#he spends a lot of time wondering at the purpose of this duck

[revenantlore]

It has been established already that Detroit has a vintage, cracked Tamagotchi he names Avy [named after the smear of nearly illegible ink found on the back of a polaroid he has pinned to the wall beside his bed, featuring a group of smiling strangers at a festival of sorts, something about this preserved history appeals to him, a lot] … but what should he name the one-eyed rubber ducky he also finds at Mattix’s pawnshop?

#one eye has been rubbed off by time #he spends a lot of time wondering at the purpose of this duck #finds it almost as intriguing as when mattix shows him their magic 8 ball #which he thinks of as some sort of magical prophet #i love this android boy so much ;; #he could go the logical route and name it something stored in his knowledge database on the topic of ducks #name it after the vinyl plastic material. or the creator of the original rubber duck #or ernie or muppet when he reads on about the rubber duck on sesame street #or jeep when he reads about ducking jeeps #those feel less fun though than some spontaneous something or another #oc : detroit #oc : d3tr0 17

[asherthecatlvr]

Do you perhaps do crossovers (like for example obey me x twst or sumn similar to that)?

If so, could you perhaps do the demon brothers or Diavolo with a Malleus!Male! Reader? Doesn't exactly have to look like Malleus (mainly just the horns and magic abilities, personality too if you wanna add that).

Maybe some fluff headcanons of Diavolo or the demon brothers just simply being around Malleus!reader and spending time with him, and Malleus!reader being somewhat shocked that they aren't really afraid of him?

I'm hope you have a wonderful day!

dude im so sorry i never got any notification that told me i got an ask

Malleus!Reader and the Brothers

When you first arrived, your first instinct was to, well, put your magic talents to use.

Lucifer🦚

After your attack on his brothers, leaving Levi a scar on his arm and Satan a small fire spell to his head, he didn’t like you. At all. What concerned him was your abilities, and of course, your appearance. Nothing could’ve really prepared him to see a tall man with large horns, especially one with the amount of power to actually harm them.

Throughout the year Lucifer (along with his brothers) kinda avoided you, and gave you weird glances and left you alone. It was understandable to you though, and you were kinda used to it.

He eventually warmed up to you, and you did try to keep out of trouble so nothing much happened. His trust also kind of broke a bit when he saw you using magic on his younger brother, Belphegor. He understood it was for defense purposes though.

When he learns that people tend to avoid you and are usually scared of you, he felt a bit bad. He likes spending time with you now, and isn’t scared of you. He adores your love and interest for gargoyles, and is extremely impressed when he finds out what your power level. Nothing could really compare to the brothers though, not even Belphegor.

Mammon💸

Oh god, he was didnt like you at first. He was extremely late to the meeting this time, and decided that his goldie would be broken if he just never showed up. What he didn’t expect was Levi and Satan with some pretty bad wounds, and the human exchange student getting ready to use another spell, targeted at Diavolo.

Lucifer was able to step before he could even react, but man he was ready to fight you too. Even with a sharp glance from Lucifer, only a binding spell from Barbatos was able to stop him.

He pretty much ignored you and hated you, like what gave you the right to harm his brothers?! He won’t let you explain, at all.

During the year he slowly warms up to you but not as much as the regular story. Expect him to forgive you by the time the wounds have healed, and the brothers who had wounds forgive you first.

Levi🐍

He was bored out of his mind when he was suddenly out of his little fantasy and before he can even react, he had felt the blood slowly drip out from his large wound on his arm. Without much thinking, he immediately ducked down from his chair, and took shelter behind the board that separated you and him.

He doesn’t really remember much since it was a blur, a lot of yelling was heard and he could hear Satan grunting and ducking down, with blood on his forehead. He didn’t see him immediately, since he started panicking and looking at at the wound at his arm, roughly 5 inches big with different thorns sticking into his skin, which was in pretty deep. You panicked and used the first thing that came to mind, which was Foral Magic.

He pretty much avoided you after that. He wouldve anyway if that didn’t happen, since you were scary enough. He was able to deal with the wound, with Simeons help he was able to heal in less than a week. A small scar is still there by the time you’d leave, but its not that bad.

He does get closer with you by the end of the year, you were eager to learn what he knew about TSL. Well if you were able to talk about Gargoyles, and he was completely fine with it. Anything to talk to someone about TSL.

Satan📚

For him, this was a… different situation. He was ready to kill you, he was already on the verge of blowing up at Lucifer and Mammon because Lucifer dragged him here and Mammon… Well, hes just being himself, of course.

He didn’t expect some fae to appear instead of a human, especially one to use a fire blast to his face. It was weak enough to not blind him or melt anything off, but enough to hurt him and for him to duck down and panic a bit. That lasted a minute until he was able to open his eyes, and he was ready to murder you. Using a bit of magic, he was able to move up and use the same magic Barbatos used on Mammon to hold him back, and he made sure no spells would harm more people.

After that incident and his wound healing, he didnt pay much attention to you. Most interactions were outbursts against you, so both avoided each other as much as possible. He was the second to last to actually forgive you, right above Belphie. His wrath and anger slowly died down, and he saw that you tried to make things up. He learned that you were kind of similar to him, and doesnt hate you much now.

(I will do the rest soon, tired today and want to get this out as quickly as possible. Im still so sorry for not seeing your ask until now!!)

#obey me #twisted wonderland #obey me x male reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

[justanartisticduck]

can you draw roy in nostalgia + masked? :o

OK!! SO UH THIS HAS A LOT OF STUFF REGARDING MY AU’S BACKSTORY GOING ON SO UH- ILL EXPLAIN IT KINDA- SO! This drawing takes place a few months before the events of June 19th occurred and long before Red had found out what kind of guy Roy truly was.. Now, for timeline purposes, this takes place after Doi’s mom/Daisy’s death aka after Roy snapped BUT this takes place before anyone found out about said things :3 NOW! I know this was meant to be ehm.. just a Roy centric thingy BUT I COULDNT HELP MYSELF FROM ADDING MORE LORE TO MY BACKSTORY STUFF HHEHHEH- ANYWHOOOOO So basically here uh, there isn’t too much of an important scene happening here BUT I did try conveying what is going on with these characters at the time this drawing is taking place. Now, here things are… normal… Everyone, except duck, appears to be happy! Red is showing his passion for puppets to Roy who also appears to be playing along with Red’s special interest. Doi is just being a kid! He isn’t really involving himself in what’s going on with the others, he’s just there lol- then Duck is totally not getting jealous over the fact Red is spending a lot more time with Roy rather than them- (but they are putting up with it bc at least Red is happy-) and yeah!! Everything is… ok… or at least it was at the time.. but now.. reflecting on these once lovely, nostalgic memories has left a… different impression- Now quick thing!! When given the phrase “masked” to work with, I thought at first of giving him a literal mask… but then I thought of something else and rather, using the less literal term for mask “a manner or expression that hides one's true character or feelings; a pretense.” (Definition from google lol) So, the whole time Roy had been masking his true identity, his true motives, and it truly would make you wonder, did he lie about everything? We’re those good times all fake? Just a little act Roy had put up just to keep his true self secret?? Was he ever actually their true friend…? Well, maybe most of it was a lie… but to say he never actually enjoyed those good times… it was debatable. But what was true was that this Roy, the one who was a “true friend”… he is no longer around… and is now replaced by this monster… ANYWHO YEAH NOW I'M DONE- sorry if my words sucked I am tired BUT I AM WILLING TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING OR TALK MORE ABT MY BACKSTORY STUFF!!!!! BUT YEA I'M DONE!! I hope you liked this anon!!

#dhmis #don’t hug me i’m scared #dont hug me im scared #dhmis roy #roy gribbleston #dhmis duck #dhmis robin #dhmis red guy #dhmis harry #dhmis doi #dhmis yellow guy #my art #tw caps #tw death mention #i need to make a tag for my backstory stuff lol :P

[ssahotstuff]

Lie To Me

An Aaron Hotchner x reader series

Aaron Hotchner/Ozark Crossover

Part 15

Part 14 can be found here

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation, crime, fbi talk, crying, mentions of death

Word count: 3.2k

Frank Jr. finally came through. Aaron wouldn't tell you how, only that the threat had been taken care of and you were safe. You were able to continue your night as planned, without the possibility of danger.

"You saved her life," Aaron told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sat next to you at the bar.

"I couldn't just let that lady kill my friend," you defended, taking a deep breath now that you could--you'd been terrified of what the outcome would be, but Ruth was fine.

"Thank you--I know it took a lot to play nice with a guy like Frank Jr."

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink as he looked at you.

"I couldn't let your friend die, baby. Now kiss me and let's try to enjoy the rest of our night, okay?"

He swept you onto the dance floor, spinning you around as the lights twinkled above you, your worries gone for the first time since you'd heard the plan to kill Ruth. You leaned against his chest, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize his intoxicating scent--it was earthy, deep and manly and you loved everything about it.

"Ruth was right; you could really make a name for yourself here," he said softly, gazing down at you under the cover of night.

"I thought we agreed that we'd do this together," you shot back, ready to tackle all of this headfirst with him by your side.

"You're sure about doing this with me? First a house, now the businesses. It's a big commitment."

You looked back at him, a smile on your face as you thought of all the wonderful things you could accomplish together. You didn't know how he felt about it, but maybe you could have a family together one day to pass it all on to.

"I'm certain that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do this with me?"

He nodded, kissing your lips as he spun you around.

"Of course I will. I'd do anything you asked me to."

You stayed for another hour before heading out. Charlotte and Jonah were going to ride with Marty and Wendy so they wouldn't be home until much later. They wanted to stick around and it was good for them to spend time with their parents when they could. Charlotte had a key so you pulled in at Aaron's place. He needed somewhere to keep all of his stuff and it still served a purpose when you needed to be alone.

He met you at the door, standing in the threshold. He opened his arms for you, hugging you before he brought you inside. He led you straight to the bedroom, standing you in front of him while he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Let me look at you now that we don't have an audience," he said softly, his arms brushing your sides, coming to rest on your waist. He let his eyes linger over every inch of you until he settled on your face, a grin teasing his lips.

"You look so good but I really want to undress you," he unzipped your dress, his breathing hitching slightly as he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing, ducking forward to pepper your panty line with sloppy wet kisses.

"Fuck baby, is this all for me?" You nodded, letting him get a good look at you before you took the liberty of undoing your bra and letting it fall to the floor. His mouth moved against your stomach and upwards to your chest, your nipples under his tongue one by one as he brought you into his lap, letting you feel how hard he was through his pants. You moved your hips against him, eager to touch him, be touched--it didn't matter as long as it involved him.

"I can't wait to feel you," you whispered against his ear, and in an instant you were turned over on your back, his hands gripping your thighs harshly as he pulled you to the edge of the bed. You bit your lip, looking down at him on his knees between your legs, slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"I can't wait to kiss you, right here," his fingers caressed your clothed center before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your clit through your panties, the heat of his mouth making your skin become riddled with goosebumps. He tugged your panties down, licking his lips at the sight of you spread open for him. His hands held you down at the hips as he kissed your clit, moaning into you as he began to move his mouth against you in the most tender of ways. In no time your legs were shaking, one of them lazily thrown over his shoulders.

"Fuck, Aaron. Oh my god--" you were unraveling at the seams, all of your senses overpowered at once. He continued to lap at you through your orgasm, but he'd never stop, not when he knew he could make another happen quickly after. He eagerly sucked at your clit until your nails were scratching at his back and he let out a breathy groan before urging you to do it again.

"Your nails feel so goddamn good, baby. You should keep them like this--I'll pay for them," you gently raked your nails across his skin, making him shiver beneath your delicate touch. His mouth was replaced by his fingers, teasing your slit before slipping inside of you, watching closely for your reaction as he began to pump them into you. You held your breath, the pressure building quicker than ever before you soaked his fingers, your arousal dripping from his fingertips. He sucked them clean before encouraging you to do it again, going a bit quicker this time, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

"That's it baby, make a mess for me," he pleaded, and in no time you were drenched, your thighs sticky as you panted for breath. You had no time to register his movements before he was standing up and putting your legs together, bringing them to rest against his chest as he pushed past your swollen folds and slid into your warm, wet center.

"Oh, baby--gotta go slow or else I'll get ahead of myself," he choked, dragging his hips at such a gentle pace you thought you might burst--it was new and incredible, making you arch your back in seconds, so close to the edge you could barely stand it.

"Fuck--you look so good baby. I love you so much," his eyes fluttered closed, his speed increasing significantly as his hips started to slam against yours.

"I love you, Aaron," it was breathy and desperate as you tried and failed to keep from hurdling over the edge; you writhed against him, making it impossible for him to prolong his own orgasm any longer as he spilled into you with a groan. He was quick to part your legs and lean down to kiss you, coming to lay at your side as he caught his breath.

"We'll break ground in a month; the crew can probably have the house built in 6 months, maybe less," he seemed excited to tell you; you'd almost forgotten he met with the contractor before the gala.

"It seems unreal," a few months ago you were all alone--now you had a life partner, someone you could always count on. You'd known when you first started seeing him that he was bound to change your life, and he'd flipped it upside down. He had filled your whole world with so much love and support that you thanked the universe constantly for bringing him to you.

"What's unreal is the amount of money you're going to have owning a riverboat casino," he chuckled, but you made a face.

"We own a casino and a restaurant. Not just me. We can get a lawyer and make everything official if you want," you suggested, and his eyes went wide before he kissed you hard on the mouth.

"What if I told you I knew I way to leave the lawyers out of it?" You were intrigued immediately, because you weren't sure how he'd pull it off, or what he even meant until he stood up and started to get dressed, opting for his pajamas this time instead of his slacks. He grabbed his slacks too, but only so he could reach into the pocket as produce a ring, no doubt the one Charlotte had told you about.

"Why don't you just marry me?"

✨✨✨

You didn't get to celebrate for long.

When Marty showed up, he filled you in about the failed attempt to take Ruth's life--according to Marty, the cartel was without leadership, so there was no one to make a deal with. Marty was going back to Mexico in order to find a leader and get a deal going, and Aaron would be going with him.

"We leave in the morning," he told Aaron when he dropped the kids off, telling you both goodnight before you closed the door. You were in tears as soon as the door shut, and Aaron was taking you into his arms.

"I hate this," you cried, unable to do anything because until he retired, this was his job and he'd do whatever it took to excel at it.

"I know, baby. I wish I didn't have to leave you; I'll make it back to you as soon as I can."

You held him a bit tighter that night, afraid of what would happen while he was in Mexico. You'd told Marty you'd take the deal with the casino, so you were back looking for another waitress at The Blue Cat so you'd have more time for the casino. You were cutting back your hours dramatically so you'd have more time to deal with the casino and time to put into your relationship. You were officially engaged, sporting a gorgeous diamond on your finger, and your house would be getting started soon, so you had plenty to look forward to when he got back.

The bed was cold when you woke, a note on the bedside table the only remnants of him when morning came. You started the day with coffee as usual, Charlotte joining you shortly after. Her eyes went wide as she looked at your hand, reaching out to examine it further.

"Oh my god," she said simply, looking to you for confirmation.

"Last night. We were talking about running the businesses together and he proposed," you gushed, letting her share the excitement with you since Aaron wasn't around. He told you he'd call when he could, but you understood that he was going to do a job and he'd be busy while he was away.

✨✨✨

Aaron

I missed her as soon as I had to leave especially considering she'd agreed to take my last name just before I got word I had to go. I sent her a text to let her know our flight was boarding and that I'd talk to her soon, knowing she was probably heading to work for the day.

"So is she going to take the casino?" We'd been getting along much better as of recently--we'd simply decided to put our difference aside and focus on what we had in common, which was her and the kids.

"I think so. As soon as I retire, we're going to do things together," I told him, not sure how to bring up the fact that I'd proposed to her but he deserved to find out from me and not someone else.

"That's a big step," he said, more happy than anything that she'd found someone to take care of her. I knew he didn't like my job or the position I was often put in, but he knew I wanted nothing but the best for her.

"She said she'd marry me," he paused as he buckled his seatbelt, looking back at me, bewildered.

"You're marrying her? Hotch, that's a big deal. Jesus Christ, why didn't you tell me?"

I explained that I'd only asked her the night before, and his face fell, his lips pulled in a flat line across his face.

"I'm sorry. I know I probably ruined the moment, but we've got to find someone that knows the cartel to run it. There's a man, Luis Hector--Wendy says he's our guy," I sure hoped he was, or else this would all get messy for Marty.

"Just get it done so I can retire and live my life."

The compound was always buzzing with life that seemed to turn grim when Marty arrived. Everyone gathered in a large conference room so Marty could explain the situation. They explained this Luis guy would know the business well enough to take over, and arranged for him to come talk to Marty the following morning. It was nearly bedtime, so all I had to do was sit tight until this mess was over. Marty showed me to a bedroom, so I called Y/n, locking the door behind me.

"Hi baby," her voice was soothing pouring in from the other line, like music to my ears.

"Hi sweetheart. I wanted to call before bed. What's my sweet girl doing?"

She giggled on the other line, going quiet for a second.

"I'm just getting home, I'm changing into something more comfortable. These shorts are killing me," I couldn't help but slide my slacks down and palm myself through my boxers at the sound of her sweet little voice, thinking about undressing her.

"I can't wait to be back so I can undress you. I miss you so fucking much," I slipped my boxers down and gripped my length, stroking slowly as she talked to me.

"I miss you baby. So lonely without you. I miss having you here to hold me," she whined, and I could hear her bed shift as she laid down, and I longed to be next to her so badly.

"I'll hold you as much as you want when I get back. I can't believe we're engaged. We'll have to celebrate properly when I come home, now that you're my fiancée," I told her, making plans to have every inch of her under my tongue the minute I'd arrived home.

"What did you have in mind?"

I debated on saying what I was thinking or not--I knew she'd appreciate my honestly, but my thoughts were blinded by pleasure as I flicked my wrist and imagined it was her gripping my cock, looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers.

"It involves my head between your legs, that much I'm certain of," she let out a little sigh, cute and soft into the receiver, which only made me tug more aggressively, wish she was here to wrap her lips around me.

"What I'd give to have your mouth on me," she whimpered, making my brows come together as I cleared my throat.

"As soon as I'm home, baby. I won't stop until you can't take anymore. I miss the way you taste," she was always so sweet, it was divine. I could spend hours nestled between her thighs, making her legs shake uncontrollably.

"I miss the way you feel, Aaron. Wish you were here to fill me up, fuck me until I can't walk," I wondered if she had the same idea as me, and the idea of asking her to touch herself entered my mind--I'd come unglued if I knew she was playing with herself and talking to me at the same time.

"Touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are, sweetheart," I begged, and she whimpered softly into the phone before letting out a shaky breath.

"I'm soaked, Aaron. I really want to cum, will you help me, baby?" I couldn't resist her even if I wanted to, all I could think about was slipping my tongue through her folds, licking up every sweet drop of arousal she could give me.

"Of course I will baby. You deserve to cum, you've had such a long day. I wish I could spread you open, feel how wet you are for me, baby," she let out a breathy moan that had my hand tightening around my cock, fucking my hand furiously as her breathing got heavy on the other line.

"Fuck, Aaron. I miss your fingers," I could hear how drenched she was, her fingers slipping through her slick hastily, so I closed my eyes and listened intently, wishing I could see her more than anything.

"You sound so needy baby. Are you close? Is that what's got you so flustered?"

She made a strangled noise and then made a soft 'mhm' sound, letting out a breath she'd been keeping to herself. I was close too, but I was waiting on her. As soon as she came, I'd lose it, and I knew it. I couldn't help myself; she made me want to videotape her every time she reached her high, that's how good it was.

"So close, Aaron. Promise me you'll be home soon? I can't stand it, you being so far away from me," she finally let herself come, moaning my name into the phone as I came shortly after--her breathing was unsteady as she sighed contentedly, making me smile at the sound.

"Marty's meeting with someone in the morning. I hope I can be back before tomorrow night. This is hard, getting ready to sleep in a bed without you is no fun."

"Will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?" I put her on speaker and got undressed, sliding under the covers. They felt strange and unfamiliar and it made me miss our bed more than anything.

"Of course baby. You can hang up if you wake up before me," I was already getting sleepy, so I put the phone on the pillow next to me, letting it charge. She yawned, and I could hear her climbing under the covers.

"Gonna sleep with your pillow tonight," she whispered, and I couldn't help but giggle at how sweet her sleepy voice sounded, making the lump in my throat grow considerably. Being away from her was something that I never wanted to do again--I wanted Marty to make a deal so I could retire and do life with her, something new and different and safe.

"I love you baby," she was already dozing off, but I heard her tell me she loved me too, and that was enough for me to drift off to sleep.

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller @fireworksinthesky

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #thomas gibson #ssa aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #jason bateman ozark #Ozark

[greyfrey3]

Lanterns floating on a snowy river

“I don’t see what the point is,” Katsuki grumbles. It’s a complaint he’s let Izuku hear a hundred times this week, ever since his friend/rival won the bet and essentially sealed Katsuki’s doom.

How was he supposed to know how fast Izuku could sprint in a foot race? He was like a damn arctic fox, bounding across the top of the icy drifts. Meanwhile, the same snow that Izuku carved through like powder had bogged Katsuki down, clinging to him like sticky mud. He’d lost the race, fair and square. He’d also lost the argument afterwards.

“‘Anywhere I want’, you said,” Izuku teases, grinning cheerfully. “‘You can’t beat me, so what does it matter?’ Or something like that. Hard to keep it straight.”

I told him he didn’t stand a chance, actually. Although it’s not like he’s going to remind Izuku of that. The green-haired bastard is already smug enough about it… though he hides it behind smiles and gentle barbs, Katsuki can sense just how pleased he is with his performance.

There is no getting out of the festival now.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Izuku bumps into his shoulder good-naturedly. “Try to have some fun. We’ve never been before. Who knows? You might like it!”

“What’s so special about a snow festival? We’re neck deep in the stuff half the year. Why celebrate it?”

Izuku doesn’t give him a reply, other than his smile widening slightly. There is a hint of pink in his cheeks that Katsuki doesn’t understand, but then the other man is leading him towards the first stall.

Large festivals like this one are rare—mostly because they typically take place in faraway lands, at times of the year that aren’t convenient for Izuku or Katsuki. The sheep and goats they herd spend the warm season feeding in the grasslands, away from civilization.

But this winter, they settled down near a large town, and when Izuku got wind of an upcoming festival—even if it did celebrate something as ridiculous as snow—he just had to attend, dragging Katsuki along behind him. If it hadn’t been a foot race, he would’ve arranged something else, continuing to challenge Katsuki until he eventually won.

…so in a way, Katsuki did him a favor by losing. Yeah, that’s it. He subconsciously did it on purpose, giving the green-haired herder what he wanted.

“You don’t like snow, Kacchan?” Izuku wonders. The teasing tone is gone, now he’s just curious. “Not even the first storm of the year?”

Katsuki thinks of all the labor that goes into bedding down the animals and ensuring that none of them freezes to death. It’s a lot of hours of scrambling around, uncomfortable, his back covered in a sheen of sweat while his face freezes.

But he also thinks of the time when the work is done, when he and Izuku sneak off to watch the first flakes drift from the sky. There’s a certain serenity to it, a peace that only comes when the other is by his side.

“It’s alright. This place is interesting, at least.”

The market buzzes with more people than they’re used to seeing. There’s frozen pieces of ice to eat, dyed in a variety of colors and flavors. There’s a sculpture contest and an organized snowball fight. There’s plenty of food and shiny souvenirs for sale in the market. It’s busy and loud; a winter town brimming with life and activity.

Katsuki doesn’t have any regrets as they spend a few hours walking around, drinking it in… except he wishes he had known about the traditional robes. He would have brought more money to purchase a set for him and Izuku. Mostly to fit in with the crowd, but also because he thinks that the green and gold fabric would look really nice on the other.

They run out of things to do after a while, and he assumes it’s time to head back to their shared tent. “Ready?” he asks. “The sun is setting.”

“There’s one more thing I want to see.” Izuku avoids his gaze, ducking his head as he loops his arm through Katsuki’s. “Come on, Kacchan.”

Katsuki allows himself to be tugged along, puzzled by what’s happening. Despite the layers of clothing they have on, he can see the skin of Izuku’s neck blushing red. “Do you have a fever?”

“N-no!” Izuku suddenly stops, causing Katsuki to bump into him. A little too loudly, he announces, “Here we are!”

‘Here’ is a small, winding canal, cutting through the heart of the town. Its waters trickle along, babbling gently. Snow leans in from the banks, thick and white. It’s a beautiful scene, cast in soft, glowing light—the light that comes from the hundreds of lanterns floating in the water.

Izuku gasps. “It’s so…”

He never finishes that thought as he turns to face Katsuki, green eyes shining with joy and awe. So Katsuki does it for him. “…stunning.”

His heart picks up speed, thumping like a snow hare across frozen earth. Vaguely, wonders what’s wrong with him. Oddly enough, it beats even faster as Izuku leans in.

His eyes dart to Izuku’s lips. For an insane moment, he wonders what they might feel like against his own.

“Want to send off a lantern with me?”

It takes a moment for Katsuki to understand. Clearing his throat, he responds with a choked out “yes”. Katsuki's thoughts are a mess as they purchase a lantern, several new realizations hitting him at once.

He likes Izuku. And maybe—based on the way the other’s arm is looped through his, pulling him in close—Izuku feels the same way.

The vendor says something odd as he lights it for them. “I wish you many years of happiness.”

Blonde brows shoot up and crimson eyes cut to Izuku. He’s turning bright red and profusely thanking the vendor, then busily herds Katsuki towards the water’s edge.

“Many years of happiness, huh?” He grills Izuku when they’re out of earshot.

“It’s just a blessing, Kacchan,” Izuku reassures, though the blush on his face has spread adorably to his ears.

“Is this some kind of romantic thing?” Katsuki continues to prod, enjoying the way Izuku immediately starts mumbling under his breath. He’s always been so fun to tease, giving the most ridiculous reactions.

“—I honestly didn’t know, Kacchan! I-it’s not a big deal if you don’t want to. I can just release it myself, you don’t have to worry about it, I understand and—”

While the squeaky babbling is cute, Katsuki can only let him squirm for so long. “Hands off,” he tells him with a smirk. “I paid. This was your idea. Let’s release it together.”

They both kneel by the water’s edge, placing the rickety lantern on its surface. Katsuki is glad the current isn’t too strong, because it doesn’t look particularly sturdy.

“So are we supposed to make a wish or something?” he wonders, fingers grasping it tightly.

“I guess?” Izuku blinks at him. His green eyes are suddenly more mesmerizing than they have ever been before. The blush in his cheeks clings stubbornly, refusing to leave. The sight lifts Katsuki’s spirits, makes his chest feel fuller.

It’s as though this entire day has cast Izuku in a new light, changing the way Katsuki views him. They’ve been so focused on their pastoral life until now, leaving no time for anything else. At least, that’s what Katsuki had thought. But today has opened his mind to new possibilities.

He realizes that he likes making Izuku happy. A lantern, a day out on the town—Katsuki wants to give him these experiences again, and more.

They already share their days. Now Katsuki knows that he wants them to share the rest of their lives, too.

“Sure, let's make a wish,” he murmurs. “On one, two, three…”

Katsuki waits half a beat until Izuku focuses on the glowing lantern, speaking first.

“To a healthy season.”

“…to many years of happiness,” Katsuki states firmly. When Izuku turns to stare at him, mouth falling open in surprise, he adds quietly, “With you by my side.”

The shock written on Izuku’s face is quickly replaced by joy, pulling his mouth into a wide, blinding grin.

#bkdk winter au #bkdk #dkbk #bkdkbk #festival #pining #falling in love

[jupitermelichios]

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

#skyrim #spoilers #technically #although this game is a decade old and we all own at least two versions of it at this point #so i'm not sure it counts #long post

[fanimesenseiwrites]

Things the MC would bring back to their demon bois from the mortal realm:

Lucifer:

MC goes to second hand stores and vintage shops always on the look out for vinyl records that they think Lucifer would like.

Most of the time they try and bring back stuff he'd actually like, such as Tchaikovsky or Vivaldi

Once, they brought back Stravinsky's Firebird Suite and Lucifer wouldn't stop kissing them (once they were in the privacy of his room of course)

Sometimes the MC will bring back more modern music just because it makes them think of him

"I dunno, I just listen to Hozier and think of you"

Lucifer doesn't like all the modern music they bring back but he appreciates the sentiment just the same

Then there's the gag gifts...

Any kind of music that has a reference to the devil or Satan or hell is fair game

These gifts usually elicit an eye roll from the eldest brother but he keeps them all the same

This is why Lucifer owns a copy of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

So when MC brings back a copy of Giuseppe Tartini's Violin Sonata in G minor, they're a little surprised at Lucifer's delighted reaction

"You know, I was the one who visited Tartini in his dreams."

MC's mind = blown.

"Also, this copy is cursed. I know you know how much I enjoy cursed vinyls."

"I- wait... What?!"

MC is very upset that they had a cursed vinyl in their possession this whole time

Mammon:

This boy loves stuff, and he loves MC, so he's gonna love any gift really

But MC knows he loves treasure and jewels and as much as they'd love to just bring him back nice watches and jewelery...

MONEY IS A THING, AND MC IS NOT MADE OF IT.

So MC settles for semi-precious stones instead

They always find fun and beautiful stones at museums and those metaphysical stores and they always pick out one that reminds them of Mammon

They're really nervous when they give him his first gift

"Hey, I got this for you and I know it's not fancy or expensive but I saw it and thought of you and I just wanted you to have it."

Mammon will love them until they die. He is really just so touched that MC thought of him. He'll try and play it cool though

He totally fails. MC won't tell him that though

MC brings him Lapis Lazuli and tells him it reminded them of his eyes and Mammon is now a puddle of lovesick goo on the floor

Mammon puts more shelves in his room dedicated to all the gifts MC gives him

One time MC brings him back some fool's gold in a teeny little jar on a chain, so that he can wear it

"Fool's gold? Why cuz I'm a fool?" Mammon asks with a roll of his eyes.

"What? No, cuz I'm a fool for you."

Mammon only love MC until they die? WRONG.

He's gonna love them forever now

He was gonna do that anyways

Leviathan:

C'mon, this boy is easy. Anime/manga stuff and TSL. Need I say more?

At first he'll be suspicious of MC wanting to give him gifts, but once they've convinced him that they're doing it out of the kindness of their heart he's really touched

The first thing the MC brings him is a pen with a little Ruri-Chan on the end of it

"I know it's not much, but I just happened to see it and I knew you'd like it"

Like it??????

HE LOVES IT! HE'S OVER THE GODDAMM MOON.

He's never seen anything like this in the Devildom and he doesn't think about the small stuff usually because he's too busy trying to get the big collectors edition items. So he actually really loves this.

MC continues to bring him cute small stuff like buttons and keychains and Levi loves them all.

His favorite item(s) that MC brought him is a pair of Lord of Shadows and Henry BFF enamel pins

He definitely tackle hugged MC when he got them

He gives the Lord of Shadows pin back to MC so they can each have one and show off their BFF status with them

Satan:

MC loves going to second-hand bookstores to shop for Satan.

Satan also appreciates new books, but there's something special about how his face lights up when he finds something old or rare. Anything with a little bit of history to it.

Of course, finding rare books for not a lot of money is a rare event in itself

So a safe bet is to bring Satan non-fiction, the boy loves to learn

But he really loves it when MC puts thought into finding fiction books that he would like

"I just really feel like you'd like Dean Koontz so I brought you one of my favorites by him."

Satan loves those gifts the most because he can talk to MC about the books afterwards

Satan's absolute favourite gift is a leather bound copy of Arabian Nights though

"I was thinking we could read this one together"

"Like you read it to me and pretend to be Scheherazade?" Satan suggests.

MC is flustered at the connotation of the suggestion but agrees anyways

The time they spend together reading that story will forever be one of Satan's favorite memories

Asmodeus:

He's a little harder to shop for than the MC had originally imagined

They tried bringing him make-up and skin care, which Asmo always graciously accepted, but he never seemed super excited about the gifts

But what else is to be expected from the guy who already uses only the best products?

MC suddenly gets an idea when they send Asmo a selfie of them at the park

- OMG! You're so cute! And the background is pretty too!-

MC starts dressing up and going to nice and beautiful places just with the intention of taking pictures

Botanical Gardens, museums, downtown skylines, anything that would make for a good picture

MC goes full on aesthetic art hoe just for Asmo

Only the best pictures get sent to Asmo

Asmo is LIVING for the looks their MC is serving up

- You are absolutely STUNNING! I'm in awe at these AMAZING pictures-

MC makes a scrapbook of the best pictures to give to Asmo the next time they see him

Asmo loves it and keeps it on display in his room always

Also, Asmo definitely makes MC their personal photographer after seeing the wonderful shots they took

Beelzebub:

Obviously, the boy loves food. He's always down to try new snacks from the mortal realm.

But MC wonders if there's something better that they could bring him

One day MC is at GNC for supplements for themself when they notice the workout supplements and get an idea

They grab some fun flavored protein powder and some BCAAs and a really nice shaker bottle just for Beel

Beel is actually really excited to get these gifts!

The Devildom doesn't have fun flavors of protein powder and the shaker bottle is such a great idea!

MC always brings new flavors of protein back for Beel, doing their best to find the weirdest flavors for him to try

Beel's favorite is definitely Birthday Cake.

MC starts bringing him new stuff to try too, protein bars, recovery supplements, collagen, and superfoods shakes

Beel tries everything and tells MC what their favorites are

"I love the BCAAs, I just wish the Devildom had them..." *sad Beel noises*

MC may or may not talk to Diavolo about researching BCAAs and getting them produced and sold in the Devildom

The supplements MC brings actually help Beel with his workouts and to control his hunger (a little)

Beel actually gets hotter??? Who knew that was possible???

MC definitely takes advantage of Beel's new 8-pack 😏😏😏

Belphegor:

What do you get the boy who only wants to sleep?

MC has gotten him stuffed animals and blankets and even a couple of nice pillows, but nothing seems to excite him

... but maybe that's just his personality??

It's not until MC accidentally leaves a sweater in the Devildom, that they figure it out

- You left your sweater down here- Belphie texts MC.

- Oh no, I'll just get when I come to visit y'all again-

- That's fine. I like having something that smells like you-

And the light bulb went off in MC's head.

Every time MC goes to visit they leave a shirt or sweater behind for Belphie, so that he can have something that smells like them.

Belphie loves how MC smells, its like a sweet dream all the time. It helps him sleep better when they're gone.

Belphie starts to complain when MC is gone longer than the item they left smells like them

(Which is every time)

So MC will start leaving Belphie more than one item, packing them in airtight bags so he can use them one after another until they return

Belphie can and will fight anyone who tries to take MC's clothing

"Mammon, you have two seconds to put that sweater back or I will kill you."

And Lucifer probably won't stop him

Diavolo:

He's honestly the easiest to please.

He's so fascinated with any thing that humans do that he'll enjoy any gift from the human world.

MC's first gift to him is a rubber duck.

"The duck is wearing a crown so it made me think of you and I just thought it was cute."

"I love it! What's its purpose?"

"Uh... to float around in the bathtub with you and look cute?"

"Isn't that what you're for?"

Diavolo loves the rubber duck so much it gets his own silk pillow to rest on when it's not taking a bath with Diavolo.

MC brings him cute pens, and keychains sometimes bottles of wine if the bottle is cute.

"The bottle is shaped like a cat! Isn't that delightful?!"

MC's proudest moment was when they found a full and intact tea set at the thrift store

Diavolo immediately fell in love with it.

He insists on only using that set when having tea with MC

But his favorite gift will always be the rubber duck.

Barbatos:

He'll insist that he doesn't need any gifts but that won't stop the MC.

MC is with him in the kitchen in the Demon Lord's Palace when they get an idea.

KITCHEN TOYS.

Barbatos works so hard, he deserves some things to make his life easier and liven up the bland kitchen

MC's first gift is a vegetable spiralizer.

"You use it to turn zucchini and squash and the like into noodles so that you can do fun stuff with vegetables!"

Barbatos accepts it graciously, but he'll probably never use it.

MC brings him spices from the mortal realm and Barbatos actually really loves those.

When MC brings him a food processor, he offers to cook for them right then and there

Despite all the weird gadgets MC ends up bringing him, and there are plenty out there, Barbatos's favorite is a ladle that looks like a stegosaurus.

It's far more whimsical than anything he would've ever picked out, and he'll never use it, but only because he's afraid of ruining it, not because he doesn't love it.

At some point, Barbatos does ask MC to stop bringing him kitchen gadgets

"Why? Do you not like them?" MC asks with a pout.

"I appreciate all of them, but I have everything I need when you're in the kitchen with me."

If MC wasn't already in love with him they are now

Smooth bastard just doesn't want anymore shit in his kitchen

#whoo boy this was long #but I loved writing it #if you got any ideas like this send them my way #obey me shall we date #obey-me-diavolo #obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me Mammon #obey me Levi #obey me Leviathan #obey me Satan #obey me Asmo #obey me Asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me Beelzebub #obey me Belphie #obey me Belphegor #obey me Diavolo #obey me dia #obey me Barbatos #obey me barbie #obey me barb #obey me demons #obey me seven brothers

[tarydarrington]

"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

-

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

#okay here's the strategy. i posted a ficlet i'm happy with last week and i finished another one i'm happy with yesterday #so if i sandwich this in between the two surely i will not believe i am entirely worthless as a writer because of it #...probably #queueing it to post when i'm not home to physically wrench my hand away from the delete post button #shadowgast #background beauyasha #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek #veth #beau #yasha

[devildomdisaster]

Hi can I ask for the reaction of the demon brothers to the mc who always behaves fearlessly, but is afraid of a sharp clap and hides behind them?

Hi anon, this is my first ask for this blog so I hope it's what you wanted.

I got a bit carried away with this one so it ended up a bit long.

Normally fearless mc who hides behind the brothers after a loud noise

Lucifer:

Initially, Lucifer thinks that a human who has little to no magic ability (at least at first) is going to be helpless and frightened of almost everything. This is the Devildom after all, and demons would love to eat a sweet human soul.

But you routinely stand up not only to his brothers but to him.

Honestly, he finds it frustrating.

With no way to intimidate you Lucifer’s normal tactics to ensure proper behavior are rendered useless.

Not only that but you encourage his brothers to act up as well.

But your fearlessness has also endeared you to him.

Even more pride than normal radiates off him when he sees you put some lower-level demon or his brothers in their place. Even if he has to step in sometimes.

Lucifer discovers your fear as you walk into Ristorante Six and a waiter drops a tray of drinks behind you as you are being shown to your table

The tray hits the ground with a loud clatter

Lucifer turns at the noise but otherwise thinks little of the situation

You however are immediately hidden behind him, hands fisted tightly around handfuls of the back of his coat

He is surprised but quickly schools his expression into one of concern.

His first thought is if you are alright, did something on the tray somehow hit you?

He turns to you, taking your clenched fists into his hands.

For all intents and purposes you seem physically fine just…scared. Truly frightened.

Later when you have calmed down he might ask you about your reaction. But for now he will simply comfort you.

He pulls you into his arms whispering lowly into your ear, “there is nothing that can hurt you while I am here Mc. It’s alright.”

Once your breathing has slowed he’ll ask if you’d like to leave and go back to the house of lamentation.

If you were just startled he’ll spend the evening as planned, although he is far more aware of the movement of the surrounding demons. And any possible loud noises that could startle you again.

If you do want to go home he will gladly take you, he’ll propose a quieter evening, relaxing in his study listening to his records perhaps?

Mammon:

Oh, his fearless human!

He is oh so impressed at your bravery.

It’s almost reckless at times how little fear you seem to have in the face of demons.

This boy loves to watch you stand up to other demons or handle situations that others would consider frightening (especially for humans).

Your fearlessness makes you the perfect partner in crime for his schemes.

He loves the rush of getting away with his schemes and loves having you there to share that rush with even more.

Of course, when you do participate in his less than honest scheming, or even his honest ones, he is always there to protect you.

Watching you be fearless is fun but if anything could actually hurt you he is always aware of it. Ready to step in front of you at any moment. You’re his human after all. It wouldn’t due to have something harm you when he can prevent it.

You’re not even outside the house of lamentation when a rather peeved Lucifer comes into the kitchen. “Mammon!” he thunders with a loud slap of his hands on the counter.

You jump behind Mammon, face pressed into his back

One of Mammon’s arms unconsciously reaches behind him to shield you even more.

He is shocked at your reaction but the instinct to protect you kicks in instantly.

“Lucifer” Mammon warns quietly with a quick glance towards you behind him “could we maybe do this later I think Mc…” He trails off

Once Lucifer is gone, seeming to have gotten the gist of the situation, Mammon turns to you. one hand stroking your head gently until you look at him.

“Hey, Mc you’re ok. What’s gotten into ya?”

“The noise” you mumble. Half embarrassed, half still trying to calm your racing heart.

“Geez Mc, ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout stuff like that when I’m around”

He doesn’t quite understand why a loud noise would scare you but is more than willing to listen if you want to explain.

Levi

Levi doesn’t get you.

How can some magicless normie human not be afraid in the Devildom? Surrounded by actual demons? Whatever it’s not like he gets normies anyway.

But then he gets to know you and he actually likes you. You’re his Henry now, his player 2 or… whichever you prefer Mc. Even admitting this to himself is sometimes so hard.

Your whole fearlessness thing still confuses him, but it’s impressive too.

He enjoys being able to play horror games with you or watch horror anime without you being terrified.

It’s like nothing phases you. You can face down anything the Devildom throws at you. Levi thinks you’re so cool, it’s almost not fair!

He kind of wonders what actually scares you

He finds out one night when Asmo throws the door to his room open so hard it bounces off the wall with a loud slam.

Asmo is crowing about family bonding night and repainting Levi’s nails “because gaming isn’t all that matters Leviathan, and you should have been in the living room half an hour ago!”

Levi groans at Asmo’s outburst. Then pauses, blinks slowly, and realizes you’re hidden behind him quaking in…in fear?

His demon form slips out quietly and he wraps his tail around your waist protectively.

He doesn’t understand why you’re frightened but he’s got you covered normie.

“Ohhh, I didn’t know you were playing that kind of game!” Asmo grins purposely misreading the situation. “You and Mc can come down when you’re done.” he sings, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

Levi’s face is so red, he opens and closes his mouth several times before any words make it out.

“M-mc did did Asmo do something to you? or?” He’s trying to figure out what’s got you so scared.

But he’s still so flustered from Asmo’s teasing that he can’t turn to face you. Instead, he keeps his tail protectively and hopefully comfortingly around your waist.

“No” you sniff “the noise. When the door, it just”

“Oh, good. Not good-good! I mean good that Asmo didn’t do anything.”

You’re both silent for a long moment as Levi composes himself and turns around. Levi finally has time for his surprise to hit him. This is what you are afraid of? He never would have guessed. Still, he doesn’t think any less of you. How could he? Everyone’s got their things, their fears.

“Thanks, Levi,” You say, tapping his tail gratefully.

You get to watch the red bloom across his face this time.

Satan

You being fearless is intriguing and impressive.

He has read about all sorts of phobias and a part of him wants to expose you to some common ones just to see if any of them scare you.

But he won’t.

He likes you too much for that.

You aren’t afraid of pranking Lucifer with him.

Or of late-night library searches, or cursed books, or most importantly of him.

He expected you to be afraid of him, he is the avatar of wrath after all, and his anger can and has made him lose control.

But you're not the least bit afraid of him. He truly appreciates that.

While cooking dinner the loud clatter of a pot falling to the floor and splashing its contents to the ground makes him curse and then sigh, but it makes you jump behind him.

hm? Oh. Oh!

With one hand gripping his shoulder and the other clutching his shirt, it only takes a moment for him to recognize your fear.

He realizes pretty quickly that it must have been the loud noise.

There’s a part of him, the same part that had wanted to test you for hidden phobias, that is immensely satisfied with this new information about his favorite human. Excited even.

Satan feels that knowing there is something that scares you makes you more real.

He almost chuckles at your reaction.

Instead, he guides you to a seat and as he straightens lets his knuckles brush your cheek gently.

“Are you alright Mc?”

He waits until the shock and fear have worn off before cleaning up the mess on the floor.

He knew there had to be something that scared you, he just hopes this fear isn’t tied to any…unpleasant people or situations in your life. Just the thought of that erases all his satisfaction at discovering your fear.

If you’re still a bit rattled he’ll keep you distracted, while he finishes cooking, with tales of the Devildom and the new installment of his favorite mystery show or the new novel he’s reading that he thinks you might like.

If you have recovered he’ll gladly accept your help finishing dinner.

Asmo

Asmo loves your fearlessness.

He thinks it makes you even more attractive.

He says that other than your magical potential it was one of the things that led him to make a pact with you.

“Nothing seemed to phase you, I just had to know more!”

Drags/brings you shopping a lot partly just to watch you stare rude demons down.

Of course, he is always there just in case a demon doesn’t get the point, but he takes a kind of pleasure in seeing demons try and fail to intimidate you, before leaving in shock and shame at being unable to scare a mere human.

He doesn’t let you get into dangerous situations if he can help it. Being confident and fearless is all well and good Mc, but you are still a human and demons can be dangerous.

During one of your shopping trips, there is a loud clap of excitement from a demon when they find what they were looking for.

You gasp and duck behind Asmo.

He turns an amused smile on his face.

“Mc, how can you possibly help me look for my size when you…oh!

As he sees your face he understands. You’re afraid.

He is flattered that you chose to hide behind him for protection. He thinks it shows how much you truly trust him.

He takes your hand in his, even as his head tilts slightly trying to figure out what scared you.

It all clicks a moment later. The noise.

He grips your hand a bit tighter and guides you out of the store, away from the situation.

Asmo knows that your reaction could have just been from being startled but he also knows that it could be tied to a deeper fear of something or someone.

He hopes you were just startled but makes sure you know that he will always protect you from your fears. Minor or serious.

If you let him he will have a whole self-care spa day with you after you get back to the house of lamentation.

Beel

Beel is impressed by a fearless human.

Especially one with little to no magic when first coming to the Devildom.

But he is also concerned for you.

He worries you might do something reckless.

So he makes sure to be around in order to make sure you stay safe.

Will 100% eat a lesser demon who tries to harm you.

Beel wants you to be safe.

But he is glad that your fearless nature gives you the confidence to explore more of the Devildom than just RAD classes.

He is so happy when you want to go somewhere new with him, maybe to a restaurant or cafe you haven’t tried yet.

The first time you hide behind him is after the wind blows a chair over at a nearby table outside a cafe.

You are on your feet in an instant

And in the next, you are almost cowering behind him.

Beel is startled.

He doesn’t understand why you seem so afraid.

But he pulls you into his arms anyway.

Beel comes right out and asks you about your reaction.

When you explain that it was the loud noise Beel nods.

He wants to ask if you were just startled or if there is more to your fear but doesn’t want to overstep.

He’ll wait until you are headed back to the house to ask.

Whatever your answer is he’ll accept it and in the future act accordingly to prevent you from being afraid.

Belphie

Honestly hates how fearless you are at first.

It annoys him and he wants to make you afraid of him…until he doesn't.

And the complete 180 surprises even him.

He still wonders how a human can be so fearless and kind of wonders if it's all an act you use to protect yourself.

Even so, he’s still impressed that you can be fearless in the Devildom.

He’s another one who likes to see you tell other demons to get lost.

He thinks that a human chasing off a Demon in the realm of demons is hilarious.

On the way to RAD one morning what sounds like a loud clap causes Belphie to turn and see another demon being slapped.

He goes to make a snide comment to you, only you aren’t standing next to him anymore.

Instead, you are tucked behind him holding tightly to his uniform jacket.

“Um, Mc? What exactly are you doing?”

And that’s when it all comes out.

The noise had scared you so much you had hidden behind him.

Belphie just shrugs. It’s surprising sure, considering all the other things you’ve seen and experienced in the Devildom. But hey you are a human, something was bound to scare you eventually.

He’s curious if you are just easily startled or if you have a fear of sudden loud noises.

Unlike his brothers (*Satan) he is curious enough to test you and see which it is.

Unless you come out then and there to tell him you have a fear of loud noises he will plan out a ‘prank’ to startle you again.

If it turns out it’s not a fear caused by anything serious and you are just easily startled he will use it against you occasionally, at least until he is bored of your reaction or you ask him to stop.

But he doesn’t want to hurt you, emotionally or physically. If it’s a genuine fear he’d never use it against you. And he’d personally end anyone who did.

#obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #asmodeus obey me #satan obey me #beelzebub obey me #obey me belphie #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmo x mc #beel x mc #belphie x mc

[deathbyjoong]

ATEEZ Honeymoon HCs

Summary: I wrote a few thousand words on what I thought a honeymoon would be like with each member of ATEEZ. I hope you all enjoy ✨

Many many thanks to @bfyunho​ for beta-ing and generally being my favorite person 💕

Warnings: fluff and smut. 18+ ONLY!

Seonghwa

Y’all already KNOW that a honeymoon with Seonghwa is just gonna be two weeks of him exercising his duality

Constant love-making? Absolutely. But also! Lots of interesting things to do and many opportunities to make memories

Where’s he gonna do that? A large resort suite all to yourselves in Mediterranean ItalyIt’s warm, sensual, fun, perfect--everything you ever wanted

Days spent wandering the town, swimming, finding museums and restaurants

Seonghwa insists on taking selfies at every single location--he wants to know every single one of these moments long after his memory has failed him

Sunbathing on a private sailboat on the Amalfi Coast, soaking in the vitamin D 

The ship’s captain finds a beautiful, unoccupied spot in a shallow cove, and drops anchor

He then heads into the cabin of the boat to give you and your husband some privacy

Seonghwa sits on a lounge chair behind you, rubbing sunscreen on your shoulders

He’s letting his hands move just as slowly and sensually across your skin as he wants, taking his time in listening to your breath hitch in your throat

Eventually ducking his head down to press his lips to a spot on your neck he hasn’t covered yet, while his thumbs still rub circles on your shoulders

Giving all his attention to that one area, biting lightly then sucking the skin to soothe it

You lean your head back, giving him all the access he could want, and a soft sigh escapes your parted lips

His hair tickles your shoulder, but Seonghwa doesn’t linger long before he’s turning you to face him so he can kiss you properly

He’s got the ties of your swimsuit undone in seconds, and you throw your legs over Seonghwa’s hips as soon as it’s off

You grind yourself on him, abusing his swim shorts in your pursuit of a little friction

Hwa grips you by the waist, firmly but not enough to hurt. Just enough to get you close--enough to help you rise and fall on him

Something occurs to you, and you break the kiss to breathlessly murmur in his ear

“You need sunscreen, too. You’re gonna burn.”

Hwa chuckles, dangerously low, flashing his teeth as he reaches down with one hand and picks up the bottle he’d set on the deck

“My wife is so considerate,” he coos, handing it to you

You take it, rolling your eyes. But Seonghwa’s arms tighten around you once more, and you’re brought close to the tent in his shorts again

“Will you put some on me too, then?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes that are completely betrayed by his pupils, blown wide

You squeeze some of the lotion into your hands and let the bottle fall down as you spread it over his shoulders

You’re consumed by his kiss again, gripping his shoulders, arms, neck, wherever you can reach

His skin rubs slick against yours because of the sunscreen, and all you can taste is the salt on Seonghwa’s lips as he does away with his shorts and finally pushes into you

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes of soft moans, grinding, and his mouth against your neck for you to come, head thrown back and facing the sun

Your husband isn’t long after, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder as he loses himself in you

When you’ve come down from your high, Seonghwa stands slowly and pulls you with him

“Let’s go swimming.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon wading in the shallow waters of the cove, soaking in the sun and kicking up the white sand with your toes

When the sun starts to slide down the sky, setting everything aglow with orange and gold, Seonghwa stands behind you and holds his lips to the back of your head

His arms are around you, and your joined form sways gently with the waves until the sun falls away completely

When you get back to the resort, you both shower off and Seonghwa presents you with a beautiful dress to wear to dinner

He wines and dines you every single night, even making an effort to learn some Italian to more easily place your orders and interact with locals

And each night, he lifts his glass and toasts, “To you, Mrs. Park.”

Hongjoong

It took exactly zero convincing for you to get Hongjoong to agree to Paris

He loved the idea right away, because it’s a city known for its art and fashion

You reserve a penthouse room in the heart of Paris, with floor to ceiling windows and sheer white curtains

The two of you arrive in Paris decked out in the most impeccable airport fashion, ready to paint the city red

Unfortunately, the jet lag hits you both a little harder than expected

So you spend the rest of the first day sleeping and eating in bed, to the backdrop of sultry French soul music playing over the radio

The next morning, you wake up just as the sun is beginning to peek over the rooftops

It sends gold rays through the blue light of the morning

You slept with the windows cracked, and the soft breeze blows through the curtains

He’s sleeping next to you, and you curl up against him, perfectly content to get a few more minutes of sleep

His t-shirt smells like him--like home-- and you smile to yourself

But something less wholesome is going on his head

Hongjoong’s eyebrows tilt and his lips part as he whimpers in his sleep

It’s an expression you recognize, although he’s only ever made it while he’s very much awake

Usually as you take him, nails grazing down his stomach, watching his head fall back against the pillows

You have to wonder if that’s what he’s dreaming about, but you’re not about to sit by and let the dream version of you have all the fun

Throwing a leg over his hips, you rest your hands on Joong’s chest and slowly kiss his neck

He moans softly, eyes opening as he wakes

His hands find your hips, pulling you against the growing hardness in his sweatpants, and there’s a sheepish smirk on his face

“Sounded like a good dream,” you whisper against his lips

Hongjoong smiles in the dim light, his eyes flicking to your mouth

“It was,” he replies

His hand is creeping up your back, fingers purposely snagging on your t-shirt

“But nothing compared to this, and nothing compared to you,” he says, and kisses you firmly

You’re not usually one for morning sex, but this lazy love is exquisite in its own way

It’s all slow touches and kisses that are soft but not lacking in passion

Hongjoong shifts to be on top of you and your noses bump, causing both of you to giggle a bit

Joong hides his face in your neck, but takes the opportunity to place a few kisses there

The pair of you take your time in climbing the mountain, but you reach the peak at the same time, hands clasped and legs tangled

You tilt your head a little to watch his face as he comes because the sight of him, and the sounds he’s making, are nothing short of gorgeous

Following an equally slow comedown, you shower off together and clamber back into bed for another couple hours of sleep

When you’re both a bit more rested, you set out on foot to explore the city

Munching on croissants with Hongjoong at an outdoor cafe, and sipping espressos before setting off again

You stop at a small flower stand, and Joong buys you a handful of roses

As you walk on, he has his hands in his pockets, and you loop your arm through his

The content smile playing on his lips gives you a high, and you bask in the moment

The following day, you drive to the Musee du Louvre, and stay until closing time

Joong looks at the art, and you look at him, admiring your own masterpiece

You’re thankful you ended up here because it gives you a perfect, constant view of his profile, from his starry eyes to the tip of his nose to his lovely mouth

He catches you staring at him, and blushes while trying to suppress a smile

You do another day trip to the palace and gardens at Versailles, holding hands as you stroll through the ornate, golden halls and endless paths adorned by flowers

And, of course, it’s not a trip to Paris, or a trip with Hongjoong, if there isn’t shopping for clothes at some point

You pick outfits out for each other in the city’s best boutiques de vetements, from sleek luxury retailers to some of the more underrated shops in the art district

The two of you end up having to buy another suitcase for all the clothes you bring back, but this turn of events is shocking to no one

It’s the most fun you could have on a vacation, and your only consolation for having to go home at the end of the week is getting to start the best adventure of all

Being married to your best friend

Yunho

You’ve always wanted to visit Austria

What better occasion than your honeymoon to spend a week in Salzburg?

It’s all wonderful-- the music, scenery, history, and dancing!

It’s a series of beautiful moments from the very start of your trip

You and Yunho watch Harry Potter together on the plane there, sharing earbuds and mouthing the spells together

At one point, Yunho moves the armrest so the two of you can comfortably hold hands

You doze off together, heads resting against each other, and are only awoken by the captain announcing that you’ve landed

You were worried about jet lag, but your Energizer bunny husband has an abundance of contagious excitement

You drop your bags at the hotel, change clothes, and immediately set off on your first adventure

It’s a sunny, breezy day and the sweet aroma of flowers on balconies is everywhere

You’re strolling hand in hand down a cobblestone road in the historic district of the town when you and Yunho hear the music at the same time

You’re drawn like magnets to the sound of a small band playing on the sidewalk

Yunho pulls you in for a dance, just like you knew he would, one grasping yours and the other pulling you close by the waist

As he swings you in circles, you think to yourself, this is why you married him

His carefree nature, spontaneity, and the joy his spirit radiates

And the laughter in your ears that’s just as much music as the instruments being played on the corner of the street

Though you don’t know the steps, and you’re pretty sure Yunho is making them up on the spot, you never once stumble over each other

He ends the dance by twirling you around, tickled pink at how much fun you’re both having

Next, you find a little outdoor cafe, and insist on feeding him yourself

Yunho is blushing and acting like he thinks it’s ridiculous, but when you finally give up, he picks up the fork and hands it back to you with a sheepish smile

You giggle and scoop up a piece of the chocolate cake you’re sharing, watching his cheeks turn pink as he accepts it

By the time the cake is finished, you’ve got a bit of chocolate icing on the corner of your mouth

Instead of just pointing it out to you, Yunho becomes Yunhoe

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he reaches across the little table and swipes his thumb across your lip

You thought he was just being cute, until he brings his hand back to his mouth and sucks the icing off his thumb

As you watch with a smirk, Yunho gives you a look that makes it clear he’s doing the math in his head of how quickly you can get back to the hotel room

He throws a handful of Euros on the table (more than the bill would’ve been) and grabs your hand

Twenty minutes later, you stumble backwards out of the elevator, arms thrown around Yunho’s shoulders

His mouth is hot over yours, and you have to laugh at yourself for not even making it one day before jumping each other

But hey-- what are honeymoons for, right?

He breaks your kiss only to swipe the key card at the room door, but his lips are right back on yours as soon as he can

Yunho picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and blindly pushes the door open behind you

You’re not sure whose idea it was, or if either of you even thought about it, but you end up bent over the balcony railing, your lower half shielded from pedestrians below only by flower boxes

Yunho’s got one hand around your waist, and the other hand braced on the railing

He’s groaning softly between kisses against the side of your neck, thrusting into you from behind

At one point his hand drifts from your waist to press into your clit, causing your head to fall back against his shoulder

Yunho puts a hand over your mouth to stifle the moans that you can’t keep in

You come shortly after with a muffled cry into his palm, and Yunho bites into your shoulder as gently as he can to muffle his own noise when he comes a moment later

You take a few moments to come down before Yunho walks you inside to clean off

You collapse onto the bed together for a much-needed nap, dozing off peacefully in your favorite place in the world-- your husband’s arms

Yeosang

You had to reason with Yeosang just a little to get him to agree to go to Greece for your honeymoon

But once he realized why you picked it out of all places, he came around

It offers food, sunshine, fresh air, and many adventures in a place made for exploring

Getting excited on the plane ride in, giggling with each other and looking out the window at the islands like a couple of excited kids

You go searching for the best views in Santorini, climbing through the endless maze of steps between white and blue buildings

So many selfies--Yeosang smiling shyly with his cheek pressed to the side of your head

After a while, he really starts to relax and have fun, and his smiles in your pictures get wider and wider

One day is devoted entirely to walking through the market in town, buying random food items just because they smell good and holding them out for the other to try

At one point Yeosang slips away while you’re not paying attention

Trying not to panic, you look around, feeling like a child who’s lost their mom at a supermarket

Just as you’re starting to lose your breath, Yeosang catches you by the waist

You knew it was him just by his touch, but you still look to his face for the reassurance that he’s there

There’s a glint in his eye that implies he’s amused by your concern at losing him, but he tells you it’s okay, and shows you where he went:

A bright bouquet of flowers no doubt native to the island is bursting from his hands in marvelous yellows, pinks, and whites

You recognize Asphodels, but the rest are beautiful, nameless mysteries

They almost get crushed between your bodies as you throw your arms around Sangie and kiss him in full public view

No one seems to mind it though-- it appears as though love is in the air on this day, carried by the light sea breeze and lit by the sun

Yeosang smiles into the kiss before reminding you to be careful of your flowers

You take them from him with a grin, but when you’re on your way home, the smile turns into a pout

“Sang?” “Yeah?” “My feet hurt.”

Yeosang fakes a dramatic sigh, but it’s not another second before he’s crouching in front of you, holding his arms out behind him

You gleefully climb on, and Yeosang carries you the rest of the short walk to your AirBnB

He’ll never say it out loud, but his favorite thing in the world is feeling your arms around his shoulders

Just like on your wedding day, just like now, just like he wants every day for the rest of his life

Another day, the two of you are hiking through some of the more rural parts of Santorini, and happen upon a beautiful wild olive grove near a cliff face

You come back the next morning with a blanket and some snacks, and spend the entire day in the shade

Admiring him as you sit by the seaside, because he looks so stunning among the greens and blues and yellows

Again--SO. MANY. SELFIES

It’s not your fault he looks that good

Maybe he looks a little too good

Maybe you make a mess of your picnic blanket after grabbing your husband and pulling him on top of you

Once Yeosang looks around and ascertains that there’s absolutely no one around, he’s all game

His hands are bunching the skirt up around your hips, his mouth greedy and searching your neck for any spot that’ll make you whimper when he sucks into it

Your spot in paradise turns into rapture as his fingers meet your core, massaging you until you start to dig your nails into his shoulder

You’ve got one hand on his bicep and the other in his hair when he takes you in one smooth motion, finding his rhythm like he never dropped it in the first place

You come apart beneath him, and beneath the softly rustling leaves of the olive trees

The two of you fall asleep shortly after, completely relaxed in each other’s arms

Holding hands on your walks through the town at night, underneath the twinkle lights

You’ve married your best friend, and this is the best beginning to your lives together that you could ever imagine

Happiness settles around you like a light blanket, and you hope it stays forever

San

Don’t ask me why, but a glass igloo hotel in Iceland seems perfect

It’s cozy but not too small, and it’s the picture of quiet luxury

The glass walls and ceiling give you a beautiful view of the wide Icelandic sky, which is clear as crystal after a fresh snowfall

There’s a fireplace against one wall, with a fuzzy rug in front of it and many, many pillows

You spend the first evening snuggled up there with San, sipping hot chocolate and talking about every random thing you can think of

He keeps finding reasons to say “my wife”, getting all giggly every time he does

After you fall asleep, another storm rolls through, dropping an extra foot of powdery snow all around you

You and San are oblivious, however, because you’re both fast asleep under several layers of blankets

Safe and warm in your little nest, you nuzzle your face into San’s neck, and he tightens his arms around you in his sleep

Because being with you, and keeping you close, comes as naturally to him as breathing

When you wake up, you see the wonderland outside and it’s not even a discussion-- you and Sannie are outside as fast as you can put on your clothes

You play in the snow together, and his adorable laugh echoes around you every time he beans you with a snowball

Chasing each other around like little kids, giggling and kicking up the snow

San catches you by the waist and spins you around, making sure to never drop you

You wrestle around a bit but eventually end up making snow angels together

When you stand up to admire your outlines in the snow, San pulls you close and presses his face into your hair

Putting an arm around his waist, you brush some of the snow off his jacket

He catches your hand, and holds it to his chest, where you can feel his heart pounding

“Never forget that this beats for you, okay?”

You almost cry, but opt to pull San to you and press kisses all over his face instead

He just giggles and accepts every single peck on his quickly-heating cheeks

Later that day, you make your way to the hot springs nearby, running as fast as you can to the water’s edge after dropping your coats

It’s a rush to the senses, slipping into the hot spring and away from the frigid air

San is behind you, gripping your hand tightly

You find a ledge that’s been carved into the rock underwater, and make yourselves comfortable on it

San leans back, eyes closed, and you can see the puffs of his breath coming slower and slower as he fully relaxes

You lean back against his arm, enjoying the feeling of his skin and the soft water pooling around you

You end up throwing your legs over his thighs and curling into his side

His arm goes around your shoulders, and you feel every bit of worry leave your body

You’re heavy with relaxation, but you feel lighter than ever

That evening, you’re watching a movie and sipping spiked hot chocolate when a flash of green lights up the igloo

Gasping, you stand up to stare skywards, mouth open

San turns off the movie and moves next to you, taking your hand and squeezing it lightly

You watch the Northern Lights in silence as they ripple across the sky in vivid purples, blues, and greens

A few minutes into the show, you glance over at San to see his eyes glittering with all the colors

He looks so beautiful, holding entire galaxies, and he doesn’t even realize it

When the lights begin to fade down, you reach over and pull San to you

He knew what you wanted from the first millisecond of touch

He responds in kind, tugging you as close to him as he can and making quick work of both your shirts

Chests pressed together and breathing ragged, you let yourselves fall back onto the rug

Arms and legs tangle as you make love beneath the glass ceiling, and the auroras begin to flicker again, making everything that much more beautiful

Falling asleep in each others’ arms, not only for the warmth, but because you love him more than anything in the world

Mingi

Madagascar!

It’s a lesser known honeymoon destination, with fewer people than some of the more popular spots in Europe or the Caribbean

You have your own bungalow on the beach, with room service twice a day and spa services as well

Getting massages and face masks with Mingi? Yes. Doing so in matching fluffy white robes? Double yes.

Going on a safari adventure to see the lemurs!

You and Mingi pile into the backseat of an open-air Jeep and a driver takes you around one of the wildlife refuges

You two have the time of your lives looking at all the animals, grabbing each other and pointing when you see a new one

He’s smiling so big the entire time, and his happiness is contagious

You both sleep in late every day just because you can--no alarms, just birds twittering and sunlight filtering through the blinds

Waking up in each other’s arms, nestled under a layer of soft blankets

All you have to do is open your eyes, and Mingi is right there, sleeping soundly with the corners of his mouth turned up

His hair is tousled and he looks so peaceful

That is, until you try to get up to make breakfast, and he refuses to let you get out of bed

He doesn’t even wake up; just throws one arm around you and hugs you tight, humming in his sleep with a little pout on his lips

You can’t help but smile, and relent to his cute charm

An hour or so later, when both of you wake up, Mingi kisses you all over your face

It’s the best way to say “good morning” in his opinion, and you’re pretty sure he’s right

Another day, you do a guided hike through Amber Mountain National Park

There are even more lemurs, and many other animals

The air is so clean you can’t even believe it, and peace seeps into you with each step further into the lush, green wilderness

You stop to swim in an emerald pool at the foot of a small waterfall, and your guide steps away to give you a moment of privacy

You get close to Mingi, resting your hands on his shoulders and pressing your forehead to his

The water flows softly around you, but Mingi is your rock--steadfast and comfortable to you always

He kisses you sweetly, and you feel any tension he might have had leaving his body with each deep inhale

Your favorite moment from the trip, however, has to be your journey to the Avenue of the Baobabs

The Baobab trees have long been a legendary symbol of the African wilds, but seeing them up close in reality is its own level of breathtaking

Nothing could have prepared you for just how massive the Baobabs are, towering above the horizon as you approach in your tour Jeep

You’re dropped off at the beginning of the path that winds through hundreds of the giant trees, and told to meet back there in a couple of hours

Mingi pulls you down the trail excitedly, telling you that if he had to be a tree, he would be one of these

You snap your favorite photo ever that afternoon

It’s a picture of Mingi, grinning widely, hugging a Baobab (or trying to, since that particular tree had a diameter of about fifteen feet)

He looks so happy, almost childlike, and the joy just radiates off of him

That picture gets framed the second you return from your trip, and it’s also the lockscreen on your phone

Although your days are spent visiting every destination on the island, your evenings are a much-needed quiet time to recharge

You and Mingi snuggle up for a movie some nights, and other nights you drink on the porch and listen to the sounds of the jungle

Sometimes you get distracted from the movie or the scenery, and kiss Mingi a whole bunch instead

He’s more than willing to pull you close, and even carry you off, when you whisper something sinful in his ear

But no matter what you get up to, his love and sweetness are in every touch

Whether you’re out and about, or enjoying a quiet moment to yourselves, his arm is around you always, and you never have to ask twice for extra kisses

Wooyoung

A beach resort in Turks and Caicos seems like the perfect place to go with Wooyoung

Hear me out-- it’s got music and tourists that are just as loud as he is

Crystal clear, bright blue waters greet you as the two of you hitch a ride from the airport

All the windows in the cab are down, because it’s sunny and just the right kind of warm

Salty sea air fills your lungs and the wind breezes through your hair

You’re given complementary rum punch when you check in, and it’s the perfect start to your trip

You and Wooyoung drop your bags off at the room and immediately change into your swimsuits

The resort backs right up to the beach, so you run out in your sandals, hand in hand as you make a beeline toward the water

The sand is hot beneath your feet, but you don’t even notice because you’re so excited and the water! is so! blue!

You crash into the surf seconds later, the warm water swirling around your legs

You wade through the water until you’re chest deep, then kick up your feet and float on your back

There are no breakers, nor boats allowed, in the calm waters of the bay, so you float in the soft blue for a little bit, content to just let the tide wash you back to shore in whatever timeline it sees fit

You reach out at the line between sea and sky, meeting the skin of Wooyoung’s arm

He’s still standing, staring in wonder at the paradise around you, but he takes your hand without thinking

He’s your anchor, letting you float without drifting away

You spend the next several hours going back and forth between the sea and the sand, finding beach chairs to lounge on while you lay in the sun

As the sun starts to fall in the sky, you decide to head back to the room to shower off and get dressed for a fancy dinner

You’re minding your business, rinsing the shampoo out of your hair, when the bathroom door opens and Wooyoung pokes his face inside

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. It’ll save water,” you respond, smiling

Woo sheds his swimshorts and joins you, slipping in as fast as he can to keep the steam inside the glass door of the shower

You massage shampoo into his hair, enjoying his little hums of appreciation

He rinses it out while you wash your body, and you stand behind him as he washes off too

His back is to you and you openly stare at the water running down his back

You feel heavy, relaxed, from spending all day in the sun, but there’s one thing that could make this afternoon even better

Once all the soap is off of him, you step forward and kiss the spot between his shoulder blades

Never a stranger to your unspoken wishes, Wooyoung leans his head back as you kiss your way up to his shoulder

When you can’t reach any more, he turns and kisses you, hard

He’s got one hand snaked around your waist and the other holding your face to his

Your arms are around his shoulders in a heartbeat, and he backs you against the tile

It’s cold, but the warm water is still running between your bodies, giving you shivers

Wooyoung breaks the kiss only to kneel in front of you, throwing your leg over his shoulder

He brings you to the edge with his mouth, then stands again, keeping your leg hitched over his hip

When he fucks you, you’re worried that people are going to see the scratches on his shoulders the next day at the beach

But eventually, you can’t be bothered to think about it, and you lose yourself in his touch instead

You come apart shortly after, chests heaving and skin pressed to wet skin

A little while later, you’re toasting one another over dinner

The restaurant offers many amazing local delicacies, and Wooyoung insists on hand-feeding you at least half of them throughout your trip

There’s live music every night at the resort’s restaurant & bar, and Wooyoung doesn’t think twice about pulling you with him to the dancefloor

You’re not overly confident in your dancing skills, but Woo pulls you close and shows you some simple steps as other couples join around you

After a couple of songs, you’re able to get into the groove of the funky music that the island loves so much

Wooyoung’s smile is all you need to know you’re moving the right way, and you dance to a few more songs before going back to the bar counter for more fruity drinks

The two of you continue to get tipsy, then walk to the beach and make out in the sand like a couple of teenagers

You’re both giggling between kisses, digging your toes into the sand, and existing purely in the moment

Everything is sweet, from the taste of pineapple on his tongue to the heady aroma of plumeria blooms in the trees

Every day is a beach day in this place. You’ve never had this much fun, splashing and playing in the water, laughing nonstop

One afternoon, Wooyoung is passed out on a beach chair under an umbrella, lulled to sleep by the day’s warmth and the sounds of the ocean

After taking a picture of him to giggle at later, you get an idea

The air is fragrant with the sweet smell of the thousands of flowering bushes that are planted throughout the resort’s grounds

Nobody would miss a few of those flowers, would they? If you were to, say, pluck some and decorate your husband with them?

You slip away from the chairs and your sleeping Woo to gather a few blooms from the nearest row of landscaping, returning with sweet-smelling handfuls of them

You giggle to yourself, putting the flowers all around Wooyoung’s head like a little halo of yellows, whites, and pinks

He doesn’t even notice them until he wakes up, gets back in the water, and sees a bunch of petals in the surf around him

You laugh and take photos of all of it

Being on a catamaran at sunset, sitting side by side with your head on his shoulder

The sky is painted in vivid oranges and reds, and Woo’s hand rests on your thigh, his breathing slow and even next to you

The wind is a bit cool on your wet skin, but the sun still delivers warmth, and you inhale the smell of saltwater on Wooyoung’s skin

He turns his face slightly to kiss the top of your head, and you smile knowing that his love for you comes without him even having to think about it

As the boat smoothly cuts through the water, you feel completely at peace

You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and it’s hard to think about your life turning out any other way than this moment, with this man

Jongho

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Incredible local food, soccer matches, constant music, breathtaking city scenery--it’s a neotropical dream

First of all, Jongho is amazing to travel with

Being the eldest of his family, he’s well-prepared with a bag full of snacks, meds, toiletries, headphones, and neck pillows for both of you

He looks so cute on the flight, snuggled up in his complimentary blanket and neck pillow

He’s pouting in his sleep and you take several photos just because

When you get to the hotel room, he bravely offers to carry your luggage up the stairs for you

But he makes you wait at the bottom of the stairs so that he can come back and scoop you into his arms

Because he insists on carrying you bridal-style at every opportunity, starting with your arrival to the room

It’s a suite on the second floor, with its own balcony overlooking the main walkway below

You can look out over shops and restaurants and bars, all the nightlife in one place

You change out of your airport clothes, then venture out to grab some drinks and go shopping-- the boys had bullied Jongho into promising that he’d bring back gifts

The two of you are buzzing by the time night falls, but your feet are sore from walking and you’re exhausted from the flight

So you grab some food to-go from one of the restaurants and take it back to the room

You chow through dinner with the balcony doors open, allowing the music and chatter of the streets to carry in on the soft, warm breeze

Going into food comas immediately after eating, you and Jongho pass out on top of the covers, facing each other with hands clasped in the middle

You wake up to brilliant sunlight and Jongho’s arm thrown over you

He’s your life-size teddy bear, and you snuggle closer to him for warmth and comfort

When you both get up and around, you surprise Jongho with tickets to this year’s Superclasico-- only the biggest soccer match in Buenos Aires!

Jongho tries to play it cool, but you can tell he’s absolutely giddy at getting to attend a sports game while he’s here

He loves soccer, after all, and he can’t stop smiling the entire way to the stadium

He practically drags you by the hand to your seats, which are so close to the field that you can hear the footballers yelling to each other

Jongho doesn’t sit down a single time during the game, shouting excitedly in Korean even though he doesn’t know anything about these teams or who to root for

He’s just glad to be there, and it’s an absolutely fantastic match

On your short walk home, he’s got so much energy from being amped up by the game that he stops you on the sidewalk and tells you to get on his back

You blush profusely, but who are you to say no? Besides, you love seeing him be this carefree

The two of you stick out like a sore thumb in the streets of Argentina since you’re giggling like crazy and he’s singing to you in a language that definitely isn’t local

You indulge in some amazing street food before going back to the hotel and getting ready for the evening

He got tickets to a theater show, and it gives you an opportunity to get all dressed up

Your husband looks so handsome in his casual suit, and when you walk out in your dress, he’s holding roses

The show is wonderful, and you’re both part of the standing ovation it receives

You throw off your shoes when you get home, but there’s so much excitement outside that the night is hardly over

Standing on your balcony, listening to singing in the streets and bars below, with Jongho’s arms around you from behind

This man clearly did his research before coming here, because he actually knows some of the songs in Spanish and you bet your ass he serenades you as musicians pass by below

There are fireworks some nights for no apparent reason other than that the city exists to be a technicolor celebration of life

There is no better place to start this marriage, and no better person to be married to

#ateez #ateez headcanons #ateez fic #ateez hcs #ateez fluff #ateez smut #seonghwa #hongjoong #yeosang #yunho #mingi #san #jongho #wooyoung #kpop #Kpop hcs #fic #writing #my writing

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Everybody Knows It

Pairing: Geralt x original female character, Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): sex work, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, a whole lot of smut Rating: explicit

Summary:  When Geralt visits a brothel, he brings Jaskier along to keep him out of trouble, but it ends up being far more of a prize than a punishment.

For @writinglizards​. Thank you for pushing me to finally write one of these, I’ve been wanting to for months

It's not that Jaskier's been causing more problems lately, per se, but trouble does seem to find him everywhere these days. It started with an angry husband back in Hagge (the wife he had slept with months prior, but Geralt hardly cared to listen). Then there was the innkeeper whose son Jaskier had slipped away with one night, much to his father's displeasure. Then a blacksmith, a herbalist, a ferrier. All still angry about things that took place days ago or longer. And now on top of all of that, Geralt is angry with him. Angry enough to not let him out of his sight, but also not angry enough to keep him away from the brothel, which seems odd. It's not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes he will be accompanying Geralt and he struggles to see how this is a punishment.

The worker who greets them is stunning, as beautiful as any queen or princess Jaskier has ever known with long red hair flowing down to her waist. She takes them to a room tucked away in the corner and lets them in first, slapping Geralt's ass as he passes. The two of them are very familiar and Jaskier assumes they've seen each other before. He knows it's not easy for Geralt to find a brothel that will take him so once he does find one, and a woman he likes, he must stick to that. Which also explains why he's so grouchy, because it's been months since they've been back in Vizima.

The girl - Katja - guides Jaskier back into a chair at the back of the room and he's immediately turned on by her presence. She's forceful with only the lightest touch and he would pay a hell of a lot to spend the night with her. But he sits where he's put, in perfect view of the bed. He supposes the room is set up that way on purpose, so those who only like to watch can be present without having to participate, but he doesn't know how he's going to survive.

"Are you okay being involved?" she asks and Jaskier's mouth goes dry. For a man whose words are his livelihood, he's certainly short on them today. "Geralt likes being watched and he likes being reminded of it. Sometimes I have another girl come in, but if you're okay with it...?" She lets the sentence trail off and Jaskier nods. She chuckles softly.

"Anything you're not okay with? Touching? Kissing?"

"Anything," he manages, "for Geralt, nothing's too much." She smiles peculiarly at him. It's the same kind of smile he's seen on Eskel or, slightly more irritably, on Lambert which… doesn't make sense.

"And with me?"

"Anything." Katja's smile morphs into one of amused pleasure and she tips forward, bracing herself on his thighs. Her breasts hang in front of his face and he wants to touch, wants to lean forward and kiss her soft skin, but he holds back. They're here for Geralt.

"You'll get your turn," she says sweetly, "I'm not going to leave you wanting." She dips forward, catching his lips in a firm kiss before pulling away.

Katja then turns her attention to Geralt, crossing the room to press up close, and running her hands up his chest. From where he sits, Jaskier can see the way Geralt's eyes widen a little, the way he swallows hard and drops his gaze to meet her eyes. She's only a little shorter, but the fact that she looks up to him and Geralt still submits wholly without being told is something Jaskier didn't need to know. His cock stirs in his trousers and he grips his thighs, shifting to lean back in his seat.

"It's been a while," she hums and Jaskier doesn't hear Geralt's response, but he sees the way his eyelids flutter as she runs her hand down his chest.

Without speaking, Katja turns Geralt around and guides him to the bed, pushing him back until his knees hit the frame. Jaskier watches in wonder as Geralt moves fluidly under her touch, not even a note of hesitation as she presses on his chest and he drops to sit on the edge of the bed. Up until now, Jaskier could never imagine Geralt letting anyone have that kind of power over him, but here's a sex worker from Vizima just smiling prettily at him and pushing him around like some sort of doll. And fuck if that isn't a little hot.

She spreads Geralt's knees apart, pressing down on them as she pushes between and then she's dropping to her knees, hands slipping down the backs of Geralt's calves. He's still fully dressed, but it doesn't seem to bother her any; clearly, Katja knows what she's doing. She reaches up, stroking Geralt through his trousers and even from here, Jaskier can see that he's hard, his cock pushing up obscenely against the rough material. He's always tried to avoid looking directly at Geralt's cock out of respect when they're naked around each other, but he knew he was big and now he can't keep his eyes off of him. Even Katja in her silk and lace - and very little of it - can't keep him from biting his lip at the sight of Geralt's hard prick.

"Oh," she breathers, tipping her head back to look up at Geralt, "you are happy to see me."

"Always," Geralt says and it sends a shiver up Jaskier's spine. She does know what he wants. They've done this before.

"Mm, you spoil me, Geralt." She squeezes him through his trousers and Jaskier can see the way Geralt's expression pinches up, the way his fingers curve a little tighter around the sheets.

He leans back on his hands, watching Katja work and the arousal is already clear in his face. Jaskier hadn't noticed it earlier, so either Geralt really likes her or he's been in need for a while now. The latter causes mixed feelings and Jaskier isn't sure how to deal with them, so he ignores them, pushes them aside and focuses on Katja's hand, pressing more firmly down on Geralt's cock.

She lingers there for some time, working him up to full hardness until his trousers are pulled taut around his impressive erection and Jaskier can barely breathe for the thought of seeing it naked. Then, slowly, she rises to her feet, pressing her hips back in a way that makes Jaskier's cock twitch against his thigh. she runs her hands over Geralt's thighs, right up to his ships and leans in over him.

"Better get you out of these," she says, "don't want you making too much of a mess just yet."

And fuck, the mental image that leaves. Jaskier has been more than respectful, he thinks, considering the discrepancy in times Geralt has barged in on him naked and vice versa, but he has, on occasion, imagined what Geralt would be like when he gets worked up. He puts on a strong face, but Jaskier has always imagined him more docile in bed, giving but needy and the thought of him wet and leaking is too fucking much.

Heat prickles at the back of his neck and Jaskier has to squeeze his leg again to keep from touching himself. He wants to; the thought of getting off watching Geralt fuck someone is unbelievably tempting, but he knows he shouldn't. He hasn't been invited here, he's been brought along only to keep him out of trouble. And getting his cock out when he shouldn't is usually what gets him in trouble.

But he would so happily climb up there, even just to sit behind Geralt and hold him while Katja undresses him. She's got his trousers unbuttoned now, teasing the head of Geralt's cock where it pokes between the flaps. He's still covered by his smalls and Jaskier nearly groans when he catches a glimpse of the dark spot where his cock presses out. He is wet. Fuck.

Katja leans forward, pressing her mouth to the fabric and kissing the covered head. Geralt whines under her and Jaskier can see how he holds his hips down, keeps himself from bucking up against her mouth. He can't imagine having that kind of control over a man like Geralt, and without even having to say a word, he just knows. She doesn't torment him for long, though, tugging his smalls down with his trousers and Jaskier can't focus on anything but Geralt's cock as it bounces free, bobbing between his body and the mattress.

He bites down on his bottom lip and tries to tear his gaze away, but Geralt is huge and hard and Jaskier would almost risk the consequences to cross the room and get his mouth on him right now. But Katja beats him to it. She ducks her head and Jaskier can't see past Geralt's thigh - not that the view is one to complain about - but whatever she's doing, Geralt is thoroughly enjoying.

His fingers clench in the sheets and his eyes drop shut and he's so fucking sexy it's unreal. Jaskier quickly shucks off his doublet, dropping it to the floor because it's much too hot for it now. He watches Geralt's face, watches the little shifts in his expression as Katja slips from the base up to the head, suckling just at the very tip until Geraly is moaning outright, any hesitation long forgotten. He sounds beautiful like this, so lost in pleasure already that he's either forgotten about Jaskier or just doesn't care anymore. The latter, he suspects, because Geralt is always aware of his surroundings.

Katja gets a hand around him, stroking firmly but slowly, though she refuses to take any more of him into her mouth. Initially, Jaskier thinks it's because she's unable to - and who could blame her? - but he realizes, as she teases sinking lower, that she wants Geralt to ask for it.

Something about it shoots hot and true, straight through Jaskier because Geralt doesn't ask for things for himself. He's practically incapable of it. But he moans loudly and Katja squeezes him hard and he drops his chin to his chest with a mumbled please.

"Please what?"

"Suck me," he moans, "fuck, Kat, please."

"Mm, you are hard up aren't you? You need it that badly?"

"Yes, fuck."

"How badly."

"Fuck," Geralt groans again, "so badly. 'S been too long."

"How long? When was the last time you touched yourself?"

For the briefest moment, Geralt's eyes flick over to Jaskier and Jaskier feels like he can't breathe. Not forgotten about, then.

"Couple weeks ago."

"That is a long time. Why don't you tell me about it?" Geralt groans and Katja hums in amusement. "Tell me about touching yourself and I'll let you come in my mouth."

There's a strangled moan that follows, but Jaskier is unsure if it comes from him or from Geralt. It goes unacknowledged, but Geralt shifts uncomfortably.

"We were in Cintra, visiting a friend."

"You and Jaskier?" Katja asks, turning to smile slyly at him. Geralt nods. "Go on."

"Jask was performing, I- I told him I was going to lie down. The business of cities is too much sometimes and I told him I needed to rest but-"

Jaskier holds his breath, afraid to miss a single word. He remembers this, remembers Geralt acting strangely before the banquet, but he never pressed as to what was wrong.

"But?" Katja prompts and Jaskier would die for her.

"I was so fucking horny. I'd been hard half the ride there, thinking about-'' he cuts himself off and switches tracks. "Needed to get off and I wasn't going to find anyone to fuck in Cintra, so I ha to do it myself."

"A shame, my sweet, I would have loved to ride this pretty prick for you. But, you're missing some very important details." She slips her fingers up the length of his cock, pressing the tip of one into the slit and Geralt whines. "What made you so horny that day? What were you thinking about that got you hard?"

"Fucker wouldn't stop playing," Geralt mumbles, so soft that Jaskier nearly misses it over the blood rushing in his ears. "Couldn't stop thinking about his fingers, how they'd feel on my cock or-"

"Go on."

"-inside me."

"Oh, I bet they'd feel delightful, my pet. Continue. How did it feel before you arrived? Bet you were wet, weren't you?" Geralt nods weakly.

"Godsdamn nearly come in my trousers with the saddle pressing against my prick."

"Did you like that? Like the thought of Jaskier right next to you, oblivious to how fucking hard you were because of him? I bet you did, didn't you? You wanted to come." Katja leans up close, pressing against his cock and whispering in his ear. Jaskier is too far to hear what she's saying, but Geralt whimpers at it, hips shaking with the effort to keep them still.

It doesn't matter what she says because Geralt's reaction is enough and Jaskier's already reeling from the confession. He is very good with his hands and if he'd known Geralt wanted a demonstration, he would have been more than happy to oblige. Still would be at any given time.

"Tell me the rest, tell me about getting your hands on your cock and I'll suck it."

"Couldn't wait," he mumbles, "barely got out of the main hall before pulling it out."

"Anyone could have seen you," Katja grins, "Jaskier could have seen you."

"Didn't care. Needed to come so badly."

"Did you think about him while you pleasured yourself?"

"Mm," Geralt admits and Jaskier's mind breaks a little. Geralt thought about him with his hand on his prick. "Hard not to. Could hear him from the other room."

"Oh, and I bet you liked that, didn't you? Tell me Geralt, did you get wet for him? Did you even need slick or did you just jerk off right there in the hall?" Geralt whines again, dropping his head forward and Katja nips at his jaw.

"I did. Couldn't help it."

"Mm, I bet that was a pretty sight to see. A lot of people would be delighted to find you on your knees with your cock in your hand. Bet Jaskier would be delighted to see that, hm?" she turns to him for a moment, a sly smile on her face, and then- "but a promise is a promise-" without another word, Katja drops, taking half of Geralt's cock into her mouth without hesitation.

This time, he does buck forward and Katja doesn't even try to stop him. She lets him fuck into her mouth until she's nearly taken all of him and then stops and presses his hips down. Geralt shudders and she just holds him there as she pulls back, painfully slowly even for Jaskier who is only watching.

His own cock throbs now, precome gathering at the head, but he doesn't dare touch himself. As soon as Geralt is done, he's going to find the first willing person and spend the rest of the night in bed with them. He'd prefer to find someone with a cock he can suck, but he's not picky.

He can feel the need from Geralt's story, knows what it's like to watch someone all day and not be able to touch, to want so fucking badly you can't stand it any longer. The irony that Geralt was thinking the same about him is too much because Jaskier has jerked off in bed more times than he can count, imagining sliding into Geralt's body or climbing onto him to ride that magnificent cock. He aches for it and the more he focuses on Geralt and Katja, the more desperate he becomes.

Which is ridiculous seeing as they've been here maybe twenty minutes, but Jaskier's cock throbs in his trousers and he's not sure he'll make it to the end of this without making a mess of himself. But Katja is so controlled, so assured in all her movements and Geralt already looks like he's about to split apart at the seams, how is he supposed to cope with that? When he watches her sinking further onto Geralt's cock and he's not sure which one of them he wants to switch places with.

Because he'd give anything for the chance to suck Geralt's cock, but the way Katja moves, the way she glances repeatedly up at Geralt with just the tip of his cock between her lips, Jaskier knows he'd be fucking ruined by her. She presses further between Geralt's legs, resting her arms on the bed on either side of him and she presses his fingers into his ass, pulling him forward.

Geralt shudders and Jaskier can see the way his hips twitch before he lets out a stuttered, breathy moan. He stills abruptly, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he rolls his head back. Jaskier realizes abruptly, that he's coming and that's- fuck, that's hot. Jaskier squeezes his thighs together, shifting for any sort of friction on his cock. He whimpers and leans back in his chair, forcing his legs apart and balling his hands into fists.

He wants so badly to touch, even just the faintest press against his cock would be incredible right now. But that's not what he's here for. Across the room, Katja is pulling off Geralt's cock and climbing up into his lap. She hovers just above him, the silk of her panties just a fraction of an inch from Geralt's still-hard cock. And Jaskier doesn't know how he can withstand the temptation because he can barely stand it, just watching.

She rocks her hips as she presses Geralt down against the bed, and Jaskier can no longer see Geralt's face but he can't imagine the frustration. Or maybe it's only because he wants to come to fucking badly. Katja unbuttons his shirt slowly, dragging her fingertips along Geralt's skin as she pushes the shirt up over his head. And when Geralt's fully naked, she drags her fingers down his cheek and Geralt cranes his head up, wrapping his lips around the finger that catches on his mouth.

Katja pulls her finger out, running it along his bottom lip and Jaskier watches, enthralled.

"You want something to do with your mouth?" she asks and Jaskier isn't sure whether it's himself or Geralt that moans in response.

Katja doesn't wait for a more coherent answer before climbing up so she's straddling Geralt's face. She turns, pulling her panties to the side, and lowers herself onto Geralt's mouth. Instantly, his hands come up, gipping around her thighs as she rocks forward with a soft sigh. While Geralt is occupied, she turns her attention back to Jaskier.

"You like watching?" she asks and Jaskier nods. "Good. He likes it, too." She turns her attention from him and slides a hand down Geralt's stomach, teasing the head of his cock with her fingertips. "We have a captive audience, my pet, why don't you show him how good you can be?"

She presses her palm to the underside of Geralt's cock, running it firmly down the length of him until her fingertips press into his sac. Geralt gives a little gasp and she presses harder, moving further to cup his balls. She gives a firm squeeze that has Jaskier pressing his legs together, but Geralt's groan of pleasure is loud enough that Jaskier hears it across the room, muffled as it is, and sees the effects of it on Katja's face. Her soft little moans send a shiver down Jaskier's spine and he can't help but think about what Geralt is doing to elicit those sounds.

Realistically, he knows Geralt has to be good in bed; he doesn't get a lot of sex outside of what he pays for, but the brothels who take him are welcoming and the girls are always delighted to see him again. It's not something he's thought much about before, but now every meeting with a sex worker has been very good and very enthusiastic. Fuck, Geralt must be incredible if sex workers are all but throwing themselves at him.

Jaskier's cock twitches in his trousers and he instinctively presses his palm against it, relieving the ache a little, but increasing his want tenfold. Fuck, if he could just get a little closer he could see, but Katja put him here and he's staying put unless told otherwise.

Geralt's legs spread wider, catching his attention again and Jaskier looks over to find Katja with his balls in her hand, squeezing and rolling them between his fingers. Groans and shifts and his cock jerks where it lies neglected against his stomach. Jaskier wants to touch him, to suck him off while Katja plays with him and he groans softly, squeezing his knees to keep control.

"You like his cock?" Katja asks and Jaskier meets her eyes but can't make his voice work. She dips down, flicking her tongue at the head of Geralt's cock and Jaskier whimpers. She drags her tongue along his skin, slipping under the foreskin and pulling at it gently with her teeth. Geralt's hips jump into the touch and Jaskier is fascinated and overwhelmed by the things he's learning about Geralt tonight.

"You wanna suck it, don't you?" Jaskier whines again and Katja smiles sweetly at him. "Maybe later, darling." She winks at him as she wraps her mouth around Geralt's cockhead and sinks down in one swift motion and it's a miracle that Jaskier doesn't come in his trousers right there and then.

Geralt's reaction is strong. He holds Katja's thighs so tightly Jaskier can see where the skin pales at the pressure and she moans around him, somehow remarkably steady despite her desperate moans still muffled by Geralt's cock in her mouth. Jaskier slumps in his seat, legs spreading wide and he rocks his hips against the fabric of his trousers, desperate for any touch. It's not enough, not that he actually wants to get off like this; he wants to come so fucking badly, but he wants a hand around his prick at least when he does.

But gods if it isn't tempting to just watch them, to jerk off looking at them. They're both so fucking gorgeous Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself and he might actually die if he wound up between the two of them. But fuck, the thought of Geralt's hands on him, tangled in his hair while Jaskier sucks him off- he whines and digs his fingers into the silk of his trousers, forcing his head back to look at the ceiling. He shuts his eyes, focuses his breathing and then-

There's a loud groan and a harsh oh fuck, and Jaskier's eyes snap back to them to find Geralt shaking through a second orgasm. He shakes and shudders, but he doesn't let up where he's still buried in Katja's cunt. Even after she pulls off of his cock, Geralt's still moaning into her, pulling her hips down against him. And it's clear on her face when she looks up at Jaskier, the pure bliss of it, and then just as Jaskier thinks she's about to come, she climbs off of him.

Jaskier is relieved when she slips off the bed, but she pushes Geralt's knees together and when she leans over him, Jaskier can see the slick running down her thighs. He wants to crawl over and lick it up or finish the job Geralt started and make her come on his tongue.

She says something to Geralt that Jaskier doesn't catch, but then Geralt's shifting up the bed and Katja picks up his clothes and drapes them over the headboard. Geralt lies with his head on the pillow and his hands wrapped around each post of the headboard. It's not until Katja produces a length of rope that Jaskier realizes what she's doing and he groans at the implications.

Katja climbs up over Geralt, straddling his face and hovering just above his mouth. Geralt squirms and bites his lip, eyes focused on her cunt, but he doesn't move, doesn't make an attempt to lick or touch because he hasn't been told to. And that's so fucking sexy Jaskier can barely handle it. She gets his wrists tied and slides down his body in much the same way, touching him as little as possible until they settle between his knees, pushing his legs apart.

She squeezes his thighs, rubbing right up to the join of his hips and then pulls one hand away, trailing down below his balls and Jaskier doesn't need to see it to know what she's doing. Geralt whimpers and gasps and for a moment he's tense before settling against the mattress again with a soft sigh. She works into him quickly and Geralt moans and jerks, fingers clenched tightly around the headboard.

"You like that, don't you Geralt? Like having something inside you?"

"Yes," Geralt groans.

"Tell me, Geralt, do you want my cock?"

"Please. I want it- want you to fuck me-"

"Oh, I will, handsome. I'll fuck you so good they'll hear you down the road." Katja leans down, kissing Geralt's cock. He's hard again, dribbling constantly against his hip and Jaskier can practically taste the saltiness of it against his tongue.

But Katja slows down, pressing another finger into him and thrusting slower now. Jaskier watches and whimpers and his cock throbs with need. If Geralt likes having something in his ass so much, Jaskier would be more than happy to assist.

Katja is thorough and Geralt is nearly whimpering before she even acknowledges his cock. She dips down, licking a stripe up the full length of it before ramming into him hard and straightening up again.

"You want to get fucked properly, don't you?" Geralt whimpers but doesn't respond. "Want a nice thick cock up your ass, fucking you hard? How about your friend, hm? You want Jaskier to fuck you? He's got a nice prick, I'd bet." She spares a glance in Jaskier's direction before leaning up over Geralt, fingers still working into him.

"Nice and thick," she hums, nosing under Geralt's jaw. She leans on her elbow, turning his head toward Jaskier. "Can almost see it through his trousers, he's so fucking hard. Look at him, Geralt, don't you want his cock?"

"Yes," Geralt whimpers and Jaskier's head spins. He'd give it to him in an instant, though right now he wouldn't last long enough to fuck him properly.

"I bet, my darling," she leans in, whispering something in Geralt's ear and when she pulls back she's grinning widely. "In the meantime," she continues, "I have an idea."

She slips from the bed, swaying her hips as she crosses the room and Jaskier knows it has to be intentional, no one looks that enticing accidentally. She bends low, showing off her ass and thighs as she digs through a drawer in the dresser and Jaskier bites the inside of his lip to keep from thinking about what he'd like to do to her. How good her thick thighs would feel around his cock, or how her skin would feel under his hands. His cock jerks again and he groans out loud, he's never going to survive this. He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling to gain back a little control over his body. Already, he feels like he's one wrong move away from coming in his trousers and no one has touched him.

But Katja is stunning and Geralt is, well, Geralt and watching him bend to her, soft and docile is something Jaskier had only imagined in his wildest fantasies before. Being able to see him like this for himself is… overwhelming. If he thinks about it too much, it feels like crossing some sort of invisible boundary, like this is pushing them one step closer to something. But thinking about it makes Jaskier hopeful and he knows where he stands with Geralt, even if some of the things he's admitted to tonight came as a surprise.

When he's calm enough to watch again, Katja is sitting between Geralt's thighs again, slicking her hands and stroking him slowly. Geralt is nearly silent, his mouth open in a silent gasp and fingers clenched tightly around the bedpost. He's fucking incredible and Jaskier wants so badly to climb up onto that bed with them and touch him everywhere.

"Ready?" Katja asks and Geralt lets out a needy sound that only vaguely resembles a yes. Katja laughs softly and leans down to hiss his stomach and when she does, Jaskier realizes oil wasn't the only thing she was retrieving from the drawer. She's got a dildo in her hand, thick and long and delicately carved. He groans at the realization that she's going to fuck Geralt with it and his hands tighten where they're still clenched in his trouser legs.

"Shh," she whispers, and Jaskier's eyes snap up to where she's got the toy pressed up against Geralt's ass.

He can't see everything, but he can tell when she breaches him because Geralt's legs spread wider and he rolls his head back against the pillow. Gods, who knew he was so enthusiastic about taking a dick? If Jaskier had known he'd have made his offers more serious. Not that he suspects Geralt would have been amenable. Now though, he's not so sure.

Because Katja pushes into him and Geralt moans so sweetly, unabashedly rocking his hips to get the toy deeper, and Katja just lets him. She makes no attempt to stop him, pushing steadily as Geralt does all the work for her. And Jaskier can't keep his eyes off of them. He's so fucking turned on he can hardly stand it and here's Geralt with a fake dick up his ass after specifically stating he wanted his. And Jaskier is more than willing to give it to him.

His cock jumps as Geralt shudders and Jaskier realizes with a start that he's been staring and now Geralt is staring back at him. A wave of heat rolls up his back and his cock throbs, but he doesn't dare touch himself because he knows with Geralt looking at him like that, any touch is going to set him off. And, in theory, he has a reputation to uphold.

But the thought of jerking off while Geralt watches him is… enticing and he thinks about it far too much. Geralt's eyes pinch shut and he lets out a low whine and Jaskier's eyes slip down his body to where Katja is fucking him in earnest now. She's bent over him, nipping at his stomach and she thrust the toy into him and Jaskier lets out a breathy fuck as Geralt arches right off the bed. She glances over at him and Jaskier just chews his lip when she grins.

"Tell him how it feels, Geralt."

"'S good," he mumbles, "feels so fucking good." Geralt's eyes meet his again and Jaskier can feel the desperation in his stare, can see it in the flutter of his lashes.

"Come like this and I'll fuck you properly," she promises, flicking her tongue at the head of his cock. Geralt groans and rolls his head back again. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

"How badly do you want it?"

"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "so bad, please- I wanna come on your cock."

Jaskier pitches forward in his seat, pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch. He can't take much more of this. Evidently, Katja notices.

"How are we doing, bard? Do you like watching him?"

"Yes," Jaskier rasps, "and you."

"Mm, I bet you do. How close are you?"

"Very," he mumbles, avoiding Geralt's eyes. "I can't-"

"I know. I can see you squirming over there. You can hold on a little longer, I think."

"Please-" Jaskier whines, but Katja just gives him a look.

"If you come before Geralt, I'll make you sit in the hall so everyone can see just how much you like to watch." It's supposed to be a threat, but Jaskier's prick jerks at the thought of being left outside so everyone can see him like this. The primary flaw in letting this happen, of course, is that he'd no longer be able to watch and that would be truly cruel.

He mumbles an agreement and shoves his hands under his thighs. It doesn't help the near-constant throb of need, but it stops his hands from moving without his permission. He doesn't have long to wait though because he's barely sat himself down again when Katja's thrusting into Geralt again, keeping her pace quick and hard.

Geralt writhes in the sheets, pleading with her to let him come and then, abruptly, she reaches up, wrapping a hand around his cock, and Geralt comes before she can even reach the tip. He bucks hard into her hand, lifting right off the bed and splattering himself with come. Jaskier is so enthralled, so caught up in the moment that he almost forgets his deal and has to sit back on his hands before he can touch himself.

She gives him a look and evidently the pained look of need on his face is enough to assure her he hasn't come yet and he shifts back leaning on her hands. Geralt, on the other hand, slumps against the bed, eyes shut and chest heaving. He's so beautiful like this that it feels almost wrong to be so turned on by him, but Jaskier has never been good at feeling the right things when it comes to Geralt.

But it doesn't last long and when Geralt's eyes open again, they go wide as he looks down between his legs. Jaskier follows his gaze as he stares down between his legs. Katja's got the toy in a harness now, strapped around her hips and she's pressing forward into him. She looks over at Jaskier as she sinks fully into him and Jask forgets to breathe for a moment.

She's stunning, so fucking sexy wrapped up in satin and lace, but Jaskier wants that to be him. He wants to be the one pushing his cock into Geralt, the one whose body Geralt's legs wrap around. Fuck, he's been able to deal with the longing and the ache in his chest when Geralt slips off to visit the brothel or before, when he used to visit Yen, but this is so much more than that. So overwhelming he doesn't know how he can stand it, just watching Geralt and not being able to touch him.

He wants to bury himself in him and stay there forever. He wants to make Geralt come again and again and he wants to be the one with him after, to wipe away the sweat and come and pull him into his arms and fuck, he should not be getting this emotional watching Geralt get fucked, but the only other option is to give in to his arousal and he can't do that yet.

But he'd be so good for him, give him everything he wants. He clenches his eyes shut and when he looks back, Geralt's watching him again, fingers flexing around the bed frame, and Jaskier very nearly goes over there.

"You want to touch don't you?" Katja hums.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Both of you," Geralt whines, "please."

"You can touch me soon enough, pet. You'll have to ask Jaskier later."

Geralt groans loudly, a wild, petulant sound, and Jaskier is hit with the realization that Geralt really wants to touch him, and he can't help but wonder if he's been holding back, too.

"You can," Jaskier whispers, casting a glance at Katja before continuing. She gives a smug little smile and thrusts deep, forcing another groan from Geralt's lips. "Any time you want. Any way you want. You can touch me." His voice is rough and breathy and Geralt just looks at him pleadingly.

"Not yet," Katja says, "you set the rules, pet."

Another petulant groan and Jaskier wants so badly to know about the rules that Geralt made that he can't contain himself. In his defense, all of his self-restraint is being otherwise used.

"What are the rules?"

"He's not allowed to touch unless I tell him he can. And as long as you're amenable."

"Oh." Jaskier's cock jerks hard and he knows he won't be able to control himself much longer. He's so fucking close to coming he has to stop himself from thinking about it in case he slips over the edge.

"Mm, indeed."

Geralt squirms under her, twisting in his bonds and arching up off the bed. He mumbles quiet words that Jaskier can't catch, but judging by Katja's responses, he's asking to come. Jaskier's blood rushes at the absolute obedience and can't keep it together. He's slipping, his cock jerking hard against his thigh, but he's so caught up in Geralt's expression and the way his fingers twist and clench that he's barely aware of his own body.

"Fuck," he whispers, "you look so good like this, wish I could-"

"Jask-" Geralt gasps, low and broken.

The sound sends a jolt through him and Jaskier's cock pulses against his thigh and he's coming, hot and sticky, in his trousers. Wave after wave crashes over him and he can't even think, he just watches as Geralt writhes and jerks and comes all over himself. Jaskier keeps his eyes on him, even as his own orgasm lingers, and Geralt blinks softly at him before shutting his eyes and rolling his head back.

When he finally comes down, Jaskier slumps against his chair. His trousers are uncomfortably wet, but he feels amazing, stuck somewhere between amazement and disbelief. He doesn't even remember the agreement with Katja until she hums at him.

Jaskier reluctantly turns to look at her and she's still rocking forward lightly, one hand in the join of Geralt's hip, curled around the base of his cock. She's stroking slowly and she looks over at Jaskier, shaking her head.

"You're lucky bard, that was almost you out of the room." He gives her a weak, hopeful smile and she laughs. "You're fine, Jaskier, but it was close." She flashes a smug smile and returns her attention to Geralt, smoothing both hands up his stomach and chest.

Jaskier watches, transfixed, as Geralt's cock swells under the touch. He's come for times already, but when Katja plays with his nipples, he squirms and rocks back against her.

"Uh uh," she says, "if you want to come again, you're going to have to work for it, my dear." Geralt groans but Katja just chuckles softly at him, leaning down to press her lips to the underside of his cock. "I can only keep up with you for so long, honey, and look at you-" she runs a hand under his cock, lifting it and wrapping her fingers around him, "-you're already getting hard again."

She drops his cock and thrusts a little harder, jolting Geralt as the toy sinks into him. Jaskier is fascinated. He knows about Geralt's enhancements and he knows the potions can make him go for hours without rest of any sort, but he didn't realize that translated to sex as well. He can't help but wonder how long Geralt could go on for with a partner who could keep up and Katja is doing an excellent job at it, not faltering in the slightest, but Geralt is so ready to just keep going and Jaskier would give anything to be the one to test it.

His own cock is soft now, but when Katja pulls out and crawls up over Geralt again, it gives a twitch of interest. She unwinds the rope from Geralt's wrists and the bedposts, running her hand down his arms and further down his sides to settle on his hips. As Geralt shifts, she settles in his place, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

"Come on up here, big boy," she grins at him and Geralt rises up on his knees, shifting up to straddle her hips. "Mmm, no darling, don't you think Jaskier deserves a show? Turn around, Geralt, let's let him watch."

Geralt is remarkably enthusiastic about it, quickly adjusting himself so he's facing Jaskier where he's still slumped in his seat. Jaskier keeps his eyes on him as Geralt settles and then sits back on the toy. He takes it easily, settling quickly and shifting impatiently as Katja gets her hands on his hips, holding him steady. She waits for a minute, then slides her hands down his thighs and to the bed.

"Fuck me, darling, show Jaskier how badly you want him." Geralt groans and Katja slips her hands up his back. "You do want him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Show him."

Geralt rises up a little, letting the cock nearly slip out of him before dropping back on it again. Katja encourages him and Jaskier keeps his eyes on him, wondering if this is how enthusiastic Geralt is any time he rides a dick. He rocks his hips and moans loudly, his inhibitions long forgotten as his cock bobs between his legs. He leans back, resting on his hands, and Katja gets her hands on his chest, slipping up to play with his nipples and Geralt pushes into the touch as he grinds back hard on the dildo.

"Mmm, you like that don't you, darling? Like being in control of that cock inside you?" Geralt whimpers and Katja pinches a nipple. "Tell me, Geralt."

"Yeah," he breathes, "feels good, nice and thick." Jaskier nearly chokes and his cock gives another twitch.

"Mm and you love it, don't you? Love that thick cock filling you up. Tell us, Geralt, whose cock are you riding?"

"Jaskier's," he gasps and there isn't a note of hesitation. Jaskier just stares for a moment before he remembers how to breathe again. Katja eyes him conspiratorially and slips her hands to Geralt's hips, squeezing gently.

"And why Jaskier?"

"Need it," Geralt huffs, gasping for breath as his hips rock a little quicker. "'S all I can think about." It's obvious that Geralt gets off on this, on talking about what he's doing.

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"Want him. Want him to touch me." His eyes flash open and he turns back, still rocking himself back onto the dildo as he looks pleadingly at Katja. "Can he?" he asks, "please let him touch me, he's right there, he's so close."

"Oh my pet, he is so very close, isn't he? And you already made him come tonight, but I think you can hold on a little longer."

"Don't want to- want him, Kat please."

"Shh, darling. You'll just have to be patient. Tell me what you want from him."

"Want him to fuck me."

"Yes, we know that."

"Want his cock, want to feel it, wanna taste it." Jaskier groans out loud and Geralt's eyes snap back to him as though he'd forgotten he was there. And Jaskier's skin burns hot under his gaze.

"Tell me?" he whispers, "whatever it is, you can have it, love-"

"After," Katja reminds him and Jaskier is quick to amend.

"After."

"Wanna come," Geralt whimpers, "Kat, 'm close-"

"Don't tell me," she whispers, "tell Jaskier."

"Can I?" he asks, directing his attention to him and Jaskier nearly chokes.

"A little longer, love. Show me how much you like my cock."

Geralt groans but rocks his hips hard, slamming himself down on the dildo and clenching his fingers in the sheets. Sweat rolls down his chest and Jaskier wants to climb up onto the bed and lick it away. He wants to climb up into Geralt's lap and jerk him off, make him come hard with that cock up his ass. He groans and presses a hand to his crotch where his cock is slowly filling again.

"Jask," Geralt rasps, "I dunno if I can hold on. Please, wanna come, please-"

"Yeah, fuck Geralt okay. Come for me, love, let me see you."

Geralt gives another couple of thrusts, hips jerking forward into nothingness as he spills over his hip. There's not much come this time, but he continues to twitch as he drops back against Katja's chest. She rocks up into him, fingers trailing along his skin as she hums against his ear.

"You wanna go again?" Geralt pulls off the toy and flops onto his side, smiling softly, almost sheepishly, at her. "I know you do, pet, come here."

She wraps her arms around him, drawing him in and kissing him softly. Jaskier fights back a surge of jealousy and Geralt turns back to look at him for a moment before Katja guides him back to her.

"Touch me," she breathes, leaning in to kiss him. "I wanna ride you next but you gotta work for it."

She gets her arms around his waist, rolling onto her back and pulling Geralt halfway on top of her. He gets a leg between her thighs and when he shifts, Jaskier imagines him rubbing against her thigh. He ducks his head, kissing her shoulder and moving down to her breasts, nipping and sucking at the flesh until he finally gets his mouth around her nipple. A loud moan breaks the stillness and Jaskier realizes with a start that it's Katja moaning and she lifts her leg, pressing against Geralt's cock.

He touches her so softly that Jaskier aches and for the first time he feels like he's interrupting something, that he shouldn't be witness to this. Because Geralt is so soft and he wants that softness for himself. He watches Geralt's hands brush along her skin, how confident he is given the opportunity, and fuck that tugs at something in him that he's been forcibly ignoring for too long, now.

Katja moans again and Jaskier watches the way she moves under him, clearly enjoying the way Geralt touches her. He wants to know that pleasure, to have Geralt's hands on him, his mouth on him and he whines softly as his cock twitches. He's overwhelmed by it, desperate for any little touch, even brief, but Katja moves again, pressing Geralt onto his back, and it distracts him momentarily, from the burning need in his chest.

She wastes no time climbing up onto him and the moment of distraction stretches as she turns away from him, stroking his cock with both hands before shifting to push it inside of her. She gasps and Geralt groans, hands coming up to her hips, and Jaskier is so preoccupied with the sight of his cock slipping in and out of her to think of anything else. She keeps her legs spread wide, clearly inviting him to watch and he couldn't look away if he tried.

Apart from being gorgeous, Katja has more control over Geralt's cock than most men he's been with and she's stunning to watch, especially when Geralt is already mumbling weakly beneath her. He holds his hips still, but Jaskier catches the twitch of them out of the corner of his eyes and Geralt's fingers speak of his desperation, clinging to her hips and thighs or the blankets beneath them.

Jaskier whimpers to watch them. He's held out for so fucking long, he doesn't even know how to cope any longer. He wants to come again, his prick swollen and twitching in his already ruined trousers. He barely resists touching himself, but then Katja looks over at him with a wide smile.

"How are you holding up?"

Jaskier just whines because he doesn't trust his voice right now, doesn't trust himself not to say how badly he wants to fuck Geralt, or worse, how he feels about him.

"What do you want, pet? Tell me."

"Wanna lick you." It's not a lie, he does, but he also wants to fuck, to be fucked, to touch.

"Mm, come up here then, let's see what that famous tongue can do."

He's hesitant, but he doesn't show it, rising up from his seat and striding across the room. He climbs up onto the bed and leans down, flicking his eyes up to confirm he's allowed. Katja presses a hand to his head and leans back.

Fuck, she smells incredible, and with every shift, Jaskier catches sight of Geralt's cock fucking into her. He does his best to ignore it, focusing on Katja instead.

He starts small, kissing the space between her thighs and her cunt and she laughs softly when she realizes what he's doing, but she doesn't stop him. He moves around, kissing everywhere he can reach before finally pressing a soft kiss to her cunt. He flicks his tongue out, slipping between her folds and his cock throbs beneath him, brutally reminded of how hard he already is again, how badly he'd like to sit up and press into her.

And fuck, if that isn't a thought. Geralt's cock slipping against his own as they work to bring her off together. He wants that. Fuck, he wants it so fucking badly, but instead, he puts all of his want and desire into eating her out. And the reaction is worth it, the way her fingers clench in his hair and the way she moans above him, telling him to keep on with it.

"Mm, right there," she breathes and Jaskier curls his tongue around her clit, sucking hard and delighting in the sounds that spill from her lips. "Fuck, Jaskier they weren't kidding when they said you had a talented tongue." He flicks his eyes up to look at her and she hauls him up into a rough kiss, before pushing him back down again and Jaskier is more than happy to prove himself.

"Fuck," she breathes, "that's it, darling. Gods, Geralt your boy really has a fucking mouth on him." Geralt huffs a laugh and his fingertips brush against Jaskier's. "Bet you'd love to get that mouth on your cock, hm? And you," she adds, slipping her fingers through Jaskier's hair, "ah- you too, I bet." Jaskier just moans against her, sucking at the folds of skin and flicking her clit with his tongue.

"Make me come and you can suck him off, Jaskier."

He can barely think beyond the thought of Geralt's cock in his mouth and when Katja moves abruptly, he can feel Geralt's cock slide against his tongue and it's already overwhelming. He wants to taste him so badly he aches and he doubles down in his efforts, sliding a hand up her thigh and, when she doesn't protest or push him away, travelling further up her chest.

He plays with her nipples and eats her out and before long she's jerking hard against him, pressing down on Geralt's cock and grinding between the two of them. Until now, she's been cool and collected, as though entirely unaffected by anything happening around her, but she squirms now and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off her.

Jaskier can feel when she gets close, the way she shifts and the way Geralt groans as she clenches around him. And then, abruptly, she's coming, tugging Jaskier's hair and pulling his head in close to rock against him. Around him, Geralt pulls his knees up, bracing himself as he rolls his hips and Jaskier realizes belatedly that Geralt's coming too.

Katja shudders and leans back against Geralt's chest, tilting to kiss his cheek.

"You've been so good tonight, Geralt, I think you deserve a little treat." He mumbles something, but Jaskier is only half-aware of what it is and then Katja laughs softly. She pushes herself up and climbs off of Geralt, sliding off the edge of the bed.

"Come here," he says, gesturing for Jaskier to come closer. He shifts up onto the bed and she moves to the side, giving him space to settle between Geralt's legs. "I'm gonna go have a nap now," she grins, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth, "take care of him for me?"

Jaskier's breath catches and his heart beats too quickly in his chest, almost painfully. But Katja is already leaning down to kiss Geralt again, climbing over him and slipping off the bed.

"Have fun boys," she hums and then she's gone, shutting the door behind her and Jaskier is left feeling remarkably out of his depth.

He bites his lips and looks down at Geralt, laid out for him and still breathing heavily. His eyes are dark and lidded and he looks so damn beautiful Jaskier can barely breathe.

"Do you want-?" is as far as he gets before Geralt is sitting up and reaching out to him.

"Yes," he says quickly. One hand cups Jaskier's jaw as the other arm slips around the back of his neck and then he's being pulled down and kissed hard despite Geralt's stiff and sluggish movements.

He can barely think but to kiss him, pressing against his chest and humming into his mouth. He's thought about this so many times and yet in all the years he's considered it, he barely thought it would ever happen, much less that Geralt would be the one to initiate it. But he holds him closer, keeping Jaskier against his chest as he presses against him, arching off the bed just to get closer.

Jaskier quickly unbuttons his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it aside as Geralt's little movements get stronger, his hips a little more demanding where they press against his own. And Jaskier could cry for the pleasure of it all. He's been hard for so long, not even touching himself, and now Geralt's rutting against him, fully hard and clearly wanting and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself. But as Geralt deepens the kiss again, he realizes it doesn't matter.

This is Geralt and he and Geralt always find a way to make things work.

So he grinds down a little more firmly with the next roll and Geralt moans into his mouth, a slight whine to his voice. His trousers must be rough against his bare prick after coming so many times already, but Geralt makes no attempt to let him go, apparently happy enough to just kiss him. And Jaskier could live the rest of his life in this bed wrapped around Geralt.

Geralt makes a soft little sound, blinking softly at him and Jaskier pulls away, just a little.

"Tired, love?"

"I want you." Jaskier's heart clenches and all the poems and songs in the world don't have the words to tell Geralt how much he adores him right now.

"I know, darling, but let me alright? You've already done so well tonight, my love, let me take over." Jaskier shuffles up close, fitting himself between Geralt's thighs and sliding his hands up his sides.

He bends to kiss him, dragging his lips against Geralt's skin and savouring the saltiness of it on his tongue. His own desire becomes secondary to Geralt's, to exploring his body and discovering the most sensitive parts of him. And Geralt is happy to be explored, humming and sighing and moaning softly under God's hands and mouth.

He's beautiful like this, so soft and docile, but Jaskier's cock bumps against Geralt's every time he leans forward and soon the fiction is too much to ignore. He rocks forward, hands planted on either side of Geralt's chest as he grinds against him, panting and moaning against Geralt's skin.

Then there are hands on his hips and sliding along his waistband to the front. Geralt gets him out of his trousers with little effort and shoves them down and out of the way so he can get a hand around him. He strokes them together and Jaskier rocks into the touch with a moan, leaning up to meet Geralt in a kiss.

Geralt's hands are calloused but Gentle and Jaskier delights in the roughness around his cock, even as sensitive as he is. His hips jump with it, but Geralt keeps a hand on his back, soothing and settling. Even so, Jaskier isn't going to last long, so when he breaks the kiss, he moves down to nip at Geralt's jaw and kiss his way down his neck and chest.

He pauses briefly in his travels to nose at Geralt's nipples and the sound he gets in response is so desperate and needy Jaskier barely keeps himself from reaching down and jerking him off right like that. But he still wants to get his mouth on him and he knows he can make Geralt come like that, so he pulls off his nipple, ignoring Geralt's protests and shuffles down the bed so he's hovering above his cock.

Jaskier has no idea how he can still be so hard after coming so many times, but he'd put coin on the trials having something to do with it - enhanced stamina and all that. He noses up the length of Geralrt's cock, breathing in the scent of him and desperately hopes that he'll get the chance to find out the full extent of that stamina.

Beneath him, Geralt is as impatient as if he hasn't come once, writhing and moaning and softly pleading with him and Jaskier can hardly stand it. He slides one hand up Geralt's chest, reaching up to brush against his lips and when Geralt sucks his fingers into his mouth, Jaskier shudders and groans.

"Fuck," he whispers, "you like that, love?"

He doesn't wait for a response before mouthing at the underside of his cock and sliding up and wrapping his lips around the head. Geralt whimpers and he can feel it around his fingers and it's so much that Jaskier will be lucky if he doesn't come untouched again just listening to the sounds Geralt makes with a mouth around his cock.

He takes him down, prepared to use all his best techniques to impress Geralt and get him off quickly, but he barely sinks down halfway, tongue pressed against the underside of his cock before Geralt is coming, jerking hard and whining around Jaskier's fingers. Jaskier sinks down fully, holding Geralt's cock against the back of his throat while he shakes and shudders through it.

His own cock throbs and he can't help but shove a hand down under him, jerking himself hard and fast as Geralt shudders through an orgasm. He comes too quickly, overwhelmed by Geralt under him. He presses his head into Geralt's stomach, panting and whining against him and Geralt gets an arm around his shoulders, his free hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

Jaskier is still working through the rush when Geralt pulls him off his cock and tugs him up on top of him again. He still has so much strength even after exhausting himself and Jaskier's cock gives a pathetic twitch of interest. Geralt gets him out of his trousers and Jaskier shifts to get comfortable, slipping to lie next to him.

"You're amazing," Jaskier mumbles, eyes only half-open.

It takes a couple of minutes to adjust to the sensitivity, but he swells under Geralt's touch, moaning softly against his lips as he kisses him again. Dream or not, he'll be running off this high for a long time. Geralt's hips stutter against him and Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock, slowly stroking from the tip right down to the base and Geralt breathes heavily against his lips.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods slowly.

"'S good. Jask-"

"Shh, darling, I've got you." He kisses Geralt's jaw, brushing his lips against his mouth. "Geralt," he breathes, "do you want to come again? Can I fuck you?"

"Yeah," Geralt gasps, "yes. Please." He pushes forward into Jaskier's hand and Jaskier squeezes a little tighter around him before pulling off.

Geralt releases him, too and Jaskier readjusts to fit better against him without their arms in the way. He leans up to kiss him, sliding one hand up the side of Geralt's face and into his hair. A wave of anxiety washes over him, mingling with the anticipation and lust already roiling through him. What if he's not good enough? What if he can't get him off again? Geralt has already come six times and Katja was very good at getting him there. He's not sure he'll be enough.

But Geralt moans against his mouth, and reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Jaskier's cock and pressing it against his hole. There's a little gasp from both of them as he pushes forward, just slightly, but then Geralt's groaning, throwing his head back and pressing his hips down.

Jaskier holds his breath as he pushes forward, nipping at Geralt's throat and kissing over the little red marks as they fade. He pushes his hips forward just barely breaching him and Geralt tenses under him but he doesn't let up, so Jaskier pushes a little further, sinking into him. He doesn't so much as move before Geralt's twitching under him, letting out a desperate moan and coming hard.

He groans and shoves himself onto Jaskier's cock, rocking onto him and fisting a hand in his hair. He shakes and shudders and Jaskier can't focus on anything but the tight heat around his cock.

"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "fuck Jask, yes. 'S good, 's good please-"

Without hesitation, Jaskier rolls his hips forward, and his thighs shake with the effort it takes not to just slam into him and chase his own orgasm. He props himself up on his elbows, looking down at Geralt as he fucks into him, at the pleasure on his face and the exhaustion that sets in. He dips down to kiss him and moves to pull away, but Geralt stops him, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close.

"Want you," he mumbles, "Jask please."

"You've got me."

He gives another couple of thrusts and he's already so fucking close when Geralt squeezes around him and he comes hard, shaking as he continues rocking into him. He drops his head to Geralt's shoulders, pressing sloppy kisses into his skin, but as the rush passes, he collapses against him. He barely pulls out before Geralt's arms are around him, holding him against his chest as he nuzzles against his neck.

It seems to take forever before Jaskier can breathe without panting again, and by the time he relaxes and rolls back onto the bed, Geralt is breathing softly next to him, eyes shut. He'd think he was asleep if not for the gentle way Geralt's thumb brushes his skin.

Jaskier rolls onto him and Geralt releases him, pulling his arm back to his side. It feels a little like a dismissal, but Jaskier has nowhere else to go, so he settles in. He follows Geralt, pressing up against his back and draping an arm over his hip.

"You know," he hums, "the next time you want to have someone watch you get fucked, you could just ask me instead of paying for a second girl. I'd… be happy to join you."

"Hmm." Geralt doesn't sound opposed to the idea, so Jaskier presses on.

"I know you like seeing her," he adds, "but we could do this again, it was good, right?"

"Yeah," Geralt breathes and Jaskier slumps in relief, pressing a kiss to Geralt's shoulder. He was worried that maybe he was pressing too far, but evidently not. "You'd do that?"

"'S not purely selfless, my darling, you should see the way you looked tonight. Stunning." Geralt huffs and Jaskier nuzzles into his hair. "So beautiful, love. I could hardly believe you'd let me stay."

"Always wanted you there," Geralt mumbles, "didn't know how to ask."

"Well," Jaskier hums, "now you know you can. All you have to do is say come with me and I will."

"And if I wanted… other things?"

"Depends what they are, but you know I'd never say no to you, Geralt."

"Even if I just wanted you… without anyone else?" Jaskier's breath catches, but he forces the words out.

"I think it might be better to have this conversation in the morning," he whispers, "but yes, Geralt. Anything you want." Geralt presses back against him and Jaskier smiles into his hair.

"Jask," he hums, "will you stay for tonight?"

"Darling, if you have me, I'll stay forever."

#geraskier #geralt x female oc #rex writes #ashley i'm stealing your post style i hope that's cool <3 #nsft #spicy

[infernalrevenge]

Hey, Kiss Me? (Don't Mind If I Do)

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G

Summary: Daniela is used to being the flirty one, blowing kisses and making a pass at anyone who caught her attention. It just never occurred to her that the tables could turn on her.

Notes: [slams fists on the table] LET ME FLIRT WITH THE CUTE VAMPIRE GIRL. If RE8 had a dating sim spin-off in some alternate universe where Capcom REALLY wanted to capitalize on the game's success, one of my runs would definitely involve romancing the youngest Dimitrescu. For anyone else who feels me on this, this is for you too. I also tried writing this in 2nd person POV for a change. Hope it still turned out alright, it's my first time writing this way. Enjoy!

----------

You had been working for the Duke for quite a while now. He took you in in your time of need and had been made an apprentice of sorts in the art of trading and bargaining.

You've met your fair share of oddities while settled in the village and running errands, including but not limited to: A man who can control metal and electricity on a whim, a talking doll who lives under a waterfall, and the numerous wolf-man hybrids that lurked around the vicinity. They were what most may consider crass company -- at least, that was what the Lady of the castle would say.

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu was a frequent customer and a business partner of the Duke's, helping her in the sale of her vintage "wine" to intrigued buyers. This also meant that the two of you were frequent visitors to the castle on the other side of the village proper -- a vast estate that was entirely too large for just four women to occupy (even if one of those women happened to be nine feet tall).

Miss Bela was always the more polite and civil of Dimitrescu's daughters, offering a simple greeting whenever you would come by. When it was appropriate, she was always at her mother's side and paying attention to how meetings between the older adults would proceed, like a student eager to learn from the best. You figured that, as the oldest sibling, she might take over the business someday. You weren't sure exactly how that would happen, given what you knew of the family, but you really shouldn't prod anyway. At least, not now.

Miss Cassandra was more closed off, so to speak. It always seemed like she would barely acknowledge your presence in the castle, talking only when it was necessary and immediately leaving the room once she was allowed to. However, you would feel a prickling in the back of their neck when she wasn't around, like you were being watched from the background -- prey at the mercy of their predator. But every time you turned around, there would be no one there, not even a sound to indicate escape. A part of you thought you might have been pulled into some unwitting game, wondering what would happen if you did catch the perpetrator in the act. You weren't sure you really wanted to find out.

Then, there was Miss Daniela, whose attention seemed to lie in... other prospects. Like Bela, she offered warm greetings whenever you would stop by the property. Unlike her sisters though, who never really bothered with the Duke's apprentice, she always tried to entertain herself with your company. You had a friendly enough rapport with her that you could relax in her presence as well, so it was nice. You figured it was mostly because they rarely ever got outside company, and since the sisters stay in the castle a lot of the time, she always welcomed you with enthusiasm. And a smile. And a wink. And some passing remark about how nicely you dressed that day and that you must have been trying to impress her.

"I could just eat you right up," she would say with a giggle and a playful growl.

You've never been too sure what to make of her -- she always seemed to have her head in the clouds, only coming back down at the behest of her mother or when her sisters were persistent enough. You also never knew how to respond to her flirting apart from flustered silence, which only seemed to spur her on even more. It was like she was just trying to get a reaction from you, making a game of it. It was far different from the one her older sister seemed to be keen on playing, but a game nonetheless -- how far could she push your buttons and make you implode from embarrassment?

Honestly, it seemed to be working.

You had been well-socialized thanks to your training under the Duke, and of course the man himself was charming and likeable so a part of you liked to think it may have rubbed off as he raised you. But that was when it came to formalities and negotiations -- maybe banter, if you could really push it. You've thought about responding earnestly, but flirting was another ball game all on its own, one that you don't really play on purpose, and you frequently found yourself floundering at the face of it. Especially when that face was as pretty as Daniela's.

It wasn't like you thought she liked you that way or anything -- you genuinely thought she said all those things for fun, to amuse herself with how hot you got or how you would sheepishly shrink in on yourself. But you weren't going to deny that she was cute and that you may have just a small crush on her. Just maybe. Not that you would ever admit that out loud.

----------

One winter day, the Duke entrusted you with meeting with Lady Dimitrescu on your own. She was informed of his absence beforehand -- something about attending to Lord Heisenberg's business -- and so you were left to take care of updates. In the meantime, you kept yourself busy in the guest area, perusing the dusty books in shelves that definitely needed some cleaning. It seemed like the castle could never have enough help.

As soon as you were left alone, with only your notepad and thoughts to keep you company, you felt the hairs at the back of your neck stand. You slowly looked to the side, eyes trained on a dark corner of the room. The light from the fireplace didn't quite reach that spot, making it quite the hiding place. Was something (or someone) moving from there? Are your eyes playing paranoid tricks on you? Was it Miss Cassandra playing her one-sided game again? Perhaps... you shouldn't interfere then.

You turned your attention back to the book shelf, looking high above you, wanting to take a closer look at the selection. You dragged a stool and a few stacked cushions to the shelves and slipped your shoes off, praying to whoever was out there that Lady Dimitrescu wouldn't find you like this. Oh, the scolding I'd get from Duke about manners -- you'd never hear the end of it. Stepping carefully onto the plush surface -- a few feet from the ground -- and finding your balance, you start to pick something out that had an interesting title.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Y/N," a voice echoed in the room, catching you off guard.

You jumped in surprise and lost your footing, falling backward as the cushions slipped from under you. Oh yeah, this was gonna hurt! But before you could make contact with the hardwood floor, a hand reached out and grabbed you by the waist, catching you in a rather precarious position.

"You could've hurt that cute little ass of yours," the voice cooed. Daniela seemed to have materialized from out of nowhere, wearing a mischievous grin and holding onto you as she practically hovered over you. Oh god, she was so close, you don't know where your body heat ended and hers started.

"Miss Daniela," you greeted, finally finding your voice. "Um, thanks for the save."

She pulled you up to standing on the stool and raised an eyebrow at you, smirking amusedly, "And what exactly were you doing so high up in the shelves? Aren't you supposed to be waiting here like a good little one?"

"I was just... looking at the books," you replied softly, "And falling for you, I suppose," you added as a joke, chuckling as you shook off your nerves from earlier. You were a little surprised she didn't start off with that line honestly, given how easy--

Daniela's smirk dropped at your response, eyes widening as she stiffened. Uh oh... did you say something wrong?

She blinked at you, mouth hanging open slightly as if she was trying to find the words. It looked like she gave up though, just looking away and stepping off the stool. Were you imagining that her cheeks just turned pink?

"Mother's waiting for you at the meeting room," was all she said before quickly making her exit.

It took a while before the wheels in your head started turning again.

----------

The next time you came to the castle with the Duke, it was a warm day in spring. On these occasions, sometimes Lady Dimitrescu would be more open to a different venue of meeting than inside the castle -- "for a change of scenery," as she would say. The two of you met her and her daughters at the main garden at the back of the property, the sun shining generously on all forms of life.

When Daniela spotted you, she seemed almost caught unaware, but she quickly regained composure, throwing a smirk and wink your way -- her usual greeting. You couldn't help but duck down shyly, but nonetheless waved and smiled back.

The older adults took their business elsewhere, leaving you alone with the daughters at the lobby; well, more like a daughter, since Cassandra had already left before you can say another word and Bela had excused herself soon after. It was normal for you to be in the company of the redhead at this point. Not that she seemed to mind.

"Been a while since you've been back here. Betcha missed me, huh?" Daniela said, a charming smile curled on her lips. She stood next to you, seeming intent on leading you on a little walk around. Hey, you'd take any excuse to spend time with her.

You laughed softly, "Quite, Miss Daniela."

"You're still sticking to those formalities, Y/N? Come on, you can drop the 'Miss'." She sidled up closer to you, nudging your side. "You can even skip 'Daniela' altogether and just call me yours."

You unconsciously covered your mouth as you glanced her way -- she was being more straightforward than usual. You don't know if you were just trying to hide the blood rushing to your cheeks or trying to stop yourself from smiling too widely, but seeing the smug look on the other's face, you knew she succeeded yet again in flustering you.

"What's wrong? Did summer come early? You're looking kinda warm," she teased, bending down slightly to your face level. "Then again, you are hot enough for the both of us." Damn, she was too good at this. "You'd give the sun a run for its money, honey."

You took a few moments to collect yourself, standing up straighter and clearing your throat. Your eyes looked up to meet hers, showing a half-smile as you spoke with as smooth of a delivery as you can muster, "I'd always thought you would be the sun's rival, given how easily you brighten up my day."

Daniela nearly tripped when she took another step, only managing to catch herself on a nearby bench.

"Are you--"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, just, uh... stubbed my toe on something. Stupid rock."

There were no rocks on the path you two were walking -- unless one counted the flat rock ground. (It didn't.)

The rest of the day carried on as it normally would -- Daniela distracting you from the uneasy feeling of being watched from a proper walk with her usual demeanor, batting her eyelashes and telling you how she simply must teach you to dance some time. "Maybe then you'll learn to loosen up around me." But in return, you would sometimes reply with your own quips -- "Well I wouldn't be opposed to being closer to you, Miss Daniela." You weren't about to question where this newfound confidence came from; you may as well own it, right?

It was only after that visit, replaying the day in your head like you wanted to remember it for as long as you could, that a realization came to you -- the way her cheeks tinged pink and averted her gaze, how she was rendered speechless whenever you replied in the same way that was usually expected of her...

She's not used to being flirted back to.

Her self-esteem allowed her to accept most straightforward compliments with grace, so flattery did not faze her in the slightest -- but when it came to using disarming words? When charm and wit were used right back at her?

She floundered almost as much as you did.

Suddenly, you weren't just a prop in the game anymore -- you knew how to play it now. You knew uttering such sweet (and occasionally cheesy) phrases could make the youngest Dimitrescu blush harder than a maiden being courted. And by god, did she look adorable when she did.

You kind of understood why she did all that now -- watching someone get flustered and knowing you were the cause of it was fun. It was weirdly thrilling seeing her react like that, but then again you might be confusing that feeling with different kind of fluttering in your chest whenever you were alone with Daniela. Who knows?

One thought lingered at the back of your mind though: How long would it take before one of you broke and asked the other on a real date?

.

.

.

(Cassandra materialized behind Daniela as you bade her farewell for the day. She had been observing the two of you interact for a while, monitoring the redhead's "progress". She knocked her sister out of her faraway thoughts with a smack to the head. "So are you gonna admit you like them yet?"

Daniela seemed almost offended at the insinuation, "I would nev-- I mean how dare-- I don't like-- they're just-- I--"

The brunette only raised an eyebrow.

"They're..." She thought back to you, that cute little smile you wore whenever she tried to flirt with you, and how you suddenly rose to the challenge of using her own tactics against her earlier. It was kind of hot. "Okay, I guess. They're okay. They're fine." Quite fine. "That's all I'm gonna say."

"Suuuure...")

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #dimitrescu daughters #dimitrescu sisters

[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.

#all these brown colors...how taurean of me #johnny smut #johnny angst #johnny fic #johnny scenario #johnny imagines #johnny imagine #johnny scenarios #nct fic #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct angst #ambw scenarios #ambw scenario #kpop ambw #ambw imagines #ambw imagine #ambw fic #ambw #nct vampire au #nct vampire

[iam93percentstardust]

Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

~

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

~

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

~

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

~

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

#alle writes #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers

[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror (Pt iv)

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 4: You begin to feel something is truly off about the twins as you all start to get ready for the world cup

Warnings: gets the slightest bit spicy, someone briefly isn't wearing a shirt but nothing happens lol

Word count: 2,637

female!reader, 2nd person POV

(a/n): We're back to Twin-Way Mirror BUT! I'm still taking requests! I think it'd be awesome to make some stories any of you want to see! Don't be nervous to reach out and send me an ask! Please!!!! I sit in the college cafeteria every morning for hours needing something to do!!!!! Love you all and hope you have a ~magical~ day <3

***

“(Y/n)! (y/n), get up!” Hermione whispered, shaking your shoulders lightly, “We need to get ready to go, could you wake up the twins? I need to get the other boys.”

You nodded, eyes not fully open as you sat up in bed and stretched. By the time you had rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and looked around, Hermione was already gone. Crawling out of bed, you looked over at the twins. Both of them were still fast asleep, and you tried to recall exactly how heavy of sleepers they were.

“C’mon, fellas, we gotta get moving,” You mumbled, nudging the one nearest to you. When there was no response, you sighed. Sitting down on their bed next to them, you leaned over and tucked his hair behind his ear. Freckles. Taking a deep breath, you placed your lips next to his ear. Without whispering, you woke him up, “Oi, Georgie Porgie. Get up, we need to go soon.”

You felt his leg kick out with a start as he bolted upright, his eyes snapping open and looking around before he saw you. You tried to hold back a smile but failed, and with an exasperated groan he grabbed your shoulders and yanked you over to him. You let out a little yelp as he wrapped his arms around you and yawned.

“How dare you,” he paused, squeezing you as he stretched out his legs, “waking me up in such a violent manner! Do you not care about my beauty sleep? It takes a lot of work to be the better looking one!” this got you to laugh, but not long after that a pillow came flying towards your face. George ducked, turning the two of you to shield you from the impact, “Careful love, I think we’ve awakened the savage beast,” He winked down at you before getting hit with another pillow.

“Savage beast? Speak for yourself Georgie. (y/n), where’s my good morning kiss? I dare say I feel a bit cheated,” Fred pouted. You wriggled out from George’s arms and threw a pillow back at Fred before walking to your trunk and taking out some clothes.

“Bold of you to assume George would even get a ‘good morning kiss.’ And if the two of you don’t get up you’re not going to get a good morning, period. Now c’mon, Hermione said we’d be leaving soon,” You picked up the pillow from your cot and threw it so it hit one of them, then ran out of the room before either had the chance to reciprocate your actions.

You changed as quickly as you could and combed your hair. You knew you didn’t have a whole lot of time to spend in the bathroom with a house full of people, but as you splashed your face and let the cold water drip off your nose, you started mulling over everything that had happened since you got here: Being carried into the house, Fred and George’s jokes about the handsomer twin, the moments where you’d make one of them go quiet, not to mention Fred kissing your forehead last night. It was all rather odd, really. You wondered if Hermione or Angelina would have anything to say about it. After drying off your face and deciding that talking to the girls about it wouldn’t hurt, you left the bathroom and headed back to put your pajamas back in your trunk. Apparently you were too used to having a room to yourself, as you opened the door without knocking.

That was a mistake.

“Bloody hell, (y/n)!” you heard one of them exclaim before you slammed the door and clamped your eyes shut. You weren’t sure which twin was still in their room, but whichever it was, they hadn’t exactly finished changing their shirt. A second later the door swung open again and you did everything in your power to not look up at them again.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” You winced, trying to duck below their arm and get through the doorway without touching them. He only laughed, and turned to watch you tip-toe through the bedroom out of embarrassment. Walking back towards the door and staring at your feet (either out of embarrassment or fear that he’d see your face turning as red as his hair) you had nearly made it out before he stuck out his arm to block you.

“I’m so sorry, I really am,” you stammered out again, still trying to avoid his gaze, “I forgot to knock and I thought you two had gone downstairs and-”

He only chuckled to himself, “It’s alright, (y/n), nothing that hasn’t happened before, and certainly not something that won’t ever happen again, right?”

At this you looked up, utterly confused, “I’m sorry, what?” you caught a glimpse of his jumper, green with a large letter ‘G’ knitted into the front.

“Oh, uh…” he paused, scratching the back of his head, “I only mean that...I’ve been walked in on before and...It’s bound to happen again and...well better me putting my shirt on than something else, right?” he offered a laugh, but after hearing his words leave his mouth it came out more like a wince.

After some hesitation you gave a weak smile, then nodded, “Right, yeah,” he coughed, and you looked down at your feet before pointing out to the hallway, “Let’s get going, then.”

***

The seven of you left the burrow just as the sun had started to rise, George and Fred had been walking with the other boys, passionately talking about who would win the quidditch match and debating what bets to place on which team. Meanwhile, you lagged behind with Hermione and Ginny. When you were sure the twins couldn’t hear you, you leaned over to Hermione and whispered.

“Have you noticed anything different about them lately?” you nodded to the gang of boys ahead of you.

“Well...Harry did mention having a bad dream last night. And he woke up with his scar hurting. We’re not sure what it is but-”

“No I uh...I meant the twins,” You interrupted, shoving your hands in your pockets as you watched them walking ahead of you. Merlin, they had gotten taller, they were practically twice as tall as Ginny and had to walk with their heads ducked so they wouldn’t be hit by any passing branches. One of them (George, you could see the top of the ‘G’ on his jumper from underneath his jacket) was walking backwards. He caught on that you were watching him, and his face lit up before he stuck out his tongue. You waved back, but quickly turned back to Hermione, “Something just seems a little different.”

“Well they’re much taller than the end of last term, and I suppose their hair has gotten a bit longer since the last time you three would have seen each other,” she thought aloud.

“I’m well aware of that,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear in hopes that your hand shielded any blush on your face.

“And they are quite excited about the match today, if that means anything,” she added, tilting her head, “But other than that I haven’t really been paying much attention. Why do you ask?” she turned to you, curiosity in her voice.

“They talked about you practically all summer,” Ginny butted in, “Every other thing they said was (y/n) this and (y/n) that,” She stood up as tall as she could and tried to copy their voice to the best of her ability, “Blimey, Freddie, I sure wish (y/n) was here. You know she would appreciate our refined taste. Oi Ron, (y/n) wrote to you, the least you could do is say hi back to her! Look everyone, (y/n) sent me a letter! (Y/n) sent me a letter! Did Eros stop by, mum?” she sighed, shaking her head, “You’d think you were the only person in the world! No offense, of course. They spoke about you like you were some great celebrity.”

“Did they really?” You asked, rather puzzled as you looked back up towards the twins. George turned around again and gave you an exaggerated wave, with Fred following suit.

Ginny picked up her pace to catch up with the others, but before Hermione could do the same, you grabbed her hand, “I walked in on George this morning.” You almost blurted out.

“What?” she asked, rather shocked. You shushed her before she had the chance to say anything louder and draw attention.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose” you said in your defense, “I just opened the door and he wasn’t wearing-”

“I don’t want to know!” she interrupted in a harsh whisper, but after a moment she asked quickly, “What happened after that?”

“I slammed the door shut and probably turned as red as a tomato. Then when I went back in he sort of awkwardly made a joke about it, but he didn’t seem too bothered? He just wasn’t wearing a shirt, so it could have been way more...you know…awkward.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Well that’s for sure. (y/n), I haven’t the slightest idea what to tell you. You know George better than I do and by the looks of it, he doesn’t seem to be the least bit bothered,” She started to pick up the pace of her walk to catch up with the rest of the group, and you did the same.

“Hurry up kids, we’re nearly there!” Mr. Weasely called out over his shoulder as he ducked under another branch, “Ah, Amos!”

A man who you assumed was Amos Diggory smiled and loudly greeted Mr. Weasley, the two of them talked and exchanged a brief conversation about the weather before you heard Mr. Weasley ask, “Where is your son? Cedric, right?”

Cedric. That’s where you had heard the name Diggory before. Griffyndors and Hufflepuffs shared a potions class last year, and the two of you had been assigned as partners. He was a rather nice boy, and although the two of you didn’t exactly become best friends, you always waved to each other when he passed you in the hallways.

After making his grand entrance of jumping down from a tree, he greeted everyone with a simple nod. It was then that you caught his eye and he jogged over to walk beside you.

“(y/n), I didn’t expect to see you here. What a pleasant surprise if you don’t mind my saying so,” he smiled, and you could have sworn you saw Hermione and Ginny give each other a look out of the corner of your eye.

You nodded, “Yeah, the Weasleys were nice enough to invite Harry and I. How has your summer been, Cedric?” You looked over at him, trying to ignore the twins entering a small shoving match a few feet away.

“Oh it was quite nice, and you?” Cedric was always so polite, and that had proved helpful in potions with Professor Snape. The class was by default unbearable; the cold and dark and dank dungeon, Professor Snape’s face always glaring down at you over your shoulder, his comments on your insufferable eagerness to learn magic, on most days having Cedric as your partner was what made the actual class time worthwhile.

“Ah yes, the dynamic potions-brewing duo reunited once again.” Fred interrupted, slinging his arms over you and Cedric’s shoulders, startling both of you.

“It’s nice to see you too, George,” Cedric smiled, looking rather ruffled by the surprise.

“That’s not George,” you corrected, swinging one arm over Fred’s shoulder and the other over George beside you, nodding your head in his direction, “this one’s George.”

Cedric looked over at you in casual awe, “how do you do it, (y/n)? How do you tell them apart?”

You pulled the three boys closer, throwing your head back with a laugh, “Well it takes some practice. But it’s actually quite simple, you see-”

“Hurry up now! All of you! Gather round, it’s almost time!” Mr. Weasley called out, getting the four of you to jog up to join the group gathered around an old boot. George turned his head to Cedric, but didn’t take his eyes off you, “Come now, Ced, a magician never reveals his tricks.”

You looked back at him, pressing your back to his chest to reach out and place your fingertips on the boot, “Georgie, we’re all magic.”

Before he could respond, you felt your whole body’s weight lurch forward and your feet leave the ground, gravity hooking around your abdomen as the group of you took off spinning. At one point, you felt you were going to go flying off away from everyone. George must have felt this two, and you felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you closer. You thought you heard Mr Weasley shout for all of you to let go, and before you could process what it was he was saying, George let go of the boot. You felt him fly away and, with his arm still around you, you were yanked off with him.

The two of you landed with an oof, your back still pressed against George’s back. You could hear him groan from beneath you as you rolled off him and scrambled to your feet, turning back around and offering out a hand to help him up. He smiled weakly, squinting up in the bright light as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

You weren’t sure what to blame, his arms strong from playing beater for Quidditch the past four years, or how you were still dizzy from your ride through the portkey. But what you did know was one moment you were standing, offering to help him up, and the next he had pulled you back on top of him.

The two of you froze, not breaking eye contact. You could see the horror grow on his face and blush creeping up on his ears. And, by the feel of it, your face was about the same. Neither of you moved or said a word until you thought you overheard Fred groan and Cedric laugh from over to the side.

“Sorry!” He cried out, a bit embarrassed as he shoved you off him and got up to his feet, now offering his hand to pull you up, “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

You reached up, clearing your throat as you tried to not look flustered. You weren't quite prepared for how quickly he tugged your arm though. Once again the two of you found yourselves rather close, your chests pressed together from how quickly he pulled you up.

“Oi, you two!” Fred called from behind you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him, “We’re gonna lose the others if you two don’t stop rolling around in the grass.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder and jogged to keep up with Fred’s big steps. You could see the big goofy grin on his face and couldn’t help but laugh. You’d seen the twins excited over pranks, but this was a different kind of excited; innocent, wide-eyed, wholesome (or as wholesome as the twins could get). Watching his face strain from all his smiling, you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked down at you with a sort of glint in his eye you couldn’t remember seeing before and he let out a chuckle as he loosened his grip ongeo your hand and spun you around.

“I don’t suppose you’ve been to a quidditch match outside of school. Have you, (y/n)?” He asked, keeping his hand in yours and swinging your arms back and forth.

“No, I don’t suppose I have,” you answered, “but I can’t wait.”

#fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #george wealsey imagine #george x y/n #george weasley #george x reader #fred x y/n #fred weasley #george wealsey x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #fred and goerge weasley #weasley twins #requests anyone? #requests are open #requests open

[kuroopaisen]

10:31 pm || miya osamu

➵ osamu won’t stop making his damn onigiri. 

wc: 1400

warnings: gn!reader, the slightest bit suggestive  

a/n: @starrysamu i’ll be honest, it’s a while since i’ve written something and been happy with it. but i wanted to give you something on your birthday to say thank you for being so lovely to me :( (i know i’m technically late but shhh...) you’ve been so kind to me, and i can’t thank you enough for all the light you’ve brought into my life (both intentionally and inadvertently). and i know i’m not the only one -- you’ve brought life and laughter to so many people’s lives, and i just want you to know how loved and appreciated you are. this was originally planned as a fluffvember piece dedicated to you but Stuff Happened and it never got written and try as i might, this was the most i could drag together in celebration for remy day. i’m so sorry i couldn’t do more, but regardless i hope you had the best day possible :( i adore you

“Osamu,” you huff, butting his arm with your head.

He ignores you.

“Osamu,” you whine, a little louder this time.

He continues to ignore you, moulding a rice ball with both hands.

You duck down and pop back up between his arms.

Osamu bites back a smile this time, but once again – he ignores you.

You know he’s doing it on purpose. He’s not like his brother; he doesn’t get so lost in what he’s doing that he completely loses track of his surroundings. No, he’s doing this to wind you up. Because you’ve made it too obvious that you want his attention.

Although, you don’t usually have to fight for it.

He’s not the kind of guy to spend a lot of his free time ‘doing’ things. Time at home is time to relax. If he wants to play around with recipes, then he’ll just stay an extra hour at work. If he needs to work off some steam, he’ll go to the gym. Time at home is time to relax – or, more aptly put, time to annoy you.

But sometimes, Osamu’ll be consumed by a relentless urge to create. All he wants to do is make new combinations of ingredients, stuffing his onigiri full of stuff that you wouldn’t possibly think would go together. But Osamu seems to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing; even the strangest sounding combinations end up being surprisingly satisfying.

You’re not about to complain about this quirk of his. You’re his trusty taste-tester, the lab rat for all his new creations. That’s quite the honour – one of the benefits of being part of Osamu’s life. The whole ‘having a professional chef prepare you dinner every night’ is also pretty good.

(You joked, once, that the only reason you kept him around was because he was just so damn good at cooking.

He’d been so genuinely pouty about it that for a moment it felt like you were talking to his brother).

But tonight, that stroke of creativity had hit at nine in the evening. And honestly, you can only eat so much rice.

He’s been at it for the past hour or so, throwing together this and that while a gentle Spotify playlist provides ambient noise. It’s the sort of music you’d listen to in an attempt to wind down – something that’s certainly not doing much for your fatigue.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. He’s warm, like he always is. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep as soundly as you do with him next to you. He’s too much of a fixture in your life now. Too much of a comfort.

Osamu chuckles, his thumbs smoothing languid circles over your waist. “It’s only ten at night.”

“I know,” you whine, lifting your head up to look at him.

Frankly, he should be glad you’re tired this early. Kita’s always chided you for your erratic sleep schedule, and Osamu’s been given a talk or two about how he should be looking after you better.

“Osamu,” you huff, pouring all your menace into that one word.

It’s not very effective.

“Hm?” He sounds amused more than anything.

“Please come to bed.”

A familiar grin crosses his face. “Want me that bad, huh?”

You butt his chest with enough force to knock him backwards. “Shut up.”

He’s not wrong, but it’s certainly not what’s on your mind right now. And he knows that.

“Ah, so you’re not denying it,” he grins. Stupid relentless Osamu.

You punch him in the stomach with what might just be the world’s weakest fist.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Osamu chuckles, shaking his head.

You pout up at him, doing your best to look as pitiful as possible.

“You can’t fool me,” he grins.

It’s true. Osamu knows you well; some would say too well. But that’s what you get, being romantically involved for so long. And while he may know you well enough to save himself the burden of feeling guilty in the face of your faux misery, you also have a carefully catalogued library of every lame and embarrassing thing he’s ever said.

It’s a fair enough trade.

One song ends and another begins.

It’s similar in style to the one before – a soft tune, an indistinct voice crooning over the music, a soothing yet bittersweet tone underlying the tune.

Osamu stills, a strange tenderness melting over his face. He slips one arm around your waist, making sure that his hand stays away from your shirt. It’s still covered in the gelatinous residue of the rice.

“Didn’t this play at your sister’s wedding?” He asks softly.

You nod. He remembers that? Hell, it’d taken you a moment to rifle through your (admittedly hazy) memories of that event to try and recall if this song had even been on the playlist.

Osamu reaches for one of your hands, lacing his sticky fingers with yours. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can his other hand slips round to hold your waist.

“But my shirt,” you whine, well-aware that you’re going to have to change it before going to bed. Unless you wanted gritty bits of dried rice to work its way onto your sheets, of course.

“Just borrow one of mine,” Osamu mumbles, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

Your lips are free, but it feels like he’s sealed them shut.

Osamu isn’t a man of many words. But he is a man of gentle touches, quiet moments, little affections you might miss if you’re not watching closely enough.

He pulls you towards him, taking a step away from the kitchen countertop. You almost stumble as you let him lead you in the sway of the music. He’s a bit off beat, but he’s never been very good at keeping to one. You remember having to learn ballroom dancing in P.E.; for all his innate talent at volleyball, Osamu has none for dancing.

If he cares about that, he makes no indication. He just holds you close to him, fingers digging into your waist gently as he moves. You lean into him, resting your cheek against his chest.

The song ambles on, an offbeat soundtrack to this tiny tenderness.

You pull your head back and look up to him.

He’s smiling.

It’s not his usual smile, that lazy, sardonic half-smirk. It’s gentle, fond, loving. It’s a smile you don’t get to see often – and one you certainly don’t get to see in public. But it’s another tiny sign that he loves you; a sign that he trusts you with all his vulnerability, even if he can’t put it into words.

He leans in and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear.

“What about the mess?” You ask, turning to look at the kitchen as if he hadn’t just made your heart race.

There’s rice everywhere, wrapped in seaweed and in bowls and in flecks all over the counter. You’re sure you’ve never seen this much rice before in your whole entire life – and you’ve cooked for Osamu’s high school volleyball team before.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” Osamu says, totally unbothered.

“But ants,” you pout, eyes anxiously scanning the wide variety of perishables strewn over the kitchen. Something’s going to go off by the morning. And that isn’t even accounting for the hoard of uneaten onigiri stacked up in a Tupperware container.

“It’ll be fine,” Osamu shrugs, tugging you out of the kitchen.

“No, it won’t!”

“We haven’t had ants yet.”

“You still shouldn’t leave food out overnight—”

Osamu chuckles, sealing your lips with a kiss. It’s not just any kiss, either; he kisses you exactly how you like to be kissed, in the way that always makes you tick. Unfortunately, it’s an effective way of shutting you up.

Stupid Osamu and his underhanded tricks. He knows just what makes you tick, just how to get under your skin.

But being known is a part of being loved. It means having every little thing about you tucked neatly in someone else’s memory, regardless of if you want it to be or not. Words barely matter. In most cases, they don’t.

It’s a fact you just have to come to terms with.

Osamu already has.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu x you #i don't know what to tag this hh #also peep the next time reference #that's all