#otherwise I probably wouldn’t have known right away lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cyncerity · 2 months

Text

Holy fucking shit the Dad’s Troubles AU story?? That i’ve been teasing since January??? It’s finally done??????

this took so fucking long that i’m debating posting an alternate and an extended unedited version that’s how many times i’ve written and re-written this thing.

anyway without further ado, the posts you’ll need for the context of this story are here and here, and the art teaser is here (if you’ve been keeping up with the Dad’s Troubles AU since 2022 you probably don’t need the context lol, but it has been a while so they’re there for whoever needs a refresher)

@quotethemenevervore (sorry if that’s the wrong account to tag btw) you seemed very excited for this story so i figured i’d tag you lol

tw: soft, safe vore, panic attack ig???

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” “I know, but, c’mon…we have to tell him eventually.”

Charlie sat on Schlatt’s living room table, the human leaning his head on his palm to be at a closer level to the borrower he was talking to. This was the same conversation they’d been having on and off for months now: should Ted be let in on the secret that Charlie wasn’t human. Obviously, there was a clear answer for them: eventually. Now, when ‘eventually’ actually was…that was a different problem.

“Do I need to remind you what happened the first and only time you met him in person?” Schlatt asked, to which Charlie just groaned. “You have to bring up the fish thing every time, don’t you? Cause yeah, I remember almost drowning, thank you very much.” “It’s more so the principle that he would throw you out a fuckin window, but you get my point. He clearly doesn’t see you as a person.” As much as Schlatt always hated to think about that, it was something him and Ted could never agree on. Ted was of the opinion that borrowers were basically just bipedal rats, and nothing Schlatt had done to convince him otherwise had worked. “But what if I changed that?” Charlie challenged, standing to pace the space in front of Schlatt. “He knows me, he’s known me for years. We’re friends, fuck, I’d say the three of us are best friends! There’s no way he’d just forget all of that the second he sees what height I am, right?” He finished, looking up at Schlatt with something akin to fear. Like he wanted Schlatt to tell him he was right, that it would all work out. But he couldn’t, because didn’t have an answer to what Ted would do. Schlatt sighed. “Honestly, I don’t kn-“

The doorknob to the apartment shook. It was locked, Schlatt always locked it when it was just him in the apartment. Schlatt and Charlie froze. Was Quackity trying to get in? Cause he wasn’t supposed to be home for a good few more hours, hence the door being locked. They were both absolutely silent, waiting for any confirmation that it was their mutual friend, until they heard a few utterances of cursing from behind the locked door.

“God fucking damnit, where are the keys Schlatt gave me-“

Ted.

~~~

Shit, shit. Schlatt had totally forgotten he gave Ted a space pair of keys for when he was visiting. Fuck, fuck, what the fuck should he do with Charlie?

He heard the key turn in the lock.

All of the borrower tunnels were too far away for the remaining few seconds he had till Ted walked in. There’d be no disguising that he was talking to Charlie. Charlie, who was part of a species that Ted believed couldn’t talk. He wouldn’t be able to explain himself.

He heard a creak as the door started to open.

Did he have a pocket? Shit, no, he had a crew neck and the pockets on his jeans were too tight and small for Charlie to fit in. There was only one other option he could think of. Fuck. Charlie, like him, had been frozen from shock this whole time. That would probably make this easier. He quickly lowered himself down and tried to grab Charlie to shove him in his mouth.

“Schlatt!” He heard Ted shout, and suddenly, without warning, Charlie moved.

Frantically, almost blindly running at him with no warning and accidentally falling past his hand and into his mouth, and everything went to shit.

~~~

Oh no. Speak of the devil. Ted. God dammit, why did he have to show up right when he and Schlatt were talking about him. And why did Schlatt even give him a spare key?

He heard the key turn in the lock.

Ok, fuck, how the fuck was he supposed to get out of this one? He didn’t have time to run, he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that. And contrary to how often he joked about the window and the almost-getting-eaten-by-a-fish thing, it was actually a pretty horrifying experience that he would not like to relive, thank you very much.

He heard a creak as the door started to open.

Shit, what should he do? What could he do?! He was out in the open, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide unless Schlatt had pockets or- wait. Schlatt. Schlatt…himself could be a place to hide. He’d seen Tubbo do it, that had been a long fuckin conversation after walking in on that, but it was safe. Probably a hell of a lot safer than being anywhere near Ted. But was he really willing to end up down his best friends throat?

“Schlatt!” He heard Ted shout and, apparently, he was.

“Schlatt?” Ted asked.

Charlie ran full speed into something jarringly warm and wet. The change in…well, everything environmentally made him yell, as any and all light was suddenly stripped from him.

The door clicked closed, Ted was in the room with them. Thank god they’d been facing away from the door.

Charlie felt himself be thrown backward in the dark space, losing his balance as one of his legs caught in something that started to pull him down.

Oh fuck, that was weird, but it was fine. He wanted this, he decided to do this, he…he was getting eaten. It’s fine. This is fine, it’s Schlatt for fucks sake. And yet, the part of his brain that hadn’t quite registered that the “getting eaten” thing was actually his plan, told him to fight, to try and free his leg from the throat that threatened to drag him deeper into the giant.

“Are you ok, man?” Charlie heard Ted ask from beyond the closed teeth around him. He was getting closer.

The darkest split a bit, and something else entered the mouth with him for a moment. He couldn’t see well enough through his spit covered glasses and small amount of light what they were, but he guessed pretty immediately when they got a grip of his arms and started to shove him down the esophagus. Fingers. Schlatt pinned Charlie’s arms at his sides and shoved more of him down.

The fingers retracted from the mouth when only his legs remained out of the throat. He felt the environment around him change and realized what was happening. His struggling increased tenfold, kicking desperately at the teeth and gums around him to no avail, as the giant swallowed one last time and sent him fully into the throat.

~~~~~

“Schlatt!” Ted yelled, running over to see Schlatt holding his throat, unable to breathe. Ted went to wrap his arms around him to perform the heimlich, but Schlatt was thankfully aware enough to push him away at the last second. Unfortunately, that move made him send himself crashing onto the floor. Ted rushed over again, worry plastered on his face as Schlatt held up a hand, signaling to stop. So, Ted did just that, running off to do god knows what. Schlatt, meanwhile, could feel Charlie get stuck just a short way before he stopped blocking his windpipe. Schlatt pushed at his throat, swallowing frantically, pounding at his chest, anything to get Charlie down faster. He didn’t realize just how much…bigger Charlie was than his son. Charlie was a grown man, and tall by borrower standards, too. Compare that to Tubbo who was short by all standards and Schlatt realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Charlie seemed to be helping it go faster somewhat by squirming his way down, though he doubted it was on purpose. Though maybe this was a thought he could have later since at the moment he was very focused on not choking and dying on his best friend.

It was when Schlatt was starting to black out that Ted came back with a glass of water, not even giving Schlatt time to process it before forcefully opening his mouth and pouring it down his throat, giving Schlatt the ability to swallow Charlie down farther and finally unblock him from his windpipe. Schlatt fell to the ground again with a gasp, trying to drag as much air into his lungs as humanely possible. He placed a hand on his chest as he finally, fucking finally, felt Charlie make his way closer towards the stomach. He dissolved into a coughing fit on the floor, Ted slowly lowering himself to sit next to him. Schlatt wasn’t even gonna try to explain anything to Ted yet, though. Not until Charlie ended up where he needed to be and he could stop worrying.

Immediately he felt a flurry of movement from his stomach, limbs flailing and Charlie trying to get accustomed to whatever it was like in there. Schlatt squeezed his stomach in so Charlie wouldn’t trigger something audible that he’d have to make an excuse over, but quickly found that the borrower’s whole frame was shaking.

Schlatt only had time to worry for a second before he was snapped out of his shock with a hand clap onto his shoulder, snapping his attention back to what was happening on the outside. “Schlatt, you with me, man?” “..Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine.” Right, he had an act to put on for Ted. “What the fuck were you choking on?” “Oh nothing, so, what brings you here?” Schlatt asked, trying to redirect the conversation. He didn’t know what excuse he would use for that shit show if he needed one, but he doubted he’d be able to convincingly lie to Ted about it with Charlie right there listening. But it wasn’t like he could say the truth. ‘Sorry about that Ted, I was choking on our third podcast member because he’s scared you’ll hurt him but don’t worry, he’s in my stomach now so he’s safe from, again, exclusively you.’

Yeah, no.

“Well, I came over to surprise you. Didn’t think you’d almost die or something.” Ted said, and Schlatt chuckled a bit in response. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect anyone to break into my apartment.” Schlatt stood, silently thankful for Ted helping him up as he adjusted to the added weight in his middle. He felt Charlie sway a bit as he stood, though there was significantly less fighting back on Charlie’s end at the movement. Thank fuck. “You down here for any reason other than to scare me half to death?” Schlatt said, pacing over to his fridge under the guise of grabbing food while he silently felt for any signal from Charlie now that his back was turned to Ted. “Yeah, actually.” Ted said, leaning against the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.

“…Schlatt?” Ted questioned, again snapping Schlatt out of his worries again. Right. The act. “Sorry, must’ve zoned out, what were you saying?” “I was saying I’m here for a reason. You’re not the only one of my friends in the area, but surprise! I’m staying down here for a few months to do content!” Ted looked to Schlatt expectantly, and Schlatt did his best to be happy for Ted, but he was sure his smile looked forced. He didn’t know if it was his worry for Charlie or just the direction the conversation was headed in, but he had a sinking feeling in his gut that he knew wasn’t Charlie’s fault. He did his best to ignore it. “That’s great, man! Sounds like it’ll be fun.” “That’s the goal.” Ted answered. “Do a couple collab videos, some vlogs, it’ll be sick-” “Mhm.” Schlatt responded while Ted continued talking, tapping out the morse again. And again. And again for good measure. If this wouldn’t get Charlie to do something, anything, then something was wrong. He waited a few seconds before beginning the pattern again with more force, starting to wonder if Charlie had just passed out at that point, until-

Something. An arm or leg or something kicking out where he’d been pressing in, hard, and he recoiled his hand away immediately with a wince of pain. Charlie packed way more of a punch than Tubbo or Tommy did, that’s for damn sure. He wanted to try communication again, though he was smart enough to realize that his physical gestures were not appreciated in the slightest. So he did nothing and waited. He waited a few seconds, maybe even a few minutes, until, finally…he felt two weak taps back.

~~~

Falling headfirst into the pitch black stomach of his best friend was about as pleasant as Charlie expected it would be.

Immediately almost all of his senses were absolutely fucked, the wetness and humidity of the air around him clinging to his skin and fogging his glasses. The spongey walls around him gave way far too easily for him to properly get his balance, and he kept face planting into the bottom of the organ every time he tried to right himself. There was also liquid up to his waist (water, spit, he didn’t know, nor did he care to at the moment) which he kept almost fucking drowning himself in since he couldn’t stay upright long enough or see enough to figure out which way was up, down, forwards, backwards-

The walls suddenly pressed in on him, making Charlie squeak in fear almost inaudibly, pinning him in place thankfully right side up and out of the water, and he realized he was shaking. Why was he shaking? He was fine, he knew that, he knew that, why was he scared? He trusted Schlatt, this wasn’t even the human’s idea, it was his, he chose this.

The walls slowly began to release their hold on him as his thoughts started to suffocate him more than the stomach could ever.

Why, why the fuck was this so awful for him? He was safe, safe, he knew it was safe, he’d seen this happen a hundred times.

The walls began to press in periodically.

He’d willingly hung out with Schlatt and Quackity both when he knew that they had Tubbo inside. Tubbo was fine then, so he’s fine now. Science. Logic. He was safe. He wasn’t food. He wasn’t food.

short short long

Schlatt cared, cared enough about his safety to let him use his body as a barrier between him and someone who could hurt him. Would hurt him. His body. His giant, dangerous body that had been able to swallow him. His body that could kill him at any moment.

long long long

But he wouldn’t. Schlatt cared. He wasn’t food. He was safe. He was safe. Safe within his human friend. Safe from his human friend. Guarded inside a creature that could kill him from a creature that could kill him.

long short long

But his human friend wouldn’t kill him. But his human friend would, almost did, kill him.

The walls were still closing in on him.

Fuck. No, wrong human, Schlatt wants to protect him. Schlatt is his friend. Ted is his friend, their friend.

The walls are closing in periodically. Again and again.

He’s suffocating.

Ted would, almost did, kill him. He almost drowned, was almost swallowed, if it hadn’t been for Schlatt. He was almost swallowed. He was almost swallowed. He was swallowed. He was swallowed, he had been swallowed-

Something pressed in on the stomach again hard enough to force the wall to make contact with him, and in his hysterics Charlie kicked it as hard as he could manage, hearing a sharp hiss of pain be sucked into the lungs above him. Fuck. No, fuck, what is he doing? This is Schlatt. Schlatt. Schlatt, who’s never been anything but good to him, who’s treated him with nothing but respect despite what he was, who raised a borrower child and did a damn good job of it, too. Why…why was he acting like this? He trusts Schlatt, he’s literally thrown his life into Schlatt’s hands more times than he can count, why…why was this so much more difficult?

Fuck, focus on the task at hand. Deep breaths. 4, 7, 8. Again, 4, 7, 8. Charlie forced himself to think of the things around him. Liquid, heat, the weird spongey walls that had been caving in. There’s a good place to start. With the fog of his hysteria clearing, Charlie tried to remember what the pattern of the walls pressing in was. Short short long…long long long…long short long. Charlie let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “You ok?” Schlatt had been asking. He suddenly felt a little bit dumb for his panicked state earlier.

Struggling to push himself to what he was now sure was the front of the stomach with his legs still weak from fear, he settled himself against the wall to better hear exactly what was going on outside. Finally, he answered Schlatt’s question by tapping back twice, letting the human know he was ok, even if the shaking hadn’t quite let up yet. He laughed to himself again, this time more genuinely, as he heard the immediate sigh of relief from above him.

Yeah, he was sure he was safe.

~~~

Charlie was ok. Holy fuck, Schlatt could have cried with relief. He didn’t hurt his best friend, that was a weight off his shoulders. “I did want to talk with you about something though, just to get your opinion on it.” “Sure, what’s up man?” Schlatt said, attention fully on Ted for the first time in this whole conversation. “It’s about Charlie.”

Schlatt froze, and he could feel Charlie tense up. “Uh…what about him?” “I just, i don’t know…it’s hard to explain.” Ted frustratedly motioned with his hands and tried to explain more before sighing. “Did i do something wrong?” Ted said, a genuine look of confusion and hurt in his eyes. “Everytime we talk, it’s fine. We’re friends, and we have been for a while, and I know he’s on the same page as me. But any time I ask him anything vaguely personal, even if it’s just shit like his hair color or mcdonald’s order or fucking anything, it’s like we’re back to being strangers. Like I don’t have the right as his friend to know shit like that. The only thing I know about him is his first name and honestly? It wouldn’t even bother me if he wasn’t so close with you.” Schlatt hadn’t expected that, and from what he could tell of Charlie relaxing and pressing closer into the front wall of his stomach to hear more, he hadn’t expected it either. “Ted, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…well, for one, Charlie has known me for a lot longer than he’s known you. Of course he’s more comfortable with me. But it’s not that he doesn’t trust you or anything. I promise he considers you one of his best friends. Even when it’s just us talking, he’s never said anything about you that would imply anything else.” “It’s not that I don’t believe that, but I just…sorry, maybe I’m being selfish here. If he doesn’t want to meet me it’s not my business to pry, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently.” Ted finished, staring down at his hands. Schlatt…wasn’t sure where to go from there. He felt horrible for keeping such a massive secret from one of his oldest friends, especially about something that’d clearly been causing so much inner turmoil, but he couldn’t betray Charlie like that.

“Schlatt, can you hear me?” Charlie suddenly interjected. Schlatt discreetly tapped his stomach twice for confirmation and Charlie continued. “Ok, then i’m gonna need you to repeat after me, got it?” Schlatt tried not to let the confusion he felt read on his face for Ted to see, but he tapped twice again anyway. He sat in silence for a few seconds before Charlie took a deep breath and started talking.

“But, y’know, Charlie and I were talking about doing something with the podcast soon. We were gonna bring it up to you later, but since you’re in town we could move it up.” Schlatt repeated, and Ted looked up, puzzled. “What were you thinking?” Charlie paused again breathing deeply, though Schlatt could feel his tail swaying in anxiety. However, when he finally spoke up, his voice read nothing but confidence. “We were thinking we could do a few in person recordings.”

Schlatt froze. Had Charlie said what he thought he said? No way in hell was he serious. “Repeat it, Schlatt. I’ve thought it through, i mean it.” Holy shit he was serious. And so, he repeated. God, he wished that Charlie had been able to see the look of utter shock on Ted’s face. “You’re joking.” He said, and Schlatt shook his head while waiting for the next prompt. “Charlie wants to meet you, he’s just…afraid he won’t live up to your expectations.” Schlatt repeated, and Ted scoffed. “Please, that’s the least he should be concerned about. At this point the guy could be a serial killer and I’d still be thrilled to meet him.” Schlatt could tell when the truth hit him fully, because Ted’s expression brightened tenfold. He looked like he’d just won the lottery. “I just, I can’t believe it! Holy shit, I’m gonna meet the Charlie Slimecicle!” “Yeah, me either.” Charlie sighed and Schlatt repeated, though he said it for both of them.

After some more casual conversation about Ted’s plans and ideas for the newly decided live podcast recording, Ted finally said goodbye, promising to let Charlie know how excited he was. Schlatt let out a breath of relief he didn’t even know he was holding when Ted shut the door behind him. He locked it immediately and turned to lean back against the door. “Holy shit that was stressful.” “You’re telling me.”

Schlatt facepalmed as the weight of what he’d just signed on to doing hit him, sliding his way down the door into a sitting position. Charlie felt his stomach drop at the action as well. “Sooo…” Charlie started, lightly kicking at the wall in front of him. “This is weird.” “Very.”

Silence.

“Are you ok?” “Huh?” “Are you ok.” Schlatt repeated. “…yes.” Charlie answered,not exactly confidently, but surely. “I am now, at least. I just…panicked. It’s fucking weird in here and I just- it just took me a bit to handle it, I think. To get over myself cause I know it’s safe and I trust you. It’s just that the idea of getting eaten has been drilled into my head as ‘horrifying and deadly’ for so long that I just lost it for a bit. Fun part of being raised by a traditional colony, am I right? Sorry for kicking you, by the way.” “Don’t worry about that, man.” Schlatt responded, lightly pressing in on his stomach as if asking Charlie if he was ok with contact now. When he didn’t get a negative response from Charlie, he pressed a bit harder and began rubbing where he felt his friend. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling like right now. I mean, getting swallowed whole? By a creature over ten times bigger than you? That sounds downright fuckin terrifying. That’s some hollywood horror movie bullshit. I don’t even want to imagine what me choking on you felt like from your point of view. I have the easy job, you got eaten alive, you have every right to have panicked. But…I am glad you trust me that much.” “Thanks, cause I do. And for the record; i’m feeling wet. Very wet and sticky and I can just tell that my fucking glasses are fogged up even though it’s dark enough that i shouldn’t care, but i do.” Charlie complained, making Schlatt laugh.

More awkward silence.

“Why the fuck did you do that??” Schlatt asked suddenly, and Charlie groaned, pushing his glasses into his face with the heels of his palms. Despite the lack of clarification, he knew exactly what Schlatt was asking about. “I don’t know, dude, I panicked! I just…” Charlie sighed, dropping his hands. “He deserves to know. And no better time than the present, I guess. Besides, I have actually been thinking about it. Maybe if he takes it well, we can make it public and some fans will be able to see that we borrowers aren’t what they think we are.” “And if he doesn’t?” “I…I don’t know.” Charlie admitted. “I want to think that he’ll try to change how he thinks of me for the sake of our friendship, but I truly just don’t know.”

“Well, I’m behind you, whatever happens.” Schlatt said. Charlie smiled. “I know.” he answered, confident and happy in knowing that he truly did believe that.

#OH MY GOD ITS DONE #YIPPEE #THIS IS MAYBE THE MOST DIFFICULT TIME IVE HAD WRITING ANYTHING #i’m so glad this is done lol #cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #dad’s troubles au #cynwrites #tiny!charlie #tiny!slimecicle #giant!schlatt #giant!ted #soft vore #safe vore #g/t vore #tw vore

31 notes · View notes

wonwoosthetic · 10 months

Note

mtl to drop hints on their socials that they were on a date ( I forgot the word but it’s like subtle but it’s also not lol )

I truly love being as delusional as possible and writing these, while also facing the truth with my own biases🥲

Most

1. Hoshi: “subtle but it’s also not”, but scratch the subtle. What about all his dates with Lee Suhyeok? He’s loud and proud about where he goes out on dates and shows it off FORE SURE

2. Seungcheol: do I even have to say anything? All of these boyfriend pics of him in restaurants? Yeah. Exactly. Dude ain’t sly about it. If this man can have an almost perfect lovestagram with Jeonghan, you better bet he’s gonna go all out for a significant other

3. Mingyu: I know I’m probably being a bit too predictable, BUT COME ON. You cannot tell me this man wouldn’t be posting about every date left and right. He might even drop a little peak like your shoes next to him or like a second shadow that you can see in a picture

4. Joshua: He’d definitely do it, but it wouldn’t be very obvious like a restaurant, but about a cozy date at home with a movie on in the background. The movie would be so obviously romantic though

5. Dino: He wants to show you, but not too obviously, so he’d also do the post about you two doing something more “casual” like taking a walk, but then he would take pictures at a spot that is known to be popular for couples

6. Dokyeom: His would be too aesthetically pleasing, so the attention wouldn’t be on the post itself but much more on his outfit and pose. After a bit fans would take a look at the background and notice just a little hint about those pictures being taken during a date

7. Jeonghan: if this man does it with Seungcheol, he would also do it with a partner, you cannot convince me otherwise. But he wouldn’t do it just like that, you’d have to post something first

8. Seungkwan: he would definitely ask you to take pictures of him during the date, which would be at like a romantic restaurant or at the Han River or something like that, so that would give it away

9. Vernon: either he’d post something about the date and not realise how obvious and not subtle it was or he would post the most obvious date thing ever but no one would realise

10. Wonwoo: meh… he might post something, but only because you told him it would be cute if your posts matched. He prefers to post something that really wouldn’t hint towards a date

11. Jun: he would take a lot of pictures, but post them like a month later, and then they would be only the pics you took of him, and none of the ones he took of the date itself, so they’re really just normal pictures for his feed

12. Minghao: He understands that it would be cute and all but why would he want anyone to know where the two of you were? That’s private for him. He would post really aesthetic pics though that he took of the museum you visited

13. Woozi: … his Instagram is literally just his LinkedIn profile, no way he would ruin that aesthetic, I’m sorry

Least

#seventeen #imagines #x reader #mtl #most to least likely #fluff #asks #request

62 notes · View notes

cheesecakethots · 1 year

Note

Ok but that chrollo/ johan ask got me thinking.... If you had to be kidnapped and spend the rest of your life with them, who'd you choose? Whose more bearable? Johan or chrollo??

Also i love your johan works. Dont feel discouragement from writing more on him becuz smtimes feels hard to write.

ahhh thank you!! no legit he is so hard to write, but i might reread monster soon to get my mind flowing

gosh in a totally fictional scenario where i wasn’t a lesbian, i have no clue.

(read more because this got long lol)

chrollo has the positives of he’s rich as shit, and wherever you stay is going to be glamorous. problem is you’ll probably have to move around a bunch, so you might be sticking to hotels. that might be so much more stressful, being kidnapped by this jackass and not even being able to settle in or get over jet lag before he tells you to pack your stuff, because he’s got another job on the other side of the world.

johan drifted from house to house during the show/manga, and didn’t stay put for long. if you’re with him during that time, well it’s going to be nothing compared to the lavish lifestyle chrollo has. but, you’re definitely more likely to be able to escape from johan than chrollo. he’ll probably account for that, so let it be known he’ll have an eye on you 99% of the time.

chrollo & johan give off that similar, gentlemanly manipulative vibe.

chrollo is definitely more overt with it, though. you could maybe call that a positive, because you’re less likely to fall for it, but it’s definitely more aggravating. you could be playing up a little, pushing him away, shouting, trying to run, and he’ll just say something like “hm. you’re right, dear. maybe we should visit your parents. i would certainly love to introduce myself to them properly.” and boom you shut your mouth at the clear threat in his otherwise monotone voice. i’m not sure if he’d actually go through with it, but neither are you. maybe don’t try and find out.

johan, on the other hand, is generally less willing to be so manipulative with you. i feel if he had a connection with someone other than anna for the first time in his life, someone who made him feel less of a monster and more whole, he wouldn’t want to treat them as he treats everyone else. manipulating you so overtly would make him feel like a monster again and definitely would hurt his feelings quite a bit.

buuut, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it at all.

johan has been manipulating and moulding people since he was a very young boy. it might be something he just sometimes does without realising. maybe he’ll mention things he knows you like in an effort to strike up conversations with you, and to make you like him more. maybe he’ll mention sad things that happened in your life, before he took you away. stuff like that, so nothing really on chrollo’s level. but, i would still say it sucks, because you’re more likely to become accepting and even… loving to a degree. you can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

i don’t think chrollo would physically punish you for running, as he wants to keep up that gentlemanly facade. don’t push him too far, you don’t want to see what’ll happen if he decides to drop it. he’s faster and stronger than you will ever be, so one second you could be shouting, screaming and hitting at the blank expression on his face, and the next cradling a broken wrist while he tuts and coos at you. don’t test it.

johan would NEVERRR physically hurt his darling. worst would be using maybe a needle to knock them out, but he’d feel bad about it. i don’t think he could bring himself to hurt your family or friends, either. i’m not even sure he’d punish a darling at all. maybe more locks, but he’d feel like the monster he believes he is if he tied you down to a bed to keep you from leaving. he might forcibly hold you close for a bit, just to keep himself grounded.

overall, i actually don’t know. johan seems like the better answer, but the idea of actually feeling bad for him or eventually loving him makes me feel >:/. not sure if i would be able to refrain from screaming into a pillow or punching myself unconscious if i had to deal with chrollo, though. (he’s a bastard. i love him).

i guess at least when johan gets you flowers or something you like, it’s for your enjoyment alone. when chrollo does it, sure, it’s nice to see you happy… but it’s mainly to make you like him a little more or prove to you (and himself) that you can be happy with him.

both are definitely better choices than illumi, though. fuck that.

#yandere #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yanderecore #yandere chrollo #yandere johan liebert #yandere johan #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh #yandere monster #needles #tw needles #tw injections #tw bone breaking #tw violence #let me know if i missed any tws pls i think i got them all

79 notes · View notes

eijirousbestie · 1 year

Note

You are literally the only one I’m reading for when’s it’s comes to bakugou fics I really hate when people put him completely out of character and so soft and fluffy we all know that’s not the bakugou we know i feel like he would not be in a relationship with anyone that’s easily he would gave you the longest time to actually trust you and put you as someone he can respect and welcome into his life so he is definitely a Friends to lovers trope he also isn’t sexualy attracted to anyone it’s something he learnt recently and wouldn’t begin to break lines in a short time so he would probably take a long time to give all of him to you .

Omg bro you’re gonna make me cry tysm😭

And I completely agree, writing Bakugou’s character is pretty delicate to gage. He’s generally a cool, calm and collected personality type but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t show emotion. I think that’s where I try my best to write him well because I feel like if I voided him of too much emotion I may as well have written a rock LOL. I think I mentioned it before but he’s just such a regular degular teen with a bad attitude and a smartass mouth.

And I think that’s what Horikoshi was trying to capture when writing Bakugou. Just because I’m writing him in different scenarios doesn’t mean I have the right to fully throw away the character he originally created otherwise it’s not really them. Might as well be an oc at that point… And he’s not so dramatically written to where he’s just an angry asshole cuz he has to at least have some type of social ability for his classmates to stay near him and invite him to participate in hangouts.

Ahh man im getting off topic but yes, he’s not gonna be all lovey dovey and whatnot. He’s really just a teen tryna get in his bag😭 He ain’t got no time to dilly dally with nobody cuz if it ain’t about reaching his goals, he has no breath to waste. He just keeps it 100. He’s not a people pleaser so if he doesn’t like a mf he will make it known. I think he’s more of a “think with your head, not your heart” kinda dude. He’s very meticulous and I guess you could say he’s like an old soul.

Circling back to the other point you said, he for sure would take a minute to fully open up to someone and really consider them a friend. He’s not the easiest person to deal with so he’d be careful when trying to sort out who’s loyal and who’s not.

#he’s just an introvert with a loud mouth #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons #mha drabbles #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic

59 notes · View notes

redshoes-blues · 6 months

Text

I just know tomorrow’s Bad Batch episodes are going to hurt and probably break me lol. I say this every week but I’m scareddd! Final predictions before I go to bed?

We’ll probably find out who Clone X-2 is in the identity crisis episode, though I think the title could be a double-meaning that also refers to Omega being (probably) force sensitive and learning more about what that’s means for her futur. The identity crisis could also refer to Wolffe and his place in the Empire/questioning his place there? But yeah. Probably Clone X-2’s reveal. I hope because I’m sick of theorizing every week about who it is. I want answers!

As for who the mystery clone is, it’s clearly someone important/known, otherwise they wouldn’t make a big deal out of the who question.

Most likely? Cody, probably. He went AWOL, after all, and it would be angsty. I keep thinking of how Rex in Rebels says Cody’s name when he’s having a panic attack, and wondering why he’d say his name. I always thought maybe he watched Cody die. But I’d love to be wrong and have Cody actually be AWOL and on his way to find Obi-Wan.

Could be Tech, who I think most people seem to be theorizing. I’m not very sold on that one just based on how he died, but it could be him! I mean, Echo and Gregor both blew up. I’d need a good explanation of how he survived, though. I’ve also wondered if it could also be a Crosshair clone, which is based purely on the sniping skills lmao.

Craziest options? I’m kind of hoping for something shocking…like Dogma. Or some other clone whose face would be recognizable right away. One of my brothers suggested Mace Windu, which is completely hilarious, and maybe even crazier than me secretly hoping that they’ve brought Fives back from the dead.

I feel like the reveal will be at the end of the first episode and it’ll be a classic cliffhanger leading into the second episode, which will probably be when all hell breaks loose. Cue the attack on Pabu or some other angsty situation that we’ll be left on the edge about until next week.

Also. I swear to god, if they give Echo a bunch of development in one of these episodes only to kill him off in a couple weeks like they did with Tech, I’m gonna lose it even though I can smell his death from a mile away.

Yeah. I’m scared!

Also, since I watch this show with my brothers, I have to wait to watch it until they’re home from school so…that’s going to be absolute torture. Wish me luck! 😭

#I hope I get to check something off on my bingo sheet. I haven’t since like the third episode. very tragic #the bad batch #tbb predictions

2 notes · View notes

nobedofroses · 2 years

Text

Day 15: Mile High Club

pairing: Marcus Moreno x fem!reader

warnings: discussions of anxiety/flying phobia, some smooches, and an undoing of a belt lol

words: 813

a/n: this is not very spicy, but Marcus is sweet. also let’s pretend it’s a superhero-climate neutral type plane bc otherwise i do not endorse flying on private planes

Last, Full List, Next

🎃🎃🎃

Marcus hadn’t known that you were a nervous flier. You didn’t like to admit it to yourself, let alone anyone else. Each time you had to fly somewhere, you convinced yourself that it wouldn’t be as bad this time, that surely you were over your fear for good. The one flying anxiety meditation that you listened to in the airport would work its magic and when you heard the rumble of the plane starting to take off, you would be relaxed and able to breathe just like everyone else.

You were wrong. Even just as the plane began taxiing down the runway you were starting to breathe quicker and your pulse jumped up. Marcus had noticed right away and turned to face you more fully and see if you were okay, twisting in his seat which made his seatbelt loosen a little.

Glancing down at the movement, you tapped his arm repeatedly and said in a shaky voice, “Tighten your seatbelt, it’s not safe. And face forward, Marcus, we’re on a fucking supersonic plane or something, you need to follow the safety instructions.”

This babbling display of misdirected irritation was clearly due to anxiety and fear, and Marcus first did as you said and face forward while fixing his seatbelt. Then he carefully held out his hand towards you, palm up.

“Is it okay to hold my hand?” Marcus’ voice was gentle, not at all mocking, and you swallowed, looked down at his hand, and then moved yours on top of it.

Marcus intertwined his fingers with yours and gave your hand a soft squeeze that you returned with a much tighter, unrelenting one. In fact, squeezing his hand might have been the only thing that kept you sane until the plane had evened out and was at cruising altitude. That, and Marcus’ little reminders for you to breathe and murmurs telling you that you were being safe and that everything would be okay.

As the pilot made the announcement about elevation and the seat belt sign went off, you started to calm down. The worst parts of flying for you were the take off and landing. The actual flying probably wouldn’t have bothered you at all if it wasn’t immediately following your fear from the ascent and directly preceding the descent.

You loosened your grip on Marcus’ hand and your breathing along with your heart rate slowed down. Finally you were able to turn and look at Marcus, who was already looking intently at you.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, trying for a little smile.

“Sweet girl, there’s nothing to be sorry about, I just wish I knew beforehand,” Marcus told you, reaching up with his free hand to run the back of his finger over your cheek.

You felt your ears get hot and you looked down, “I thought it would be better this time.”

He moved his finger to your chin to tilt your face so you would look at him. When you did, he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Instantly, you felt a little bit better so when he pulled away, you leaned forward again and Marcus joined you in deepening the kiss. In seconds, you felt your stress begin melting away, no doubt replaced by the oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin that his lips on yours were creating.

When his teeth nipping at your lower lip made you moan, Marcus pulled away with a smile, remembering where the two of you were. You chased his lips yet again and Marcus gave you another peck, but that’s all.

“Sweet girl, we’re on a plane. I know we’re the only passengers today, but we’re not the only people,” he chided you gently.

“Marcus,” you whined a little, trying to entreat him to indulge you. “It’ll help me be more relaxed. It’s not like there are any flight attendants, it’s just the pilot and copilot.”

Marcus leaned closer and lowered his voice, “There are security cameras in case of enemy infiltration.”

You turned your head to whisper in his ear, “Cameras have metal in them.”

He was absolutely still for about five seconds and then you heard the faint sound of metallic whirring.

Suddenly Marcus was kissing you, much more fervently than before, his hands already finding their way to your body, on your waist and trying to pull you close. You only moved about half an inch before something stopped you.

Marcus looked down to see what it was, then smiled wryly, “This only works if you undo your seatbelt and get over here.”

Your seatbelt clinked open with one press and you got up to straddle him with a “yes, sir.”

As your legs settled on either side of his, you reached down to undo his seatbelt. And then your hands moved naturally to his belt. Might as well get that out of the way too.

🎃🎃🎃

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #blurb #nobedofroses #spooky smut 22

17 notes · View notes

keefwho · 1 year

Text

April 26 - 2023

8:17 AM

Okay straight up I hate how I’ve been feeling/acting lately. I’ll try to change my behavior today, whatever that means. Maybe I haven’t been very true to myself and that’s whats wrong. I’m not sure, all I know is I don’t feel very good.

11:30 AM

Holy fuck I hate myself lol.

2:37 PM

Well here I am having another episode. One that will end over time but I know I’m gonna be in a dark place for a little bit.

I feel alone and hopeless. For years I feel like my life has steadily been going downhill. Like I’ve desperately tried to hold onto everything I have but I lose things one by one until one day it’ll reach a breaking point and then it’s game over for me. People don’t care about me as much as I’d like, or at least I don’t always feel like they do. Probably because ultimately I’m a bad person to rely on no matter how hard I try. I feel destined to fail in everything I do. I struggle to find meaning in literally anything and the things I do find meaning in might just be coping mechanisms or otherwise unhealthy. I can’t even tell. All I can think to do is stick to my miserable schedule and wait for tiny moments of what I think is true happiness when I end up being able to gaslight myself into thinking I’m okay for a little bit.

3:11 PM

Part of my horny problem is not even knowing what I want to do. I don’t just want to orgasm, I want something conceptually intense. Thats why I started leaning into watersports. I just love the humiliation aspect of it, no nutting is required to get my fix off of it. A lot of things have gotten old to me, like I’ve gotten much pickier when it comes to how scenes I like are portrayed. I wish I could get over this problem and have an easier time enjoying what I used to. My current plan has been trying to delegate horny behavior to more specific times. I think being a porn artist has led me to constantly seeking the sexuality in situations like it’s my job. I don’t want to constantly idea generate because it ends up getting in the way of wholesome times and burns me out on concepts.

Another thing is how much more I used to enjoy doing things with other people. I erp’ed with a few people I wouldn’t have considered “close” and had fun, but that desire went away a long time ago. Partially because I always thought I was supposed to be giga horny and fucking around just to fit in. These days I like to save myself for more meaningful interactions which unfortunately results in less activity than I think I’d like. But there is no way around this.

This’ll probably stop being such a big deal when I stop blueballing myself and finally do something. I think it’s been about a week of keeping myself pent up for basically no reason but at this point I’d wanna end it with something good so I’m still being patient until I’m in the right mood.

8:26 PM

I am unlovable because I can’t even accept myself for who I am. I am alone because of myself. I will always be alone unless I can change.

Honestly I wish I could have an existential giga crisis that either results in me offing myself or developing a miraculous life changing perspective.

What have I ever done to deserve love anyways? Let down everyone I’ve ever known? Hence why I’m a friendless loser clinging onto to the few people that bare to put up with me. I don’t want to live knowing I will always end up with nobody.

12:09 AM

Well obviously today was shit. Getting all my work done didn’t even feel good in the end, just pointless because who cares about when I draw my own OC? I didn’t really care too either so it feels like a total waste.

I calmed down over the course of the evening but I’m still aware of my fundamental issues. Being inspired by what my friend is going through, I think I need a sort of change as well. I know how bad I am at hanging onto the past and how much it keeps me from moving forward. I more or less feel like I’m still meant to be living up to things that have long expired. For example, I still feel like I’m supposed to be a part of the TDS group and that I’m not allowed to move onto a different group. I feel like I used up my friend group slot and it cannot be replaced. I feel like that with friends I no longer talk to as well. I really need to move on from them. Yeah what we had was cool and maybe it would have been nice to salvage it but in most cases, things are far beyond that point. Ideally they’d turn into actual memories instead of current thoughts in my head. I’d have so much potential if I just didn’t consider them to still be relevant.

Nothing is “used up.” There is so much potential in anything I choose to do if only I can see it. But that’s the hard part.

0 notes

darling-i-read-it · 2 years

Text

Laugh

Joker x fem!reader x Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: violence, guns, fear, kind of a hostage situation. I am probably missing something lemme know

Author’s Note: this was inspired by the harleen comic which is fantastic if you haven’t read it already! I wanted to make both the Joker and Batman ambiguous to whoever you wanted to picture! I hope you all enjoy my impulsive joker fic lmao if you want a part 2 lemme knowwwww. okay back to requests lol

Summary: Bruce is always out doing god knows what. The night you get fed up and leave you get ambushed by the Joker in the streets of gotham

Genre: ????

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Bruce wasn’t home.

When was Bruce ever home, you wondered with dismay. Too often you came over to see him and it was just Alfred there. At this point, you saw him more than you saw Bruce. You should have known when you started a relationship with the infamous Bruce Wayne that you wouldn’t see him as much as you wanted to. You had tried so much to be understanding.

He just wasn’t there.

Ever.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” you muttered, running your hand through your hair. You hadn’t even bothered to get changed. Usually you waited until Bruce came back from business but you were slowly losing patience with him. Alfred could feel it in the way you stood up.

“Let me call you a car,” he offered.

“No, it’s alright. I’m really not that far away.” Alfred pursed his lips. He was still wearing his day clothes. You often wondered how much sleep he actually got. It was essentially superhuman.

“Master Bruce wouldn’t want you out walking this late.”

“Well then he should’ve come home,” you muttered. “Plus,” you said, scoffing. “The Bats out.” You pointed at the sky. The light was illuminating in the otherwise dark and gloomy night.

Alfred consistently had a hard time not telling you where Bruce actually was. But he knew it wasn’t his place to say. Bruce had to open up and tell you himself. But he could feel you slipping away every night, a little bit more as you reverted into yourself.

“Are you sure I can’t call you a car? For my sake.” You shook your head.

“I’m alright Alfred, really. Thank you.”

“Will I see you tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. You rubbed your eyes and grabbed your bag, shoving it in your pocket. You were so angry. Bruce claimed he loved you every time he saw you. He was loving and he was tender and then he was gone all over again. You were never sure when he was coming back. You would always be second to Wayne Enterprises.

It was cold outside. You felt the shiver on your skin. It felt like Gotham was never going to get warm in the summer but the second it did it would start to roast the trash in the alleyways and make the whole city smell. You walked quickly. You were starting to regret your anger denying Alfred. He had just been trying to help.

You glanced behind you in the darkness, trying to push Bruce out of your mind.

Still, you imagined him coming home to realize you weren’t there. How would he feel? Would he be angry? Unhappy? You imagined the distaste in his face in his stupid suit and clean pressed hair when he goes to bed alone. A part of you relished in it. He deserved to feel the way you consistently felt because of him.

How dare he. How dare he make you feel like this. You didn’t deserve it and he knew it. You deserve someone who would protect you and not let you go out at night like a crazy angry person like you were right now. You deserve someone who cared-

Bang!

You turned around quickly, almost falling over.

Bang! Bang!

Gunshots were ringing off the side of the building you were leaning against. You scrambled back, your heart racing in your ears as you tried to find the source of the noise.

Out of the natural Gotham smoke emerged the Joker himself. You recognized him instantly as though you had seen him in person before. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate with that gun he had in his hand. His laughter seemed to be echoing through the streets like he was bigger than he was. He could scale buildings with that laugh.

You slipped on your own shoe and fell over. Fear colored your face as you leaned against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t see you.

“He’s wasn’t very funny anyway!” the Joker exclaimed to a silhouette behind him. You breathed heavily but all you could hear was a funnel to his voice. Where was Batman when you needed him?

“Boss!”

You had been spotted but you couldn’t move. Someone was pointing a gun at you leisurely, gesturing at you. You put your hands flat against the wall behind you, trying to force yourself to get up. You needed to leave. You needed to run.

Joker walked up to you carefully, holding his gun to your forehead. You made no attempt to slip away. You felt the cool metal against your skin.

You stared up at him. He stared down at you.

His smile flickered into amusement. Like he wanted you to squirm and beg. You were silent, not even tears escaping your eyes. You just looked at him.

“It’s the cops!” one of his henchmen called. He dropped the gun to his side, leaving you completely unharmed. He looked at his men and then back down at you.

“Better scram sweetheart. Gothams full of dangerous people.” You pulled yourself up and nodded. He flashed you a smile and you were about to back away and finally run when there was a loud crash behind Joker. For some reason, the crash scared you more than he did.

Batman had arrived.

“Bats! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up,” Joker said, an insane smile on his face. “We aren’t gonna do this in front of the lady are we? Bad manners!”

You couldn’t feel yourself breathing anymore. The looming figure of the Batman was staring at you. You slinked behind the Joker like he would protect you. You didn’t have time to rationalize your morals at that moment. All you knew is that the Joker had not shot you and it sure as hell looked like Batman was here to fight.

“You don’t get to play knight in shining armor Joker,” Batman said, voice gravelly.

“Oh I didn’t plan to be. I just got distracted! You’re all dark and brooding Bats, kinda hard to miss ya!” You stood evenly on both feet, trying to decide if you needed to run or not. You looked towards the looming alleyway for a moment and then back at the antagonists. Joker pointed a gun at Batman.

You slid away and booked it.

You had run for what felt like forever when you realized you had no idea where you were going. You had just been trying to get away. You could feel your chest heaving now as you leaned against a wall, closing your eyes. You felt far from safe but there’s no way anyone could try and rob you after that! The world was cruel but not cruel enough.

You looked desperately at the street signs. You were lost. Every street looked the same in the dark.

Your phone rang but it sounded far away. You struggled to get it out of your pocket, tears pricking your eyes. You had almost just died!

“Y/N?”

“Bruce,” you breathed. You wanted to cry but held it together. Your anger from earlier was all but gone. You just wanted to go home and take a very long and very deserved shower.

“Where are you?” he sounded remarkably serious which made your anger come back a bit. You had just gone through that and Bruce had the audacity to be mad at you for leaving? You knew it wasn't’ rational, there was no way he could’ve known, but still.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

What you didn’t know is that Bruce was jumping across buildings to find you. He had left Joker, actually left him, to make sure you were safe. The clown would surely live to fight another day. When Bruce saw you his heart sank into his stomach. You shouldn’t have been there. He should’ve been with you, back home.

“What street signs do you see?”

You peaked around the alley corner just to run right into someone. Your phone dropped and toppled, cracking. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. A white hand grabbed your arm and moved you in front of them so that you were both against the alleyway corner.

“My phone,” you whispered to yourself, pathetically. You looked at the man and met the familiar eyes of Joker.

“Fancy running into you again!” he said, smiling comically large.

“What happened to Batman?”

“Fled! I know, crazy huh.” He peaked around the corner. He had lost his gun back there. All he had now was some smoke bombs and a knife. He was too far away from the compound to head back there in the dark now. He had to shelter for the night. He pulled his knife. “You got a place sweets?”

The world really was that cruel.

“I don’t even know where we are!” you whisper screamed.

“I’ll get you a GPS.” You grabbed your cracked phone. Bruce had hung up in his attempts to find you. You wished he was still on the phone.

Joker had no actual plans. That made it all the funnier!

You stumbled around the streets. At some point he had dropped the knife completely and just followed you. You got home in remarkably good timing. Your place was one bedroom and a mess but a part of you was glad to be in a familiar place with an unfamiliar person.

“You got a pullout?” he asked, laughing through his teeth.

“Why should I help you? You’re the Joker! Don’t you have people for this?” He rolled his eyes, gesturing with his hand. He sat down on your couch.

“If you can find an untapped phone in Gotham, be my guest!” he put his feet up, his hands behind his head. He really believed you weren’t gonna hurt him. His eyes were shut like he was cozying in for bed.

“What, should I offer you water or something?” you asked, your voice mixing with amazement, fear and anger.

“If you got one! I could use something sparkling. Long run after all!” He peeked one eye open and that smile returned.

“I could call the police on you.”

“Are you gonna? If I remember, I didn’t kill ya. I’d say you owed me one.” You didn’t even have a response to that.

“If I take a shower are you gonna kill me?” you deadpanned. Both his eyes opened up.

“No. Be my guest. I could use one myself.”

“You broke my phone.”

“Save me some hot water sweetheart.”

“Y/N.” He smiled brightly.

“Jay.”

And you left the room. Your phone was broken. You hadn’t signed up for any kind of home phone. Who even uses home phones anymore? Maybe Bruce would be by to apologize. Maybe he wouldn’t.

You stripped off your clothes and you took a shower.

When you got out Joker was on the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of water.

“That was a long shower.”

“It’s all yours,” you muttered.

“How will I know you won’t call the cops?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed in his face. He gave you a confused, slightly infuriated look.

“With what?”

“Point taken!” He slid off the counter, slamming the glass of water down. He walked up to you as you were ringing out the water in your hair onto the ground. He had to squeeze into the small hall that led to the bathroom. He made no attempt not to touch you. His chest brushed yours fully, his lanky hand on your elbow as he moved you aside. You stared at each other, directly into your eyes.

It felt kind of…electric.

He went in the bathroom. You had left him a towel.

“You have a good laugh!” he called through the muffled wall. You smiled a bit to yourself and looked down at your broken phone. You tossed it aside onto the counter. Bruce could worry a little more.

Part 2

DC Tag List: @karasong @elisaa-shelby, @alexxavicry, @demigirl-with-problems, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @caswinchester2000, @gxrlwithluv, @lov3vivian, @blkwayne, @wandering-poetess, @softiekayy, @navs-bhat@shownuflakes

#joker x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman x reader x joker #joker x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader x joker #joker x fem!reader x batman #dc imagines #joker imagines #batman imagines

570 notes · View notes

wonwoonlight · 3 years

Text

my way to you / jeon wonwoo | chapter 12

➝ Wonwoo x fem!Reader

➝ rich!AU // heir & heiress!AU // best friends to lovers // idiots to lovers lol // fluff // a lil drama bc why not // somewhat angsty // clicheeeee <3

➝ series warning: OC is Dense with a capital D, so many cliches but idc, implied sexual activities (but no actual smut scenes), eventual suggestive scenes, theyre both idiots, food, insecurity and self doubts, somewhat toxic parents, someone fainted like once, not always proofread am sorry ;-; that’s probably it? tell me if there’s more!

➝ A/N: we're here!!! the longest chapter of them all haha. but hopefully, this chapter manages to ease your /ahem/ concern from the previous chapters 🙈🙈 i didn't expect you guys would feel that strongly on chapter 11 so the amount feedbacks was surprising 😂 anyhow, enjoy! dont hesitate to drop by my ask and share your thoughts after<3

series masterlist

series playlist; but for the later part of the chapter (you'll know😉), especially 'If You Lovingly Call My Name'

“Hey, Cheol,” you softly call for your bodyguard, telling him to sit down next to you by the stool in your kitchen. “What do you think would happen if... I go missing for a few days?”

An alarm goes off through his entire body, but the sentimental look in your eyes tells him this is more than you simply wishing to run away. This is more than whatever he has accidentally witnessed tonight.

This is you, finally having had enough that you think it’s the only way to breathe even a little.

“I… don’t think it’s wise, Miss Yoon.”

You weakly chuckle at his answer, let alone at the formal way he’s addressing you, eyes zoned in the empty glass in front of you. He sees a single tear falling across your face, one that you don’t bother to wipe and another follows right afer.

“I think it wouldn’t really matter.”

Seungcheol stays silent at this even though he wants to convince you otherwise, well aware that you still have more to say.

“All I do is make problems. You, of all people, know this. And I do them purposely too most of the time,” you start, gripping the glass in your fingers as a weak laugh escapes your lips. The sound of your chuckle saddens him, if anything, and it’s taking him everything to not just cross the professional boundary and wipe the tears falling down your face. “Maybe if… if I go somewhere for a while it’d be better for everyone.”

“Miss Yoon...” he calls you in worry.

He’s always known you’re a little lonely inside, and despite your outgoing personality and your tendency to be reckless, they’re never ill-meaning. He’s suspected you just want attention and your parents never really look at you unless you’re out making troubles.

As far as he knows, there are only a handful of people who genuinely care for you, most of them he can name himself: Chaeyoung, Jeonghan, Shua, and perhaps that Soonyoung kid, too.

Seungcheol had been wary of you at first, because being the security detail for the daughter of a wealthy family mostly means he simply has to follow them shopping and partying, making sure they’re safe from any possible threat which includes the media.

But you’ve been more than that; though you do go shopping and partying from time to time, you’re never arrogant and he wouldn’t have thought you’re from a wealthy family if not for the way you dress and the facilities your parents throw your way. You’d force him and Mr. Lee to eat with you when you can, and sometimes he’d have to trail you through the night market looking for snacks while you pretend to buy too much so he’d eat something too.

You’ve always treated him like an older brother, something that none of his former clients ever do. On top of this, you remind him of his sister back home–which means he takes his job in making sure you’re safe even more seriously than he usually does.

And then there’s Jeon Wonwoo.

Seungcheol has only worked with you for one short year, but it’s crystal clear in his eyes how head over heels Wonwoo is for you. If there’s anyone that he’s sure would be devastated because of you missing, it’s him.

He doesn’t know if you actually don’t know about his feelings or if you’re just pretending not to notice, but Wonwoo probably cares about you more than he does himself, and even Choi Seungcheol, an outsider, knows that.

“If I tell you I want to go away,” you start again, your voice small but determined. Seungcheol knows that your mind is made no matter what he says. “Will you… come with me? I know I can’t possibly go by myself, and you’d get in trouble for letting me go away.”

Seungcheol has never seen you so small, and even though he technically works for your father and not for you, he knows his consciousness wouldn’t let him be if he doesn’t come with you. With everything that’s been going on, he figures you need time by yourself and at least you still consider bringing him with you instead of making a show of going missing out of nowhere.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he says instead, accepting that if he somehow gets fired for this, at least he knows he’s helping you when you need it most.

***

Wonwoo’s losing his mind, and it’s only after he sits down on the car that he finally sees a missed call from your father. He closes his eyes in contempt as he calls him back, breath heavy and fingers balled into fist as he listens to his words.

We don’t want to attract the media. He has said. Our private investigation team is looking for her and we’d appreciate it if you can help us find my daughter without letting it known to the public that she’s missing.

Your father has sounded distraught at least, but Wonwoo really can’t be bothered to be glad about that when you’re literally missing and he didn’t have any idea since a few minutes ago.

And they say you’ve presumably been missing since that party?

Fuck. If only he didn’t think of letting you be that night, who knows if you’ll still be in your place now?

He goes straight to your place after your father asks him to do so, having the decency of not breaking into your place and simply requests Wonwoo to do it on his behalf because he knows if there’s anyone who you’d trust with the pass to your condo, it’s Jeon Wonwoo.

It’s such a weird time to respect your privacy, but it’s only possible because he has asked for the CCTV record of the last you were seen and it’s clear that you went out of your condo by yourself, about thirty minutes after Seungcheol left, somewhere around dusk.

There was no reason to break into your condo just to see if you’re simply locking yourself in or if you’re really missing.

See if… if there’s anything there that might give us a lead of where she is.

And it’s when he’s arrived at your place that he loses the entirety of his sanity because it’s empty and he can tell that you haven’t been here for days. It’s then that the situation finally hits him.

You’re missing.

You’re really missing because there are dishes on your dishwasher that you haven’t put away, and you always nag Wonwoo about it everytime he doesn’t put back cleaned dishes to its shelf because it drives you crazy to see them sitting on the drying rack.

He sees an empty lowball glass on your kitchen island, another sign that you can’t possibly be here for the last few days because you don’t like things laying around.

He tries his best to calm down, and he spends a good fifteen minutes breathing in and out before he rakes his brain to see if there’s any place that you might leave to. You could be anywhere, though he knows some of the locations he’s thinking of wouldn’t be your choice for sanctuary.

You’re still in Korea though, that much is a fact, because your father has made sure that you haven’t left the country and he’s currently tracing domestic airlines and KTX for information just in case you book a ticket to get out of the city.

They can’t trace you by signal, because you left your phone at home and Wonwoo almost cries in frustration when it rings from your bedroom. He knows you have another one, one that only he and Shua knows of, but he’s afraid you’ll turn that one off too if he tries to call. He did try to send you a message, but it won’t deliver and he can only guess you turned it off even if you have it with you.

Seungcheol is unreachable too for some reason, but Wonwoo has been leaving messages just in case he'd reply.

He’s busy making calls to his staff, telling them to contact places that you frequently visit just in case any of their people have seen you there at some point in the last three days.

It’s about two hours later, his head is pounding and he’s still in your place just in case you’ll return home, when his phone pings with notification and Wonwoo’s immediately runs out of the house.

1 New Message from Choi Seungcheol

Seungcheol is worried.

You haven’t spoken since the both of you have arrived in this place, which was about three days ago.

The only time you talk to him is when he asks if you want to eat, which, most of the time, you say no to. He still makes sure that you’re eating a proper meal at least once a day though, and he’s glad that you still have it in you to know that you do need at least that much.

He’s unsure too if he’s here as your guard or as a friend. Either way, there’s very little he can do about your situation.

At first, he thinks you simply need the time and place to be by yourself, away from that life and anyone that might remind you of it. But he has never expected you’d close up and just… not do anything. You’re either in your room doing God knows what or you’re on the porch staring into nothing.

He has never seen you with your phone either, and he’s sure of this because you leave it on the coffee table since the day you arrived there and you’ve never touched it again. He doesn’t think it’s even turned on.

You’re so… empty.

Seungcheol has never been one to poke into people’s business, but the situation is getting gradually concerning that he can’t help but feel like he needs to interfere. He’s promised you that he won’t tell anyone, but if this keeps going on…

He keeps on seeing his sister in you, and he knows he wouldn’t want her to go through this alone if he can help. He takes this job as a bodyguard because it’s in his nature to want to be able to protect people. Right now, doing nothing would only mean the opposite of that.

It hurts to see you this way, so after a few days pass and you don’t seem like you’re going to get any better, Seungcheol decides it’s time to do something and he knows there’s only one person he can trust and will be able to help.

You sigh as the sun sets once again. The day seems to be moving both too fast and too slow at this place and you're not sure yet if it's a good thing or not. You don’t even realize you’ve been there for days.

You're currently in the lake house you personally own, one that your parents don't know you have because you purchased it for that very reason: to escape from them when the time calls for it. It’s only a little far off Seoul, near enough that you’re not exactly out of the city, but not too far away that you need to drive for hours.

The last time you came here to do exactly that was just a few months ago, and, frankly, you didn't expect to be returning here this quickly. You didn't even stay for that long that time, you just slept over for the night and pretended like nothing happened the next day.

You can't do that now.

Not when your parents' words and Wonwoo's mom's won't stop ringing in your head.

Are you that bad of a person?

You know you're not exactly an angel, but did you do something so wrong to deserve being called nothing but trouble? To be told that you should be ashamed?

It hurts even more because Wonwoo’s mom is a gentle soul, one that only complains once in a while and rarely has anything bad to say about other people. So to hear those words from her…

You exhale as you reach for the tissue to wipe your tears, already used to this after having gone through it for the past few days. It's a little exaggerating, but it feels like crying is the only thing you've been doing the past few days.

You hate this side of you, you really do. Because you're the type of person who's rarely bothered about practically anything, but you fall way too deep into a pit of negativity once you are.

You either care too much or not at all--there's no in between.

Seungcheol knocks on the door, and you hear the sound of the door opening a little before you glance at the clock to see it's time for dinner. You don't particularly feel like eating, even more after a crying episode. So you tell him you'll just eat later and he can eat first before he can even utter the question.

He doesn't say anything, but you hear the door softly closing behind you so you assume Seungcheol has, for once, easily accepted your unwillingness to eat dinner without asking one more time to see if you'll change your mind.

"How many meals have you skipped, exactly?"

The familiar voice startles you that you actually sit up and turn at once. You look at Wonwoo in shock, mouth a little ajar and failing to form actual words.

Wonwoo doesn't seem to care though, because, the next thing you know, he's made his way to you and you're pulled into his embrace.

He's shaking for some reason, and you haven't really registered what's happening but it's clear how worried Wonwoo is from the way he's holding you. You can feel the desperation from his grip, and it's Wonwoo’s muffled voice that snaps you back to reality.

"Do you know how worried I was--" he breathes heavily, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'll disappear into thin air. "How can you leave just like that?"

“I--”

“Why would you leave just like that?” he says once again, his voice shaky.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you finally manage to say, fingers gripping the material of his shirt. He’s still in his work attire, you realize at last, and you feel bad for most likely making him leave his work for you. “How--how did you know I'm here?”

He pulls away at your question, his hands cupping your face and his eyes go through so much emotions in the span of seconds that you’re not sure what he’s thinking about. “Is that really important now? Why… why did you even leave?”

You flinch at your name, always feeling like you mess up big time everytime he calls you by your name instead of the usual nicknames he uses to call you.

“Sorry, I just… I… need time to think by myself.”

“And you couldn’t have told me?” He doesn’t sound angry, which only makes you feel worse. He sounds confused and helpless--as if not getting why you’d do such thing.

And he really doesn’t; because you always tell him everytime you want to be alone, tell him that you’re not going to be reachable and that he shouldn’t worry.

“Is it because of the fight the other day?”

But this? Apparently you’ve been gone for the last three days and he only finds out literally this morning, which makes his brain go haywire that he’s practically dysfunctional after that even though he tries his best to keep it together.

Why would you go MIA for days? And you didn’t inform anyone--not him, not your cousins, not Chaeyoung. At least you’re sensible enough to bring Seungcheol with you, but all sorts of scenarios went through his mind for the whole day and none of them was able to comfort him in the slightest way.

“No…” you say with a small voice, a pitiful attempt to defend yourself. You were so upset that day, so angry and overrun with emotion that Wonwoo fell victim to it. You know it’s also because you’ve been conflicted about your feelings for him and it’s on you that you choose to avoid him instead of facing him head on and figure it out from there.

You regret yelling at him immediately after the words are out your mouth, the crestfallen look on his face as you call for Seungcheol to escort him out is still fresh in your mind. How dare you do that to him?

“I… um… I… Sorry, I know you’re busy and… yeah.”

“Stop lying to me,” he pleads, and you know he’s overwhelmed with his own emotion, that he’s upset and he’s worried. But you’re not sure how to tell him what’s bothering you when most of them roots back to him. His grip on you is desperate, and you can easily detect the frustration in his eyes. “Please don’t… don’t lie to me. When has it ever mattered that I’m busy?”

His tone hurts, and perhaps it’s also the fact that you’ve been holding it by yourself, that you know you need Wonwoo with you but you’re too wrapped up with your own feelings that you’d rather suffer by yourself; that you’ve been imagining yourself in the comfort of his arm that you’re denying yourself of, but the dam that you’ve been holding together finally breaks free the moment you hear those words from him.

Wonwoo panics when you suddenly sob into his shoulder, his arms circling your figure once again in comfort. He doesn’t quite get what you’re saying, but you’re shaking your head and your fingers are gripping clothes and the whole thing hurts.

He has never seen you this vulnerable, has never witnessed you break down so hard that you can’t even string words together and you can only cry and cry.

He doesn’t hesitate to remind you that he’s there, to firmly hold on to you, to tell you that he’s there and it’s okay even if you’re unable to say everything at once. Wonwoo feels your grip tightening and he's sure you’ll leave a mark on his shirt, but he doesn’t really care and he just wishes that there’s any way to make you feel better.

It’s quite some time until your sob turns into hiccups, and you’re looking down on your lap when you finally pull away from him. He hates seeing you this way, so small and so unsure like you feel bad for crying in front of him.

Wonwoo gently cups your face so you’ll meet his eyes, and he kind of regrets it because your eyes are red and there are traces of tears on your face. You look so vulnerable, so exhausted that it breaks his heart more than it already is.

He tries to say something--anything that might be able to comfort you, but now that he’s looking at you like this, he doesn’t know if there’d be words that would be able to comfort you at this point.

You’re looking at him uneasily; like you have something in your mind that you want to talk about but, at the same time, you’re holding yourself back from saying whatever it is that you want to say out loud.

“You don’t have to explain right now if you’re not ready,” he gently reminds you, his thumb caressing the side of your face. He sees you close your eyes and lean into his touch and, for a moment, it almost feels like you didn’t spend more than a week not talking to each other, like the fight didn’t happen--like it’s just one of your bad days and he’s just here to be there for you.

But then you open your eyes and there’s a glint that he’s never seen before. Wonwoo doesn’t know how long do you two spend just looking at each other; it might be seconds, it might be minutes--or it might be hours for all he knows, but he can’t quite tell what it is about the silence enveloping you both this time that feels different.

Is it because you haven’t spoken to each other during those times? Or is it because you literally broke down in front of him just a few minutes ago? Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar and Wonwoo is having a hard time reading you at this very moment.

You won’t move your eyes from his, and what he can easily tell is that you’re thinking real hard right now. You’re hesitating to do something and it takes everything in him not to just ask because he’s still unsure how to approach you like this.

After what feels like forever has passed, Wonwoo’s about to open his mouth and ask what’s bothering you when you move forward and press your lips against his. It’s barely even a kiss, because you pull away after one second and you look just as surprised as he is. But before either of you can think too much, Wonwoo refuses to waste a second to lean forward and kisses you properly this time.

His lips feel warm against yours, and even though you don’t feel fireworks or butterflies in your stomach, you feel your body buzzing with warmth that feels like home. Like you’ve found something that you didn’t know you were looking for.

One of his hands moves to your waist, the other firmly on the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss when he feels your hands on his shoulders, bodies pressed against each other like you can’t afford to physically be apart.

Your head is spinning, but, for once, you like it and you don’t wish it to end. Wonwoo pulls away to breathe, and it’s not one second later that his lips start wandering to your jaw and then the side of your neck. It’s the sound of your whine that gets him pulling away the second time, his heavy breath hitting your neck as he plants his forehead against your shoulder.

He tenses when he feels your fingers combing his hair and gently pushing his head closer to your neck, as if urging him to continue. “Don’t--I… I won’t be able to stop.”

Wonwoo pulls away when you don’t say anything, only to find you looking like you’re lost in a daze and he can only guess that he’s sprouting the same look; your breath is uneven, your lips are a little swollen, and it blows his mind that you’re looking like this because of him. You don’t say anything when he stares into your eyes, simply returns his gaze even though your face is already flushing from the intensity of it.

“I don’t remember asking you to stop,” you whisper at last, drunk in emotion.

So Wonwoo doesn’t.

Wonwoo wakes up later than usual, and it’s when he realizes he’s holding someone by his side that his consciousness jolts awake.

His eyes immediately soften at the sight of you, your fingers weakly gripping the side of his shirt and another tucked under your head as you’re still deep in sleep. It feels surreal, and he’s still convinced that it’s all a dream until you stir and scoot closer to him.

You hum in your sleep, and Wonwoo finds himself pulling you even closer until he can feel your breath against his neck.

It’s probably 8 in the morning, but his phone isn’t blasting yet with notifications so he can only imagine that Chan is already doing damage control before any damage could even occur. He holds back a proud huff at the thought of the younger guy, his fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair as he thinks about giving him the raise he deserves for putting up with all the canceled schedules and whatnot for the past few weeks.

Wonwoo doesn’t know how long he stays like that, with you plastered against him and his fingers waving through your hair, basking in the soft sound of your breath. After some time, he feels your fingers tighten and he looks down to find you waking up, blinking continuously like you’re trying to grasp the situation you’re in.

“Won?” Your sleepy voice greets him not long after, and he simply hums as he smiles down at you when you look up at him.

“Slept well?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your hand that was gripping his shirt moves to hug him instead. “You?”

He chuckles and drops a kiss on top of your head, still convinced that this is a long dream that’s too good to be true. “Never better. How are you feeling?”

You groan at the question, and Wonwoo laughs when you turn away from him but quickly pulls you back to his chest and kisses your exposed shoulder in the process. You shudder at the sudden warmth of his lips, a contrast to how cold the room is, and Wonwoo grins when he sees goosebumps across your arm.

“I told you to put on a long sleeved pajama, didn’t I?”

“Are you gonna nag me first thing in the morning?” you snicker, though you can’t help but smile so widely that your cheeks hurt.

“Really though,” he asks, his lips grazing your shoulder still. “How are you feeling?”

You huff before you turn around, and you feel so stupid for never realizing how beautiful Wonwoo is, especially with the sunlight hitting him just right like now. Perhaps it’s just your eyes filtered with infatuation, but you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen Wonwoo quite as beautiful as he looks like right now; with his hair all over the place and eyes so full of love that you could burst.

“We’ll talk about it later?” you ask quietly, not really wanting to talk about it as soon as you wake up. Wonwoo nods in understanding, hugs you tighter for a moment before pulling away then tells you to wash up and get ready for breakfast. “Are we going out?”

“Do you feel like going out?”

“Not really, no,” you bite your lip, mind still heavy with thoughts that have been weighing you down for days now.

At least you don’t have to think about your feelings towards the man in front of you anymore even though you’ll still have to talk about it–there’s no use in denying it after the event yesterday.

You half expected him to want to talk about it last night, but you don’t think you’d ever forget the way he simply told you to stay put as he went to the bathroom and ran the bath for you, how he helped you to the bathtub, told you to relax, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he left, telling you to call for him if you need help after you’re done.

And when you had stepped out of the bathroom, Wonwoo’s all washed up too, probably took a shower in the other bathroom, sitting on your bed with a comfy sweater and pajama pants that you suspect to be Seungcheol’s.

He looked up with a soft smile and patted the seat next to him. You naturally curled into his embrace, and Wonwoo didn’t even bring up the whole thing as he talked about everything that wasn’t related to whatever problem that had been bothering you; about your last holiday together to Athens, about the puppy that basically lives in Shua’s studio even though no one knows whose it is, about the possible locations you should go to for your next trip, and so on.

You didn’t even remember falling asleep even though it’s the best sleep you’ve had in months.

“Are you listening to me?” His voice snaps you back to reality, an amused smile greets you when your eyes focus back to him. Wonwoo chuckles at your dazed look, and he bites his lips hard to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

“Go shower, okay? I’ll prepare breakfast,” he says instead and pulls you to get up with him. Wonwoo pushes you to the bathroom before he gets ready himself using the empty bedroom next to yours.

He finishes before you do, so Wonwoo goes through the fridge to see if there’s any ingredients he can use to make breakfast for you. He finds nothing but bread though, which should be okay because you can’t eat a heavy meal for breakfast anyway.

He’s minding his own business, stirring his warm tea as he waits for the toaster to ping when he feels you hugging him from behind.

If he’s being honest, Wonwoo isn’t sure what to make of this side of you. You’ve always been touchy with people around you, leaning your head on someone’s shoulder, linking your arms with the other person’s, a kiss on the cheek as a greeting, and the list goes on. He guesses it might have to do with the fact that your parents have never been physically affectionate towards you, not even when you were a kid, so you take care of the lack of physical affection elsewhere.

But this… he can’t explain it, but it’s different. Perhaps he’s just blinded by his own affection too, at the thought that, most likely, you really do return his feelings, so he’s making things up in his head. But your hold feels different since last night, and, if he’s going to take it a notch higher, even the way you look at him now makes his heart flutter inside.

“Hungry yet?” He decides to break the silence. You tighten your arms at the question and Wonwoo feels you shaking your head against his back, whispering a little ‘not really’ though you’ll gladly eat anyway. It’s been quite some time since you actually feel like eating even though you’re not exactly hungry.

The both of you settle on the living room instead of the dinner table, one of his arms around your waist, your legs thrown over his lap and your head resting against his shoulder. You’re nibbling on your toast as Wonwoo looks around, wondering where Seungcheol might be.

“He probably went out for a run,” you say even before he asks, eyes staring into spaces like you’re in a trance. “Or for whatever it is he does for exercise.”

“Yeah?” he muses, kissing your head. He can’t stop doing that, he feels like, there’s just this sudden urge to keep on placing his lips upon you everytime you’re close to him and, fortunately for him, you’re always nearby. “Is that what he’s been doing?”

“He doesn’t… really need to protect me here,” you wince a little, feeling bad for the guy. You move away from him a little to put your half eaten meal back to its plate on the coffee table, and then settles back down on his lap as you play with the material of his hoodie. “Or, well, I guess he has to make sure I wouldn’t run away for real. But he already knows I just… umm… need space for myself and I promised I have no plans to step out of the house at all.”

You feel his arm twitch around you, and the slight change in the air tells you that the talk is coming. You take a deep breath and brace yourself to start talking about it, heart beating a little louder because, truthfully, you’re afraid. What if Wonwoo finally realizes how heavy of a luggage you are? What if he decides that he doesn’t want to stick around anymore after this? What if–

“Stop thinking so much,” he mumbles against your hair, and despite the fact that you know Wonwoo has always been able to read you like an open book, it still surprises you from time to time. “You don’t have to tell me now if you’re not ready.”

“No, I…” you hesitate, head full of all sorts of things that you can already feel a headache coming. You’re nervous to talk about it, but you know that Wonwoo deserves to know and you owe him that much after ignoring and avoiding him for so long. He’s your best friend before anything, for God's sake, most likely one of the best people in your life and you’re treating him like that just because you’re confused? “I want to… tell you about it. Just…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminds you, and you can feel his gaze even though you’re not even looking at him, your eyes casted down to his side, catching a glimpse of his hand awkwardly sitting near his thigh. You reach for his hand and play with his fingers, something that you only do when you’re extremely nervous–a habit that he’s always found endearing though he never says it out loud. “You can take your time.”

So you do.

You spend about fifteen minutes gathering your thoughts, absentmindedly meddling with his fingers and finding comfort in the pattern of his breath. And then you need another fifteen to gather your courage and start to talk about what’s happened.

You’re not sure where to begin, but one of the best things about Jeon Wonwoo is that he listens. Even when you’re messy and all over the place, your words barely make sense and you’re jumping through timelines, he listens.

He stays silent as you tell him about everything; about how your feelings have been all over the place, how they’re overwhelming you and you don’t know how to deal with them, about your parents and the things they told you that day. You feel his other hand holds you tighter, your heart softens at the automatic way he turns protective.

“Like I said, they told me I should be ashamed of myself for… yeah.” Your voice gets gradually smaller as you continue on, and before Wonwoo can ask, you continue because you’re guilty and there’s this need to come clean with him. “I didn’t… I didn’t sleep with him, Won.”

You wince at your own words, feeling extremely stupid now that you’re here, on his lap, talking about the night you tried to prove yourself that you don’t see Wonwoo that way only to find the universe making a joke out of you.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, but it’s true what people say about guilty conscience–you just wish to clarify that it’s not what it seemed like.

“I promise I didn’t. We…” you close your eyes and take a deep breath, and despite the jealousy burning in his chest as he recalls the situation, Wonwoo caresses the skin underneath your shirt comfortingly, telling you in his silent way that you don’t need to feel bad about it. “I… We… We were already at the hotel but… But you’re just… on my mind and I…”

You’re tearing up, and Wonwoo gently shushes you to calm you down, the familiar touch of his hand pushes you to his neck and you close your eyes for a good five seconds, his scent relaxing you, before you release a deep breath and continue.

You tell him honestly about how it came to be, your talk with Shua and the denial that followed, how you left Chaeyoung in the club because you’re way too busy fighting with yourself–how you’re in denial and you felt the need to prove that Chaeyoung’s wrong only to prove yourself wrong.

(You’re pretty sure she’d be screaming at you if not for the fact that she also knew your parents paid you a visit the morning after. You made sure to make Seungcheol send her a bouquet of white roses as an apology, something that Chaeyoung instantly knew to be your way of telling her you’re truly sorry but you’re not in a good mental space to meet anyone just yet.)

His heart beats a little faster at the implication of your words, but he knows you’re not done and it’s not the time to talk about it just yet. He encourages you to continue, you’re still playing with his fingers and his other hand is rubbing your back in comfort.

Now that you’re buried in his neck and you don’t have to see his eyes, you figure it’s time to tell him about Jennie too. At first, Wonwoo keeps his silence when you tell him that your six years old self was afraid that she’d take you away from him. That, at first, it was just that until awkwardness seeped in and it stacks up throughout the years so you just don’t know how to talk to her at all now.

You take another deep breath when you eventually tell him about what it is about her that has always made you feel like you need to keep a distance from the girl; how seeing her hurts because she feels like a reflection that you can only see from afar. Like a bad dream that’s scary because it’s a little too real.

That your heart longs to be treated like her parents treat her. That, to you, it means that you’re the reason why your parents treat you like an object. Because if it’s possible for Jennie, someone whose stand in this society is practically the same as you, to be treated like a precious child, then there’s probably something wrong with you for your parents to not treat you that way.

Wonwoo goes still under you, even his fingers that you’re holding tense a bit, and when you look up to meet his eyes, his eyes are full of pain and his mouth are a little ajar, as if unsure what to say at the revelation.

He’s not sure why, but the fact that you’re not crying hurts him even more. You sound resigned, like you’re sure that you’re the problem and not your parents, like you’ve accepted that it’s all on you. He’s about to say something, but he sees the telltale of you hesitating so he stops himself and waits yet again.

And, as if it doesn’t hurt him enough already, you tell him that you heard what his mom said the other day at the party. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t wait to cut you off and reassure you that he doesn’t think you’re any problem at all, that his mom has got it wrong and she was just being nosy because one of his distant cousins have just announced their engagement though it still doesn’t excuse her words.

He even apologizes, but you tell him that he doesn’t need to and that she’s probably right.

“No, no.” He shifts to look you in the eyes, and the small smile in your face feels like a slap in the face because he’s never seen you this refrained, so resigned and even a little empty. You’re his best friend, the dearest person in his life, the only person who stubbornly breaks through his wall when no one else bothers to even try, the one who nags him to do his dishes manually even though he literally has a helper and a dishwasher in the case that Mrs. Shin is unable to come, the one who drags him out of his shell when needs it most even though, often times, he doesn’t even know he needs it.

You don’t only brighten his bad days; you light up his life and Wonwoo has never seen your light so dull–so soulless that it breaks his heart. Have you been carrying these thoughts by yourself?

“I love you.” is the only thing that he manages to say. You snap your gaze to him in shock, not expecting it at all–sure, with last night happening and the nature of your relationship, it’s pretty clear that he returns your feelings, but to hear Wonwoo say those words out loud— “And… I know it wouldn’t help your situation, but I feel like you need to hear that… I love you, and even though I might not be able to change how your parents make you feel, I want you to know that there’s always someone who thinks you’re the most important person in the world, someone who can’t be without you. Do you know how dysfunctional I was when I heard you’re missing?”

You blush under his intense gaze, cheeks warming up despite the way you’re disoriented just a few seconds ago, because, frankly, you’ve never expected to hear Wonwoo verbally tell you about how he feels. Wonwoo has never been one to explicitly express his feelings, and even though he’s better at sharing them with you than with any other person, it’s still not something that he often does. Just every once in a while when he feels like he’s almost at his limit and he knows he’s going to burst else.

His finger gently lifts your chin so you’ll look at him, and it’s just so easy to drown in his eyes and lose yourself in them that you find yourself staring back at him without saying anything, heartbeats loud in your ears and blood rushes to your face.

Has Wonwoo always had this effect on you?

You have no idea, but you’re not exactly complaining even though the feelings are annoying because you’re pretty sure your heart is about to burst just about any moment if Wonwoo stares at you just a few seconds too long.

“You matter, okay?” This is the most Wonwoo has ever said when he’s comforting you. It’s foreign, but it eases your heart in ways that you can’t understand. He’d usually just pull you into his embrace and hold you tight there until you move to pull away, his fingers rub comforting circles on your back and he never gets tired of reminding you that he’s going to be there until whenever it gets better.

You’re not complaining though, whatever way he thinks is the best way to comfort you, you’re just glad you have Wonwoo back by your side.

“I can’t–don’t–want to imagine a life where I don’t have you with me and I hope that means something to you. I know you’ve heard this a lot, but you’re a lot more than what your parents made you think you are. And when you feel like you’re not worth it, please remember that I’m literally proof that you’re wrong.”

You’re openly sobbing now, arms tight around his neck as your tears trailing down his skin. The position is uncomfortable, but Wonwoo readily pulls you tighter against him and your body is fully pressed against him as you cry at his words.

“I don’t–I don’t deserve you, you know that?” you hiccup through your sentence, and then you cry harder when Wonwoo shakes his head and gives you a small smile like you’re a child who doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He leans forward to kiss your forehead, whispering that it’s not your call to make and that he wants you with him.

He’s exceptionally eloquent in expressing his feelings today, even he’s surprised that he’s able to tell you all these things out loud; things that he’s always kept deep in his heart and thought would forever be locked there without seeing the lights of day.

But perhaps seeing you so lost and empty helps.

Wonwoo tends to be quiet. It’s something that everyone has come to accept, and no one bothers him to speak more just for the sake of it. But Wonwoo has never thought it to be a problem because you understand him even if he doesn’t say anything. You know what to do and what to say when no one else does because Wonwoo himself finds it bothersome to say anything.

But here you are at this moment, feeling worthless like you could just disappear off the earth at that second and so sure that no one would care.

How could he stay silent when you’re like that?

“You’re literally the reason why I’m still standing on my feet,” he chuckles a little at his own words, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. “I’d probably be a hermit if not for you.”

You laugh despite your tears, and you thank him when he hands you a tissue then wipe your face with it. Your vision is still blurry, as you’re still crying even though the sob has died down now. You don’t mind though, because even though your feelings are all over the place and you’re not even sure why you’re crying, you know it’s not because you’re upset.

It’s quite the opposite, actually. And it’s funny how Wonwoo rarely says anything but the moment the dam breaks and he’s letting out all these words he’s been keeping to himself, your feelings are thrown all over the place and suddenly you’re feeling everything at once.

You have never understood when people say Wonwoo is cold. Wonwoo has always been warm to you, his arms always feel like home and you can’t possibly find a place more comfortable than with Wonwoo by your side.

It’s really a mystery to you how Wonwoo manages to hold you even tighter, but you really don’t care because the only thing that you care about right now is you’re with him.

You’re home–and that’s the only thing you could ask for.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

A/N: hehehehhhh they're finally together😭😭

taglist: @hoe4wonwoo@dnylwoo@yslshua@twogyuu@najaemin138@blueixnie@boowanie@pwettytae@itsveronicaxxx@aphrodyteeth@leechanniee@jeoonghann@sdoulc@kyeomjjigae@ru-lin@listxn@yngreid@vynnz@lilactangerine@justasoftstan@amymoonl@02psh@lovelywoo@pusangmamon@yoontaedotin@soonchanshua@fanfic24@nothingbutadeadesceane@nollixtrml@sweetheart-gs@rjsmochii@dowoonwoodealer@babyjagihoney

#wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenario #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo au #wonwoo x reader #my way to you masterlist #wonwoo fic #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #wonwoo angst #seventeen angst

410 notes · View notes

galaxietm · 2 years

Text

So. Here’s a major Update on my situation.

This is probably the most serious post I've made in a while lol- excuse me if I make a joke or two in this post because I cope with humor. (or if i repeat any phrase in this post at all. there’s a lot that’s happened and i’m just so tired) This post is going to be long, most likely the majority of it will be under a read more. A lot’s happened and I probably won’t even go over it all.

This post will be queued to pop out a few times during the next week or so, as my attempt as updating more people on the situation. Yes I’m aware it’s about 3am my time. This is the best time to post it. Sorry if it’s an inconvenience.

Basically, a long story short of this whole thing that most of you may know about the first part if you've seen my posts:

Two days after my birthday back in June, my laptop died. I've been waiting for my tax return before I get a new one since I don't have the money otherwise right now, so a roommate has been letting me use his computer for the last two months when needed (and even then i felt bad honestly) and my tax return has yet to actually.... show up. On friday, i’m planning to go to a local IRS office (that’s still like 40 mins away) to try to see what’s going on.

For the second part, speaking of not having the money….

All of my roommates are moving out! You heard me right! And all because of stupid drama that happened because I didn't want one of them to take my cat when she moved!

First it started because two roommates are moving out. It’s been something that’s been planned since may, no big deal. Well, I turned to my other two roommates, letting them know I found someone who could move in and help with rent / bills (whom i’ve known since high school and i know her well!) but they were so adamant to say no just because she had a daughter (and even after finding out that her daughter wouldn’t be here 75% of the time lol)

Oh! speaking of the first two roommates who are moving out and the one who wanted to take my cat: yeah, one of the two people i’ve been living with for almost 5 years tried to take my cat with them.

A lot of dumb drama happened, other things that had nothing to do with me wanting to keep my cat (because that’s just how the two people i’ve been living with for nearly 5 years have been! bringing up absolutely nothing to do with what the actual topic / conversation at the time just to change the subject or whatever!) including one of the two who were trying to take my cat starting a screaming match with my mother (and?? threatening to hit her?? causing my brother to threaten him back?? he also tried to weaponize my sexuality against my mom out of nowhere and she just laughed in his face-- but lmao he’s a fucker so it would have been deserved since he’s part of the reason everything blew up)

So, since this is the same guy whose computer i’ve been using off and on for the last two months when i’m able to get online, i’m going to be removing all of my things from his computer and just wait until my tax return finally gets here so i can get a new laptop of my own. I don’t really want to have to deal with his stuff more than i need to.

This whole situation and a lot of this has made me realize how toxic the two i’ve been living with for almost 5 years are and have been to me the whole time i’ve known them. i’ve been coming to a lot of realizations the last few days and at this point, i’m waiting for them to move out so the situation can maybe settle down a bit more.

Honestly, so much has happened since wednesday night that’s had me so stressed out, i’ve barely eaten. saturday night i slowly was able to eat a little bit and, as of my shift at work last night, i think i’ve finally gotten my appetite back; but unfortunately the feeling of anxiety mixed with dread has remained because of everything here feeling like it’s falling apart in front of me.

And, after talking to the landlord, I’m going to be the head of the household / the name on the lease, so to speak. Which also means I have to come up with $500 to pay the deposit before next saturday (yay for that?? fuck me lol) and i have to figure out a new roommate situation, get all the bills either switched over to my name or open a new account for them, replace all the kitchenware that my soon to be ex roommates have already packed and taken, replace all the furniture they’re taking, replace the pots and pans they took, and try not to feel like i’m having another breakdown.

at least i get to keep my cat, right? honestly, she’s like an emotional support animal to me at this point and i don’t know what i would have done without her. probably broken down yet again tbh.

honestly, if it wasn’t for my cat, my mom, my older brother, and @peachiiihearts, i probably would have lost it because of everything going on. (and yes dew is up to date with everything, she’s been one of the few people i’ve been able to talk to about all this because wow so much happened within the span of two days and i’m just tired)

this is a long-winded say of saying that I’m going to be placing the blog on a full hiatus until, not only all of this is solved, but mainly until my tax return comes in and i’m finally able to get a new laptop. if that works out, i’ll slowly come back, depending how this situation develops.

honestly?? it sucks because i’ve legitimately missed getting online and writing with you guys. my mental health has been all over the place due to the lack of creative outlet i had easy access to before. i’ve done some writing on goog.le docs, but it’s been hard to find the time to get on here to post it due to me not wanting to bother that soon-to-be ex roommate, but now i just flat out don’t want to deal with him for more than i have to.

when i eventually come back?? i’ll be so happy to try to get back into writing because hot damn i miss it and some of my characters so fucking much.

if anyone wants to chat on disc.ord, or maybe figure out a 1 on 1 server so we can write or talk about muses or w/e, my disc.ord is josie#1503. i’d prefer if only mutuals add me if possible!

for now, i’ll post this, lurk for a bit and maybe add some of you back if you add me (and i’ll keep a link to this post on my phone just in case some of ya’ll like or reply to it) and after getting off, i may not be back until i’m able to get a new laptop.

thanks for being patient with me guys, i really appreciate it.

one last thing:

something that’s helped me cope with this shitstorm of a situation is humor, so here’s one joke i’ve been making a lot the last few days to those around me: ”i went from living in a sitcom of a situation, to a drama, skipping right over a soap opera and straight into being in a telenovela.”

i’ve also made a joke about getting an idea for a webcomic from all this fuckery as a way to cope, so we’ll see what happens??

and here’s a gif that’s basically been me for the last few days

#;;ooc tag tba.#// alternate title of this post: josie is gonna mcfuckin lose it ya'll #// but also: hi any support is welcome; good vibes or otherwise #// because wowie i've broken down crying way too many times in the last dew days #// because of all that's happened #// and despite only good things for the situation happening today?#// i'm just so fuckin tired and stressed and. i dont know what to do lmaoo #// anyway even with all this going on #// i hope all of you are doing well!#// i've bene thinking a lot about my mutuals here and how much i miss you guys

14 notes · View notes

cyncerity · 1 month

Text

sorry i don’t have anything that new or special for vore day, but i do have a scrapped concept alt story for the most recent Schlatt and Charlie fic!

this is heavily unedited and ends where I gave up and kinda restarted, but a lot is still the same so i’ll mark where it’s different with *** at the beginning and end for those who don’t feel like re-reading this whole thing again lol

happy vore day y’all!

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” “I know, but, c’mon…we have to tell him eventually.”

“God fucking damnit, where are the keys Schlatt gave me-“

Ted.

~~~

Shit, shit. Schlatt’s had totally forgotten he gave Ted a space pair of keys for when he was visiting. Fuck, fuck, what the fuck should he do with Charlie? He heard the key turn in the lock. All of the borrower tunnels were too far away for the remaining few seconds he had till Ted walked in. There’d be no disguising that he was talking to Charlie. Charlie, who was part of a species that Ted believed couldn’t talk. He wouldn’t be able to explain himself. He heard a creak as the door started to open. Did he have a pocket? Shit, no, he had a crew neck and the pockets on his jeans were too tight and small for Charlie to fit in. There was only one other option he could think of. Fuck. Charlie, like him, had been frozen from shock this whole time. That would probably make this easier. He quickly lowered himself down and tried to grab Charlie to shove him in his mouth. *** “Schlatt!” He heard Ted shout, and suddenly, without warning, Charlie moved. Frantically, almost blindly running at him with no warning and accidentally hitting his hand in the process, and everything went to shit. ***

~~~

Oh no. Speak of the devil. Ted. God dammit, why did he have to show up right when he and Schlatt were talking about him. And why did Schlatt even give him a spare key? He heard the key turn in the lock. Ok, fuck, how the fuck was he supposed to get out of this one? He didn’t have time to run, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that. And contrary to how often he joked about the window thing, it was actually a pretty horrifying experience that he would not like to relive.

He heard a creak as the door started to open.

***

He broke free from his panicked state and immediately sprinted towards Schlatt, planning to climb his shirt to his mouth and just hoping to god Schlatt would get the hint. However, he apparently hadn’t noticed that Schlatt had the same idea as him. “Schlatt?” Ted asked. Charlie ran full speed smack into Schlatt’s hand that had apparently been reaching to pick him up, practically flipping over it by accident and smacking sideways into Schlatt’s mouth but not quite at the right angle to fit in it.

The door clicked closed, Ted was in the room with them.

Schlatt barely caught him, but Charlie had barely realized he’d almost fallen, continuing to claw desperately towards his hiding spot. He was in full fight or flight mode now, and nothing was gonna break him out of it until he knew he was away from Ted. Schlatt used one hand to keep Charlie from falling and the other to try and shove however much of Charlie he could into his mouth.

“Are you ok, man?” Ted asked, coming closer.

After Schlatt finally managed to finally get some of Charlie in, Charlie triggered his gag reflex by accident, causing Schlatt to have to shove the rest of the borrower into his mouth despite being unable to breathe so that Ted wouldn’t see him, and Charlie to be sent down head first and still mostly dry.

***

~~~~~

“Schlatt!” Ted yelled, running over to see Schlatt holding his throat, unable to breathe. Oh thank god Schlatt had been facing away from the door throughout all of that. Ted went to wrap his arms around him to perform the heimlich, but Schlatt was thankfully aware enough to push him away at the last second. Unfortunately, that move sent Schlatt crashing into the floor. Ted rushed over again, worry plastered on his face as Schlatt held up a hand, signaling to stop. So, Ted did just that, running off to do god knows what. *** Schlatt, meanwhile, could feel Charlie get stuck just a short way before he stopped blocking his windpipe. Schlatt pushed at his throat, swallowing frantically, pounding at his chest, anything to get Charlie down faster. He didn’t realize just how much…bigger Charlie was than his son. Charlie was a grown man, and tall by borrower standards, too. Compare that to Tubbo who was short by all standards and Schlatt realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Charlie, to his credit, also seemed to be trying to help by attempting to squirm his way down. Schlatt’s doubted this was any more fun for the borrower than for him. The difference was that Charlie could breathe [probably] and Schlatt could not. Or, well, he hoped he could.

It was when Schlatt was starting to black out that Ted came back with a glass of water, not even giving Schlatt time to process it before forcefully opening his mouth and pouring it down his throat, giving Schlatt the ability to swallow Charlie down farther and finally unblock him from his windpipe. Schlatt fell to the ground again with a gasp, trying to drag as much air into his lungs as humanely possible. He placed a hand on his chest and finally, fucking finally, felt Charlie make his way closer towards the stomach. He dissolved into a coughing fit on the floor, Ted slowly lowering himself to sit next to him. Schlatt wasn’t even gonna try to explain anything to Ted yet, though. Not until Charlie ended up where he needed to be and he could stop worrying.

He did his best to keep a poker face while he felt a much heavier weight than usual drop into his stomach. He really hadn’t thought about how much bigger Charlie was than Tubbo, but it was more noticeable now than ever. He was expecting to feel Charlie sit up or reposition himself, but…nothing. Schlatt only had time to worry for a second before he was snapped out of his shock with a hand clap onto his shoulder, snapping his attention back to what was happening on the outside. *** “Schlatt, you with me, man?” “..Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine.” Right, he had an act to put on for Ted. “What the fuck were you choking on?” “Oh nothing, so, what brings you here?” Schlatt asked, trying to redirect the conversation. He didn’t know what excuse he would use for that shit show if he needed one, but he doubted he’d be able to convincingly lie to Ted about it with Charlie right there listening. But it wasn’t like he could say the truth. ‘Sorry about that Ted, I was choking on our third podcast member because he’s scared you’ll hurt him but don’t worry, he’s in my stomach now so he’s safe from, again, exclusively you.’ Yeah, no.

“Well, I came over to surprise you. Didn’t think you’d almost die or something.” Schlatt chuckled a bit in response. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect anyone to break into my apartment.” Schlatt stood, silently thankful for Ted helping him up as he adjusted to the added weight in his middle. *** He felt Charlie sway a bit as he stood but other than that, again, nothing. He resisted the urge to press in on himself to feel for anything, even just breathing. He couldn’t break character yet; he had to assume Charlie was playing it safe by just not moving. “You down here for any reason other than to scare me half to death?” Schlatt said, pacing over to his fridge under the guise of grabbing food while he silently felt for any signal from Charlie now that his back was turned to Ted. “Yeah, actually.” Ted said, leaning against the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Schlatt hummed to pretend he was paying attention while pressing into his stomach a few quick times. Short short long. Long long long, long short long. ‘U-O-K-?’ He knew Charlie could translate it, he was the one that taught Schlatt Morse code. He was waiting for two taps back; their signal for yes. Hell, he’d even take one tap for no, something. Hopefully, Charlie would get the hint that it was ok to move. He’d respond. He would know he was fine, Ted didn’t suspect anything. But if he didn’t respond for much longer, they’d have a very different problem on their hands.

“…Schlatt?” Ted questioned, again snapping Schlatt out of his worries again. Right. The act. “Sorry, must’ve zoned out,” Schlatt responded, grabbing a bottle of juice out of his fridge and turning back to Ted. “What were you saying?” “I was saying I’m here for a reason. You’re not the only one of my friends in the area, but surprise! I’m staying down here for a few months to do content!” Ted looked to Schlatt expectantly, and Schlatt did his best to ignore the sinking feeling he had about Charlie and be happy for Ted, but he was sure his smile looked forced. He grabbed a few glasses and filled them. “That’s great, man! Sounds like it’ll be fun.” “That’s the goal.” Ted answered, taking a sip of his. “Do a couple collab videos, some vlogs, it’ll be sick-” “Mhm.” Schlatt responded while Ted continued talking, taking a drink of his own. Final test. If this wouldn’t get Charlie to do something, anything, then something was wrong. He waited a few seconds, even taking another drink, until-

Something. Quick, barely there. Schlatt couldn’t even be sure he hadn’t imagined it, but then there was something else. Movement, fucking finally. He tried communication again; Short short long. Long long long, long short long. He waited a few seconds, up to a minute, until, finally…he felt two weak taps back. ***

~~~~~

*** Charlie woke up bleary eyed and nauseous, his head pounding like he’d been hitting it against a wall. He was also in complete darkness, though even if there was any light, he doubted he’d be able to see much with how unfocused he could tell his eyes were. Not having his glasses didn’t help. Shit, where were his glasses? He reached out to the ground beside himself, searching the surroundings only to finally register the weird feeling of the floor and the fact that he was in a puddle of liquid up to his chest. Oh yeah, and the minute movement of the space around him as he touched the ground. He shifted himself more into a sitting position and felt around on the other side of him, finally finding and grabbing his now goo covered glasses. The place moved again, and now the walls started to press in, splashing the liquid up around him. Really, that should have scared him a lot more than it did, and probably would have if he hadn’t immediately recognized the communication attempt. “You ok?” Schlatt was asking, and Charlie could have laughed at the absurdity of it. Schlatt. Right, that’s what was going on. He was inside his giant best friend. He got stuck headfirst down Schlatt’s throat, he must’ve passed out from the blood rushing to his head before he ended up here. And ‘here’…was the stomach. Holy shit, he was actually in a human’s stomach, something a few years ago he’d have only thought possible in the horror stories he’d been told as a kid. How the hell was this his life.

Still, though, he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t in any danger, didn’t need to worry about getting seen. He…was ok. A lot more ok than he thought he’d be. Migraine ridden, blind, wet, and uncomfortably humid, of course, but ok nonetheless. So, he tapped back twice, leaning forward to the wall where the pressing from Schlatt had been coming from in order to better hear whatever conversation was happening outside.

~~~~~

Charlie was ok. Holy fuck, Schlatt could have cried with relief. He didn’t kill his best friend, that was a weight off his shoulders. “I did want to talk with you about something though, just to get your opinion on it.” “Sure, what’s up man?” Schlatt said, attention fully on Ted for the first time in this whole conversation. “It’s about Charlie.” ***

Schlatt froze, and he could feel Charlie tense up. “Uh…what about him?” “I just, i don’t know…it’s hard to explain.” Ted frustratedly motioned with his hands and tried to explain more before sighing. “Did i do something wrong?” Ted said, a genuine look of confusion and hurt in his eyes. “Everytime we talk, it’s fine. We’re friends, and we have been for a while, and I know he’s on the same page as me. But any time I ask him anything vaguely personal, even if it’s just shit like his hair color or mcdonald’s order or fucking anything, it’s like we’re back to being strangers. Like I don’t have the right as his friend to know shit like that. The only thing I know about him is his first name and honestly? It wouldn’t even bother me if he wasn’t so close with you.” Schlatt hadn’t expected that, and from what he could tell of Charlie relaxing and moving forward to hear more, he hadn’t expected it either. “Ted, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just…well, for one, Charlie has known me for a lot longer than he’s known you. Of course he’s more comfortable with me. But it’s not that he doesn’t trust you or anything. I promise he considers you one of his best friends. Even when it’s just us talking, he’s never said anything about you that would imply anything else.” “It’s not that I don’t believe that, but I just…sorry, maybe I’m being selfish here. If he doesn’t want to meet me it’s not my business to pry, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently.” Ted finished, staring down at his hands. Schlatt…wasn’t sure where to go from there. He felt horrible for keeping such a massive secret from one of his oldest friends, especially about something that’d clearly been causing so much inner turmoil, but he couldn’t betray Charlie like that.

“Schlatt, can you hear me?” Charlie suddenly interjected. Schlatt tapped twice for confirmation and Charlie continued. “Ok, then i’m gonna need you to repeat after me, got it?” Schlatt tried not to let the confusion he felt read on his face for Ted to see, but he tapped twice again anyway. He sat in silence for a few seconds before Charlie took a deep breath and started talking.

Schlatt froze. Had Charlie said what he thought he said? No way in hell was he serious. “Repeat it, Schlatt. I’ve thought it through, i mean it.” Holy shit he was serious. And so, he repeated. God, he wished that Charlie had been able to see the look of utter shock on Ted’s face. “You’re joking.” He said, and Schlatt shook his head while waiting for the next prompt. “Charlie wants to meet you, he’s just…afraid he won’t live up to your expectations.” Schlatt repeated, and Ted scoffed. “Please, that’s the least he should be concerned about. At this point the guy could be a serial killer and I’d still be thrilled to meet him.” Schlatt could tell when the truth hit him fully, because Ted’s expression brightened tenfold. He looked like he’d just win the lottery. “I just, I can’t believe it! Holy shit, I’m gonna meet the Charlie Slimecicle!” “Yeah, me either.” Charlie sighed and Schlatt repeated, though he said it for both of them.

***

After some more casual conversation about Ted’s plans and ideas for the newly decided live podcast recording, Ted finally said goodbye, promising to let Charlie know how excited he was. Schlatt let out a breath of relief he didn’t even know he was holding when Ted shut the door behind him. He turned and leaned back against the door. “Holy shit that was stressful.” “You’re telling me,” Charlie responded, “at least you didn’t pass out during that.”

“You passed out?? Is that why you weren’t responding???”

“Yeah but I’m fine though.” ***

Schlatt facepalmed, sliding his way down the floor into a sitting position. Charlie felt his own stomach drop at the action, the feeling finally making him fully process what they’d done. “So…” Charlie started, lightly kicking at the wall in front of him. “This is weird.” “Very.”

Silence.

“Why the fuck did you do that??” Schlatt asked, and Charlie groaned, pushing his glasses into his face with the heels of his palms. “I don’t know, dude, I panicked! I just…” Charlie sighed, dropping his hands. “He deserves to know. And no better time than the present, I guess. Besides, I have actually been thinking about it. Maybe if he takes it well, we can make it public and some fans will be able to see that we borrowers aren’t what they think we are.”

~bonus short scenes that got cut lol~

“What’s it…what’s it like in there?” “Excuse me?” Charlie asked, mildly shocked by the question. “C’mon man, you’re like the third or fourth person to ever be in there, and one of those people goes in on a practically daily basis and doesn’t ever want to explain why. You can’t blame me for being a little bit curious.” Charlie sighed dramatically. “Fuck if I know dude, I can’t see shit and I’ve been here for like 20 minutes. I…the walls are weird? The texture is weird. Same with the floor, I can’t stand up at all. It’s small and cramped and realistically would be a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. I can’t, like, fully splay out or anything, but I can reach out and touch the walls and ceiling without fully extending any of my limbs.” “Really? Cause Tubbo can’t do that, is he really that much smaller than you?” “I guess,” Charlie shrugged, Schlatt feeling the motion against his stomach.

“He’s pretty short, he is just a kid.” “Yeah, I’m not used to…I don’t know how to explain this other than that you being bigger and heavier than Tubbo makes a big difference, y’know?” “Bigger than you thought?” “Definetely,” Schlatt sighed. “Not like I had much time to think about it, though.”

~~~

“Now uh, if you don’t mind..can you, uh…” “Oh yeah, right, totally,” Schlatt said as Charlie felt him stand up. All of a sudden the space around him pushed in on itself and he was shoved back into the humid and tight throat. He made it back into Schlatt’s mouth and was quickly removed and set on a counter with a dry rag. Charlie took it with a quick thank you as Schlatt leaned back against the counter. “Y’know Tubbo’s gonna bug the shit outta you once he realizes you’ve been eaten, right?” “Oh god don’t tell him-“

#happy vore day guys!!#new story soon hopefully i’ve just been busy lol #anyway hope you enjoy and sorry any of this is confusing #btw most of my stories don’t have alt stuff like this one #this was just a bitch to write and i changed my mind so many times #cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #dad’s troubles au #tw vore #soft vore #safe vore #giant!schlatt #tiny!slimecicle #tiny!charlie

24 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA:

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all!#THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

469 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

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.

393 notes · View notes