#this took me forever to make …. and i’m emo about how it turned out too !!!!!

[omentu5]

[brandstifter-sys]

On a Limb

Part 2: Noodles                      (Ao3)

Word Count: 1166

Rating: T

Pairing: Dukexiety (feat. Roman)

Warnings: Spider limbs, tentacles, emo songs, sex mention

Virgil and Remus cuddle during movie night, and then Remus’ tentacles come out looking for attention, unaware that Roman is still there and awake.

---

Dating Remus had its ups and downs, especially after Thomas accepted Virgil. There was some panic and some excitement, but there were quiet moments that made everything seem perfect in their messy world. 

It was movie night, and it was late. Virgil was the only one who was still awake, watching Scream while Remus was snuggled up to him in his lap. The only other side still in the common area was Roman, dozing on his throne of pillows. 

Virgil was content to lounge and let Remus use him as a pillow when no one was around and awake. He had an image he wanted to keep, even if it was crumbling for the wrong reasons. 

He took a moment to admire Remus' relaxed sleeping face as the credits rolled. He looked so innocent and youthful, and even princely. Virgil melted inside when Remus held him tighter and nuzzled into his belly. He truly loved this gremlin man. 

"When I see your smile, tears run down my face," he sang softly and ran his fingers through Remus' hair.

"I can't replace" 

He knew it was a sappy emo song that someone would probably make fun of him for, but he was basically alone and he was feeling pretty sappy. 

"And now that I'm strong, I have figured out, How this world is cold, and it breaks through my soul. And I know I'll find deep inside me, I can be the one," he continued softly. 

But before he could get to the chorus, four tentacles erupted from the duke's back and shot towards him. 

One immediately wrapped around his head while two curled around his chest. The last one hovered a foot away from his face, patiently waiting. 

Virgil sighed through his nose and coaxed the green appendage from his face and draped it over his hand. 

"Easy there, Tiger," he muttered and kissed the tip, making the tentacle go limp "I'll stop singing." The tentacle went rigid and squirmed toward his mouth again. 

"Okay, okay, Tiberius, I won't stop," he chuckled and ran his hand over the feisty arm. Tiberius shivered and wrapped around his shoulders.

"Commodus, Elagabalus," he said and ran his fingers over the tentacles hugging his chest, "Come up here a sec." 

Elagabalus unwound and popped up in front of him in a serpentine arch. Virgil grabbed it and brought it to his lips. 

"You're calm tonight, Laggy, just want cuddles?" he mumbled against the brained noodle. Laggy wiggled excitedly and shot back down to hug him again. 

"Commie? You want a kiss?" he asked and petted the other tentacle hugging him. Commie wiggled and held on tighter. 

"Alright, the offer is open," he said and eyed the last tentacle with a soft smile.

"C'mere, Nero, I didn't forget about you." 

Virgil giggled when Nero came up to his cheek and rubbed against it. 

"I'm happy to see you too," he said and left a little kiss on the top of it. He rubbed it gently, giving it plenty of opportunity to escape. Nero curled up and rubbed his upper lip.

"You know I can't pull off the mustache look," Virgil hummed fondly and held up his hand so Nero could wrap around it and snuggle his palm. 

Tiberius crept up his cheek and poked him. Virgil turned his head quickly and surprised it with another kiss. Tiberius jolted and poked his lips. It was singing time again.

"I will never let you fall, I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all. Even if saving you sends me to heaven," he sang softly and ran his free hand over the tentacles hugging him. 

Tiberius poked him again for more kisses before he could continue. He was happy to deliver.

"Seasons are changing and waves are crashing and stars are falling all for us," he kept going, nuzzling Tiberius and stroking Nero. He was too distracted to notice the pillow throne shifting. 

"Days grow longer and nights grow shorter, I can show you I'll be the one." 

Roman was wide awake, primarily stunned to hear Virgil singing without getting promoted. But then he noticed the position Virgil was in.

Remus was holding him down and his fiendish tentacles were accosting him! And he was singing—to soothe the beastly limbs of course! Roman was ready to intervene, but Virgil unwittingly stopped him. 

"'Cause you're my, you're my, my," Virgil sang, extending the last word before going on, "My true love, my whole heart. Please don't throw that away." 

Roman quietly rose just right to see Virgil's face. He was shocked to see four tentacles rubbing his cheeks, and even more surprised to see Virgil smiling and petting them like they were needy puppies.

"I love you too, you giant noodles" he giggled and nuzzled into the affection, "C'mon, you don't want to wake Remus, he needs his sleep." 

Roman lowered himself and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He was intruding on a strange but tender moment. It was a moment he, of all sides, should have seen coming.

"I think I need to stop singing. You're getting too excited," Virgil muttered, "If you settle down, we can go to my room and I'll bring out the tarsi." 

The tentacles immediately flopped over his shoulders and rubbed his back. They wanted the toe beans! 

"And Roman," Virgil said, catching the prince off his guard, "Tell anyone about this and kiss your katana goodbye." 

Roman went rigid as Virgil sank out. He would face Anxiety’s wrath later. 

.

.

Remus woke up in the wee hours of the morning. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he was in Virgil's room, snuggled up to him on top of the covers. 

He was feeling extra cuddly and he was happy to snuggle with the cuddliest side of them all! He was special enough to know that detail! 

But then he realized his tentacles were out and probably playing with Virgil's hair brushes. He tilted his head and grinned. 

Each tentacle arm was curled up around a spider leg, idly petting the fuzzy toe pads. Truly a welcoming texture, a pleasure for the tips! It kept his mind quieter and filled him with warmth. 

Remus giggled to himself and crawled up Virgil to see his face. 

"You woke up," Virgil hummed and hugged him to his chest. 

"Mhm, for now," Remus hummed and kissed his cheek, "I still need my sweet little good nightmare kisses!" 

"Sorry, Tiger took them all," Virgil jeered. 

"Aw, all of them?" Remus whined and pouted. Virgil chuckled and cupped his cheek. 

"Can you handle something bigger?" 

"You know I'm a size queen!" Remus teased and wiggled his eyebrows. 

Virgil stole forward and captured his lips, gently sucking his lower lip and nibbling on it as they slipped apart. And then he did it again. And again.

Remus absolutely melted and clung to Virgil's shirt. He absolutely loved his sweet and salty, ticking time bomb of a boyfriend.

(Part 1)

[beckface]

It’s 1am and brain go brrr so i’m gonna just. Talk about a realllly self indulgent wg and twobrains au for a bit don’t mind me

context- I wrote a fic one time that was like the city turned on WG a bit and her secret identity got revealed after a really bad battle, like Becky overheard some conversations out of context of people she cared about and assumed that their mixed emotions were them completely shunning her. Then TB comforted her in the woods and the ending kindof implies that she bitterly decides to stop protecting the city.

So thats the backstory for whatever saccharine family bullshit i’m about to start saying idk I didn’t plan this

warning this is aggressively Becky hurt/comfort

Twobrains goes home and eats his dinner but keeps thinking about Becky, like he’s all discombobulated because he’s getting weird fuzzy memories of her secret identity and realizing that he has a lot repressed of warmth and love that the two shared

He talks to his henchmen and tells them everything, Squeaky is just kindof quietly listening and observing like the stone cold embodiment of evil the weird mouse tumor is. He’s like “this could be a beneficial development” and Tb is like “I am in so much pain”

Anyways a couple days go by and things go back to normal except wordgirl (now known to be Becky Botsford) is no where to be seen. Everyone is worried sick but really hesitant about expressing it or going to look for her because they feel like she’s now alienated (pun. laugh. laugh at my pun.) from everyone else

And they don’t really understand that she’s really vulnerable right now because everyone has it in their heads that they don’t really see Wordgirl as a full fledged person, and more like a godly beacon of power. This is infecting their view of Becky, and the people who knew Becky are being very standoffish and weird about it

So TB is thinkin his thoughts and goes through old tapes of Steven and WG interacting, stuff he refused to watch before. He goes to a villain meeting and all the villains talk about how it’s been nice that they haven’t been caught doing crimes but they’re all really hesitant to do anything too big.

Some like Granny May and Mr. Big are just doing their thing as normal but keeping it lowkey, some like Butcher and Chuck feel too guilty to do any crimes while Wordgirl is sad and MIA, and Tobey is just out here losing all villainous motivation because Wordgirl isn’t showing up and, he along with Victoria and Eileen miss Becky a lot.

Kid Math IS here and stopping some villains, but he’s in the city over so he can’t be at Fair City all the time!

Twobrains considers all this and decides to take some action under the guise of being annoyed at everyone being all melancholy. He goes to her spaceship hideout (he knows where it is from that one episode where she procrastinated and took him there) and finds her there sulking as expected.

Becky is laying on the couch, the tv on but not really watching it. She’s knows that her family and friends probably miss her, and she should probably talk to Bob because he’s in just as deep as she is, but she’s stuck in her own head still.

When she hears a knock on the door, or rather, on the window, she goes to check it out. Twobrains somehow climbed his way up to the window and is now very clearly regretting that decision, and almost falling off

She saves him and he’s like “Are you just gonna mope forever” and she’s like [emo music] “you’re not my dad you don’t understand!” and he’s all “Thats it. You’re coming with me.” and he just kinda scoops her up like you would a wet cat and she’s too preteen angst to care, and thus begins the “Wordgirl hides from everyone and lives with Twobrains for a bit” au

He makes her a little pallet in the guest room and puts in some toys and stuff she left in his lab when he was Steven that he never gave back to her before (I am holding on to that headcanon for dear life I bring it up so much) and over time the guest room stops looking like a guest room and starts looking like an explosion of 11-year-old-girl happened in the middle of this evil lair

He gets her some civilian clothes at some point so she doesn’t have to just wear the uniform all the time but like he has no idea what little girls wear so it’s just his outfit but smaller. The henchman go out and get Becky some actual outfits and stuff

Twobrains starts to grumpily bond with Becky and the Henchmen find it funny how he goes out of his way for her but acts like it’s such a horrible burden.

“Boss aren’t we committing a crime? Why are we stopping at the pretty princess sale?”

“You imbeciles, well OBVIOUSLY this pretty princess special edition deluxe wallpaper color-by-number kit isn’t going to buy itself?? I swear, having Wordgirl around is so annoying, she doesn’t even know that this is out yet and still won’t leave the house anyways, so I have to be the one to get it for her! Ugh.”

“Boss why. Why do you need to get it for her.”

“Do I pay you to ask questions?? Go get my wallet!”

She pops up while he’s building his evil rays and EVERY single time she makes a big deal about how she could stop him if she was still a crime fighter and goes into detail about how she would do it. Like she’s so bored she makes up crimes for herself to stop. Eventually he’s like “I need some peace while building. Clearly the reasonable solution is not to ask her to leave me alone for a bit, so I’m going to build a room dedicated to hologram battle scenarios.” And it turns out to just be a battle training sort of deal but Becky thinks it’s the most fun thing ever

Mousebrain convinces TB to spread a rumor that Wordgirl has gone back to Lexicon, just for safety purposes. TB can tell that Squeaky has a plan, but is keeping quiet. For now. TB can guess pretty easily where this is going though.

one direction this could go is Becky thinks she’s just gonna stay away from everyone but as she and TB get closer she gets more and more into the things he does, she starts negotiating with her moral code a bit and begins by being curious about his work, and is genuinely interested when he excitedly infodumps about his projects

Then she starts helping him build his gadgets, evil or not. She even gets to wear one of his spare lab coats, but she has to tie up the sleeves and cape of the coat so it fits on her. He does have some goggles that fit her. One day when going to work on the lab she wears the outfit he bought that was just a copy of his, and combined with the lab coat and goggles it looks like Twobrains and his mini-me (who other then the outfit looks nothing like him so it’s silly) working on some sort of contraption together

He feels all proud when she wears the mini-me outfit and alcjakdjalxlckd im sick in the head someone help me but no yeah he’s like “Look. My child. She has arrived.”

“Y’know kid this is really fun, Why couldn’t we have just done this sooner instead of you pestering me about my schemes all this time”

“Doc. Arresting you for committing multiple felonies is not ‘pestering’”

“Ehhh you say potato I say pestering”

“No you say potato, I say felony-hey haha stop it!”

“Whats that? I can’t hear you over this pillow in your face.”

*murmurring*

“Come again? I think you might have- hEY-“ [twobrains is thrown on the ground by an aggressively tossed pillow]

“Muahaha! You think you can defeat me? I am Wordgirl! Master of the art of pillow fighting!”

“Oh ho ho- you may have mastered the arts, but don’t forget who taught you! Never understand an old pro with some tricks up his sleeve- HENCHMAN, NOW!”

[The Henchmen and Twobrains all bombarded Becky with pillows. She gives up quickly with a giant smile, and she and Twobrains fall on the pile of pillows laughing hard]

“HAAH- hah hah- Oh god, I haven’t done that in years, I feel like a little kid again!”

[he turns to see Becky’s eyes shining and a thoughtful grin stretching across her face]

“?”

“Whatcha lookin at me like that for”

“Nothing I just- I’m really happy right now”

He tells some of the other villains at some point, not all at once just the ones he’s closest too. He avoids telling the kids, something tells him that they would tell her parents where she is, and mouse brain doesn’t like that idea.

He tries to remain unbiased because she’s clearly hearing everything with the worst intentions right now, but from everything she says about how everyone from her life is supposedly talking about her they all seem pretty heartless just because she’s different and powerful. He doesn’t really want to have her go back to that either.

Chuck and Butcher have both been worried sick since they’re both really soft and have grown to care about Wordgirl a lot, so they’re happy she’s okay, and doubly happy that she’s not stopping their crimes of her own accord now. The two come over for lunch often and hang out with TB and his gaggle of people he accidentally adopted

TB has started to use her real name around the house because “Wordgirl” feels awkward. Becky at first is weirded out by him calling her Becky, and it feels strange for him too, but over time it starts being more comfortable and almost nostalgic, because WG remember everything from the steven time ofc and TB is getting more and more memories of Becky now that the truth is out

Sometimes Kid Math comes over to stop an evil scheme. Becky keeps her distance but is always overtaken by this intense self-hatred and guilt, but she feels too paralyzed to go do anything either way.

Becky, pointing at her feelings of inadequacy whenever she’s not doing something to serve others even if it’s too much for her: Damn g my cut is insane shoutout to my barber (camera pans to childhood trauma)

She basically really hates not doing anything and it makes her feel worthless or like she’s actively doing something wrong, or like it’s her sole duty to take care of other people and she’s failing at the point of her existence somehow

She ends up talking to TB and the other villains/henchmen that know where she is about this, because who else does she have right now? and they are all like “F that, you don’t owe anything to anybody!”

Between this, bonding with her villains, and becoming dangerously comfortable with avoiding seeing anyone she knows after the attack day she kindof becomes a villain in the shadows

She’s petrified of being seen in public again, but she helps some of the villains now. Mostly TB. She starts out by assisting with rays and such, but ends up wearing a cloak and breaking through walls for them or superhearing things etc

One day it gets to the point where she wakes up from a nightmare and in a angry, panicked haze goes and just wrecks a nearby building all on her own. She realizes someone might see her and rushed back to the warehouse, finding Twobrains awake. She apologizes, thinking she woke him up, but his sleep schedule has never been and will never be normal so he was just up on his own doing god knows what

He at first doesn’t think much of it other then that it’s weird she’s up so late, but catches on that she’s off when she keeps hanging around him but not talking.

She wants comfort and is just highkey affection starved but he’s not really the one she would go to for it and she doesn’t feel that she deserves it after doing something bad but she doesn’t want to be alone and he’s like the main adult in her life now and she just keeps spiraling until Twobrains who’s just been 🧍‍♂️ this whole time decides he doesn’t have time for the Becky-overthinking thing and picks her up in like the proper holding a child way

She’s very confused and he goes “You can tell me if you want. You don’t have to though, but you’re alright kiddo. Don’t start thinking you’re not n’ all that jazz.”

She just kind of leans into his shoulder quietly and he holds her with one arm while grabbing cheese snacks and stuff and then sits down with her to watch some late-night tv. They end up falling asleep on the couch together like that

So yeah Becky kindof does similar crimes to Tobey, rage/pain/panic-induced destruction but she’s not public about it, so no one knows who’s doing it. The regret she feels afterwards becomes less and less, and after spending so much time with villains the way the city treated her badly not only becomes clearer to her, it exacerbates SOOO much to the point where she starts internally hating the city a bit. She doesn’t want to but she gets in these mental spirals a lot and starts nitpicking every little time something has happened that she felt stressed or unappreciated by people in her life, and it makes it worse

Her mental state isn’t exactly getting worse, she’s healing previously repressed trauma in a lot of ways, but it’s not really improving because as much as they want to help and as good of listeners a lot of the villains are, and as nice it is to be apart of their support system now, they don’t really encourage healthy coping mechanisms

this is kindof where things go static for a bit. WG is a secret villain in the city but like not really, she’s living with Twobrains who’s getting really attached to his new child and they’ve got a sweet relationship but it’s still built on a very rocky foundation, especially with Squeaky purposefully trying to turn WG evil

Okay goodnight AKFHAJDH

[compressingsins]

An Owls Cry

Requested by; @aestetikwoi (it's not highlighting your name) :(

Pairing; Hard Dom! Bokuto x chubby f!reader

Warning; Dom, virgin Bokuto, sub, virgin reader, body praise, love marks, rough sex, overstimulation, aftercare, teenage love, overstimulation makes reader cry

Summary; Bokuto is so oblivious sometimes, and you knew this when you started dating. You know you're plus sized, but why do people have to rub it in your face, when you're insecure about it.

When you invite him over to your house for a sleepover, because your parents are gone, he realizes how you're acting and then his emo mode is activated. You barely give him attention, and he takes note that you're upset.

There he is! Your boyfriend, Kotarou Bokuto, practicing with his teammates. You came in to give him his breakfast, you always make for him. Every morning, you make him breakfast that consist of meat buns, pork chops, chicken and some sides.

You know he loves meat, and you told him you didn't mind cooking for him. You two are still in school, but you act like you're already married which you both love. You wrap his lunch box with owl wrappings, and a yellow bow.

He absolutely loves it, when you do that and seeing him smile, brightens your entire day. As you were walking up, with a great big smile, you stopped once you saw some girls giving him food.

You know how he is with food, and you knew he'd accept it. Though, he looked like he was enjoying it way to much for comfort. Akaashi saw you, and gestured for you to come to them. You shrugged and awkwardly smiled before shaking your head.

He knew what the problem was, obviously. Your boyfriend is too oblivious, not even sensing that those girls are flirting with him. Akaashi glanced over to Bokuto, and then began jogging your way.

Akaashi is your bestfriend, and has been since your first year. He's the one who helped Bokuto to confess to you. Bokuto asked you halfway through your first year, so you've been together for a while.

"Goodmorning, Y/N." Akaashi smiled at you, and embraced you in a hug he always welcomes you with. "You alright?" He could see the hurt and sadness in your face.

You shrugged. "Yeah-" You looked over his shoulder to see your air headed boyfriend, still enjoying himself with other girls food. Then, you sighed and looked back at Akaashi. "-I'm fine."

This may have happened before, but you haven't seen it. "He doesn't want them Y/N-" You looked him in the eyes, knowing that's what was crossing your mind. "-he's just too oblivious to understand what flirting is." He sighed.

You knew that was the case. Your boyfriend is too focused on volleyball, to even know what certain actions are. Even with the fawning all over him, he still doesn't understand.

Though, you still have your doubts. You know guys mainly prefer slimmer girls, and that's what they are. Slim, healthy, and pretty which always make you insecure.

Akaashi knows how you feel about skinny girls around your boyfriend. He also knows that girls will practically do anything to be with Bokuto, and himself. But, he also knows that Bokuto is strung out on you.

All Bokuto ever talks about, whenever him and Akaashi are messaging, is you. You're the main topic to his life's story, and Akaashi knows it. Bokuto just doesn't know that he makes you feel this way.

He doesn't even neccesarily know about your insecurities. You've told him before, but he just forgets the next day when he practices in volleyball. You never really minded his obliviousness, you actually found it cute, but not in situations like this.

"Y/N-" Akaashi called, your eyes snapping up to his face.

"Yeah?" You asked, looking at him then slightly glancing at Bokuto. Everytime you see it, it nearly breaks you.

"You know, even though Bokuto's my bestfriend, I can say this." Your left eye hitched in a questioning manner. "I know, you're my bestfriend too but you're so beautiful, okay?"

Your heart fluttered, knowing that Akaashi was always straight forward. Though, you knew he's only your bestfriend and you're only his. That's all you two want, but sometimes Akaashi, wishes he confessed to you before Bokuto.

He was about to, but he knows Bokuto would forever be in Emo mode, if he had confessed back then. Akaashi can settle on being your bestfriend, and won't cross that line of trying to force his love on you. He appreciates your friendship, in all honesty.

He's happy you're with Bokuto, but he doesn't like it sometimes. Though, he doesn't complain. "I know, your insecurities Y/N, but you need to know that you're absolutely, beautiful."

Your lip began quivering. "No, I'm not..." You sighed, your heart nearly breaking just seeing your boyfriend still with those girls. He's still laughing with them, and hasn't even acknowledged that you were here, yet.

"Yes, you are Y/N-" Your gaze averted to Akaashi, once again. "-I'd prefer you, over any of those skinny girls." He then smirked playfully. "Your body, is like a pillow."

You chuckled and shook your head. "Well, Ko doesn't seem to like it." That phrase alone, almost made you cry. Your boyfriend loves hugging you, but sometimes you can't help but think it's for show.

Even if you been together for so long, you just can't help but let your insecurities take over. The thought of seeing him with someone else, really fucking disturbs your entire being. You've been broken too many times, therefore, this'll hurt if an on recurring theme happens again.

Your mind was stuck in a trance. An awake nightmare that only lasted thirty seconds. You didn't even notice Akaashi gently grasping your shoulder. He shook you, and then your eyes fluttered to his face. "Y/N?"

"Huh?" Confused, you were. You almost forgot what was happening, shaking your head to brush it off. "Actually, Kei..." You sighed, and smiled faintly. "I've gotta go to class y'know... before I'm late." You pointed back, as you began walking.

"You're not going to give Bokuto his breakfast?" He asked, looking at the box before back up at you. You looked down and nodded.

"Oh-" You walked closer to him, and held the box in his face. "-can you give it to him, for me? I don't wanna..." You sighed and looked over at Bokuto. "...go over there, with them."

He grabbed the box and looked at it, "Uh... sure, Y/N." He looked up at you, as you smiled slightly before turning. You were about to leave until you heard...

"HEY HEY HEY, Y/N!" Bokuto nearly shouted and ran to you with open arms. You didn't even turn to him, only letting him embrace you and hold you in the air.

You smiled a little at this, but you didn't let it be seen. Those girls, however, didn't like what they were seeing. Akaashi knows those girls a game and plan.

They only want to get with Bokuto, so they can have fame around the school. Being the ace's girlfriend, is something to kind of brag about. You however, didn't care for school fame and popularity.

Those girls did, though. Most of them try to use Bokuto to get close to Akaashi, and he knows it. He doesn't want them though, so he just focuses on his grades and volleyball.

"Hey, Ko..." You chuckled a little, when he turned you to face him. Now face to face, he's still holding you up in the air. His arms around your back, squeezing you slightly. His smile was like no other, always brightening your days.

Those yellow eyes were always piercing your heart, filling it to the max with more love you could ever have had for him. "Hey babe!" Bokuto kissed you, which you returned with passion.

You're still sad, but you don't want him to see you unhappy. You know he'll be in his sad mode, which you don't like seeing. Though, you think it's cute but when he sees you, it instantly goes away.

The kiss was quick, but it was elegant and sweet. You pulled away and he smiled, once more brightly. He let you down, now towering over you with his arms still around your waist.

He always does this. Clinging onto you, which you truly love. His touch is always so calming and relaxing, which calms your nerves. You nearly forgot about those girls, until you caught a glimpse of them.

You sighed and fixated your gaze back upon your boyfriend. You smiled to act as if you didn't see those girls, which you full well know you did. If he knew you were sad, he'd get sad and you don't want that for yourself nor the team or Akaashi.

"Hey Ko." You smiled, and so did he. "Here's your-" You looked around for Akaashi and took his breakfast box, out of Akaashi's hands. "-your breakfast."

His mouth was watering at the sight, then instantly, he embraced you in another hug. You were happy that he's happy. "Thank you so much Babe!" His hugs are always good. That's another thing you love so much about him. Although, you love everything about him.

He grabbed the breakfast you made, and opened it. His eyes nearly twinkled, your food always delicious. Everytime he sees your food, his heart expands with how much you make for him and all the effort you put into it.

"Oh boy, this looks delicious!" He didn't even say grace, only stuffing his face immediately. You chuckled and smiled, his face so cute whenever it's full of food. He was getting food everywhere, so you pulled out a napkin.

"Ko-" He stopped with a hum, food still stuffed in his mouth. Raising the napkin, you reached to his face and wiped the smeared slightly on his face. "you're getting food all over your face."

He tensed at your touch at first, but relaxed as your hand moved over his skin. You balled the napkin up in your hand, and began rubbing his cheek getting the rest of the food. He was froze, your soft touch softening his eyes.

He leaned into your hand, the girls behind you getting angered and agitated with this. You gulped and retracted your hand from him, almost shyly. "Well, I'll see you tonight, right?" He looked at you almost confused.

"What, you're leaving already?" His hair slightly began drooping. "But why?" He stopped eating, getting all sad which you didn't like. You frowned, and approached him.

His puppy dog face, whenever he's sad, hurts you. "I've gotta go to class, Ko. I'll see you tonight, okay?" He was still sulking though, his heart sinking in his chest.

"But Y/N..." He was genuinely sad, and it nearly broke your heart. You know you always stay an hour during his morning practice, but you just needed to go away for now. You knew those girls weren't leaving yet, but you didn't say anything about it.

You embraced him in a hug, holding him close to your plush body. You didn't want to let go though, only tightening it once he hugged you back. "I love you, so much okay Ko?" Your face rubbed in his chest, then looked up to his eyes. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

Once you said those three words, he smiled and hugged you tighter. "I love you so much, Y/N!" His hold was tight, really tight that could almost pop you but you loved it. You can't get enough of his hugs.

Once he let you go, you kissed him once more before leaving. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" He smiled brightly and nodded, watching as you walked away.

Akaashi then walked up to Bokuto. "Bokuto, you need to stay away from those girls over there." He pointed. "It's obvious from Y/N leaving early, you did something."

Bokuto however, was highly confused. "Akaashi! What do you mean by, I did something?! She had class to go to!" He almost shouted at his bestfriend. He was completely unaware of what he did, but Akaashi needed him to know. If he doesn't, it'll possibly lead to you breaking up with Bokuto.

"Yeah, that may be part of it but-" He pointed to the girls, Bokuto was previously with. "-she didn't like those girls all over you, which you were too oblivious to notice." Akaashi crossed his arms.

Bokuto was dumbfounded. You were... jealous? "Wait..." He looked down and back up all dramatically. "...you're telling me I made Y/N jealous?!" Akaashi simply nodded, arms still crossed. "If Y/N's jealous then that means..." His hair began drooping. "I made Y/N... sad."

Akaashi gasped, knowing what this is about to lead to. His Emo mode, which he doesn't necessarily want to deal with. He sighed, preparing himself to calm Bokuto down.

"I-" Bokuto started making Akaashi slightly anxious. "-don't deserve Y/N!" He waved his hand backwards, insinuating his seriousness. "I made her sad! For all I know, she's probably crying right now!"

He began rambling. Akaashi sighed as he touched Bokuto's shoulder, stopping him to look at him. "Bokuto, listen-" Akaashi sighed, as Bokuto was about to say something else. "-Y/N loves you, and wouldn't break up with you, okay?"

Bokuto was shocked. "She's in love with you and don't want to get rid of you, alright? She was just hurt by that situation. You know, being touched by those girls is something she didn't like." Akaashi explained.

"Really?" He asked, nearly on the verge of tears. He's so in love with you, but he just didn't understand what he was doing. He doesn't want to lose you because of his own mistake, he did not realize was occurring.

Akaashi nodded. "Yes, really Bokuto." Akaashi was nearly always serious, but Bokuto could hear it in his tone and see it in his expression. "She doesn't want anyone else but you, which is weird." He smirked a little, being sarcastic with his remark.

Bokuto cheered up and smiled, slightly. "So what do I do? I don't wanna lose my Y/N, Akaashi..." He sounded so broken, and torn away from you. He felt like any minute now, you'd text him to break up with him.

"You're going to her house, tonight right?"

"Yeah, for a sleepover."

Akaashi nodded. "Then maybe, you should just apologize to her. It's not much you should do, just tell her that you're only dedicated to her because that-" Again pointing back, not caring if they saw. "-didn't seem like you wanted her."

Bokuto gasped and stumbled back. "I surely don't want them!" He didn't even care, if they heard him. "They're not my type at all! I only want my baby, Y/N! She's so beautiful, and nobody can tell me different!" He was borderline screaming this time.

The girls looked hurt from this, but he doesn't care. It's not his problem, so why should he care. You're the only one he wants, so he's going to be blunt about it and say fuck them girls.

He walked away from Akaashi and over to the girls and snatched his jacket, from one of them. "Give me!" He shouted while taking it, he took his other things that were around them and went over to Akaashi again.

He placed his things on the floor by his bag. Akaashi must say, he's impressed with what his bestfriend did. Bokuto never is blunt with people like that, so for him to do that, it was quite impressing and satisfying to watch.

Akaashi looked back at the girls to see them scrambling out the gym. He was trying so hard not to laugh, biting his lip to conceal it. He turned back to Bokuto and smiled. He walked over to him and sat beside him, on the opposite bench.

"That was... impressive Bokuto." Bokuto was pouting with his arms crossed, but he was listening to Akaashi. Bokuto's proud of himself as well, so he can't help the smile that's slowly curling on his lips.

Akaashi meant what he said. He doesn't typically praise Bokuto, unless he's in that Emo mode of his. This time though, it was truly needed.

"You better tell Y/N you love her, right now, though." He said, knowing that you're probably still feeling down from this.

Bokuto jumped up. "Yeah!" He went to his bag and pulled out his phone. Once he turned the screen on, seeing you and him as his wallpaper, he sees that he already has a message from you already.

A message that says; I love you...

His heart was beating out his chest. She didn't break up with me! He was relieved, and really happy to see that you haven't broken up with him. He can't stop his huge smile, but he still feels a little bad.

He instantly replied; I LOVE YOU MORE Y/N! I'M COMING OVER EARLY OKAY?!

He sent his message but didn't close out the text chat. He always wait for you to text back, whenever he's not busy. As soon as he saw the three bubbles, his smile widen even more just waiting for your reply.

'I love you more Ko. So so much and I miss you...'

He's now flustered, loving how you miss him. He misses you more, and honestly he can't wait till he can come over. He knows he has to apologize, and that's exactly what he plans on doing.

~~~~~~~

You yawned loudly, tired and waiting for your parents to leave. You're laying on your bed, waiting for your boyfriend to come over. Your parents know about him coming over, for you're the one who asked.

Of course they approved, but they are cautious just a little. Bokuto's been over to your house before and has met your parents, and they love him. From his personality, they know he isn't the type to try anything on their daughter.

Necessarily, they're not too worried about it. You wrapped your covers around your body tighter, snuggling up to keep warm in the fairly cool room. You always kept the A.C on, because it's comfortable when you're warm as well.

You're not really paying attention to the television, just letting it play as background noise. You kept getting cute texts from your boyfriend whos on his way right now. He won't stop texting you, which you kept giggling at. He's so adorable!

About twenty more minutes pass, and you get a text from Bokuto saying that he's here. You're so excited, but you remembered that your parents are here.

Your dad grasped your bedroom doorknob and turned it, only peaking his head through. You jumped slightly at the unexpected burst through the door. "Y/N!"

"Dad!" You shouted, as you sat up on your bed and throwing your covers off. "I wish you'd knock instead of almost knocking my door off the freaking wall."

He chuckled. "Well, your boyfriend is here." You nodded lazily, already knowing that your boyfriend is here. "If you want him to come in then-"

You pushed pass your dad. "I know Dad, I know he's here stop being lame." You scoffed, which he only laughed at. He followed behind you as you walked to the front door of your house.

You could hear his voice, as you approached. He was talking to your mother about something, but you didn't know what. Once he saw you, he smiled brightly and you could tell he wanted to hug you.

Your mom let him in, as her and your dad slipped out. They were hugging onto each other as Bokuto gave you a quick hug. You both had one arm around each other, while your parents did the same.

"Now, Kotaro, I want you to take care of our little girl, okay?" Your dad said, with a hint of worry in his voice. Bokuto nodded and said yessir. "Y/N, you take care of the house and remember-" He paused to see if you remembered what he always told you.

"I know Dad, I know-" Bokuto looked down at you with adoration. "-make sure to lock up the house, after you leave." He jumped like a little kid, which you found so lame.

"Have a good time honey-" Your mom winked to you. "-you too, Kotaro." She smiled, making him smile too.

They began walking to the car, but your dad kept turning to say something. "You know where everything is-"

"Okay hun." Your mom kept interfering, trying to get him to stop talking.

"The snacks-" He continued. Your mom kept trying to stop him. "-all the movies. Everything." You closed the door as he kept talking, which you know he's going to be pretty bummed out about once they get back.

"Goodbye-" You said, closing the door with one hand on your hip. When you turned around, you saw Bokuto staring at you. "-what?" You asked him.

"Nothing babe, your parents are so cool!"

You shook your head as you walked pass him, as he followed behind. "My Mom is but my Dad-" You rolled your eyes. "-he's so lame sometimes, I swear." You walked in your kitchen and leaned on the counter.

Bokuto came in with you and placed his bag, that he brung over. "I think he's cool all the time, babe."

You rolled your eyes. "You have no idea." You sighed. "So, did you get here safely, babe?" You asked him.

He nodded with a bright smile. "Yeah! I missed you so much!" He unzipped his bag and started pulling things out. "So I bought you some stuff!" Well, you're excited.

"Babe, I told you-"

"I know-" He cut you off quickly. "-but I wanted to apologize to you Y/N. I know how I made you feel today, and I'm so sorry." You titled your head, a little confused as to what he's referring to. He saw your look and said, "Those girls."

You nodded with closed eyes. "It's fine Ko, it hasn't even been on my mind honestly."

"I know!" He came over to you quickly, which shocked you. "And I know I don't deserve you!" Your eyes were wide, and you tried stopping him. "I love you so much! I didn't even realize they were flirting with me, I promise!"

You didn't know what to say. The way he's pouring so much emotion into this, has you on the verge of tears. "Kotaro..." You mumbled.

"But Y/N please!" He grabbed both of your hands, staring into your eyes. You almost broke once you saw his eyes watering up. "Please don't leave me, I'm sorry!"

He kept repeating that over and over as you instantly hugged him. He was nearly crying, but you rubbed his hair and his back to let him know that you already forgave him.

"It's okay Kotaro..." You whispered against his shoulder. He was sobbing, slightly then wrapped his arms around your body hugging you tightly. "...I don't and won't leave you, okay?" You confessed. "It was just a simple mistake, and I don't hate you for it at all. I love you so much... I love you..."

His grip on your body tightened, now pulling you up to wrap all the way around his body. His head was in your neck, and so was yours. You could feel water drops falling on your shoulder, but you didnt mind it.

Your eyes were watering too, and tears began to fall. You were shocked at how fast this escalated. Already, you knew Bokuto was in love with you and still is. There's no doubt about it, especially when he's crying over you.

Both of you embraced each other for a while, not wanting to let go for a second thinking each other would be gone if you did. Once you pulled away, you both looked at each other and laughed softly.

"Don't cry-" You said said. "-even though, it's cute." He smiled and kissed you once, then twice, then a third time which got heated. On the fourth kiss, he held it and suckled at your lips.

His lips were slightly rough, but you loved them. Your lips were soft with cherry blossom lip balm, that he can't seem to get enough of.

Wrapping his arms back around you, he picked you up and placed you on the counter. Without wasting any time, he opened your legs and settled between them.

His strong hand went to your head, as he began pulling you closer to his face until your lips came in contact. When kissing, Bokuto was always nearly eating your face off.

His lips would fully cover yours, occasionally sticking his tongue in your mouth and suck on yours. Sometimes, it'd do too far. Like now, he's rutting his hips into your thigh.

You push at his chest. "Ko-" But he kept dominating your mouth, and rutting his hips into your thigh. You're both virgins, so you know this can escalate. "Babe, stop." You sighed, breaking the kiss.

He looked so disappointed. "But, why? I wanna show you how sorry I am." He began pressing kisses to your neck. His hands now roaming your body, while his mouth was placing kisses all over you.

You tried stopping him, but when his clothed member brushed up agaisnt your crotch, you moaned. He felt that too and angled his hips to brush up against your clit.

His wondering hands slid down your back, to your bottom to pull you harder agaisnt his restrained cock. You could feel it bulging, the thickness of it slightly scarring you.

He pressed himself harder into your clit, so he can grind and create extra friction agaisnt your nub. He kept rutting his hips into yours, everytime you tried pushing him away. He was groaning against your skin, as you were moaning and keeping a firm grip on his shoulders.

As you were enjoying the feeling in your lower region, Bokuto ceased all movements including the ones on your neck and face. You whimpered in disappointment, until he picked you up and placed you in his arms as a seat.

Without a second, he latched his mouth back onto yours as he walked to your bedroom. He's been in there before too, so he knows it all too well. Wrapping one arm around you, he used his free hand to push your door open.

As soon as he put you down, his arms wrapped back around you and his knee went in between your crotch, bumping your heated nub. His knee began moving back in fourth, as his mouth was latched onto your neck.

It was going way too fast, but you didn't want him to stop honestly. Bokuto hit a sweet spot on your neck and began sucking, once he heard your sweet soft moan. You could feel his smile on your neck and your hands went to his shoulders.

Your moans couldn't be concealed. His tongue was ghosting over your sweet spot, tickling it and leaving a mark. Your nails dug into his shoulders, making him groan and thrust his knee harder into your crotch. Your body was betraying you, the wetness of your cunt slipping out.

"You taste good~" Bokuto groaned agaisnt your neck. "Can't nobody touch you, but me Y/N~" His voice was filled with lust, which wasn't really how Bokuto was. You were slightly pissed that he was placing hickeys on your neck, where everyone can see it.

Bokuto removed his hands from your body and lightly pushed you onto the bed. His hands went to your thighs, giving you a firm squeeze before he pushed your legs open. Bokuto was really fast, once his body layed flushed against yours, his fingers looped into the band of your panties.

You shuddered, but he kissed you so you wouldn't stop him. His index finger slid against your slit, lightly grazing your clit. You moaned into his mouth, which he allowed his tongue to slip in.

Bokuto stopped kissing you and sat up on his knees to look at your exposed bottom. Your hands went to your face, because you've never been so vulnerable before. One of his hands grabbed both of yours and kept a tight grip on them.

"No Baby Owl, I wanna see your face~" Your eyes were closed, but when he said that you opened your eyes to stare into his beautiful yellow ones. He smiled upon seeing your face. "I don't know what I'm doing Y/N, but..." His fingers slipped to your clit and began circling it.

You never felt this before, your body slightly shivering which he loved. He loved the way you were reacting to him, your body slightly trembling. Though, he removed his fingers to stand. His hands went to his zipped up jacket to remove it.

Your face heated up as you saw how well the tank top he was wearing was complimenting his toned muscles. His arms stuck out, which your face lit up to. He didn't waste any time to pull his tank top over his head too, the lines of his abs making your cunt spasm around nothing.

He sat himself on his knees, still settled in front of you. He grabbed your legs and layed them on both of his spread open thighs. Your cunt was bare to his eyes, which he could feel his cock twitching from. His fingers went back to lightly stroking your clit, the tingles running through your nerves.

"Y/N-" You looked up to him. "-I don't know how to prepare you, but I think this is it." He didn't let you respond as his fingers swirled around your virgin hole. Your body jolted forward, already sensitive from nothing.

He was so gentle, but his rough fingers were already nearing your climax. He watched as your cunt spasmed, his thumb massaging your pearl while the other was prepping you. You were moaning softly which made Bokuto look up.

He admired your cute expression, the way your eyes closed from the feeling of his strokes. You shuddered, now his fingers moving faster to work up an orgasm. You never felt anything like this, and your orgasm was coming fast.

This would be your first orgasm, from somebody else. That's probably why it's coming more intense, than an orgasm from yourself. But when you were right on the edge, he stopped making you whine.

"Why'd you stop, Ko?" You asked.

He smirked. "I don't know how to say this but-" He looked down then back to your face. "-I want you to cum around my cock, and not my fingers."

You're face heated up, and you became a little anxious because it's your first time.

"Only if you wanna continue." He stared into your eyes, and waited for you to give him permission. He wasn't gone force you, because that's not who Bokuto is. He wants your consent, and if he doesn't got it, he won't touch you.

You nodded. "Yeah I want to continue." You told him, which he smiled to.

"Can I take off your shirt?" He stared into your eyes when he asked. You never been naked in anybody's eyes, but your own in the mirror but you love Bokuto so much. You looked away for a second and then nodded. He smiled brightly. "You're so beautiful."

He praised you before he even took your shirt off. His hands slipped under your shirt, slowly lifting it up over your head. Once he took it off, his mouth literally watered from seeing your plush body.

Your eyes were wide at his reaction. He didn't seem disgusted with your body, his hands giving your plush light squeezes. He didn't care for unclipping your bra, your body already making him fall in love with you. He didn't need to see your breast, but he still gave them attention through the fabric.

He was groaning at the contact his hands were making as they caressed your soft flesh. You were in love, because he doesn't hate your body. He loves it, and you can truly see that.

Bokuto was quick to turn you on your stomach. You were a little confused, but when you felt his hands caressing the soft flesh of your back you whined in satisfaction. His hands jiggled your rolls, which made you bury your head in the pillow.

Bokuto was in love. Your body is so beautiful to him so he wanted to see more. His hands went to the clip of your bra and unclipped it. He took it and threw it to the side, and caressed the sides of your breasts as you lay on your stomach.

He groaned in satisfaction, the feeling of your plush making his mind hazy. His hand went to your plush ass and kneaded the flesh so gently. He then leaned down and placed a kiss to your right cheek, which made you jerk in surprise.

He sat up and massaged over the kiss he placed on your cheek. "Mine..." You here him mumble from behind you. Your heart was nearly exploding, his praises making you love him more.

His hands went under the front of your thighs as he pulled you by the hips to press you to him. He watched as your cunt was dripping slick down your thighs. His finger slid up your slit, quickly.

Your body trembled in his hands, but he loved that. He loves how well your body responds to him. He grabbed the front of his pants and began yanking them down. You could hear it as it slid down.

Your breathing now a little ragged, anxious because of this. You don't want him to stop though. You could now hear him working to release himself from his boxers. You tried turning but he placed his hand on the back of your head to keep your head forward.

"No, I want it to be a surprise babe." He said, and pushed your head down in the mattress.

"Be gentle babe..." You nearly begged, as his hands began caressing your ass to sooth your nerves.

"I promise." He said, as he gripped his cock and began jerking it to prepare himself too. You could hear him spit and the spit hit his cock as lube. He doesn't want to hurt you, so he's being extra careful. "I'll try to go in slow."

You gulped and nodded as you felt him maneuver behind you. Your body shuddered, once you felt it poking at your entrance. His hand on your head went to the tip of his cock to help him push in.

His other hand went to your left cheek and lifted up the flesh to watch as he enters you. You tensed once he began ripping through your walls. He didn't stop though as you winced and tried reaching back for him.

He grabbed your hand and held it tightly, as he continued to push in. "Ko-"

"I know it hurts babe..." He sighed as your walls began spasming around the tip his cock. "...I'm sorry." He snapped his hips and buried himself balls deep inside you, making you shriek and slam your head into the mattress.

He instantly felt regret. "Babe! I'm so sorry!" He layed his chest to your back, and stayed there while rubbing soothing circles on your hips.

"It's okay..." You managed to get out. He was kissing your neck lovingly, while repeating sorry. He really didn't like you being in pain, which almost made him cry.

You felt so full though. You don't know his size, but from the feel of it you could tell he's big. The thickness and length overfilling your insides. You could feel him pulsing inside you, and the veins on his cock beating agaisnt your walls.

Once the pain subsided, you moaned of relief. Looking back, you whispered to him to move. "You can move, babe." You told him.

He smiled and placed one more kiss to your neck. Bokuto pulled out, only to sit up and grip your hips to slow drive himself back in. You both moaned in sync, his length making you moan.

Bokuto's grip was tight, his teeth clenching and eyes clenching shut. Your eyes were shut but your mouth hung open. He was moving in a slow pace trying to make sure he doesn't hurt you.

Though, you could feel his tip reaching the deepest parts of you. Your hands gripped the bedsheets, and your hips began arching into his.

He looked down to where you're connected and saw that you're already creaming around him. He was moving faster into you, now making his balls tap lightly on your clit.

"You feel... so good- fuck!- Y/N~" Bokuto moaned out. The grip your walls were contracting on his cock, nearly choking him and trapping him in.

You gripped the bedsheets tightly, no words leaving your mouth as he began picking up his pace.

You were moaning and nearly ripping the sheets up. His hips began slamming into yours, the sound of your ass clapping against his lap was resonating through the room.

He couldn't help but stare at it. Your ass jiggling and rippling agaisnt his thighs at the impact. His mouth hung open, and he pushed your arching back down as he gripped your waist to go harder.

His short nails, for volleyball, dug into your waist to thrust harder. His grasp was tight, his hips now thrusting harder into you. "Stay down babe- I'll do it for you~" His voice cracked at the end, his tip now sweetly kissing your cervix.

You both are now sweating and panting. His hair wasn't sticking up anymore, now sticking to his sweaty face and yours were sticking to your face.

You could feel your previous denied orgasm approaching. You chocked on your spit, his cock abusing your cervix. His hips moving even faster now, the veins in his cock adding extra stimulation.

Bokuto began moaning out, and so were you. His cock felt so good, the thickness nearly making you stupid. Stupid for his cock.

Bokuto laid his chest on your back, now his left arm wrapping around your neck. His hand began sliding down your stomach and to your neglected bud. His fingers began rubbing furiously, making your back arch into his hips.

The new arch in your back is making his cock abuse your cervix even more. His fingers began flicking and rubbing harder, as he slowly began pounding into you hard.

"Kotaro!" You moan-shouted.

The stimulation was nearly too much to handle. You were on the verge of tears, his cock was ramming you so good. The stimulation he's giving your body, is way too much that you can hardly handle it.

You've never felt this much pleasure from anything before. His fingers were pinching your pearl while rubbing it vigorously. You began moving your hips back to meet his deep thrusts.

Bokuto removed his hand from your clit and joined his other wrapped arm around your neck. His face was in your neck too, and you could hear his ragged breathing and deep moans in your ear.

His hips were slamming into you know, your walls instantly clamped down hard on him.

"I'm coming Ko~!" He grunted in response, his hips now slowing down so you could feel all the veins bulging against your walls. You were shaking, your walls spasming randomly on his cock.

Bokuto's hips thrusted three more times, before his tip hit your g-spot and your band snapped your toes curling. Your face dug into the bed as Bokuto's hips still moved, your orgasm ripping through your abdomen.

Your eyes rolled back inside your closed eyelids. Bokuto continued riding your orgasm out, his hips stuttering as he moaned out and spurted inside you.

You couldn't even focus on that, his moving hips still making you quiver. He sat up and gripped your waist, his eyes closed as he continued to rut in and out of you.

He let your hips go to place his hands on the sides of your head to hold his body up. You were now trembling and so was he, your cream coating his cock the sight so erratic.

"Y/N~" He moaned deeply as he slowly moved himself in and out of you, and then stopped his hips. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your shoulder blade. "I love you~" He whimpered while slowly pulling his cock out, and making your body tremble.

You honestly couldn't move. He stood up and away from you, and walked into your bathroom to wet a rag. He came back and spread your legs to clean you up.

What you can't believe, is that you let him have sex with you in your parents house. Not only that, but he came in you too. You quivered at the contact the rag made with your leaking cunt.

"Kotaro..." You whimpered.

"I know babe. I'll get you something for that but you were squeezing me so tight!" You chuckled and pushed yourself to sit up. He went back into your bathroom and rinsed the rag off.

Once he came back, he instantly cuddled with your head in his chest.

"When are your parents coming back?" He asked.

You shrugged. "I don't-" And a knock on the door cut you off. Your eyes widen as you began pushing at Bokuto's chest. "-right now!" He panicked and stood up scrambling to get your clothes.

You two shared a laugh as you were trying to get dressed. Once you did, Bokuto sat on your bed and turned the TV on to act as if you haven't done anything. He sprayed your air freshener to get rid of the smell which worked.

You walked to your door and whispered, "Act like nothing happened." Bokuto chuckled with a big smile and nodded, as you then walked to the front door.

Yeah, it was your parents coming back to get something. They didn't find out what you two did, and it made you and Bokuto laugh everytime.

He loves you so much, that he risked getting in trouble for you. He didn't mean to though, his obliviousness always getting the best of him.

You, however, don't doubt your boyfriend no more.

-

-

-

Okay! So this one was too long, but I did it for my requester. I really appreciated this request because, I AM IN LOVE WITH BOKUTO! All the other Haikyuu!! characters are great, but I just love Bokuto so much and wish he was real. ANYWAY, thank you requester!

[gaitwae]

Could you write a fic where Loki and female reader switch bodies and have to stay like that until someone figures how to turn them back?

Comment/reblog!

Tag List: @make-me-imagine @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword @xlehukax @electroma89 @joucebox @high-functioning-lokipath @lokislittlesigyn @kingix-the-confused-earthling @nilavey @superfangirl-romanogers @funsized-mimi

Warnings: A disgusting amount of fluff.

“Oh, for the last time, darling! You shouldn’t be messing with spells you don’t know the first thing of,” Loki scoffed behind you, making you jump and snap his spellbook shut. It was an odd thing to remember that Loki even had a spellbook, but you had to learn new spells somewhere, right? You were just a simple mortal, and you had no use for things like magic on Midgard.

Or so he told you.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s it to you?” you mumbled, turning around to face him. “I wanted to go over a new spell with you, if that was okay.” You put your hands together in front of you and smiled up at your friend. You tried for your best smile, which ultimately caused him to cave.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Alright. But is it within the range we spoke of? What we just went over? I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself so soon in your learning. Some messes just don’t clean as well as the others do.” He put his nose in the air as if he was remembering just how uncleanable past messes had been. He took your hands. “Let’s do the spell. Hurry. I haven’t got all day and I truly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of situation we can’t sort out ourselves.”

“It sounds like you’re noncommittal,” you teased, reciting the spell you had just read out of the spellbook not even seconds before Loki opened the door and walked in on you.

“I can be plenty committed. Just not to your self-destructive need to be a sorcerer,” he said airily, speaking through the incantation; he didn’t even comment on it. 

If he had even heard it.

When you finished the rest of your incantation, the spell started to take hold. You became woozy, and so did Loki. You crashed into his arms, and he collapsed on the floor with you in his embrace. He smelled like mint and some kind of harsh cologne, but it fitted him. It was the last piece of consciousness you could hold onto before you awoke...

+-+--

“Hey, Lokes, are you awake? Hellloooo?” Tony’s voice came. It sounded far away. You stretched, and you could still pick up that cologne from where you laid. It was less intense than you thought it would be from hardly smelling it at all. You opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked, and funnily enough, so did Loki. Odd choice of words.

“Stark!” someone called. You sat up to see who the person was, but your blood ran cold at the sight. “Stark, what happened? What has been done to me!? Where is—?” 

They stopped as well. There you were, your face, your voice, but... not you. You looked down at your hands. They weren’t yours. Your heart dropped significantly.

“How’s this even possible?” you asked, hearing Loki’s voice once again. “Am I—? Did we—?”

“Don’t do anything!” your voice came again, but littered with Loki’s speech pattern. “If you stain that Asgardian leather, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Oh, you’ll what?” you scoffed, standing. “I don’t even know how this happened! I’m surprised you haven’t started running your hands all over me!”

“Oh, please, we’re friends first,” you—Loki—mocked. Tony was staring at the two of you like you were talking about the finest boots to eat. He lifted a finger, but Loki raised a hand to stop him from even trying to speak. “It appears you’ve gotten us into a mess we cannot fix, haven’t you?”

“Will someone else have to change us back?” you asked. You stood, managed to walk over to Loki, and sat down. “I didn’t mean for us to... to...”

“Swapped,” Loki sighed. “We’re swapped. Either it’ll go away on its own or we’ll have to go to Asgard to convince my father to reverse us. How in the Nine did you find such a spell? It shouldn’t even be in the books!”

“Should I leave you two alone, then?” Tony asked. “Since, uh, you’re both acting extremely weird?”

“Yes,” you and Loki chorused. You crossed your arms and Loki mimicked you. Stark left quickly, leaving you two alone in the medical room, where only a blink ago you had been in a completely different room with Loki in his own body and you in yours.

Once he had shut the door, you watched your own body twist with Loki’s mannerisms and expressions. They turned to you and pushed your chest. You scoffed, gasping. “How could you even experiment with such a spell?!” they shouted. “We might be stuck like this forever! You made me mortal!”

“I wanted to swap our perspectives,” you admitted, gulping, “but I didn’t think it would lead to this!”

“What else could it have meant?!” Loki scolded. They put their hands in the air, then dropped them. They began pacing. “I’m stuck in your body! I may have wanted to hold it, but I certainly didn’t want to have it!” 

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to have your body, either,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to see how I look at you... I had thought...”

“Thought what? That suddenly I would fall for you? You’re out of luck there, mortal. It wouldn’t have gone the way you wanted it to,” Loki sighed, shaking their head. They sat on the cot where they had awakened from the spell. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” you said meekly. You looked down at your hands. Your heart was racing. It didn’t usually race when you spoke to Loki. The hands that had become yours, hopefully for a short period of time, were long and pale and so different from yours.

“How could I not, little mort—Y/N?” they asked. “It’s almost like watching someone sink into a depression; everyone can see it, but no one talks about it. I know you have feelings for me. I don’t blame you, though.”

“You don’t feel the same, do you?” you asked, sitting down on your cot. Loki shrugged. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t fall for you by seeing myself the way you do.” Loki picked at your nails. “Y/N, we shouldn’t be talking about this now, we should be finding a way to get out of each other’s bodies.”

You huffed a sigh. “We should ask Strange. He knows insane magic, and I doubt if I use your powers anything will change. I already botched this spell.” You laughed but stopped when you heard what it was. It wasn’t your laugh. It was odd. Laughter was determined by one’s body, so it made sense that it wouldn’t have been yours... 

“Oh! Brilliant idea!” Loki praised falsely. Clearly, they must have still been upset about the swapping bodies thing. 

You were disappointed in yourself for it, too. “Can we just go and see him? It’ll take no time at all.”

“He isn’t even home," they sighed, wiping their face with your hand. It was hard to watch. "Why must you be so perfect? Being so adorably shy that you cannot even ask me if I love you back?"

Your heart thumped. No, no. Loki's heart thumped for you. "...Don't mock me while you're in my body. I can still hurt you."

Loki narrowed their eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I so would!" you announced, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out.

"Hurting me goes against loving me, doesn't it?" Loki asked, slightly panicky. "You couldn't draw my blood, could you?"

"I won't draw blood," you promised. "I just have your daggers on my person, and I've never really cared for this stupid Asgardian leather..."

"This is going to be a long time waiting for Strange to be back, isn't it?" Loki groaned. You nodded happily. You scooped your own body to his body's chest.

"Oh, yeah. Swapped, for better or for worse."

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter five rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“Why are you in such a mood?” Ned asked his best friend as they walked to their college campus. Peter had been grumpy all morning and Ned was quick to notice. He usually showed up at Ned’s door exhausted but eager to share the adventures from the night before, but he seemed defeated today.

“I got my ass beat last night.” Peter grumbled as he shouldered his backpack.

“By who?” Ned wondered.

“I don’t even know.” Peter sighed. “I think it was some kind of alien.”

“What’d it look like?” Ned asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to ask a million questions after being told something Spider-Man related. After all, he was the guy in the chair.

“Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Peter said swallowed and tried to push the previous night from his mind. He’d rather focus on this morning, and the moment he had shared with you. Peter felt such a strong connection to you, and he would’ve stayed on that rooftop all day if he could.

“Describe it to me.” Ned pleaded, tearing Peter from his thoughts.

“I don’t know. It was like eight feet tall, black, and bald. And it was super veiny.” Peter grimaced while Ned’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God. You fought Shaquille O’Neal?” Ned gasped.

“Keep your voice down. I did not fight Shaquille O’Neal.” Peter whispered harshly. Ned always seemed one step away from blowing Peters cover. Peter gave bashful smiles to the passing students who gave him weird looks upon hearing Ned’s words.

“Terry Crews?” Ned continued. Peter rolled his eyes at his best friend and starting walking to class.

“No. This is serious.” Peter said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

“I know it’s serious. You got beat up by The Rock.” Ned remarked. Peter fidgeted with the strings on his backpack, still bothered knowing he was beaten so easily by Venom.

“The Rock is Samoan, not black.” Peter corrected.

“I know. But I heard “bald” and I just automatically envisioned The Rock.” Ned defended.

“There’s another thing. It had this huge, gaping mouth with rows and rows of teeth. I keep thinking about it.” Peter shivered. “It came so close to me. And its tongue was super long. It was like a cracked out frog.”

“So a ninja turtle? You got beat up by a ninja turtle?” Ned gawked.

“It wasn’t a ninja turtle.” Peter snapped. “ It was black, remember?”

“So an emo ninja turtle.” Ned deadpanned.

“It kept saying “we”. “ Peter remembered.

“What do you mean?”

“There was only one of them, but they only referred to themself as “we” as if there were multiple of them.” Peter explained.

“Do you think there could be more? Like an alien army or something?” Ned asked incredulously. Peter hadn’t even thought about that.

“Maybe. I remember something else, it’s name was Venom.” Peter recalled. He distinctly remembered those words coming out of the creatures mouth.

“Venom?” Ned repeated, clearly finding it cool.

“Yeah. And I told it my name. I used my regular voice too.” Peter realized. He usually disguised his voice when speaking, but he had been so scared that he forgot to. It haunted him knowing the creature now knew who he was and he wondered if it knew both of his identities.

“Wow. This is so cool. Not cool for you, because you might die. But this is super cool for me.” Ned smiled as he envisioned what Venom might look like.

“Thanks, ned. Actually, wait.” Peter stopped in his tracks. “One more thing happened.”

“What?” Ned whispered as they approached their class.

“Venom was about to eat me but then it started talking to itself. It sounded maybe like it was having a conversation with someone? I’m not sure, I could only hear one side of it.” Peter explained. “It put me down, well it threw me down, and let me go. But before it left, it said something about a girl. I don’t really remember. I was too focused on catching my breath.”

“Catching your breath? Were you running?”

“No. It choked me.” Peter told him as he lightly touched his neck.

“Kinky.” Ned smirked as he took a seat next to Peter in their class.

“That’s gross.” Peter stifled a laugh. “Did I tell you about this morning with Y/N?”

“No. Tell me.” Ned said. He wasn’t disappointed in the change of topic. He was glad Peter had moved on on from Liz, finally. Peter recounted the discussion he had with you that morning, barely getting through it without blushing and laughing at certain parts.

“I really like her, Ned. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. She’s so amazing. I barely know her, but I can tell already. I want to know everything about her. I want to hear her full story. And most of all, I want to be a part of that story.” Peter declared but frowned suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked.

“After our talk, we just kinda sat there staring at each other for a while.” Peter began. “She kinda leaned in, and I did too, but then this seagull flew by and scared us half to death. We laughed about it but the moment was gone.”

“So you almost kissed her?” Ned smiled. “Why is that upsetting you?”

“Because what if that was our chance and I blew it?” Peter feared. “What if that seagull was a sign from above that I was in way over my head? Like God was asking me who I was to think I could just kiss the most perfect girl in the world? She’s so cool, Ned. Way too cool for me. She’s already had a boyfriend and I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

“If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.” Ned assured him.

“Or, the same thing that happened with Liz will happen.” Peter argued. “I won’t tell her how I feel and then she’ll be gone forever.”

“Then don’t let that happen.” Ned reasoned. “Tell Y/N how you feel. Do it tonight, before you go on patrol. And if she doesn’t feel the same, then at least you’ll know. Isn’t it better to know?”

“When did you become such a love expert?” Peter teased as the professor walked into the room.

“Since I started dating Betty. She’s opened my eyes to what love really is.” Ned shrugged. “Tell her tonight. Then tell me how it goes. I’m here for you either way.”

Peter nodded and gave Ned a thankful smile before turning his attention to the professor.

On his walk home from campus, Peter spotted you walking down the sideways. Ned’s words of encouragement rang in his ears and he made a brash decision.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” Peter called after you, making you turn around.

“Hey Parker. How was kindergarten?” You teased him.

“Alright alright. Majoring in chemical engineering is hardly kindergarten. And I’m only one year younger than you.” Peter reminded you. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me, grandma.”

“Watch it, sonny.” You kept with the joke. “I’ll hit you with my purse and then say something mildly racist.”

“Just like my grandma.” Peter laughed in amusement. “We’re gross. And not funny.”

“We really are.” You scrunched your nose. “Couple of gross ass orphans.”

Peter laughed again, feeling comfortable enough with you to joke about a tragic situation.

“Look, Y/N, I really enjoyed our talk this morning. I really enjoyed all our talks so far actually. I guess I just like talking to you. ” Peter began. He looked nervous all the sudden, like he lost his stamina. You raised your eyebrows hopefully, as there were only so many ways this conversation could go.

“I like talking to you too, Peter.” You said honestly, hoping he’d continue. Hoping he’d ask that question. Your answer seemed to give Peter the confidence he needed to go on.

“Really? Um, that’s great cause I really like talking to you too. I already said that. Oh god. I’m crashing. I-“ he began to flail and you calmed him down by taking a few steps closer. You were almost touching at that point. He stopped talking immediately and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Is there someone you wanted to ask me, Peter?” You asked slowly as you looked at him through your eyelashes.

Damn. He was tall too.

“Yes, actually. I, um, will you…would you maybe want to-“

“Hiya kids!” A gravely voice came from the front stairs of your apartment, completely cutting Peter off. Peter looked up and angrily rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look now. It’s Henry.” Peter grumbled. Henry was the creepy neighbor with the foot fetish.

“Oh Dear God.” Peter said in a low voice.

“What?” You panicked when you saw Peters expression change.

“You’re wearing flip flops.” He pointed at your black painted toes and you felt the color drain from your face.

“Run!” He whispered harshly. You bolted into your apartment and Peter ran into his. Once inside, Peter blew out an angry breath. He had been interrupted twice in one day when trying to talk to you, and he worried that it was a sign.

Back at the apartment, you sat on your bed with headphones in. You were prepping for your interview with Cletus Kasady by writing down some questions you wanted to ask him. It was hard figuring out what to ask a serial killer. You looked at your notepad and sighed. All you had written down was “but why tho?” in sloppy handwriting. You tore out the page, crumbled it up, and threw it at the trash can. When you went to write something else down, you noticed the paper ball still stuck to your hand. You shook your hand but it still wouldn’t come off.

“What the hell?” You grumbled as you shook your hand.

“Oh. This might be our fault.” Venom said suddenly.

“What might be your fault?” You asked as you continued to shake the paper off your hand, but to no avail.

“We sort of went inside Spider-Man when we were talking to him yesterday.” Venom said timidly and the paper ball dropped from your hand.

“What?” You demanded and Venom went silent.

“Come out here.” You said, like an owner to a dog.

“We’d rather stay inside.” Venom said softly.

“Get out here now. You need to explain yourself young lady.” You said sternly. Venom slowly manifested and looked at you with sad eyes.

“I’m 600 million years old, by the way.” Venom added. “You can’t call me young lady.”

“What do you mean you went inside Spider-Man?” You ignored her comment.

“When we were choking him we put one of our tendrils inside him and swirled around.” Venom explained. “He didn’t even feel it. We did though. He’s very squishy on the inside.”

“You…what?” You didn’t even know where to start. “How does that explain the paper sticking to me?”

“We think we absorbed his powers.” Venom said. “We used to watch videos of him on YouTube after you went to bed. He can stick to walls and stuff. We think that’s why the paper ball stuck to you.”

“Since when can we absorb powers?” You wondered as you looked at your hands.

“We never had a host before. We don’t really know how it works.” Venom reminded you. “But back on Klyntar, our home planet, the Grandmaster used to tell us we could absorb the powers of superhuman beings. Judging by your newfound stickiness, we think it worked.”

“What else can Spider-Man do?” You asked. “Since you’re such a big fan.”

“He can shoot webs out of his wrists. And he can return lost dogs.” Venom answered, sounding a little annoyed.

“Do you have something against Spider-Man?” You chuckled a little at her tone.

“We hate what he did last night. He thought we were the bad guy, and he let the real bad guy get away. He judged us before he had the full story. We’re not a bad guy.” Venom defended. You were surprised to hear how passionate she was about this and gave her a soft smile.

“Let’s not worry about Spider-Man right now. I want to test out our new abilities. Let’s rock and roll, baby.” You cheered, complete with rock and roll hands. The second you touched your middle finger and ring finger to your palm, a black, web-like tendril shot out from your wrist and stuck to the ceiling. You stared at the web with a gaping mouth, weakly shaking your wrist to see if it would stay attached.

It did.

“Maybe that’s one of our new abilities.” Venom said. You looked back and forth between her and the gooey web coming out of your wrist.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” You screamed. You took your fingers off your palm and the web retracted back into your wrist. Looking at your wrist incredulously, you made the rock and roll hand again and the same web shot out from your wrist. This time, it grabbed the ceiling fan.

“V-Venom?” You asked. You didn’t know what to say.

“Try to aim it at something.” She suggested. You aimed your wrist and the lamp across the room and touched your fingers to your palm. The black web shot across the room and grabbed onto the lamp. You quickly yanked your arm back to pull the lamp towards yourself. The lamp flew across the room, smashed you in the face, and left you with a bloody nose.

“Ow.” You cried, gingerly touching your nose.

“We see this as a absolutely win.” Venom cheered. You shot her a look and went to get cleaned up.

After about a week of practice, and very little work on your questions for Cletus, you had a better handle on your webbing ability. Of course, the week also consisted of long talks with Peter on the roof, late patrols of New York, the occasional run in with a criminal, late night FaceTime calls with Peter, and beating the shit out of Spider-Man, twice. Venom eventually grew bored of using the new powers around the house, so it was time for the final test.

You stood at the rooftop ledge and looked down, talking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“It’s a long way down.” You commented.

“Yep.” Venom replied in your head.

“We could die.” You added.

“Yep.”

“Ready?”

“We’re ready.” Venom grinned as you transformed. You stepped off the ledge and fell freely for a while, screaming the whole way down.

“Stop being a little bitch! Shoot a web!” Venom yelled. You aimed a web at a building and began to swing. You were too close to the ground and ended up knocking over a bunch of tables at an outdoor restaurant. People ran away in fear while others took out their cameras and recorded.

“We’re not here to hurt you! Peace and love!” Venom shouted as you continued to swing through the steers of New York. People began to cheer upon hearing your words.

“Do you hear that, Y/N? People are cheering. They love us.” Venom said happily.

“I love us too.” You replied. You were even happier than she was. You knew how much it hurt Venom to be seen as a monster, it was why she hated being called a parasite. You also knew it was why she hated Spider-Man. He was praised for stopping bad guys while Venom was seen as one of the bad guys he needed to stop.

“Hey, what is that thing?” A man called from the street. Venom stopped swinging and landed on the street. You proudly turned to the crowd of people, a massive grin on your face. There it was, our favorite question.

“We…are Venom.” Venom growled. People took pictures and videos of you from a distance.

“You can come closer. We won’t hurt you.” Venom assured the crowd.

“Are you like the anti Spider-Man?” Someone asked.

“Spider-Man is a joke. He can’t protect this city like we can. We are no Spider-Man. We are Venom.” Venom roared. A few people took a step back and you began to feel uneasy.

“Hey, King Kong. I want a word with you.” A sassy voice quipped from the crowd. A man in yellow sunglasses and a suit stepped forward, and you bet your ass you recognized him.

“My name is Tony Stark. Heard of me? Of course you have. Would you mind coming back to my tower with me?” He asked, but it felt more like a demand. The people in the crowd slowly dispersed and soon, you stood there alone with Tony.

“Be nice. Say yes.” You told Venom.

“Who is this guy?” She asked out loud.

“I just said my name.” Tony said, slightly annoyed.

“He’s a really famous inventor. I’ll explain later. Just follow him please.” You begged. Venom gave Tony a once over and followed him to a limo.

“Yea, you’re gonna ride up top big guy.” Tony said, patting the roof of the car.

“Girl.” Venom growled. Tony looked surprised.

“My apologies ma’am.” He raised surprised eyebrows. You rode on top of his car all the way to his tower, wondering what he could possibly want with you.

The inside of his tower was huge. Tony lead you to a lab that was bigger than yours and Peters apartments combined.

“I’ve seen videos of you on YouTube. Seems like you and Spider-Man aren’t the best of friends.” Tony remarked as he pulled out an iPad.

“We will crush his bones and snort them like cocaine.” Venom growled. Tony was just as surprised to hear that as you were.

“Now that’s a visual.” Tony smirked. “I’ll have you know, Spider-Man is a friend of mine. He’s not your biggest fan either but from what I’ve seen, you’ve done this city some good since you’ve been here. How long has that been?”

“Two weeks.” Venom answered.

“I thought so. I’d never seen you before then. And since your arrival, petty crime has dropped significantly in Queens. Criminals are too scared of getting eaten to do anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spider-Man and I’ll kill you if you tell him that, but no one fears him. He gets the job done, but there’s always another job to do. With you, on the other hand, your mere presence is preventing crime before it even happens.” Tony smiled to himself, like he was just given a new toy. “You’re scary, is what I’m trying to say. But you’re a good guy. It’s rare. I want it to stay that way. I want you on my team.”

“Team?”

“We’re called the Avengers. We had a bit of a falling out but the name still stands.” Tony waved his hand. “We fight bad guys together. Really, really bad guys. I think you could us some good. Plus, you’ll be taken care of for life and we’ll only call you in for serious threats. But I need a few things from you first.”

“Like what?”

“Your story.” He pointed a finger at you. “How does a giant, anthropomorphic alien wind up in New York City?”

“It’s a long story.” Venom answered.

“We can trust this man, Venom.” You told her telepathically. “I’m gonna come out okay?” Venom hesitated and Tony looked impatient to know more.

“Are you sure?” She asked you. Tony looked confused.

“Am I sure?” He pointed to himself.

“Not you.” She said. Tony looked around for who else Venom could be talking to and found no one.

“I’m sure.” You decided. “This guy is one of the good guys. We can trust him. I promise. I’m coming out.”

You slowly transformed back into yourself in front of Tonys wide eyes. Venom stayed in her snake-like form and rested on your neck.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Y/N L/N.” You shyly introduced yourself. “This is Venom. We want to help.”

Tony’s face shifted from shocked to impressed as he looked you over.

“I gotta say, I did not except someone like you to be inside that scary monster.” Tony chuckled.

“We’re not a monster, Mr. Stark. We want to help people.” You reminded him.

“I can see that.” Tony nodded. “That’s why I’ve been developing you a suit.”

“When did you do that?” You wondered. “We just met.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been designing it while you talked. I want you to have it incase you and Venom get separated. That way, you’ll be protected until you’re back together.” Tony explained as he showed you his ipad. Sure enough, it had a drawing of a suit on it.

“I’ll get started right away. I just need a little piece of Venom. If I make the suit using her skin, you’ll have the total protection you need.” You looked at Venom for consent, who nodded and extended a tendril towards Tony. He quickly snipped a piece off and put it in a container.

“When will the suit be ready? A few months?” You asked as Tony tapped the container. Tony stopped looking at the container and laughed.

“Y/N, I’m a genius inventor. Go get lunch. It’ll be ready when you’re done.” He said.

And he wasn’t kidding. An hour and a half later, Tony presented you with a suit. You ran my fingers over it slowly, not wanted to disturb a single thing. You looked at it in awe, completely speechless at what he had created.

“Go on, try it on.” He shrugged casually. You grinned from ear to ear before rushing to the bathroom to put it on. You came out soon enough with tears in you eyes.

“You like it?” Tony asked. You looked at your covered hands in amazement. The suit was jet black, like Venom was, and hugged your body like a second skin. There was a big white spider symbol on the front, the complete opposite of Spider-Mans small black one. You figured it was a nod to being called the anti Spider-Man and it was perfect.

“Well?” Tony was still waiting for an answer. You looked up at him just as a few tears fell down you cheeks.

“We didn’t celebrate my birthday growing up because it was the anniversary of my moms death. I used to be so upset every year.” You blurted. Tony looked like he didn’t know what to say and you couldn’t blame him. That was something deeply personal and you had only just met him.

“What I’m trying to say is, I get it now.” You explained. “All those missed birthdays were for a reason. I didn’t get gifts those days because I’m getting the ultimate gift right now. This is the most amazing thing I could’ve asked for. I cannot thank you enough Mr. Stark. I’ll never take it off.”

“You can’t take it off anyway.” Tony told you. “When you don’t want to wear it, it absorbs back into your skin like Venom does. And it’s equipped with Venoms essential abilities. It’s bullet proof, knife proof, taser proof, spork proof and so on. And you can still shoot your webby things. You just won’t have super strength, super speed, or that Venus flytrap mouth of yours.”

You tested it out and shot a web towards his desk. You grabbed a pen and caught it with ease, then looked at Tony for approval.

“That’s the best I could do. It’s no Iron Man suit but it’ll suffice.” Tony said casually. You couldn’t take it anymore and rushed towards him to hug him tightly.

“Thank you.” You said into his chest. Tony patted your back awkwardly and you let go.

“It’s nothing. You can thank me by not eating Spider-Man. I know he’s annoying but he doesn’t mean any harm. Now go forth and do good.” Tony requested.

You swung back to the apartment and landed on the roof. You turned back into yourself and made your way down the steps to your floor. After this mornings conversation with Peter and the incredible suit from Mr. Stark, you were having a great day. For the first time in years, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

title: picture me pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again. word count: 18.3k warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok! a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.

i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪

(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)

The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence

—

He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.

He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.

You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.

He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.

You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.

When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.

What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.

The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.

Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.

The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.

He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.

You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.

—

At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.

He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.

There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.

When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.

The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.

It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.

These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.

Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?

One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.

“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.

“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.

When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.

You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”

“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.

Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”

You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”

She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”

You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.

You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.

Oh. The mirror.

She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”

You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.

Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.

“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”

“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.

When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.

For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.

You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.

When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?

You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.

“Did you come back for this?”

You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.

“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.

He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”

“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.

He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.

“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”

“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.

“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”

The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”

“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.

“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?

“Um, just different things here and there.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.

“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.

“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”

You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”

“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.

You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.

And you still didn’t get his name.

You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.

When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.

You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.

When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”

He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”

Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.

“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”

“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”

You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.

“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.

“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”

“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”

“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”

Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”

“Yes!”

Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.

You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”

“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”

“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.

Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”

“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”

Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”

“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”

You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”

He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”

You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”

“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”

You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”

Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”

Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.

You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.

Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.

He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.

When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.

“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”

It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.

After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.

Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.

As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.

He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”

“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”

“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”

Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”

“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”

“Turned, huh…”

Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.

You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.

You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”

“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”

“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”

“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.

Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.

You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”

“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”

“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.

“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”

“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.

“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”

“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.

You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”

You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.

“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.

You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.

Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. “Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”

You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.

The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.

As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.

Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”

You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.

It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.

The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.

“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”

Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”

He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.”

You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”

Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”

You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.

Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.

Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.

Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.

Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.

“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.

“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.

—

You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.

“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”

“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”

Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”

“Two places?”

“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”

“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”

“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”

“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”

Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.

“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”

Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.

He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”

On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around. 

When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.

Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.

“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”

“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.

“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.

“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”

Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight. 

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny���s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

[stxleslyds]

Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.  

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

 Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better. 

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.” 

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to “kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

[averykedavra]

12. “I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.” intwuwogical 👀 🥺

(Hi, sorry for the delay! Thanks to @subtlereferencetomyinterests for the pun!)

Words: 2951

Logan didn’t expect any visitors.

It was always easy to slip through the cracks after an argument. Everyone was always preoccupied--with grudges, with apologies, with their own accelerated heartrates. It often took days for the situation to resolve itself, and it always went quicker when Logan was there to help.

Maybe Logan should help. But instead, he was in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

He’d taken off his tie--he couldn’t stand the feeling of it around his neck--and loosened his collar. The room was a mess of half-finished papers and crumbling corkboards. His hair was unwashed and his glasses were covered in crud.

Logan didn’t want any visitors. But when something banged loudly on the door, he took a second to answer, and the door burst open.

"Hey-hey, Isaac Ass-imov!” Remus grinned at him. He was brandishing a staff, probably the source of the banging. It seemed to be built of several bones, topped with teeth. Fascinating. Had Remus created it himself? “It’s time for dinner.”

What? Logan could have sworn it was only morning.

“Pop-Tart says you gotta come on down!” Remus shimmied his hips. “So get your booty out of bed and eat out with us!”

Logan decided against parsing every innuendo from Remus’ sentence. “And he sent you?”

“Yeah!” Remus slapped his staff cheerily. “I’m persuasive.”

Logan had no doubt of that. He rubbed his arm. He didn’t feel hungry--quite the contrary, his stomach felt rather like the ancient monster Charybdis, as if it would spit out whatever it ingested. However, he knew Patton would be upset at a refusal. More pressingly, Remus would be upset. Logan did not want to find out what Remus did when turned down.

“Who else will be there?” Logan decided to ask.

“Everyone Paternity Test and I can drag out of their rooms!” Remus’ smile, and staff, fell a bit. “Not Ro-Bro, though. Or the emo, if Jay is gonna be there.”

“Jay--” It took a second for Logan to comprehend. “Oh. Janus.”

Remus looked between Logan and the door, then closed the door.

“He--he feels really bad about what happened,” Remus finally said. “They all do. It was a whole big garbage-pile mess, I couldn’t have done it better.”

“You would have improved the situation,” Logan said with a chuckle. “You could have knocked us all out, thus forestalling any crises of morality.”

“That’s what I said!” Remus flopped bonelessly to the ground. His head lolled on the foot of Logan’s bed, his feet pushed at the carpet and the papers drifting by, and he began to fidget with the teeth on his staff. They clinked when he moved them. “Anyway, are you coming to dinner?”

“It doesn’t seem as though either of us are going anywhere,” Logan pointed out, “as you’ve just made yourself comfortable on my rug.”

“Oh.” Remus looked down. “Do you--mind?”

“No,” Logan said, surprising himself. “I don’t, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

“I don’t need to,” Remus said, waving a hand at the papers marooned on the floor. “But yeah, we are going somewhere, ‘cause our Patreon tier gives us free meals now. Nice of him.”

“You’re allowed?” Logan asked.

“Yeah! If I don’t ‘make a nuisance of myself.’” Remus leaned forward confidentially. “Think Patton just wants to have one creative Side around, to make himself feel better.”

Logan traced the edges of the ceiling with his eyes. “He seems to be warming to you.”

“Yeah!” Remus beamed. “Well, Janny likes me, and they’re two peas in a Juul pod now, so he lets me do stuff! Like banging on doors!”

Remus banged on the floor with his staff. The teeth shook.

“Where did you get that?” Logan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it made of human bones?”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “Yeah! Femur here, and then some wrist bones here, and a rib, and then a bundle of molars!”

“Where did you get them?”

“Imagination.” Remus’ voice slid into a rambling tone, as if he was gearing up for a long monologue. Logan found it rather endearing. “My side of the imagination is filled with bones. So I made this one last year! It’s a bonk stick.”

“A--” Logan blinked. “A what?”

“It bonks!” Remus raised the stick and twisted around to Logan. Logan barely had time to move before the staff came down on his head. A light tap. “Bonk!”

“Bonk,” Logan repeated, watching the staff. “What does it do?”

“It bonks people into doing stuff!” Remus pulled the staff away from Logan. “I bonk on doors and I bonk on faces and I bonk on walls! Gets people’s attention. When people are stuck in bed and being gloomy, I bonk them into doing stuff! I--used to do that for Jay, sometimes. I’m the one who gets everyone out of bed.” Remus laughed. “Perks of being a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” Logan said, out of habit. He’d said similar things to Virgil many times.  

“If you think that, I’m not trying hard enough.” Remus flipped, knees over his head, and landed on his back on the carpet. His feet kicked up on the bed and l left smears on the quilt. His hair pooled in snarls around his face. “It’s my job, right? I’m the one who bangs pans in your brain until you do something.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“But yeah, I know, I’m not usually the ‘helpful’ one.” Remus sighed, though it sounded more like a blown raspberry. “Jay winds me up and points me fun-wards, though! And now I’ve been tugged all the way over to you!”

“Wonderful,” Logan said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Remus tugged at his mustache. “So, you coming to dinner or not?”

Logan let out a breath.

“Come on,” Remus said after a moment of silence. “You can’t just sulk in bed forever. Get moving! Go-go-go! You’ve got no excuse to stay in bed.”

Something angry twisted in Logan’s chest. “Maybe I do,” he snapped.

“Oh!” Remus blinked up at him. “What is it?”

“Um.” Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m working right now.”

“You’re lying in bed.”

“I’m brainstorming,” Logan lied. “I often do my best work in silence.”

Remus scoffed. “No one works well in silence.”

“I do!”

“Your room says otherwise.” Remus gestured with his staff at the piles of paper and the dusty desk. “You haven’t been working, Specs and the City, don’t try to bluff.”

Logan bit back a pout. “Then--I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not sleep-time,” Remus said. “You can sleep later! Aren’t you all about those cicada rhythms?”

“It’s circadian rhythms,” Logan said. “And you remember that? You weren’t even there!”

“I’m always there,” Remus said. His grin would have been threatening, if he wasn’t sprawled on the rug with curls flopping over his forehead. “I hear everything. Whether you see me or--” He covered his face and splayed his hands. “You don’t!”

“Interesting,” Logan said. “So...you were there during the argument? About the wedding?”

Remus cringed. “Yeah.”

“Oh." Logan felt a bit embarrassed, which was ridiculous, because Remus was the last person who would judge him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Eh, not my jam.” Remus tossed his staff in the air and caught it. The teeth jingled. “Yadda yadda morality bogus, no fun. I don’t mind callbacks, and I don’t mind weddings if they end in orgies, so I really didn’t care. I’m not really about reflecting. You do what you do, no use getting your panties twisted after it’s over.”

“Huh,” Logan said. “So...that’s how you feel about it?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about it?” Logan asked. He didn’t know why--maybe to deflect Remus’ own questioning, maybe because he was curious, curious to see this unknown variable in action. “How do you feel? Has anyone asked you?”

“I--” Remus looked at him open-mouthed for a moment. Then his mouth slammed shut like a nutcracker’s. “I don’t care about it. Like I said. And--no, nobody has. I’m just the voice in the back of your mind, nothing to worry about.”

Remus was in the back of the mind. What did it mean, then, that he was here? Was this the back--was this the shadows? Was this where voices went when nobody listened to them?

“But you’re getting me off-track!” With a nod, Remus was back to full energy. “No getting off-track. No pileups today. I need to hear why you can’t go to dinner.”

“I don’t want to,” Logan said.

Simple. Sickeningly, achingly simple. The scabs stung around his neck.

Remus actually seemed to be considering it. “Why not?”

“I want to stay in bed,” Logan said. Simple. Truthful. No lies to summon anyone, anything. To just keep the two of them there.

Logan stared at the ceiling instead of Remus. Don’t check to see if he’s gone. That wasn’t how you dealt with intrusive thoughts--they always came back. And he wanted Remus gone.

Didn’t he?

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. “But should you?”

“I’m done worrying about shoulds.”

“Do the others want you to?”

“I’ve spent too much time thinking about them already.”

“Is it good for you?”

Logan huffed. “You tell me. Morality is hardly my area of expertise.”

“Mine either,” Remus said, “but I’m good at being where I’m not wanted. And doing what I gotta do.”

Logan continued to look at the ceiling. Maybe Remus would leave. Maybe he wouldn’t. Schrodinger’s cat, he thought idly--dead or alive, an enigma, an unknown. Anything was possible until you checked to make sure.

“How do you feel?”

“What?” Logan jerked his head over to Remus. “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about everything that happened?” Remus shrugged. “You just look kinda icky. And you asked me. Fair’s fair.”

“You don’t believe in fair,” Logan said.

“You do.”

Did he? If he allowed himself the possibility, something red-hot choked his chest. Fair meant everyone was listened to. Fair meant everyone’s input was valued. Fair meant he wasn’t pulled away before he got a chance to fix things--

He’d already failed, though. Wasn’t it fair that he didn’t deserve a seat at the table?

“I don’t believe in fairness,” Logan said. “And I don’t feel anything.”

Remus snickered. “Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“Look, I won’t tell anyone.” Remus winked at him and tapped his nose. “I already know, anyway. I know all your dirty little secrets.”

Logan blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, Jay might hide the secrets, but he needs somewhere to put them.” Remus spread his arms. Sprawled on the carpet, his arms outstretched, he looked like he was being pinned to a cross. “I’m where all the secrets go! All the dirty things you’d never say out loud, I hear them. I’m like your footprints! Or oil sludge--or radiation!”

Logan touched his collar. “Fascinating.”

“I think so too!” Remus bonked the staff on the floor. “Point is, my pointy Poin-dexter, is that I’m not gonna judge. You probably don’t even measure up to the freaky shit I’ve heard some of them think. Glass houses. Say whatever you want, I don’t care, brains are weird and gross sometimes.”

Logan didn’t have a brain, technically. Or he was the brain. Either way, he wasn’t supposed to be weird or gross. Or--fallible. Yet here he was, sprawled on his bed and immovable, a pile of feelings he could barely understand.

“I feel...sick,” Logan said.

Remus was quiet. Maybe he wasn’t there--Logan could monologue to himself, and no one would be the wiser, and Remus wouldn’t be there until Logan looked for him. Remus wasn’t helpful unless someone looked.

“I feel sick,” Logan repeated. “So--anxious, and sick, and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

He could feel his pulse, pounding in his neck. Why did he need it? How was this fair? How was it fair to give him a heart to race, breath to steal, a voice to silence? Why did he have to be this?

Things he should be. Things others wanted. Things that were good.

Things he wanted.

Always tangled, always at odds, always disastrously intertwined.

“I tried to help,” Logan pleaded with no one. “I tried to help--I knew it wasn’t my place to interfere, I couldn’t help with their personal issues, but I could still--give information. Help. I needed to help, I’m--I’m the one who helps. And I failed, and it hurt--and he dragged me off and I couldn’t breathe--”

Breathe. His windpipe was closing. Logan closed his eyes and breathed in and out. Four, seven, eight. He’d taught Virgil that rhythm. Why could he fix everyone else’s problems, but not his own?

“I tried to help,” Logan said, weakly. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No,” Remus agreed. “It wasn’t.”

Logan rubbed at the scabs around his neck. Remus’ throwing stars hadn’t hurt him, so everyone assumed he couldn’t feel pain--that he was unflappable, powerful, untouchable Logic. But it was only because Remus didn’t try to hurt him. Everyone could hurt Logan if they tried. Or if they didn’t bother to stop it from happening.

“I feel sick,” Logan said, quietly, like the crook was still around his neck. “And that’s why I’m not going. That’s my excuse.”

Silence. Logan didn’t want to check if Remus had left. He wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Chicken noodle soup,” Remus said.

“What?”

“That’s what people eat when they’re sick,” Remus continued, springing to his feet. “And, like, toast. And mushed bananas.”

“The b-r-a-t diet,” Logan agreed, still confused. “Bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast.”

“Okay!” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m more practiced at the make people sick side of things, but this is cool too.”

“What?” Logan asked, hoping that for once, Remus would explain. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, you’re sick?” Remus asked. “So I’m helping?”

“I’m not that kind of sick,” Logan started to say, but he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He did feel flushed. And his stomach churned menacingly. “Why?”

“There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!” Remus bonked him on the leg. “You gotta eat something, so I’ll grab stuff for you.”

“But you’re eating with Patton.”

Another bonk on the leg. “I can do it another night! Plus, it’s no fun if I can’t be a nuisance.”

Logan smiled a bit, despite himself. “You can’t be a nuisance here, either.”

“Aww!” Remus pouted, sticking out his lip. “Pwease?”

“I’m not hungry,” Logan said, instead of confronting the fact that Remus’ puppy eyes were working. “Thank you, though.”

“Still gonna get you some food, I think it’s kinda necessary for survival.” Remus looked him over. “Yeah, I’ll grab you a plate, so you can eat in here!”

“You’re...” Logan still didn’t fully understand this. “Letting me stay in bed?”

“You said it yourself, you wanna be here.” Remus shrugged. “Sometimes the bonk stick doesn’t work! And sometimes you just gotta work with what you got. So you stay in bed, and I get you stuff you need, and you take a nap!”

“A nap,” Logan repeated.

“You said you were tired!”

“You said it wasn’t time to sleep yet!”

“Sick rules are different!” Remus crossed his arms. “Look, it’s me, or I sic Pat and Jay on you. And they’re gonna baby you something fierce.”

Logan knew that was true enough. “And you're...okay with this? I don’t wish to interrupt any schedules you may have--”

“I’m Intrusive Thoughts, I don’t have schedules.” Remus shimmied. “I do-do-do what I wanna do-do-do! And what I wanna do is help you out here.”

“Help me,” Logan repeated.

“I can be helpful!” Remus protested. “I have a stick!”

The staff jingled in his hand. He looked utterly convinced. And Logan knew it well enough--there was no way to force the Duke to retire a subject of conversation. Or to get rid of him. Or to stop him from trying something out.

And oddly, Logan found he didn’t mind a bit.

“Okay,” he said. “If you’d like to, you can help.”

Remus’ grin stretched almost the full way around his cheeks. “Oh! Really? Oh, this is so cool, usually I only help Jay--I’ll get you some food! Toast and brats and whatever you were saying. And like a temperature thing, stuff to help you out. You should get into some PJs while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Logan said, after a few seconds. It was often hard to tell when Remus was finished talking. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Yes!” Remus whooped and tossed open Logan’s door. “Be right back, nerd, and I’d better see some pajamas! Or your birthday suit, if that’s what you’re into!”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Logan stared after him for a second. He wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had progressed as it did. He definitely wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Or something he should be doing. Or what the others would want.

It was what he wanted, though. Didn’t he get that? Wasn’t that fair?

Two Sides at the back of the mind, two sides of the same coin, leaving each other’s footsteps behind.

Logan touched his collar.

He only wore his onesie when he didn’t expect visitors. But he changed into it now, curling up on the bed, waiting for Remus to come back. For some reason, despite Remus’ unpredictability, he was sure that Remus would. Intrusive Thoughts never truly went away. Like a grease stain, or a mole in a game of Whack-a-Mole. Or radiation.

Logan smiled to himself. Remus was already rubbing off on him.

And for the first time in several days, his heart rate steadied, and Logan could breathe again.

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

[dreamcatcherrs]

a high school prom au where the reader and Dream are like childhood best friends and the readers date shows up with someone else then when the reader feels all lonely, Dream is like “what if we danced🥺” ??? anyways love you and your fanfics you’re like my favorite writer on tumblr💖💘

+ this is such a cute concept! I’ve never written anything like this, but I hope it was what you wanted<3

++ also this is such an old request, I’m so sorry

prom night - dream

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: high school au! dream x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after being abandoned by your prom date, the person you expected the least to spend the night with asks you for a dance.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.501

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, fluff, swearing, slight mention of alcohol use.

song recommendation: love on the brain - rihanna

you couldn’t believe your eyes.

there your date stood, arm wrapped around a person that you for sure knew wasn't you. the excitement disappeared from every corner and edge of your body, hands falling to your sides in complete disappointment.

proudly, your so-called date stepped forward in line with a smile on their face, waiting to be the next for the photo shoot the had been set up. your smile was gone. and so was your passion for continuing this prom.

looking down, you turned on your heels, walking away from the great asshole of a date, and finding an empty seat by one of the available tables.

you’d wondered why it took so long for your date to arrive - you should’ve known, really. but no - now you were just left sitting alone by an empty table. what was the point of even being there anymore when all you could feel was loneliness?

everyone else was having fun, partying and smiling about the night ahead of them - just like you should’ve been. but now, you were just left with feeling disappointed in yourself. how could you make yourself believe that someone actually wanted to bring a date like you to the prom? what were you thinking?

you sighed deeply as you rested your head in the palm of your hand, other hand busy with tracing the cutouts on the table.

“just go over there, man!”

“yeah, they’re just sitting there all alone… this is your perfect chance!”

clay scratched the back of his head, staring down at the drink in his hand.

“I don't know… what if they say no?”

george and nick both rolled their eyes. the only one who really believed that was gonna happen would be clay. it was crystal clear to literally everyone else that the two of you had developed feelings for each other over the many years of knowing one another. clay would always brush it off with a “we’re just friends”, but really, he knew they were right.

he’d known you since he was 8 and you 7 - having been best friends since that day and until last year. you'd kinda… broken off since then. as you grew older, more important things had distracted you from keeping the connection, and eventually, you just slipped away.

he knew he liked you as more than a friend. but he was certain you didn't.

after all, you wanted to go with a complete dickhead, who ditched you anyway. and now look where you were.

“hey guys~ why are you wasting the night just standing here? let’s party!” karl slurred as he came crashing into george and nick, swinging both arms around their shoulder from behind.

as george was busy pushing karls’ arm off of him, and nick pulling him closer, clay’s eyes were only focused on you. you looked so… sad. no one should be sad on their prom night, and frankly, maybe his friends were right.

before he knew it, his feet dragged him across the dance floor, towards your place on the chair. george’s eyes widened, a big smile spreading across his face, showing off his braces.

“would you two stop flirting with each other and watch what is happening right now?”

nick and karl giggled.

“why, are you jealous gogy?” nick teased, causing a light shade of pink to brush across george’s cheeks.

“shut up-”

“hey.”

the second you broke away from your melancholy stare at the table, your heart started racing and a wave of sweat danced across your skin. he hadn't talked to you since… you couldn’t even remember the last time.

lifting your head off your hand, you sat up straight, watching as clay scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“hi,” you responded, voice quiet and unsure.

why was he talking to you all of a sudden? after all these months with absolutely no contact with each other, now he wants to talk to you? on the other hand, it’s not like you'd been very communicative with him either…

clay hesitated slightly, shifting on his feet. “why are you sitting here all alone? I thought you had a date?”

you sighed, corner of your lips turning down slightly. “yeah… they ditched me.” you looked away from him, feeling somewhat embarrassed that you'd let yourself get into a situation like that.

clay felt bad. how could someone let go so easily of someone as perfect as you? on the other hand, this meant that no one else could have you - and that made him kind of relieved.

he hesitated a little before speaking up again; “what a dickhead.”

that made you laugh a little. “yeah.”

silence approached after that, and a tension started building up. the both of you could feel the unspoken words you'd been keeping from each other rise up - yet you remained quiet.

after all, there wasn’t really anyone you could blame your fading friendship on - apart from yourselves.

clay cleared his throat, as a new, slower song came on, hand reaching out in front of him, hovering right before you. your eyes trailed along his tux-clad arm and up to his eyes, noticing the withheld love in them.

“do you wanna dance with me?”

you blinked at him, thankful that the fluorescent lights made it hard for him to see the blush on your cheeks. your heart felt as if it was pounding out of your chest.

“I-,” you stuttered, recollecting yourself quickly before placing your hand into his, fitting perfectly right into his palm. you smiled up at him softly. “I’d love to.” he smiled back to you, gripping onto your hand and lead you through the large crowd of people onto the dance floor.

he turned to you, taking in how absolutely breathtaking you looked right then. it was hard for him not to blurt out compliments at you at any given chance.

his hands found their place on your waist, and you let your hand snake around his neck, resting right where his haircut ended. it tickled him in a way that made him realise just how much he had missed your touch - hell, even talking to you reminded him of how lonely he’d felt without you.

slowly, the two of you swayed from side to side along to the song, just staring into each others eyes. clay sneaked a glance down at your lips, quickly averting his eyes again once you parted them.

“I’m really sorry we haven’t talked for so long,” you spoke, twirling a finger around one of his locks. “I miss it a lot. I missed you, clay.”

you stared at him with a look of guilt, biting down on your bottom lips once you'd finished your sentence. you looked down again, feeling sorry that you hadn't reached out to him before.

clay moved a hand to your cheek, tilting your head upwards so you'd look at him again. your eyes widened at the touch of his fingers, and you melted into his hand once his thumb bushed across the soft skin of your cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. don't be sorry about that - I could’ve reached out too, y’know? we’re both guilty on that note. but, now that I can finally talk to you again, I don't wanna worry about the past, okay? I just want you to have a good night.”

you smiled softly at his words, feeling a wave of forgiveness wash over you. it felt good to know that you had your friend back again.

“I don't think my night can be ruined at this point,” you smiled, moving your hands from his nape to his shoulders instead.

“well, can I still make it a little bit better?” you raised an eyebrow at him, cocking your head to the side slightly.

his eyes fell down to look at your lips again, this time not being able to hold back from the temptation.

your lips attached to his.

and everything around you just stopped.

your eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the kiss once you realised what was happening, only making him pull you closer to him. his lips moved so gently, slowly against yours, a withheld desire finally being released.

who cared about the things that’d gotten in the way of your friendship? all that mattered right now was this very moment - that’s all that ever mattered.

“yes clay!”

“finally he fucking did it.”

the yelling coming from karl and nick from a distance away made the two of you break away from each other, turning your heads to the direction of them. george elbowed nick in the stomach to stop him from jumping into the air, revealing their spying spot.

you chuckled lightly at them, slowly turning your head back to clay with a lick of your lips. clay sent them a nice “fuck off” with his middle fingers, before also returning to the current situation and smiling at you widely.

“better now?”

you smiled wider at that. if only he knew.

______________________________________

tag list✰

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[stickynotestoletters]

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

[calpalirwin]

Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers. 

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

__

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[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Chlodineweek Day 3: Reunion

It was good that Windows XP somehow didn’t notice that she had already failed at entering the correct password five times. 

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared back down at the keys, and began to peck at them one at a time like they were the platforms she’d jumped across in the axe fortress.

Tommyiscute2003.

Wrong.

TommyIhateyou03.

Wrong.

“How important is this?” Nadine called from Chloe’s childhood bed. She was flipping through an ancient Shonen Jump.

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Why can’t you access it on your phone?”

Chloe touched her lips. “I think I wrote it...in my diary.”

“Frazer, let’s look at the Neopets on your phone and be done with it. You know they’re all dead anyway.”

Her casual tone made Chloe bristle all over again. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. It had to have been something about Nathan Drake. Their entire trip back home to Chloe’s mum’s house in Australia’s capital had been peppered with back-and-forth character assassination focused on which of them had neglected and starved her Neopets more.

“You’re going to be dead before my Neopets are,” Chloe retorted, pushing back her hair, and noticing Nadine had slid off the twin bed and was rooting around in the drawers. “Excuse me, I didn’t give you permission to--”

“Find this?” Nadine tossed a book at her.

Chloe recognized it the moment it hit her hands. A pink-and-blue diary with a cute lock on the cover.

“I’m assuming you still have the key, Frazer?”

“Oh give me all of three seconds,” Chloe said with a chuckle, sitting and pulling the lockpick from her hair. “These are never--” click. “Here we go. Ah, it’ll be on the last page...I think.”

Nadine had rested her arm across the chair and around Chloe’s shoulders. “What’s that drawing?”

“That is me.”

Nadine’s laughter was scoffing. “And--and the hair?”

“That’s what I looked like,” Chloe paged away from the emo self portrait. “Makeup and all.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed.”

“Very funny.”

Nadine leaned forward. “Who’s this Tommy you mention on every page?”

“You can actually read that? I’m impressed. I definitely have better handwriting now--”

“Chloe?’

Somehow, they hadn’t noticed footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway, but the click of the door made them both jump.

Chloe’s mother walked in, holding some mail, and blinked. Why would they have a guilty conscience now? Why did it feel like they’d been interrupted in something important and bad?

They were only two grown adults trying to break into an ancient computer because Neopets wasn’t mobile-optimized, after all. Chloe wanted to hiss to Nadine that her job was the lookout, but Nadine looked more terrified than Chloe had ever seen her; she had just about hopped back from the chair.

“Something came for you,” Leah Frazer said.

“I...see that,” Chloe said, hand going to her hair. “You can leave it, mummy.”

“Think it’s from your school.”

“From...which school?”

Leah shrugged her shoulders. “The uni you never went to? It’s from Tim M. Pierce High.”

And she wonders why I never visit. Chloe stood, pushing her hand through her loose, damp hair one last time, reaching out for the envelope with the familiar emblem in the corner.

She’d worn it on her silly skirt-and-polo uniform all those years ago, fighting its conformity with home-dyed streaks in her sharply cut hair and her eyeliner even more intense than she wore now. She might have switched it up with novelty contact lenses sometimes too--she wasn’t proud of that--but she could stop a black-pentagon-bedecked ball with one black-nailed hand and aced all her history tests.

Yes, Chloe remembered Tim M. Pierce, and she also remembered opting out of another few years of being treated like she was weird and dumb.

“Are they...asking for donations? Or something?”

“I think it’s an invitation,” Chloe’s mother said. “Might be having the reunion soon.”

“The reunion,” Chloe said, as if the word was foreign to her.

“Nice timing, isn’t it? You being back for the first time in forever. You could go.”

Chloe breathed out sharply through her nose as her mother closed the door and her footsteps paced back down the hall.

Nadine leapt in front of her. “Let’s go to a hotel, ja?”

“Are you scared of her, love? She’s not going to kill us.”

Nadine shook her head so emphatically Chloe actually had to look up from turning the envelope around in her hand. “She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me here.”

It took a long, embarrassing moment for Chloe to even pick up on what she meant.

“Oh. No, no,” Chloe laughed, waving her hand and turning back. “No, she’s mad at me, honey. Because I haven’t been in awhile and--”

“Frazer--”

“Nadine this is my mother. She doesn’t even know--no. She had--you’ve misjudged her.”

Nadine said, flatly, “I’ll find one myself.”

“Nadine, she’s not like that. She’s just snappy. I--I get it from her,” Chloe said, sitting back down. “Where were we? Oh yes, let’s find the password.”

“You didn’t even call ahead to tell her we were coming?”

Chloe felt the nerves in Nadine’s voice, but she also felt sick that her mother had inadvertently upset her. “I’ll talk to her, Nadine. I’ll tell her to--”

“No, no, no!” Nadine was really losing it, wasn’t she, wandering around the emo-band-poster-walled fortress with her face in her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I told you to--that she--”

“Was making my partner uncomfortable?”

“Ja, that’s what you don’t tell her. Do not tell her that.”

“Oh relax,” Chloe said. “Between you and Nate, she’d throw him out of the house first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she judges character. Well. About that. You wanted to know about Tommy?” Chloe held out the open journal, showing a double-page spread of a crude drawing of a boy and her very impractically dressed self, holding hands. “He was my widdle baby crush. Mum didn’t like him.”

“Was he the psychopath type you always go for?”

Chloe laughed. “He was a good student. Squeaky-clean. She still hated the sight of him.”

“Ja, your drawing doesn’t really sell him either.”

Chloe returned fire by throwing the entire journal back at Nadine, who snatched it out of the air and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glancing back at the door. Chloe turned back to the keyboard and typed the password that had been scrawled beneath the drawing:

ChloeAndTom4ever.

“Open sesame,” she said, as the startup noise pinged and the cursor did its loading animation.

“You think he’ll be at the reunion?” Nadine said.

“Oh, who goes to those? Did you go to yours?”

“My schools didn’t have them.”

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, but it was flat, nervous, “I didn’t enjoy my time at school, and I don’t see why I would want to be reminded.”

“Maybe he’s still single.”

“I doubt it. He’s balding and divorced, Nadine, one hundred percent. Crushes in your teen years do not hold up. Ah, here. Just...click on internet explorer...”

“God this is ancient,” Nadine muttered, having come over to hover at Chloe’s shoulder again. “Does it even have an antivirus?”

Chloe hovered the mouse over the taskbar. “McAfee.”

“Oh,” Nadine said. “Then, no.”

“I used the same password for Neopets! Let’s see. Oh. Well, the map is different. Didn’t it use to have Mcdonalds?”

Nadine bumped her arm. “I thought you called it Maccas or something here?”

Chloe squinted at her and said, “‘Didn’t it use to have Maccas?’”

Nadine’s laugh was worth it, even as Chloe reached up and gave her a poke in her stomach. Nadine held her stomach and flopped back on the bed. Chloe loved Nadine’s laugh to pieces, loved how it completely overcame her.

“See? My Neopets are all here. Nadine, pull yourself together!”

Nadine did, eventually, and came over to peer at the screen, at Chloe’s five Kaus and two Kougras of varying shades. “Starving. Starving. Starving,” Nadine recited, hovering the mouse over all of them. “Great parenting, Frazer.”

“All right, but they’re not dead, are they? I’ll just go get a free omelet and feed them now,” Chloe said.

“They’re not even wearing any clothes.”

“They’re animals, silly. They don’t wear clothes.”

Nadine snapped, “Let me log in.”

And Chloe had to stare at four perfectly dressed Mynci. Skirts, hats, entire outfits. And they were all fed.

“Someone,” Chloe said darkly, standing and grabbing Nadine’s shoulders, “Waited for me to fall asleep on the plane and logged into her account on the sly--”

“Or maybe I’m just proper at Neopets, Frazer?”

Nadine grappled her back, and they fell onto the twin mattress, giggling and slapping at each other.

“You didn’t even know they could wear clothes. All of them can wear any clothes--” Nadine was saying, as Chloe shook her by the shoulders, “not like those MMO’s that gender-lock everything--oh shit it’s your mum again--”

Nadine said the last few words lightning-fast, trying to separate from Chloe, who only grabbed her tighter, and they both tumbled to the carpet as Leah Frazer walked in.

“What are you doing. Chloe, I swear to God,” the woman said, setting a pitcher of lemonade down by the computer with two glasses. “Stop hitting Ms. Ross. You never grew up.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Oh come off it,” she said. “And get these posters off the walls. It feels like these freaks are about to stab me every time I walk in here.”

“You could have taken them off,” Chloe said, struggling to keep Nadine pinned to the fluffy floor. “Could have made it a nice guest room, chucked all my stuff in the bin--”

“So dramatic,” Leah said, taking her elbow and forcefully pulling her off Nadine. “And immature. Where did you get these cuts?”

She looked at Nadine too, taking her wrist, searching for the scabs that hadn’t quite healed off in the week or two since the end of their adventure in India. Nadine had treated hers, but Chloe’s definitely had worsened. “What were you doing there?”

“Mum, you remember how it was, the mosquitos--” Chloe said.

“Tree branches,” Nadine said tightly.

“--hiking is a--a contact sport--”

“You’re both lying,” Chloe’s mum said. “And to think you brushed it off when I told you about that insurrection. I was watching the news getting worse and worse and you didn’t even call to let me know you were all right, Chloe Frazer.”

The woman headed back to the door, but remembered something, as parents will after having already scolded you, and turned back. “Maybe you can show those photos at the reunion. They’re gorgeous.”

“Mum, I told you, nobody there was on my wavelength.”

Nadine burst out laughing.

A very rare smile came to Leah Frazer’s face. “Well, they usually allow a plus-one...”