#my ultimate self-indulgent birthday fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katbrando · 1 year

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dinokat ✱ 10.9k ✱ NSFW (minors dni, you'll be blocked) written very self-indulgently for my birthday, this is a series of snapshot drabbles encapsulating a surprise trip to the utah desert. there's horseback riding, hiking, drunken shenanigans, and typical dinokat silliness. majority is SFW, the smut is around 2k and takes place near the end of the fic. [ read on ao3 instead ]

“Babe, you look like –”

I’ve never seen Diego move with as much force and speed as he slams his laptop shut and whips his head around to look at me. His face is riddled with something akin to fear, though not severe enough to warrant too much concern.

“-- a shrimp,” I finish the statement, ruffling my damp hair with a towel and eyeing him with confusion.

Diego stays rooted on the couch, but holds his laptop protectively in his lap as if whatever he’d been previously looking at is for his eyes only. Processing the observation, he straightens up and shrugs dismissively.

“Just relaxing. Finally my turn to shower?” The subtle accusation hints at something else bothering him, though it seems he’s not exactly keen on discussing it. I have to swallow the anxiety and focus instead on the smile that’s gradually crossing his face.

“I offered for you to join me.” Towel now draped across my shoulders, I walk towards him and gently poke Diego in the forehead. “You snooze, you lose.”

Sharp cerulean eyes stare directly up at me as he grips my wrist and lowers my hand to his lips. Once he’s placed a kiss to my palm he finally stands up, still holding his laptop tight against his chest.

“We both know if I’d have joined you,” Diego pauses amidst a sly grin that bares the sharp points of his teeth, “we’d have been in there for ages.”

I have no time to offer a rebuttal, not that I want to anyway. Diego promptly presses his lips to my cheek and leaves the living room. His laptop is stored somewhere in the space of our bedroom before he shuts himself in the bathroom and, despite my confusion and genuine curiosity, there’s no reason to go hunting for it. I trust Diego, respect his privacy, but it’s odd that he’s been acting like this lately. In a way, it reminds me of how secretive he’d been about his poetry when we’d first started dating, but there’s no telling what it might be this time. Ultimately, he can be quite protective of certain parts of himself, and it’d simply be unfair of me to pry things out of him when he isn’t quite ready to show them.

I’m lucky enough to see intimate parts of himself that he rarely shows to anyone, and that’s more than good enough for me.

The days leading up to my birthday week continue to consist of Diego covertly tapping away at his phone and angling his laptop just right to shield whatever it is he’s looking at from my view. Curiosity is painfully consuming me, but I remain silent about his odd behavior.

Gradually, however, it starts to become clear what he’s up to. It’s when he firmly requests that I take off the entire weekend of the upcoming date that I understand he must be planning something. Diego knows surprises stress me out and often keep me awake at night, but he insists I have nothing to worry about. Of course, that’s not my concern, it’s more rooted in a feeling of guilt at whatever he’s putting together specifically for me. But Diego is a gift giver, it’s who he is at his core; those he loves, though not many, he showers in gifts as a sign of his affection.

And so, I do as he says. Soon enough the fateful weekend is nearly upon us, and the minute I return home from work on Thursday, Diego greets me at the door, stopping me in my tracks from entering any further.

“What are you doing?” I pry, attempting to rise to my tip-toes and glance over his shoulders.

“Calm down,” Diego coos. “Close your eyes.”

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I relent, shutting my eyes and immediately feeling one of his palms press to my lower back, pulling me into our home and guiding me god knows where. Based on my general familiarity with the layout, I conclude that he’s led me to our bedroom.

“Alright, open them, but,” Diego pauses, tone a bit stern, “you have to promise not to throw a fit.”

“Why would I throw a fit?”

Diego doesn’t answer the question; instead he quietly gives me the go-ahead again. Steeling myself so I won’t react in a way he won’t appreciate, my eyes slowly open and notice we’re standing next to our bed. Atop the mattress lies two packed suitcases, a pair of plane tickets placed against their surface. Diego doesn’t give me time to respond, just straightens up to confidently explain.

“I’m taking you on a trip.” I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning. “We leave tonight, our flight is in two hours.”

“What?” I lift my stare and bite back the distress bubbling up in my throat. “Where –”

“Utah.” Diego’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction.

Out of every possible location he could have chosen for a trip, Utah is certainly nowhere near the top of the list. What could have possibly drawn him to this state specifically? Perhaps these were the cheapest tickets, or maybe he’s mistaken it for some other location. He’s still fairly unfamiliar with the States.

“Utah,” I repeat. “Okay, so… if the flight is in two hours what are we still doing here? It’s best to be at the airport early!”

“Christ, you’re still uptight from work.” Diego observes, and I slightly bristle with annoyance at his (likely very correct) assumption. “It’s fine, we’ll be there with plenty of time to spare. I packed ahead of time for a reason, darling.”

Speechless, I glance at our luggage, then back to him. I have no clue what awaits us in Utah, but still I wrap my arms around his torso and tightly hug him in thanks.

“You didn’t have to do this.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I know he’s going to tell me off.

“There it is,” he chuckles, choosing not to further scold me. Instead, with one arm still wrapped securely around my shoulders, he reaches for one suitcase and pulls it to the floor. “We ought to get going.”

Ignoring my desire for a post-work shower, I follow his lead and grasp my own luggage. Diego tucks our plane tickets away, guiding me out to the living room. He tends to Anguirus, quickly feeding him and offering him a loving goodbye. It occurs to me that Diego has previously complained about airports and planes, which only furthers my appreciation for this gesture. The fact that he’s willing to go through a process he despises so much just to celebrate my birthday with me warms my heart in a way that only he is capable of.

Putting up with Diego’s onslaught of complaining and frustration at the airport is easy; I’ve become used to his tendency to exhibit irritation with a great number of things, at this point in our relationship I deal with it with a sense of humor. He responds decently well to my supportive touches and words, but he’s still incredibly antsy and on edge for the duration of our 3 hour flight.

As soon as we land in Utah, Diego makes a beeline for the luggage claim. Suitcases finally in hand, he practically jogs out of the building and tugs me along with him. Only when the warm night air fills his lungs does he seem to relax. For tonight, he’s booked us a simple hotel. He explains that our real destination will be reached in the morning, though he still keeps it a secret despite my pleas for him to reveal it to me.

Airports are exhausting, so it doesn’t take much effort for me to relax in the security of Diego’s arms that night amidst the warmth of the hotel bed’s duvet. Sleep takes me as he nuzzles against my forehead, quietly professing his love in the silence of the room.

Refreshed after a full night’s rest, Diego and I set out for another lengthy trip to our final destination. From the comfort of our rented car, bustling cities give way to vast deserts, and all the while my mind attempts to put the pieces together. It’s been years since I’ve experienced a landscape like this outside of train rides to various parts of the west coast. Diego appears rather proud of himself for the duration of the ride, clearly pleased by my obliviousness.

“A hint, at the very least,” I grumble about three-quarters through our drive. “Please.”

“A hint…” Diego’s eyes narrow as he studies the road ahead of him. There’s no way that mind of his will come up with anything legitimate; he’s likely trying to craft some sort of joke instead.

“Don’t tell me you’re just driving aimlessly. I love you, but getting stranded out here isn’t my idea of a good time, and I might have to leave you.”

“You’ll have a good time, I promise.” There’s a pause, I ready myself for the inevitable punchline. “In fact, you could say… it’ll be quite the out-sand-ing time.”

“I can’t stand you.”

Diego chuckles at my insult, knowing it’s said in jest. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you one hint. Just one.” Hand outstretched towards me, one finger is held in front of my face for emphasis.

“Shoot.”

“I’m nearly positive you’ve never been there before.”

“That’s not a hint.” I press my head farther back against the seat and roll my eyes.

“Relax.” Diego gives my thigh a pat before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “We’re nearly there.”

So I do, enjoying the sound of Diego singing along to our road trip playlist and occasionally interjecting to mention facts about the local wildlife. There’s no way his passion for herpetology had nothing to do with choosing this location, and I certainly can’t blame him. Sometime during his chatter and carseat performance I manage to drift off to sleep, only to be woken up an hour later by the feeling of Diego gently shaking my shoulder.

“Darling,” he mumbles, only continuing when my eyes have cracked open, “we’re here.”

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight again, met with the sight of a rectangular white building with a large sign I can’t quite make out just yet.

“Where–”

“Amangiri,” Diego grins and studies me for an instant reaction. Where he only gets a blank stare he purses his lips just slightly. “Haven’t you heard of it? Apparently it’s quite popular with celebrities in your country.”

“Celebrities?” My voice cracks under the onslaught of questions riddling my mind. How much money has he spent? How did he even find out about this place? Why couldn’t he have just settled for something less extravagant?

“Apparently the Kardashians are fans of the place,” Diego states as if I should be familiar. He doesn’t give me a chance to fight him any further, just slips out from his side of the car and makes his way to the passenger side.

Begrudgingly I take his hand and allow him to lead me inside the building into a pristine lobby that makes me suddenly feel quite shabby. Diego confidently checks us in, having his usual charismatic small talk with the woman working the front desk and offering a lively ‘thank you’ as soon as he acquires our keys.

Outside again and fully adjusted to the piercingly bright sunlight, I scan the surrounding buildings and note a small group of people relaxing in a crisp, clear pool at the very center.

“So which one is ours?”

“It’s farther out, let’s go.” Diego quickly heads for the car, glancing back when I don’t immediately follow him.

As has become a trend in our relationship, I refrain from questioning him amidst his visible excitement. Our final drive for the day takes much less time, once more filled with Diego’s lilted singing. When the sight of a cubical cement building comes into view he happily points it out.

“Our little home for the weekend. A bit smaller than I’d pictured.”

Small or not, the suite is gorgeous. The interior is simplistic, decorated with modern furniture and accents of timber. A private fenced-in sky terrace houses a large daybed, a small pool sitting just at its foot. As if all that weren’t enough, there’s a firepit out front as well and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the entire space in natural light. Amidst my fawning and disbelief, Diego has pulled our luggage inside and neatly placed it at the foot of the indoor king-sized bed.

“Pictures are deceiving,” he grumbles, making his way back over to assist me in shrugging off my denim jacket. “But It’ll do.”

“‘It’ll do’?” When I whip my head around to face him he raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? This is–” I wave my hands around to emphasize no spot of the interior in particular. “It’s amazing.”

Diego’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his arm slinks around my waist and tugs me closer. “As long as you like it.” His voice lowers. “If you don’t then I’ll personally go to management. Just say the word, love.”

“No need for that.” A scoff makes way for laughter when Diego leans in to press several kisses against my cheek.

“Let’s settle in, then. I’ll order some dinner, you just relax.”

Not needing to be asked twice, I do just that. A satisfying shower eases any of the residual tension from our lengthy drive, then I take an opportunity to step outside and fully appreciate the landscape surrounding us. Endless desert with towering mountains all painted in rich warm shades seem to extend out forever into the distance. The last time I visited Utah was when I was much younger, a period of my life where my family had traveled all over the States to take in the sights of countless national parks. To be able to experience it all over again with Diego fills me with euphoria and excitement.

Speak of the devil, Diego meets me outside with a bag full of what I can only assume is our dinner. He waves it around cheerfully as he slides the glass door shut.

“Turmeric chicken for my darling.” He sets the bag down on the outdoor dining table and rummages through until he locates the mentioned box and sets it down. “Lamb masala for me.” The second entree follows suit. “And wine for later.” He keeps said alcohol in the bag, though still grinning in anticipation of enjoying it this evening.

I swallow back the question of how expensive this meal was; if I’m going to properly enjoy this weekend, I have to allow him to shower me with gifts, regardless of how much money he’s shoveling out. Instead I take a deep breath and sit down with him, succumbing to his charm and quick wit, still as powerful as it was at the beginning of our relationship.

With full bellies, Diego and I return inside and curl up against the couch, meaning to watch television but instead cuddling and unleashing unbridled affection upon each other. We’ve changed into a set of comfortable robes that were neatly folded atop our bed’s mattress, making it much easier to brush hands underneath the soft fabric and steal purposeful touches.

As the night sky goes dark and fills with an array of bright stars, Diego takes the opportunity to pop open the bottle of wine he’d ordered earlier. After more than a couple of glasses, the television is largely ignored, and he instead puts on a playlist through his phone. I choose not to indulge in drink, knowing it’s much more entertaining to watch as he slowly falls victim to the alcohol running through his system.

Diego isn’t a lightweight by any means, but tonight he doesn’t take it slow. He nearly finishes the bottle in no time, bringing him to a clearly tipsy state. Under the influence, his goofiness and tendency to entertain are always heightened to almost obscene amounts, so it’s no surprise that he’s stumbling around the living room under the guise of dancing, his voice bouncing against the concrete walls surrounding us.

After witnessing him barely bump into the couch arm and nearly topple over, I giggle at the sight of his exaggerated pout, “I told you to slow down.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, taking another swig from the bottle in one hand, squinting at his phone in the other. “S’just wine.”

There’s no time for me to respond; he flips through tracks until he lands on Arctic Monkeys cover of Baby I’m Yours, a personal favorite of his. I anticipate that he’ll be belting with extra enthusiasm, and unfortunately I’m correct.

“Ah,” Diego sighs, letting the first few seconds play until he holds the bottle to his mouth as if it’s a microphone. “Baby I’m yours–”

“Alright, c’mon, I’m getting you some water.”

When I attempt to get up, Diego latches his hand on my shoulder and spins me around, singing louder to drown out my refusal to engage in his drunken behavior.

“Stop.” My body language betrays my words as I grasp his forearm and step closer.

“Yours until the poets run out of rhyme,” his voice cracks, his face scrunches up when he tries to recover from his blunder. He skips the next line as he takes another drink from the basically empty bottle.

There’s no way I’m going to win against his determination to entertain and romance me. I fall into step with him instead and let him wrap an arm around my waist, thumping my forehead into the crook of his neck.

“I’m gonna stay right here, by your side.” He hiccups, chuckling afterwards. “Do my best to keep you satisfied–”

“You’d satisfy me if you hydrated,” I mumble against his chest.

“Shhh. Dance with me, darling.”

Diego lets the next few lines play out on their own, choosing to down the remainder of the bottle and clumsily drop it to the floor only to kick it out of the way.

“Yours until two and two is three.” This time his slurring is so painfully obvious that I pull back and gently tug at his arm.

“Alright. Water.” I plead, and he finally stumbles after me.

“I’m fine,” he croons, another hiccup completely trumping his insistence.

“You’re drunk.” I laugh again, filling a glass at the kitchen sink and oustretching it towards him.

Glass in hand, Diego takes a long drink and dramatically sighs afterwards. “Fine, you’re right.” I’m surprised by the way he admits defeat, but his next few words have me rolling my eyes. “I’m drunk… on love.”

“You’re insufferable.” I shake my head but give his shoulder a loving squeeze. When I attempt to refill the glass, he takes it from my hand and slides it across the counter.

“But you love me,” he correctly observes, leaning closer until his alcohol-laced breath is fanning across my lips. “Now kiss me.”

It’s a good thing I’m sober, Diego’s heated kisses and needy touches are intoxicating enough all on their own. Amidst our stumbling and laughter, his phone is abandoned somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, completely forgotten as pent up tension takes over.

“Have you ridden horses before?” Voice coming out more gravely than I’d intended, the question appears to pique Diego’s interest.

“‘Course.” The pair of us jostle slightly in our seats as the car rolls over rough terrain. “You have, right?”

I suppose it would have been silly to assume he’d be taking us to do just that if he’d had no previous experience. “Yeah, but it’s been…” I pause, mulling the thought over in my still half-asleep state. “Dunno, probably since I was twelve or something.”

“You’ve got me beat. Think I was ten.”

When our car finally reaches a small ranch with a fully-housed barn of horses, a farmhand greets us and instructs us to wait with a few more resort guests. A short demonstration ensues; basic safety tips, how to control a horse, how to mount one, all things that Diego half-listens to as he quietly insists this is all common sense. Maybe it is to him, but he’s aided by a photographic memory and a sort of confidence that would drive anyone to think he’s an expert in anything he does or says.

I half-expect Diego to immediately get knocked off his horse, but the animal melts at his touch and offers him immediate trust as soon as he approaches. Granted, he is delicate, sweet-talking the mare and never once putting a hand on her until she ceases backing away. In fact, Diego requires no assistance from the ranchers in mounting his horse, and he watches with amusement as I’m offered a wooden stool in order to even reach my destination. Another round of instruction and rule listing drags on for longer than probably necessary before our whole group is led farther out into the desert.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re secretly a professional horse jockey?” I ask during a moment of quiet, the pair of us far enough from our group that it now feels more like a private date.

“A jockey?” Diego scoffs. “Please, I haven’t been on a horse in years.” There’s a wistful warmth in his eyes as he gently brushes his hand through his horse’s mane. “Maybe in another lifetime.”

“You’re good with them.” Not that I need to tell him that. He looks right at home, posture perfect and chin lifted with somehow even more confidence than he typically radiates. “Y’all just met and she loves you.”

Diego turns to face me, slowly smiles, and lifts an eyebrow. “Well, I am quite charming.”

“Nevermind.” I roll my eyes and the sound of Diego’s laughter fills the air.

“I rode when I was younger.” He guides his horse to fall in step closer with mine. “Mum had me in classes as soon as I was old enough.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Understanding this as a rare moment of sincere vulnerability, I study him closely but resist further questioning.

“Loved it.” Childlike joy fills his face. “She always said I had a knack for it. S’pose that’s why I’ve always loved animals.”

Instead of asking why he’d ever stopped, I bask in this moment with him, watching his expression light up with the childhood memories he doesn’t deem painful. Stories about his mother always bring about a softer side of Diego, one less tinged with resentment and irritation for the struggles his father had put him through. He’s a guarded man, but in this moment he doesn’t clam up when he catches me lovingly staring at him; instead, he returns the soft expression and reaches over to tightly grasp my hand in his.

“We’re falling behind.” The observation comes just moments after Diego’s finished explaining the first time he fell off a horse as a young boy.

Diego’s eyes follow where mine rest, along the expanse of towering sandstone pillars and arches. The rest of our group is reduced to small figures slightly blurred by sandy winds, but before my anxiety can get any worse on its own Diego releases my hand and tightly grips his reins.

“I’ll race you.”

“Absolutely not.” My refusal falls on deaf ears, Diego’s wrists flicking and effectively quickening his horse’s pace. “Diego!”

Reckless as ever, he only glances back to chide me. “Loosen up! You’ll lose at this rate!” Another quick gesture and he’s speeding off in front of me.

“Dammit,” I mutter, begrudgingly following his lead and doing my best to balance myself.

In the end, we receive nothing more than a light reminder from the tour guide that it’s safest to maintain a steady pace and remain with the group. The instruction means nothing to Diego, and while it weighs on me for a bit, his thoroughly entertained and heightened mood make the entire thing worth it.

Tonight’s dinner is spent at one of the intimate restaurants that sits within the property of Amangiri Resort. What once was a vast sea of mountains in fiery oranges and reds now appears more subdued, dark and sleeping beneath a sky dotted with stars. Even with the beautifully set table lit by a pair of flickering candles in front of me, I can’t help admiring the scenery from the floor-length window just next to us.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Diego’s low voice breaks me from my trance. “If the food isn’t good we can order something else.”

“Oh, no!” I fix my attention on him instead, immediately enticed by his illuminated features. It’s a wonder why I’d even choose to look at anything else. “Just admiring the view.”

“Me too.” Diego’s lip curls into a sly smile. “But I’d much prefer if the view were looking back at me and enjoying their meal.”

It’s as if we’re back at our very first date, his cheesy charm rendering me powerless and his eyes watching me carefully for every effect that his words have. They are, of course, predictable and just as present as the first time he managed to woo me months ago; an uncontrollable and hot blush, a sheepish smile, a passive scoff. He eats all of it up.

After dinner we retreat back to our suite, eager to settle in and relax for the remainder of the night. After sharing some time together in the large rainfall shower, the night air greets us again in our sky terrace. The cooling breeze brings me to pull my robe tighter around myself as I hear Diego slide the glass door shut and place two mugs of tea on a table for two nestled in the corner of the private space.

Without turning around, my eyes hypnotized by the stillness and clarity of the small outdoor pool, I mutter a quick ‘thank you’ in return for the beverages. Diego’s footsteps against the concrete are easily audible as he approaches me. Our bodies meet, one of his arms slinking around mine and guiding me to turn and face him as his other hand delicately brushes my still-damp hair back from my face.

“The desert suits you,” Diego observes in a hushed voice. “I wish we could live out here. Just the two of us and our little dragon.” His fingertips glide down from my cheek to my jaw, his thumb softly prodding at my lower lip.

I chance a cheeky nibble on the digit, watching with delight as he furrows his brow. “It’s way too hot out here.”

“So you prefer the painfully unpredictable nature of your hometown.” Diego grumbles, lifting an eyebrow and deadpanning the last two words. “I see.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t a glutton for unpredictability.” I dip my hand beneath the sleeve of his robe to grasp the warm skin of his forearm.

He responds to the gesture with a tug, what little distance resting between us now gone. Voice only a whisper, his breath tickles my cheeks.

“Couldn’t possibly have any idea what you’re referring to, my love.”

“Right.”

As is typical, light banter plays out between the two of us, each of our tones and body language becoming increasingly riled up. The previously warm tea is largely ignored save for a few sips, now cooled and forgotten as quick wit and humor gives way to physical affection. But, the underlying energy of clear power play is still ever-present. Neither of us want to let the other win, even when we have no idea what determines victory in the first place.

Diego is awarded a brief second of dominance as I allow his lips to brush tenderly against mine. He’s won the battle, but certainly not the war. It takes hardly any force at all when my palms quickly shove at his chest, sending him toppling back into the pool with a yelp. Waves splash up at me when his body makes contact; his cries of displeasure echo alongside the sloshing of water.

“Kat!” I’m laughing so hard I can barely hear him as he steadies himself in the water. He dramatically whips his head back and forth, sending even more water soaring my way. “Bloody hell, what was that for?”

“I’m sorry,” I choke on a laugh, having to bend down and rest my hands against my knees, “I couldn’t help it, you look like a wet rat.”

Diego stares up at me, hair initially sticking to his face but eventually swiped back by one of his hands. His eyes are blown wide, stuck somewhere between frustration and adoration. The plush robe he’d been wearing is now resting at the top of the water, floating around him like an absurd lifejacket. I try to stifle another laugh but inevitably snort at just how ridiculous he looks.

“You’re a nutter,” Diego whispers, still audible in the cooling desert air.

“Takes one to know one,” I reply and walk to the edge of the pool, slowly sitting down and sinking my legs into the water.

Diego gives up and fully removes the robe, allowing it to float uselessly atop the now calming waves. Now free, his hands immediately rest against my calves, pulling himself closer until he’s able to comfortably fold his arms across my thighs. It’s almost unfair how cute he looks as he blinks away the droplets resting on his eyelashes, sending them rolling down his beautifully dotted cheeks and full, pouting lips.

“I’m so madly in love with you.”

His words grip me instantly, they’re unexpected and sudden and of course he’s expressed the sentiment before, but in this moment they feel so powerful and real. It’s almost like I don’t care anymore if he happens to win this silly little tussle. There’s no rebuttal I can bring myself to offer.

“I love you, too.”

“I certainly hope so.” Diego plays up the sweet act for another few seconds, then his devilish smile returns and I have essentially no time to prepare for his next move.

“What –” I sputter, but he’s already got his arms latched around my thighs.

Diego rips me from my spot on the concrete, hoisting me over his shoulder and dunking me in the water, all the while laughing so loud I’m almost certain anyone could hear him from a mile away. He’s nice enough to only submerge me for a split second, but when I come up for air my vision is completely obstructed by my hair.

Amidst my gasping and struggle to achieve balance, Diego takes it upon himself to apologetically brush my soaked bangs back. He seems quite proud of himself, chin lifted as the remainder of his laughing fit plays out.

“Dee,” I keep my tone low and threatening, but Diego doesn’t appear affected.

“Yes, love?”

Knowing full well that words will do nothing, I allow the playful energy from earlier to take over again, quickly splashing him and relishing in the way he squawks. The concrete surface of the sky terrace quickly becomes dangerously slick with the force of our onslaught on each other; in fact, after a bit, it’s surprising there’s any water left in the pool at all.

But yet again, the lighthearted brawl mellows out and becomes more subdued in the form of breathless laughter and contrite touches. The pair of us gradually back up into one corner of the pool, my arms draped loosely across his shoulders, his firmly holding me up to accommodate my legs wrapped around his waist. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than wade in heated waters with him, sharing passion-laced kisses and ignoring the fact that our shower earlier was now meaningless.

It’s during a pause for breath that Diego gives my ass a squeeze alongside a firm suggestion. “Might be wise to take this elsewhere before we turn into a couple of prunes.” He vaguely nods towards the day bed just feet away. “As long as you promise not to push me in again.”

As enticing as the idea is, I suppose it’s fine to let him have his way. I press my body tighter against his and quietly laugh. “Promise.”

Today’s activity, despite my hesitation, is a hiking trip. An event that would almost seem like a task if not for Diego’s wild enthusiasm about it. He’s dressed in a sleeveless tank and mid-thigh length athletic shorts, hair haphazardly pulled into a loose ponytail that sticks out from above the clasp of his heather-gray baseball cap.

“Right then.” Diego shoves his phone in front of my face, screen so close I can’t even make out what he’s showing me. “We’re on the hunt for one of these beauties.”

Only slightly annoyed – likely due more to sleepiness than anything – I gently lower his wrist and look at the photo on his phone. A large lizard with black-and-orange skin that almost appears beaded stares back at me with tiny eyes. I wrack my brain for the name of the species, nearly confident in my guess considering he’s mentioned it a few times before.

“Gila monster?” I hesitantly ask, immediate relief hitting me when Diego grins back at me, his eyes likely sparkling even behind the aviators he’s wearing.

“I’ve never seen one in person.” He excitedly flips through his photos, landing on one of a huddle of hatchlings. “Look how cute.”

“Are they common out here?” I follow Diego as we set out along the marked path, desert terrain crunching beneath our sneakers.

“They’re rare,” Diego continues, lacing his fingers with mine after he tucks his phone away in his pocket. “Extremely so, apparently. But.” He glances at me and grins enough for the sharp points of his teeth to be fully visible. “Yours truly has a way with these beasts.”

The desert sun is unforgiving as we make our way across rough ground and up into rocky hillsides. Diego entertains, spouting off his vast knowledge of reptiles and continually pointing out if he happens to see a common breed within our range of sight. A photography session ensues every single time, him cautiously taking several of just the animal on its own before asking me to include him in the pictures as well.

It’s likely not common to see this many in general, or for them to be so calm in the presence of people, but maybe it’s due to Diego’s stand powers that he’s able to attract them without doing much. Every so often Diego gives low, animalistic growling or chirping sounds in an effort to further entice them, and it’s only me reminding him that we can’t smuggle a lizard from its natural habitat that drags him away from interacting with them. But hey, at this rate, maybe we will see a gila monster.

Our path is clearly marked and relatively free of other travelers, making it a mostly smooth trek farther and farther up a particularly high mesa. Roughly an hour of walking at a leisurely pace brings us closer to the final destination, made obvious by a high arch casting a thick shadow over the pair of us.

“Nearly there,” Diego huffs, pausing for breath after several minutes of a steep incline. He glances back at me, momentarily removing his aviators to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Alright?”

Equally sweaty, I take a hefty sip from our shared water bottle and give neither a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. “I’ll be fine when we’re at the top.” I pass the container to him and he quickly indulges as well.

In the end, the trek is far more than worth it. When we reach the top of the mesa we’re blessed with a flat surface that’s much easier to maintain balance on. The thick, towering arch we’d seen while making our way up shields the sky from our view, offering a much needed reprieve from the blistering heat of the sun.

“Look at that.” Diego’s voice comes from several feet away from me, breaking me from my fixation on the sandstone structure above us. When I whip my head around to face him I find him standing farther out towards the edge, marveling at the view.

There aren’t many things that bring Diego to a speechless state, but this seems to be doing the trick for both of us. The sight is breathtaking; sprawling desert seems to go on forever, dotted with isolated buttes and deep canyons, all surrounded by thick, fiery layers of sand and watched over by a crisp blue sky and pillowy clouds.

Who knows how long we stand there like this, fully transfixed and motionless even as hot wind fans across our faces. It’s only when Diego’s hand grasps mine, easily lacing our fingers together, that I feel grounded again.

“Alright, you win.” I try not to smile at the way he instantly turns to face me. “The hike was worth it.”

“It’s useless to fight me on these things. I saw the photos and knew.” Diego squeezes my hand and softly chuckles. “Quite ridiculous that a Brit is acting as a tour guide for his American girlfriend.”

Ridiculous isn’t the word I would use. Thoughtful… doting…loving… selfless, even. Those are the words my mind conjures up when I consider just how much planning he’s had to do for this entire trip.

“You’re way too good to me.” I prepare myself for his scolding, but this time he doesn’t call me out for my overly considerate tendencies.

Instead, he tightly wraps an arm around my shoulder, tugging me against his body and sighing blissfully when I embrace him in return. “I only want the best for you, love.”

“Could’ve just locked the two of us in one room for an entire weekend and that would have sufficed.”

“Nonsense.” Diego waves the comment off and releases his hold on me, allowing us both to appreciate the beautiful landscape in front of us all over again. “Besides, I wanted to see it for myself.”

“It’s gorgeous, way cooler than I remember as a kid. Is there anything like this back in the UK?”

“Not even close.” Diego laughs, shaking his head as he appears to reminisce on his time back home. “Certainly not anywhere near Manchester.”

“Bummer. Guess you’re gonna have to stay forever in the States where it’s more interesting, huh?”

That’s a question he doesn’t even entertain, because the answer is so plainly obvious.

“We have hillsides, I spent a great number of drunken nights hosting bonfires up there. Father would have disowned me much quicker if he’d known about that.” Diego shrugs. “Those times were great for loosening up and screaming until my lungs hurt.”

“Screaming?” Only a tad baffled by the mental image, I give him a perplexed look.

“That’s right,” he instantly responds as if it’s something I should be familiar with, “how else does a teenage boy let out all his rage without bashing his father’s skull in?”

“So you just… went up into the hills and screamed?”

“What, does that not sound appealing to you?” Diego appears equally puzzled. “Don’t you ever feel like letting it all out?”

“Of course I do.” In fact, the idea of screaming into a void until my voice is gone has oddly interested me for years now, but the logistics of being able to do such a thing feel more complicated than its worth. “But I’d prefer not to alarm people.”

“Nevermind that!” Diego rolls his eyes and takes a couple steps away from me. “Look, I’ll do it right now.”

“Diego, don’t! There’s people around here, they’ll think you’re being eaten alive or falling to your death or something.” My anxiety is quickly bubbling up as I watch him teasingly bring a hand up to rest next to his face, as if he’s about to yodel his heart out.

“I’m not going to scream in pain,” he scoffs. “Relax.”

With that, Diego straightens up, takes a deep breath, and lets out the loudest sound I have ever heard him make. It’s less a scream and more an enthusiastic shout, echoing against the thick sandstone pillars and blending seamlessly with the strong breeze. There’s only a couple people up here with us, but they pay him no mind beyond a quick glance. When my own concern fades, I’m instead taken with how beautiful he is in this moment, blonde hair blowing in the wind, face alight with pure joy, chest heaving as he takes another deep breath to recover.

“See?” He directs his attention back to me, flashing a victorious smile and dismissively waving his hands in the air. “Nothing to it. No harm done. Now it’s your turn.”

“Absolutely not.” Even as I fold my arms in defiance, Diego grapples for my hands and cocks his head, a pout pulling at his lips. “Diego, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Beyond sheer embarrassment, I suppose I don’t have a good reason. As I chew on my lip in thought, he continues trying to persuade me.

“I swear it’s fine, darling. Just think about how good it would feel.”

“I just don’t see the point –”

“Look.” Diego tugs his aviators off his face again and folds them, hooking them on the collar of his tank top. He’s likely trying to ease my worry by looking at me directly, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t working at least a little bit. “Imagine you’re back at work. Think about how frustrating it is, how hard they work you, how belittling it is.”

“I thought we were on vacation.” It’s partly an attempt to change the direction of this exchange.

“Shh, listen.” He quickly dismisses my questioning. “Just think about it, genuinely. Mull it over.” Diego pauses as I do just that, eyes scanning my face for a moment. “How does it feel?”

“Well, it pisses me off, of course.”

“Right. So take that,” he juts his thumb out towards the landscape, “and unleash it. When will you get another chance to do that?”

I hate that he has a point. “Probably not for a very long time.”

Without another word, Diego steps back and gestures broadly towards the endless horizon, inviting me to do exactly what he’d previously demonstrated. Granted, it takes me a fair amount of mental preparation, but eventually I swallow back the anxiety filling my throat and cup both hands around my mouth, unleashing a booming yell that houses a mixture of largely pent-up emotions.

Diego stares at me with satisfaction, both for knowing he was correct and for watching the stress practically melt off of me. It’s a shame I have my gaze fixed on the sky as I recover from my emotional release, because Diego’s expression is one of total affection, almost as if he’s so transfixed by me that he’s been rendered speechless all over again.

I take one more deep breath and turn on my heel to face him, shrugging in defeat. “Alright. You were right. Again.”

“It’s a wonder why you even question me anymore.” Diego returns to my side, embraces me again and presses a fleeting kiss to my forehead.

“Thank you, Diego. For all of this.”

“Anything for my beloved. I assume you’re satisfied?”

“God, yeah.” I turn my head, resting my cheek against his shoulder and staring out into the desert again. “I don’t think anything could make this any more perfect.”

Diego hums happily and shifts slightly, but his embrace doesn’t falter. Maybe, if I hadn’t chosen to admire the horizon, I’d have caught the way he’d reached into his pocket as if to grab something. But the action is one of hesitation, ultimately going nowhere.

For our last night at the resort, Diego has dinner delivered again. Our bodies are exhausted even after a refreshing shower, so we decide to relax outside by the firepit for the remainder of the night. The sky is starting to darken and my eyelids are getting heavy, but Diego fills the evening air with commentary on the flurry of pictures we’d taken on our hike. He seems quite pleased with the entire experience, face alight with excitement as he expresses his desire to show his coworkers when he returns to work. Eventually, though, he tucks his phone away and silence settles between us.

“Should we turn in for the night?” I ask, noting the way he’s already sitting up straight and swiveling in his seat to face me. “I’m exhausted.”

“Why the rush? I haven’t had a chance to give you your birthday gift.”

When I thump my head back against my chair, he chuckles. “Is that not what this entire trip has been?”

“Part of it, yes. Now, promise me you won’t shove me into the pool again.”

“Do I have a choice?” His smirk tells me no.

In one quick motion, Diego brandishes a sealed envelope from his robe, holding it tightly between his pointer and middle finger as he extends it towards me with a confident quirk of one eyebrow.

I groan, begrudgingly taking the gift. “You have to learn that I hate surprises.”

“Relax,” Diego croons. “It’s not as if I left you hanging for days, you can’t pin this irritation on your anxiety.”

I have half a mind to tell him off for psychoanalyzing me, but it’s clear he’s joking. Gift anxiety be damned, I hesitantly slip my finger in the envelope’s gap and tug until its seal is broken. Diego watches intently, eager to experience my joy; sometimes I’m shocked he doesn’t film me when I receive his gifts.

If he ever had, this would have been a prime opportunity. As soon as I see the beginnings of the concert tickets held inside, my jaw drops and my hands still.

“You didn’t –” I start, only to be interrupted.

“They aren’t the best seats, unfortunately, but I know how badly you’ve wanted to see them live.”

I could have foregone this entire trip, all the experiences we’ve shared over the past couple days, every expensive meal and dip in our private pool. All of it feels meaningless right now as I hold two tickets to Arctic Monkeys in my unworthy hands.

“Diego, holy shit.” My body acts on its own, rising to my feet and crossing the short distance between our chairs only to straddle his waist and cup his face in my hands. “Kiss me.”

Thoroughly pleased with the reception, Diego grins and fulfills my wish. A brief lapse in contact only occurs when I realize I’ve left the envelope in my seat, anxiously glancing over to make sure it’s still resting there, unaffected by the slight breeze.

“I hope you noticed,” Diego takes the opportunity to further impress me. “It’s on the date of our anniversary. It’s as if Alex himself knew.”

“God, I love you,” I reiterate, as if my actions haven’t said it enough.

Diego returns the sentiment, clutching me tight against his chest. “I went through hell to get those. Tried to get better seats by appealing to Alex directly but the bloke wouldn’t answer my DMs.” A smidgen of disdain laces his tone.

“As stubborn as you are, there’s no way that would have worked, Dee.”

“You’d think he’d have the decency to answer an old friend, but,” Diego heavily sighs, “seems fame does things to people.”

Not this again. Since the day we first bonded over a mutual love of the band, Diego’s been insistent on previously meeting Alex at a show. This alone is fairly believable, but the man always takes it one step further, claiming he’d actually befriended the frontman ages ago. Much as he rarely admits to admiring anyone, Alex Turner clearly holds a very special place in Diego’s heart; one that, while completely one-sided, seems to hint at his attraction to the vocalist as well.

“You wanted to rekindle your romance,” I tease him, letting my voice rise as if telling an age-old love story. “I get it, that’s your real motive.”

“Come off it,” Diego scoffs against my shoulder and cuddles closer as if to prove otherwise. “I’ll admit he’s a good-looking man but clearly he has no interest in me.”

“Well, he’s missing out, but hey.” I lift my head to give him a genuine smile. “That means I get you all to myself.”

Diego can’t hide the hint of pink spreading across his cheeks, he’s properly flustered and it’s quite cute how he averts his stare for a moment and purses his lips.

“Now please tell me that’s all you’re going to throw at me, I’m not sure how much more I can handle.” It’s mostly a joke, but the sheer amount of things he’s done for me this weekend is starting to feel overwhelming.

“I did have one last thing planned, but it seems you’re not interested in your last gift.” Diego dramatically pouts. There’s a glint still ever-present in his eyes, though I never would have needed the hint anyway.

“And what might that be?” Cocking my head in mock curiosity causes his previous pout to curl up into a sly smile.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

Fingertips playfully gliding across his neck, I list off my predictions with as sultry a tone as I can pull off. “Couldn’t possibly be this overactive mouth of yours.” A gentle tap against his bottom lip punctuates my guess.

“Perhaps.” Diego watches me intently, voice barely above a whisper.

“Or,” I continue, dragging my other palm against the thin fabric of his shirt. “Maybe you’ll let me look at you all night.”

“I think you might be getting warmer, but be careful.” He squeezes my thigh. “Guess incorrectly and you might get nothing.”

“Please, I know you better than that.” I finally reach the subject of my final guess, palming his crotch over his linen joggers. “I’m sure you’d like to get me in bed.”

Diego lowly chuckles and shifts slightly in his seat, clearly affected by the simplicity of my touch. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yeah. When do I get my reward?”

As if my words have given him the exact signal he’d been waiting for, Diego’s arms curl around my waist and he pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Right now.”

Increased strength from his stand aids him in fully picking me up when he rises from his seat, but he takes a quick second to grasp the previously abandoned envelope. It gets tossed somewhere amidst our luggage when we make it inside, and he wastes no time in placing me gently atop the mattress of the suite’s indoor bed. The robe he’d been wearing quietly thumps to the floor as he quickly closes the minuscule distance between us.

“How would you like this to play out, darling?” His voice is sweet, signifying his desire to fully please me this evening. His lips are less so, aggressive and wet as he covers my neck in desperate kisses.

“Surprise me,” I manage, though I’m already becoming distracted by the increasing heat filling my body. “Whatever you want, Dee.”

Diego tuts, hovering over my ear to reiterate his wishes. “Nevermind me, go ahead. I want to please you.”

As hard as it is sometimes to allow myself to indulge in his worship, I remind myself that this weekend is for me, that he’d likely planned this specific moment way ahead of time.

“Kiss me.” It’s likely not the answer he expected, but Diego wastes no time in following my instruction.

Quiet settles between us, Diego moving to hover over my body, his palms taking their place against the sheets on either side of my head. Both our eyes flutter closed as I feel his hair tickling my cheeks, his warm breath following suit before he kisses me with zeal. His flaxen mane makes the perfect spot for my fingers to glide and further spur him on, not that he needs the encouragement.

This tender moment lasts for a few minutes, but Diego never can resist the quickness with which he hungers for more. Having his fill of my lips, he begins descending and pressing wet open-mouthed kisses across my neck only to be interrupted by the fabric of my t-shirt. Diego softly clicks in his tongue in slight frustration but the hem is quickly lifted to accommodate one of his palms pressing flat against my stomach. I shimmy from underneath him, allowing his hand to tug the garment upwards until my chest is fully exposed to him. A groan sounds from deep within his throat at the sight of me as his lips continue their original mission.

Worshiping my body seems to be his mission tonight, and he knows exactly where I want him. His tongue teases one of my nipples, flicking and dragging across the quickly hardening bud only to pull it tight between his lips, suckling with enthusiasm. I have my hands still gripping loosely on his hair as I fail to resist the sounds of pleasure spilling from my lips.

Diego pulls off my breast with an exaggerated pop and nuzzles his cheek across the soaked surface. “My sweet girl,” he coos, “I can smell you.”

His heightened senses never fail to make my body ache with desire. There’s something so arousing in knowing he’s keenly aware of my scent, my need to feel him between my legs, whether it’s his face or his cock doesn’t matter. Diego makes a show of slowly backing up until he’s standing at the foot of the bed, fully illuminated by the warm glow of the sunset leaking into the bedroom. When he grasps the underside of my thighs and pulls me closer I giggle, spreading my legs only to lock him in an embrace.

“You’re soaked through.” Diego firmly places his palm against my clothed lower half, as if to confirm his observation. Of course he’s correct, my breath hitches in my throat at his touch and he smiles lasciviously at the effect he so easily has on me.

Slowly and sensually, Diego unties the loosely tied cord of my joggers. His fingertips are warm and nimble as they hook into the waistband, gradually tugging the bottoms down and off my legs. Before they’ve even hit the floor he already has one hand peeling the hem of my underwear down to follow suit. The chilly air makes me shiver as he presses both palms to my inner thighs, spreading me far enough for my lower half to be fully exposed just for him.

Obscenity practically radiates off of him in the way he licks his lips and hungrily eyes me. He takes a deep whiff of the air and shakily exhales, my scent filling his nostrils so fully that he quivers with arousal.

“I’ve ached for you all day, love.” Diego flicks his gaze up to stare salaciously into my eyes for a brief moment. “I constantly crave you, I want you every minute of every day.” He presses his thumb against his lips and gives it a generous coating of spit only to distribute it onto my clit in a circular motion.

I moan desperately, lifting my hips in an effort to achieve more friction. “Diego, please.”

“You’re so cute when you beg,” Diego coos, “s’pose there’s no sense in wasting time.”

Diego drops to his knees and breathes hot against my wetness. Fiery sunlight sets his hair beautifully ablaze while his tongue works its magic, the softness of the wind perfectly accentuates the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth as he devours me like a man starved. God, he’s incredible; I’ve known this since the first time he’d gone down on me months ago, but even still, every single time feels like a religious experience.

My body is already showing all the signs of oncoming release, but Diego is way ahead of me. He growls against me and rises to his feet, eagerly slipping his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His joggers and underwear quickly follow, his cock springing upwards and slapping wetly against his skin. I’m dangerously close and even the simple sight of him threatens to push me over the edge. Diego takes his place above me again, assertive in the way he kisses me and laps up into my mouth. We share moans that get lost between each other's lips when his clock glides across my clit.

“Oh, I can’t take it much longer,” Diego pants, though his hips continue bucking against mine.

“Fuck me,” I beg, grappling at the nape of his neck. “I need you inside me right now.”

Unable to deny me even a little bit, Diego reaches between us and presses his tip to my entrance. His breath shudders as he easily slips inside me and his eyes roll back with pure ecstasy when he plunges himself to the hilt. A slow thrust drives me to whine and softly plead, his name delicious as it rolls off my tongue.

Diego fucks me without abandon, huffing desperately and growling with every thrust of his hips. It takes only a few seconds for him to rise to his knees, momentarily hooking his arms around my thighs to tug me closer against his crotch before gripping the sides of my waist and moving my body to accommodate every snap of his hips. This is how I like him best, chest fully visible, pecs coated in a light sheen of sweat, head rolling back while he moans and mumbles my name like an obscene prayer. With a heavy gulp he returns his attention to me, locking his eyes with mine and furrowing his brow in an unspoken warning of his oncoming orgasm.

The force and speed of his thrusts increase and my gaze stays fixed on him, not knowing where to focus my attention. As he drags a hand through his already tousled hair the monogram necklace adorning his neck glints in the glow of the sunset; another wave of pure pleasure wracks my body at the realization that he’s mine, I’m his, that his body so perfectly serves me, that his soul is so intimately entangled with mine.

Diego groans, hips stuttering until he knows it’s only a matter of time. He resists for as long as possible, but ultimately slips out from me and tightly grasps his cock. “Fuck, I’m –”

It takes only a few pumps of his fist before he spills out across my chest, hot and thick and punctuated by an animalistic groan. He’s still eager to fuck me, wasting no time in sliding inside me again and studying me closely as he fucks me through the remainder of his orgasm, his thumb again paying close attention to my most sensitive spot.

I feel the coiling of my core, my toes curl and my thighs clamp tightly against him when it hits me. As I grasp desperately at his forearms, he stays sheathed inside me and moans at the feeling of my walls tightly holding him in place. Only when I’ve fully felt the force of every second of my release does he slowly slip out from me and descend once more. His hands find mine, pressing them down against the sheets as he lovingly laces our fingers together. This time our kisses are more gentle, his tenderness returning to care for me in the aftermath of our lovemaking.

Inevitably, exhaustion takes over and Diego rolls to rest on his back, chest still gently heaving as I follow his lead and drape myself across his stomach. His lips are parted to accommodate his labored breath, his eyes are equally expressing his fatigue but they still light up when he meets my gaze. As if pulled by some invisible force, our hands find each other again, perfectly fitting together as we both squeeze; mine is something akin to a wordless ‘thank you’, and I think his might be ‘my pleasure’.

I take a deep breath, letting the chilly desert air fill my lungs as I press my cheek tight against his still damp skin. Gently peppered kisses draw a pleased sigh from Diego’s mouth; there’s nothing but fondness present on his face as he brushes a hand through my hair.

“It’s good every single time,” I decide to praise him, claiming the smile that pulls at his lips as a reward. “You’re amazing, Dee. Unhinged, but amazing.”

“I know.” Diego curls his lip further to reveal one sharp canine.

The gloating is so classically Diego that I can’t even be annoyed by it. Instead I blow a raspberry against his stomach and revel in the scoff it pulls from him. There’s enough strength in my body now for me to lift myself and crawl closer to him; I press my forehead against his and giggle softly at the way he nudges my nose with his own.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips. “Thank you.”

Diego quietly returns the sentiment, only audible to me and just barely-so. I wrap my arms around him, tugging him into a tight hug that further transitions into our bare bodies pressed flush against each other, limbs entangled in an intimate embrace. I’m unsure how many times we softly express our love for each other in this moment, but eventually sleep takes us as the star-littered sky bathes us in moonlight.

Unfortunately, all trips must come to an end, and leaving the comfort of our suite is no easy task. Diego’s final gift to me comes in the form of breakfast in bed which he lovingly offers me after waking me up with a kiss to my forehead. He quickly chows down on his own meal then leaves me to relax while he packs up our belongings. One last shower is shared between the two of us before we finally head out.

The drive to the airport is relatively quiet aside from Diego’s usual singing. I’ve started to drift off again, but suddenly he’s stopped the car along the largely empty road, excitedly staring out his window. Without looking at me he reaches over to gently shake my shoulder to make sure I’m awake.

“Darling. Look.”

Groggily, I sit up straight and glance out his window, immediately understanding his sudden need to stop driving. Resting atop the base of a small butte just a few feet away from the road sits a lizard with orange and black beaded skin.

“Oh my god,” I mumble, as if the creature will somehow hear me from in our car, “is that…”

“A gila monster.”

Diego tries to suppress his excitement, carefully pulling off to the side of the road, all the while maintaining a fixed stare on the lizard he’s been so adamant about spotting this entire trip. This is the most cautious I think I’ve ever seen him; as soon as he exits the car he’s practically tip-toeing towards the animal, slowly pulling his phone from his pocket and snapping a photo when he’s close enough.

I watch from my seat, but when he starts to gesture for me to join him I can’t bring myself to say no. He hands his phone off to me, a wordless request that I quickly understand. Without disturbing the lizard, he crouches down and faces me, gesturing towards it with one thumb as his face lights up with exhilaration.

I take several photos of him until he waves me closer again and takes his phone back. This time, he pulls me to crouch down with him, making sure to include me in the photo as well. The gila monster is visible from between us, though still far enough back that we don’t disturb it. Diego is giddy as we rush back to the car, immediately erupting into a flurry of excited laughter as soon as he settles back into his seat.

“Finally…” He flips through the photos and stops at the image of both of us. “We can officially call this trip a complete success.”

“I knew you had some kind of ulterior motive,” I tease him, reaching over to affectionately pat his cheek. “Turns out you just wanted to see some lizard.”

“Please.” Diego presses a quick kiss to my palm. “This is just the icing on the cake.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you.” When I lean closer he follows my lead, gradually closing the distance until he’s whispering against my lips.

“And I love it.”

Sometime amidst our flurry of kisses, the gila monster slinks away as if understanding a bit of privacy might be necessary. Sure, maybe with this detour the drive takes a little longer than expected, and maybe we have less free time before our flight back home, but it’s worth it to indulge for just a little while longer in the vast desert that will forever encapsulate a myriad of unforgettable memories.

#my writing #dinokat #modern au #praying to the tumblr gods once again that formatting won't fuck up and chunks won't be lost to the void #this is rlly silly and long so i fully don't expect anyone to read all of it or any of it at all #but i worked on it for a while and i like it a lot so i figure .. why not #i wanted to do spot illustrations but i ran out of time and motivation HJFKDS #so hopefully the silly little pictures are nice enough

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lunanoc · 7 months

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Fic Stats Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and your fic with the least amount of words.

tagged by both @spinecorset and @tat-ch sorry it's taken me this long to actually do this, thank you for tagging! ironically i have less published fics than there are slots for this game and all of these entries are dmbj, specifically pingxie fics (shocking i know)

first most hits and fourth most comments : in a landscape of having to repeat i have mixed feelings about this one mostly because it's the first thing i wrote after over a decade of not writing anything (and i was a teenager then) and is also the first piece of personal writing i ever finished period. so a lot of it was experimental and trying to get a feel for writing again in general. i tend to view it as the weaker fic of the ones i've written so far because of that among other things (like it being written at a time i was still largely unfamiliar with the books and i feel it shows in some details), but on the flipside, it's also probably one of if not my most self-indulgent one since it's a timeloop fic and i love that trope a lot. i also wrote it for a good friend (you know who you are <3) so for that it's also special

second most kudos: alight and tempered coincidentally also written for aforementioned good friend (<3). i'm tentative to say this mostly because i tend to be hypercritical of anything i make more often than not (i guess that comes with being your own beta), but i think this one might be my favorite of the things i've written so far. it's got iron triangle shenanigans, xiaoge pov, wu xie pov, and i like to think it has a nice amount of variety going on from comic beats to more serious parts and is overall fluff because i'm a sap. idk i just like exploring the unspoken elements of pingxie's relationship since so much of what they say to each other is in subtext between them anyway so this is just one attempt at it

third most bookmarks: and there will be time this one is 100% self-indulgent, case in point i impulse wrote it for wu xie's birthday week since i saw practically no one doing anything for it so i took matters into my own hands lol. i tagged it "gonna give him all the things" "xiaoge is too" and tbh that's it that's the fic. it's pingxie spending a quiet day together with no fanfare, not much else.

fifth most words and least words: my hand was the one you reached for another one also written for another good friend (you know who you are too <3) i swear practically everything i write ends up as prompted or unprompted gifts for other people lol. the entire premise of this was "hey wu xie studied architecture and in the books is mentioned as sketching a fair amount, what if instead of journaling during the sha hai period as he usually does because it was so harrowing he had a sketchbook of xiaoge doodles he carried around" followed by "what if xiaoge found the sketchbook later though" and that's it that's the fic. i'm not 100% sure about the characterization for this one to be completely honest but like everything else i'm just gonna leave it there because it's there anyway

bonus because considering i only have one other fic i get to shamelessly plug for once ok: the cruelest month and again written for another good friend (this is a pattern and yes you also know who you are <3) this one is very different from the other ones and was definitely the hardest to write for a number of reasons. the pingxie is mostly background in that xiaoge isn't there for a majority of the fic because this is essentially a detailed character study of wu xie throughout the entirety of sha hai and what leads up to it. which is very daunting. and i'm not convinced i did the complexity it deserves justice. so it tries to be an exploration of his mindset, of how that plays into his relationships with other characters, and how that ultimately plays into his gradual realization of his feelings for xiaoge while xiaoge is behind the gate. with a "what if the snake pheromones gave him the latent ability to perceive intent and emotion from the people around him too" twist. it's about 8 different things in a trenchcoat but well

tagging @shaish, @kelly42fox, @child-of-the-fairy-folk, @difeisheng, and anyone else who feels up to it!

#tag game #fanfic

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singsweetmelodies · 1 year

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katie 💕 omg i am so intrigued by all of your WIPs and i really want to ask about love’s a game wanna play bc i love it with my entire heart but also. you can hear it in the silence????? i know nothing about it and yet i’m a bit in love with it already 👀

sol <333 i can always count on you to ask the good ones... ILYSM 😍❤️❤️ and thank you so much for this ask!! 💕

okay, so, let's talk about love's a game, wanna play aka the fake dating au - which, yes, i did actually edit within this month. this WEEK, actually! 🥳 at this point, i'm considering that serious progress. welp.

my brain has been dead the last couple of weeks/months, i'm afraid 🥲🥲 but i've been rereading my own works in hopes that something might inspire me there (yes yes, i am my own best inspiration, etc - but i write absolutely self-indulgently, so, 😌) and the long and the short of it is: GOD, i forgot how much i actually love the fake dating au. wow. it is SO FUN!!

and when i opened my WIP document, it turned out that i have an almost-complete [spoiler] scene written for chapter 7 👀👀 yes, that's right. they will finally [spoiler] in chapter 7 😏👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

that's already saying MORE than enough to fulfill my ultimate purpose of being a tease 😌 but, since i love you so much, sol, i will give you a little more:

hehe <3

and as for you can hear it in the silence - WELL, that's one i'm going to be very mysterious about, and not share anything more than the fact that it's a birthday fic for someone very special ❤️ (it's so late oh my god but IT'S FINE 🥲🙈 they deserve the best only ❤️❤️) like i said, my brain has been alphabet soup lately. but the few snippets i have for this fic so far, it's been good alphabet soup, so hopefully they will love it when it's finally done 🤞❤️

thanks again for asking! sorry (not sorry) for being such a horrible tease with the sneak peeks, hehe. LOVE YOUUUU 🥰❤️❤️❤️💕

#asks & answers #wip game #sol tag 💕 <333 #SOL I LOVE YOU SORRY FOR BEING SUCH A TEASE BAHAHA #this reply has made me 🤭🤭🥰 so much #I HOPE YOU LIKE MY SNIPPET. hehehe. mwah 😘😁😁#and tysmmmm for asking <333 you are as always the BEST ❤️#WIPs tag 📝

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badass-at-fandoming · 2 years

Note

Suppose this anon had Beckett brainworms and a growing itch to include him in a piece of writing but lacked the motivation (and time) to track down and read the material in which he appears (except VTMB ofc but that's a given). What would you say are the bullet points of his character? And furthermore, is there anything that would automatically classify as OOC?

Is it my birthday? This asks makes me so happy I feel like it's my birthday. 🥳💜😄

I suppose to start, a pretty standard disclaimer that in the World of Darkness, character consistency is [crashing noise as all previous books are thrown out the window]. That is to say, you can basically do what you want. You're encouraged to mold everything, including meta-plot NPCs, to your taste. Layer that onto the inherent nature of fanfiction and it's god's own country out there, and you're god.

But to not cop out of your question entirely, I do have a preferred interpretation of Beckett. Le bullet points below ~

Snark - "I haven’t as yet had a chance to pore over it with my fine-tooth comb. I think I have one in my bag."

High Humanity - the Single Good Dude in a world of assholes

His ultimate goal is to pursue knowledge - fucking NERD

Good at fighting/surviving - by virtue of being a Gangrel and good friends with Lucita

Annoys people yet...

Wants people to talk to - most of his in-universe friendships are with fellow nerds and good conversationalists with a certain avid zest for life.

Touch-starved - this is like, purely self-indulgent, but I Need It

Shyly cares for others - more shows someone he likes them, rather than tell them

Bisexual Goals - have you seen this list. I'm also fond of trans man!Beckett and aroace!Beckett.

When in doubt, remember what archetype Beckett is. He's Indiana Jones. #WhatWouldIndyDo

For me, the ultimate litmus test for his character is if the work's Beckett would go warn the fledgling in VTMB. Similar to how people test if a Batman writer has earned their salt: "is he good with children? If not, then the writer's just re-creating Punisher."

Beckett flips a lot of stereotypes on their heads. In a Clan all about going feral, he's well-educated and eloquent. In a culture where Elders care little about anything, he practices empathy; in fact, he gets on extremely well with neonates. He loves talking with them about their ideas and experiences. He will drop everything to go save a friend. Hell, he saved his greatest enemy! Has he made mistakes? Of course! Has he committed reprehensible acts in the name of some "greater goal" of acquiring Some Random Book? Yup. But for every mistake, he learns and tries to do better next time. He's kind, in a universe which greatly discourages that behavior.

I could go on, but I don't want to add yet another super long post to people's dashes, hahaha. Best of luck, Nonny! Please post your fic when you finish writing it, because I'd love to read it :D If you have more questions, my ask box remains open.

#ask #anonymous #text post #cuthbert beckett #vtm

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retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

picture me | johnny (m)

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. The mirror.

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

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

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

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

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

“Did you come back for this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, just different things here and there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you still didn’t get his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turned, huh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Two places?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I’ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight.

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

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oldsouldreamer85 · 2 years

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Okay. Okay. Okay. I know we’re all still reeling from the last few minutes from tonight’s 9-1-1. Like, WOW...🥺😭 But I’ve once again (for my own sanity) decided to let the showrunners (and you other fabulous fic writers 🥰) tackle the trauma/drama etc. when it comes to Buddie. Hope that’s cool with y’all.💕💜

Now me? I’m just gonna go off to my little AU Buddie fic I’ve got in the works, have them deal with issues on a milder level (not entirely drama/angst free ‘cause hey, I AM an angst queen) and give them something I desperately need. Something that brings me joy, distraction and peace ultimately. And not just ‘cause it’s almost my birthday either. 😏 Okay, fine. You caught me. That’s exactly why I’m doing this. Self-indulgence at its finest. Here’s hoping I get it done in time for this weekend. 🤣🤣💕💕 @elvensorceress

#about me #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #my loves

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cinnaminsvga · 2 years

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i did that for you?! when i saw your post i wanted to cry! cause i've experienced losing interest in everything i love including bts, but idk i always come back home eventually. so i've come back to them but nothing else so far, i don't know if i will to anything else. i am also silent stan. i don't talk but i do love and support even if silently so i figure that's also important too. (for me.) anyway post hit a little to close to home, but i agreed yoongi would be proud of you in general.

you remind me of kind of like an old friend not a friendship that ended badly but just a before you know it you never see them/talk to them and it's no ones fault. but sometimes there's things that remind you of them. kind of way? is that weird? that sounds way weirder than i meant it too. anyway i do think of you especially during yoongis birthday time cause that love you have for him and would post, to me was unmatched and genuine. (i also relate you to frogs?? for some reason)

but hey do whatever makes you happy okay? i hope you don't ever feel pressured to do anything or post anything. it is/feels (good) weird to see someone be like "you reminded me to also love" and if that's what i did for you then that makes me feel good. i hope you are taking care of yourself and being gentle to you<3 but just know me and yoongi are/would be proud of you! and want you to succeed! (this is not a goodbye btw just letting you know you have silent support)

yeah, it’s been kinda sad that i’ve been losing interest in bangtan. like, i still listen to their music and watch some of their content, but to a much lesser extent. i think the biggest shift for me has been my lack of interaction with fandom interaction i guess? i don’t read fics or engage in fandom culture as much, which is honestly what usually keeps me invested in any of my interests. it sucks, but it just means i’m growing i suppose!

and you’re not weird!! i’m seriously touched that something like yoongi’s birthday would remind you of me,,, like that birthday letter tradition i did was mostly a self-indulgent/cringe thing i did because i’m really Bad at expressing myself but somehow,,, yoongi got me good 🥴 i do love and admire him greatly, even to this day! so when i said “anon you made me remember how to love,” your ask genuinely reminded me that i do love that little cat boy, even if i don’t show it as often as i used to. so yeah, you really got me good too, anon! (and omg i can’t believe you equate me to frogs... that is the Ultimate Compliment i am blushing like a shoujo female protag)

and yes, i will continue to do what makes me happy :D i still want to write stories from time to time, but perhaps not as the frequently as i once did (which is funny, considering that i was already slow to begin with lol) but um!! i just wanted to say thank you to your very sweet message, you made me smile :D it’s been a while since i’ve gotten this sort of anon ask, so thank you! hope you’re doing well wherever you are!

#im actually writing a puppycat yoongi fic rn #its gonna be short n sweet but i just wanted to do something since its been a while #stretch them writer bones!! (debatable if i had any to begin with lmao)#i think its mostly bc a lot of my older yoongi fics have been getting notes recently #and rereading some of them made me remember how much i miss characterising him #bc... well... my version of yoongi in fics is literally just Me. and im a leo so i like talking about myself HASJDJKASJD slash half joke 🤪#anyway... time to get to work #Anonymous #answered

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sitp-recs · 2 years

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Hidden Gems by cryptonym

Smut lovers, rejoice! I’m so here for talented authors writing self-indulgent porn, they always bring something bold and refreshing to the table and IMO they should get way more love and appreciation for their contributions to the PWP (is it though??) genre. Pick your poison and enjoy the delicious goodies below!

Narcissus (2015, E, 4k) - unconventional threesome (H/D/D 😏), established relationship, hot AND emotional, I stg this is peak romance!

Harry wants to give Draco something really special for his birthday. What could more special than Draco, himself?! Read my rec here.

Wish You Were Here (2014, E, 17k) - okay so I lied and not all recs are PWP but who cares, not me. This has brilliant time-travel shenanigans, scorching age gap smut and a devastating open ending that I love, I’m here for a time travel tragedy pls and thank

[Snape] leans on the table, towering over me like a vulture watching its prey, his eyes boring into me. “If I were in your position, I would be considering my history as I know it. If you are here now, you were always meant to be here.”

Let's Go Outside (2014, E, 24k) - kinky Harry! the ultimate exhibitionism fic, lots of public sex and a surprise amount of feelings too, D/s dynamics as a treat 🔥

Harry's done with the sofa, the hall and the kitchen table, baby. Read my rec here.

#hidden gems #day 4

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peechbea · 3 years

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@yukiteruakari said: Ooooh I wanna know more about your headcanons :>>

idk if you meant abt the fic or Leon in general but i’m using this opportunity to ramble anyway, rip-

right off the bat, i hc that Leon’s mother died during childbirth and his father was devastated about it, but in order to support himself and Leon, he moved in with his brother and sister-in-law. since Leon grew up in the same house as Kanon, that's why he views her as more of a sister than a cousin

this is one i’ve already talked about here BUT, i hc Leon’s real name to be Kazuo Kuwata, but that’s also his father’s name, so before he changed his name, people called his father by his name and then they called Leon “Kazzy” or “Kaz”

( hearing people call Kazuichi “Kaz” still throws him for a loop )

he doesn’t like violence actually!! he’s temperamental and snarky sometimes, but he’ll avoid violence whenever he can, unless he has to, yknow,,,defend himself, just in case that would ever happen lol-

to add onto the above, i also like to think he stays far away from violence because he didn’t as a kid and it landed him in juvie ( which i also like to think is where he met Mondo briefly, but neither of them really remember each other )

and to add onto THAT, while he will avoid throwing a punch if he can, he will absolutely intervene if other people are getting hurt. even at the risk of his own safety, he’ll be the diversion so the original victim can escape bc, unlike the victim, he actually CAN defend himself if he needs to

in the game, it’s quickly brushed over but they mention breakfast meetings and after Toko says she’s never had breakfast with anyone before, Leon also joins in and says that it’s “been a while for him too”, so i like to think he USED to have breakfast with his family a lot as a kid, but then when tensions grew between him and his dad, he eventually stopped showing up altogether

the hair stylist he talks about in his FTE is actually an ultimate and a good friend of his and her name is Kaori, but they only really talked in the time Leon attended Hope’s Peak so he forgot her name by the time the KG rolled around

his hair is actually brown and surprisingly wavy, he just slathers it in hair gel to keep it upright

to add onto the above, Kazuo has blonde hair and green eyes while Leon has brown hair and blue eyes, which are both traits of his mother. the fact that he looks so much like her yet keeps changing his appearance is another thing that pisses his dad off, mans never coped with her death properly

this one may get a little long, but bear with me: when he and Kanon were kids, his dad was incredibly closed off emotionally, his uncle was VERY busy, and his aunt always felt like she was trying to be his mom and he didn’t really like that, i like to believe there wasn’t really anyone for he or Kanon to go to if there was a problem. so, in order to be the big brother figure he believed Kanon wanted him to be, he shoved his own emotions and problems way down and focused on helping her instead. since he was really the only person who ever cared for her or tried to support her, that’s why she got way too attached to him. he just didn’t realize how bad it was until they got older, and he feels bad about possibly cutting her off because there’s no one else for her to go to.

thanks to how he grew up, he is INCREDIBLY closed off and doesn’t like showing his emotions to anyone because helping people is HIS job, he can’t have people help him if they see him break, that’s not how it works

AND ANOTHER THING, since he often felt alone as a kid, he sought out attention from other people, so he thrived on the approval that baseball gave him. eventually, he kind of got addicted to that attention and would seek it out in any way he could. he quickly found out that bad attention often kept people talking about him more often than good attention did, so he built up a reputation as a player even though he was never really interested in girls to begin with

( speaking of, i do think he is homoromantic/pansexual, if that clears up any confusion there might’ve been rip )

he's also just, really good at masking how he feels?? like, i could look at his behavior in chapter 1 as just something to make the game run smoothly, but i wanna look at it like this: Leon is panicking, he's stressed because he committed a murder that he JUST found out he's going to have to try and get away with, and yet his behavior doesn't even change. he wears his usual mask, makes his usual comments, still has the balls to be kind of an ass to Toko, and all this while he's probably crumbling inside. he has had so long to cover his feelings, man-

also?? he will always introduce himself as “Leon Kuwata”, but when he’s alone and talks to himself out loud, he still refers to himself as Kazuo

despite being an extrovert, he's still incredibly anxious, and that extends to public outings!! because of this, he's developed a kind of code for his friends so they know what he needs since words don't always work. a tug to someone's sleeve means "i need a second to calm down", two tugs means "i'm uncomfortable" or "i don't like this conversation/what's happening", and three means "my social battery is out" or "i need to leave ASAP"

the clip on his jacket and all those rings + his necklace??? they're there for show, mans has ADHD he needs stuff to fidget with

sometimes his brain is on autopilot and his thoughts mix with that autopilot, which sucks when he has to sign autographs. there’s been times where he’s signed things as “Kazuo Kuwata” and just prayed no one mentioned it

he doesn't trust easily!! not because he doubts people's intentions, but because he can't be sure they won't try to 1) use his fame to propel themselves upwards or 2) help him with his problems, which circles back to an earlier point. he loves to be seen but god forbid anyone understand him

his wikipedia page? nearly empty. it has his feats and public information on it, but stuff like his birthday or his real name aren't correct. the part where it would mention his life story & background is completely blank. he's also edited his height to say 6'0" ( ~182 cm ), this is not true, his shoes just give him a little extra height

this one is just self indulgent but i like to think he’s drawn to Byakuya because he has his entire life planned out for him and has for a long time, meanwhile Leon has no idea what he wants to settle on for sure and is anxious/stressed but Byakuya never seems to be like that. he always seems cool and collected, and as Leon’s polar opposite, it’s only natural that he’s drawn to him

#if you made it through all that??? i love you GRGNTJBHNR #leon kuwata

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 4 years

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So Good to Me

Words: 9.3K

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, heavy drinking, drunkenness, mention of piss play (just banter, nothing actually happens), handjobs, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unmentioned but obvious praise kink, Binnie is a subby baby boy, blowjob, ass play and fingering (male receiving), oral and fingering (gender neutral receiving), no condom (condoms are boring in smut but, as always, Practice Safe Sex!).

A/N: hey, I’m back with another self-indulgent fic, surprise surprise! it’s my ult of ults birthday so imma do what I want, leave me alone! but uh yeah, here’s some subby baby boy Binnie to get you through your day ;) and the biggest ‘Happy Birthday’ to the boy that ultimately has my heart ❤❤❤❤❤ I love you to the moon and back, darling! oki, you can enjoy now hehe

My Koala 🐨💛: We're going out tonight

You: "Out" as in out to a club to drink and dance until the wee hours of the morning?

My Koala 🐨💛: What else would I mean??

My Koala 🐨💛: I can feel you rolling your eyes… what?

You: It's just...do you want to wake up with a hangover on your birthday?

My Koala 🐨💛: Eh, I'll be fine. We're all chilling tomorrow anyway, so I'll be close to aspirin and something to puke in at all times. It's a win-win!!

You: If you say so!

My Koala 🐨💛: I do say so.

My Koala 🐨💛: Why do you keep rolling your eyes at me?? 😤

You: Lol you have some kind of sixth sense or something?

My Koala 🐨💛: Yes one especially for eye-rolling

My Koala 🐨💛: Now be here at eight sharp, or we're leaving without youuuu

You: Leaving without me, my ass! Half of y'all won't even be ready by eight sharp! I'd bet money on it, but I'm not going to on the off chance I lose because I am not paying you on your birthday or the day before for that matter!

My Koala 🐨💛: Would you pay me if I gave you a lap dance?? 👀👀👀

You: WTF why am I even friends with you?! 😂😂😂

My Koala 🐨💛: Shut up you love me 😏

You: mhmm see you at 8

Cheeks burning at Changbin's blatant offer, you locked your phone and went to your closet to search for an outfit for the evening. The image in your head was far from innocent which somehow ended up influencing the articles of clothing you pulled out, a rather raunchy ensemble laid out on your bed only moments later.

Good grief, it's like I'm applying for a job as a stripper at the club! What has gotten into me?!

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you quickly shoved the offending materials onto the floor and restarted your search. After all, you were just going out with your friends to celebrate your best friend's birthday. No one was setting out to get laid or go home with anyone. Just good, clean (lol not) fun with friends! Nothing to worry about.

The outfit you ended up with was much more modest and less *cough* suggestive than what had originally laid out on your bed. You still felt and looked good, which, like the gentlemen they are, the boys were happy to shower you with compliments when you arrived at the dorm at 8 on the dot. Surprisingly, all but Felix and Jisung were ready to head out when you got there — something about Felix trying to perfect his makeup and Jisung not being able to find the particular pair of jeans he swore he just had to wear. He must have found them faster than expected because moments after you showed up, he ran out of his room screaming "Let's go! I wanna go get druuuuunk!" You shook your head and couldn't help but laugh when you noticed Chan's almost pained expression.

"Wait for me!" A quiet, sing-song floated from the bathroom before Felix strutted into the living room where everyone was gathered. He gasped and scurried over to you, making you twirl for him while he fawned over you, "You look amazing! I love your hair like that, it shows off your features so well!"

"Me?" You practically yelled, "Lixie, you look stunning! I should've had you do my makeup!" His cheeks rosied as you pouted slightly, a bashful smile curving his tinted lips.

"Next time! Besides, you don't need it one bit!" He booped your nose gently as he offered you the hidden compliment, and you scoffed before giggling sweetly.

"Oh, and you do?" You retaliated, adjusting a strand of his hair before softly tracing your fingertips over one of his cheekbones, marveling at his smooth skin and precious freckles, "I love when you let your constellations shine. You're so pretty, Lixie!" The small amount of blush Felix had applied to his cheeks only served to make his natural flush more evident. He shied away from your hand as you both giggled together.

"Alright, lovebirds!" Jisung shouted as he ushered Felix toward the door, "We've got a club to get to!"

"And a birthday to celebrate!" You added in, turning your attention to Changbin to jump on his back unexpectedly, "Hey there, birthday boy!" You softened your voice so as not to scream in his ear, and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek as he chuckled and gripped your legs to properly carry you. "Let's go!" You pumped your fist toward the door and cheers erupted from your little group as you set out for the night.

Starting off the night with multiple rounds of shots the moment you stepped foot into the club might not have been the best idea, but apparently some of the boys needed to loosen up before you all huddled together on the dance floor and jumped around enthusiastically to the pounding music that filled the stuffy room. Eventually, mini groups and duos broke off to dance separately and you soon found yourself moving to the beat with Felix's hands resting on your hips and your arms draped over his shoulders, giggling together under the strobe lights.

A few songs passed and you felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of your head. "I'm not sure if it's the lights or not but Bin is looking a little green…" Felix suddenly joked, laughing lightly. He noticed the concern wash over your face as you worried about your best friend getting sick so early on and swiftly quelled your fears, "Green with envy." He clarified. Your eyes widened comically at his statement and you couldn’t hide your surprise.

“Binnie's jealous? Of who?" He chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward to mumble in your ear.

"Why don't you go ask him yourself?" The wink he gave you when he pulled back was what really caught you off guard. Everyone knew that your close friendship with Felix was strictly platonic, or at least you thought everyone knew. On the other hand, your minor (read: major) crush on Changbin wasn't common knowledge, or at least you hoped it wasn't, but by the look in Felix's eyes, something told you that you hadn't kept your secret well enough concealed. Instead of completely giving yourself away, you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could and muttered something about getting another drink before heading off, directly towards Changbin, who just so happened to be on your way to the bar.

"Binnie! I'm gonna get another drink! Come with me!" The expression on his face was sour but it softened dramatically when you cutely tugged on his arm. He didn't have a chance to protest before you were yanking him along with you. Finding a space at the bar, Bin stood next to you as you hopped up on an empty stool and waved the bartender over. You ordered something strong but refreshing since the packed bodies caused the humidity inside the building to be sky-high, while Changbin got a refill on his own drink, "You didn't think I was going to spend the whole night dancing with Lix, did you?" You teased your best friend when you noticed he was a little more sulky than usual.

"You," he paused and switched his weight to the opposite foot. "You looked like you were having fun."

"We were! But I got thirsty!" You hummed in response, while reaching for your drink. Holding up your glass, the liquid swirled gently, ice cubes tinkling sharply. "Not to mention, I wanted to see what the birthday boy was up to. I was missing my best friend a little, too, if I'm being honest." Changbin glanced up from where he had been staring into his glass, cheeks tinged pink and a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Missing your best friend, huh?"

"Yeah, have you seen him around? I saw a guy that looked like him, but he was far too sulky to be my best friend." You teased once more, snickering into your cup when Changbin immediately pouted. His face fell minutely and you quickly set your glass down on the bartop to take one of his hands in yours, "Oh, honey! Are you really not having a good time? We can always go home and watch movies and stuff ourselves with junk food if you'd rather do that. I don't want the birthday boy to be miserable!" You paused as Bin stared at you wide-eyed, mouth parted like he wanted to say something; when he didn't speak, you reached up to brush a few strands of hair out of his eyes and continued, "I want my best friend to have the time of his life."

“As long as I'm with you, I'm happy." Changbin's eyes were noticeably glassy and his smile soft. Heart fluttering a bit more wildly in your chest, you squeezed his hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home, Binnie? Whatever you want." He shook his head and smiled wider.

"Wanna stay here with you."

"In that case…” Your eyes glinted mischievously as you stood from your seat, "Dance with me." Changbin let himself be easily pulled along back towards the dance floor. Obvious and visible to everyone but you, he stumbled behind you like a puppy following his owner.

You drew him in close when you reached the center of the dance floor, laying the hand you held on your hip and guiding his other hand to your opposite side. He instinctively tugged you tighter into himself and you giggled as he began to mindlessly move with the music. Throwing your head back, you let yourself go, not noticing how Changbin was completely spell-bound by you, enamored with your every movement and utterly transfixed on you as a whole. You didn't hear him when he whispered, "This is exactly where I want to be. Always."

Hours later, your little group staggered through the door of the dorms, drunk off your asses and laughing hysterically at literally everything. Well, Chan was, well, emotional, to say the least, but he had all his friends to support him and cheer him up. You helped Seungmin (who was surprisingly on the less inebriated side of wasted, unlike most everyone else including yourself, but you were managing just fine) care for and tuck Chan into his bed. Between the two of you, you remembered to leave a trash pail near his bed along with aspirin and a big glass of water on his bedside table for when he woke up with his pretty much guaranteed killer hangover the next day. When you kissed his forehead, Chan, teary-eyed and sniffly, mumbled his thanks, "It'll be okay, sweetie. Get some sleep." He nodded cutely and snuggled into his pillow and within seconds, he was out like a light.

On your way to the living room, you heard Hyunjin whining from his own bed about needing something to cuddle while he slept. You happened to quite literally run into Jeongin who, by the look on his face, knew exactly what you were about to suggest. As you opened your mouth to speak, he held up his hand to stop you, "Alright, I'll go sacrifice myself. But if he ends up smothering me or strangling me in his sleep, just know I love you all."

"You're so dramatic!" You chuckled at the youngest as he turned towards Hyunjin's room, "Death by cuddles, what a way to go! Good luck, kiddo, and thanks for volunteering." The subtle smile over his features gave away the fact that he wouldn't mind 'sacrificing himself' one bit. Before heading for the couch, you took a detour to the kitchen for a glass of water, where, contrary to all expectations when walking into a kitchen at some ridiculously early hour of the morning, you found a body on the kitchen counter.

"Really, Minho?" You mumbled as you maneuvered around his foot that was hanging off one side. What was he doing? How did he manage to get himself up there and then promptly fall asleep—so many questions. All left unanswered since he was safe enough and you were too tired and not sober enough to care. So into the living room you went. Having lost Seungmin after you put Chan to bed, you were surprised to find him with Changbin and Felix, all snuggled up in a cuddle pile amongst various strewn about pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the couch. Felix let out a tired squeal when he spotted you and Seungmin pouted and made grabby hands while Changbin lazily smiled at you, clearly not even a minute away from nodding off. You giggled at the youngest, "I'll be there in a minute, Minnie." Crawling over a variety of bumps that could have been limbs or just pillows, you made your way over to Bin before he managed to fall asleep.

"Hey there, darlin'.” You breathed. He responded with blinking, droopy eyes, a sluggish smile still present over his doll lips, "It's way after midnight but I haven't had a chance to tell you yet." Changbin hummed and reached a hand out to touch your arm gently as you bent over him to whisper against his forehead, "Happy Birthday, Binnie,” where you pressed a sweet kiss. Bin sighed contentedly, eyes slipping closed as he subconsciously leaned into your touch, "Goodnight, birthday boy." By the time you had pulled away, he was already fast asleep. A few strands of hair had fallen in his eyes so you gently brushed them off his face as you admired his features fondly. Pulling yourself from the trance Bin had seemingly put you under, you carefully turned from his sleeping body to find Seungmin and Felix giving you looks. "What?" You asked defensively, honestly having forgotten they were even there. Seungmin sighed and shook his head and Felix just grinned.

"You kissed him wrong." Your incredulous expression caused him to snicker quietly, "Shoulda kissed him on the lips." Jaw dropping to the floor, you lunged for him.

"You better shut your mouth! I'll give you a kiss!" You taunted, grabbing his face and placing a big, wet kiss right on his cheek. He groaned and squirmed through his giggles. You pulled away and squished his chubby cheeks, "Cute! You're lucky you're cute."

"I second that," Seungmin agreed before whining and making grabby hands again. The three of you all cuddled around Bin, limbs thrown every which way despite being comfortable all close together, and let sleep overtake you. Seconds before you drifted into dreamland, you suddenly wondered where Jisung had gone off to. Apparently having wondered aloud, Felix grumbled a reply.

"Probably fell asleep in the bathtub or something. He's fine." You just chuckled fondly and shut your mind off, body quickly following.

Sunlight pouring in through the living room window eventually roused you from sleep, incessant pain immediately present behind your eyes as soon as you opened them, or, rather, struggled to pry them open. Faint groaning radiated from the blankets surrounding you and you honestly weren't sure if the sound was coming from you or from one of your sleeping companions, "Ugh, what time is it?" Seungmin mumbled before promptly being hit with something that sounded suspiciously like a medication bottle.

"Time for you to shut up and take some aspirin.” Came Minho's heavily annoyed voice from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. You couldn't help but laugh, which hurt but that's beside the point, at him and the image of him sprawled out on the kitchen counter that you surprisingly vividly remembered from the night before.

"Sleep well, Min? I've heard kitchen counters don't really make the best beds, what do you think?" You teased, immediately shielding yourself just in case he decided to chuck something at you, too. He just grunted and grumbled under his breath, slinking out of the living room and away from the noise now that you and your little cuddle club were awake.

“Did he actually sleep on the countertop?" Seungmin asked, bewildered but chuckling quietly to himself and you shrugged.

"I don't know how long he stayed there, but he was out cold when I went to get a drink before I came in here last night." Felix erupted into a fit of giggles. You found yourself laying on his chest so his deep voice startled you slightly with its closeness.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Seungmin had presumably taken the aspirin Minho so delicately provided him with and he resumed his previous position and snuggled up to your back, sighing comfortably. Your legs were entangled with Changbin's and you took a moment to notice how quiet he had been.

"Kinda quiet over there, bean. You in a lot of pain?" You nudged one of his legs with yours and Changbin let out a barely audible complaint, but by the look in his eye, you could tell he was already feeling a little left out so you untangled yourself from your companions, provoking whines and multiple protests, and crawled over to your best friend. Wrapping your arms around his torso and nuzzling into his chest, you squeezed him close and threw a leg over his, "Better?" Changbin sounded more than satisfied when he sighed and mumbled into your hair.

"Much." You giggled fondly under his weight as he pulled you in even tighter.

"Clingy baby." Felix and Seungmin whispered to each other for a few seconds before launching themselves over yours and Changbin's bodies, all four of you laughing and groaning interchangeably.

"Too loud!"

"I need pain relief!"

"I'm starving my ass off!"

"I'm making pancakes! Come help me!" Chan's voice floated in from the kitchen and you all dragged yourself towards the prospective food. Much to your amazement, Jisung was sitting on one of the chairs at the table so you took the opportunity to tackle him in a back hug.

"Hey, bud. We kinda lost track of you last night. Where'd you end up sleeping?" He laughed warmly and hugged your arms tighter to his chest.

"I'm pretty sure I fell asleep in the bathroom at first. I remember waking up in there at some point and then heading towards my room, but I must've passed out again before I got there because Chan found me slumped against a wall in the hallway when he came out to make breakfast." You, along with everyone else in the room, burst out laughing.

"Only you, Sungie. Only you," You teased him, gently rocking the two of you side to side. Jisung's cheeks reddened slightly but he just nodded and laughed along with you. Most everyone had varying degrees of hangovers but the group passed around the aspirin like the shots had been passed around the night before. Making breakfast was… to put it lightly, chaotic, but you all managed to formulate something edible and actually pretty decent. Breakfast in hand, your small group huddled around the TV to start the movie marathon that Bin had requested for his birthday.

You made it through two entire movies before some of the guys got antsy so video gaming was the next option to occupy the time. Vacillating between movies, board games, video games, and the occasional whining and competitive fighting, the day passed by rather quickly and soon, dinner time had come around. The birthday boy requested pizza, and a lot of it, so Chan ordered in and the meal arrived partway through another movie. Making it through the rest of that movie and another one, complaints of stuffed tummies and squawks of drink refill requests echoed throughout the living room, with bodies strewn about every which way and the infrequent snack wrapper or empty cup thrown at someone's head. Changbin was choosing the last movie of the night so Chan got everyone's attention, "Now's the time for bathroom breaks, drink refills and snack hoarding!"

"And if your name isn't Changbin, we aren't waiting for you before we play it!" Minho shouted at the scattering boys. You threw a mostly empty water bottle at the back of his skull.

“Don't be an ass, Min!" He just scowled at you as he rubbed the back of his head, prompting you to childishly stick your tongue out at him, "Your death glare doesn't work on me like it does on Hyunjin."

"Oh god!" Hyunjin shouted as he hesitantly trudged back into the room from grabbing a snack, “I heard my name. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry!" Minho gave him a conniving sneer, which only served to frighten him more.

“No, you're fine," You reassured the younger before turning to the evil one, kicking towards him as best you could with a chair and a body or two separating you from him, "Stop scaring him, he already looks like he's going to piss himself out of fear!"

“Maybe I want him to…" Minho muttered under his breath. You gaped at him while Chan flailed and rapidly shook his head.

"No! No discussion of kinks in the living room!" Chuckles and giggles filled the room and Changbin feigned annoyance through his laugh, “I'm leaving before this gets any weirder." You watched him, slightly concerned that maybe he was finished for the night and heading off to his room but he noticed your gaze and mouthed "bathroom" to assuage your worries. Some of the others must have caught on because Jisung snorted.

"What, you aren't gonna follow him to the bathroom? Have a little fun?" Internally, you were flabbergasted, but on the outside, you were cool as a cucumber.

"Nah, I think I'll leave the piss play to Minho and Hyunjin, but thanks for the offer. I'm sure you'd love to join them though, huh Sungie? Have a little fun, hmm?" You taunted right back, the boys hooting and hollering around you at Jisung being given a taste of his own medicine, the young man's cheeks reddened deeply in embarrassment. Chan was exasperated. Disgruntled. Livid. Whatever you choose to call it, Chan was peeved and he just sat with his head in his hands for a moment. When he raised his head, however, you could tell he wasn't actually as angry as he led on, perhaps significantly amused despite his facade of heavy irritation.

"I said, no kink discussion in the living room…” He struggled to get through the sentence without laughing and by then Changbin had returned, having missed the entire ordeal.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, shuffling in.

“Immaturity." You stated quickly before anyone else could get a word in to explain. Bin shrugged and lumbered over to you, instantly dropping into your lap and koala-ing around you.

He spoke lowly in your ear, "My head still hurts but I'd rather stay here with everyone instead of going off on my own for the rest of the night. Is it ok if I just rest my eyes for a little bit, please?"

"Of course, Binnie! You know I never say no to your cuddles! You stay here as long as you like, sweetie." You smiled warmly as you glanced down at him and he hummed contentedly and snuggled into your shoulder.

"Thank you." You felt Bin shiver against you slightly and asked if Jeongin could toss you a blanket from the pile next to him. He obliged and you draped the soft fabric over both your bodies and nuzzled into your koala as Minho pressed play on the movie. The pattern of Bin's breathing changed faster than you expected but you held him close while you watched the movie. After a while, he started to whimper and squirm in your lap. To try to soothe him back to sleep, you threaded your fingers through his soft strands while your other hand traced designs on his back over his t-shirt but he continued to fidget and murmur. The possibility that he was just uncomfortable and still in pain crossed your mind so you asked him quietly.

"Do you need more pain medication? Or maybe some water or an ice pack or something, baby?" As soon as the word "baby" left your mouth, Changbin whined in your ear and desperately rolled his hips, his hard-on suddenly very evident against your thigh, “Oh, baby's needy." You thought you were quiet enough so that just Bin heard you, but you heard a muffled gasp from the other end of the couch. In the corner of the room away from prying eyes, you thought you and Changbin had a little privacy but apparently your couch companions, Felix and Jisung, could hear you clearly if you talked in anything above a whisper. Thankfully, no one else could hear you for the movie. Bin kept fussing and wiggling around so, opting to ignore the sharp inhale, you continued to speak so that just Felix and Jisung could hear you but pretended to not know they could, "Alright, baby. Use my thigh."

Changbin resituated himself and started to rut, breathy moans and sighs spilled from his lips directly into your ear. Moments later, Bin began to gently kiss at your neck and ear before whining, "Need more. Please. ’s not enough."

You hummed, pleased with his small show of affection and prompted him to ask properly, "What does baby need?"

"Touch me, please, I need it, please touch me…” He slurred, gripping onto the front of your shirt.

"Hmm, where?" You wanted to make him say it, wanted to hear how it would sound coming out of his mouth, how he would sound begging for it.

"My cock. Please touch my cock. Hurts." Changbin mewled. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix clamp a hand over Jisung's mouth, muffling the moan he let out at the words Bin had said. Covered by the blanket, you took your time reaching down to where Bin wanted you to touch.

"You're such a good boy for me, begging without being told to. And so obedient, too." Bin was sniveling discreetly, unable to sit still while he waited to be touched, but the second your hand dipped into his sweatpants and wrapped around his stiff, leaking cock, all efforts at being quiet went out the window. He let out a sinfully deep moan, music to your ears, but relievedly, it seemed to be only audible to those of you that were seated on the couch, since none of the other boys seemed to notice at all nor paid you any attention, "Now baby has to be quiet, unless baby wants everyone to hear what we're doing." Bin's grip on your shirt immediately tightened, mewling softly and he reached down with his other hand to grasp your forearm as you slowly worked his cock. You took that particular moment to finally glance over at Felix and Jisung, who both looked bug-eyed and beet red when you made eye contact.

View obstructed by Changbin and the blanket draped over the two boys' laps, you couldn't see anything but you had a hunch that those facial expressions were because they thought they had just been caught with their hands down each other's pants, mixed with a little guilt from watching and listening to you and Changbin. You winked at the two of them and shot them a sly smirk as you bent your neck a little further to kiss at Bin's ear and asked the whimpering boy, "Feel good, baby?" Changbin whined and nodded in response, rutting harder into the hand that was fisting his cock. Maintaining eye contact with the two boys at the other end of the couch, you questioned Bin again, "Are you close?" Jisung nodded in answer to the question that wasn't even directed at him and you successfully resisted the urge to laugh or even smile.

Bin nodded vigorously against your shoulder and whimpered into your neck, "Yes, yes, I'm so close… Please, I need it, please, let me cum, I need to cum, please."

"Such a good boy for me!" You praised Changbin lovingly, and watched as Felix's brows drew together in pleasure and he dropped his head back against the couch, huffing out an almost silent groan, "Cum for me, baby." The noise Jisung let out when he came was somewhat odd and jarring, but no one paid him any mind considering random, bizarre noises weren't anything out of the ordinary. Felix managed to stifle his own groan with his free hand when he released. Bin, however, shuddered in your arms, silently biting his lip as waves of pleasure washed over him and he came hard, covering your hand in white and dirtying his briefs. You worked him through it, squeezing the head of his cock to milk out the last few drops as he twitched in oversensitivity. Once he had come down from his high, Changbin whispered a sweet "thank you" in your ear before placing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss on your jawline and immediately passed out from exhaustion. How you got three boys to successfully cum on command, you have no idea but, needless to say, it was a major confidence boost. You glanced back over at Jisung and Felix, who both looked nervous again, and chuckled under your breath, "We never have to speak of this if you get me something to clean my hand." Jisung nodded, dumbfounded, and got up too quickly – his feet became tangled in the blanket and down he went, ending up partially sprawled out over Jeongin's outstretched leg and the floor. Thankfully, both he and Felix had the forethought to tuck themselves back in before Jisung got up.

He sprang to his feet before Jeongin even had a chance to complain and whisper-shouted, "My nose is running," as a cover-up. When Jisung returned seconds later with a giant handful of tissues, Jeongin mumbled something about drowning in his own snot, but the older ignored him and made a show of wiping at his nose before discreetly passing the rest on to you and Felix. Credits eventually started to roll on the screen and some of the boys were stretching and yawning by then. You took the opportunity to gently rouse Bin, checking to see if he was feeling better and wanted to watch another movie or if he was headed off to bed for the night. He shuffled out of your lap and, in his baby voice, he giggled, "’m sticky." Changbin then took the blanket that had been draped over the two of you and wrapped it around himself like a cape.

The majority of the boys gave him funny looks at his comment but you laughed and provided an explanation, "You're like a furnace when you sleep and we had a blanket on so yeah, it's a little clammy to say the least." You received shrugs and nods in response, along with a few members echoing how warm Changbin gets when he sleeps.

Said boy's cheeks tinged pink and he chuckled softly, "Well, I might go sleep off the rest of this hangover even though it's still early. You guys can keep watching movies if you want, I don't mind." As you and the boys bid him goodnight and wished him a happy birthday again, he gave everyone a warm smile and waddled off to his room.

You silently hoped the rest of the boys would head to bed, too, since your bed was the couch and you really wanted to get off, wound up from the whimpering boy in your lap only moments before. Much to your dismay, the boys started to argue about what movie to watch next but Felix seemed to sense your restlessness and elbowed you. Turning to face him and Jisung, you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks when images from before popped into your head. They looked like they felt similarly and almost like he read your mind, Jisung asked, "I got you tissues so we don't have to talk about this, right?"

You snorted, "Then why are you bringing it up?" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged, trying to come up with an excuse but he just stuttered out random syllables. Felix giggled and you opened your mouth to poke fun at him but he held up a hand to silence you.

"Now's not a good time to bring up the fact that I have a 'good boy' kink, so don't say anything!"

Chan apparently suddenly acquired superhuman hearing, having jolted upright from lounging on the floor and pointed an accusatory finger at the three of you, "Hey, I said earlier, no kink discussion in the living room!" You, Felix, and Jisung all looked at each other before busting out laughing, figuring Chan had been completely unaware of all that had just gone down during the previous movie.

"Ah, blissful ignorance!" you quipped, nudging Felix in the side as you continued to laugh and Chan continued to give you the stink eye from across the room.

"Don't think I don't know what you all are up to!" The oldest chided, "I'm surprised you haven't run off to Changbin yet, considering what you two got up to during the movie." You blanched. Felix stiffened beside you when Chan continued, "And you two. Well, we're all kinda used to you by now but -"

"Get a room!" Minho shouted at the ceiling, body draped over a chair in what looked like a very uncomfortable position (but so is sleeping on the kitchen countertop, so to each their own).

You risked another glance at your couch companions but Lix just smirked and said, “I'm rooming with him tonight." He shrugged his shoulder in the direction of Jisung, "My bed's free, not that you'll need it. Have fun!" He winked and grabbed Jisung by the wrist to drag him off to the older's bedroom.

“Don't keep Hyunjin up all night!" You teased as they began to walk off. Hyunjin, sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, scoffed.

"I'm sleeping out here since now you're not."

"Don't let him fool you, he usually keeps us up all night!" Felix taunted back and Hyunjin just looked scandalized.

"Welp…” You tried and failed to act casual as you stood from the couch. "I'm uhh…"

Minho sighed overdramatically. "Don't worry, we're gonna blast this movie and then next one. For our own sake.” He added.

Standing in front of Changbin's bedroom door, you debated with yourself for several moments whether or not to knock first or to just slip in quietly. You ended up just walking in, figuring it was safe considering what had just transpired on the couch earlier. Bin was lounging on his bed, lying slightly on his side facing away from the door, attention focused on his phone. He most likely figured it was his roommate, Felix, walking in so he didn't make an attempt to look up. You moved to close the door, leaning your back gently against it until you heard the soft click.

"Hey," your voice was weak but strong enough to break the silence, somewhat startling to Bin, if his tiny jump was anything to go by. His head snapped over to look at you, eyes wide and uncertain, and mindlessly dropped the phone on the bed next to him. You offered him an easy smile to reassure him you weren't upset and he swung his legs over to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Umm, hi..." Changbin hesitated. He twiddled his thumbs, glancing around the room as he tried to explain himself, "I'm uhh… I'm sorry. About earlier. I tend to just… drop." He shrugged, "It doesn't happen very often. Not really sure why it happens now that I think about it… but yeah, sorry." You smiled warmly as you watched his blush deepen from a barely there pink to a sweet cherry red. Bin continued to avoid your gaze as you inched closer to him.

"Why are you apologizing, baby?" He visibly gulped as you kneeled on the bed between his thick thighs and nudged his cock gently, smirking at his nervousness, "I was going to punish you for cumming in your pants like a teenage boy…" you started and Changbin finally looked up, a little dazed. "But you were so good for me." You glanced at the clock on his bedside table, "It's not midnight yet. Do you still want your gift?" Bin nodded enthusiastically, which urged your smirk to widen and the powerful feeling in your chest bloomed bigger.

Lifting his chin up with one finger, you leaned in close, close enough for him to feel your breath dancing over his lips but not close enough to taste. "Let's see…" you paused, pulling away to trail your finger down to the center of his chest and push him back on the bed. "How many times…" you continued, immediately shoving his hoodie up and dragging your nails down his toned stomach before your fingertips dipped under the waistband of his sweatpants, your palm resting directly over his cock. "… I can make you cum before the clock strikes 12:01, shall we?" Changbin was propped up on one arm, lust-blown pupils closely following your every move as you tugged his sweatpants down just a few inches to expose the band of his briefs before stopping to make eye contact, "Answer me, baby. I need to know if you want this."

"Please…" He whispered, eyes imploring and desperate, hands already gripping tightly at the sheets on either side of him. You smiled minutely as he lifted his hips for you to drag his pants off completely. Bin instinctively spread his legs wider and relaxed them, his knees falling out to the sides when you crouched down. You took the opportunity to shove his right thigh up, tightly gripping a handful of flesh and squeezing, mesmerized, and tried to keep yourself from drooling over him.

"So pretty…" You breathed, not quite a whisper, but strained with desire. Your eyes followed the fingertips of your free hand as you traced the lines over his stomach before moving to gently squeeze at his side, thumb rubbing tender circles into his hip bone. Left hand unhurriedly trailing up his opposite side, you reached up to his chest to barely brush your fingertips over one his nipples but Bin reacted with a jolt, arching off the bed and he bit his lip to muffle a moan, "So sensitive.” You smirked to yourself, tweaking his nipple so that he let his voice out, whimpering sweetly, "That's it, let me hear you, baby."

Countless daydreams and nights spent longing for him and there he was with your hands on him, his eyes teary and begging for you, his body so responsive, and you couldn't help but feel that maybe you were just dreaming all over again, but Changbin whined softly and canted his hips, snapping you out of your reverie, and you met his eyes again. "Please…" He repeated his earlier plea as he wiggled around, trying to get you to touch him more.

"God." You practically whined yourself, "You're so fucking cute." You leaned over him and his eyes locked on your lips despite the evident embarrassment written all over his face, cheeks ruddy and tears threatening to spill, "So perfect." He made a noise that suspiciously sounded like he didn't agree but you felt his rough hand graze the skin of your cheek and you couldn't hold yourself back anymore. Lips met lips and Changbin melted into you immediately, fingers tangled in your hair, a floaty feeling overtook your senses. His kiss mirrored his clear and apparent feelings – desperation, hunger, need, and everything in between. You could feel yourself losing all sense of reality; your lips moving against his plush, doll-like ones, his fingers tugging at strands of your hair, his gasp when you nibbled at his lower lip, everything was hallucinatory. But you still wanted to tease him a bit more.

"Please…” Bin whispered again against your lips, "I need you." He emphasized his imploration by grinding his hard length against your thigh and clutched at your shirt frantically. You kissed him hard before trailing your lips over his jawline and down his neck, sucking in random places, just hard enough to not leave visible marks.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here." Tugging at his hoodie, you signaled that you wanted to take it off so he leaned up to allow you to. Immediately, you continued your path of kisses over his collarbone and down his chest, stopping to lick and suck at each of his hardened nipples. Changbin arched into your mouth, a loud moan escaped his lips when your teeth scraped just so and he automatically clamped a hand over his mouth in shock, "Nuh uh, I want to hear you," you delicately dragged his hand away, fingers intertwining with his as you kissed further down his torso.

"But the others?" He panicked slightly, "They'll – Oh!" Bin jolted when you faintly nipped at the flesh of his hip and palmed his cock over his briefs.

You hushed him softly, "Shh, they're busy. Besides, I know it turns you on more to know they could hear you." He just huffed in response, not denying your accusation. Curling your fingertips under his waistband, you pulled his briefs down ever so slowly, loving how he whined at your pace. His dick sprang free from its confines and bounced back against his abdomen, right below his navel. Tossing his underwear off to the side somewhere, you traced your fingertips up his thighs to his hips, one hand resting there and while the other inched closer to where Changbin needed most. Poor baby was so impatient – you slapped his thigh when he whined about not touching him fast enough, which caused him to thrust into nothing and groan in pleasure, "Ah, a bit of a pain slut, aren't you, baby?"

"Nngh, yes..." He moaned when you slapped his other thigh. Changbin shuddered when your hand finally came into contact with his leaking cock. You wrapped your hand around him and squeezed gently – your thumb dug into his slit before you lifted it to show the strand of pre-cum connecting it to his cock, "You're so wet! Look at this, you're already making such a mess!" Again, he whimpered in response. Smearing the pre-cum over his skin, you began to pump his cock, gradually picking up speed. "Do you want to cum from my hand or my mouth?"

You were being generous in giving him the choice and he thanked you knowingly, "Whatever you want, I'm grateful for. Thank you."

"Good boy." Changbin keened, arching into the touch when you suddenly mouthed at his shaft. Tonguing at his slit, you moaned at his taste and took him into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head to take more and more of him. Soon, your nose became buried in the soft curls at the base of his shaft, tongue diligently running over the bulging veins. Bin squirmed and fisted the sheets before reaching to thread his fingers through your hair.

“Fuck, your mouth! I-" A strangled moan abruptly cut off his words when you swallowed around him and his fingers tightened their grip in your strands. His tug at your hair was harsh, causing you to moan at the slight amount of pain. The vibrations from your throat only served to produce more overwhelming pleasure for Changbin and he writhed underneath you. You pulled away to lap at his balls, sucking each one into your mouth. He watched you like a hawk, dark eyes focused on you as you moved to kiss and suck at his perineum, whining all the while. One of his thighs in each of your hands, you pushed his legs up until you had better access to his pretty little hole. Licking a stripe over it, you smiled into Changbin's skin as he once again jolted and arched off the bed, "Jesus fuck! Oh my god!"

Moans began to pour from his lips as you licked, sucked, and nibbled at his rim. Bin threw his head back against the bed, panting heavily and breathed out your name, "Feels so fucking good!" When you started to fuck him with your tongue, he squirmed around so much, you had to hold him down, “Can't. I – Fuck!" The next time Changbin made eye contact, you could see that his tears had finally spilled over, leaving streaks down his plump cheeks. He was already lost in the pleasure, a daze clouding his eyes, but you weren't finished with him yet.

"I wanna pamper you. Where's your lube, baby?"

He licked his lips and tried to calm down, "Top drawer, way in the back." Despite knowing you had to get up to fetch the lube, Changbin still whined loudly at the loss of touch.

"Patience, baby. I'm gonna make you feel even better." His eyes widened and he fidgeted on the bed, still clutching his legs to his chest, bent in half with his hole on full display. You returned with the lube seconds later but stopped to stare at him, "I can't get over how perfect you are.” You praised, maneuvering the two of you so that you could comfortably kneel on the bed in front of him.

Once again holding his legs up, Changbin whined for you, "Please." You smiled sweetly at him and warmed the lube between your fingers before lightly outlining his rim with a single wet fingertip. He shuddered beneath you and let out another breathy whimper as you lightly pressed against his hole with two fingers, but not enough to breach the ring of muscles. Deciding to stick to a single digit to be safe, you gently pushed your middle finger in his hole up to the first knuckle and Bin clenched, surprised at the sudden intrusion, "Oh! That feels funny."

"I know, baby. Now relax for me.” You paused to rub soothing circles into his thigh, "I told you I would make you feel even better. I promise. Trust me?" When he nodded eagerly, you smiled again, "That's a good boy." He preened at your words, distracted by them, so you took the opportunity to push your finger in further. It went in easily and you began to wiggle it around to loosen him up. Not long after, Changbin started to moan, quickly finding pleasure again, "You want another?"

Bin hummed and you delicately inserted your pointer finger in alongside your middle finger. His mouth dropped open into an 'O' shape and he groaned deep in his chest when you started to pump your fingers in and out of him. Finding a little resistance, you reached up to work his cock to distract him a little more, "You're taking it so well!" You adored seeing his reaction whenever you praised him so you did it often. Scissoring your fingers, you moved around inside of him until you found that perfect spot.

“Nngh, fuck!" Changbin wailed and threw his head back again, his back bowed and his toes curled. You continued to rub tiny circles into his prostate as curses and swears spilled from his lips, "Oh god, fuck yes, fuck, that feels so fucking good!" By that point he was full on sobbing, blubbering and slurring his words, tossing his head back and forth, his nails dug crescents into the skin of his thighs.

“Are you gonna cum for me now, baby, hmm?" you asked, overly sweet, as you pumped his cock, stopping every once in a while to squeeze at the angry red head, – beads of pre-cum dribbled down the side and made the slide easier – and you continued to massage his prostate at the same time. Changbin nodded shamelessly, all care and worry thrown out the window. He just wanted to cum. Bad. And he begged for it. Even without being told to, he pleaded with you, vehement and ardent in his entreaty.

"Please, please, please let me cum. I need it so bad. I'll do anything, please just let me cum. Please, I need you to make me cum." That last part made something in you snap. You practically growled, lunging forward to kiss him fiercely. Sucking on his tongue made him moan into your mouth and you licked at his velvety walls, eager for him to taste himself while you worked him up to and over the edge.

"You're so good for me, such a good boy." You whispered against his plush lips, "Go ahead, baby. You can cum for me." Changbin cried out against your mouth, hips violently thrusting his cock into your hand and rocking down on your fingers at the same time. Ribbons of white splayed across his stomach and he desperately tried to catch his breath as he came down from his high. He whimpered into your mouth and kissed you sweetly, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones as you pulled back to look at him, "Baby looks so tired.” You lamented, withdrawing your fingers from his body before wiping them on part of the sheets next to you. Changbin hummed, a small smile on his lips as he nodded. His eyes quickly snapped open when you started to tug at his spent cock. A noise of protest escaped his lips but you continued to work his sore length. "C'mon, you've got one more for me, don't you, baby?" Your tone was melodic but mischievous and there was a sly twinkle in your eye when you crawled off the bed to finally strip for Bin, having stayed completely clothed the entire time you got him off. It was your turn now and you so badly wanted to sit on his thick cock.

He watched you unhurriedly remove each article of clothing, dick unsurprisingly chubbing up when you turned around and bent over at the waist, spreading your ass cheeks and putting yourself on full display as he had been earlier. You released your grip on the flesh, letting it clap back together and wiggled your hips, provoking a deep, sinful sounding moan from Changbin, "Come back..." He begged, "I wanna taste you." You smirked and straightened up, languidly moving towards him once you turned around to face him. He laid back on the bed and reached for you, silently asking for you to sit on his face. The thought made your insides throb with want, heat flowing through your veins, heart pounding and head light and floaty. You crawled over him and hovered above him before he yanked you down by the hips, immediately licking and sucking at your entrance with vigor. Changbin groaned and the vibration made you rock on his tongue, shivering as he shoved it deep inside you.

“Baby's so good to me…” You breathed, rolling your hips minutely, “Fuck, I love your tongue in me." Bin moaned again and you maintained a rhythm of rolling and rocking against his tongue. He soon reached up to insert a finger alongside his tongue, stretching you open for his thick cock while he ate you out like his life depended on it. You could feel yourself getting close so you forcefully removed his hand from your hip and sat up on your knees, shoving his other hand away in the process. He whined in objection and tried to pull you back down but you shook your head and moved off him completely, "No, baby. Wanna cum on your cock."

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath and canted his hips up into nothing. You moved to swing your leg over his stomach and reached for the lube that you had tossed somewhere on the bed earlier. Generously covering Bin's cock, you positioned yourself, and gripping his shaft, you guided it to your entrance and sank down until he was entirely buried inside you. You threw your head back and let out a wanton moan as Changbin dug his blunt nails into the skin of your thighs and tried to keep himself from moving too quickly. "You're so big, baby. Feel so full…" You mewled, circling your hips to feel his every bump and ridge against your walls.

He let out a choked sound and slid his hands up to your hips, "Please, can I move?"

"Yes, yes…” You chanted as you began to bounce yourself on his length. He met your hips with his thrusts, letting you do most of the work at first.

"You feel incredible. So tight, so wet, so fucking hot," Changbin babbled, drunk off the pleasure. You planted your palms on his chest, pinching at his nipples, and you felt his hips kick in response, momentarily disrupting the rhythm he had built up.

"I thought your tongue was good, fuck! Love your cock in me so much. Love it even more. So good to me, baby." You repeatedly cursed under your breath when Changbin quickened his pace and his harsh thrusts knocked you forward into him. He instantly took the opportunity to draw you into another kiss. It was more two open mouths breathing each other's air and tongues occasionally rubbing together than an actual kiss but you both were too caught up in the ecstasy to care.

He pulled away to breathe into your neck, whimpering against your skin as he gripped your hips tightly and pounded into you relentlessly. "Love you. I love you so fucking much. Wanted you for so long. Don't know what I'd do without you. I don't even want to think about it. I just really fucking love you." You felt tears prick at your eyes and you took his face in your hands as he slowed his thrusts and locked eyes with you.

"Then don't think about it." You stated simply, "I'm here. Always have been. Always will be. And I really fucking love you, too." Changbin didn't have a chance to smile or say anything before you kissed him, trying to convey your every emotion through your kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and held you as close to him as he possibly could, "I love you, my good boy, my baby." You whispered against his lips in between kisses and biting gently at his lips. He groaned and sped up his thrusts as he kissed you senseless.

"Fuck, I'm so close!" He moaned as his pace started to waver.

"I knew you had one more for me. Cum inside me baby, please." You found yourself begging him in the end.

Changbin grunted and reached between you to get you off faster, "You said you wanted to cum on my cock. Want you to cum first." You could see white begin to prick at the edges of your vision and your head felt even more floaty than before. Frankly, Changbin's cock felt like heaven inside you and you could feel your walls dragging him back in every time he pulled out. He adjusted his angle ever so slightly and with a few more thrusts, you came. Hard. Stars exploded behind your eyes and tingles ran up and down your body. When you opened your eyes, Changbin was there kissing you and working you through your high, "Thank you.” You breathed and he smiled warmly and hummed, "Keep going. Want you to cum.” You pleaded, clenching around him snugly. He chanted your name against your lips, throwing in some curses and an 'I love you' or two, using your body for his pleasure as he chased his own high. Seconds later, when you clenched around him again, Changbin cried out and released inside you, thick white ropes coating your walls. He fucked his cum into you with a few quick thrusts before pulling out and wrapping his arms back around you. Bin laid still, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he tried to catch his breath. You watched him from where your head was laid on his shoulder. Pressing a small kiss to his jawline, you saw the corner of his lips start to curl before he chuckled lowly, "Happy birthday, Binnie," you congratulated, barely above a whisper.

Changbin laughed harder, "God, I love you!"

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