sanitary as possible. Patrick was happy to be rid of guard duties these days, working alongside Dr. Turner to watch over the health and well-being of the campers.

There weren’t many tents left nowadays either. They had a bunch stored away in case the camp ended up with a big influx of new campers and temporary housing was needed. But most people lived in log cabins of varying sizes, dotted over the two and a half square miles of the camp. There were well over five hundred people in the camp now, since amalgamating the four other camps. They also had a reputation for being a prosperous, strong community, so people tended to migrate there as well - which continued to add to their numbers.

Now, after the meeting with the Deerling camp, they’d be adding another ninety-six people to their ranks, inflating their population to nearly seven hundred people. Dean was worried about the fact that he’d made the decision to absorb the smaller camp without consulting the council this time.

The council was a group made up of eight other people besides Dean. Sam and Y/N were on it, as well as Brandy, Risa, Dr. Turner, and three other campers who were there representing the hunters, the farmers and the builders.

Day-to day decisions were still handled by Dean, but he relied on the council for other bigger decisions - taking their thoughts, ideas and opinions into account before he ultimately made a decision. Agreeing to take in another flock of people and develop another thirty acres of land was definitely one of those big decisions he’d normally take to the council, which was why, Sam knew, Dean had been second guessing his unilateral decision to say yes to Deerling’s request.

Sam shook his head at his brother as he answered Dean’s worry again. “Dean, you acted out of generosity, the council will understand. I can vouch for the fact that those campers need a lot of help very quickly. Those kids were starving, you could see that.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I know, but I just brought the camp more strain on resources with no benefits.”

Sam shrugged. “Well, there’s the land.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, unfarmable land that’s separated from us by almost eighty miles. And Brisbane camp sits between us and Deerling, and they already think we’re trying to take them over. Joining with a group on the other side of them is gonna make them even more suspicious and possibly turn them unfriendly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have consulted the council.”

“Dean, there’s no way the council would have opted to just let a bunch of kids and sick people die. They’re definitely going to agree with your decision, and this way you’ve simply ensured that we can get food and medicine out to them by tomorrow instead of making them wait days for it. Trust me, you made the right decision.”

Dean grunted his response, still unsure.

Sam slapped the back of his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “Now, I’m gonna go talk with the Doc about getting supplies together and coming out there with me tomorrow. Will you talk with Brandy later about food?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” A smile finally lit his face. “And then I’m goin’ home.”

Sam smiled and opened his door to climb out of the Impala. “Good plan. Give Y/N and the kids a kiss for me.”

Dean climbed out too and slammed his door behind him. He called Sam back as his brother began to walk away.

“We should also figure out a time and day to have a sit down with the new leader from Brisbane, talk with her about our intentions regarding Deerling. She’s tough, but she seems more approachable and level-headed than their last leader. Maybe we can convince her we’re not looking to take anything over.”

Sam nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Dean frowned. “What’s her name again?”

“Eileen Leahy.”

Dean noticed his brother’s cheeks turn pink and he immediately turned back into an annoying big brother, his grin wide.

“Right, right, you met with her alone last time. She’s cute, huh? Something we should know? Maybe you should invite her over to our place for dinner next week. We can have our little sit down conversation then. What do you think?”

Sam had already turned and started walking away. “You’re an idiot!” He called back over his shoulder. But Dean made a mental note to tell Y/N all about it later.

With Y/N firmly in mind he started out across the camp. Their cabin was situated on top of a low hill in the Southwest section of the camp, not all that far from where their old red tent used to sit.

They’d built their cabin when they came back to Chitaqua eight years ago after helping to set up the research facility. The vaccine was still a year away, but they’d done all they could do and they were ecstatic that after two years of traveling back and forth from camp, gathering doctors, researchers and searching for other psychic kids, (they’d only found two others) and after Y/N had given gallons of her blood to science, they could finally come home for good.

Not long after returning home, Y/N realized she was pregnant and Dean became obsessed with building them a beautiful home. It was around that time that the camps had all joined together and building homes for everyone became a priority of the camp.

The builders grew in numbers as they took on apprentices and taught them the trade so that more people in the camp could join in the work. It took almost four years of constant building, but eventually all five hundred plus campers had permanent homes.

Gotta pull the tents out for the Deerling folks, Dean thought as he walked, his mind immediately occupied with figuring out the logistics of where the new campers could stay, and how they could join in the life of the camp, once they were all healthy.

He stopped by Food Storage and spoke with Brandy as Sam had requested. And just as his brother had suspected, when he explained the situation, Brandy was one council member who was very glad he’d made the decision he had. He felt more sure now that the others would feel the same.

As Dean wound his way through camp he got stopped quite a few times, people wanting to talk with him about one concern or another. He generally pointed them in the direction of the person or group in the camp that could help them. But he also got stopped by friends wanting to say hi and talk for a moment or two.

He was happy to talk, but anxious to get home to Y/N.

He looked out towards the large school building where Y/N still taught every day. The new building had been built on the site where the main cabin had been burned down. It was even bigger than the old cabin, with six rooms for the seven teachers that worked there now.

Y/N was also the principal of the school for all intents and purposes; she and the other teachers taught over two hundred kids from ages five to sixteen. Theresa had finished school and immediately joined the staff as a teacher, working with Y/N every day and loving it. Brandy was so proud.

But Dean wasn’t surprised to see the building empty now, however; he knew it was a day off. He picked up his pace, weaving through the buildings that resided where the old tents had taken up space.

They’d greatly expanded the food storage, and had an entirely different rations system now that fresh vegetables, fruit, fish and game made up the vast majority of their diet. Brandy was still in charge and was constantly innovating to make things easier and to stretch their food as far as they could in order to feed everyone.

The former tent area also housed three large storage sheds, a small building that worked as an office/meeting space for whatever group needed to use it, and a small mill where they processed the wheat they grew - that process had included a steep learning curve, but they’d eventually made it work.

There was also a small, open area where a kind of market had popped up organically as the campers traded amongst themselves for things like homemade jewelry, homemade clothes, and other non-essentials.

He walked behind the buildings and began climbing the gently rising path that led to their cabin at the top of the hill. About halfway home he heard loud barking and looked up to see their seven year old Bernese-Husky cross, Clifford, bounding towards him, the way he usually did when any of the family came home.

“Hey, boy.” Dean said softly, scratching him behind the ears. “Miss me?”

Clifford barked happily in answer and ran ahead and then back to where Dean stood, obviously urging him on towards home. Dean laughed and sped up, chasing after the big dog who sometimes still acted like a puppy.

As the path through the trees ended, opening up into their wide front yard, Dean sighed deeply. “Home sweet home.” He murmured.

Even though he'd been away less than two days, he was still so happy to be home. He felt the peace that filled him up every time he stepped around the last bend in the path and caught sight of their home in the distance.

The way smoke curled lazily from the chimney and the scent of something delicious wafted through the half open Dutch door, never failed to make him ache to get his arms around his wife and bask in her light. Dean shook his head at his sentimental thoughts, but hurried his pace to get inside.

As he drew closer however, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head to see his son walking East, coming out from behind the house. Dean figured he was heading over to his friend Freddie's, and he was about to continue on into the cabin, but then he noticed what his eight-year-old was holding in his hand.

“Gabriel Eric Winchester!”

Dean's voice bellowed out, freezing the young boy where he stood. Dean strode towards him, anger clear on his face. To the boy's credit, even when he turned and saw his father's anger, he still walked forward slowly, until he was standing directly in front of him.

The gun he held, however, was tucked just behind his back, as though he was hoping Dean hadn't noticed it.

Dean held his hand out. “Give that to me this second.”

Gabe's face fell and he brought the gun forward reluctantly, dropping it onto Dean's palm.

Dean immediately checked to make sure the small, .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson revolver was unloaded and when he saw it was, he held it in his fist, directly in front of Gabe's eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with this?”

His son's eyes were wide and they got watery quickly.

He shrugged. “I was just gonna bring it to Freddie's. Josh said he could teach us to shoot.” He said, referring to his friend’s older brother. “Just cans on a fence.” He was quick to reassure Dean.

“And did you ask your mother if you could remove a gun from the weapons chest?” Dean asked, already well aware of the answer.

Gabe shook his head. “No.” He said quietly.

“How did you get it?” Dean asked brusquely.

Gabriel’s voice was still soft as he admitted what he’d done. “I grabbed it yesterday when mom took out a rifle to scare away some raccoons that were trying to get into the compost. Josh said he could teach us if we had guns. So when I saw it last night I just…” He trailed off as he looked up at Dean's face.

“So what you're telling me,” Dean said quietly, “is that while your mother's back was turned you STOLE a gun and planned to use it without asking either of us for permission.”

Gabe's tears spilled down his cheek at his father's disappointed tone and accurate words. He nodded and then sniffed.

“I'm sorry.” He said thickly.

Dean crouched down so he could look his son in the eye. “Gabe, a gun is not a toy. I thought you knew this. It's not something to mess around with or use on a whim. It is a weapon. It's incredibly dangerous. If you'd gone off and started shooting, even just at cans, you could have seriously hurt or killed yourself or your friends. Do you understand me?”

Gabe nodded but bit his lip. “But you carry a gun.” He said, pointing to the ever present gun strapped to Dean’s thigh. “And you started using guns when you were even younger than me. I heard you talking about it to mom before. And I…” He sniffled again. “I just wanted to be like you.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Oh, buddy, I want you to be so much more than me. Your mom and I, we've worked really hard to make things better for you guys, to make the world safer so that when you grow up, hopefully you won’t have to walk around with a gun strapped to you at all times. It’s my job to protect the people in this camp. That’s why I carry a gun, and why I sometimes carry a rifle. But that’s not your job. Your job is to just be a little boy.”

Dean saw Gabriel pout a bit about being called a little boy. He smiled gently and squeezed his son’s shoulders. “Trust me, buddy, you should enjoy being a kid, don’t try to grow up too quickly.”

Gabe nodded begrudgingly and Dean pulled his son in for a hug. After a moment, he pulled back from him and stood up straight again, before nodding towards the cabin. “Go to your room now until supper, and when you come out, you’ll owe your mother an apology for going behind her back. Also, nothing but school and home for a week, do you understand?”

Gabe looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it when Dean gave him a stern look. “Yes, sir.” He said in acceptance and turned to run into the cabin.

“Gabriel!” Dean called. When his son turned back, the tear tracks on his grubby cheeks still visible, Dean spoke quietly but with conviction. “I love you and that’s why I know you can do better.”

Gabe’s face lost some of its forlorn look and he gave Dean a slightly awkward smile, lightly banging his fist against the side of his leg. “Love you too, Dad.” He said quickly before bolting for the house.

Dean shook his head and slipped the gun into his inside jacket pocket. He’d have to have a few more conversations with his son about gun safety and responsibility, but he was confident he could drill the dangers into him.

He walked up the stairs to the front door, more than ready to see Y/N and his girls. When he walked inside, however, he could hear voices coming from behind the kitchen door, and they didn’t sound very happy.

He pushed open the swinging door and saw Y/N and Emma inside. Y/N’s face lit up. “Dean!” She said happily as she saw him and crossed to the door to pull him down for a kiss.

“Ew.” Emma said.

It was the standard reaction from all of their kids when they kissed in front of them. Emma had a hand over her eyes as Dean finished the kiss and looked over to where she stood by the sideboard that held all their plates, cups and glasses.

“You can look now, kiddo, we’re all finished.” Dean told her with a grin. “For the moment.”

Emma rolled her eyes and made Dean chuckle. Y/N frowned up at him. “Did I hear you yelling at Gabe?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, gotta talk to you about that, but you guys sounded angry when I came in. Anything wrong?”

Y/N looked at Emma and shrugged. “I’ve been telling Emma that she needs to invite her new friend for dinner.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Emma. “You don’t want to bring your friend over for dinner?”

Emma looked at Y/N with frustration, clearly annoyed that she’d told Dean anything.

Dean tried again. “What’s going on kiddo, since when don’t you want us to meet your friends? Who is it, by the way? Didn’t realize any new kids had started at the school.”

Y/N shook her head. “Jeffrey’s not a new student, he’s just a new…friend.” She said meaningfully.

Dean caught on and his face immediately dissolved into a scowl. “Oh.” He said without enthusiasm, crossing his arms over his chest.

“See?” Emma barked out, pointing at Dean, but talking to Y/N. “I told you this is how he’d be!!”

“What?” Dean asked defensively. “What are you talking about?”

Emma folded her arms, her posture and scowl mirroring Dean’s. “You get like this every time I bring a boy home, even when he’s absolutely just a friend. You scare the shit out of them!”

“Emma!” Y/N said, reprimanding her for her language..

But Dean just scoffed. “I don’t know what you mean. How do I scare them?”

Emma glared at him. “You interrogate them, Daddy, you know you do.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, if they’re too freaked out to answer a few simple questions then-”

“Simple questions?” Emma interrupted with a humorless laugh. “When I invited Timothy Sutherland over here you forced him to sit down and answer a thousand questions about his family, his background, where he grew up, what his plans were when we finished school. He ran out of here and never looked back.”

Dean threw his arms out. “Do you really wanna date a loser like that anyway? Who can’t even answer a couple questions?”

“Ugh!” Emma stomped her foot and stormed out the back door.

Silence reigned for a moment when Emma left before Y/N turned towards Dean, giving him a tilted smile. “So, welcome home!” She said in a would-be cheerful voice..

Dean sighed as he pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head. They enjoyed the simple peace of each other’s embrace for a few minutes before Y/N spoke.

“What happened with Gabe?” She asked.

“He stole a gun and was gonna go shoot cans with Josh and Freddie Young.”

“What?” Y/N shouted, pulling back to look into Dean’s face.

He nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I handled it. He’s in his room till supper and he’s grounded for a week. And I talked to him about how dangerous guns were. I have more conversations planned around the subject for the near future.”

Y/N shook her head before laying it back on Dean’s chest. “Good lord.”

After a couple minutes Y/N pulled away and poured them each a cup of coffee. They settled beside each other at the wooden table and instinctively linked fingers.

Dean took a sip of coffee and sighed. “I don’t really interrogate all her boyfriends, do I?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “Well, she’s never actually had a real boyfriend. And I don’t think that's because boys don’t want to date her. She’s smart and kind, beautiful and well-liked. So…” She shrugged. “It seems probable that the boys who like her are just too intimidated by her father - you know, the legend who fought monsters, Croats, angels, and WON - the soldier that leads the camp, wears a gun, and asks scary questions, all while donning a very good mean-face.”

Dean exhaled loudly, but before he could respond, their youngest child came bouncing into the room. She was just six years old, and looked so much like Emma at that age that it sometimes caught Dean off guard.

But she was definitely her own little bundle of energy. Having never known hunger or hardship, she was all bright smiles and busy excitement. It seemed as though she’d been born smiling and simply hadn't stopped. Very little bothered her, and she was absolutely spoiled by the entire family, including their found family members in the camp.

Everyone loved Hope.

“Daddy, you’re home!” Hope shouted as she jumped into his lap.

“Oof.” He grunted as she landed hard on some sensitive places. “Hey sweetheart!” He said, slightly out of breath.

“I missed you. Mommy said you might not come home until tomorrow, but I said that you would come home quick because you like to be home and you don’t like to stay away. Right?”

He nodded, trying to keep up with her racing words. “Yeah, baby, I love to be home.”

Before his sentence was ended Hope was on to her next thought. “I saw Emmie running out the back door and I tried to talk to her, but she looked mad. She was sitting on the tree swing in the back and I wanted a turn, so I told her to push me, but she just helped me on the swing and then she left to walk through the front yard and leave. And when I tried to follow her, she told me not to leave the yard and to go inside and see you cause you were back. So, I did.” She paused for breath before asking, “Why was Emmie mad?”

Y/N answered. “It’s nothing sweet pea. Why don’t you help me make supper? You can shuck the corn.”

Hope clapped her hands. “Yes, I want to pull all the strings off.”

Y/N held her daughter’s hand as she hopped off of Dean’s lap, and then leaned forward to kiss Dean slowly.

“Ew.” Hope said, shielding her eyes as her sister had.

Y/N smiled against Dean’s lips and whispered to him. “Go talk to your daughter.”

Dean nodded and stood up, bending to kiss Hope’s shiny chestnut curls on the crown of her head. “Hey, promise me something short one.” He said, continuing when she looked up at him. “Promise you’ll take a really long time to grow up, okay?”

She smiled at him, cheeks round and rosy. “Okay, daddy.”

He winked at Y/N who smiled indulgently. “She promises.”

***

Dean instinctively knew where he’d find his oldest child. She coped with stress and frustration the same way he did, the way he’d taught her to.

He walked through the door of the garage and sure enough, there was Emma, wearing old, blue coveralls that were too big for her, and bent over the hood of the little Chevy hatchback that sat next to the Impala. He knew she heard him come in, but she didn’t say anything, just kept working.

Dean hopped up on Baby’s hood and waited for her to be ready to talk. Eventually, she caved and looked over at him, her face slightly shuttered and a little hard to read. “Hi.” She said simply.

He smiled at her. “Hey kiddo.” He nodded at the open hood she was under. “How are things looking? Still need a new oil pan?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I replaced that last week. Risa found me one in the back of the storage shed.”

“Good.” Dean said. They were both quiet as Emma leaned back in and continued working.

After a moment she cleared her throat. “Looks like I’m gonna need new brake pads though. Think we could go to Lowry’s and see what he’s got.” She asked, referring to a guy in Brisbane who collected car parts and often traded with them.

“Sure. I’ll be busy for the next day or so. But we can go after that. One day after school?” He asked.

Emma nodded and stood up, wiping her hands on the rag she had stuffed in her pocket. She was quiet as she slammed the hood closed and then stepped out of the coveralls and hung them up on the hook beside the door.

She wandered over to Baby and hoisted herself up beside Dean on the hood. After a moment she leaned her head onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Dad. I’m glad you’re home.”

Dean lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer, and then wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, squeezing her into his side.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, baby. Apparently I’ve been unconsciously scaring away the tons of boys who would otherwise be beating down our door. Though, if I’m being completely truthful, it probably wasn’t entirely unconscious. Cause I just know not a one of them is gonna be good enough for you.”

Emma chuckled. “I don’t think it’s tons of boys, Daddy. And I’m not interested in a bunch of boys. I’m interested in Jeffery. And I really do want you to meet him. I think if you give him a chance you’d like him. He’s really sweet and funny and just…” She sighed. “I just like him.”

Dean squeezed her again and felt his chest constrict with love and bittersweet memories, remembering how she used to crawl into his lap and let him read her to sleep. Those days were long gone, but she was still that little girl to him and she probably always would be. But he knew she was growing up and he needed to loosen his grip, at least a little.

So he sighed now and nodded. “Okay, kiddo. If you like him, I’m sure I’ll like him too. So, invite him over for dinner one evening and I swear to keep my questions to a minimum and be perfectly cordial.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t know if cordial is ever a word I’d use to describe you, Dad. Let’s just try to leave out the death stares.”

***

That evening after dinner, it was Gabe and Hope’s turn to do dishes. Gabriel washed and Hope dried with some assistance from Dean. As they were finishing up, Keisha and Julianne showed up on their doorstep asking if Emma was free to go for a walk around camp.

Y/N nodded when Emma looked to her for permission. “That’s fine. Be home before dark. Oh, here.” She said to the twins, grabbing a bag and passing it to them. “Take these home to your mom, it's the dress patterns she loaned me.”

Keisha went to take it, but Y/N pulled it back. “On second thought, nevermind. I’ll bring it to her tomorrow afternoon. Gives me a reason to visit and gossip.”

The girls all laughed and then waved as they headed out the door. Dean had to smile as they walked away, their high pitched voices and giggles floating back to them on a breeze. Some things hadn’t changed and he was grateful.

Gabe went to his room to read, since he was housebound for the next while. Hope played with some well loved and worn out dolls for a little bit before they took her to her room and put her to bed. They tucked Gabe in not long after, and then took their coffee cups out onto their little front porch and sat in one of the big Adirondack chairs that Dean and Sam had built three years ago.

Y/N settled happily into Dean’s lap, her hands cupped around her warm mug. The late spring air was soft and warm, and the sounds of the camp drifted up the hill towards them. They listened contentedly for a little while as Clifford came out of the house and flopped down on Dean’s feet.

They talked about the kids and they talked about the Deerling camp; they talked about Sam, and Y/N admonished Dean for teasing him about Eileen.

“Be nice.” She scolded. “I hope he will bring her to dinner. If he likes her, I mean.”

They talked about anything and everything, and as the sun began to set, Emma came up the path and smiled as she saw her parents cuddled together in one chair. As much as she rolled her eyes and hid her face when they started getting kissy, she loved how much they loved each other. And she knew she’d never settle for anything less than what they had together.

She told them goodnight and went inside, Clifford rising slowly to follow her and sleep at the end of her bed as he did every night.

Soon the fireflies were buzzing loudly and the camp was getting quiet, so Dean stood up with Y/N still in his arms, leaving their coffee cups to sit on the porch until morning. She laughed as her husband carried her effortlessly into their bedroom.

He set her on her feet and locked the door before he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her to him, crushing her lips beneath his own. Y/N moaned softly and immediately pulled off his flannel shirt and yanked his t-shirt over his head so she could spread her hands across the wide expanse of his still beautifully muscled torso.

“God I missed you.” She breathed, even though it had only been one night. “I hate when you go away.”

He smiled against her skin as he stripped her down to her bra and panties. “Missed you too, sweetheart. Promise not to go anywhere ever again.”

Y/N laughed at his impossible promise as he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He continued kissing her as he crossed the room and lowered her to the bed. She wouldn’t let go of him and pulled him down on top of her.

Dean chuckled at her hold on him and then mouthed his way down her body, licking and nipping at her skin. Ten years later she still had the ability to make him instantly hard and aching for her.

They spent most of the night making up for the one they’d been apart. In the darkest part of the night they found light and life in each other’s arms and fell asleep knowing tomorrow would dawn bright and busy - filled with responsibilities, joy, love and most of all…

…hope.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean fan fic series #endverse

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