#idk how they ended up making movies but they make movies that are forged in deeply weird and wonderful places
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i saw everything everywhere all at once
within the space of a week and a bit the second movie about a mother-daughter relationship in the chinese diaspora. i have to say i think the daniels did it better. they also, i've decided, made swiss army man, which i adore. this is a step up but just as chaotic and beautifully geared towards an emotional climax. it's not sci-fi per se, the multiverse is more or less a gimmick i'd say but it's used well to enhance the themes of the story.
so nice to see harry shum jr turn up for this. also, michelle yeoh my beloved.
#eeaao#everything everywhere all at once#i realised they made swiss army man whilst watching because the energy is so similar in the best way#idk how they ended up making movies but they make movies that are forged in deeply weird and wonderful places#i hope many people see this
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I probably late but I just watch dnd: hat and boy it's sooo great 😭 not to mention finally there's ship that making kicking my feet again
so there's few things I wanna address here which probably already stated by someone else but eh I'll just gonna write it anyway: (watching this completely making me confused all the time but it's in a good way)
Jarnathan actually just random judge they utilize to escape?? ha, I thought it was someone Edgin knows personally
Also the bit where the dragon (?) judge saying they actually accept their plead and the woman screaming jarnathan's name really got me
The dramatic thing where Edgin suddenly throw everything because of his wife's death (it can count as streotypical but idk why I found it interesting how he gonna turns out)
The way Holga helped widowed father with his baby and they practically became siblings and raised Kira with love but of course people still wondering what's their status because they're man and woman
When Forge got escaped and Edgin asked him to take care of his daughter i already suspicious, then Edgin and Holga meet him again later on I thought he was gonna immediately be crazy mf but he act nicely to Kira then he got worse as Forge also manipulating Edgin's daughter to hate his father
When the team got dead end because Simon can't get the helmet to work, I can really feel the desperation (the writing is good)
The way Edgin saying he was Champion of Failure really hurts me oh my god
Oh, I liked how Holga fight scene where she fight without only using her weapon but also other thing surrounds her
Where Simon actually beat himself when about to use the magic helmet again, I didn't expect that actually thinking it was his actual great great grandfather, I also give this one thumbs up for the symbolism and the immediate Edgin gives him proud remarks
When Doric make plans to get into slime cub, I really praise her for that quick thinking by inserting finger out and turning herself into snake to make them escaped
When Holga died and Kira really cried her eyes out and there's flashback where Holga literally raised Kira since she was a little, and she is practically her mother, I'm crying so hard on this. And Edgin finally realized that the mother Kira wants is not Edgin's wife but Holga
Edgin and Holga didn't have romance despite raising child together (good!)
When Holga bite her lips to the little guy who give her medal, i crack up so bad.. she really into that type huh
I actually glad that Doric take Simon into consideration and not sudden romantic things
Overall, like this movie really consistent about the each characters personality I love that
Oh I will make comment about Xenk in other post (also include xedgin)
#dndhat#dnd honor among thieves#dungeons and dragons honor among thieves#dnd movie#edgin darvis#holga#simon aumar#doric#honor among thieves
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Two mini reviews, partly brought to you by tumblr autosaving -
Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas. I wasn't sure what to expect; I really liked The Sunbearer Trials (Ive not yet read the sequel), and DNF'd Lost In The Never Woods because it was the wrong type and intensity of dark and spooky for me at the time. Cemetery Boys is a freaking delight. Maybe my least favourite part was the villain reveal, it made sense but either it wasnt foreshadowed enough or I just wanted better for that character? idk.
But this isnt primarily a plot book, its a romance, and its a story about community and acceptance, and figuring out how you fit into the world when you're not the shape you're expected to be. And it did really well with both those aspects. I also appreciate that with so many stories, real and fictional, about people who have to leave their communities to find themselves, I appreciate a story of someone who never once thinks maybe I need to leave, and instead forges on to create space for himself in his community and his heritage. That's not everyone's story and thats totally fine. Our experiences are diverse and we deserve diverse stories. Its all good.
As for the romance, its really believable. Its quite an opposites-attract situation, from Julian's aggressive queerness and non-issue with Yadriel's transness making his albeit and unexpected presence a breath of fresh air to Yadriel, to their growing understanding of each other's lives and admiration for the strength of each others convictions. (When Julian is upset about his friends and Yadriel nevertheless pauses to set that boundary about ghost-safety, that was hot.).
And the ghost aspect! (this is not a mini review anymore lol). I was not really sure how that was going to go, and then cheering for them, and then wondering what the heck they were gonna do about ongoing ghost-itude and the finiteness of that situation, and actually I really liked how it went. The romance and how they push each other and grow to understand each other is fun, romantic, sexy, heartfelt. Remarkably sexy given that one of them is a ghost who cant be touched. (Spoilers for a sec - the scene on the car where Yadriel reaches for Julian's jacket to pull him closer and there's nothing there to grab? Oh that feels like grief.)
The book is quite a bit about grief. Missing parents, missing support networks, missing opportunities to be yourself and be accepted. Its about a guy who can communicate with ghosts and its set around Dia de Meurtos, there's grief themes.
I also really love Maritza, showing off another aspect of (gender) non-conformity, that its not only trans people who have trouble fitting fairly strict defined roles. (Julian's friends do so similarly).
Almost all the Spanish I picked up from context, but how Julian refers to Yadriel at the end I knew I had to look up that word specifically and oh my heart.
Overall really enjoyed. probably 9/10
second, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off.
I havent read the books/comics, I have seen the movie.
This show....for at least the first half I had no idea what the rules of the universe were or what exactly was going on or what themes exactly were being explored. I was definitely entertained though. The last few episodes manage to make sense of the first few and deliver on those themes in ways I quite liked. I liked that Ramona is the "manic pixie dream girl" and then almost immediately gets upstaged for that role by Envy Addams.
I normally am annoyed at stories in which some boring guy "gets" the manic pixie dream girl and certainly doesn't appreciate her - you know the kind who goes on reddit and complains that she wont stop talking about slugs or decorates their whole house in anime? And I know scott pilgrim is a comment on that trope. I like how its about scott but its not really about scott. Largely its about Ramona and her friends (and her exes). And the others recognise that scott isnt so great, or so smart, and also that if Ramona likes him thats cool. He can be a "lovable idiot" and shes not automatically making a mistake with him. If they're happy they're happy. (and of course the ways that *could* go wrong, but arent destined to).
Plus the music is fun, the visuals are bright and pretty. It might lean overstimulating for some people, I had to stop and think about my spoon levels between episodes.
Thats what I got for today. Two very different fun stories I recommend like 8-9/10, not perfect but a damn good ride.
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I'm in a bit of an in-between period rn of what i'm focusing on writing, so.... do you guys have any preferences what i work on updating next? (no promises, i cannot write on command/ i do not control what daydream we hyperfixate on etc etc but i can at least Work On what you guys vote for) so peruse the list of drafts here, some published, some not quite ready yet, and pick something that sounds intriguing.
propaganda under the cut if you want something a little more descriptive! otherwise you're welcome to ask questions/ leave your reasons in the replies :)
sleep on the floor: angsty road trip, modern au, etc. i made a whole gifset for this and a pretty banger playlist if i do say so myself.
notting hill au: anya is a famous movie star, dmitry is a nobody bookstore owner, and they cross paths randomly one day when anya is hiding from paparazzi, they hit it off right away, but dating is hard. just one chapter is up so far. i gotta decide on something that happens in the film i was thinking about changing but we could write some other things in the meantime
art heist au: unpublished! anya works at a distinguished gallery, a painting from her late parents' collection they thought had been lost in a tragic fire just recently sprung up into the public eye again, but it's being auctioned off soon and anya isn't happy about it, since she thinks it contains the secrets of what really happened to her family. dmitry visits the gallery in attempts to steal it, but she catches him in the act and they decide to strike up a deal-- if he helps her forge a copy, she'll let him have the original to sell once she does more research and sees if it actually ~contains the secrets~ she's looking for. it's about the intrigue, the drama, the mystery, the reluctant alliance turned romance. good stuff. as long as i can figure out a plot structure aslhkdf
post breakup/get back together fic: unpublished. slightly inspired by the song 'if the world was ending,' but instead of an earth quake it's a snow storm and talk of the world ending with the new year. set during new years eve, anya visits him for the first time since they broke up a year ago and Talk about things that happened, interwoven with some flashbacks of their relationship from beginning to end. i also made another banger playlist for this guy.
equestrian au: dmitry and vlad are show jumping trainers down on their luck, anya is the new stablehand dmitry finds sleeping in the stall with her ugly horse (pooka <3). but when vlad decides her hidden talent is worth sculpting into a refined show jumping career, the three of them team up to make it to the FEI world cup in Paris, where Marie Feodorovna will be watching and contributing to the winning purse. maybe anya will find the home love family she's looking for idk.
crazy rich asians au: inspired by the movie, but without the hazing and the drama and the angst, so it's mostly just a meet the parents au of a sort with some nice and fluffy established dimya. anya's sister is getting married and she wants to use the event as a way to introduce dmitry, her long time bf, to the family. dmitry is excited about potentially asking for the Family Ring (👀) and leaving new york for the first time to visit the homeland (would the wedding be in russia? or would they get married in the french riviera or something a bit warmer?) until he figures out just how wealthy anya's family is. he knew she came from wealth, but not quite to this extent, and gets a little insecure about it. shenanigans ensue.
#my writing#fanfiction#polls#wip#these aren't all of my wips but these are the ones i've been kind of rotating around in my mind#dimya
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Ooo okay SO-
Skid and Pump being Light and Void works really well for them, conflicting aspects that balance each other out and benefit them both - Pump as a Seer is amazing and fits with him being the first character shown to be Stars'd and the unlock of Weird Supernatural Knowledge as a result
Skid as an Heir also has the double meaning of him being the "heir" to the cult, if his dad actually was the leader of it
Roy as a Thief is perfect, riling up others to make him feel better about himself. I could see his "quest" being him learning how to use it constructively
Ross as a Mind player is interesting -- he'd probably end up as the sort of "guide", stealing the information the group needs to actually complete the game
Susie as a Heart player. Yes. In classic Homestuck fashion, the heart on her shirt can even serve as foreshadowing to her role
Don't have much to say about Robert or Ethan, theirs seem fitting. I bet Ethan would have a laugh about the "made of doom" pun tho
Kevin absolutely fits as a Page, and it brings the idea of him having to reach his potential somehow. Also it's like the game itself is telling him to get a Life which I think is funny and VERY fitting for him
Mage of Space Streber... yeah that tracks. Especially with Space, Streber leads with the creation of the Genesis Frog, fiddling with them like his inventions until they're perfect. Him being a Mage also fits with how both of the canon Mages lost something but still do their things without it
Radford as a Prince of Time... ohohoho, now that's interesting. Him feeling like he's "running low on time" could factor into how he plays, worried that they won't have enough time to make the frog and stoke the forge, or that somehow he's going to do something that will doom them all.
The thought of Time could also be related to his family, like not having enough time to spend with them, not wanting them to grow up so soon, or maybe even the fear of his little sister not having much time left, if she has a series illness and wasn't just sick with a cold or something
There's also the more silly connection of him loving movies, which are Timeless
love all this analysis, there are actually a couple things i hadn't even considered in here! some bullet points for other stuff to go with these:
all of the characters have a counter to their aspect - skid n pump being Light and Void, rob and roy as Hope and Rage, etc. the only pair not included is breath and blood... hm. guess we'll see if there are any other characters to incorporate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
there are also several class combos here - ross n roy being Rogue and Thief, streber n pump being Mage and Seer, etc. could result in some interesting duos combat wise, as well as some unlikely friendships!
on a similar note, the Knight is always supposed to help protect the Space player. susie n streber friendship arc!! (for the record im not changing any ages. highschoolers can be friends with adults sue me)
kevin absolutely hates his godtier outfit. Like, hell no. And he has to wear it in front of the kids AND his crush(es)?? hells to the no!!!! he grabs a spare pair of pants asap (also I almost made him a Bard of Doom... that would be so much worse LOL)
ross, being a rogue, would steal knowledge directly from the sprites. which is how he learns about all the stuff we know as observers (class/aspect pairs, active vs passive, etc.) this is also how he figures out how to godtier. susie is the one to point out that "hey, if we don't all godtier, we'd have to watch more people we care abt die and that would be Bad". so their main overall quest for a while would prolly be to get everyone to godtier
im stealing ur idea for roys quest it makes sense i love it
radford was at work when he had to play sburb, idk where susie/pump were but they were separated (skid n pump werent hangin out either tho). rob has his sister with him at home. his parents, along with susie's parents, will never be seen again - they got left behind. surviving parents/guardians/family r abuelo wonder, lila, ross's parents, roy's parents, rob's sister, and ethan's fam. they got lucky. the only guardians to die during the game r roy's parents and maybe abuelo wonder
yea rad is paranoid asf lmao poor guy (<- continues making up angst scenarios for him)
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Past Life 🪡 Karmic Spread January 2024 - Virgo
Character Card: The Merchant (both)
Gender I’m Picking Up On (in the past life): Male
Who You Were: Knight of Swords rev & The Lovers
What You Did: 5 Wands
How It Ended: 8 Swords, 9 Wands, King of Wands & The Devil
What Karma Was Brought With You: 7 Cups
Who You Brought With You: Page of Cups, 6 Swords & Ace of Cups
Additional energy: The Star
Past Life Oracle: Mother (past), Imprisonment & Slavery (both), The Arts (present)
Dreaming Way: Clouds & Coffin (past), Fish (present)
Charm:
Spider 🕷️ on King of Wands
Hamsa 🪬 (down) on Mother
Black Squirrel 🐿️ on Imprisonment
Peace ☮️ on 7 Cups
Intelligent ♊️ on The Arts
Our first murderer of this string of readings! Sounds worse than it is. Apply that to your whole life. Did you kill someone, yes, and your entire past life identity was forged on that day, but you never knew it would become that or that this would be a weight you would carry for the rest of your life, right on into this one.
I get this being the US, and not that long ago, you were someone who came right back, same energy, same person essentially, except you’re not. Both lives are shown as The Merchant, you could have Libra prominently in your chart. I was getting the 1950s and the phrase “crimes of passion” kept repeating on a loop. Apparently that’s a movie, that I now have to see. I couldn’t find anything about a specific person, and now I’m not sure if I’m in the right time period at all or if it’s the movie itself they wanted me to find - to help describe your energy here. That’s what this was, you killed your wife’s lover, and it wasn’t planned, you weren’t a normally violent sort of person, there was zero thought put into this whatsoever. In fact, you were a pretty happy person, the sort with their head in the clouds, you didn’t pay close attention to things, you weren’t mistrustful, you thought everything was as it should be…and when you learned it wasn’t, there was a huge scene, a huge fight, and it’s being described as “tearing your family apart”. Or that was your children’s perception, you were the villain, and they became estranged from you after you went to prison.
Whoever this lover was, you knew them well, probably trusted them, they show up with 3 Pentacles. This could be a coworker, friend, neighbor, someone from church idk, you had a good relationship with them and probably wouldn’t think twice about this person being in your home. Could’ve been a handyman or someone that worked for you as well. You spent your life after this in prison, and died there, with thoughts of this person and what was done, justifying your actions to yourself, forever spinning in a loop in your mind. To you this was Justice, throw you in jail or not, come visit you or not, see you as the villain or not, you stood by your actions 💯 You were the victim here.
You have a very similar temperament in this life, it feels like you came right back. With Black Squirrel and imprisonment in both lives, once it was literally in prison, you had nothing to do BUT think of all of the intricate planning, deceptions, lies, everything you’d missed before you knew the truth, and those things festered in your mind obsessively. You still do that, all of the time, only over negative things. You collect them, store them in your brain, and obsess over every negative thing that’s ever said or done to you. There’s a level of paranoia and anxiety here, you keep yourself trapped in prison still, in your mind, even though you don’t live there anymore, and may not understand why “you’re like this”. Life feels…fake? Like something you’re forced to take part in, you’re not an active participant in anything that makes you feel good, it’s more of a forced engagement and constant negative judgements or perceptions about whatever you’re forced to do, who you’re forced to interact with. A doctor would probably diagnose you with something but it runs deeper than that. I am seeing one could help you if you want to feel more at ease, there are medicines that can help with that, if your pride can stand the diagnosis that comes with it. Is it karmic, yes, but they make pills for that too 🙃
The reason I bring that up at all is because your identity here is 7 Cups & Peace ☮️ meaning you’re unable to find peace, you don’t feel fulfilled by anything, and you don’t know what to do about it. It’s a feeling of being lost, you’re not, but you’re not happy, and you’re not sad, and you don’t know why you’re so negative all of the time. Or you don’t even realize that you’re this way, it’s always been this way. Medicine & mental health professionals can bring you peace, maybe not for your whole soul, but for the day to day which is what you need 🙏 I’m seeing looping thoughts over and over, fear and paranoia, jumping to conclusions, knee jerk reactions, heavy judgmental criticism, and you need to feel free of that, content, relaxed, working your way to actual fulfillment and happiness. Quit collecting all of the things you hate, in your mind, and start focusing on what you love, even if it’s a cup of tea and a tv show, your morning yoga routine, whatever. I’m hearing yoga could be good for you too.
In the past, your children left you behind, I’m not sure how old they were when this happened, some may not have known you well to begin with. Dad works, he’s gone until dinner, they’re like two, this life in prison was all they remembered or knew. I’m getting you had several children with Hamsa, five maybe, but the focus in this life seems to be the youngest of them - in the past, “the baby”. Or they could be a baby/young right now. They could have a significant Pisces placement, doesn’t have to be that, they’re just shown as the Fish & Page of Cups cards. The circumstances of this child are either a one night stand, leaving one person for another and a child gets wrapped up in that somehow, giving them up for adoption perhaps, because when this happens, you don’t want to get “stuck” or trapped to something. You just don’t want this, or aren’t prepared, maybe even a child yourself at the time. You may not know them at all, may not be involved, or it’s possible you don’t even know they exist. Whatever it is, in the past they “left you” and in this life you left them, but they’ve been your child twice.
The Arts are showing one of two things: Either there is an artist showing up as your lover, maybe a past lover, that’s never going to go anywhere, could be a Gemini. If not that, you could be very creative, possibly with writing, specifically when it comes to romance related things - but you don’t take any action to actually have that in your real life. Possibly a fanfic creator, extremely imaginative when those mental powers are used for positive & not trapped in the negative, you’re highly intelligent regardless. You’re meant to heal relationships with your family - The Star. There could be abandonment issues there, you avoid them, or feel they avoid you, if there’s a child in the mix they’re included. 10 Cups is what makes you feel overflowing with love, joy, happiness, and part of your negativity is a lack of this, which seems to stem from family. You feel as abandoned in this life as you did the last one, but in this one some of that may have been your own choice, avoidance, leaving before you’re left type of energy. Self-sabotage. Focus on love 🩷 But that also shows that it can be yours, peace, happiness, family, all of these things, you’re meant to let the heaviness go. The Merchant is balanced, fair, in the past life it was about Justice for you, and it still is, but a different kind. Your own Justice is seeing what’s not serving you, cutting it out/off and letting go, moving towards what you deserve and makes you happy - what you “should” do, the right thing - whatever that is for you.
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f g p r from the fanfic ask game? please?
Hey bestie 🥰 thanks so much for the ask this one took me awhile lol
G - Do you write your story from start to finish? or out of order?
i like writing things from start to finish. key word: like. my brain, however, likes to jump ahead to specific scenes and events. i used to fight that bit and force myself to forge on along and wait until i finally made it to that part in the story.
lmao that was a horrible idea. those scenes would continue to haunt me and pester me until i finally give up and wrote them. so i just stop fighting it and write out of order. (honestly it was a blessing for me to decide to make my lmk one-shot series not in chronological order bc then i’d never get it done lol
it’s why my writing can get slow sometimes because while writing the chapter for the next event, i’ll be hit with some scene 2 chapters later or 3 scenes after some confrontation i haven’t started yet!!! i have ch7 for the dr geyer fic. it’s in my docs but i haven’t finished it bc someone *looks at brain* wants to write more of s6b bc Theo’s in that one >:(
P - Are you what George RR Martine would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance vs letting the story unfold as you go?)
you know, i know i read of this before like years ago but i don’t remember it lol. had to look it up to make sure i was understanding this right.
so… i think it depends?
with my merlin multi-chap fic and my medieval fantasy wip i plan those in advance. the merlin fic? i have that 1st arc’s plot down, i know where the story will lead to, i even know which characters i’ll keep alive or keep dead.
with my one-shots (and my one-shots that chose to say “fuck you”), those are a spur of the moment kind of writing. i had something playing in my head that’s wants to be free, so i write it down and pray that it’s satisfied (it typically is not which is why you see a lot of my one-shots become multi-chapters or one-shot series). these don’t have a solid plan when i begin. i tend to come up with it as the plot comes together.
tbh this works well with my fics bc i have a base outline: the actual show/book/movie. with my dr geyer fic, i know where s5-6 begin and end. sure, i’m choosing what gets to happen in-between, but i at least have the comfort of that base. the lmk series? it’s literally just me plugging in an oc and forcing a couple characters to air-out their issues.
R - Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
oh definitely. tbh my main one would have to be Lemony Snicket. fell in love with the narration of those stories. the snark, the personality, the vocabulary, the inner dialogue. idk it just did something to 9 year old me lol
another big one i’d have to say is Branden Sanderson. not really his writing, but how complex and beautiful his worlds are. i didn’t know that you could create and capture the essence such beautiful worlds in writing but reading his books and seeing them come to life really influenced my desire to write and design fantastical worlds or even just explore snippets of other worlds like BBC Merlin Albion.
F - Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it
babe, i’m so sorry but it took me forever to choose. i debated on whether i should do lmk or teen wolf or abc merlin or even shit i haven’t posted bc i love too many of these T^T
but dw i did find one (it’ll be under the cut bc this got long jfc). i giggled a lot when writing it just because the back and forth with Liam and Mason interjecting was fun. also i picked this one to prove the dr geyer fic hasn’t been forgotten. i’ve just been….preocupied and going feral over immortal monkeys
*
“I’m not here to start anything,” Mr. Doughlas said to them calmly. “I just want the mountain ash barrier open, mh?”
“Yeah, because this isn’t starting anything,” Liam growled.
Mr. Douglas smiled, sharp teeth in full display. Again, he twisted his claws in the chimera. Theo, again, kept quiet. The only indication he was in any being came from his winces. Liam can’t tell if he should be impressed or horrified that getting stabbed in the spine barely got a reaction out of Theo.
“This is simply a contingency. I just want the barrier open, then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise. No funny business.”
Theo chuckled (well, more like gurgled) and snorted.
“Says the Nazi.”
Douglas drove his claws further into Theo’s spine, polite smile cracking, in response. The chimera grunted, but Theo just laughed again.
“Sorry, sorry.” Theo’s smirk looked almost deranged with the blood coating his lips. “Nazi was the insult others threw at you, right?”
“He’s a Nazi?!” Mason shrieked.
Doughlas sighed, all politeness disappearing as he addressed them all.
“Must we obsess over my previous occupation? I don’t see how this is important. I was just a soldier there.”
“Oh yeah, being a part of a genocidal fascist group should totally be overlooked!” Liam exclaimed. “Not like you were involved in and advocated for any of that!”
“Yeah, it adds nothing for us to even slightly trust you,” Mason added.
#thanks for the ask!#asks#fanfic ask game#long post#yeah it was F that was giving me trouble lol I wanted to pick so many T^T#dr geyer fic
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DAMN this is truly forbidden...
MOTHER FUCKER. i might literally just have to post it as a tumbly post. under the readmore i guess
flower: been having small daydreams abt heathers slash fic
queen robyn: heather?
flower: heathers
flower: the hit 1989 movie starring winona ryder and christian slater
queen robyn: never heard of it
flower: mean girls if mean girls was good + included murder
queen robyn: oh fuck
flower: i wanna watch it as a family before we do the monsterhearts thing
flower: it's a REALLY dark comedy
queen robyn: pffffft ok but "watch it as a family" is legit
queen robyn: the CUTEST thing you ever said
flower: not as cute as my unwritten heathers slash fic
flower: where heather chandler doesn't die but instead has a gay crisis involving veronica
queen robyn: kill her with love
flower: and heather macnamara and heather duke hook up on the side
queen robyn: and maybe some casual feeding
queen robyn: theres multiple heathers?
queen robyn: well, i guess its in the name
flower: yeah they're all named heather
flower: heather chandler, heather duke, heather macnamara and veronica sawyer
flower: veronica gets to hang out with them mostly because she's really good at forging handwriting
queen robyn: and theyre popular girls so im sure theyre all brats
flower: of course they are
flower: Veronica's not but she hangs out with them and like
flower: is complacent in brattiness
flower: ive never seen jawbreaker but it has the same plot as heathers im p sure (accidental murder) but there's a line in it where the popular girls are gonna find someone, tie her to the flagpole and 'stuff her pretty face with pancakes'
flower: so what if the heathers @ veronica
queen robyn: SWEATS
flower: at some point veronica wrongs the heathers somehow bc she's not cool enough
flower: and they threaten to undo her on monday
queen robyn: omg…theyre ALL feeders
flower: so over the weekend she makes a big deal of it and has sex w/ a school shooter and heather c dies because of it but what if she just waited until Monday and got tied up and fed to bursting and then one of the heathers (im not picky) had a weird gay crisis looking at her all stripped down and stuffed up
queen robyn: she should have sex with the gay heather instead while shes tied and stuffed ideally
flower: a) all heathers are gay b) tru
flower: MORE fuel for the fire:
flower: in the musical (ambiguous in the movie) veronica is rly good friends w/ a girl named martha and martha is FAT
queen robyn: omg…..
flower: and unpopular because of it
flower: and
flower: in the heathers' big song there's a line
flower: "keep on testing me, and end up like her"
flower: veronica and martha's friendship surviving is the happy ending and thats rly good
queen robyn: awwww i like that
flower: but like
queen robyn: we can go gayer
flower: i love the heathers
flower: and at least one of the heathers is really into veronica and has no idea how to act about it
queen robyn: veronica let tied up in the gym at night, probably blindfolded, and gayest heather swings in without saying anything, just so she can kiss and stuff veronica more
flower: omg
flower: im gonna go with yes
flower: MAN
queen robyn: :33 you liked that huh?
flower: i like my high school gays fucked up lowkey
flower: brats -> bad rude arrogant teens
queen robyn: define fucked up in this instance
flower: like leaving your weird animosity-crush tied up in the gym overnight
flower: cruel ? idk
queen robyn: nice
queen robyn: pretty cruel
flower: i love weird fucked up complicated lesbians
flower: jealousy-power-crush
flower: when you said swing i pictured literally like spiderman
queen robyn: omfg
queen robyn: i mean, if you want fucked up teens
flower: heather duke the cheerleader just like trapiseing in to where veronica is tied up
queen robyn: probably snapping pics too honestly
flower: she's taunting and bragging about how everyone in the school is gonna see her like this
flower: but she keeps them
queen robyn: ok, so i havent seen the movie but what if all the heathers have real similar voices, so veronica cant tell which heather is tormenting her the most
queen robyn: and this heather does more than tie her up like
flower: biting
flower: WEIRD head game shit
queen robyn: maybe she positions veronica so shes like, almost face down and forced to eat a cake or fucking biting that shits fun af too
flower: face down in a cake, bite ass
queen robyn: fucking squeeze her boobs, call her a fat pig
flower: veronica: squirm
flower: heather: SQUIRM
queen robyn: spanking even
queen robyn: or hair pulling
flower: tbh i bet the school has like
flower: a paddle
flower: for special cases
queen robyn: …im gonna call you out on that part later
queen robyn: but lets say theres a paddle
flower: WHAT
queen robyn: but heathers already bit the ass
flower: it was the 80s they still did that
queen robyn: oh, true
flower: bite ass, leave bruise
queen robyn: bruises for sure
queen robyn: maybe bruises from grabbing those thighs real hard too~
flower: those thighs w/ a little softness on them but nothing compared to what heather has in mind for her
flower: one heather dumps her another adopts her
queen robyn: omg until they get to the queen who likes them huge
flower: gay high school mental torture
queen robyn: fucking love mental torture ngl
flower: veronica messed up the power dynamic among the heathers and now theyre trying to rebalance and taking it out on veronica's figure
queen robyn: omg yesssss!
flower: but veronica is getting laid like EVERY NIGHT so shes not struggling a ton
flower: like some for sure
flower: its fucked up but
flower: maybe she likes the attention
queen robyn: omg yes. maybe people find out how much shes sleeping around (but never with WHO) so she gets this reputation for being a slut but really shes with these three heathers
flower: i mean theyre all doing all these horribly humiliating things to her people are bound to find SOMETHING out
queen robyn: i think finding her in the gym, tied up, covered in cake with her panties down her still tied legs would say enough
flower: dont forget her grossly bloated belly
queen robyn: the school probably TRIED to do something but veronica is like "no i have uh…a boyfriend. were kinky." and deflects any kind of charges
queen robyn: oh that too! even though its the following morning
flower: who knows what time a heather came to visit her
queen robyn: 4 am
queen robyn: just when veronica fell asleep and thought she was safe-ish
flower: yeah like
flower: ok im tied up in my underwear in the gym
flower: this is pretty bad
flower: i'll be found in the morning tho
flower: hopefully not by a student
queen robyn: better try to sleep to at least get some rest
queen robyn: but nope
flower: before dawn, someone creeps in
flower: and all veronica can guess is 'heather?' before she gets her mouth stuffed fulla cake
queen robyn: omg yes
flower: the heather in question is bound to be talking nonstop just stream of consciousness
flower: going between 'you fat pig' and 'you deserve this' to 'why am i doing this' and 'what is it about you' and 'this is your fault probably'
queen robyn: ….omfg i fucking love it???
flower: weird insecure heather trying to justify the fact that shes just gay + mean
queen robyn: with like, rough making out. very forceful, very toothy
flower: biting in weird and painful spots
flower: like
flower: right where the butt meets the thigh
queen robyn: omg yes
queen robyn: or around the boobs
queen robyn: not even on the boob like
flower: sideboob bite
queen robyn: veronicas given in, she wants some nippleplay at LEAST
queen robyn: and heathers biting the underside of the boob
flower: veronica's diary mostly looks like "?????!!!!!!!??!!?!??!?!?!?!?!!??!!!?!" for a couple pages
flower: so does heathers
queen robyn: maybe thats why veronica keeps hanging out with the heathers like
queen robyn: she doesnt know which one it is, so shes hanging out with all of them and get back with the mystery heather
flower: and all the heathers lowkey can't get enough of her
flower: heather duke has terrible gay urges but she cant make it REALLY bad for veronica because the other two heathers will come to veronica's defense
queen robyn: her defense or to the defense to their claims on her? like they all want the right to say that veronica is THEIR bitch
flower: what if veronica (she's savvy) starts picking up on some of this weird dynamic
flower: and starts kinda stirring shit up passively
flower: like
queen robyn: like playing favorites whenever she helps them cheat
flower: what if she wears like
flower: a collar to school one day
flower: and heather chandler just can't make eye contact w/ her
queen robyn: I DIDNT WANT TO GO THERE BUT YOURE MAKING ME GO THERE HUH???
flower: hee hee
flower: ok heather c is a hard domme you wanna hear her song
flower: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQOoTX1Nxx8 its a rly good song + its sung at veronica + i think the dance includes lots of hip thrusting
queen robyn: she sounds like the type to use her daddys (or even worse, her bf's) money on a dominatrix outfit just for veronica, who of course, cant see
queen robyn: what if the candy store is also partly literal and they stuff veronica with so much candy
flower: ice cream and chocolate syrup and cake and gummies until she can barely stand, even though shes tied to the flagpole
queen robyn: theres a sign that says "FAT PIG" around her neck
flower: previously-flat stomach swollen and tight and bulging against the ropes
flower: maybe they just write it on her chest w/ lipstick
flower: and they leave her there to get found basically but one heather sneaks back and gives her a rough kiss and then runs away w/o a word
flower: and then shes just left tied to the flagpole on a saturday morning, cold, nauseous, bloated and kinda turned on
queen robyn: stuff her all weekend long
flower: if you make heather c have gay thoughts she'll tie you up somewhere public and force-feed you carbs until you're about to puke/burst
flower: but then she gets more gay thoughts
flower: so who is the real loser here
queen robyn: you are for wanting it even more
flower: hair pulling, force feeding, bondage, humiliation,
flower: veronica that's a free gf
flower: honestly by punishing veronica like that heather's just exposing her weakness
queen robyn: willing victims of fucked up sexy shenanigans?
flower: which can only prompt veronica to dress gayer
flower: and Veronica's not admitting she's into it (she is) shes trying to pull a power play by continuously turning heather on in front of her clique
flower: not so bulletproof
queen robyn: what if it blows up in veronicas face though and her gay dressing turns on ALL the heathers?
flower: of course it does
flower: in different ways
flower: u KNOW that heather wants heather to step on her
flower: so if Veronica's showing up in ripped jeans and belly shirts and collars all the heathers are gonna start getting ideas
flower: heather c is too rattled to be the full icy bitch she usually is, heather d is jealous/attracted and heather m is trying not to accidentally call veronica 'mommy'
flower: and that's how you power bottom
queen robyn: …omfg
flower: every time a heather loses control and does something fucked up to her she becomes more powerful
flower: it's way worse if she can get a heather alone in public
flower: cause then there's no heathers to back them up/reinforce the cruelty
flower: Veronica's rep is already ruined she's ready to go full gay
flower: and ruin the heathers with her
queen robyn: flower im too weak…
queen robyn: this is too good
flower: Ripped Clothes
queen robyn: too weak D:
flower: futch sawyer really gaying it up around the heathers and making them all quietly lose it
flower: veronica in a letterman jacket and a rly tight blouse underneath
flower: pushing the heathers insecure, gay little buttons even tho when one of them snaps it's another ambush and force-feeding for her to look forward to
queen robyn: its like a reward for unleashing their gay
flower: the more she teases them, slowly, the softer and curvier she gets
flower: and idk if you've ever seen a curvy girl who dresses boyishly but it's extremely hot
flower: even though it's heather holding the stack of pancakes and shoveling them into Veronica's mouth and making her eat three days worth of calories in under an hour,
flower: it's veronica who's really in control
0 notes
Text
no longer
Juyeon had opened your eyes to worlds undiscovered, and together, the two of you transversed universes and galaxies, forging memories, creating art, sculpting beauty itself. Magical could not even begin to describe Juyeon. He was enigmatic, unique, exquisite. And most importantly, he was yours.
Until he wasn’t.
-pairing: lee juyeon x reader
-genre: ex! juyeon, angst, angst, angst, idk kinda fulfilling in a way??
-warnings: there is a mention of a blade and cuts (its figurative there are no acts of self harm in this fanfic) but please don’t read if it makes you uncomfy! ; a little bit of foul language; lotta tears; this is lowkey stupid but i say that about all my fics lmao
-word count: 4741 words
-A/N: yooooo its like been ten million yearssss. i know yall are really patiently waiting for rent a boyfie (ty) but i’ll only be regularly updating once my exams are over (in like mid nov) so hang tight until then<3 in the meantime, i’ll be posting stand-alone fics + hopefully will start writing for other groups (txt, enhypen, seventeen, nct, p1harmony???) in my free time! anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one because its one hell of a ride (and its kinda stupid idk)
————
Life does not give you lemons. Whoever said that was seriously insane, or sick. No, life gives you curveball after curveball. It is like a high school dodgeball competition except the competition doesn't ever end and the balls— otherwise known as unnecessarily annoying problems— move according to their own will, programmed only to hit you down so hard that you will never again have the courage to get back up.
But sometimes, life misses. And this rang true for you when the heavens had decided to take pity on your shitty life and gift you with the angel, Lee Juyeon.
Truly, Juyeon had appeared out of the clear blue, like a serendipitous epiphany, and the time that you had spent with him was nothing short of exhilarating. The two of you would sneak out of your dorms, giggling like school children out of bed way past midnight as you made your way into closed spaces, breaking into swimming pools for pool parties for two; sneaking into movie theatres with scripts of your own; breaking into private beaches to play and lay in the sand for hours as the two of you mapped stars and constellations, memorised where different satellites were and witnessed every phase of the moon.
Nothing could ever describe how Juyeon lit you up. It started with a small flame, one akin to the ever-flickering glow of a candle. And then it spread, and spread, and spread, lighting a ferocious inferno in you, burning every organ in its wake, refusing to die down no matter how much water you poured onto it, and filling you up with so much love, your heart was bursting from the seams, utterly unable to contain the sheer adoration you held for this man.
He had opened your eyes to worlds undiscovered, and together, the two of you transversed universes and galaxies, forging memories, creating art, sculpting beauty itself. Magical could not even begin to describe Juyeon. He was enigmatic, unique, exquisite. And most importantly, he was yours.
Until he wasn't.
It's been five years since then. You'd never thought you would ever see him again unless you closed your eyes. But here he is, in the flesh, right across the table from you.
Glasses clink, music, laughter and chatter blend together in a marvellous cacophony that you cannot seem to hear. You can sense the smiles around you as dresses and accessories and jobs are shown off. Behind Juyeon, people dance idiotically and in your periphery, you can see the white dollops of frosting that decorate the unnecessarily massive cake. Everything happens at once and yet, you cannot seem to take your eyes off Juyeon.
Your sister's wedding was supposed to be joyous and exciting. You were excited for it. Now, not so much. How could you have not known that your sister's husband's best friend is Juyeon? Your mind flashes back to the two years you and Juyeon meant something to each other and you wonder how many times he had mentioned the name of your brother-in-law, only for it to slip your mind every time. You cannot help but wonder if your inattentiveness is one of the reasons that drove Juyeon away, if your sheer passion for art that had caused you to not listen to others around you had eventually caused Juyeon to grow tired of you, frustrated with having to repeat things every time.
Juyeon looks exactly as he did five years ago. He still laughs the same, smiles the same, eats the same. He still has that habit of his where he keeps his eyes half-closed so that he doesn't have to use up so much energy just to keep them open. When he had first told you this, you had laughed in disbelief, thinking he was pulling a fast one on you. But after he mentioned it, you began to realise that it was true. It has become a habit for him to keep his eyes mostly shut. And you would only see the sheer vastness of his eyes twice.
After you had seen his eyes in its whole, fully-opened glory, you liked that he had this habit. It was almost as if it was instinctive, like his body was protecting, shielding, hiding away the pure beauty of his brown irises and the twinkling constellations they held. You would yearn for him to look at you like that again, trying everything in your power to get him to that level of unadulterated rapture. He would only look at you like that once more; the day before he left
The only thing that's noticeably different about Juyeon now is his haircut and her.
You like his haircut better now. It leaves his hair long and though it is styled up and away from his eyes, you imagine that when it is down and damp after a shower, his thick black locks would fall into his eyes breathtakingly. Back in university, he had this undercut and he always put up his hair. It accentuated his jaw and made the planes of his face seem much sharper, and though he was everything but, it somehow made Juyeon look scary. Now, he looks soft, warm. His jaw is still chiselled but you imagine that if you were to shove your face into the crook of his neck, just under his jaw, you would sink in like maple syrup.
The girl he brought has pretty doe eyes and you know for a fact that that was the first thing he noticed about her. Once upon a time, you had asked Juyeon what the first thing he noticed about a person was. He told you he always looked at peoples' eyes first. He always did tell you he liked the almond shape of your eyes and the way they always showed how you were feeling.
And Juyeon may have liked how your eyes looked but he has never looked quite so taken while looking at you. As their conversation continues, Juyeon's new girl smiles and laughs at jokes made and you watch as he melts, pupils dilating in awe and wonder as he gazes at his girlfriend with such love, you feel a part of yourself wither away.
How is it that it has been five years since Juyeon left you and yet you still cannot seem to forget anything about him?
You watch as his hand reaches for his girlfriend's under the table, no doubt to give her hand a squeeze. He always did love to hold your hands. It was like he couldn't help himself.
The nerves in your hand tingle with recognition even after all these years, and your skin warms as every cell in your body remembers the touch of Juyeon. Your heart rate picks up in familiarity and you sense the shallowing of your breaths. You remember, with crystal lucidity, him and his touch and the way your body always reacted to the feel of him; like he is electricity and you are water.
A small, sorrowful smile tilts the corners of your lips up as you reminisce the moments you shared with Juyeon and your mind wanders, bringing up the question you have been asking yourself incessantly since his departure: where did it all go wrong?
You know you have been staring too long when Juyeon's eyes dart up to meet yours, brown irises filling your vision instead of his side profile. You jump a little in surprise and you almost immediately look away, vision darting around the room before you decide to focus on your sister as she goes about the different tables, striking up conversations with her guests. You only look back when Juyeon rises from his seat and sends you a look when your eyes meet, excusing himself to the bathroom with a kiss to his girlfriend's cheek. Your cheek burns when your skin remembers the sensation and you shoot up from your seat, walk out of the dining hall and into the significantly quieter corridor.
When you find Juyeon waiting against a wall in the corridor, you are not surprised.
He sends you a smile that barely reaches his eyes as he says, "I guess our telepathy still works."
Your mind flashes back to the multiple times the two of you would finish each other's sentences. You remember that one time when you were going to ask Juyeon to buy coffee on his way to your house. Just as you were going to call him, he opened your door, two cups of coffee in hand. The two of you laughed about it for as long as you were each other's.
You do not reply to his comment, choosing to stay silent as you move to lean beside him against the wall, staring at the lifts as a few people pass the two of you in the corridor from the toilets.
"You look nice," he breaks the silence, turning to you with a heartwarming smile. You glance at him, feeling your cheeks and palms grow hot with embarrassment. How is it that he can still get this kind of reaction from you? You should be way over him by now. It's been fucking five years for heaven's sake. Why are you the only one still hung up on this?
"Thank you. You do too," you manage to reply despite the lump in your throat. You want to go home. You do not want to be in such close proximity with Juyeon, and yet you somehow want to get closer to him, until you can feel his heart beating against your palms, until you can feel his warm skin against your own. Juyeon's girlfriend's smile invades your thoughts, and you feel like the worst person in the world.
"How was England?" you ask.
Part of the reason why Juyeon left was because he was going to flight school in England. He had always told you that he wanted to become a pilot and not rot in some arts major. He always said that he was wasting his life in university doing art. And it was you who had ultimately convinced him to apply to flight school in England. You wanted to watch him grow, to be truly happy with what he was doing, to love his life instead of spending his life resenting himself, and to be there with him when he finally took the big leap of faith. If you had known him getting into flight school in a country across the world would tear both of you apart, you would have thought twice about convincing him. You think that you still would have convinced him to apply. But maybe, you would have talked about it with him more. And maybe, you could have prepared yourself more for your inevitable parting.
"It was fine," he replies, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Felt like I was missing something."
Your lips part at his words— his confession and you know exactly what he means as soon as he says it. I missed you. I regret letting you go.
"So you're a pilot now?" You chance a glance at Juyeon and immediately regret it because he is looking right at you. Your gaze shoots down to your heels and you feel the side of your face burn with Juyeon's gaze.
"Yeah," Juyeon replies with a small laugh. "You should have seen the places I've been. I went to Paris with—" he continues but stops himself short, realising too late that he was going to talk about his new girlfriend. Five years ago, when you and Juyeon would fantasise about him becoming a pilot before the two of you went to sleep, you always told him you wanted to go to Paris with him.
And though your heart breaks at the fact that someone else is living your dream, you smile. "That's amazing, Juyeon. Where else have you been?"
Juyeon hesitates for a second, eyes scanning your face as you smile up at him. Tidal waves of memories flood his brain and he remembers when you would look at him with this exact expression time and time again, eyes glinting with curiosity, smile small but sweet, a taste that melts on his tongue in golden, sugary gratification. A taste he tastes on his tongue at this moment. He smiles.
"Greece, Rome; I've seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person. It's as amazing as you'd think it would be. I went to Stonehenge too. I've been to all these places. It's amazing. The world is so big," he relays to you with childlike wonder twinkling in his eyes, tone excited as he tells you of his wonderful, breathtaking adventures. It feels like he is an adventurer and he'd been away from home for aeons, exploring the world, dissecting it layer by layer and finding out every single little detail, and now, he's come back to you with stories that could go on for millennia.
You let Juyeon talk you into a stupor, until you are drunk and dazed from his wondrous stories from around the world, his voice warm and low and soft, like he doesn't quite want anyone else to hear, saving his wondrous tales for only you. Your heart lifts for the first time since this wedding started and your chest warms with familiarity and affection. You really want to give him a hug.
"What about you?" is what snaps you from your daze, gaze lifting from his lips to his eyes. You didn't even know you were zoning out while staring at his lips. Your cheeks heat in the slightest but you will yourself to stay sane.
"What about me?" you bounce the question back to him. You don't quite know what his sentence before that was and you don't know what he wants to hear from you. Because what about you? You've been in this town since he left. You've been empty since he left. You've been barely surviving since he left. You've just been existing. Juyeon had been living a life he'd always dreamed. But you were teaching art to teenagers who could care less, utterly unsure what to do with a stupid art degree. You were talented enough to be an artist, but not talented enough to be recognised. You simply were. What could he possibly want to hear?
"What have you been up to?"
Thinking about you; about how all of me that I knew left when you did, missing you, wondering when you would come and take me back, wondering how our love had become so weak that you knew it could not possibly last the vast distance between our hearts, wondering what else I could have done to push you away and fixing it incessantly, wondering how you were doing at every time of the day; if you were eating properly, sleeping well, if you could sleep without me in your arms, or if you couldn't, like me.
"I teach art at a high school," you start with your occupation and you suddenly feel like you are meeting someone new, not Juyeon, but a complete stranger. A lump forms in your throat.
"Really? I'd always thought you would make your own art," Juyeon says, a million questions being asked with just an arch of his eyebrow, all of which you do not have the answer to.
"I still make my own art. But I guess now I do it through the kids. Some of them, the ones who care at least, are brilliant. They have these otherworldly ideas that I could have never thought up myself. This one girl carved her artwork from old books so that when you put them all together, it formed one big sculpture. It was beautiful," you tell him, getting a little excited.
"Oh, I bet you couldn't stop telling everyone about it. I bet you talked about it for it for days, maybe even weeks. You couldn't stop talking about the paintings at the museum we went to that one time," he comments, smiling so widely at the memory you'd think love for you still existed within the deep chambers of his heart, buried deep down and suppressed because of his choices. The lump in your throat grows and you cannot hold back your burning question.
"Did you fall out of love with me?" you blurt, eyes sad as you look at him for an answer in his body language, or his eyes, or his expression. His smile dies and is replaced with a hard look, one that you almost don't recognise as an expression Juyeon could make. Your heart thuds with anxiety in your chest as you await his answer, wholly unsure if you should have sprung the question when the conversation was going along so nicely. You ruin everything.
"No," he says after a long time of deliberation. He does not meet your eyes once after admitting it out loud. Your heart soars with hope and you wonder if you could ever go back to what you once were. His.
"I think a part of me will always love you," he admits rather shyly, eyes only ever coming up as far as the bridge of your nose before they are darting away.
Your lips part at this newfound information. You did not expect that. He seemed totally over you until a moment ago. He was looking at his girlfriend so lovingly. How can he still say that he is in love with you? How can he say that he still loves you when he did not come back for you once in the five years since he left? How can he even admit that when his girlfriend is sitting inside that hall, awkwardly trying to keep up a conversation with virtual strangers, unbeknownst to the fact that her boyfriend is confessing his love to another. You don't understand how he could do this again; completely upend your life and turn it on its head, confuse your feelings and make you forget everything you have learnt since he left. You don't understand how your heart is still thudding so hard since it heard that Juyeon, the man you've wanted all your life, still loves you after all these years. You hate yourself even more.
"Juyeon—" you start but are interrupted when someone calls his name. It's a female voice and every cell in your body knows that it is his girlfriend.
"Let's go for a walk?" he says rather than suggests, holding out his hand as his expression hurries you to decide before the two of you are caught by his girlfriend. Like the two of you are children running away from parents who are trying to desperately tuck you into bed. You are instantly transported back to the countless amount of times he's done this to you. Whenever the two of you were doing something you shouldn't be doing (ie. breaking into a swimming pool), he would always turn around and offer his hand to you, as if he were confirming that the two of you were in this together. That this was your choice as much as it was his. You used to be reassured when he did this. You were in this together, nothing would ever be too much when the both of you were together. But now, you feel like he is convicting you, like he is coercing a confession from you when you've done nothing but love him. And you let him.
The warning signs flash bright red in your mind. You take his hand. A siren sounds in your mind. And then, Juyeon is whisking you away into the night, hand in hand, your other hand keeping your dress away from your feet as the two of you enter the lift and ride it all the way to the ground floor hand in hand. When the doors open, he leads you outside and to the park opposite the hotel in silence.
When the two of you are situated on a bench under a withering tree, your situation crashes onto your shoulders like cinderblocks.
"Y/N," he starts. It's the first time he's said your name. You used to fly when he'd say your name, like a musician appreciating a melody. It's almost ironic how your stomach drops now when he says it, how it leaves a bad taste on your tongue. His tone doesn't exactly scream affectionate either, more like dead serious. Like he is about to unleash another onset of darkness onto your life.
"Juyeon," you cut him off when he opens his mouth to speak. You don't think you can deal with it if he rejects you again. Your heart would just not be able to cope.
"Before you say anything, please hear me out." His silence is your cue to continue speaking.
"I still love you. Like you said, I think a part of me will always love you. It's like it's second nature for me. I just can't stop. The past few years I've been asking myself what you would think about various things, or how you would react when I told you an account of my day, or how you would have gone about a situation. And I don't think I will ever stop asking myself these questions," you pause to attempt to swallow the growing lump in your throat and blink away the tears.
"I don't know what on earth drove you to think that distance would ever be a problem for us. At least for me, it was never a problem. As you can see, five years have gone by and you've been all over the world and I'm still fucking here declaring my love for you. But I think the thing that distance has made me realise was that just because we love each other, doesn't mean we should date." Tears have begun to run down your cheeks and your voice has begun to crack in different places, in between different words, but you press on.
Juyeon takes your hand into his when he hears your voice crack, encasing it between the warmth of his palms. The feeling is familiar yet foreign, but comforting all the same. His palms are warm and rough and somehow, you feel yourself calm down slightly. In this one action, you can tell just how he feels, listening to your words. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I made you feel this way.
"I wouldn't have ever been there for you, Y/N," he says quietly in between your sobs. You control the ugly noises coming from your throat to hear him better because his voice is so soft, almost like he doesn't want to say it out of fear of its truth.
"I wouldn't have been able to hold you for months on end when I left. And I knew you would have never wanted to abandon your degree just so you could follow me across the world. And I could never ask that of you. And asking for you to wait was just too selfish," he continues sadly, hands griping yours tightly, like the memory of him having to let you go was physically paining him.
"I know we would've been unhappy. You, especially. And I also knew you would endure the pain because you are just so loyal. And I didn't think I could live with the guilt of making you go through that pain. Though I can barely live with the guilt of breaking your heart now," he says, the last part even more softly, so soft it was almost inaudible. You can see the ghost of tears in Juyeon's eyes as they gloss over but Juyeon quickly blinks them away.
"I know," you say, moving to lean against his shoulder. Juyeon rests his head against your own and the action is comforting, both to you and Juyeon and it sets the two of you at ease, whatever emotions that were between the two of you— anger, hate, frustration, longing— put to rest with your head on his shoulder, your hand in his, and the two of you finally coming together to get some closure. Everything seems right again and your heart sets a gentle pace; the shaking in your hands stop and you finally feel like you can move on with your life.
"Thanks for telling me that," you finally say after a moment of silence. "I feel like I can finally move on with my life," you continue when Juyeon says nothing, voicing out your exact thoughts. You feel Juyeon smile against the shell of your ear.
"Oh," he says suddenly, sitting upright and taking his warmth with him. You turn to him in question and the bad feeling immediately comes back to squeeze at your gut when he flashes you the most guilty smile you have ever seen.
"I'm, uh," he starts, pausing to gauge your reaction. You remain silent, hoping— praying that he is not going to inform you of his engagement.
"I'm actually, uh, immigrating. I'm immigrating to England. Well, I'm a pilot. So I won't always be in England. But when I'm on a break or when I'm not flying, I'll be there."
All again, you feel your heart sink into your toes. You'd just made up with him and now he's leaving forever? You've just gotten to know him again (sort of) and now he's flying back across the world and this time to stay.
"Oh," is all you can manage. Juyeon winces, knows he shouldn't have brought it up so quickly when the two of you finally feel comfortable with how you ended, only to ruin it with this heart-shattering news. But he's leaving forever in a week. And now that he has you back in his life, he's not so sure he wants to go again.
"I'm leaving in a week," he continues, telling you all of the details to all but make the wound deeper, to nestle the blade right into the cut. Your heart sinks through your soles and into the ground below it.
"You're moving in with..." you pause, realising that you still do not know the name of his girlfriend.
"Charlotte," he supplies with a smile, part affectionate, part woeful. Your stomach drops but you will yourself to be supportive. The person you love with your whole heart is in love and is being loved, you should be happy.
"She's pretty," you say with a smile that Juyeon knows is forced. It doesn't reach your eyes. You're forcing yourself to be happy for him again and it hurts him as much as it hurts you.
"You know what I first thought when I saw her?" you ask, his silence urges you for an answer.
"I thought: He must've fallen for her eyes first."
Your sentence is met with silence. Juyeon doesn't know what to say. You know him so well that it's scary. He didn't realise just how much you'd observed him in your time together. He wishes that he'd done the same.
"Anyway," you say when the silence stretches on for far too long, getting up to stand before Juyeon. You hold your hand out to him, saying, "I hope they haven't cut the cake yet. I didn't bring my phone either. I bet my sister is looking for me."
Juyeon doesn't want to leave though. In all of a few minutes, he'd been transported back to the earlier days of his youth, when he wasn't concerned about jobs or where he'd be staying, only caring about his love and you who held it. He'd missed the freedom of it all, missed the way you'd always made things seemed so easy. And in those short moments on the park bench, he finally remembered how it felt, and what a happy time it had been for him. Juyeon doesn't want to leave. But he takes your hand anyway, hauling himself from the bench with your help, hands immediately tucking themselves in his pockets as the two of you make your way back to the wedding.
Before the two of you enter the hall, Juyeon stops you and pulls you in for a hug. It's warm and comforting and your heart jumps through your ribcage and into his chest, jittery and fluttering like a butterfly. Your arms fit around his waist and his come around your shoulders, fitting like a finished puzzle. He doesn't say a word, simply basks in your arms for as long as he can, taking advantage of the moment before he can regret it.
"I'll send you off," you say with a pat to his back, your chin resting on his shoulder. He nods, pulls away, feels something inside him slip away forever, smiles, then walks back into the hall. You smile back, feel your heart bloom at his radiance and enter the hall behind him, virtual strangers again.
#lee juyeon#the boyz juyeon#juyeon scenarios#juyeon fanfic#juyeon#juyeon fluff#the boyz#tbz imagines#tbz au#tbz angst#juyeon angst#lee juyeon x reader#juyeon x reader#juyeon imagines#juyeon x y/n#the boyz imagines#ex! juyeon#lee juyeon fanfic#angst#fanfiction#fanfic
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picture me | johnny (m)
title: picture me
pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader
genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst
summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again.
word count: 18.3k
warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok!
a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.
i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪
(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)
The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence
—
He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.
He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.
You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.
He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.
You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.
When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.
What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.
The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.
That was when you figured he must be a vampire.
You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.
Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.
The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.
He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.
You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.
—
At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.
He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.
There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.
When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.
The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.
It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.
These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.
Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?
One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.
“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.
“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.
When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.
You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.
“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”
You cough. “No one.”
“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”
“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.
Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”
You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”
She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”
You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.
You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.
Oh. The mirror.
She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”
You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.
“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”
“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.
Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.
“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”
“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.
When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.
For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.
You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.
When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.
He’s there when you arrive, of course.
He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?
You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.
“Did you come back for this?”
You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.
“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.
He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”
“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.
He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.
“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”
“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.
“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”
The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”
“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.
“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.
“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”
“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?
“Um, just different things here and there.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.
“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.
“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”
You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”
“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”
“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.
You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”
The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.
And you still didn’t get his name.
You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.
When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.
You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.
When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”
“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”
He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”
Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.
“I...think I’ll stay, then.”
You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.
“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.
“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”
“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”
He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”
You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.
“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.
“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”
“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”
“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”
Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”
“Yes!”
Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.
You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”
“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”
“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.
Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”
“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”
Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”
“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”
You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”
He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”
You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”
“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”
You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”
Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”
Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.
You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.
Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.
He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.
When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”
“Hi, Y/N.”
You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.
“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.
“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”
It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.
After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.
Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.
As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.
He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”
“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”
“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”
Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”
“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”
“Turned, huh…”
Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.
You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.
You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”
“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”
“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”
“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.
Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.
You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”
“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”
“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.
“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”
“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.
“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”
“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”
You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.
You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”
You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.
“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.
You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.
Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. “Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”
You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.
The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.
As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.
You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.
Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”
You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.
It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.
The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.
“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”
Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”
He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.”
You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”
Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”
You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.
Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.
Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.
Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.
Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.
Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.
“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.
“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.
—
You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”
Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.
“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”
“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”
Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”
“Two places?”
“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”
“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”
“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”
“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”
“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”
“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”
Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.
“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”
Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.
He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”
“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”
The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”
On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around.
When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.
Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.
“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”
“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.
“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.
“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.
“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”
Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”
The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.
There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.
“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”
You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”
He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”
If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.
You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”
“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.
The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.
“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.
“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.
—
You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.
After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”
When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.
This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.
Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”
“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”
“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.
“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”
—
You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.
“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.
“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.
Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.
—
When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.
He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.
When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.
That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.
He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.
Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.
You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.
You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.
Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.
Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.
“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.
Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”
“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.
Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.
There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.
He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.
“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.
“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”
“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.
Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.
“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”
You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”
Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”
You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”
Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”
You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.
“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”
“What, like a subject?” you ask.
“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”
You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.
Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”
“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.
After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.
“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”
You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”
—
The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.
“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.
“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”
“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”
“Do you remember this day?” you ask.
“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”
You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...
“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.
Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.
You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.
You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.
“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.
“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.
“What?”
“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.
“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”
He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.
Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”
—
Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.
You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.
Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”
Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight.
Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.
You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.
The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.
“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.
“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”
You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.
Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.
“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”
You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”
When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.
The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.
“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.
After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.
Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.
You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.
To:
Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party
You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.
However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.
From:
Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏
You smile at that.
To:
I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.
From:
🦷🩸
—
You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.
He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.
“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”
He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”
Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.
He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”
“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”
Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”
You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”
“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”
“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.
It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.
“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.
“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.
“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”
Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”
“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”
“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.
You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”
“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”
This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.
“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.
Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.
Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.
The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.
At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”
You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.
“Is that okay with you?”
“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.
“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.
You want to hear him say it again.
Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”
“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.
When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.
“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.
“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.
“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.
“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”
Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”
There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”
Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”
“I’m certain.”
He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.
His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.
“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.
“Yes. Just you. No one else.”
Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.
This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.
Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.
You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.
You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.
Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.
“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.
Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”
“I want to, Johnny.”
With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.
You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.
Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.
“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.
More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.
Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.
It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.
“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.
Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.
The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.
“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”
“Please.”
He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.
“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.
“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.
“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.
“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”
Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.
His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.
“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”
As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.
When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.
“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.
“I-it’s okay.”
Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.
“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.
Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.
If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.
You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.
As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.
He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.
“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.
You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”
Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.
When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”
“O-okay.”
The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.
With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.
Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”
Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.
Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.
“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.
Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.
Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.
“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”
Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.
The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.
When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.
—
Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.
You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.
“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”
His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.
“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”
Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.
Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.
#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
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any headcanons of Aja and Jim as besties-?? because like its so difficult to find content or headcanons of these two being besties when they totally would-!
YEYSYEYS
- they spar!! they do it either at the mothership or the Camelot castle O R Jim shows aja the forge idk but they spar.
- while sparring they find out they know many things abt fighting so they like teach stuff to each other it’s fun!
- they go on races Aja with the serrator skateboard thing and Jim with the Vespa (he gets a new one bc he deserves one.)
- whenever the group chat is dead they’re the ones who revive it
- jim and Toby introduce the tarrons to gun robot
- it ends up on all of the Arcadia group going to the movies to watch Gun Robot 9
- krel has a LOT of theories and wonders how humans manage to make the robots look so realistic with effects and yah meanwhile Aja is like THAT FIGHT WAS SO COOL???1!£!>£{€{
- anyways
- when in their human forms theyre always Discussing who’s taller
- (it’s Aja)
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Just saw your post about both of them surviving on the statesman, here is how i imagined it myself: them being rescued by the guardians etc. arriving together on Earth. Thor still put Stormbreaker in Thanos' chest except that when Thanos is about to snap his fingers, Loki stops him and Thor gets a second chance but he isn't fast enough and Thanos send Loki flying. Thanos dies but what about Loki? Does he survive? Does Thor use the gauntlet to bring him back? What do the other think? idk.
Which thing did you read, lovie? Are you referring to my rewrite of the IW script? Or are you talking about my Thor/Loki get snapped scenerio?
Cos like I legit don't know if, in the case that both Thor and Loki survive the Statesman AND they both get picked up by the galaxy guardians, that they'd necessarily even be involved in the fight against Thanos? Like the thing we have to confront is that, underpinning both of these characters' motivations is a deep selfishness about one another. Like, especially in the case of their circumstances post-reconciliation after the end of thor3-- this is it for them: they're together, they're both alive, they're both safe. Like, this is everything they have, this is everything they want, this is what they've been working for, and in the circumstance you're suggesting, I find it difficult to see a way out of it that isn't Thor turning to Loki turning to Thor and just being like, "Haven't we paid enough? I'm not risking you again" and then just fucking off.
Like the galaxy guardians aren't gonna be able to persuade them of anything -- neither Thor nor Loki fucking give a shit about any of them or their priorities. Truth be told, neither Thor nor Loki give a shit about any priority in the universe more than they care about each other.
Like, embarrassingly, this is canon to all of the movies. The only reason Thor has ever been involved in the broader MCU universe has been because of Loki. He's only in avengers1 to bring his brother home; he's only in avengers2 to find closure in retrieving and destroying the artefact that drove Loki mad; he's only in IW and EG bc Loki is dead and he needs to avenge him. If you just give him Loki, he has no reason to be anywhere else; he'll just take Loki and leave.
But ok, let's say that they do agree to fight Thanos together (It'll probably be Loki who insists on it tbh; he'll phrase it like "brother I know you, if you run from this now, if you leave our people to the mercies of that mad wolf, you'll regret it all your days.")
(this is all contingent on both of them coming out of the Statesman completely unscathed tho, like, completely: if Loki has so much as a flesh wound on him, Thor is gonna override everything to take him and run. Similarly, if Thor is at all injured, Loki's killing everyone on board, stealing the ship and going to ground)
I don't know if they'd go to Nidavellir? Thor would still feel some security in himself; he would not need the crutch of a new weapon. I especially don't think that Thor would prop the eye of the forge open with his own body like he does in canon -- if Loki is still well and with him, he has no need for his canonical death wish. But ok, let's say they do go to Nidavellir, but they're both getting weapons. They're both kings; it's only fair. Thor gets Stormbreaker but Loki gets a new staff or spear or something.
Let's say they fight the final battle -- and Loki gets hurt trying to stop the snap. Again, if they both live through the snap, they're gonna fucking leave. Nobody's ever gonna see them again -- they are done. If Loki dies in the snap and Thor was the one to agree to bringing him to the battle -- Thor's gonna make a genuine attempt on his own life. If Thor dies and Loki is the one who insisted on fighting Thanos -- he's gonna go, kill Thanos, and get the fucking time stone
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because i am very confused about this what even is dooku's backstory? cannon or EU/disney because i am so confused.
Well... There's wookieepedia? I mean, it's not that I mind answering, but I'd kinda need to recap several books and comics, which they have already done. Super briefly though, he has several backstories.
In the EU - as far as I remember - one of the most significant events of his past was his involvement in the battle of Galidraan, which is from the 2016 comic Open Seasons. Basically, Death Watch (which... apparently existed wayyy before the even TCW, even though in TCW they're presented as more or less of a new group, or at least a group that was in the shadows until now? idk how it makes sense, but I'm going to assume it does somehow because I'm not getting into Mando stuff anymore) frames the True Mandalorians (yes, really, that's their name, because there's nothing more Mando than loudly and obnoxious claiming you are the only ones Doing It Right and everybody else are just pretenders) for a bunch of evil stuff, the Jedi go there to investigate, and the True Mandalorians all end up killed because they open fire after exactly two sentences. Dooku was the one who led the Jedi team, and Jango was the only survivor. Another point of significance was Komari Vosa, Dooku's Padawan, falling in love with him and eventually turning to the Dark Side. Yikes.
In Disney lore, Dooku's backstory is extensively covered in Dooku: Jedi Lost, with some bits from Master and Apprentice. It mostly involves getting very interested in prophecies at some point, having a complicated relationship with his bio family (his father literally left him to the wolves as a baby because he was Force-sensitive, but he still became secret penpals with his sister later on), and being bffs with Sifo-Dyas.
In what I refer to as 'canon' (that is, the 6 original movies + TCW), Dooku's backstory is extremely straightforward. He was a Jedi Master who clashed with the Council fairly often, he grew dissatisfied with the corruption of the Republic, left the Jedi Order and returned to his homeworld, inheriting his title of Count, he allowed his pride and his desire to make things better to turn into a need to control, which turned into thirst for power. He fell to the Dark Side because of it (and a possible fear of the future, and a superiority complex), met Sidious and became his apprentice (prior to TPm, not because of Qui-Gon's death - meaning Dooku was indirectly complicit in Qui-Gon's death because he was already a Sith Lord at the time), he killed Sifo-Dyas who had been creating the Clone Army because of his visions of the future, he hired Jango - who had no relation to him in any capacity - and took over the Clone Army project, and then he worked in the shadows for ten years forging alliances with the dirtiest, most corrupt megacorporations of the entire galaxy (the Techno Union, Trade Federation, Commerce Guild...) to bring about the fall of the Republic he considered too rotten to deserve existing. That's pretty much it.
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you tagging the goodfellas post as marty got me thinking–while admittedly i've never actually seen a bronx tale in full (come to think of it idk if you have either), i caught a few minutes on tv the other day and the whole thing with the kid trying to sneak in the bar and always imitating the wiseguys on the corner trying to get noticed? marty does that 100%. and now i'm picturing henry, absolutely bewildered, seeing 11 year old marty in the bar after he followed joe in lol
haha, I have never seen it in full either actually (i always end up rewatching Goodfellas instead of watching new movies oops)
but I know what you mean, if Marty grew up around these people (like I suppose Joe and Vito also know and hang out with a bunch of other guys, and Marty idolizes that when he sees them just drinking, playing cards, waving their money around, and sometimes being nice to him) and also doesn't seem to have a father in his life anymore, it's so clear he just wants to imitate the men whom he thinks are cool and mean something (and I suppose he doesn't see the "shit going wrong" side much, even the shootout in the forge didn't seem to shake him). Maybe Marty even has his own group of friends who are the same age and in the same way obsessed with the wiseguy and to whom he brags about Joe and how they're "best friends" and how he's "always" doing something for him (he would definitely overestimate Joe’s importance)
also with Goodfellas, I can see the scene where young Henry comes home wearing a suit and his mom is shocked and says "You look like a gangster!" - that definitely happened with Marty and his mom (and she also started to realize that maybe it's strange that he can afford this, and that maybe it's not just taxi driving that makes him money) when he got some money and bought a suit to look dapper :')
#marty santorelli#i mean young Henry Hill (at least in the movie) also worked at a cab stand right? well well well that's how Marty got his 'job'
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mcu
Oooooh, tough but fun!
blorbo (favourite character, character I think about the most): Steve Rogers. I just... really love him. "Not a perfect soldier, but a good man" says it all. Plus I find the innate sadness he always carries around so fascinating in a heartbreaking way. We all riff on the Nomad identity, but I think it perfectly encapsulates the quiet tragedy of Steve's situation; a man out of time with no place or home where he truly belongs, so he throws himself into duty and purpose as the next best thing. Basically the character I most want to give a hug to.
scrunkly (my "baby", character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is so Shaped): Thor Odinson. In many ways, he echoes what I love about Steve with how he tries to walk the line between being a great king and a good man, and I love the contrast between his charming, self-assured princely side and his quieter, more vulnerable moments. (Also, let the record show that either of these labels could apply to either of these characters).
scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): Maria Rambeau; the scenes where she grapples with reconciling Vers with Carol and knowing she was right to believe that there was more to her supposed death all along are some of my favourites in that movie. Lashana Lynch really makes the part shine.
glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won't shut up about it for a week): Jane Foster, I just love watching the contrast between her more scientific mind and the fantastical/mystical world Thor introduces her to (the soul forge? "You have their ball"? *chef kiss*). I also really like her scenes in Dark World's original ending, it's a shame they had to change it for the Loki twist.
poor little meow meow ("problematic"/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): Ikaris - a recent addition! He's a mass of contradictions that's just fascinating to pick apart, one that he ultimately can't bring himself to live with, and I really hope they'll bring him back in some capacity in the future. Wanda Maximoff is a runner up!
horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): Stephen Strange would probably be the most fun, given how haughty and arrogant he can come across. I remember you rewatching all the Marvel movies with commentary in the run up to Endgame (or Infinity War? idk), and your comment about how Strange is one of the few Marvel protagonists who starts out as genuinely not a very good person and retains his negative traits (albeit less pronounced than before) by the end always stuck with me.
eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): Helmut Zemo. You take the reconciliation? You take the fragile reconciliation between Steve and Tony and destroy it with the truth of December 16th 1991? Oh, jail for Zemo, jail for 1000 years!
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Random thought but legally blonde klapollo au??
OH that is actually a fantastic concept--I know I’ve seen a few narumitsu legally blonde aus, but I don’t think I’ve seen one with klapollo?? Which is weird, because it would actually work so well.
but like. ANYWAY. the way I think it would go would be something along the lines of:
-Klavier is Elle, and that’s only partly because of the hair! They’ve both got similar drive, determination, and...yeah, they both have very distinct senses of style.
-Apollo, then, gets to be the TA and junior partner in the law firm Klavier ends up interning at--this might involve having to adjust their ages a little so it makes more sense, but I don’t think that would change their dynamic very much
-And here’s where I’m changing the plot up a little bit to make the AU echo the existing character dynamics--the shitty teacher (Callahan? IDK how you spell his name) is Kristoph. Obviously he’s going to be shitty to Klavier in an entirely different way than happens in the movie; instead of that plot, he only accepted Klavier into his internship program because they’re related, and he thought it would be easier to manipulate him into going along with all his shady legal business if Klavier felt he owed Kristoph in some way.
-Pause for Backstory here--Klavier’s decision to go to Harvard was entirely last-minute, as per the original movie plot. He’d been studying music and fashion, and had been dating Daryan up until he got broken up with unceremoniously in the middle of a restaurant. He’d gotten into law school for the sole purpose of winning Daryan back--but ended up deciding to stay on his own terms.
-the Good Professor gets to be Constance Courte, mainly because hey, that’s already basically a canon thing!
-Apollo thinks Klavier’s entirely ridiculous when he first encounters him, after Klavier got kicked out of class for not being properly prepared. He’s impressed, of course, that Klavier managed to be at Harvard almost on a whim--but he’s skeptical of his common sense, at first.
-Side tangent--you know that one scene where Elle’s standing in line at the campus bookstore at midnight wearing a bright pink sexy bunny outfit and holding a macbook, and whatshisface (wow clearly this character left like. zero impression on me, what on earth was his name??) is in line behind her, and they just have this “Don’t even ask”/”Wasn’t gonna” exchange? I’m literally picturing that right now, but with Apollo and Klavier. ugh I wish I was better at drawing.
-I don’t think I have the brainpower rn to figure out who on earth would be involved with the big trial during the movie, but I really think that Wright and Edgeworth and Trucy etc all need to get worked in here somehow??
-I also can’t quite decide who takes the place of the New Fiancée Girl--like, I would say Ema might make sense purely from a “starts out hating Klavier but ends up befriending him” standpoint, but I also can’t do that to Ema. I can’t have her engaged to Daryan in this AU, even if the point is that she breaks it off at the end lmao
-but ANYWAY back to what we really care about here: the Klapollo Plot
-they’re all working on the Big Court Case, Kristoph calls Klavier into his office just as he’s leaving for the night, and reveals his plan to use forged evidence to win the case. And Klavier is horrified, does not react at all as Kristoph had hoped, and storms off--but when he tries to tell anyone about it, they don’t believe him--after all, Kristoph is a well-established attorney, isn’t he? He wouldn’t need to forge evidence--clearly Klavier must just be jealous of his brother’s success.
-Apollo, however, has started to genuinely like Klavier over the course of the year--and he knows that Klavier wouldn’t make something like this up. So he sides with Klavier, and helps him take over the case.
-Which Klavier wins, of course, due to his extensive knowledge of haircare--something that’s important in both fashion and music careers, honestly.
-...the thing with Legally Blonde, though, is that technically the main couple gets together offscreen?? Which makes it a pretty cool movie in that sense--but a little less good for a romantic AU. You’d have to write in some sort of scene post-trial where Klavier and Apollo reconvene, talk things out, and get their Emotions in order--but they would, and it would be lovely.
-and, of course, you’ve got the Big Graduation Speech--and the closed-caption ending summary: Apollo is planning on proposing to Klavier.....tonight.
Is that...too much? Too little? I love this concept and also I love figuring out how to fit existing character dynamics into AUs--it’s a bit like a puzzle, where you sometimes have to change things about both halves to make it work better. So here--some thoughts on how I think it would go down?
#thank you for the thought!#this was a good distraction from obsessively checking my ao3 page after posting that last chapter of currents tbh#klapollo#obviously you don't have to AGREE with these ideas!!#and there's so much I didn't even touch on wow#but you can draw a bunch of parallels between legally blonde and klapollo somehow#which I only realized by accident the other week lol#ANYWAY here you go! sorry it took a bit to answer this#hope the long post makes up for it??#ask#asks#my writing#or just about anyway#aroace-space-case
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