#well anyway. enough of that. I’ve allowed myself a nice long cry today and got most of it out of my system | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

jean kirstein | primrose

i love him so much

y’all can’t see it but i am crying

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL HIMBO

note: this is unedited

warnings/notes: artist!jean, college au!, gardener!reader, cursing, jean’s in love, nsfw, smut, praise, fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, flower language.

jean wouldn’t say he was popular by any means.

everyone knew of him, but it’s not like they actively tried to befriend him or get to know him. he only really talked to the people in his friend group, and even then it was quite spread out. meaning, there were friend groups inside the friend group. jean doesn’t necessarily understand, but he’ll take what he can get.

jean mostly stayed alone on campus, none of his friends were artists. sasha was in a florist course—or something, jean never hears her speak about it—marco was majoring in nursing along with psychology, and connie was... well... connie? jean knew that connie had classes, but he didn’t even know what they were along with his major.

this meant that jean had no friends in his art classes. he wasn’t upset about it though, he always preferred to keep in his bubble. it only really got annoying whenever the professors would give them group projects.

jean’s sighing while he checks his phone, a text message from sasha that says she’s at the campus’s greenhouse finishing up an assignment. jean and sasha usually hang out until three together, waiting for connie and marco to get out of their own classes.

he grunts as he sets off to the greenhouse, not looking forward to the humidity that awaits him outside of the building. the professor made them work in the sprinkling rain?

jean pulls out an umbrella whenever he gets outside. shivering at the almost dramatic temperature drop whenever he steps outside. he trudges through the soggy grass, ignoring the squelching of his shoes and the water.

“where are you,” he asks whenever he steps inside of the greenhouse, closing his umbrella and inhaling the different smells.

the greenhouse is empty besides one person, sitting on their knees as they fill a hole with soil gently.

“huh? did you need something,” you ask as you pull your gaze away from the plant, eyebrows furrowed.

jean feels his face flush, “oh! i’m sorry... my friend said she was here but you’re the only one who’s here.”

you blink and stare, which makes jean sweat. you light up with realization, “you’re talking about sasha right? if so, she’s here still, just needed to use the bathroom in the next building over.”

he utters a thanks while you get back to your work, awkwardly loitering by the door as a way to wait for his friend.

“wh-what’s your name,” he stutters to you, cringing at how his voice echoes against the glass of the building.

“i’m (name) (last name). you?”

“j..jean kirstein. nice to meet you,” he nods with a gulp.

“not to be offensive, and even if i say that, it might be, but you don’t exactly look like a horticultural major. what are you majoring in,” you’ve not looked up from the plant you’re caring for.

“i’m an art major,” he spits out.

you pause your movements and look up to the window for a moment, relaxed smile on your face.

“funny,” you shrug and go back to your task, “i don’t think i’ve ever painted before.”

he relaxes his tense shoulders, shock written all over his pretty face, “you’ve never painted?!”

“nope.”

“what about when you were a kid?”

“no, my parents didn’t approve of messes along with anything that wasn’t proven to meet their standards,” your bottom lip juts out from concentration.

“i see,” he hums, but he really doesn’t. his mother’s always been so supportive of him and whatever he’s chose to do with his life, and still he treated her horribly when he was younger.

“what’s this project even about,” he asks, walking closer to observe your craft.

“sasha and i have to try and grow strawberries on their own... it may not seem too difficult, but strawberries are an absolute pain to maintain care for,” you sigh with disappointment, “but i’m not working on that for right now, i’m just planting for now.”

“what are you planting?” jean’s sure that you’re becoming annoyed with him and all of the questions he’s asking.

you smile a bit, “lilac.”

jean can’t see exactly how that makes you happy or flustered, but considering you’re the expert and he isn’t, he’s not gonna ask. he goes to open his mouth once more, but the greenhouse door creaking open interrupts him.

“sorry jean! there was this long line in the girl’s bathroom,” sasha blurts as she shuffles into the room and shakes the rain off of her shoes.

“it’s fine, don’t worry,” he holds up a hand snd shakes his head.

“oh! (name), you’re still here,” she asks whenever she steps closer.

“yea, just felt like gardening,” you place the pot down gently and look up to her from your place on the floor.

“what’re you plantin’?”

“lilac,” jean answers for her and is once again struck by confusion whenever sasha’s cheeks light up as a smile stretches across her face.

he looks back to you to find you glaring at sasha with a secret knowledge.

“what? what’s so weird about it,” he asks, looking between you two.

“nothing nothing, jeanie boy! c’mon, i want a burger,” she giggles as she waves her hand up and down, turning around to go out of the door.

“didn’t niccolo feed you earlier,” he scoffs, following behind.

“yeah! he made me lobster. anyways, bye (name)!” she grins as she opens the door after taking jean’s umbrella.

jean fusses over her lack of care as he snatches his umbrella back from her and puts it over the both of them. briefly, his mind wonders back to you.

————

next time jean sees you, you’re looking quite frustrated and upset as you shovel dirt into a an empty pot. sasha is, once again, going to the bathroom in the building over.

“are you alright,” he’s hesitant.

you jump up, not even noticing him once he’d walked in. you relax while you sigh, eyebrows bunching up in frustration.

“i’m okay,” it seems you’re telling yourself this more than you tell jean, “my parents are just being upsetting.”

jean gets a text from sasha, telling him that she’s going to go to the bathroom in the main building since the line was too long. he doesn’t care for some reason, instead taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“wanna talk about it,” he asks, his body warm next to your’s.

you sigh for the umpteenth time, “we’ve only met once and i’d feel as if i would be dumping this onto you.”

“i don’t mind. if you don’t want to speak about it, i won’t force you,” he shrugs.

“well,” you start with reluctance, “my family’s always been judgmental of how i should be allowed to spend my time. not only that, but careers, interests, and friends.”

“and i assume they’ve said something about your major,” he assumes, slightly sad as you nod.

“bingo. they don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for me, but i’m not too sophisticated myself. i’m barely an adult, i’ve just turned 19. why they won’t let me be a kid is beyond me,” you gently lay the seed into the soil of the pot.

“i’ve never had this issue, so i can’t say that i completely understand or that what i say will help. however, good parents shouldn’t treat their child like that. you’re your own person, they shouldn’t be trying to limit you and your experiences. it’s not fair to you,” he says, “you’re parents are ignorant.”

you stifle a laugh, “thank you, jean. i appreciate it, genuinely.”

his cheeks flush as he nods, telling you that it was just something a friend would do for another.

“what’s your instagram,” you ask, swiftly pulling your phone from your pocket and pulling up the app.

he tells you nervously, three dings emitting from his phone in his pocket. one follow, one like, and one message.

jean finds himself texting you at nine pm.

————

jean finds himself giddy a few months later. he’s talked to you nonstop ever since he’s gotten your instagram, easily falling for you as he learns more about you.

he’s teaching you how to paint today. or, not really teach, but just helping you get started.

he sits on his couch while he waits, opting to watch some k-drama that connie recommend to him. he tells you that you can just walk in since the door’s unlocked, but jean has a feeling you would’ve just walked in anyways.

he hugs you excitedly whenever you walk in, leading you over to one of the easel and canvases he’s set up for you. he looks at your outfit.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, not really thinking before he speaks.

“yea...? gotta problem with it,” you’re immediately defensive, and it has jean bouncing back with realization.

“oh my god, i meant you’re wearing that to paint? you’re outfit looks good on you! it’s cute! n-not to say that you’re cute or anything! er—i don’t mean that you’re not cute!” jean flushes, “i am... going to stop talking..”

you giggle at him, “it’s okay jean, i know what you mean.”

“o-okay,” he relaxes, “do you need to borrow any clothes? i don’t want your shirt to get dirtied.”

“just a shirt, your pants wouldn’t fit me,” you ask while you untuck your loose white button up from your jeans.

he scurries off to find you a shirt, slapping himself on the forehead in embarrassment. he grabs you a light grey shirt with paint splotches scattered on it, which he’s once painted a mural in.

he turns his back to you whenever he gives you the shirt, instead focusing on the collection of painting supplies he’s set out on his work tray. he’s chosen acrylics for you, claiming that they’re the easiest to do if you’re a beginner. you have a feeling that he’s lying, especially since he’s an art major.

“are we painting anything specific,” you ask and sit down on the stool provided for you.

“actually, i was thinking of letting you choose. maybe some flowers or plants since they help you relax,” he contemplates aloud, hand pressed to his chin.

“let’s paint a sunflower,” you say reluctantly, “they should be easy enough to paint.”

he nods, starting put small spurts of paint onto his pallet. you mimic his actions, carefully stroking the canvas with your paintbrush.

“relax your shoulders,” he suggests, noticing just how stiff you are, “if you’re too stiff then the painting will be too. this is about relaxing.”

“i just don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“hey, like bob ross always says; there are no mistakes, just happy accidents,” jean gives a lazy smile as he continues to paint.

you laugh at him, finally relaxing your body and brushing the brush across the canvas. you both chat absentmindedly as you paint, finding comfort in one another’s voice and movements. you’re both playing 20 questions, if you can call a conversation that.

“the most embarrassing thing... probably walking in on my friends having sex,” he briefly remembers his friend, bertholdt, on top of reiner, “it’s how they came out to me.”

you cackle, “oh my god!! they must’ve been mortified!!”

“they were, i felt so bad for walking in on them. now, it’s a funny joke since they’re both out to everyone,” he snickers, “now, where’s your favorite place on earth that you’ve been to?”

“a amusement park over in marley. snuck off with my first ever boyfriend there,” you stroke your brush once more, “or maybe the swimming pool in my parents house. anywhere that i can feel weightless.”

he hums in acknowledgment, “mine’s out in the forest probably. i like it quiet.”

“quiet is always nice. so, jean, have you ever had a girlfriend,” you laugh at jean’s face scrunch up from a childish question.

“yeah, i’ve had one. it went really well at first but it turns out that she likes girls. it hurt at first, cause i loved her, but i got over it. i’ve got no hard feelings against her, she can’t help liking girls. her and i are just really close friends now,” he has a fond smile on his face as he thinks of mikasa.

“i’m glad the two of you are still friends, and i’m sure that she appreciates your kindness to her,” you reciprocate a smile.

“me too. anyways, since you want to dive into my love life, let’s dive into your’s. have you ever been in love?”

you face heats up while you pause your movements, “y-yeah. not until recently though.”

jean’s eyes widen as his own cheeks flush a bright red, and for once he prays.

he prays that it’s him you’re in love with.

————

a month later and you still have the painting of a sunflower that jean did. it makes you embarrassed every time you look at it, even though jean didn’t know the meaning behind the flower.

you sit on the floor of the greenhouse, ignoring how the rain thumps gently on the glass roof. jean’s sitting beside you, leaning all of his weight on your body, which makes you laugh.

“you never told me what you’re planting,” he points out while adding more of his weight onto you.

you laugh while you shove him off of you, “i can’t with you on me like that.”

“well, now i’m not on you so,” he grins cockily, and you want to smack it off of him.

“okay, okay! i’m planting a primrose,” you say while you gently plant a seed into the soil.

“what’s the occasion?”

“what do you mean,” you raise a questioning eyebrow.

“my dad always got my mom those flowers on valentine’s day or for their anniversary. now, my mom puts them on his grave. it means ‘i can’t live without you’ or symbolizes young love,” he explains, “who’re they for?”

embarrassment hits you like truck. you were planting these for jean. whenever they were blooming, you were going to give them to him. thank god you didn’t.

you laugh nervously, “no one! i just felt like planting them! they’re pretty flowers.”

“whatever you say,” jean shrugs, heart tingling with pain.

whenever the flowers had bloomed, you stood at jean’s doorstep with the pot in your hands. your cheeks were hot as you stared at your feet, hoping to god that jean felt the same way towards you.

when jean opens his door, he doesn’t expect to see you holding the potted plant. you’d told him that it wasn’t for anyone and it wasn’t for him, so why’d you have it. did you want him to take care of it or something?

“for you,” you stumble over your words a bit while you thrust the pot against his chest.

it’s his turn to be embarrassed, these are for him! the flower is so pretty, full bloom and showing itself off towards the sun. jean hurries to place the pot on his living room coffee table, then he pounces.

his arms wrap around you and hold you close, his face is emitting a heat when he pulls away to look at you.

“me too,” you look at him confused, “i love you too.”

you feel like crying, for some reason this means the absolute world to you. you wrap your arms around his neck, not able to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he laughs while squeezing you tight.

“i did,” your laughter is muffled until he pulls away.

“when?”

“since we met. granted, i didn’t expect to meet you that day. lilac means the start of a new love. and then i told you again when you painted the sunflower again. sunflowers mean pure love,” you wipe away tears as jean pulls you inside his house by your hand.

“i’m such an idiot,” he smacks a palm to his forehead, “that’s what you and sasha were laughing about when we met, wasn’t it?”

“yea,” you watch him lead you to his bedroom, somewhere that you’ve been to on many occasions.

he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you closer to him—if it were even possible. he’s littering your face with soft kisses that tickle your skin and make you giggle.

“what are you doing?!”

“i’ve been wanting to do this since i’ve met you, give me a break,” he mumbles against your skin, lips finally making contact with your’s.

the kiss is sweet like candy, and you almost can’t take it. you deepen the kiss without hesitation, surprising jean, who obviously reciprocates. you whimper against jean’s mouth whenever you grant him access to explore your own.

he pulls away, a shy look in his eyes that tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“yes, jean. as long as you’re gentle,” you put a hand on top his cheek, stroking it gently.

he smiles before asking his next question shyly, “could we... do a different position? one that isn’t missionary.”

“jean, i’ve only had sex a few times. all were in missionary and were hookups. as long as it’s with you, i don’t mind what we do,” you reassure, scooting closer to him.

he’s surprised that his face doesn’t burst into flames, at this point.

“okay... could you... turn around,” your face twists into confusion, “you’ll find out.”

it sounds ominous, but since it’s jean, you don’t mind. you turn your back to him, shivering whenever his lips kiss at the nape of your neck. his chest presses against your back and he slips one of his arms under the arm against the bed.

his lips bite on your neck while his hands sliver their way up to your boobs. you sit up for a moment, pulling the loose shirt you were wearing off of your body. you shimmy your pants off while you’re at it, easily flopping back into jean’s arms.

god, he’s so close to fainting just from seeing you without clothes. especially when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra.

his hands grope at your chest, rolling your nipples through his nimble fingers. you whimper shyly, hand coming up to grab at his own.

“cute,” he smiles whenever you look over your shoulder, the same hand drifting from your tit to the waistline of your panties.

his hand reaches inside your hand plain underwear as you willingly spread your legs open, something you’re secretly embarrassed about, but you decide to ignore it anyways. with hesitance, his fingertip comes in contact with your clit. you flinch at the contact and let out a gasp, once again squeezing at his hand.

“spread your legs wider for me, love,” he murmurs in your ear, nudging his wrist against your thigh.

you oblige silently, hooking your foot around the back of jean’s knee.

“good girl,” he smiles, two fingers gently pressing against your clit after he’s wet them with his spit.

you moan out whenever jean starts rubbing lazy circles into your clit and his other hand gropes at your tit. your hips buck forward on instinct, which has you biting your lip from embarrassment.

“can you try to keep your hips still for me,” he kisses at your earlobe, stubble scratching against your neck.

you nod to him, even if you both know that you won’t uphold that promise.

whenever his fingers move up a speed, so does the volume of your moans.

“jean,” you whimper, “i’m gonna cum.”

“it’s okay, you’ve been so good for me, my pretty girl. go ahead and cum,” he smiles against your skin, once again speeding up his tempo.

your nails are biting into his wrist as your hips start to buck almost uncontrollably. your head is thrown back while you open your mouth in a silent scream and your eyes roll back. jean slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

his smile stretches wider when he holds his fingers up to the light, admiring how the digits glistened in against the early morning sun peeking through the curtains. he also manages to take off your panties.

he puts the two fingers in your mouth once he’s done admiring them, cooing praises in your ear. a string of salvia is connect to his fingertips whenever he pulls them out of your mouth, making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles and reaches his warm hand back down to your wet cunt.

you gasp at the coldness of your spit coming into contact with your heated entrance. his fingers enter you slowly and cautiously and it takes your breath away.

“you’re so tight,” still smiling, “when’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, pretty girl?”

“f-fuck... maybe like... six months ago,” you pant like a dog in heat.

“it’s good thing you’ve got me now, huh? gonna take care of you now.”

you’re squeezing your pretty eyes closed while you adjust to the feeling of two fingers inside of you. jean feels himself memorizes the look on your face in his brain whenever he gives a shallow thrust with his fingers. you wiggle your hips a bit, whining out for jean to give you more.

he does exactly that.

he starts to finger you slowly, eventually speeding up the speed as you get more and more used to the feeling. his fingers curl against your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips once again.

“there! there,” you buck again when he continues to brush over it.

angling his fingers just right, he starts to thrust and curl his fingers inside of you at the perfect speed.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you gasp whenever your toes start to curl.

“are you gonna cum again? it’s okay. go ahead and cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he reassures while pecking at your neck lazily.

you come once again after a few seconds pass, legs shaking when jean doesn’t slow down his speed.

“can’t...! i can’t cum again,” you whimper while arching your back against jeans torso.

“i know you can,” he whispers, “gotta prepare you for my cock, remember?”

his filthy words make you mewl as you feel yourself already approaching another orgasm quickly. you scream whenever you orgasm again, hips jerking back and forth wildly as his other hand starts rubbing on your puffy little clit.

you’re crying from the intensity. you’re sure that if you’d be able to take all of this if you had fucked anyone these past six months.

instead of slowing down, jean actually speeds up his movements again. you know that you’re mascara might be smearing, you can’t remember if it’s waterproof, tear proof—what the fuck ever.

your legs convulse when jean manages to work you up to another mind blowing orgasm. but this time, you squirt all over jean’s hand and the insides of your plump thighs.

“there we go,” he praises, “that’s what i needed.”

he’s finally slowing his fingers down, and you wonder if they’re aching at the moment.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babble as your nails scratch at his wrist.

“such a sweet girl, thanking me when i haven’t even trained you.”

your chest is heaving up and down while jean pulls his cock out of his pants, a moment’s rest.

you gulp whenever you see his dick. you didn’t believe sasha’s jokes whenever she said jean not only had a horse face but also a horse cock. how she knew, you didn’t ask, but either way she was right. you’d have to apologize to sasha for not heeding her warnings after this.

“don’t be scared, love. i’ll take care of you,” he comforts you while pulling your leg up a bit.

his fingers squeeze at the soft flesh that’s the back of your thigh, instructing you on how to insert himself in your tight little pussy.

after guiding jean’s cock in you, you sob out from just how much he fills you up already. you don’t take a pause, too eager to feel jean inside of you.

noticing this, jean hooks his arm around your thigh and grabs your hand. the angle has his hitting spots that he hadn’t before, pussy fluttering around his cock in effect.

“be patient,” he demands in a soft tone, his hand guiding your own, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“don’t care, need you so bad,” you sniffle and wiggle your hips once more, ignoring the slight burn.

sighing, jean carefully thrusts the rest of his cock inside of you. you sob out in both pleasure and pain, hand now going back to scratching at his wrist.

“i told you, sweet girl,” you look at him from over your shoulder, “you gotta listen to me.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper while jean kisses away a tear.

“t’s okay, now just wait until your comfortable,” he advises, unhooking his arm from your thigh and holding it with his hand.

it takes a minute or two, but jean is nothing but attentive during this. thumb stroking your thigh, lips kissing your neck and cheek, whispering quietly in your ear that you’re doing so well.

when you’re ready, he thrusts into you softly. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when his dick hurts from not cumming. after seeing you’re alright with it, he thrusts more vigorously. with your skin slapping against one another’s tenderly and tits bouncing jean is groaning in your ear.

the hand not holding your thigh holds onto your boob, pinching your nipple and then rolling it in between his fingers again. the kisses he’s pressing against your shoulder feels so hot and sweet against your sweaty skin.

your whines and moans are so cute, begging for jean to cum at the same time you do and for him to come inside.

“you want my cum in you,” he pants, “anything you want since you’ve asked so nicely.”

he speeds his hips up just a bit, guttural groans coming from his throat as your pussy grips him like a vise.

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you’re mewling almost makes jean black out.

“i’m right behind you, go ahead, love,” his eyebrows bunch together as he nears his orgasm.

after two more thrusts, the both of you are coming. jean’s groans are surprisingly starting to turn into soft moans, which is something you’ll try to get out of him another time.

after you both come down from your high, jean’s pulling his softening dick out of you. he lays on his backside, pulling your weak body on top of his chest with ease.

“love you,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“primrose love,” you smile goofily at him.

“primrose love.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot jean #snk jean #jean aot #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot fluff #aot smut

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madfantasy · 3 years

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I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

#ask #text #diary #personal #my art #miss

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pips-fics · 3 years

Text

ask by @writercirrus / @sickiecirrus (be sure to check out her fantastic writing!) : Hi!! My favorite fic is the one where Han gets sick and calls Channie who runs over and helps him. Idk why but I keep rereading. Your stories are always well written!! I’ve never been like LET ME EDIT THIS PLZZZ like I do with most other fanfics!! I do have a request... Channie gets the stomach flu and doesn’t want to be babied or fussed over but finally gives in and lets his members take care of him (idk why but I feel like Channie would be like that)

big thanks to madeline once again for the lovely title! <3 and thank you to cirrus for the kind words and their request, it was a lot of fun to write :D

tw: vomiting, insomnia, overworking

take a rest, hyung –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“you are not allowed to leave your bed today.” minho had taken one look at chan and decided to lay down the law. behind him, felix cackled.

“chan stay in bed challenge!”

chan groaned. that was the thing about these two: he couldn’t say no to either of them. felix because saying no to him felt like bullying a small child; minho because he already knew chan disagreed and clearly did not care. chan tried anyway.

“i’m fine. you’re both just overreacting.”

jisung poked his head through the doorway, looking skeptical. “who’s overreacting?”

hope blossomed in chan’s chest. jisung would understand. “sungie! i just want to work on that one b-side, just for a bit. non strenuous activity, y’know?”

“oh,” jisung said, giving chan a quick once-over. “no.”

“what?”

“yeah, hyung, you look like you’re going to pass out. don’t move.”

it took all of chan’s willpower not to throw something in a fit of rage when jisung came over to check his temperature with the back of his hand. or it would have, except chan did feel slightly like he might pass out, actually. jisung whistled, and chan pretended like his head didn’t feel like it was splitting down the middle.

“he’s pretty warm,” jisung said to minho, who nodded as if he already knew that.

“well he’s been working non-stop recently and hardly sleeping,” hyunjin said from the doorway, quickly catching on to the situation. he took about three strides and crossed the room to press a glass of cool water to chan’s lips. chan sputtered.

“what is wrong with you all? i’m not dying, i can take care of myself.”

hyunjin looked at him skeptically. “you literally can’t, that’s the point i just made.”

rather than respond to that, chan got up and pushed his way through the small crowd that had begun to encircle him. he walked to the kitchen and then, without preamble, vomited into the sink.

after three quick, powerful, and unpleasant expulsion of his stomach contents, chan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and turned to see seungmin starring at him, open mouthed. across the room, jeongin choked on the water he’d been drinking. chan frowned.

“what? i feel better now,” he explained. seungmin’s mouth snapped shut, then opened again.

“what. the fuck.”

chan soon found himself being marched back to his bedroom by the two youngest members of stray kids.

he wasn’t stupid. chan understood that the other boys cared about him, and that they were just trying to help. he knew it would make them feel better, so he resigned himself to allowing their fussing - just temporarily.

chan would admit that the cool towels jisung kept putting on his forehead felt nice, and it was very sweet that the boys ensured someone was with him at all times - to prevent boredom, seungmin said. but then, that was the problem - chan wouldn’t be bored if they would just let him work, but as soon as he took his laptop out, minho confiscated it.

“this is so unfair,” chan complained. minho just smirked at him, seeming to take great pleasure in chan’s annoyance.

“you can thank me later.”

chan grumbled under his breath, but thought smugly that the joke was on minho, in the end. chan had his phone hidden under the covers, so he could work on writing lyrics using that. heck, he could even plug in his AirPods an work on producing with a mobile app, if he really wanted to. chan smiled slightly, feeling clever, and then sprinted to the bathroom.

despite minho’s annoying tough love, there was something soothing about having someone there to brush chan’s sweaty bangs away from his forehead as he emptied his stomach. this time the nausea didn’t pass quite a quickly, or as completely - even after a ten minute camp out filled with productive heaving, chan still felt woozy, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. he hid them in his hoodie pockets as minho guided him back to the bedroom.

things were quieter after that. most of the younger guys were at the studio practicing the dance moves for their upcoming music video, and changbin, who chan hadn’t seen all day, was probably cooped up with jisung trying to pick up the slack from chan’s day off. chan was genuinely exhausted and was tempted to actually rest, but sleep didn’t come easily with guilt hanging over him. no matter how much he told himself it was better in the long run, the knowledge that someone had to do whatever he didn’t have time for was eating chan up inside.

so, after trying and failing to sleep for about ten minutes, chan slid under the covers and got to work on his phone. he tried to be kind to himself, but he wasn’t making much progress even while he was working on stuff.

when changbin barged in and suddenly threw chan’s covers off to snatch his phone out of his hands, chan was less than pleased.

“changbin! what the fuck!”

“hyung, you’re supposed to be sleeping!” changbin said, annoyance lining his voice.

“what, did jisung tell you that?” chan felt angry tears spring to his eyes and quickly wiped them away, but he saw changbin soften.

“of course he did,” changbin said. “he’s so worried about you that he can’t get a single thing done, hyung. so please, just rest? at least let your eyes take a break from your screens?”

in the corner of the room, minho checked his watch - or the place on his wrist where the would’ve been a watch, if he’d owned one. “welp, looks like my shift is up. changbin, babysitting duty is all yours.”

changbin frowned, but took minho’s place silently. chan refused to meet his eyes.

“hyung?”

“just leave me alone, changbin, please.”

it wasn’t anger, but it came off that way. it was shame.

the thought that chan had thrown jisung off, too, and now changbin was here taking care of him - chan hated it. they were all going to get in trouble for slacking at this rate, and it was chan’s fault about three times over. truthfully, chan felt like crying, but that would only make things worse, so instead he pulled out out a notebook. on accident, he met changbin’s disapproving gaze. chan’s voice came out sounding very small.

“bin, please.”

arms crossed, changbin breathed a sigh through his nose. he didn’t say anything, but his eyes slid away from chan and he clear didn’t intend to stop him.

the guilt settled heavier than ever in chan’s already upset stomach, but he hoped making some progress on work would help him feel better. unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. with every minute that passed, chan felt worse. he jotted down some notes, just vague ideas but most of his energy was being expended just trying to keep his stomach contents in place. by the time he admitted to himself that he was fighting a losing battle, chan could hardly move without risking making a mess.

he set his notes aside, and put a trembling hand over his mouth. his attempt to get changbin’s attention was cut off before he could even say “bin,” and it was all chan could do to swallow the sick in his throat back down. he wasn’t entirely successful, but thankfully, changbin had sprung up and handed chan the plastic bowl minho had left by his bedside.

things still weren’t pretty. chan had held the sick in for so long that once he stopped fighting it, it spewed forth with so much force that it splattered the bed - and chan’s notes. changbin scrambled to save them, but chan waved him off.

“throw them out,” he said dejectedly, right before coughing himself into another vomiting spell. at this point, chan was beyond exhausted, and the room wouldn’t stop spinning before his eyes. when he squeezed them shut, he felt even sicker and retched hollowly until changbin forced him to drink some water that chan threw up again almost immediately. chills ran through him so viciously that chan worried he might lose his grip on the bowl, and was relieved when someone else’s hands appeared to keep it steady.

by the time he was done, chan wanted absolutely nothing more than a hug. when he looked up with tears in his eyes, chan found that jeongin was the one holding the bowl and froze.

“are you all back?” it was one thing, he thought, to inconvenience changbin alone - he and changbin had been through thick and thin together, and despite chan’s guilt, he knew changbin would brush this off soon enough. he wasn’t as sure about the other members of his team. “are you okay?” chan asked, on second thought.

jeongin scoffed. “hyung, can you please stop worrying about the rest of us for one second and worry about yourself? or better yet, just let us do the worrying for you, for once.”

chan sniffled, and felt tears prick his eyes. his boys had really matured. the realization took the breath out of him for a second, and the tension went with it. he flopped back onto his pillows and nodded.

“yeah, alright, innie, i’ll give it a go.”

after that, it was a flurry of activity. tasks, apparently, had been delegated by seungmin, so changbin cleaned out the bucket, hyunjin grabbed more water, minho put the blankets in the wash, jisung brought new blankets, jeongin cleaned chan up - and felix was on immediate snuggle duty. as the others finished their tasks, they joined, one by one, until the bed was a pile of the people chan treasured most.

in the end, it was easier than he’d thought, falling asleep surrounded by love.

——

a very quick reader survey (specific to this fic!) to make me smile and celebrate hyunjin <3

——

feel free to send more asks! / rules

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jjkpls · 3 years

Text

Mean Yoongi 4 - Finale (M)

> genre : angst (a hell of a lot), smut

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> total words : 11k+

> warnings/content : takes place post rona quarantine, explicit sexual content (bj, fingering, dirty talk, lowkey cum play), bad writing (it’s been a while, i hope you don’t feel the struggle too much)

> summary : You haven’t talked to Yoongi in so long, now that you’re allowed to see him again, you’re not sure how to do it anymore.

> previous

"Your hair has grown a lot."

I don't say anything. I stare, probably a bit cold, I don't make an effort to answer. There's a lot of things to say but no words seem right. Her attempt sucks anyway. I can tell, from the way she nibbles on her bottom lip, eyes shying away, that she thinks the same.

The moment is filled with tension. The bad kind of tension. She's fidgety, feeling awkward. I feel it too but I'm better at hiding it. I've always been. Sitting back in my chair, observing her attentively, I can't help my insides from twisting on themselves, my heart from squeezing painfully in my chest. She's the same, mostly. With a shadow under the eyes she didn't use to have, a pallor I hate on her cheeks -usually painted that lovely shade of crimson, whenever I'm here to watch, as if the colour exists only for me- a slump in her stance. I wonder what I'm like to her. My hair's changed, as she mentioned. It's quite long, it's grown indeed, and enough for my natural colour to take over my whole head. I am tired, both in body and mind. So much so, I don't find the energy to tease her like I would before. And maybe, that's the biggest thing that's changed about me, and this sole thing is turning me into someone else entirely. I may as well be a whole someone else. Not the man who used to, every now and then, sprinkle glimpses of an awkward grin I've never gotten used to wearing but that I know, she loves. Certainly not the one who teased her with a relationship she could graze but not catch, with my fingers deep in her cunt, using crude and harsh words foreign to my lips straight in her ear, because she secretly loves it. Dancing on her feet, playing with her own fingers, gesticulating and waiting, hoping for an easy way out to manifest somehow. Probably for me to grant it to her because no matter how difficult I make myself to be, I've always been good at that. Dictate and guide how things go between us. I am sweet even if I wouldn't ever admit it aloud and it's been convenient, always, for her. I'm sort of curious to see how it'll go, how it can go if for once, I'm not making any effort for the both of us. I raise from my seat, eyes dropping from her. (She's wearing Converse, I note. This probably because she didn't plan on seeing me.) Hands digging deep in my pockets, I'm not sure I can approach her. These weird, implemented reflexes raise in her too. People don't do it so much any more. Getting close. And I can see her flinch in impulse before her eyes grow big and demanding. "I got tested-" She cuts herself short. It sounds weird. To speak in this deafening silence, she can hear it as much as I can. And to say those words too. She doesn't have to finish the sentence, I get the idea and from the shade of her voice, I can tell her results have turned out negative. Maybe I'm a bit irresponsible. Maybe a bit too desperate. In any case, it makes me scoff, roll my eyes. Staring down at my feet, hair hiding most of my face to her, I have to bite back on my tongue the words that almost roll out. Something about not giving a shit about that, and her being ridiculous. I don't really trust my mouth, I have no idea what would come out of it, therefore I don't speak. My hand reaches forward, bony fingers catching the front of her shirt before I'm dragging her to me. Very naturally, as if it hasn't been months since the last time I've touched her, as if even before that we were used to holding unto each other like that, she melts in my arms. "Why didn't you call?" She could, technically, ask me the same thing: I could have done it. I hope she doesn't ask. I wouldn't know what to say to her. How honest to be. I'd probably say that I was waiting for her to do it first. Which sounds ridiculous, childish as hell but couldn't be more true. I'd say, if I had a different tongue, that wouldn't get tied up anytime deep feelings are involved, that I was worried and terrified and sad, like I had not been in a long while. And all this because she wouldn't call, she wouldn't reach out for me and my heart, probably too profound and too serious, couldn't quite comprehend and certainly not accept her silence. Those months drove me crazy. Literally. I came to ask myself if I didn't make it all up. If the special bound between us had ever really existed or if it was just all projection. "You didn't either." She ends up saying. Clearly, she's as speechless as I am when it comes to explaining months, almost half a year, of pure dumbassery. It's not like it's necessary to explain anyway. She should just know how to tell me that she missed me. And I should know to do it too. She's better at that stuff. Not that good but still better than I am, I think. If she can't do it then I'm not sure I can even try. But today I'm different, as I said. And when she accuses me like she just did, I tense but don't let go. I can hear the way her breath catches in her throat, her shoulders rising to her ear. She's probably expecting me to back away and start cursing at her. I only squeeze further though, sliding my chin along her shoulder so to tuck my neck nicely with hers, humming pure appreciation, when it feels as comfortable and warm as it possibly can. She smells wonderful, she's warm and so willing to let me wrap myself around her. "I wasn't at my best so- I thought I'd just wait for you to call when you would-" I found the courage, apparently, to say all the things that's been heavy on my mind. It's easy when she's this tender. Embodiment of warmth, of welcoming, of loving, I can only be serene, voice low and soft. "But you never did." The only reason I allow myself to reproach the things that technically she can also blame me for, is because I know, that pressed that hard and that close against her, she can feel my heart beating insanely, exposing and telling on me. "You should have!" I don't need to say anything for her to gather that I'm not amused. I unwrap from her, deciding she's being too much of a stubborn brat. I sigh, watching her pointedly not watching me. She yelps and finally grants me her pretty eyes when a pinch to the back of her thigh, right under her ass, scalds her. Here's her "Mean Yoongi", as she so calls me, according to the Snapchat conversation she shares with Taehyung. I see her bite back a smile, her pretty lip flushed when she releases it. "What was that for?" She whines as if it's not fair, rubbing the soreness of her thigh with one hand. I smile mostly with my eyes, deciding to ignore the tears that have gathered in her eyes while I wasn't looking. I back away, taking a stand against the top of my desk, arms crossed tight on my chest. "You deserve way more than that. Lucky for you, I feel lazy." Her gaze follows mine, aimed at the leather sofa. The thing presently empty but virtually filled with the substantial memory of that one fateful time I touched her for the first time, her ass made red by my ministrations. I can't do that today. I'm too soft for now. I still enjoy seeing her squirm, blush and shy away while simultaneously loving thinking about it though. "I could tell you the same, Yoongi. You could have-" I'm losing patience. It's not entirely against her. It's more accurately against us. We're playing the same pointless game. The unnecessarily torturing game of denying, of dismissing. I should probably just drop it, even if it hurts and leaves me with too many pressing interrogations. I might look a bit more serious when I start studying her face with great attention. She's beautiful. I missed seeing her. The mental picture I had kept of her, along with the real ones I'd spent months looking at, didn't do her much justice. She looks somewhat surreal. Prettier than I remember, yet printed with the same aura I recognize. "I told you why already." I whisper to her. My own voice surprises me. It's as if my heart, that's been too hurt, has been left tender, exposed and I'm turned weak even in demeanour. I bet it's confusing for her. It is for me. Feels disarming. "But- what's the point then? If when you're down you don't call-" To that, I don't know what to say. I don't know how to admit to her, if she hasn't guessed it yet, the extend of my inability to seek for what I need, for what makes me feel good, for her who I've wanted and craved for. Of course, I needed her. Of course, I wanted her to be here for me -and be needed and wanted by her. I don't know how to say it though therefore I kiss her. A soft press to the corner of her mouth. I smile, probably looking dumb, when I see her wide eyes blinking, sending one lone tiny tear on her cheekbone. Her cheeks turn red because apparently, she's not immune to me and my kisses anymore, her immediate, strong reactions turning out to be the same as the ones she used to have, in the very, very beginning, when she was so putty, so lenient, such a good girl and also, the shyest and most innocent little thing. She needs some time to accommodate, to say the least. She's barely kissing me back. Simply letting me pepper her mouth with kisses, closing her eyes, hands reaching for my sweatshirt yet not so much giving me back.

After too long of not enough, I need to stop. Because what I think I know might not be so right anymore. Maybe I read things wrong, yet again, and she's not in the same place I stand. After looking at her face, and her eyes, who struggle to dry up and look at me, I ask, "What's wrong?", granting her all of my attention. "Wha- you, what's wrong?" I scoff. She looks like she's about to cry while snarking like a brat. "You're really testing my patience." "You're different. You don't have patience normally." I tilt my head to the side, a tiny smile lifting one corner of my lips. I can't say it's not true. "I thought you wanted me sweeter?" She stares, frowning. Confused, embarrassed and almost upset. I know I'm a weird fucking version of myself right now. The one that hasn't come out a lot these past few years and that she'd certainly never met before. I'm scared she doesn't like it. Maybe she hates it. If she liked me before, there's no reason she'd like that one Yoongi, is there? "I'm just messing with you. I'm tired and-" Gentle fingers wrap around her hands, intimating her to walk forward, forward and close enough for me to close my lips on hers again. "It's been a while." I let her look into my eyes, read the longing and probably the sadness. "Sorry if I'm weird. If you don't like me like that just- bear with me for today, hm?" "I bear with you all the time." Well. That's not even the last thing I expected her to say. Pretty mean for a sweet girl like her. "What does that mean?" She shrugs. She knows but she won't say. She has that pout on her mouth. The tilted one she does whenever something's been said loud and clear in that little head of hers but she's not generous enough to indulge in sharing. I stare, disapprovingly, thumb chastising kindly her cheek. "That's rough." "I don't mean it like that-" "Then what do you mean?" My mouth finds her again for an instant. It's a soft gentle kiss that doesn't hint at anything more. She remains silent. "Cats got your tongue? You usually can't shut up but you're so quiet today." Through her cute pout, she mumbles, "I guess I'm weird too today." My phone buzzes where it lays on my desk. With a quick glance, I can tell it's a text from Namjoon. I don't even need to read it. I can guess it. He's probably calling me an idiot while simultaneously demanding me not to be one.

I heard him earlier, I bet she doesn't know, when he held her hostage by telling that I was awake and that she should go say hi. He held her hostage because she was just passing by. From how loud Taehyung and Jimin were when the front door banged opened, half an hour ago, I could tell they were drunk as hell and she had just planned on dropping them off and leave. And Namjoon, being the good man and even better friend that he is, wouldn't let that happen. How could he when he's seen me all those months in states he probably hoped, back when we were young trainees, that he'd never had to see me again in? It hurt and it still does a little, to imagine that for the first time after so long, after finally being freed from the government harsh but necessary restrictions, she would come so close to me yet consider pass by me, without saying hi, without inquiring if I'm here, even. If it were not for the firm, absolutely non-subtle suggestion coming from Namjoon, she would have done it. She would have left ignoring me. Then she knocked gently on my door, I could tell she was terrified when I opened it and faced her, quiet. And maybe it was pure projection but I felt she wanted to be here. She was scared and embarrassed, didn't know what to say, what to do with herself and me, but she wanted to stay and try to untie this shitty intricate ball of knots. The thing is, it's late. It's super fucking late and I'm reminding when the screen of my phone lights up again to remind me to check the text I just received. She arrived too late at the dorms. We wasted, collectively, too much time not saying much and here we are, standing in the dimly lighted studio, facing each other with too much of an ambiguous tension surrounding us. Everything is unclear. The kisses she would allow me to leave on her lips but not give back to me, tasting lovely but with an aftertaste, a bitter taste of confusion, raising questions as far as their meanings – are they greetings or goodbyes. It's past one in the morning but I'm not ready to let her leave, especially when I don't know what she'd be leaving behind. Anxiety is creeping in my bosom. It's pissing me off. Vainly I bend over, to my side, tapping my finger on my phone to have it lit up. Maybe Namjoon is not just insulting me and has left actual practical advice for me to follow and not fuck this up. "Yoongi?" My ears perk up but I don't look up yet. My eyes are messed up from the exhaustion and I struggle to read. I see keywords: idiot (as expected), asshole, chance, upset. I see the word "love" even, that makes me wince. How can he believe he'd help me by sending me this word when she's standing right in front of me? She called yet she still has not talked further. I shut my phone instantly, worried to have been too lowly engaged to her, to have vexed her in any way, to have been an idiot, precisely what Namjoon threatened me into not being. I raise an interested eyebrow, inviting her to talk and she finally does so, fast and barely audible, "Can I spend the night?" She grimaces. I mean to frown but I realise my face is already squished in a scowl. Maybe her grimacing makes sense. "You mean here, at the dorms?" I ask, forcing my expression to quiet down by a tonne because my shock seems wrongly interpreted by her. That seems to help. She looks at me with her big demanding eyes, the ones I know. The ones that beg, unapologetically for my affection. She nods. "With me or- in the spare room...?" She nods again. "That doesn't answer my question, ___." "Yoongi." Here comes the little brat tone half-whining, half-menacing because she doesn't get her way straight away. How lovely to meet her again. I decide to spare her from any torture, for now, shutting the light off and guiding her, with my hands on her waist, through the dark and out my studio. "Why do you even ask? How many times have I invited you to stay?" I whisper in her ear, adoring the way I feel her tremble against me. "It's different now." She huffs, not the least hiding her annoyance. I can admit things are different now. Sort of feels like a whole different fucking life, if you ask me. I wouldn't have imagined that I needed the world to be taken upon such a devastating global catastrophe for my lover to accept spending one full night with me, for the first time. I don't even see the correlation, honestly. I don't even know why she didn't want to before. I forced myself not to dwell on this question too much. Simply accepting that she wouldn't and that's her right to not want to. But that was weird. "Is it?" My arm reaches before her, turn the handle right because she's left lost and awaiting in the dark. There's a gust of her smell coming to me. The sweet, comforting, familiar and magically charming, addicting scent. There's the click of the knob in the dark, and the door opens up on the hallway's bright lightening. No words are exchanged as I lead her, a hand gently pressed to the bottom of her back, so close to her ass the idea that I could just let it slide down can't leave my agitated mind. Most doors are closed shut, there's no much noise being heard in the whole apartment apart from the occasional high pitched giggles from the two drunk kids in the living room. She's too quiet to be entirely at ease with the situation. I don't even think she's ever come inside my and Seokjin's bedroom. Seokjin.

I wonder how aware she is of the fact that I'm sharing my room with someone else. If she does, she didn't seem to mind when she asked, with her battling lashes and irresistible pout, to spend the night with me. If we do end up making him spend the night elsewhere, he might curse at me or give me the cold shoulder for a minute or two tomorrow, but he'll live. "Is it? Different?" I ask again. We've reached the bedroom and I decide to lock the door for good. If Seokjin were to, perhaps, come to our room to head to bed, he'd be met with a locked door.

She doesn't answer, still. I'm pretty sure she allows herself that because of how lenient I am with her today. She knows I'm not going to force the words out of her. I sigh calmly, resolved, black eyes patient as they fix her. "Of course, it is. Isn't it to you?" "What is?" Hands raised to the sky, eyebrows high in bewilderment, her confusion, so big it's almost revolt, couldn't be more explicit. "I'm asking because I don't know, ___. You don't talk to me, how am I supposed to know?" "Sorry." She mumbles. Blushing from embarrassment, as she lowers her hands, looks down and sinks on herself. "It's ok." My hand leads hers to my lips, I kiss its back. "Why didn't you call?" "Yoongi, sometimes I just don't know how you feel. No, always- I mean, never, I never know how you feel-" I'm not sure how much she means to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure she knows, if the way she seeks for words, not to offense me, is any tell. But she sucks at preserving them. Her words sting like hell. "During- I just- I didn't want to force myself into you if that's not what you wanted, that's all." "And that's not what you wanted? Just hearing me, you didn't want that?" I have to ask. It's probably better talking about her feelings than mine, right now. "Course, I did..." She sulks. "Then why not try? At least for yourself, I don't get you." Maybe resentment of a tortured, sensitized heart is unleashing. I don't want to ever harm her but she's done it, a lot. I don't want to believe it but maybe we've parted too long for a cold, unpenetrable wall not to have taken place between us. At least, provisionally. It can't be that unpenetrable. "I'm sorry." She lowers her head, whispering. Looking all saddened. Guilty. Nervous. And of course, I'm too soft. "You used to force yourself into my life all the fucking time, sneaking in my studio like an affection craving puppy, you didn't care back then but now that I like you, you don't want it anymore." Her eyes blink, shift suddenly up. Wide and alarmed. They scrutinize me sitting on the bed, checking my own nails, pretending to be nonchalant about the bitty bomb I've just dropped. "Wouldn't peg you for the heartbreaker type but ok-" "Don't say stuff like that." "Like what? Stuff that I mean?" I roll my eyes because the moron watches me with an emotion in her gaze, anger, she's menacing me. "It's not funny." "It really isn't." I shake my head along. "I talked with a friend and he said the reason you didn't call is probably that I was messing with you too much, not saying anything you wanted to hear. That you got tired of waiting for me." "Namjoon?" I nod. I had to talk to Namjoon. Because I had to talk about her to someone. Taehyung was simply out of the question. He's her best friend. One of the closest of my own friends. He probably knows me too well, knows I'm not that well-off in my personal life, in my heart and mind to be with his non-biological sister. And Namjoon is kind and loves me a lot, even if we wouldn't talk about that. So much so that it makes him genuinely happy to see me excited about someone. "It's not really- that. I'm just a coward, Yoongi. I didn't know how to talk to you and ask you the things I wanted to and-” She's staring down, at her own fingers pkaying with each others. Cute. “Yeah, I don't know, I didn't know how you felt about me." "I thought I was obvious." She shrugs. She shrugs. It should anger me. I'd have the right to be mad. I was obvious. I've been obnoxious. Letting her mess with me and my stuff because she owns me and therefore, by definition, also everything I have. Letting her in. Filling up all the room, all according to her own whims. "Com'here," I demand, rather gently, spreading my legs and leaning back, hands holding me up. She obediently steps forward, takes her seat on my lap, right where I want her. That's perfect. Everything I needed to obliviate the fact that she hasn't confessed liking me back yet. "What is it you wanted to ask me?" She's hovering over me, slightly taller, should feel superior. But her pretty face is turned down, eyes avoiding mines from shame, staring at her hands toying with the strings of my sweatshirt. The bubble, so intimate, is small, very very small and it's hard to live in it. The air she's breathing is mine, the same way the air I'm breathing is hers, and she must be aware of the way all I'm seeing are the tiny, pretty details of her face. "Yoongi. You really like me?" "Course, I do." My cheeks burn from embarrassment. I kind of hate it but I live for the grin she struggles to hide. "Stupid." Totally free and unnecessary but not unjustified, I deem. "Then can you be my boyfriend? Or like would you- would you like to be?" With a hurried press of my lips to the corner of her mouth, I attempt to hide the grin growing on them. "Took you long enough." I fail miserably as I can't help but smile against her mouth, poorly kissing it. "It doesn't answer my question." She points out. I know it doesn't. I hate how happy and rather emotional I felt just having her ask me to be her boyfriend. Who would have thought I would mind this much? Honestly, I wouldn't have guessed it. I never thought it'd move me that much. But I suppose, I should have known by now, that, that's what she does: she moves me. It's a breathtaking kiss, stolen or given while I press her down on her back, body not hovering but laying on hers, every inch of hers pointedly connected to mine, that shuts the conversation down. It does not have to matter. Now that we've found each other back, we believe again we have all the time in the world. Maybe it's a mistake. The state of our world, these days, tend to suggest we don't, we never know how much time we'll have and what exactly it'll be made of. I didn't actually answer but maybe the answer is so fucking evident, she should trust my lips and my hands and my eyes each time they linger on a part of her they seem to have a liking for. And perhaps, she could just accept me and everything else along and assume rightfully that if I wasn't saying it all, it wasn't because I didn't feel it, didn't want to, didn't have anything to say but because I could not. "The gears in that head of yours are killing the mood," I mumble against her cheek, bothered by her loss of commitment, here again, to make me feel lonely when she's just right fucking here. "What is it?" I ask in a gentle whisper.

Here above her, close enough to still share breath but far enough to see her face, it's impossible to act like a dick. Her eyes are shiny, dripping emotions. I can see them clearly without knowing exactly how to read them. She's held back by so many things but as always a timid mouth won't let them slip. I've yet, after all this time, to decide if I love or hate that about her. She can be so open, in appearance, she's animated, she's enthusiastic, she's bright and welcoming. But at the same time, the corridor she lets you in hides a door at the end that she simply cannot allow to let you slide through. I've caught glimpses of this room when she left the door ajar a few times, mostly when I'm balls deep in and maybe a bit too soft when I whisper sweet words in the shell of her ear. She's mostly a mirror of myself, a better version though. When my eyes can look bored, uninterested and sometimes borderline mean, hers are always soft, always kind. It doesn't matter what or who they are set on. Even when she's upset, when I've said something she didn't like to hear, when she's been teased one too many times by Taehyung or her boss has been a fucking asshole all day long, she'll have her eyebrows cutely dropping down, mimicking anger and failing poorly because the eyes, right under it, are still as tender and bright and beautiful. Right now the door is ajar and from what I can see in her eyes, she looks like she's in love with me. It's pure torture because I know, and I can see that too, that even if it were to be the case she wouldn't say, she wouldn't say the words, not to me, not like that anyway, she couldn't. Perhaps I'm seeing things. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or worse, my own reflection I catch in her eyes without recognising it. After a few seconds of her deliberately ignoring my question and me not getting impatient because I get to just watch her, I decide it doesn't really matter if she is or not in love with me if she keeps looking at me like that. The illusion so realistic, shocking my heart with delicious waves of electricity, I could live with that. "Yoongi?" And if she keeps saying my name like that, like a whine, like a shy little girl, I'll be spoiled forever. She says my name a lot today, I realise, as my spine is taken by an umpteenth wave of chill. Maybe she missed saying it. I surely missed hearing it. "Yeah?" I'm even more breathless than she is. Hovering above yet hanging from her mouth. I must look desperate to her. Even if this has the potential to tickle me the wrong way, I decide not to mind. It's pointless to fight back innate facts, isn't it? I am desperate for her, have been for fucking months, before even circumstances distanced us, I thought it could even end up killing me at some point. It was bad after a couple of weeks when I realised she'd still not called me. Not even a text or a word passed through Taehyung. Nothing at all and I had the sickening feeling growing in my stomach that it wouldn't change. After making sure she was ok, wherever she was, with whoever or maybe alone, she was fine and she was simply not reaching out for me, the torture really started. I just didn't get it. How could she, the most annoying little bug, stop doing what I thought her to like best, it is to say, bugging me? The last time we saw each other was fantastic. She had left slamming my door but with the pretty shade of infatuation on her cheeks, I had no doubt, even if things were not entirely cleared out yet -because I thought the cat and mouse game was entertaining to her as much as it was to me, and because at the time, we still felt like we had all the time in the world for this and for everything else- that we were good, better than good actually. I was confused, utterly lost. Too coward and too upset to reach out myself. If she wanted to talk to me, she would have done it, wouldn't she? She used to before. "Can you lie down? On your back, I mean." The request makes me raise an eyebrow. "You're always sorta on top of me, and I-" The sentence is never finished. She's embarrassed if the cute button of a mouth she wears along with the stealthy avoiding eyes are any teller. For some reasons, my heart beats faster in my chest in an uncomfortable thumping. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man. A grumpy control freak of an old man who's terrified by the least changement. Because Change to me, in all honesty, sounds horrifying -which sounds ridiculous given chances were bet on changes that ended up bringing the life that I now live, some rollercoaster, made of the worst up and downs sitting on top of the least trustworthy, stable ground. It's scary, feels ominous even when it's just my now-girlfriend sweetly starting to ask, and demand for things in my bed. Maybe I need to chill. Match better the chaos that's inside with the unbothered, emotionless exteriors. All I can think about is how lame her justification sounds given, "I can recall quite a good amount of times when you were on top.", and therefore, freak out about what's really behind her request. She frowns then glares, right in my eyes, at last, and sighs. She's being the snarky little girl who doesn't want to discuss and that's cute. That's adorable because I'm on top and I decide but she thinks she can control, demand from me. And she'd be right. She can ask anything from me. She always could. Rolling my eyes like I don't care, lazily rolling on my back like I'm not nervous as hell to just lay there for her, I watch carefully and savour the way she bites on her smiling lips, ecstatic as she is to have been granted an upperhand over me. She takes the seat she owns on my thighs, a mischievous glint decorating her gaze. "Do you remember our first time?" It does the trick. Her ephemeral sense of confidence flatters and she sinks down a little on herself -conveniently on my crotch-, flushing darkly. "I'm not senile, 'course I remember." Softly, the pads of my fingers press on her covered thighs. My eyes fixed on her lively face. She can't really bear it, they might burn her a little. She tries to flee, falling over, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. Her lips brush my skin, she sighs there, it's a wonderful, dip into her. "Remember the first time?" "I just said yes." She whispers the same way I do. I pinch very lightly the back of her thigh, not to hurt, just to warn her because she has a little edge to her tone. Of course, she'd be so impatient when I find myself able to be patient. "When we met for the first time." She leans back, curious eyes peeking at me. A lock of hair is brushing her cheek, I drag it behind her ear, kissing her lips with my thumb because I'm too lazy and laid too comfortably to try and raise up to her mouth. She frowns for a second before she shrugs. I can see she doesn't get where I'm going with that. If she can't even remember, she surely won't see. "You were in the kitchen with Tae, being loud as hell until I came in and you just stopped talking altogether." She rolls her eyes. "I thought you hated me." "I was just shy." She's a bit vexed that I'm bringing it up. I know that she hates that, when it's pointed out, that she gets shy and embarrassed and timid. I understand because I'm the same. The difference between us is that I hide pretty well my inner turmoil with a mask made of coldness, of confidence or disinterest. "You were, weren't you? Now, look at you..." Her eyes don't quit mine. She knows damn well what I mean. "Sitting on me like you're sitting on a throne." She actually giggles at that, tilts her head to the side, gaze going up to the skies as if she's considering the thought, a blatant giddy feeling of importance and timid pretension written all over. She knows it's right. I'm not sure to what extent she understands how much she owns me but she knows there's something big that's unsaid if she's allowed to just have me like that just from asking -only mildly politely. "Could have imagined that, princess?" She's too honest, shakes her head no. I smile lightly, amused because now that I've raised the question, I realise I couldn't have imagined that either. I didn't like her too much at the beginning. Or to be more precise, she gave me a bad first impression. I'm never good with new people but this girl, it just went wrong. I'd been chanted so many praises about her and when finally, I got to meet her because she was for once hanging out at the dorms when other people than Taehyung and Jimin were here, she shut off as soon as I walked in, for some reasons I didn't get at the time, decided to be unfair and that I was not deserving of her infamous sweetness. The stark contrast between her bright boisterous peals of laughter before I entered the room and heavy mean silence once I'd sat on one of the bar stools made me livid. I thought it'd be the end of it. I wouldn't get to know the person, the "amazing person", I've been told about because I wasn't meriting somehow. And after months of forced proximity, because she kept being invited over, involved with outings, something clicked within her and she became the annoying little brat I've known her to be and just had to grow fond of -because it was easier than to just stay reluctant to her advances and become mad each time she'd come to me. It didn't take too long, if I'm being totally honest, to go from deeply confused vexation to an out of character giddy fondness. I've never said it. Don't really plan on doing it. Even now that I'm feeling all mellow and sappy as fuck. She doesn't need to be told from my mouth anyway. I'm pretty sure Namjoon, if he hasn't had a word about this yet, will do later. And from her ever insistence, her never flattering determination even when I, from self-admission, had been harsh or mean in the way I could have told her off, I suspect she knows, she's always known. Her dizzying smile tastes the sweetest and her annoying voice is addicting, as if dipped in a thick layer of dopamine. And I'm too weak for pretty smiles matching pretty eyes, and for brats harassing me with their affection. Therefore when she starts peeling my shirt off of me and spreading her kisses everywhere she can reach, I don't say anything even though I half-hate it. I hate feeling exposed like that when she's fully clothed and on top of me. I don't really like in general being too naked especially for her knowing what she has for me compared to what I've got for her. And she's touching me, one of her hand pressing my wrist onto the mattress and I know what it means, she doesn't want me to protest or try and touch her. I don't because I want to be good for her, for once, not be an ass and impose everything because she seems to want peculiar things today and I can do that for her. But I adore the way she's humming against my skin, smiling uncontrollably against it and sprinkling the most tender kisses. For once, I'm letting her have her way, and won't thrash and push her over to get the upper hand I prefer to hold, bear with the flush burning my cheeks and speeding my heart. It is nice to have her being so willing to take her time with me, with loving me, as if she really wants me. She's also very much hot precisely where she presses her centre to my cock and my patience, if exceptionally efficient today, has limits. "You-" I'm cut off by a strong shudder born from her tongue swiping along my jaw and the little suckle on my ear that follows. "Undress." I groan once half of my composure found back. "No." The short but firm answer triggers me, without taking a second to think, my hand, the one she hasn't been holding hostage, raises and seizes the back of her thigh meanly. "What do you mean no?" "Yoongi, listen. I think I'm tired of you bossing me around." My eyes grow wide at that. She has the acutely tiny singing edge to her voice, the one that I know well for it rings louder every time she's embarrassed or doesn't feel the most confidence. But she's standing straight and tall on her throne, pressing steadily on my crotch as she slowly explains how this will go, her way. "Now that I come to think of it-" A hard grind stealing a huff from me. "You couldn't even- you couldn't even ask me out properly! I did it! I do everything all the time and you still get to choose? That's not fair." "If I remember correctly I always make sure you come first, don't I? So how unfair is that, princess?" She pouts. Stops moving altogether. I can picture her in a second raise her arms to her chest and cross them tight there, frowning and sulking. The little girl is upset. She's adorable. I suppose she hopes to intimidate me somehow or to make me swoon enough to give in. It does the opposite though. The more she pouts, the brattier she gets, the more she tickles my fancy. And I always want more. She's all the more fun when she's feisty too. "I have something in mind, Yoongi." I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Hers lower down, condescending, unwilling to give up her position. "I want to take care of you." She says, voice quieter from her prior disdainful approach. The Adam apple seems to double in size in my throat when I try to swallow this time, struggling so much so it's audible. I think I knew. I suspected something the moment she started to stare at me with those eyes. I just thought I could get away somehow, I managed to many times before. She's pretty easy to manipulate, a firm precise press of my fingers, a hot whisper to tease her core and she'd let it go. I'm pretty weak today though and here she is saying words that set me off, reach someplace dusty and far, so far away hidden within me that it feels uncomfortable. The trigger is uncomfortable. It's scary. I don't know what it'll be. I don't know how I'll handle it. I don't know if I ever want to try. Sincerely, the greatest and easiest pleasure I've ever had to indulge in has been hers. In her pleasure and her body. Her orgasms I tasted on my tongue, the ones that hug me tight, have always been the most spectacular. "You don't need to take care of me." I need to take care of you. I'm not sure where it comes from. I've come a long way in my own personal journey, I now know I deserve more than I used to believe I did. Yet I don't, I can't imagine her being the one taking care of me. It needs to be me. I need to spoil her. "You don't like that? When someone... focuses on you?" I think about a lie or a little distractive thing to say. I choose to be frank. If there's a day to be and a moment and a person with whom to be, it must be it. "Not really." "Maybe because you're not used to it. Wouldn't you like that? Because I want to. I thought about it a lot." That's the issue with her. She owns the power. Ultimately she does. Even if she doesn't feel like it, she does. Always. Today it shows in more ways than one. She's so eager, so excited, I don't know how to disappoint her. Reluctant but kindly enough, I ask. "What did you think about?" My mouth is dry as hell. I don't understand how I can be filled with so much anxiety, still. When I feel this old and this wise, and so pleased and spoiled yet, still, terrified. It should just be heaven. I don't get why sometimes the sweetest things have to be so scary to take a bite of. She smiles to herself, satisfied to find me willing to hear her. It's a shadow of promise. I will judge later on if she'll get what she wants or not. For now, I'm just hearing her out. She's sweet and she deserves to express herself. In no time, she meets me centimetres away. She's leaned over, forearms pressing a bit on my chest to keep herself from crashing completely onto me. She's beaming through her eyes, mostly, shining intensely in the dim light as she observes my face from up close. There's the scent of her shampoo, the vanilla coconut mix that I used to be obsessed with, smelling around me even when she wasn't there. It's awfully comforting to have that too sweet smell again, for real this time, teasing my senses and waking up a lovely nostalgia. With the tips of her hair brushing slightly the bare skin of my neck, how am I supposed to refuse anything she asks me. "I realised that we've never- I've never got to- taste you." The last words are not even pronounced out loud. There's the t I read on her teeth biting slightly her pink tongue, the rest of the syllabus she just gives up on and it's for me to read on her lips. Given how obsessed I am with them, the task is not that demanding, her request couldn't be clearer to me. I should be ecstatic, shouldn't I? I'm not. I'm nervous as hell. I don't know what's wrong with me. "That's what you thought about a lot? My dick in your mouth?" She flushes bright pink but doesn't waver. She decided she's a big girl and gets to fantasise about what she wants and she won't be shamed for it, not now that's she's grown the courage to ask aloud. I chuckle humourlessly. "Princess." I can almost see her ears point out at the pet name. She seems to like it. I think I'm keeping it. "You're too pretty to have a dick in your mouth." Her face twists in the loudest mask of indignation and revolt. Straightening her back again to stand tall over me, she looks down on me under her severe set of frown eyebrows. "What does that even-" Her hand falls flat on my chest, meeting the skin hard enough for a sharp slapping sound to resonate in the quiet room. "Yoongi! It doesn't make anyone any less pretty to- what are you even saying? How can you- Why are you diverting? You're always diverting-" She raises her hands to the sky in pure bewilderment. Her face is still contorted in anguish though, I can tell she's not done arguing about this. "I'm telling you I want you in my mouth and you- what do you say to me?" I can't really hold back the cackling laughter erupting straight from my bosom. She's startled by it, upset still but unsure of how serious I am and for some reason, when she stares at me laughing, the tiny shadow of a smile colours the corner of her mouth. The tempting beautiful thing suddenly appears only a few centimetres from my face. She looks down on me with all the seriousness she can gather, eyes squinted tight. "Are you serious, Yoongi? Do you really not like that?" How honest should I be? The ever same existential question. How honest can I be? "Because you- like everything else and I thought you liked going down on me but- do you not like receiving?" Because my own personal question is loud, louder than the soft whisper of her voice, and so much more pressing because finding the answer seems to be more essential, it'd answer her questions and a lot more, the ones she may have but never dare ask. I hope to find the answer or at least a hint of it in her eyes. I don't know any other more evident places where to look for it. My quiet gaze shuts her off a little, I see how she doesn't physically back away but there is something in her eyes wavering and suddenly she looks kind of sad. She might just be disappointed but the effect is immediate, I feel my heart cracks. "I just," I raise for a second just to find some courage on her mouth. "I'm better at giving, it's all. I feel weird just sitting here and taking, it's just weird." It's just hard. "But it's the very principle of Lo-" She cuts herself off before she finishes but too late for me not to make out the last syllable. "Of what?" I ask, a growing crooked grin teasing. I allow myself that because I know that I can't get her there. She might even be more scared than I am. That's funny how I find ease in teasing her in those places yet I know that if we really do get there and start being serious about it, or if she'd dare tease me back, I'd lose my shit. I can hardly handle her calling my name in a whine as if she needs me so much she can't handle me not being a constant part of her. "Do you really not like that? Like not want it?" She asks, eyes boring in mine, looking all serious and grave. I can't disappoint her when she looks at me like that. I don't want to. "I don't want to do anything you wouldn't want or like but-" Gently, the pad of my thumb caresses her soft cheek. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve her. I'm pretty sure there's been a mistake somewhere, an error in the matrix. While I'm not bad, I'm quite good as a person, I'm persuaded that pretty girls with hearts that gentle can't be for me. I can't even tell her how beautiful she is. "Actually no buts. Just, do you want it or not?" How could I say no? When she asks so nicely, so many times to and of course, she looks the way she does. I might be a huge hypocrite. Turning this into her using her charms to get what she wants rather than me accepting to be selfish because it's easier that way. Nonetheless, it's almost reluctantly, with a fat lump in my throat that I let out a tiny, "'Kay." She leans over, eyebrows high. "Was it a yes?" I hum, rolling my eyes a bit. I'm feeling embarrassed, too embarrassed, and she's bouncing on my cock like it's the most exciting news she's heard all year -which might actually be given the circumstances.

It's nice but confusing.

Does she like me that much or is she just really into giving heads? Suddenly I have flashbacks of all those times she got on her knees to fetch something from a low hanging shelf, or under the coffee table. I just thought, innocently, that she had no sense of adulthood and she didn't realise, that once adults are grown they don't get on their knees like children, looking up to you talking like it's not weird at all. Like it's not suggestive at all. Like if I were just to ask nicely she'd probably say yes and I'd be the opening of a pants' fly away from sitting comfortably on her tongue. I can't lie and say that I've never thought about it. Evidently. I have. Probably each and every time she's done that little supposedly innocent thing, and then, a few other times in between. She's giddy when she leans even further, sliding off to the side of my lips when she tries to smooch them. She's even giddier when she crawls down my body, hoping to the side so that she can start unfastening my belt and jeans. She's giddy but quiet when she starts pulling my pants off of me. She's feeling timid, I can read it on her cheeks, but she can't possibly be as much as I am. I don't think I've ever had her undress me like that, in the open, when the light is too bright for comfort and her eyes so focused on me. Now that I come to think of it, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been naked with her. And it's never been like that. With her not fucked out enough to not pay so much attention. With her eyes roaming over me, and every now and then glimpses to my face, gaze smiling and tender. The gaze doesn't leave me as her tiny hand tentatively reaches for my covered shaft. It still remains there, attached, for the longest time, while her fingers pressingly roam over it. I twitch under the touch, heart pounding harder, full of anticipation and anxiety. "Don't drag this shit forever." Maybe I could be nicer. Maybe I could show more patience -if I hadn't been so challenged all evening, I'd probably have some left but clearly, I don't. Maybe I could be less of an ass, I could precisely be the sweet, lovely boyfriend she deserves when she's moments and centimetres away from swallowing me down her throat. Probably I should make more efforts. Or learn how and when to make them. I'm probably not the most practical right now. Being rough when I should be sweet and sweet when she needs me to push her a bit. "But I wanna take my time." She says that with a smile on her pink lips, not vexed at all. And here she proves once again that maybe I don't know shit about her and women in general. Because when I feel like she should get offended or at least aggravated, she just takes me in and finds something that she likes in my insufferable self. I simply bite on my lip, pensive. Doesn't say much to her but she sees it and translates it a way that fits me well. A lazy blink later, I have the ghost of a new kiss on the corner of my mouth and then her lips tightly wrapped around my tip, concealing the fresh breeze of air that her undressing me completely brought. It's undefinable, the sensation of her hot wetness wrapped around me. She doesn't waste a second, visibly having changed her mind about taking her time, trying to have me as far as she can. Bobbing her head and sucking me in with so much enthusiasm, I have red flushing my cheeks when I hear the sounds that she makes, wondering if I seem as desperate, as voluntary, as messy when I do eat her cunt - and the rash comes directly from the blatant, easy answer: a big fat yes. Of course, it would feel that good. When her pussy feels like some Heaven, naturally her mouth would have me like that. In no time, my cock is rock hard and balls tight and ready to blow. It's been months since I've felt this good and even then, I didn't have that treatment. Having someone and her, at that, giving so much of herself, I see the way she tries to catch back some air, frowning because I'm pretty sure her jaw is hurting a bit, jerking me off fast to compensate the lack of warmth and her pretty, pretty eyes, smiling at me, doing the most. My thighs are tensing, my right leg keeps jerking upward uncontrollably, fists holding tight onto the sheets, overwhelmed. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this. And maybe I'm going to doubt the universe placing this stupid princess on my way even more now that I've had her been so good to me, by just being herself, especially given that she's turned out to be an expert and a passionate at sucking my cock. "Fuck" Here goes my tip hitting the back of her throat again. And her hands, soft and encouraging, playing with my balls, pad of her thumb pressing sometimes between my perineum. "S-stop, I need to-" "You'll fuck me later, come in my mouth." She demands, breathlessly, diving back in before I even get to protest. "You can't say shit like that." I whiningly stutter, she's brought fucking tears to my eyes. I see blurry as I stare at the ceiling, vainly trying to hold back my climax. It makes her chuckle a bit, hum something I can't possibly understand with her mouth full and bells ringing in my ears, all I capture is the vibration it sends to my whole shaft, tickling along my spine, making me bent it embarrassingly. "Really wan'you to come-" She mumbles, lips making out with my tip in the process. "Then swallow me down." It comes out before I plan on it, before I mean to say it, through gritted teeth. She slides down my length, taking me in, like my every word is her command. The unexpected rush of pleasure, like an electric shock, seizes my hand which jumps to her head and decides to stay there, fingers fighting against the very weak remain of my brain cells to grab and clench and tear the head of hair they laid on. It's when I meet the back one more time and she decides to swallow down just then that I reach it, spilling down her throat, growling aloud without meaning too, spurring few words I probably wouldn't say to her if my mind wasn't so cloudy. I'm somewhere else. Body empty of any tension and I realize that a blowjob is exactly all I needed all those months. I haven't felt this relaxed and satiated and satisfied in so long, I feel dizzy and a bit lost. Even my own bed feels foreign, maybe it's just because she's on it. Smiling down on me with her small fingers painting shape on my skin and her pretty smile kissing my chest. She kisses her way up, leaving a path of warm sprouts, takes her time right on my drumming heart, smooches my cheeks with a tiny giggle that blooms probably from the red dots I assume are on them. She looks down on me, eyes sparkly and lips stuck in an upward curve. I see her hesitating. She's unsure of something I don't get because she just blew my mind off. My fingers knead gently the flesh of her thighs, inviting her to speak if there's something she needs to say. Her soft finger presses on my lips and she raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if I can kiss you..." "Why?" I ask, probably a bit too abruptly because I'm stupid right now and I don't understand under what circumstances she couldn't press her mouth to mine. She rolls her eyes evidently, scoffs and finally points at my crotch then her mouth, flushed all over her cheeks, when she sees me still struggling to understand. "Course you can. You always can." She shrugs, eyes fleeing away. I kiss her hard on the mouth, the hand buried in her hair pressing her further onto me. I consider vaguely how gross she might believe me to be when really, I'm just a bit too whipped for her and cum, no matter if it's mine or hers and shockingly enough I realise anyone else's too, I don't fucking care, any of her kisses are kisses that I want to consume. I roll her over on the bed and kiss her harder, licking and sucking her tongue until she's just wide eyes glinting up to me. "You can always kiss me." She nods, swollen lips tilting up. She doesn't find me too gross, it seems. Good. "And thanks." One kiss. "Was really nice." She tries to bite back her grin but fails, tittering even as I pinch lightly the side of her waist. "Was it nice for you?" I kiss the side of her jaw, smiling against her as I continue, purring close to her ear, "Just like you imagined?" I can feel her frustration before she even expresses it by raising a fist ready to punch me. It makes me chuckle. That's what she deserves for putting me in this situation anyway. I can't be the only one embarrassed, especially when I made an effort to content her -even if to content her was to content me but it doesn't matter. When my hand slides so naturally down her stomach, fingers strumming teasingly along the hem of her pants, the nagging and the arguing should be postponed for now. "You're an-" I slide easily under her clothes, palm cupping perfectly her cunt, it cuts her off. She gasps, eyes growing wide as they stare off at the ceiling, biting on her lip. "I'm what?" "Nothing." She grunts between tight jaws, both mad and horny and that's just too funny. I'm enjoying this immensely, torturing her kindly, while my fingers dip in her soaked heat, with her lips centimetres away so that I can kiss them as much as I want. She responds to all of my kisses. Tense her neck every time I part away for a second to take a look at what I'm doing, at her overall form, her laying in my bed with her twitching legs parting to give me more access. "I'm nothing? That's mean." "Yoongi, not now." I catch the curse she doesn't spit in my face before she gets to swallow it back down. The prospect that things should be cleared out now and that this will happen again, and again, and again until the day she decides she's tired of me drives me wild with excitement. It means I'll get to push her buttons and piss her off enough she'll curse at me the way she rarely ever does Taehyung when he's reaching her very limits of patience. Maybe I'm a bit gross, at least a bit freaky, if the idea of her mad beyond herself, calling me names yet simultaneously letting me play with her body like that turns me on so much. "When if not now, princess?" She pulsates around my fingers at that. It has to be the name. How lovely. How adorable. So adorable I can't help but grin giddily, effectively hiding my face in the crook of her neck so she doesn't catch me when I do. "You're so close already." "Shut up." "All worked up just from having my cock in your mouth." She groans, closes her eyes tight as if she's trying to focus all her attention on my fingers fucking her. "So easy to please, I'm a lucky bastard, am I not?" I keep mumbling next to her ear because I don't care what she pretends, I know she loves hearing me and I can bet with great confidence on what she loves to hear me say. "Having a girlfriend like you-" "Oh my Go- Yoongi-" "Come for your man." So easy to please. I know I'm not reaching the spot she likes best because her fucking pants are in the way. I've learned that the stretching is something she enjoys thoroughly and from how tense and on edge she got herself, my three fingers are doing wonders, dragging the ring along with every thrust. But I'm sure, I know, what's triggering her. She's too much like me. Probably worse than me. So desperate to feel the love, and here she is, coming around my fingers but mainly around my words when I'm just calling her mine. It takes her ages to come back to her senses, to stop desperately drinking my love straight from my mouth, and for her sweet cunt to stop kissing the tip of my fingers and let me slip them out. She's fucked out when she's back. Hair I barely touched all over the fucking place, eyelids heavy, mouth red and swollen, eyebrows low and eyes wet the way they get when the pleasure is so good she becomes a bit too soft and sensible and sometimes a tear or two escape. I get to clean her up a bit, rearranged her clothes and then realise that she's actually spending the night with me so I might as well get her pants off, throw my own pants away and put some shorts on, turn off the lights, and catch her in the most comfortable spooning session I've personally ever had before I feel her alert and with me entirely. "You okay?" She nods her head, blinking a few times more than necessary when she watches me raise my fingers to my mouth and mechanically lick them clean. In a whisper, after too long of laying quietly in the dark -apart from the angry stomping going on in the hallway along with mumbled curses that can only come from Seokjin and that we both decide to ignore- she timidly asks, "So we're dating, Min Yoongi?" "We've always been dating, dumbass." Which is not exactly true, not exactly false. To me, anyway, if she'd ever come to decide that the whole thing was just a fling then, it would have been just that. But I'm pretty sure she's always liked me as much as I have and even if I never expressed it clearly, I don't just fuck around like that. Especially with girls as sweet as her. And I don't really get that words define what we are anyway. Nothing changes now that I've said that. Maybe she's happier with the situation and that's all I want therefore I can give them to her, but honestly, yeah, to me we've always been each other's. "You're an asshole." "I'm your asshole." I don't know if she can hear my grin but the exasperated sigh suggests she does. "That's- gross." She still kisses my cheek and then my chest, huddling to my side, humming to herself when my arms wrapped around her squeeze a little harder. She's warm and soft and all mine, and when the realisation hits, that just a few hours ago she was infinitely far away from me, and now she's here in my arms, in my bed, (kind of) officially just mine to please and enjoy, my heart swells. That's all I've needed.

A/N: Guess what, it’s one of my new year resolutions to STOP taking a break from writing and this blog. *clown*

I hope it wasn’t too bad, too stiff. I meant to give this couple a nice ending because I got attached to them as quite a lot of you have. Hopefully, you’re not disappointed and sorry if it was so angsty but I guess, my heart felt a bit heavy writing it. SOZ

I'm already working on another story I’m really excited about and inspired for. I’ll try to have it release very soon.

If you’ve come this far, THANK YOU immensely. I LOVE you.

I hope all of you and your loved ones are doing fine. My best wishes for this new year. Let’s meet here more often.

#ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts scenario #my writing

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

7 Minutes in Heaven (Jaehyun x you) 🔞

Okay this is suggestive and not suitable for under 18 readers, so please continue only if you’re going to bear the consequences. No it’s not super smuty, it’s just not a good thing to copy :)

Warning : don’t kiss random strangers, don’t drink, don’t smoke, wrap up or you’re skipping a nine month bloody day :”)... Jungwoo is your bestfriend, Shy!Jaehyun and you’re bold enough to try new things...

anyways this has been in my laptop for a while, wanted to post it on Halloween but didn’t finish it back then... soooo embrace yourself for a new journey of how it might be like to play 7 minutes in heaven with Jaehyun

here goes my (suggestive) fanfic... hope this won’t make you cringe

________________________________________________________________

“So…you're saying the boys think I am a pure innocent girl?” You scoff and laugh upon the remark Jungwoo just said.

“Well they don't believe me when I said you're totally different outside campus.” The man with blue hair bashfully looks around the canteen.

You pick up your fork and continue poking in chicken chunks to your small mouth, “And why are you telling this exactly?”

Jungwoo deadpan looks at you and leans closer, “Why don't you proof them wrong? They've labeled you as the boring mechanical engineering girl!”

He slams the table a bit dramatically, to which you shudder.

“Easy… you'll break the table! Well sorry, but they're not totally wrong. I'm a regular mechanical engineering girl, boring, studying all the time, nerd, and just never coming to parties!” you give him a dry chuckle.

“Look this is not the true you! I've known you since high school! I know how crazy the boys were whenever you pass by! I'll be honest there were like 5 hot guys who had crush on you in high school, just that sorry I told them you're not allowed to date yet.” Jungwoo trails off and feels a bit guilty when he finally spills the beans he has been hiding.

Your eyes fly open and your mouth too, you drop your spoon and grunt, “Say that again… you cock-blocked me?!”

Jungwoo closes his eyes and inhales a deep breath, “I'm saving your future! I just don’t want them to you know use you and throw you away…”

You hit the spoon to the metal tray, and it made a good “BANG"

“Surprise surprise you told me this after like I don’t know five years maybe. You made the men who liked me back away before even trying to reach me out! Jungwoo all my life I thought I was the one with problem?! I thought no one likes nerds like me; when I myself believe I am a fun girl!” your rage bubbles up from within.

You feel like crying, all these times you thought you were imperfect, you were never a crush for men, you've dealt with your insecurities. You overcome dark times when you see your friends walking through the hallway, having the spotlight on them. You thought you can never be that just because you're an A-grade-student. You did have Jungwoo standing by your side through high school, and he's a good friend who you cannot see as a man.

Your friendship with Jungwoo is indeed a beneficial one, since both of you love science and calculations. You have a study friend and voila you both made it to you best engineering school!

Just as you thought campus life will be lit, since you can “reset" your image, be the fun student on weekend, and study well on weekdays.

But no. You’re overworked with the tasks and quizzes, and to ensure your scholarship is still there, you need a minimum of 3.0 in GPA and that means you’re saying goodbye to parties and hello to enough sleep.

You're mad now when you think of it. Jungwoo has been a cock-block since grade 10 and maybe until today when he finally realized what he had done.

You massage your temple and look in disgust at your unfinished food.

You push your chair back and stand up, “I am mad at you. I don't feel like eating. Good bye Jungwoo..”

“WAIT! i'm sorry I know I was a jerk… but please let me fix it… give me a chance..” he begs you

Your mind is set already, and you shake your head, “I can fix it by myself. So long” you wave and quickly run to the bathroom.

There you let out your emotion in one of the locked toilets and you pull yourself back when you figure a way out to proof them wrong.

You're not the typical book-worm boring mechanical student. You’re you and that will blow the house on fire tonight.

You wash your face in the sink and pamper up yourself from the messy state. You're a fan of make up and you've always had natural looks over your pretty face.

Quickly you draw back your mascara and eye liners, one smack of lip gloss and you're smiling all the way to your next class. Writing.

Johnny greets you in front of the lecture class, he tells you about the upcoming party Lucas will hold this Saturday and Johnny suggests you come and see what it feels like to have some relaxation and fun. He knows midterm has just ended and he is sure you don't have lies to excuse yourself from the invitation.

“Great guess I can make it. Need that fun nights you know. Any theme?”

“Oh, it'll be a costume party since it’s Halloween.” Johnny explains.

You smirk already having lots of ideas in your mind. “Okay see you there then!”

“Nice! Dress up nicely, it's a competition!”

You give him two thumbs up.

“Sooo what are you going to wear?” Jungwoo finally gets to talk to you after trying so hard to win your forgiveness.

“I am not going as your couple okay.. I’m going simple this time. I don't want to try too hard.” You smile remembering how you're always prepared for costume parties.

“Let me see, I’ve won Bonnie and Clyde costume… last year we showed up as marry Poppins. Now I just want to enjoy the party.” You plop into your bed and stretch. The party is tomorrow night and Jungwoo is staying over tonight because he needs to finish his costume.

“What? Tell me…” he asks while sticking his props to you don't really know what costume is he going with.

“see me tomorrow okay…”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes when he sees what you appear with tomorrow.

“Seriously?! You’re keeping it a secret. Just to come to the party dressed as a Ravenclaw student!”

You turn around to final check your appearance. Well coming as a Ravenclaw is what you want today.

Jungwoo is by your side ready in his F1 racer costume.

Everything as fun and cool you're having a blast when you see Jungwoo's frats brothers. One man caught your attention when he looks so cute in his Slytherin costume. Your eyes dilate when he flashes a smile to another person, but you caught the smile.

“Whew that is hot.” You whisper to yourself and keep your eyes on him. You never hear Jungwoo talking about him, but seeing him seated nicely between Doyoung and Taeyong, you knew he belongs in that frats. Doyoung and Taeyong are the boys from your music class and they're your best friend.

“hey (y/n)!! Come! We’re playing spin the bottle!” Johnny calls you over to join the table full of 23 men and several girls lounging over the empty seat.

You bring yourself to the seat next to Jungwoo and you're face to face with the cute slytherin boy.

You fix your skirt and calmly cross your legs while watching the man's reaction across you. He was caught watching you but when your eyes met, he quickly averts his gaze away and drinks his cup.

The game starts and you're drowned in alcohols. Well when they ask you stupid personal questions, you're shy to answer, you choose to drink.

Jungwoo keeps on telling you to stop, “Hey enough! You downed three shots .. too fast girl.” He holds your hand before you chug another shot.

Johnny sends a smug look, “Hey Jungwoo why don't you be her dark horse? If you think she drank too much, take a double shot.”

Jungwoo is not the best alcohol drinker and he needs to make sure you got home safe, before he can open his mouth a deep voice makes the whole room move their head to face him.

“I'll take her shots.” The Slytherin boy downs two cups like they were nothing and you catch his ears turning red.

“Thank you…” your voice trails off.

“It's Jaehyun,” he winks.

You pop your lips, “Yeah Jae, thanks!”

The room cheers and starts throwing cat calls to the two of you. You remain calm while deep inside your heart you're dying to squeal and bury your face. Jaehyun on the other side is also turning red, but his sweet smile is still there.

The bottle spins again and this time it points to Jaehyun and he chooses dare.

“Okay Okay this is gonna be fun!!” Mark claps his hands after him and Johnny whisper about the plan.

“Jae, you and the person across you go in that closet and do the 7 minutes in heaven thing… or drink” Johnny clicks his tongue. The room cheers and you can see it's you they meant ..

“Across me?” Jaehyun rubs his neck slowly, he somehow feels shy around you.

“Yeah (y/n)!” Doyoung punches his shoulder, “I'm doing it if I were you"

Taeyong claps his hands and pushes Jaehyun to stand up.

“Just do it!” someone else is also pushing you, it was Lucas.

You did not object and just shrug your shoulder.

Without further ado, you and Jaehyun are forced into the small closet.

They close the door and gosh you hear a click.

It’s dark inside, but somehow there’s a good air circulation at least you two won’t die out of breath.

You can’t really see him, but with the small lights penetrating through the space, you swear your heart is beating super fast. He looks ethereal.

“You good? Sorry they did this to you.” Jaehyun starts the conversation.

You let out a small chuckle, “No..it's fine. I'm okay… I’m not claustrophobic nor afraid of the dark.”

He laughs nervously, “Nice, me too.”

“Thanks for taking my shot earlier.” You try to break the thin air.

“No problem,” he fidgets with his fingers.

“So… are you gonna kiss me or we're keeping this safe?” you slap yourself for saying that out loud. Jaehyun swears he thank the darkness that his burning red face is hidden.

He chokes and coughs, you quickly apologize “Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. Look, I thought you were the kind of guys who will just be straight forward and keep things casual.”

Jaehyun laughs, his laugh sounds sweet you almost melt.

“And I thought you're a shy quiet innocent girl.” He licks his lips. Well he's fast in reading the atmosphere and he knows if the time is right, he'll get that lips he has been eyeing since you entered the room.

You feel your cheek warming, “Ah.. yeah sorry Maybe you don’t see me interesting. I'm just the boring-"

“no. You're not. Girl you're not what people say.”Jaehyun cuts your sentence.

His hands cup your cheeks, “You're brave and oh I am the shyest boy here and I just like girls like you.” He blurts it out.

You feel your heart clench, really a handsome man like him who can win every girl's heart with one smile and wink… is a shy boy?

“You're telling me... you're a shy boy.. even when you can win the girls with one wink and a smile.”

He blushes, “Well… did I win your heart like that??”

You sigh, “Actually you won my heart with the Slytherin coat and you did toss me a smile. My heart somersault when you took my shots.”

He chuckles, “Can I make a confession?”

You nod, “Sure, what happens here stays here.”

He leans closer and whispers, “I've never kissed a girl before and you too look cute little Ravenclaw.”

Your eyes linger to his plump wet lips, you bite yours. Oh gosh you were also a virgin! You've never kissed anyone, but you're going to break that image, right? Tonight, Is the right time you guess.

“May I?” you ask. Fuck the stereotype girls can also start kisses.

Jaehyun did not reply anything instead he brings his hand to cup your face and with one hand in your chin he leans in to mold his lips into yours.

You feel electricity running in your body and your mind is full of stars. Your stomach is doing things and oh you regret not kissing him sooner. His lips indeed taste good and the way he holds your neck is enough to make you squirm.

You open your mouth and his tongue slips in. You're loud. You swear anyone could hear the two of you making out. But his soft touch and his slow head movement makes you crave more.

He almost pulls back thinking you don't want this, but you're faster. You push yourself to him more and run your fingers to his hair. You play with his hair according to how your body tingles by his kiss.

He pulls back to take a short breathing and you smile when the two of you just lean on the walls and take in as much air as you can. Jaehyun feels like crawling into a hole, he just had an intense first kiss with you, the girl he secretly put interest in for the last six months.

“Was I good?” he glances to you.

You smirk, “If this is what I’ll get every time we kiss, I’m addicted already.”

He scoots closer and in that small room, he manages to pull you up on his lap. You chuckle but follow his game.

“Can I taste that soft cherry again?” he whispers hoarsely, and you shudder. Hey, weren’t you going to show how not innocent you are but why are you so pliant and shy under this Shy Slytherin boy?

You peck his lips, “I'm afraid our seven minutes timer is up.”

He brings his hands to your waist, “No one is opening the door yet for us. Might as well seize the opportunity.”

You chuckle, “Good at bargaining huh?” and you lean in for another hot make out session.

“So… can we two be a thing?” he asks with his wet swollen lips.

You put your hands on his shoulder “I don't know. Can a Ravenclaw date a Slytherin?”

He laughs at your obsession of Harry Potter. “I don’t know. Should we test it?”

You bend your neck and hide it on his neck. Inhaling a quick whiff of his musk cologne.

“Well I don’t see anything wrong in trying..”

“I wish I could see your face now. Because right now.. my face is burning… “

“I can feel your heartbeat Honey,” you giggle as you plant your palm over his fast heartbeat.

“Slow down or you'll get a heart attack.” You rub his shoulder blades

“It's getting hot here or is it just me?” he fans his hand

You knock your hand to the door and yell, “Hey guys it's been more than seven minutes! We need air.”

You hear someone shuffle to the door and unlocks it.

You did not move from his lap, you wait til that person is out and when you hear no one else is in the room, you kick the door opens.

Lights come into your peripherals and you quickly close the big room's door.

Jaehyun tosses you a questioning look

You shrug your shoulder, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest place when one turns on the lights.”

“Such a fanatic here!” he picks you up and pushes you to the wall. You can see his starry eyes now under the lights and oh gosh they were so pretty.

You can see his deep dimple showing whenever he gives you a side smile and your hands find their way to cup his face.

Like casted by the love potion you bend your neck to kiss him. His lips is an addiction and you're blaming the alcohol for whatever happens afterward.

“I guess you're going home alone Woo,” Lucas said when he passed by the locked room and his face turns red upon hearing the sinful noises.

Jungwoo chugs down another drink, “Let her, she's big enough to take care of herself.”

“And why are you not bringing her to parties sooner? I thought she was the regular boring student.” Haechan was jealous of Jaehyun. Hell, he found you super intriguing too.

Jungwoo smirks, “Told you she’s not like the others.”

Lucas pats his shoulder, “And you're not the one getting laid. Be patient okay…”

Jungwoo laughs out loud, “Hell no, we're bestie since long time. I can’t see her as a woman. We’re good. Jae can have her.”

Jaehyun looks hot without his coat and after climbing down the high. The best one you two ever had. You were laying down on the big mattress staring to the ceiling and catching breaths with Jaehyun beside you.

“Do you think Jungwoo will hate me?” Jaehyun picks out a cigarette box he found in the closet earlier.

You shake your head, “He'll be happy I got laid finally.”

Jaehyun huffs a cloud of smoke, you ask him “you think the boys will think of me as less? Like maybe they see me as the same cheap sl-"

Jaehyun presses a finger over your lips “No. They don't and won't. They are not that type of men. They respect women's choices. In contrast, I’m sure if they hear our story, they’ll be jealous.”

A small smile comes to your lips, the naughty side of yours is awake. “Oh yeah? Then try it. Tell them about us and see if they're jealous.”

Jaehyun offers you the stick of cigarette, you're not a new smoker. Actually, you smoke sometimes to relax, you smoke a special herbal one… and this is one of it.

“Whaoh you're not a newbie?” he sounds surprised when you did not cough after taking the first smoke.

“I did sometimes the herbal ones.” You blow a cloud of smoke.

“Funny how we have a lot in common, but we just know one another tonight.”

You smile, “in seven minutes actually.”

He hugs you from the side, “Yeah the best seven minutes in heaven.”

*op hides in the corner* end

how is it??? aaaa I guess it’s soo bad :”)

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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 3 years

Text

Fool For You (4/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader

Warning: Cursing

A/N: Final part of a request for @mynameisliterallycash!

As soon as you were out of the cabin, you started sobbing. Raw, painful cries fell from your lungs and throat, wracking your body. You felt empty and dejected; utterly pathetic, crying like a lost little kid with nowhere to run. You were too miserable to even feel the bitter cold of the rain. At least no one would be able to tell you were crying. Your sprint eventually died down into a slow walk. You were in no hurry to get anywhere. You weren’t ready to go back to Ambrose just to face more humiliation from Bo. God, you felt so stupid. You just wanted to curl up and let the rain wash you to some other place.

Just as your sobs subsided to quiet hiccups, you heard the roar of tires along the road accompanied by the honk of an all too familiar horn. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t. You were determined to keep walking. You saw Lester’s truck pull up from the corner of your eye, slowing to match your pace.

“Y/N, will ya please get in the truck?” Lester called to you from his window.

“Go away, Lester.” You said, continuing forward while your heart pounded painfully against your chest, “I just want to be alone, okay.”

“You’re gonna catch your death out there! Please just get in and talk to me!” he tried to reason. You didn’t respond this time, “Fine, then, don’t talk, just let me drive ya the rest of the way. I’ll do all the talkin’.”

“I don’t want to hear it right now!” You said, desperate to get away and escape the consequence of your confession, “I know we have to talk eventually, but I’m just not ready right now, okay! So, leave me be, please, Lester! Just go!”

“Ya know there ain’t no way in Hell I’m gonna just leave ya.” Lester said, offended at even the suggestion of abandoning you.

After a few more feet of following next to you, Lester pulled over and got out of the truck. You hear his footsteps quickly approach behind you. He caught up to you, taking a step in front of you and blocking your path, holding up his hands defensively.

“Please, Y/N, just hear me out. I wanna explain some things, if you’ll let me. I know ya don’t want nothin’ to do with me right now, and I got no right askin’, but I got a lot I gotta say, and I’d really like for ya to hear it. After that, ya can do whatever ya want. I promise I won’t stop ya.”

The frantic, pleading look in those eyes you loved so much drew you to comply. You glanced back at the truck and then at Lester. With a heavy sigh, you turned started toward the truck. Lester opened the door for you and helped you up before sliding in next to you.

He took the jacket he had on the seat beside him and wrapped it around you. He rubbed up and down your arms, doing his best to dry you off and warm you up to ease your shaking. You were now very aware of how cold you were. He looked you over, making sure you weren’t hurt any worse than he could see.

“Ya okay?” Lester asked carefully, brushing away the hair that stuck to your face; relieved you didn’t pull away this time.

“I’m tired, Lester.” You answered honestly, “I’m so tired of these feelings. I’d been waiting and hoping to tell you all about this someday, but now that I have, I just feel like an idiot. I think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself today, so whatever you’ve got to say, please just say it.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Lester said looking at you, hoping you’d return his gaze, “I must be the dumbest guy alive to not get what ya was tryin’ to tell me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault if you don’t like me.” You told him, throwing him a half-hearted smile, as bitter as it felt.

“Now, hold on a minute,” Lester said in an even voice, “I never said that.”

Your eyes widened at his words, dangerous hope started bubbling in your heart again. You turned to face him completely, hanging on everything he was about to tell you.

“All the nice things ya been doin’ for me: the huggin’, the treats, all the extra time ya spent with me, were cause ya love me?” Lester asked, looking to you to reaffirm his understanding. You nod. “I’m still tryin’ to get it through my head is all.”

“I know I dropped a lot on you. I’m sorry about that.” You said, finding more patience at the sincerity in Lester’s realization unfolding before you.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ever makin’ ya any less than happy. I didn’t mean to make ya feel like ya didn’t matter to me. Cause that just ain’t true! Far from it. And I never ever wanted to make ya cry. Don’t think I’ll ever quite forgive myself for that since you’re the last person I wanna hurt.” Lester told you, shaking his head at his previous ignorance. He looked back up, straight into your soul, “Y/N, I love ya too. Much more than a friend. And I know now I shoulda told ya a long time ago, but ya mean more to me than anythin’ in the whole world.”

“What?” you asked, practically short circuiting. Your mind went blank and your heart stopped in place, stalling your breath in your lungs. That’s all you ever wanted. Tears of joy pooled in your eyes as a hopeful smile took over your features, “You love me?”

“Are ya kiddin’? The sun rises and falls with ya, far as I’m concerned.” Lester told you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He beamed at you, with his famous toothy grin lighting up his face at your reaction. He hesitantly reached out to cup your cheek in his hand, taking your melting into his touch as permission to keep it there and stroke your soft skin, “I’ve loved ya since day one, and I’m gonna keep lovin’ ya til the day they dress me for my coffin.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you asked

“Hell no. I thought I was the last man you’d ever love, and I wasn’t lookin’ to get my heart broke.” Lester said with a remorseful chuckle, “Never thought you’d see anythin’ in me worth carin’ ‘bout. Course ya see the beauty in everyone, so shouldn’t’ve ever doubted ya.”

“You’re right. You should never doubt me,” you teased, “But I understand. It’s not like I was very forthright or mature about any of this, either.”

“I won’t make that mistake again, believe me. I just thought all those things ya been doin’ for me was cause you’re naturally so sweet anyway.” He explained.

“Guess we should have had a little more faith each other.” You said, somehow able to laugh at the situation, burying your face in Lester’s shoulder, clinging to his arm once more, “We’ve been wasting all this time wallowing in self-defeat before we ever even tried.”

“Ya know, the funny thing is that I’ve loved bein’ your friend so much that even if that was all God or whoever granted me, I’d die a happy man.” Lester admitted, “Ya just seemed so out of my reach, that when Bo told me ya had a crush on me, I figured he was just havin’ a go at me so I’d embarrass myself in front of you.”

“Bo told you I like you?” you asked, a little pissed that he had been meddling in your romantic affairs. But you should’ve guessed, knowing Bo.

“Well, yeah, but he also convinced me that girls lay eggs right ‘fore they start bleedin’ every month, when I was a little kid. So, he don’t always tell me the truth.” Lester recounted, rubbing at his neck, embarrassed that he ever bought such a bogus story, “Got caught checkin’ the toilets at school for eggs once. I really got an earful from the principal for that. Confused the hell outta the folks when they heard.”

“You what?” you responded, unable to contain your laughter. You both burst into a seemingly endless fit of laughter. All the pain and sadness from just moments ago had dissipated, and you were left with faces that hurt from smiling too much and cramps from laughing too hard.

When you were finally able to collect yourselves, you and Lester simply looked at one another, dreamy smiles taking over both of you. He had your hand in his once again, playing with your fingers as he spoke,

“I should tell ya, I nearly choked on my guts when we met. I saw ya and that smile of yours stopped me in my tracks. And, lord, your laugh could bring a man to his knees. Felt like I got the wind knocked outta me the first time I heard it.” Lester told you, reliving the very moment in his memory as he said it out loud. “S’pose that’s why I always try so hard to keep ya laughin’.”

“Well there’s no one I’d rather laugh til I cry with.” You said, bringing your other hand to encompass his, “Besides, you’re the best at making me laugh, doesn’t seem like you have to try at all.”

“Good, I’ve got ya fooled, then.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a fool, alright.” You told him, affection and fondness at the forefront of your every thought. Lester felt giddy at your words, turning the lightest shade of pink as he rubbed his neck again. Emotion shone through his captivating earthy eyes, finally showing you all that he never allowed himself to feel before. Longing grew across his stare, echoing the same look running wild in yours.

“Uh, ya know, earlier, when ya kissed me back there? I know it don’t seem like it, but that kiss damn near set me on fire.” Lester confessed, his voice in a hushed voice “And I know I’d give anythin’ for a little more.”

“Les–”

“I know I ain’t anythin’ to write home ‘bout. I ain’t smart and handsome like Bo, or artsy like Vincent, and I certainly don’t got much money. I can’t give you nothin’ ‘cept me and this rickety heart ya got beatin’ a mile a minute. But I’m ‘fraid it’s the best I can do.” He told you, with a guilty smile, trying his best to fight through the feelings of inadequacy that had run rampant in his system for so many years.

“Listen to me, Lester,” you started as you took his face in your hands, so you knew he would hear you, “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are, because that’s who I fell in love with. You are everything I ever dreamed about or wanted out of love. I love you as you are.”

Lester felt tears welling in his eyes this time. That’s all he’d ever wanted to hear all his life, and it meant everything coming from you.

“I think I’m the real fool between the two of us,” Lester said, “But if you’ll still have me, I’d like to make up for everythin’ I missed; and take all the time I got left in the world and give it to ya.”

“I’ll have you as long as you’ll do the same for me.” You answered with a tearful smile, absolute joy taking full control now. You leaned your forehead against Lester’s, caressing his cheeks, “I don’t want to waste another day without you.”

“Well, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Lester promised. His beautiful brown eyes almost glimmered to emphasize the heartfelt nature of his oath. He stared at you for just a moment, wanting to memorize every single part of this moment between you. He could think of only one more thing to ask of you, “Would it be alright if I kissed ya?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” you told him, nuzzling your nose against his with a smile that sent his heart skipping all the way to Mississippi.

He took you into his arms, drawing you closer to him with your hands still cradling his face. He caught your lips in a firm kiss, steady and careful, yet still brimming with passion and all the affection he had to offer. Your two hearts were beating in time with one another, falling into a familiar rhythm known only to you and Lester.

When you both pulled back, you were out of breath in the best way. This was so much better than anything out of your dreams.

“I love ya, Y/N.” Lester told you once more. You would never grow tired of hearing him say that.

“I love you too, Lester.” You responded, tenderly. Lester leaned in again, kissing your cheek before sitting back up in the driver’s seat. With one hand on the wheel, he kept his other arm wrapped around you, drawing you to his side like he’d been doing it all his life. He kissed you once more on top of the head, right after he started the engine.

“Let’s go home.” Lester said, never more satisfied.

The rumble of the road beneath the tires was now a comfort to you, as it brought with it the unique familiarity and intimacy that came with knowing Lester. You rested you head against his shoulder, cherishing every bit of what you used to miss.

As you started your journey back home, you couldn’t help but notice the storm clouds had finally given way to the brilliant shades of the sunset; painting your world in a thousand hues of pink and orange. You glanced up at Lester once again, both of you glowing with the light of a brand new love of your own. Good thing you got out of bed. If you hadn’t, you might never have lived to see a view as perfect as the one from where you were seated.

You closed your eyes, smiling as you pictured the road ahead. Good or bad – it didn’t matter to you either way. Life had never seemed more beautiful. You could hardly wait.

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #Female reader #House of Wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #slasher imagine #My writing #request #tw: cursing #fool for you

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

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a different type of high (spencer reid/reader)pt 2

Title: A Different Type of High (part two)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst

Content Warning: swearing, talks about drugs and the usage of drugs, drug use (oxycodone), drug abuse (oxycodone and dilaudid), attending narcotics anonymous, smoking (cigarettes), drug withdrawal, mentions of possible death (but no actual death),

Word Count: 3378

Summary: reader and spencer have become best buddies after attending NA together. Reader goes to a meeting and panics when she doesn’t see Spencer there. Worried that he might have done something wrong, she calls him in a panic.

A/N: this takes place in late-ish season two early-season three when spencer is going to the NA meetings. spencer was 26 around this time, reader is about 22 :) anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist! and here is a mood board/pintrest board i made for the series!

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{***}{***}{***}

I tugged my sweater tight around my body as I walked towards the community center. I stayed a fair distance away from the doors as people entered. There were way too many people entering at once for me to go in now. The way the small crowd entered the building, with a few stragglers behind, only made me a little nervous.

It was… chilly out today. The last of the warm days were behind us now as we were heading into Winter. That would mean I’d have to find a way to and from the community center and home sooner rather than later. I wonder if Spencer would help me…

“Hey!” A woman’s voice came from beside me as I neared the doors. I looked up from the ground and looked at her. Marie, who practically became my mother after my mom died, was standing at the doorway. “You walked here?” she asked as I entered the building.

“I don’t exactly have a car, Marie, you know that,” I shrugged as I buttoned my sweater up.

“As long as you’re here, that’s all that matters,” she smiled and wrapped an arm around my body. Part of me wanted to shrug her off me, but another part of me welcomed the embrace. “Go eat something, you’re skin and bones,” she rubbed her hands up and down my arms, as if she was warming me up.

“I do eat, okay. You don’t need-Is that Shephard’s Pie?” I cut myself off when a familiar smell hit my nose. She looked at me and smiled.

“Go eat something,” she winked before leaving me alone. I sighed and looked around the room, looking at all the people around. And just like before, people were standing around and talking to each other, or sitting down. Only a few people were eating what was made. The times when people who work for the community center make food were my favorite days. Granted, they only do it once a month, very rarely was it twice a month. The food they make is always so good.

So, with that knowledge, I walked to where they were serving the food and got myself a plate. I didn’t exactly know where to sit, mostly because I didn’t want to sit beside a bunch of strangers and eat. Actually, I didn’t want to be around anyone while I ate. That left me going to the hall where the bathrooms were to eat.

I could tell tonight was going to be different. Something about the feeling of everyone was… Off? I’m not really sure how to explain it. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, and everyone else was with someone or talking to someone. And, I was just me, sitting in the hall to the bathrooms, poking at my Shephard’s Pie.

When I finally finished eating (I took my sweet time), I brought my plate back to the kitchen. The people around were sitting in their respective chairs, waiting for the group to start. I looked around at everyone one last time before I realized something… Spencer wasn’t here.

Now, I know Spencer is a busy guy with whatever it was that he did for work. And, I know I’ve only known him for a few short weeks, if not a month. But I couldn’t help but allow my mind to wander and race to the scary thoughts that I shouldn’t have. Like, what if he made a mistake… What if he was sitting in the bathroom at his home, overdosing? Shit, shit… Shit. Or, what if he already did overdose and it’s too late. It’s bad that I allow myself to think those thoughts. I really shouldn’t.

I’m not obsessed with Spencer. Okay? He’s just the only person who’s cared about me in a long time. And, he’s the only person (and thing) I’ve cared about since… Well, since I was 15. Of course, I’m worried about him.

I swallowed roughly as I looked over at Jacob, who was sitting away from the circle, reading over some papers (probably what he was going to say during today’s meeting). He’ll know where Spencer went. I mean, Jacob knows everything about everyone here. He’s gotta know where he is.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater so my hands were pulled inside them. I looked at the ground as I walked over to Jacob. My heart was beating so hard in my chest it was actually scaring me. I shouldn’t be this scared.

I cleared my throat when I got to Jacob. He slowly lifted his head from the folder and looked at me. Glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, and his eyes were peaking from over the frame.

“Hey, happy to see you here,” he smiled as he closed the folder and placed it to the chair beside him, “What’s up? Did you eat?” he asked, looking around me to the table of food.

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” I nodded and looked back at the ground, “Uhm… Is Spencer coming tonight? He’s usually pretty punctual to meetings… And, he’s not here. I’m just… I’m scared he might have done something,” I whispered, keeping my voice low just in case other people were listening.

“Oh, no. Spencer’s not coming tonight. He had a work trip that he had to go on. He’ll be back next week,” Jacob smiled at me. I looked back up at him, keeping my eyes on his face.

“Do you… Do you have his phone number?” I looked away from him again, worried that I’d be doing the wrong thing or invading his life. “I do believe you, Jacob. I just…” I wiped my eyes because I didn’t realize I had started crying.

“Yeah, yeah, no I understand.” Jacob fumbled his pockets for his phone before finally pulling it out. “He might not answer. So you should wait till after tonight’s meeting to call.” he looked up at me as he wrote Spencer’s number on a slip of paper. “I’ll let him know you have his number,” he smiled as he handed over the paper. I nodded before taking the paper from him and pocketing it.

“Thanks, Jacob… I appreciate it,” I whispered before turning to go find a seat. I kept my head low as I sat, not really wanting anyone to look at me. I could still feel tears rolling down my cheeks, and at this point, I didn’t know why I was crying. I think it was just the overwhelming emotions that I was feeling in general. My emotions are just too much for me and I guess this is where I’m left off.

Jacob was standing up in the circle this time, doing the greeting and welcoming everyone to the meeting. I always hated that part. Where he acts like no one is actually here, dying off coke, or oxy, or meth. But, what can I say? He’s just trying to make a good time out of a shitty situation.

I was snapped back to reality when Jacob said my name, repeatedly. I looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go first,” he offered. I looked at him and shook my head.

“Why do you always have me first?” I whispered, mildly annoyed that he always wants me to go first to share life over the last week. “I mean, I’m a month clean if that’s what you want to hear. I have my struggles.” I sighed and looked at him.

“Do you want to expand on those struggles?” He started. I bit my lips together before shrugging.

“Last week, uh, I had a bad week. And, I guess… I have some stuff leftover. Like, hidden away. I just really wanted to not feel anything.” I looked at my lap and shook my head. “I have a friend, though. He’s helping me with my struggles and stuff. I wish I could help him as much as he helps me though,” I sighed and looked back at Jacob. “It’s really hard, not taking whatever to get high to just not exist for a short time,” I explained. I wasn’t sure if it made sense to anyone, but it made enough sense to me. And that’s all that mattered, that I knew what I meant.

“But you’re working through those struggles, and that’s a good thing. Having a support system is really important. So, your friend that you have is really good.” Jacob smiled and nodded. I stared at him before slowly nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. It is a good thing. I’ve never had a support system like him before. He’s right alongside me.” I whispered. I never really thought of Spencer as my support system. It’s true though, he is. Even if I wasn’t his. “Someone else should share,” I muttered. I made sure my tone was annoyed, just so Jacob would know to stop having me be the first to share.

{***}{***}{***}

After the meeting ended, I walked to the laundromat that was a block or two from my apartment. They had a payphone there that I’d be able to use, which is nice because I didn’t have a cell phone or home phone to use. I’ve done it before, using the laundromat’s payphone.

I knew I had some change stuffed into the pockets of my sweater. I just hope no one would be in the laundromat. Well, it was late so I don’t expect people to be doing their laundry now. Unless it was someone who didn’t want to be seen during the day, like me.

A shiver shot through my body as I entered the building. I was happy to see that there was only one person here, and it looked like they were almost done doing their load. I glanced at them as I walked to the 3 pay-phones. I sat right at the second one, my hands jingling the change in my pockets. I pulled out four quarters and the paper with Spencer’s number. My eyes scanned the numbers that had Jacob’s sloppy handwriting on it.

I picked the phone up off the hook before dialing the number. I stared at the numbers on the pad as I held the phone to my head.

“This is Spencer R-” I slammed the phone back on the hook before he could say anymore. I stared at the phone with wide eyes. My hands were shaky and I could feel my head starting to get a little dizzy. It was just the nerves, anxiety, and everything of the day hitting me all at once. I stared at the phone. I pulled all the change from my pockets and placed it on the counter. 4 quarters, which means two more calls. I swallowed roughly before dialing his number again.

“This is…” “Hi Spencer, it’s me,” I bit my lips together and closed my eyes. I pressed my free hand to my face and shook my head. “I, uh… Sorry if this was inappropriate or anything. I just… I asked Jacob for your number… And, I missed you today, sorry if that’s weird,” I blabbed, my words trailing off.

“Hey! No, no it’s okay!” Spencer spoke. His tone was happy, like whatever it was that he was doing made him happy. “Sorry I didn’t come tonight. I had work stuff happening.” He explained. So, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Yeah, that’s what Jacob had said.” I retorted and shrugged.

“But you didn’t believe him, did you?” Spencer asked, a certain amusement in his tone. I held back my laughter and nodded.

“Well, I told him I believed him. But I didn’t really believe him,” I rested my face in my hand and leaned against the counter. “A work trip?” I asked, changing the subject back to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice got low, like he tried to not be heard by whoever he was with, “Probably won’t be home till the end of next week, though,” he sounded sad.

“So, you won’t be home for the next meeting?” I frowned and tried to make it so he could hear my frown. Assuming he did because he started laughing. “God, I fucking hate Jacob, I swear,” I sighed and shook my head.

“You know, at first I didn’t understand why you hated him… But I’m starting to understand why,” he laughed. I smiled and looked around the laundromat. The previous person was gone, leaving me alone. I was happy about that. I didn’t want people listening in on my conversation. Man, it’d be awkward if he worked for the FBI or something where someone is always listening.

“He always makes me go first to share, it’s getting annoying,” I scoffed and shook my head. “Like, is it because I’m the youngest one there? Because I’ve been attending for so long?” I shook my head again because of my annoyance.

“Maybe you’ll have to ask him. Could be because you’re young,” Spencer answered. On his side of the call, I could hear papers shuffling.

“God, that’s annoying,” I scoffed, “How was your week?” I smiled, asking the question that is usually first answered in group. Spencer cackled, not just a laugh but a cackle.

“It was good. Uh, work whisked me away and I wasn’t expecting it. But, here we are.” Spencer sighed. The image I had of him in my head right now was nice. He was just sitting at a desk, coffee in front of him while he read whatever papers he needed. Wait… “What about you? What phone number is this?”

“Oh… Uh, I’m at the laundromat down the street from my apartment… I don’t have a phone,” I bit my lips together and sighed, “Uhm, but my week was meh. I mean, like… Last week was pretty rough… Not gonna lie,” I rubbed my face and shook my head, “Uh, yeah, it was just. I don’t even know why it was a rough week.”

“You didn-”

“No, no, I wanted to though,” I slouched in the chair and shook my head. “It was really hard not going to my stash… And just taking whatever I had.” I shrugged.

“One minute remaining,” an automated female voice spoke. I widened my eyes and fumbled for quarters.

“Shit,” I muttered, nearly dropping them back to the counter. I also nearly dropped the phone too.

“Is… Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, legitimate worry in his words. I sighed once I finally inserted the quarters into the machine.

“Yeah, yeah. Yep, uh… I don’t use payphones, let alone actual phones, often. And I never have quarters on me for these things,” I shook my head in annoyance. “Sorry if I scared you,” I cringed.

“It’s okay.” He replied. I sighed and shook my head. “Now that you have my number, you won’t hesitate to call me, will you?” the worry was back in his voice as he spoke. It kinda scared me how much he worried about me. I’ve never had someone worry about me like this before. What if I disappointed him? Or he disappointed me? I’m used to being a disappointment and getting disappointed. So, what’s it going to do if I get disappointed one more time?

“It’ll depend on the time of day and where I am… If I’m able to get to the laundromat, then sure. But if I’m not near a payphone or if I don’t have quarters, I probably won’t,” I answered.

“Time of day doesn’t matter. I never sleep anyway. And I assume you never sleep either,” he pointed out the obvious. I laughed and nodded.

“Okay, time of day is no worry. Then, it’ll depend on if I have quarters for the machine,” I pointed out.

“I’ll figure something out for you then,” Spencer stated. I smiled again and nodded. “What time is it?”

“Almost 10… I had to walk to the community center, and then back here.” I sighed.

“You should go to bed,” Spencer spoke firmly. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

“You’re not my real dad,” I feigned a playful disappointment in my tone. That made Spencer laugh. “I thought you died… When you weren’t at group… My mind kinda wandered and I had thoughts that weren’t the greatest,” I wrinkled my nose. My stomach sank and my body hurt slightly at the thoughts and memories of all the previous thoughts I had of earlier today.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, like he knew I was visibly upset. The kindness he had in his voice made me feel better. “If I have you in my life, I can guarantee that I won’t die,” he had a small chuckle in his tone. I smiled.

“Accountability buddies?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The smile that was growing on my lips was probably too happy for us to be talking about death and drugs. It was Spencer’s turn to be laughing.

“Okay, okay, accountability buddies,” he agreed, his tone being as happy as my smile was.

“You know that stupid step? The one about a greater power or whatever?” I asked, tapping my fingers across the counter. Spencer laughed.

“You mean Step Two ‘We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.’ or Steps Five through Seven?” He asked, his tone somewhat cheery. I laughed and shook my head.

“Honestly, all of them,” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.

“What about them?”

“What if I don’t believe in a higher power or God?” I asked. I lifted my hand and looked at my fingers around the phone cord. And with that question, Spencer hummed. I wished he got to answer the question.

“One minute remaining,” the automated voice was back, causing me to frown because I knew our time on the phone would be over soon. I really didn’t want it to be. Spencer was someone I could trust, and he knew that. He was even a better distraction to stop me from doing anything stupid.

“Get some sleep?” Spencer asked, his tone only slightly begging. I smiled and nodded. “Okay, if you nodded, I can’t see you.”

“I’ll get some sleep. I promise,” I sighed, even though I knew it was a lie. I mean, I know Spencer isn’t going to sleep either.

“How many quarters do you have?”

“On me, 4. I’m sure I have more in my apartment,” I sat up in the chair and nodded, “I’ll call you if I need you, Spencer. Thank you for letting me call you,” I wrinkled my nose.

“Of course. I’d rather have you call me instea-”

“You’ll be home next week?” I asked, cutting him off. He didn’t really need to say anything further, I knew exactly what he was going to say.

“That’s the plan. Could be sooner.” He answered, sounding upset with his own answer. “I’ll take you to get coffee when I get back?” he offered, like that’d make me happy. Okay, yeah it worked. It did make me happy.

“Coffee?” I asked, raising an eyebrow because I wasn’t sure if he actually offered to get me coffee. “Y-yeah, coffee. That sounds good,” I nodded. I’ve never gotten coffee before.

“I’ll see you then. Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, Spencer,” I smiled before placing the phone back on the receiver. I sat back in the seat and looked at the machine. My eyes then shifted down to the quarters on the countertop. I really wanted to keep talking to him, mostly because I liked talking to him. And, if he was so willing to talk to me, I’ll do it anytime.

I stared at the payphone for a moment before finally standing up. I slipped the last of my quarters and paper back into my pockets before leaving. By the time I finally got back outside, it was cold, colder than before I called Spencer. I suppose that’s what I get for wanting to make a call late at night.

When I got to my apartment, I couldn’t feel my fingers or my toes. I didn’t want to take a shower, because I really didn’t want to get cold again after the shower. So, I just slumped my way to my bedroom, not like that’ll make me any warmer.

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seaweedbrain404 · 3 years

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Wolfstar Au!: Hot and Cold (pt 2 of Parties and Morning Regrets)

@icitlali asked if there was a second part and um- yeah i wrote this, there may be more parts to come

pt 1

pt3

read it on ao3

Remus thought inviting Sirius up was the right thing to do which is the only reason he did. He dared to let himself hope but he didn’t really want to see Sirius. Still, Remus had manners and it was so cold outside that his own fingers were turning purple. Leaving Sirius out in the cold and making him probably walk home seemed too mean, even for Remus. Although, he thought Sirius definitely deserved it.

He followed Sirius up to the flat, Lily looked more than surprised when she saw Sirius come in and gave Remus another look. It was one of those looks that Remus didn’t like getting, the we’re-going-to-talk-about-this-later kind of look. He shrugged it off, too preoccupied with his bloody hip.

“Remus, did you really walk all the way here?” Lily crossed her arms over her chest as Remus closed the door behind them.

“Yeah, so what” He replied through gritted teeth. “I’m going for a shower to wash off the smell of stale alcohol”

“You’re going to be the death of me one day, Remus Lupin” Lily’s voice called to his retreating back. “Sirius, how are you?”

Remus heard vague small talk as he navigated his way to his bedroom. The pain in his hip wasn’t unbearable exactly. It was just bad enough for it to consume all his thoughts. All he needed was a warm bath, some painkillers and to limit his movements for the rest of the day. Easy. Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait until later though seeing as it would probably be rude to soak in the tub while having a guest over.

Showering after a night out was always a pleasant experience. He emerged from the shower just a couple minutes later with damp hair, a stolen pair of Lily’s yoga pants and a clean jumper.

“Ah, here’s the idiot who has no regard for his health” Lily smiled as Remus walked into the kitchen. “Are those mine?”

“Maybe, painkillers please?” He walked across the room and leaned his chin on Lily’s shoulder.

Sirius watched the interaction between the two with some hint of longing in his eyes. Remus wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he had never been so casually touchy with anyone but now him and Lily were even closer than they were in school.

Lily wrapped an arm around his waist, rubbing circles on his hip. “Sirius, there’s a small pill bottle in the cupboard just there-“ she pointed to the right above her head “-would you mind grabbing it please?”

Sirius blinked for a moment, seemingly frozen at the sight of them. Then, he nodded. “Yeah- yeah, I got it”

He passed Lily the retrieved painkillers without looking at them. Lily hummed gratefully in return, easing Remus, who had hid his face in the crook of her neck, off her. He leaned back against the counter and Lily switched the kettle on.

“I promised Mrs Pettigrew from next door that I’d pick up her groceries today” Lily turned to Remus, glancing at Sirius, “and do a bit of cleaning for her since her grandson is out of town, do you think you’ll manage?”

“Yeah” Remus breathed out. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay”

Lily pursed her lips and looked to Sirius again. “Make sure he stays home, yeah?”

Remus made a noise of protest as Sirius nodded, “I doubt he’ll want to listen to me”

“Lily, I can take care of myself”

“Hardly, you’re in a right state after being without me for a few hours” She scolded, “If you strain yourself any more then you’re going to really fuck up your hip”

“I can’t fuck up something that’s already fucked, can I?”

“I mean it, take it easy and don’t be an idiot”

“Alright, fine”

“And I want to talk to you later”

Remus paled a little at that, despite fully seeing it coming. He made a noncommittal sound and Lily, satisfied with herself, left the room to layer up on clothes and help the nice old lady who lived across the hall.

There was a tense moment when she left. The kettle went off and Remus poured himself a cup, then paused. “Tea?”

“Sure”

Sirius seemed more relaxed now that Lily had gone. It was as if he had been on best behavior when she was there and now he didn’t have to be. Remus couldn’t really blame him, Lily could be very scary sometimes and she was always unreasonably overprotective of Remus. In all fairness, he felt the same way towards her.

So Remus poured two cups of tea and then added milk and sugar accordingly. He had assumed that Sirius took his tea the way he did back in school and he was only a little ashamed he still knew what the other man liked in his tea off the top of his head.

“Am I allowed to ask about the accident?” Sirius picked up his cup and took a sip.

“Why do you want to know?” Remus retorted, taking a painkiller.

“Lily wouldn’t tell me… and I’m…. worried” Sirius looked embarrassed to admit it but he did admit it which was good enough for Remus. It showed some sort of growth, some kind of potential.

“Depends on whether you’re going to pity me or not because frankly, I don’t care much for it”

“Jesus, you don’t have to be so snappy”

Remus scowled at him, not saying another word. He didn’t care about being snappy in that particular moment. His hip hurt like hell, he could feel his leg slowly going as well and whenever he told people anything about the accident they all treated him like a fragile porcelain doll.

Sirius cleared his throat before speaking again. “I won’t pity you, if you don’t want me to”

“What do you want to know?” Remus asked, disregarding what Sirius had said.

“What happened?”

“I worked at this publishing place, had a late night so I took a cab home” Remus began, even thinking about that night made his heart race and his eyes sting. “Someone was driving under the influence and hit us- the cab, I mean.. and it was really bad but they put these screws and plates all in my side, shoulder down to my shin”

Remus paused a moment, wiping his eyes on the back of his palm. Sirius made to touch him but he jerked away, a little too fast and hissed in pain. Sirius retreated his hand, looking crestfallen.

“Anyway, I had to quit the job cause it was too far to walk and I refused to get in any type of car or bus or really any type vehicle since then” Remus rushed the end of the story, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight.

Sirius took a step forward and this time Remus allowed him to. He carefully opened his arms and slowly wrapped them around Remus, giving him more than enough time to move if he didn’t want this.

Remus, however, was just exhausted. He collapsed right into Sirius’ arms which tightened around him. The bad thing was, he was still shaking, his lungs refused to take in air and oh, there was the whole thing about just falling into his ex-boyfriend’s arms. Good thing was, he felt safe.

Then he started crying, his own arms wrapping around Sirius’ waist while his arms were around Remus’ back. He was pretty sure the only reason he still remained standing was Sirius’ strength forged by years of playing rugby. Remus wanted to kick himself, everything about this situation was just so pathetic and he hated it. He hated himself for it.

Sirius, meanwhile, said nothing and just rubbed circles on the taller man’s back. “I’m sorry, I’ve been horrible to you and now you’re literally comforting me, maybe I am the asshole”

“Nah, I kind of deserved it”

“Yeah you did”

“Hey! you’re not supposed to say that”

“But it’s the truth”

“Shut up”

Remus let himself laugh quietly. He was mortified by this display of vulnerability and dearly wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Then he made a feeble attempt at pushing Sirius away, nearly toppling over himself. He had to grip the counter behind him to stop himself from hitting the floor. Sirius made to catch him but Remus swatted his hand away.

“I think you should go”

“But I promised Li-“

“I’m tired and she’ll be back soon”

Lie. Remus knew that Lily would be gone for at least two more hours, maybe more if Mrs Pettigrew offered biscuits.

“Then I’ll just stay till she comes back, she really worries about you” Sirius shrugged like it was final and Remus didn’t want to talk about it so he slowly hobbled to the living room.

“Do you-“

“No”

Sirius started asking but Remus snapped at him before he could finish his question.

“Sorry” Sirius mumbled, hands up in surrender. Remus could feel eyes on his back as he managed to get to the couch. He switched on the telly, laying on the side of his body that hurt the least.

Remus figured that if Sirius didn’t leave, then maybe he could ignore him to the point of leaving. Unfortunately it didn’t work because this was Sirius so instead of sitting on the chair near the couch or even on the floor, he stood at Remus’ head. Hands were gesturing for Remus to sit up but he ignored them.

“Remus, squish over a minute”

With a groan, he turned onto his back and sat up. Sirius slid into the open space and Remus turned so that his feet were at Sirius’ lap instead of his head. He wasn’t sure how his body would react if Sirius started gently twirling strands of his hair and admiring them as if they were made of gold.

Remus closed his eyes, feeling fingers tracing shapes on his exposed ankles.

Suddenly Sirius spoke. “You and Lily have gotten really close”

His eyes shot open, a little startled by the tone. He wasn’t sure how long he was out but he definitely slept at least twenty minutes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was groggy with sleep, the side of his mouth damp from drool

“It’s weird, I’ve never seen you so much as hug anyone”

Remus wiped the side of his mouth. “People are allowed to change and Lily is my best friend”

“It’s just- you’ve changed so much and I’m struggling to keep up” Sirius’ tone was strange, the most un-Sirius thing Remus had ever experienced him do since they met.

Remus’ eyebrows knit together, a frown now playing on his face. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know… besides, I don’t have to change according to your terms”

“I never said that” Sirius spat.

Remus sat up in response, leaning back on his elbows. “Then why are you constantly bitching about how much I’ve changed?”

“Because you have! It’s like you’re this whole new person and I don’t even know you”

“I haven’t spoken to you since we were 17, that was 6 years ago and you expect me not to change?” Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I went to college, I got in a horrendous car accident Sirius, do you really expect me to be the same person I was when we were teenagers?”

“No- it’s just, I don’t like change”

“Fucking hell Sirius, the world doesn’t care and guess what? that’s constantly changing too”

“Yeah but not as drastically as you! You work in a bakery for Christ’s sake when I know you always wanted to be a writer”

“And I know you vowed to never work for your parents and here you are, doing daddy’s dirty work no doubt”

“Remus”

“What”

“You were never this cruel”

“No, I suppose not”

The two sat in silence, and it took all of Remus’ willpower not to kiss him.

“Can we just be friends or something” Sirius looked sincere enough, good natured enough for Remus to want it.

“Something? Something like wh-“

But Remus never got to finish his sentence because suddenly Sirius’ knees were straddling his hips and they were kissing.

What the fuck!

Remus wanted to scream, he was tired and annoyed and now he didn’t know what to feel. He pushed Sirius away for a second time that day, both their breaths coming in uneven.

“No” Remus breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly.

“No?”

“Yes, no… I can’t… what were you thinking?”

Sirius looked both hurt and surprised but Remus wasn’t concerned about that, he was more confused than anything and also there was the almost unbearable pain in his hip.

“I- well you were being cruel and this is the only way I knew how to shut you up effectively”

Now it was Remus’ turn to look hurt, he pushed Sirius again with more force than before. He brought his head back down and refused to say another word.

“Remus”

Nothing.

“Remus”

He shut his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep again.

“I’m sorry”

“Remus, I’m really sorry”

“I know I shouldn’t have said that”

“I did want to kiss you, I also wanted you to stop being mean”

“Come on Moony”

Remus’ eyes shot open at the childhood nickname. “Leave me alone Sirius, I’m tired and sore”

“Are you cross?”

“With you?”

Sirius hummed in response.

“Yeah but mainly cause I’m tired”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

“Just stop talking”

Sirius did just that. Remus felt bad though, he very carefully and hesitantly moved again so that his head was on Sirius’ lap. “I’m sorry for being a dick” he whispered, eyes closing again.

“I’m sorry for not thinking before I speak” came Sirius’ soft reply.

Remus felt Sirius’ fingers move through his hair tentatively as if he was uncertain whether or not this was allowed. “No, I’m being a moody git, all hot and cold on you”

“I couldn’t blame you for it”

“Well you should”

Sirius didn’t reply and Remus remained on the side that didn’t hurt him, facing away from Sirius and towards the telly.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #the mauraders #modern marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fic #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #lily evans #okay but i love writing lily and remus’ friendship so much #they remind me of me and my best friend

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marigold-doms · 3 years

Text

mystic destiny || choi san ||

[ ep. 2 ] >> [ ep. 3 ] >> [ ep. 4 ]

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Written by: MIKA🌻

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: just cocky Yeosang

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

|| Ep. 3 || Doll

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Sadly, you find yourself being honest. Slowly shaking your tired head. “You can’t be my boyfriend, San.”

“Why?” His voice was softer than a whisper.

Your eyes close and you can’t open them any longer. “I have no choice but to be with someone I don’t know.”

“Be with me.” He innocently offers. “You know me.”

You manage a weak smile with your eyes closed. “If only it were that simple.”

Before you hear anything else, you slip from consciousness. Falling fast asleep for almost the whole day.

***************************

The warmth of the sun’s beams welcome you from your slumber as they seep in through your blinds. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve slept, since your body aches to cuddle deeper into the comforter. From the position you were laying in, it was so tempting to close your eyes and rest for longer. After all, sleep sort of became your new best friend over the past few months.

Slowly but surely, you begin to recall the day before, taking your time to fully wake yourself up. Remembering everything takes a while but when you do, you shoot up and scan your room. On your bed you see two pearls. One large marble sized pearl and a tiny miniature version.

You pick up the two pearls and drop them into a mason jar of some coins and missing earring sets.

“San?”

There’s a moment of silence before you hear heavy feet slapping the floor. “(Y/n),” You liked hearing how he said your name. “Sleepy one said that you need to eat. It’s almost sunset.”

You nod. Not sure if he’s been awake long. “Did you sleep okay?”

He pulls you by your sweatshirt. “Brush your teeth. Humans have to brush their teeth. Especially you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, glancing into the hallway. Knowing that the last part was Mace’s manipulation.

You start brushing your teeth, still a little groggy. “Did you brush your teeth?”

San nods, proudly. “Yes. I brushed my teeth.”

You pause, wrist stopping as well. You try not to swallow toothpaste when you ask. “With what?”

“You’re holding it.”

********************

Macy’s on the phone with her boyfriend when you come out to eat after yelling at San for using your toothbrush.

“Okay, Woo.” Macy sets down her plate, making sure to flash you a smile when she sees your tired face. “Bye.”

“Good morning.” You wave, gingerly.

“It’s almost dinner time…” Macy mutes herself to speak to you.

“Oh. Guess, I was tired.”

The call ends and she pulls up a chair. “Sit. We have to talk before I go on my date.”

You hated when she used this tone of voice with you. “Am I in trouble?”

San has settled in his seat and he starts bringing food up to his lips. Curiously chewing and smiling when the flavor suits his taste.

“No, but I feel like house rules are a must…”

You remember what you told Macy last night. Of course, it wasn't the full truth. You told her you had a near death experience— and that San saved you.

“I’m not sure how long you’re planning on keeping him here with us y/n but I hope you know that I can’t be responsible for him.”

San’s eyes flit up at the two of you before he smiles and continues eating.

You nod. “Yes, He’ll sleep in my room for as long as he stays.”

Macy lifts a knowing brow. Nothing motherly but in a sense that you could read her thoughts. ��Remember, You already have a man.”

Again, you’re aware of your situation. You’ve gotten over the shock of coming back to life. You had to face the reality again. Macy was gracious enough to open up her condo to you in order to at least give you some freedoms. Granted she could only do so much as your cousin, her allowing you to live under the same roof was a blessing and an escape. But to add another head into the living arrangement might be pushing it.

“As if I can change anything. I owe San. He did save my life.”

Your savior chews with his mouth open. “Would’ve been unfortunate if I didn’t...”

Mace’s face was almost comical because of the way her eyebrows knit into confusion. You regret not giving her all the details but maybe it was better to spare her.

“Okay well, Woo is waiting for me downstairs so I’ll be back.” She goes into her room to grab something then comes back out. “I might be back…”

After waving a quick bye to your cousin, she shuts the door behind her. Which leaves you and San alone in the condo. He sits across from you, still wearing Wooyoung’s clothing. The sleeves are nice and snug against his toned arms. He shovels a big bit into his mouth before relishing in the taste. “I forgot how good human food was. Do you always eat food like this?”

You don’t reply. Out of habit, your mind begins to queue a playlist of things to overthink. Mind heavy with complaints and sufferings of your pitiful, privileged life. When Macy wasn’t around it was harder to avoid these thoughts. Sure, growing up financially wealthy came with perks that could get you brownie points with anyone you decided to associate with. But it hurt to grow up with people and parents that only gave a damn about social status and political wealth.

Your life wasn’t even yours to simply choose and move freely in anyway. Despite being a grown woman, that stupid contract with the prime minister’s family, chained you down to give you no choice but to obey. The amount of shame that your family would burden you with if you didn’t would be insurmountable.

“Y/n?” San’s voice brings you back out of your head.

“Yes, San?” You find yourself blushing when he smiles at you for making eye contact with him.

“I’ve been wondering,” He presses his lips together before finishing his sentence. “What can I do to make you happy today?”

“Huh?”

“I look at you and I feel happy. I know it’s because meeting you made me human again but,” San’s unending transparency is a breath of fresh air to you. “You don’t smile often. I want to make you smile.”

To smile? Being Happy? Was that something you could even ask for?

The Following Day

“I can’t believe it…” You paced the doctor’s office. “You’re saying I don’t have it?”

“That’s what the results are telling us, Miss y/l/n… Of course, We could run more tests just to be sure. There’s just no trace of cancer anywhere. Miraculous is the only way I can describe it.”

On the way out of the hospital you weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream for joy. Your feelings were already conflicted considering you still thought that it was almost unfair for you to be alive. With San here, you’re undeniably doubting that you are the best person to help him relive a human life either.

One problem starts stumbling into the next when you arrive home.

“Y/n! A random human man is intruding!” San runs into you in the hallway and his look of panic forces you to push past him to see what’s wrong.

You stop at the door. San is still moving around behind you and making incoherent sounds at the man standing in the living room of your apartment.

“What are you doing here?”

The man stares at you bewildered. “What’s another man doing here?”

“Y/n instructed me to guard the condo!” San turns to you after pointing at the man. “I got a strange feeling in my stomach, y/n. Tell him to leave.”

You sigh, choosing to ignore San’s disposition. “Is today the day?”

“You know him?” San questions. Earning a small nod from you.

“You forgot?” The man questions, flicking his light hair from his eyes. “I was going to bail but considering my business is on the line because of this marriage agreement, I had no choice.”

This day couldn’t possibly get any more inconvenient.

“You couldn’t find another smart excuse?”

“Unfortunately,” He smiles at you with a glare in his eyes— you never understood how he did that. His eyes flicker to San before he continues speaking. “I couldn’t keep myself away from you any longer.”

[ Y e o s a n g ‘ s P . O . V . ]

How was this possible?

I thought I got rid of him?

He died in the lake, didn’t he?

This man in front of him couldn’t possibly be him. But judging by his tone of voice and the fact that he looks exactly the same as he remembered him… It was San. Clueless and unaware undoubtedly. But it was San.

How dare he survive after all these years.

Yeosang had made a deal with that stupid god holding a silver stop watch.

To become immortal until he found his lover again. He was sure that it was her. Y/n looked exactly like her. Smelled like her and even spoke like her. He made it sure that when she was old enough to talk that he’d make her his. She had to be his lover.

Seeing San alive and staying in the same place with her. Anger began to flood his veins, his blood simmering to a boil.

He was going to make sure that San stood no chance against him. Emotionally and physically. Even if it meant that he was going to have to make another deal.

********************

In the heavens, the God of Light is watching with a blank expression on his face as the God of Shadows smiles and laughs at the interaction of the meta-humans below.

“Isn’t it marvelous?” Hongjoong humors, fanning himself lightly. “They finally met.”

“Let’s see how it goes. I have a good feeling about this.”

“I don’t.” Yunho bites his nails, a bad habit he’s received from spending so much time in the human world.

“Why do you keep weaseling your way into the conservatory?” The God of the Shadows doesn’t even bear to look at his half brother.

“Brother.” The God of Light warns, clicking his stopwatch shut. He turns to the hybrid. “Son of Jeong Mina—“

“Yunho.”

“—Go down to earth. Your lover is waiting for you.”

“Pardon?” One and a half gods exclaim in unison.

**************

“What’s happening?” Wooyoung smiles at his princess as she finishes the conversation on the phone with y/n.

Macy sighs, frowning as she hangs up. “She’s going on a date with the Prime Minister's son.”

Wooyoung mirrors his girlfriend’s expression. “Maybe we should help her out this time.”

“We can't. They’ll be at the big engagement ball.”

“I can get us in. I am a famous dancer after all.” Wooyoung winks.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here hiding in your apartment because of your insane fans.”

Off put by the facts, Wooyoung pouts and cocks his head to the side. “What about that guy she met? The one at the condo. What’s he gonna do tonight?”

Mace’s eyes flash with an idea. “Grab your suit. We’re going.”

**************

You smooth out the dress that Yeosang’s maids laid out for you to wear. In any sense you were bound to hate what they picked. And you did. Around the room you see that it’s decorated with elegance and luxury.

“This will be your room once you move in. By the looks of it, you’ll be enjoying life with me in about a month.”

You began to tear up. Cancer should’ve saved you. You would’ve been set free. Your tears turn into harsh sobs while your shoulders shiver from the cold emotion waving over you. Everything in this cursed life has been torturous. Having no choice but to grin and bear it all. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to learn to love this man. He was older than you by at least 5 years— you didn’t have the time of day to really care. He barely knew you and you swore he acted like he’s known you for your entire life.

The 3 timid knocks on the door fool you to think it’s just one of Yeosang’s maids asking for permission to enter. Yet when the door opens, you have no time to wipe the stream of tears ruining the makeup on your face.

“Oh y/n.” The most concern you’ve ever seen on the man's face puts you off but you allow him to approach you. Turning your body away from him. “Why are you crying, Doll?”

Doll?

“Just give me a minute. This is a lot to take in.” You try to mask your emotions by making a shallow excuse. Placing your hand down on the wooden chest that you were sitting on.

Yeosang places his hands in his sharp suited pockets while he buffers to assess the situation. He places his body in front of you in efforts to close off space.

“A change in lifestyle can be scary. Trust me,” He places a gentle hand on the back of your exposed shoulder blade. “I completely understand how intimidating change can be.”

I just barely escaped life by dying and now I’m back to life with no way out. In addition to that, there’s another person’s lifestyle I have to worry about. So, I bet you don’t.

Maybe he reads your face well because you hear him sigh. “Believe it or not. I had to take a while to get used to living life in a new, scary way. After a while, I saw the beauty in it.”

“What makes you think I’ll find the beauty in being signed off to you?”

He tries to conceal the smirk that he’s already flashed you. “From-” His eyes find a place to the left of you. “...the way you would look so pretty standing next to me.”

Your head turns to where his eyes guide you. The huge gold lined mirror mounted on the wall reflected Yeosang standing tall next to you. You gaze at yourself, knowing that your outer appearance masked the horrible storm that was brewing internally. Yeosang’s deep colored orbs meet yours through the reflection. He looks so refined and elegantly poised that your bad posture was starting to embarrass you.

“You don’t think so, Doll?”

“Delusional, really. If you notice, I’m not exactly jumping into your arms in excitement. Also,” You then turn away from the reflection to face him. “Stop calling me that.”

Humor returns to his face and he lifts one side of his lips. “I don’t wanna.”

You find yourself sighing and standing up straight. “What time does this event start?”

“As soon as you and I walk down the hall and into the ballroom.”

“Can’t I just stay in here?”

“I mean, we can. I’ll just have to let everyone know that you and I will be up here the whole night. Alone.” He watches your reaction with amusement as you smooth your dress and use the back of your hand to tidy up your face.

“Lets go.”

Yeosang smiles to himself, gesturing to the dark wood door. “After you, Doll.”

You make a face and walk past him. Hoping that holding onto his arm will pull you through the rest of the night.

***********

“Pleasure to see you and your beautiful wife again Mr. y/l/n.” Yeosang takes your father’s hand into his and firmly shakes it. Your mother beams at Yeosang with sparkles in her eyes. She feels absolutely excited for her daughter to be thrown into the arms of a total stranger—“a rich one” she’d add, for moral purposes.

“Please, child. Call me mom.” The airiness in your mom’s poised voice forces you to bite the inside of your cheek. Yeosang handsomely returns a smile and you can see the blood rush to your mothers face.

As much as the pleasantries were being passed around, you hated being the center of it all. It seemed that you were the focus of all the talk but no one wanted to to consider how you felt about practically being signed off to a rich family. By the sound of all the rumors, Yeosang’s family was the most feared and influential family in the whole country. It was no surprise to the world when they suddenly revealed Yeosang as their eldest.

“You better straighten up, y/n. The whole world is watching and I will not have a child that cracks under pressure. Do not embarrass me after all the work your father and I put into your future.” It’s as if your mother switched off her grace and poise to the mask words she’s whispering into your ear by giving you a hug.

You don’t say a word but for the cameras you bring your arms up to embrace her. If you haven’t already learned by now it was second nature for you to naturally know how to keep a consistent public image. A grateful daughter of one of the most successful business companies in the capital.

Your father follows and you can’t help the swell of pain that sinks into your heart when he meets your eyes. He’s been wearing a tired expression for as long as you remember. In the past, although he was stressed from his line of work, he used to look at you with so much care and hope. Now, it’s hard to search for the compassion he used to have for you. Maybe if he wasn’t so desperate to please your mother, he’d remember his role as your father.

Your body becomes heavy. Now the idea of holding onto Yeosang for the rest of the night seemed like a nice support right about now.

Your silent prayers are answered when Yeosang offers you his arm again. “As much as I’d love to chat more with my future parents. Y/n and I should make our rounds. ” Even though Yeosang was a huge part of your problems, maybe in this moment you were happy that he had enough sense to pull you away from the disappointment that you’ve felt with your once loving parents.

A couple of hours into this dreaded engagement party, you’ve been through so many introductions that you’re sure you’ve met the entire population of the white collar heads of the family.

Yeosang senses your exhaustion. “Should be another 2 hours.”

“Oh gods help me.” You sigh, biting your lip.

“I’ll be doing some separate greetings so I hope you can manage from here, Doll.”

“I don’t need to be babysat. Go do your business things.” Your arms slips from his firm bicep and you take a step away. Choosing to sit in the back where you hopefully go unnoticed by all the big name companies.

“Just two more hours.”

Yes. Just two more.

**** **************

“May the newly engaged couple come forward and have their first drink together. Our capital’s betrothed.”

Such a Victorian tone to use in a setting so modern and classy. You gather the fabric around your finger tips and gaze at Yeosang with indifference. His deep colored eyes seem to search for something of substance with yours. The most you could give back to him was a timid curl of your lip. In a place so unfamiliar and rigid, Yeosang was your only form of stability.

“Let’s see a sweet kiss from the soon to be couple!” A random voice shouts towards the front of the room.

Yeosang plays the role of bashfulness with confidence. Yet, you’re completely uncomfortable with having to show any type of affection—much less physical touch with this man.

A shiver runs down your spine but not from Yeosang.

A voice echoes in your head and you’re sure that you know who it is but, how?

“Y/n, You don’t have to be with him.”

[ ep. 2 ] >> [ ep. 3 ] >> [ ep. 4 ]

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

The Right Moment (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Summary: Love confessions doesn't count in Spencer’s strengths. Don't you think?

Word Count: 5010.

Warnings: Curses… is so soft anyway. Fluff.

A/N: I’m so happy. This is my first fic with a beta, so y’all will not suffer with my all writing mistakes of before ones. All the love to the great @imagining-in-the-margins

——————–

The first time I saw (Y/N), I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a few seconds. I could have counted the exact time, but I was so focused on looking at her that I only realized it when I was almost choking on my own breathlessness.

We were all in the conference room waiting for Prentiss to review a new case. She had already notified us a new member would be joining the team, which was a relief considering the amount of cases was getting quite heavy. Even just one more member could be of great help. When the two of them entered the room and Emily began to speak, I lifted my head from the file in front of me.

"Guys, this is the SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is joining our team since today. (Y/N), meet the SSA Luke Alvez, SSA Tara Lewis, SSA Jennifer Jareau, SSA David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid".

Everyone gave their welcome words except me, of course, given my edginess. I just nodded my head in greeting without saying a word. She waved back and quickly sat down to begin reviewing the case.

I couldn't say exactly what was the first thing about (Y/N) that I fell in love with. Perhaps it was her appearance as a determined woman, confident, intelligent, friendly, and very nice. She looked like those kinds of people who are able to fill a room with their mere presence. It wasn't long before my hypotheses about her were confirmed. Indeed, the entire team loved her immediately. She was the first person to say hello to Penelope in the mornings. She teased Luke as she passed by his desk, and bonded quickly and closely with JJ, Tara, and Emily. Rossi loved her too, especially at dinners at his house, where (Y/N) was always the first to compliment the chef.

And me? Well, it wasn't long until we became best friends. She was one of the few people who didn't bother or interrupt my ramblings. There were many times we had to make geographical profiles and visit crime scenes together; clearly not very romantic things. But the time we spent together was growing both inside and outside work. In our rare free time, we would go for a walk or watch a series sitting on the couch at her place or mine.

Those were the moments where I felt I fell more and more in love with her. For a long time, I tried to push those thoughts away by telling myself that it was something platonic, that it was the attraction of someone with a very different personality than mine. I tried to convince myself that eventually, the infatuation would pass and our friendship would persist. But seeing how the months passed and the feeling didn’t subside, I began to sink into despair within myself. I tried not to feed myself any hope.

(Y/N) was leading her life very well and I fit perfectly as the best friend – just that. Someone to trust and a shoulder to cry on. I tried to convince myself having her around was more than enough for me, even if there was no romantic interest from her.

"Do you know what it’s called? The Friendzone." Emily said to me one day after I had to confess my feelings towards (Y/N) to someone. A somewhat forced confession, since the whole team knew it already without me saying a word. It sure was printed on all my face.

"Whatever your name it, I’ll never get out of there". I replied with a shrug.

"But why don't you tell her? You should be honest with her about this, Spencer. You’re friends. You trust each other, right?" Emily inquired, trying to awaken some courage in me to express my feelings to the woman herself.

"Tell her? No, of course not. Our relationship would become weird. I don't want that.” I replied with a shake my head.

"How do you know if isn’t mutual? You two spend a lot of time together, and I've seen how you seeing each other. Maybe she also likes you." Emily was a very good FBI agent, but not the best cupid. There was no point in what she was saying to me. Friends can also spend a lot of time together. That doesn't mean anything.

"Of course it is not reciprocal! Two days ago, she told me she had a date with Tim Robertson from Organized Crime and she was 'excited.'” I emphasized the word ‘excited’ by making the quotes marks with my fingers.

"Uh-oh" she replied with that 'oh poor boy' look. “Spencer, eventually you’ll have to do something. Love is not going to disappear spontaneously.”

I only took a deep breath and drop the subject, but I kept thinking about Prentiss’ words. Was I meant to be the eternal friend? Statistics were not on my side: Studies show that if a man over 30 invites his female friend to dinner on a weekend, only 40% of women will likely consider it a date. But if the invitation is made by a non-friend male, the odds increase to 85%. If a woman is the one inviting her male friend, she is more likely he considered it as romantic date, because men are more frequently to consider everything as a date. Conclusion: I have no chance.

I felt more defeated when (Y/N) told me one day that she was now regularly dating Robertson. The boldest thing I asked her was if she liked him. She confessed to me it was ‘very likely.’

As the weeks passed, the cases came and were resolved. (Y/N) didn't spend as much time with me outside of work anymore. She had a formal relationship with the... guy... from Organized Crime. At this point not even the 'friendzone' comforted me, because I also felt I was losing my friend. What did that lead me to? Frustration. Anger. Introversion. Everything very Spencer Reid style.

One day flying back from a case, (Y/N) sat at the front of me and looked at me with concern, as I plunged into a book.

"Spencer, is something wrong?" she asked, leaning down and resting her hands on the table between us.

"Uhm? No. I'm fine." I replied, barely looking at her.

"Spencer, I know you..."

Oh, how I hate people think I’m an open book and everyone feel free to say they know me!... Even if they are right! For God’s sake!

"Are you upset with me?... You have barely spoken to me these days and we haven't sat down to talk for a long time..." She said, taking the book I had in my hands and laying it on the table. Thus, I was forced to look at her.

"No. I'm fine. Totally fine. And if we haven't talked for a long time, it's because you're apparently very busy…” My last comment wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help it.

"Oh, I see." I took my book again and opened it to resume my reading. "You’re jealous of my relationship with Robertson." She stated seriously.

What? Did she know it too? Had the pilot been told, too?

"No. Of course not. Where do you get that from? You can do whatever you please with your life…” I said with the greatest calm that my boiling blood running in my body allowed me.

“You're jealous because I don't spend time with you outside of work anymore. Spencer, honey, you’ll always be a priority for me. It's just I have less time now, you know? We're just starting something, Tim and I. But I promise not to be one of those women glued to my partner all the time and neglecting my friends". (Y/N) ended her statement by gently stroking my hand over the book I was still holding. I felt relief and defeat at the same time. Clearly, it didn't feel better.

But (Y/N) was genuine to her word. Indeed, she looked for a way to adjust her time with him so we could return to some movie nights on the couch and occasional walks in the park. It felt good to at least fit into her life again. Of course, this had a flip side: knowing how her relationship with Tim Robertson worked, or not. The guy showed clear narcissistic features and although (Y/N) seemed to be aware of that - as the good profiler she was - her infatuation clouded her judgment. I couldn't blame her, either. I just tried to be gentle in my criticisms, but I saw how easily she dismissed them by always excusing him.

One night I was lying on the couch reading. It was close to 2 am when I heard two knocks on the door and a loud sob. I quickly got up to open the door and saw (Y/N) standing in front of me, crying. When she saw me, she threw herself into my arms and cried harder.

"I knew you would be awake..." She murmured with her head buried in my chest. I helped her into the apartment and sat her on the couch.

"Hey, what happened?". I asked in a soft voice so as not to disturb her more than she already was.

"I broke up with Tim..."

And here I was, with my shoulder ready to contain her tears. (Y/N) clung to my neck sobbing and cursing at the same time. It wasn’t the first time I had to witness a love breakup from (Y/N). As I said before, I was her best friend, and that forced me to know things that I often didn't want to hear, but it was only fair. She also was there for me many times. I had also cried on her shoulder and cursed - a bit - at situations that overwhelmed me.

I tried to comfort her by hugging and stroking her back. The sobs subsided over time, and eventually she fell asleep. I tucked some pillows under her head and covered with a blanket. I sat for a moment to watch her while she slept. I would have done anything not to see her this sad. She didn't deserve to be hurt by an idiot like Robertson. She deserved someone who truly loved her, unconditionally. Someone she could trust, who could be always there for her, who made her laugh and comforted her when she was sad.

She needed someone... like me?

I know, it sounds not so humble. But I would be all that for her and more if necessary. Maybe Prentiss was right. Maybe I should be honest and tell her about my feelings. At least I could know if I'd ever have a chance. Well, I would have to try. Here the results.

First Attempt

The next morning I woke up smelling a pleasant scent from the kitchen: freshly brewed coffee. I got up, rubbing my eyes before I saw (Y/N) making breakfast.

"Good Morning. Breakfast is ready!” She gave me a warm smile.

"Hey... you didn't have to bother with breakfast." I replied in a raspy voice due to the disuse as I slept. "How do you feel?" I hastened to ask.

"Like I broke up with my boyfriend. But it's okay. It'll okay.” (Y/N) said, giving a deep sigh. I approached the counter where she was while she passed me two plates ready with pancakes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, placing the plates on the table and sitting in one of the chairs. She got two mugs with coffee and sat across from me.

"The usual; men who end up being assholes. The initial spark’s gone. The end.” She shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "You know my taste in men follows an evident pattern, right?" (Y/N) stated with a sad smile.

"Maybe you need to double check your parameters and change it..." I said, testing the waters before I dove in. I didn't know what kind of reaction to expect, but she burst out laughing.

"I've thought about it – don't think I don’t. But bad habits are persistent.” She answered me as she cut her pancakes before popping a piece in her mouth.

"You could try at least..." Bringing out a confidence I thought I didn't have, I dared to take her hand over the table. She looked at me curiously.

"Do you think so? I honestly think I’m meant to be a total failure in love, always.” She told me with a grimace.

“I think you need a guy who understands you. A guy that’s there for you when you need him. Someone you can trust…” I didn’t know whether to persist with the description so as not to sound... too self-referential?

“But that's what I have you for, Spence. You are all that to me. That's why you are my best friend.” She said, squeezing my hand and smiling at me. I held my breath for a second and tried to continue.

"Perhaps... I could be more than that, more than a just..." I couldn't finish my idea because our phones started ringing. We had a case. End of conversation.

Fate: 1, Reid: 0.

Second Attempt

After a hard case that had us seconds from emotional overflow, Penelope had the wonderful idea we should go to a bar to 'drown' our frustrations. Hanging out with the team is always a good thing, although the idea of a bar never seemed entirely appealing to me.

Of course, I usually ended up being the designated driver since my alcohol consumption was minimal or nil. That night was no exception. Sitting with Rossi and Luke, I heard them talk about their love experiences as I watched the dance floor where Emily, Penelope, Tara and (Y/N), with high levels of alcohol in their blood, danced as if the world were to end in that moment. Rossi and Luke’s voices sounded distant to me. I could only focus on how (Y/N) moved on the dance floor and how I wished I could touch her... and kiss her... and...

"Reid? Reid!" Luke's voice brought me out of my fantasy. Not even in my own mind could I have in peace! Not even a single damn fantasy with (Y/N).

"Uhm?" I replied by inertia.

"I was asking you if you agreed with what Rossi said..." He asked. I wasn't even listening.

"Eh. Yeah. Sure. He has more experience… in everything.” I guess that answer was enough for the moment. "I'm going to get something else to drink". I said, getting up and walking to the bar. On my way I looked again to (Y/N), who kept dancing sensually with the others.

My emotional and sexual frustration by now was killing me. I gestured to the bartender for another soda. Focused on my own misery I didn't realize when (Y/N) gave me a gentle knock in the ribs with an elbow.

“Hey Reid! Don't tell me you're going to drink alcohol…”. (Y/N) joked.

"No, just a soda. You know I'm the designated driver today…” I replied as I nervously tapped the surface of the bar with my fingers. (Y/N) in her obviously drunken state suddenly hung her arms around my neck.

“Sorry Reid, always… always… you end up being our watchman. You can't even have some funnnnn…” She sighed, resting her head on my chest.

"It's okay. Seeing you all drunk to the bone can also be some fun.”. I replied, daring to take her waist to prevent her from slipping to the floor. She sighed again.

"I think... I don't feel okay... oh my… I'm feeling drowned… Spencer, I feel sick… I’m very dizzy … I feel like… ”

"Come, let's go out for some air. That’ll make you feel better."

We left through one of the back doors of the bar. Once outside, the fresh air made (Y/N) feel somewhat more restored. "Better?" I asked her.

"Yeah… I guess. But despite how drunk I’m… because I know… I’m soooo drunk… It isn’t pleasant to see that couple fucking on that wall...".I looked in the direction of her finger pointing a wall and the couple there didn't even bother acknowledging our presence. I must say some envy awoke in me. I took (Y/N)'s hand and led her further away from the alley before I pointed to the sidewalk and we sat down.

"Now we don't have to look at them." I told her. (Y/N) nodded. Breathing more coolly, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks Spencer. I don't know why you have such patience with me…” Oh boy. The emotional moment of (Y/N). Despite that, my love didn’t give up even a single millimeter.

"You don’t have to thank me. That's why we’re… friends, right?” I replied, barely outlining a smile.

"Yes. But… I don't know… you are always beyond that… I feel like I don't deserve you Spencer…” Her sobs began to mix with hiccups.

“For you (Y/N), I’ll do everything I can. Always”. I said it in a sincere tone. I never expected after having said that, that she would throw herself towards me and start kissing me. After the initial stun, my head began to wonder if that was okay.

Her drunken state told me that it was wrong, but it felt so good to have her lips on mine - ignoring the smell of alcohol, of course. It only lasted a few seconds. She pulled away quickly, as if a wave of sobriety hit her abruptly.

"Sorry! ... Spencer, I’m sorry!... I didn't want..." She started to stutter and cry at the same time.

"Hey, no... don't apologize. It’s okay…” I tried to calm her down.

"I don’t know what happened... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable..." She kept stammering, hiccupping and waving her hands in the air.

"It’s okay (Y/N), I don’t feel uncomfortable... Matter of fact, it’s the opposite." I was going to tell her; I couldn't take it anymore.

"No?..." Her confused face in another context would have made me laugh, but in that moment I was too busy being nervousing about confessing my love to a drunk woman.

"Well…". I took her hands and started stroking them gently. "For a long time I wanted to tell you... and I know we are friends, but I would like..." I had to clear my throat again. "What I mean (Y/N), is I love..."

Unable to finish the sentence, (Y/N) suddenly leaned into my lap, letting out an explosive puke on me. A second followed... and then a third.

The next day all she remembered was the dance floor, and the fact she emptied her stomach on me.

Third Attempt

I hate cases where unsubs try to escape. That always means a chase, and dramatically increases the probability of someone getting hurt. It was in Alabama, and the unsub had hidden himself in a barn. (Y/N) and I stepped in with our flashlights and weapons in search of him. J.J. and Luke were in the backup group.

What we didn’t expect was the bastard climbing onto an attic with his gun pointed at us. When I lit up his face with my flashlight and pointed at him with my gun, I only managed to shout "Stop! FBI!” before I heard a shot in my direction.

I felt a burning and intense pain near my face before falling to the floor. With another shot, (Y/N) struck him in the chest and the unsub fell to the floor.

Oh God, my body hurt a lot. I felt the blood run down my shoulder. The bastard had shot me in the neck! I was going to die in a filthy barn and without having ever declared my love to (Y/N). She quickly knelt down and tried to locate the source of the blood, pressing her hand to my wound.

"We need medics here!" She yelled frantically. I felt dizzy, and (Y/N)’s voice was further and further away.

Was I really going to die there? At least if that was going to happen, I had to tell her. "(Y/N) ..." I said to get her attention.

“No, no… no… don't speak Spencer, keep your eyes open, but don't speak. The paramedics are coming. Come on, squeeze my hand!"

"I have to tell...".I tried to speak but between the dizziness and the pain, I had trouble articulating words.

"Spencer, please. Listen to me. You're going to be fine… everything will be okay.” She tried to reassure me.

"I... love you..." I managed to say, trying to look her in the eye. She looked at me tenderly.

I said it! I said it! I could die in peace now, couldn’t I?

"Spencer, honey..." She said while stroking my hair. I closed my eyes and the paramedics came to check me. One of them asked (Y/N) what happened and how I was doing. She summed up the incident and finished off by saying between sobs, “Please do something. He is dying. He even started to rave."

Fuck!

Then I fell passed out and I don't remember anything else.

The Summary

I could keep on listing the times when I tried to tell her. None of them seemed to be the right moment. And when it did seem to be, something happened. Destiny definitely didn’t want my confession to come to light. So okay, I thought, maybe I should just keep it to myself forever.

One morning, I stepped in the conference room with my usual coffee in hand. There were Luke, Emily, Penelope, Tara, JJ and (Y/N). The conversation was about the latest BAU girls' night. I sat down, taking one of the files settled on the table and starting to leaf through it.

"No! In defense of (Y/N), I must say she was as calm as we were at the table when the guy approached to her.” Tara said.

"Ah, so there was no flirting?" Luke asked.

"Hey! Who do you think I am, Luke? We were there for girls' night, not to catch lovers." (Y/N) replied laughing.

"Of course, they didn't stop looking at each other all night..." Stated JJ with a giggle.

"No JJ! I don't know who you were looking at, but it wasn't me." (Y/N) defended herself. The conversation was inherently awkward for me at that point. I silently didn’t take my eyes off the file in my hands.

"Well, even if she did it, (Y/N) is a free woman and could have run away with whoever she wanted, right?" Luke had a point and that made my blood boil. I'm sure Prentiss noticed.

"Okay, but nothing happened in the end. The guy left and we kept drinking. And here we are, safe and sound.” Prentiss summarized, trying to end the conversation. My hands were sweating, and I looked sideways at (Y/N) who was giggling nervously. Prentiss was probably lying just because I was there.

“Oh yeah, but just before leaving he slipped you a piece of paper with his phone number. I'm sure you saved it in your contacts and called him later!” Penelope said directly to (Y/N), who didn't say anything back. Okay. I was fed up. This conversation had to end at that very moment. I closed the file and dropped it on the table with all the force of my frustration. I got up from the chair, clenching my fists and saying "Enough!" with my jaw clenched. Everyone in the room froze and stared at me in astonishment. Prentiss was the first to react.

"Okay, Luke, Tara, JJ Penelope... to my office. Now." Emily quickly left the room and the rest following her almost instantly. (Y/N) looked confused as the group left, then fixed her eyes on me.

"Spencer?... what's going on ?"

In silence, I closed the door of the room and leaned my back on it, crossing my arms over my chest looking at (Y/N). "You okay?"

"Not. I'm not okay. This is driving me insane.” I said, uncrossing my arms and scratching the back of my neck.

"Tell me, what's going on? Maybe I can help..." (Y/N) tried to get up from the chair to approach me.

"Just don't say anything, okay? I just need you to listen to me, and I need no one and nothing to interrupt me this time.” Just as a precaution I locked the door. (Y/N) opened her eyes with concern.

"Spencer, you're scaring me..." I just stared at her as she remembered I told her not to speak. "I’m sorry..."

“I'm going to start at the end, to make sure you hear it well. Okay?” I cleared my throat and continued speaking. “I love you (Y/N), I've loved you since practically the first day that you walked through this same door with Emily. And no, this goes beyond our friendship. Of course, I love being your friend. But that is no longer enough for me. Every time I see a man in your life, I feel something burning inside me. It hurts me deeply to see you suffer for some idiot who doesn't deserve you. I can’t take it anymore. I tried to tell you so many times, I think I’ve lost count. But if you never even considered the possibility, then I can't do anything else.

You don't even remember that you kissed me outside a bar! When I told you that I loved you while almost dying in a dirty barn, you thought I was delusional! Every time... every single time I thought I gave you signs, you either didn't see them or you didn't care. I don't know what hurts me the most, your blindness or your indifference. You’re a profiler like me! How is it possible that you never…? Damn it (Y/N)! The thing is, I can't live with this stuck inside me anymore. And I'm sorry if telling you all this ends up ruining our friendship, but not being honest with you seems so much worse now. And... and... since I told you this, I think you can go on with your day... Goodbye".

I pulled the lock and opened the door to leave the room. After my confession/outburst, I didn't even dare make eye contact with (Y/N). I was about to cross the threshold when one of (Y/N) 's hands slammed it shut again. I turned around and (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around my neck before she lifted on her feet and collapsed her lips against mine. My first reaction was to raise my hands and smash my back against the door. Stupid reaction, I don't even know why I did it.

That didn't stop (Y/N), who gripped my hair to keep our mouths together. Realizing what was happening, I took her by the waist and brought her as close as possible to me, emptying all my accumulated frustration into that kiss. I don't know how long we were like this.

Okay, yeah, I really do know. It was 2 minutes and 45 seconds. After that time, we both pulled away because we could hardly breathe.

"Wow... (Y/N)... what ...?" I tried to articulate some coherent phrase, but nothing else came out.

"Now you are going to listen to me." She said as she began to play with my tie between her fingers. “First of all: neither blindness nor indifference. Denial only. Spencer... I'm clear on all the times you tried to tell me. Really, even before I broke up with Robertson. Since the time we talked on the jet and I asked you if you were mad at me. I just wanted to deny it all this time. It’s stupid, I know, but I didn't want to hurt you. I was scared I would hurt you if I crossed that border of our friendship. And yes, I also remember the night at the bar. And when you got shot in the barn. I must insist, it was all to deny myself the possibility.

And here comes the second: I did it because I... I love you too. I have for a long time. Why didn't I do anything about it...? Well, it’s kind absurd now I think about it. I did nothing because I was afraid of ruining it. All my relationships end in disaster and I didn’t want that to happen to you. And if that meant locking myself out of the possibility of going further, I was willing to do that so I wouldn’t lose you…”

This time it was I who connected my lips with hers. It felt so good, so soft, and so warm. Not even my best dreams could compare to it. When we pulled back to catch our breath, we looked at each other and started talking at the same time.

"I’m so sorry Spencer... I never wanted you to feel like this..."

"I was waiting for the right moment..."

"If I knew how to compensate you for this..."

"(Y/N), if I had known..."

“What the hell Spencer, why we are so bad at our job…”

"We are the worst ... we should resign..." We both started laughing.

"Come here, Reid." She said, taking one of my hands and pulling me into a hug. "Could you forgive me for making you suffer all this time?"

She didn't need to ask me that. I would do anything for her.

"I let you puke on me... 3 times in one night. I think that exceeds all tolerance limits on my part, don't you think?"

She started to laugh, stifling the noise on my chest. It felt so good to have her this close, to be able to touch her.

"I love you (Y/N), so much." I said, stroking her cheeks and looking at her almost without blinking.

"I love you too Spencer. My friend, my partner… and now, my lover.” She replied, winking at me.

"Hey, that last one you still owe me... with interest due to all the time that’s already passed."

"Don’t worry, honey, you just have to hold on for a few more hours, and I assure you that we will catch up quickly".

———————

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid

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jaz-xedarix · 3 years

Text

The Return of the Star

Thank you so much for your patience and your nice words. I really appreciated them too much.

So finally I have finished part II, and things are starting to get really interesting.

As I promised there’s a new coloring among the text, I really hope you like it, and I put another one, but a bit older, since I couldn’t resist to post it in this part XD

Thanks so much to @buffaloborgine and @trinity-blood-translations for helping me correct this text, your effort is valuable to me. Send you lots of love my friends.

Let’s get started.

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The Istvan Opera House was located on Andrássy Street, the main avenue of the city. It was an old style building that had survived Armageddon. After the liberation battle, it was the first place restored by the archbishop, to serve as a public building for the citizens.

The building was built in a magnificent and delicate Neo-Renaissance style. It was an imposing work that could be compared to the Scala in Milan, the Opernhaus in Vienna or the Státní in Prague. The facade had a secluded air, but once inside the decorations in gold and purple colors overwhelmed the visitor with their luxury.

The “guest of honor” entrance that Esther passed through was no exception. In the boxes facing the wide stage, the rugs were so thick that they reached to the ankles, as if she were in a lavish palace. The walls were lined with works of art and all the furniture had been expressly imported from Rome or Florence.

However, everything paled when compared to the beauty of the woman who was waiting for her sitting on the sofa.

“Welcome, Sister Esther. You may be exhausted after the trip...”

The Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan, Secretary of State of the Vatican and head of its foreign policy, gave a friendly welcome to the nun. Telling her to sit on the couch that was in front, where the two priests was already sitting, she laid her cup of tea on the table.

“I've was told you've had a difficult time with the media at the station. I am glad that you are well.” “Nothing happened… More than anything, it was a surprise that…”

Looking into the gray eyes that smiled at her behind the monocle, the nun awkwardly shook her head like a puppet. For Esther, the Cardinal was a person almost as sacred as the Virgin. Every time she presented herself to her, she couldn't help but get nervous and tense. She brushed off the sweat she didn't have and continued in an uneasy voice:

“Your Eminence, the journalists called me Saint… what kind of joke is this? And why am I the protagonist of the play that is going to be performed here tonight?” “We'll talk about all that later...” Adjusting her monocle, the beautiful woman looked up at the stage, the curtain still closed, and sighed. “His Holiness will be here shortly. He is accompanied by the Minister of Information, who is the one who has organized all this. I myself know only part of the story. It will be better if he tell us all about it in person… What I want to hear now is what news you bring me from the Empire.”

The cardinal spoke with the usual serenity. However, her voice had hardened slightly as she turned her gaze back to the nun and priest, as she crossed her legs under her habit.

“Were you able to contact the empress?” “Yes, we have to inform you about it.” Esther steadied herself and her voice changed as she began to recite the report that she had been rehearsing mentally in the way: “We were fortunate enough to have direct contact with the Empress in...” “Well, the truth is that we couldn't speak to her directly…”

Everything Esther had prepared came to nothing when the other voice interrupted her, preventing her from speaking.

“Eh!?” She didn't even have time to stop him. As he turned to the voice, she saw that Abel was still speaking with an irrepressible verbiage, which did not leave her a space to intervene.

“We did our best to deliver Her Eminence's message in person, but, of course, meeting the Empress in person was beyond our means. Even so, you need not worry, because we asked a local noblewoman, the Marquise of Kiev, Astharoshe Asran, whom I already knew before, to serve as an intermediary. The message will have reached its destination; you can be sure of it.” “Ah? Bu... Father... Wait a minute...” But what was he saying!? Esther nervously adjusted her habit as if to signal him, but Abel did not stop chattering for an instant, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands. “Yes, we suffered the unspeakable to achieve it. Abroad, right? One does not know how things are done... To fulfill our mission we spend our days without stopping running up and down... tears come to my eyes just remembering it now that I tell you, and without doubt, you will cry too... Imagine, I lost three kilograms!”

Where did all this nonsense come from? Esther managed to come to herself and resist the curiosity to see how far the priest would be able to go.

“Wait... wait, father! Stop speaking nonsense!” She did not know what this foolishness was about, but if it continued like this, Caterina would end up thinking that they had not seen the Empress. Covering Abel's mouth with her hand, Esther yelled in the direction of the Cardinal:

“Ignore him, Your Eminence! We do…”

«We did speak directly to the Empress!» Just when Esther, red with exertion, was about to shout that phrase...

“Cardinal Sforza, I beg your pardon...” An elegant male voice echoed out as the door opened. Looking up, the Cardinal met a man who was greeting her respectfully and who was leading a group of three people. He was middle-aged and wore the purple sash on his habit that indicated his status as archbishop.

“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation, Your Eminence. His Holiness and Cardinal Borgia have arrived.” “Hello Beautiful!” The second voice would seem to have been made up of a frivolous shake spiced with kitsch. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to wear the Cardinal habit than the young man with long dyed hair and a nasal voice who had just entered. This was Antonio Borgia, the Minister of Information. “How long, right?! Makes sooo much that I did not see how fantastic you are that seems that my aesthetic sense have atrophied, you know? How are we doing?” “Good afternoon, Cardinal Borgia. I see you are very happy. If I'm not mistaken, we met the day before yesterday in Rome, right?”

Responding sharply to the young man, Caterina turned her gaze to the third figure in the group. Seeing the face of the teenager coming up behind the two men, her cold gaze softened.

“Ah, Alec…! How was the flight? Are you dizzy again?” “Y..., y... yes, sister...” Dressed with beautiful white clothes, the Pope Alessandro XVIII spoke with a low voice. In addition to being extremely shy around people, to the point of bordering on autism, get out of Rome or even out of the Papal Palace supposed one horrible adventure for him. Anyways, the face of his sister seemed to calm him a bit, because he went on, stammering:

“I..., I got dizzy a b..., a little... b... but now I'm fi... I'm fine...” “Really? But you don't have very good color. I'll make someone to prepare some medicine for you... Wait, I'll take the opportunity to make the introductions, since we're all here. This is Sister Esther from the Secretary of State. She is the Saint of Istvan��

Exhorted by Caterina, the nun saluted respectfully. “Nice to meet you. It is an honor to be in your presence, Holiness.”All Vatican employees knew of the reserved character of the pope. In order not to startle him, Esther spoke in a calm voice as she placed a light kiss on his hand.“I am not worthy of you granting me the grace to kneel before you... “ “Ah...! N..., no...” At the touch of the young woman's lips, the pope went from pale to flushed. His breathing quickened, as if he were going to have a heart attack, and he withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ”And…, and…, I… And…, and…, I…, I…”

“Holiness, you must be tired...” said the first man who had entered, placing his hand on the shoulder of the babbling teenager. Maybe half a century of his life had already passed, but his face had manly features that surely wreaked havoc on the opposite sex when he was young. With an attentive expression, he made the young Pope sit on the sofa.

“The show will take a while to start. Get some rest here. If you allow me, I will handle the speech.” “Thank you, Archbishop D'Annunzio...”

Before Esther's eyes, the Pope was panting hard, as if he were going to have a panic attack or something. The one who wiped the sweat from his forehead to reassure him was Caterina.

“Forgive me for putting you through something like this, but this ceremony took so much effort that...” “Oh, does not matter! It is an honor to be able to do our bit to the work of her eminence and the Vatican.”

Emanuele D'Annunzio, Archbishop of Istvan, smiled kindly as he took Caterina’s hand. After kissing her like a gentleman kisses a lady, he turned his serene green eyes to her beautiful face. “I wrote the script for tonight's play myself. I am afraid that it will not be up to the refined taste of Her Eminence, but it will be my honor that you listen to it... I do not know how the representation will turn out, but...” “It'll be great, you know? Sure: super, super good.”

The one who responded in this way to the humble words of the archbishop was not Caterina, but the other cardinal present. Antonio, adjusting his bangs, continued with a slightly annoyed voice. “Because, hey, haven't we helped you with production from the Ministry? I mean, the stage, and the direction, and the actors... Aaaaall of it it’s super mega first class. So if it goes wrong, it will be because of the script, you know?” “We will be forever grateful for your support, Cardinal Borgia. It is an honor that you have dedicated your valuable time to our representation...”

D'Annunzio's words were kind, but there was a hint of provocation in his tone. His green gaze was fixed on the young man, like an adult lion facing the cub that wants to take his place.

“Today's ceremony is very important to us, because our recovery will serve to show it to the world. Its success will also serve to show the power of the Vatican… We hope to continue having the support of the Ministry of Information from now on.” “...”

Although the tone was defiant, it could not be said that there was anything really wrong from the archbishop's words. Antonio was silent, something strange in him, as if not knowing what to answer, clearly feeling the difference in maturity that existed between him and his interlocutor.

In his fifties, Archbishop D'Annunzio was an experienced man who had played a crucial role in the Vatican since the time of the previous Pope Gregorio XXX. As the right hand of Alfonso d'Este, who was then head of the College of Cardinals, he had held important positions as Director of the Holy Inquisition and Chief Secretary of the Vatican. In his spare time he had written dozens of novels and more than two hundred plays, and was considered one of the literary geniuses of his time. However, his brilliance had provoked the envy of Alfonso, who ended up moving him away from the center. His fame was surpassed only by Cardinals Medici and Sforza, the Pope's stepsiblings. No one but a skilled politician would have gotten Istvan city reborn from its ruins just a year after the catastrophe of The Star of Sorrow.

“Ah, but I have not yet greeted the main guest...”

After silencing the young man, the archbishop turned quickly to Esther, who was silently observing the dialectical combat between the two high religious positions.

“This is the first time we met, but I know you very well, Sister Esther. I beg your pardon for having you come from so far away.” “Ple…pleased to meet you, Your Excellency...” Esther rose, embarrassed, from the sofa at the friendly smile of the priest and lowered her head, blushing at his manly features.“I am much honored that you invited me. It is an honor to meet you personally.” “Not at all, the honor is mine for being able to greet the Saint in person. I did extensive research on you to write this script. I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time, but... the truth is that you have surprised me. I didn't think you were so beautiful...” “I… beautiful? Not at all…”

At the Archbishop's compliments, Esther buried her head deeply and turned even more red. Half confused, half flustered, she looked around for Abel to come to her aid. “It's the first time I've been invited to a box of honor at the opera, but hey, what a sight! Heh heh, I feel like God...”

The priest was lost in his thoughts, observing the theater, and did not realize that the nun was looking at him. In her imagination, Esther kicked him on the back, while scratching her head, wondering how to respond to the archbishop.

“May I ask you not to call me Saint? It's a too important word that I don't deserve at all...” “You don't deserve it? You are too modest, sister… ” D'Annunzio replied, still smiling, as if enjoying the young woman's bewilderment. Extending his hand to fix her cap, the archbishop looked at her with mischievous face “You are the holy maiden who protected the people and killed the evil demon... As Archbishop of Istvan I cannot be grateful enough. Tonight's performance is my humble attempt to help your feat remain in the memory of future generations.” “I am very grateful to you, but...”

With a tight smile, Esther awkwardly shook her head. Her face had suddenly lost its rosy color. Saint Esther? What all that was about?

She murmured that inside her with downcast eyes, it wasn't just because the name disgusted her.

A year ago a man had expired in her arms. He was someone who had loved his human wife, someone who had decided to fight the world as revenge because the humans themselves had taken the woman he loved from him.

The “evil demon” that D'Annunzio referred to was that being. Esther had been elevated to the category of Saint for the "feat" of having killed him, but there was something that did not convince her. All this seemed like a farce in which she did not want to be involved...

“Ah, by the way, Your Eminence, what about Cardinal Medici? I thought he was also going to be present at the ceremony for the fallen...” “Unfortunately, his commitments do not allow him to leave Rome. He said he would send a representative, but… still not arrived?”

D'Annunzio and Caterina began to talk about practical matters. Relieved that she was no longer the center of the conversation, Esther turned her eyes to the audience.

More than a thousand spectators filled the theater. They were all famous people from the city, but Esther didn't recognize any faces. During the reconstruction of Istvan, D'Annunzio had given preferential treatment to the industrialists of Rome and Venice to install their factories and banks in the city. The attendees were all rich people of that kind. The echoes of the conversations that were heard were not in Hungarian, but mainly in the official language of Rome.

The curtain was still down, but the actors could be seen waiting behind the scenes, probably to come out to say hello before the performance. Among them was a smiling young nun, the heroine portrayed in the flier. The hunchback next to her would be the Marquis of Hungary. The sinister makeup highlighted his monstrous appearance and showed long predator fangs. It couldn't be clearer that he was the bad guy in the story.

The fragile and beautiful heroine would go through many difficulties, but in the end she would defeat the monster and bring peace to the city. It was such a predictable story that just by seeing the actors you could already imagine.

But…

«But the fight end was much more complex», thought Esther, grabbing unconsciously the rosary that hung from her neck. «It’s not the urge to kill. I don't have such bad taste as to enjoy killing others. This is a fight for life»

The man who had said those words was not a mere “evil demon”, nor had Esther fought him for strictly holy motives. There were still many things that she did not fully understand, but it was clear that this had been a struggle for survival. If she had lost, it would have been Esther and her companions who would have died. Yet the young girl couldn't get a question out of her head: «Was it really an inevitable conflict?»

A nun like her couldn't ask such a question out loud. As long as she worked for the Vatican, a doubt like that was tantamount to questioning her own identity...

“Eh?”

Esther was lost in her thoughts for one moment, but at once came back to herself. Among the actors who had gathered in one corner of the stage, a figure that had gone out discreetly from behind the curtain of the opposite corner had called her attention.

It was one girl more or less of the same age of Esther, she had brown skin, an unusual color in the region, and her hair of a raven black. The combination of the daring opening of her dress with the long gloves decorated with precious stones gave her an extremely dramatical air. But what attracted the interest of Esther was neither her figure nor the clothes she wore. Those purple eyes that glowed in the well-proportioned face... she had seen them before somewhere.

“That girl looks familiar to me...” “Is there something wrong, Esther?”

The voice that echoed behind her was of the lanky priest, who was wandering absent-mindedly around the royal box. As he devoured with his eyes the plate of tea pastries next to the young woman, he asked:

“Suddenly you were silent, doing that face… Oh, do you have a stomach ache? Do you want me to eat those pastries? I don't mind doing you that favor...” “No,” Esther replied dryly, cutting off the priest and added, pointing at the girl with her finger: “Doesn't that girl looks like someone familiar to you, father? I've seen that face already... and not long ago.” “Eh, what girl?” The priest asked in an intrigued voice, and looking where Esther was pointing, he looked confused. “I don't see any girl… Ah, you mean that actress over there?” “No, I mean, the one that has come from the other si... Huh?”

When she looked back to the stage, Esther furrowed her brow, as well as Abel. The female figure that she had seen an instant before had disappeared. “But how strange... she was there a moment ago...” “Wow! Is that the actress who plays your role? I had seen her in the flyer, but in live she is even more beautiful!” Abel had already lost all interest in Esther and was absorbed in watching the group of actors. He made no effort to hide the drool from looking at the actress. "But what a beauty! Both in style and in attractive it is much better than the original… Ah, but don't be angry, Esther. It is undeniable that she is much more beautiful, elegant and seductive than you, but you have your special appeal. You don't have to worry.” “I have to take that as a compliment!?”

Esther put the cup of tea on the plate, ready to answer the priest as he deserved, but...

“Ah! The representation is about to begin...” murmured the Archbishop, raising the eyes to the clock and got up to say goodbye to the Pope and the Cardinals. “Holiness, Eminences, I hope you enjoy with the performance. Excuse me, I will give the welcome the public... Come on, Sister Esther.” “What!? Me?”

Esther was stunned, pointing her finger at herself as she blinked in surprise.Why did she have to accompany the archbishop to greet those people?Seeing the nun's confusion, the archbishop smiled and in a sweet voice, he dropped the bomb: “Let's greet the audience together… I suppose you have prepared a little speech.” “Sa... say hello to...? A speech!?”

At those completely unexpected words, Esther was dumbfounded. It was a joke? He couldn't expect for her to just come out on stage in front of the crowd and improvise a speech!

“Wait ... wait! It's a bit hasty...” “But haven't you come prepared? How clueless my Saint is... Well, what can we do? As I assumed something like this could happen, I have allowed myself the freedom to prepare a small draft. You just have to read it.” “Eh…? But…”

The archbishop seemed to be completely serious and handed her a pile of papers. Esther received them without knowing very well what to do and looked doubtfully to the priest, looking for his help...

“Ah, Esther! If you go on stage, can you ask that actress to sign an autograph for me?” Let it say,«To Father Nightroad, sweetheart» or something like that, okay? Heh heh heh...!” “!”

Saving her killer instinct for later Esther heaved a deep breath.There was no way out of it.

"Ugh, I'm late!"

Although it was still early November, the winter cold had already fallen on Istvan. Gloomy clouds covered the sky, and although the building was supposed to be equipped with heating, the white breath of the people walking through the lobby of the Opera House could be seen.

However, the male figure that rushed into the hall seemed immune to all of it. From the gigantic man who crossed the room devastating the carpet emanated a suffocating sensation of summer heat. It goes without saying that such a figure attracted all eyes, as if a monster from another world had suddenly appeared in the room; but the man seemed oblivious to it and advanced with a hard look, as if he were entering enemy territory.

“What a misery to have suffered a setback precisely when I am representing Cardinal Medici! This mistake can be very expensive, Petros!”

Dressed in the uniform of a secret police officer, Brother Petros looked up at the clock as if observing an ancient enemy. Although there were still twenty minutes until the start of the performance, he had committed a very serious fault by not having arrived before His Holiness made his entrance.

Anyway, he had only arrived in the city a few minutes ago, sent by his superior, who had too many business holding him back in Rome. He had not arrived by air, like the Pope, but had taken the land route. The planned inspection of the military facilities had taken him longer than planned, and that had caused the delay.

Although the inspection had been satisfactory, it was scandalous that the director of the Holy Inquisition arrived after the papal retinue. No doubt a severe reprimand from Francesco awaited him when he returned. If it was just a row that awaited him... There was one other thing that Petros had to worry about...

“Where will the honor box be? Eh…? Where the hell am I?”

As soon as he went through the lobby, Petros stopped. He had to accept that he was lost and began to look around, but none of the doors he saw were the ones he was looking for.

Indeed, he did not know where he was. He had stormed across the lobby, but had no idea how to get to the honor box. Resigned to search blindly, he began to scan the surroundings with a fierce grin, to see if he could find any sign, but could do nothing more than make a passing child cry.

The issue was that the box of honor was not accessible from the general entrance but it had its own access, but Il Ruinante had no way of knowing that. He gritted his teeth and prepared to undo his way when...

“Oh!”

Behind the intrepid warrior monk came a small cry of pain.

Turning around, Petros had collided head-on with a girl who was walking behind him. The girl fell on her back to the carpet, dropping what she was carrying.

“Aaah! Forgive me, sister! How clumsy you are, Petros!”

The man tried to apologize as he picked up the papers, which had been strewn down the hall. The nun was still moaning on the floor, clutching her bonnet.

“Excuse my ineptitude! Are you OK? Eh? You!?” As he helped the nun to stand up, Petros' face changed as he roared in surprise at his interlocutor, who was still reeling: “You are Esther Blanchett!” “Ah, brother… Petros, right?” Moved by the violence with which the inquisitor had spoken her name, the young woman stepped back, raising her tearful gaze to Il Ruinante, and bowed to him. “We haven't seen each other for a long time… Ah, thanks again for your support in Carthage.” “No, please, I'm the one who owes you... But what am I saying?!” Petros began to respond to the greeting automatically, but quickly came back to himself. This was not the time to chat! “Esther Blanchett! What are you doing here!? This is not the place for you!”

Finally the nun straightened with surprise in her eyes. “Well, I was getting ready for the speech. Archbishop D'Annunzio has ordered me to greet the audience with a few words and was reviewing the script...” “Has the archbishop ordered it? Impossible. How can it be that...?” Laughing like if he was talking to a little girl, Petros glanced at the script, his expression suddenly turning from skepticism to surprise. Topping the sheets was… the archbishop's seal!? The inquisitor began hastily reading the text. “Wha... but what...?! «Before all of you gathered here I want to raise my voice to denounce...»”

«Before all of you gathered here, I want to raise my voice to denounce that there is pure Evil in the world. I want to raise my voice to say that as long as that Evil is not exterminated, we will have no future. We must unite to fight and defend everything we love, everything we respect. It will be a difficult and tough fight, but all united in our Faith we must face…».

It was unbelievable, but it seemed to be, indeed, the script of a speech. And it took up almost fifty pages. The tone was a bit affected and overly dramatic, but the closing archbishop's signature seemed authentic.

“Hmmm! And the archbishop signed it... But I can't believe it! Why did he ask you to…!?” He said, looking at the nun with suspicious eyes. “Are you plotting against me!? Tell me the truth or you will regret it!” “Eh? The truth is that I have no idea what you are talking about for a while now...”

The young woman scratched her head, honestly confused. It was like talking to a drunk who did nothing but repeat the same story.

“It's not that I don't find it strange to be here, really. First I receive a notice from the Duchess of Milan to come to Istvan, then they ask me to give a speech... The truth is that the...” “The Duchess of Milan… Cardinal Sforza!?” Petros reacted quickly to the young woman's words. The Cardinal... what was that viper up to?

Actually, Petros was most concerned about what the Pope's stepsister might do during the visit. Taking advantage of the absence of Cardinal Medici, she could try to manipulate His Holiness or do some strange maneuver... He had to be prepared for anything, and the facts gave him reasons to suspect. So the viper had already set off... But he would not trip over the same stone of Carthage again. This time they would not escape from him!

Staring at the nun, who was staring at him in bewilderment, Petros clenched his fist. That witch had played with him in Carthage. Just when he was about to uncover her plot, all evidence had been destroyed. He knew with certainty that she had had contact with the vampires, although it had escaped him at the last moment. But this time he would catch her. He would discover what is she plotting around the Pope and would denounce it to the world!

“Ah, there you are, Sister Esther...”

A cold voice roused the inquisitor from his inflamed musings. It was an elegant male voice, interrupting him as if to protect the nun.

“I've been looking for you for a while. Eh? I think we've met before… What brings the Inquisition here, Brother Pietro Orsini?” “Yo... Your Excellence!” Hearing his secular name after so long, Petros turned as if an electric current had passed through his body. Seeing the archbishop approaching, he gave a forced salute. “How long! What a joy to see you again!” “Yes, a long time, Orsini. The last time we saw each other was when I left my charge as Director of the Inquisition, right? You were just a kid and look at you now. How time flies!” “I will never be grateful enough for your advice and your attention back then!” Said Petros, bowing deeply, as if he were a spring doll.

Il Ruinante’s sword was feared inside and outside the Vatican, but there were four people he bowed his head to. One of them was Archbishop D'Annunzio.

“Please excuse my delay. The review of the troops has taken me longer than I had calculated and the roads were collapsed...” “You can tell me that later...” the archbishop cut him immediately, turning around and say with sweet voice to Esther, who was watching them in astonishment. “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to read the script? It’s almost time for your speech. Let's go up on stage.” “Yes, I have read the text…” replied the nun, embarrassed, taking the papers that the inquisitor had returned to her with an impetuous gesture. “But, Your Excellence, am I really supposed to read that speech?” “Eh? What do you mean, sister?”

The archbishop was surprised to see the dark light that had covered the young woman's eyes, and asked with a cautious expression: “You don't like the parliament I have prepared for you? Does it not meet your literary expectations?” “No, is not that. It is wonderfully written and conveys the ideas very well… But the message…” The nun choked with her words… After hesitating and stammering for a few seconds, she looked up, determined. “Why make such a clear call to war? A year ago we fought the Marquis of Hungary, it is true. But it was a pure struggle for survival. We did not think of pretty phrases like «divine glory» or «security of human society»...” “Ah, that's what you mean...” D'Annunzio interrupted the young woman's fiery voice with great serenity. The archbishop's smile keep its charm, but his tone had a certain inhuman echo. “You don't have to take it so seriously, Sister Esther. The public gathered here tonight have not come to hear the truth. What they expect is a dramatic and exciting story… They want the story of the heroic maiden who struck down the evil vampire. Isn't it our obligation to meet those expectations?” “B... but...” “Listen to me, Saint...” D'Annunzio silenced Esther with a gesture and shook his head. The hallway had begun to fill up, and the archbishop lowered his voice, returning greetings to passing guests. “You are a very sweet girl, Esther. I fully understand that you don't like harsh words. But think about it for a moment. Although it has recovered a lot this year, Istvan is still going through difficult times. The life of the citizens, your compatriots, is still very hard. Think how important it would be for them to have a heroine...”

The archbishop placed a very white hand on her shoulder as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Esther Blanchett, you must be their Saint. You must be the image that encourage their hearts. You must be the strength and the hope of all those you love, of all humanity. I will show you how.” “...”

Esther was doubtful at the powerful words of the archbishop, after opening and closing her lips as if not knowing what to say, the girl sighed deeply.

“Good. I'll try.” “Good girl.” Nodding with satisfaction, D'Annunzio opened the door that led to the stage.“Sister Esther, it's time to go on stage. The public awaits you.” “OK…”

«The public awaits you». She would have felt joyful, but the worried expression of the girl did not changed. Even it could be said that the suffering is evident in her face. Anyways, Esther began to walk dragging her feet. She went through the door the archbishop had opened for her and disappeared down the dark corridor.

After closing the door, D'Annunzio made a sarcastic face.

“What a difficult Saint to handle... one breaks one's back to turn her it into a star, and she, in return, complains...” “Ah?” At the archbishop's cold laugh, Petros looked up in surprise. Opening the door again, D'Annunzio said in a clear voice, to the surprise of his former subordinate: “I never know how to treat smart ass girls. It's so boring having to lecture them like that… The tools should be quiet and just do what they are asked to do…” ��A tool...? Your Excellence, when you say «tool» do you mean that girl? And what does it mean to «turn her into a star»?”

Petros asked in astonishment. So he didn't really think she was a Saint?

“Ah! So the director of the Inquisition is still there...”

The Archbishop of Istvan turned as if he was seeing a stranger and responded with the tone of someone who had just discovered a stain on his clothing.

“You heard me perfectly. Saint Esther is nothing more than an image created by the Vatican. It is a huge fiction promoted through the management of the media and the investment of large amounts of money...”

The bishop spoke confidently in the dark corridor, as if explaining everything to a tough-minded subordinate. “As you know, the Vatican is losing power over the secular states. To stop this trend, it is necessary to regain the center of social attention. Creating a Saint is part of that project. Esther Blanchett is nothing more than a tool for our plans...”

«You shall not worship idols», the Bible made it very clear. Didn't the archbishop know? D'Annunzio spoke as if he did not feel any apprehension or guilt for playing with the life of a girl and the faith of millions of people like that. “Besides, as a tool, it's first class. Her past is impeccable, and it doesn't hurt that she's so pretty… She has a very cute face, don't you think, Orsini?” “Eh? Well, I wouldn't know...” At the knight's embarrassment, the archbishop looked at him with mocking eyes. “You don't know about that? Well, it doesn't matter… I have to introduce my Saint to the public. Orsini, you can go to the box of honor. Then we will talk about your delay. Get ready.”

D'Annunzio turned, dropping those cold words, and reached for the door that led to the stage.

“Ah!?”

Frightened, Petros started to run away from his former superior, but just as he was about to give a farewell bow, he remembered that he still had something to ask him about. “Your Excellence... I really have a question to ask you before I present myself before His Holiness.” Half-closing the door, the archbishop turned with an annoyed gesture at the voice of his exasperating interlocutor. “What?”

D'Annunzio's voice was reminiscent of a teacher announcing to a student that he had failed. Petros barely repressed his desire to flee and ran from the archbishop just to ask: “I have just reviewed the City Guard, but… Your Excellence, what does this deployment mean? I have seen a complete division or even more. What about those tanks and aircraft!?” D'Annunzio continued walking as if he was unaware of the alarm that echoed in Il Ruinante's words. “I admire how you have managed to reform in just one year an organization that had been completely destroyed. But for a public order force it is a bit out of proportion. Is there something going wrong?” “Eh? What is going to go wrong?” The archbishop stopped for the first time.

Twisting his mouth, he answered coldly to Petros’ puzzled gaze. “Certainly the Guard's strength now exceeds what it was a year ago. Nobody hides it. But if the situation of the city is taken into consideration, it cannot be said that they are sufficient. After all, Istvan is the central column of the Vatican's eastern defense line. Their defensive potential has to be as great as possible... don't you think?” “If you will allow me to speak frankly, I think there is a problem of magnitude! The Second Division of the Vatican Army is deployed in this area, which is responsible of the defense work. The City Guard should only perform police functions. What is the point of equipping the police as if it were an army?”

The only response Petros' fiery speech got was a cold smile. “Well, well, I see that you still don't understand anything, Orsini...”

The archbishop made no effort to hide the malice and contempt on his face. As if he felt sorry for the stupidity of his interlocutor, he made a face, laughing through his nose. “Yes, there is an army division stationed here. But in the event of war, those troops will leave the region. Won't Istvan have to defend itself, then? That is why we have increased the strength of the Guard... Of course it costs us a lot of resources, but that is why we can’t afford to reduce it.” “But that dismantles all the plans of Rome and Cardinal Medici! Also, you speak of war, but now that the region has stabilized, where is the risk of war going to come from? Neighboring countries respect the authority of the Vatican and there is no sign of any disturbance to happen so...” “Brother Petros!!!”

The scream echoed like an ice whip. Throwing a defiant look at the inquisitor, the archbishop harshly carved his words into the dark air of the hall. “Are you the Director of the Holy Inquisition and you don't understand something like that!? Have you forgotten who the mortal enemy of humanity is!? Have you forgotten that this Empire of terrible devils is next to us!? If you've forgotten, I'll remind you. Never forget: this is Istvan, the front line of the battle against vampires!” “Ah…? But...”

Anyone who had attended their dialogue would have been frozen in surprise.Il Ruinante, known as the most implacable man in the Vatican, had fallen silent.

When he noticed Petros is not going to reply, the archbishop softened his expression. “Well, I don't want to lecture you anymore. Go back to the lobby. Didn't you come to escort His Holiness? That's all you're worth for. At least accomplish the mission you've been given.” “Y... yes! With your permission...” Gritting his teeth, Petros bowed.

He was not at all convinced by the reasons given by his former superior, but he had no proper reply at the time. He didn't have time either. He turned towards the exit when... Just then the door closed in front of him. And, as if they were waiting for that moment, the guards locked the door from outside.

“Hey…”

Had they locked him up!? Petros looked around him, bewildered. The doors that led to the stalls were all closed with bolt. The lighting in the hall began to dim as the lighting on the stage took hold. The warrior priest then heard the sound of the presenter's voice through the microphone:

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Istvan Opera House! In a few moments the Star of Sorrow will begin before all of you.”

“Petros, you are so clumsy!”

The inquisitor began to get nervous. He had to find a way to get to the Pope's box as soon as possible! However, as much as he searched everywhere he was not able to find an open door. Apparently the security measures were meant to keep the public effectively locked inside the theater.

He actually couldn’t make someone to open one of the doors invoking his authority as head of the Inquisition, if he did it, that would divert the attention of the speech that was about to start on the stage, and when they found out, the archbishop would scold him again some more.

“Before we start, the author of the script will say a few words of welcome… His Excellene the Archbishop of Istvan, Emanuele D'Annunzio!” “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

While Il Ruinante was sweating while desperately looking for a way out, the welcome speech had begun on stage. Taking the microphone, the Archbishop smiled with all his virile charm. However, the voice that began to echo through the room had the serenity of a servant of God.

“Welcome everyone. It has been a year since I received my appointment as Archbishop of this city. The road has not been easy, but with the help of the Lord and the collaboration of all of you, we have managed to happily overcome all the difficulties that have been presented to us so far. During this year we have defended in Istvan the glory of the Lord, who brought us a girl. I think we can be proud of it.”

After uttering those phrases almost without breathing, the archbishop was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes as if he were remembering all the efforts of that year and raised his face to the ceiling. Petros realized that this was not more than a theatrical gesture, but the audience seemed to understand it as one reaction of sincere religious piety. Some mature women even began to sob quietly in the excitement. Then, after checking that the entire room had gone completely silent, the archbishop opened his eyes again. Still smiling serenely, he raised his right arm to point to the small figure waiting at the base of the stage.

“Tonight I am moved to have the opportunity to express our appreciation to the person who made the rebirth of this city possible. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the heroine who freed Istvan from the evil monster! Our hope before the devils that threaten us! Sister Esther Blanchett, Saint of Istvan!”

As thunderous applause rose, the hesitant figure of the nun appeared, equipped with a microphone. Blinking because of the bright spotlights and shrugging, the girl looked tiny in the middle of the huge stage, as if she were just a child.

«She's just a poor kid…» Petros thought as he watched Esther walk across the stage. Come to think of it, the poor girl deserved his compassion for many reasons.First, because she belonged to the Ministry of Vatican Foreign Affairs, which was the lair of that witch, Caterina Sforza. Besides, she had to work with those agents, who had a horrible reputation of being sacrilegious. He couldn't imagine how she could lead a pious life as a nun between them.

Above all, the entire show that night had not been sought by her, but had been implicated by the surroundings of D'Annunzio. At her young age, being worshiped as a Saint and being commissioned to make a speech to such an audience could only be considered a misfortune.

“Uh... uh... Go... good night to every... Oh, no...! Good evening, la… ladies and gentlemen. It is an honor to introduce myself to you. I am Esther Blanchett. I do not have words to express my gratitude for this opera to be performed in my honor...”

While Il Ruinante looked at her with compassionate eyes, the nun had started babbling. The inquisitor’s heart cringed just to see how her forehead was beaded in sweat and how her blue eyes were moving full of insecurity. Trying to smile faintly, the young lady put on the table the script that the archbishop had given to her before. Just when she deployed the first pages and prepared to start reading... the tragedy happened.

“Ah!?”

The first thing that echoed through the speakers was a small groan. The pages of the script Esther was going to read flew across the stage.

“No!” Cried Petros, as the papers fluttered like leaves blown up in the wind.Had she forgotten to re-tie the rope that held the pages together? The nun was trying to pick them up in haste, but many had already fallen off the stage. The girl's tensed face had lost all traces of color. But Petros and the rest of the audience didn't have to hold their breath for long.

At first, the nun was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, it was natural.

Having to improvise a speech in front of such a crowd, and also being people of such power in society… Even a veteran politician would have found it difficult. How could it cost to a girl who had just turned eighteen?

In view of the events, no one would have criticized her if she had fled the stage. But the Saint did not.Biting her lip as if she had made up her mind, she rose to her feet, adjusting the hem of her habit. She was still a little pale, but a powerful light shone in her blue eyes. As if attracted by that look, the audience's attention was concentrated on the girl's face when she began to speak...

“I beg your pardon for my clumsiness… The fear of speaking in front of so many people has left me a little stunned…” Esther began in a vigorous, almost savage voice. “A play will be performed in my honor tonight and I want to express my enormous gratitude to you for taking the time to attend the performance”.

Was this the same nervous nun who had trembled a few minutes earlier? Esther addressed the audience with her head up, as if all the perplexity of before had disappeared.

“Well, to be improvising she does it very well...” Petros said to himself with admiration, as he looked for the archbishop with his eyes. At the backstage, D'Annunzio seemed to be more tense than before, but he was still looking at the young woman with a satisfied smile. As the nun had read the script before, a few as she remembered, things would go more or less as he had planned. Petros expected the same when he looked back at the girl. She would probably invoke God and the Vatican, would praise the courage of the combatants a year ago and call those present to remain united. If she said that, nothing would be noticed...

“Thank you all. That was my intention... But now I have changed my mind...”

It would take a long time for Petros to forget how the atmosphere in the room changed with just that short sentence.What she’s going to tell them!? Glancing to the backstage, he saw how the archbishop had stiffened, staring at the nun in amazement, as if observing a ceramic doll that had suddenly begun to speak.

Esther was not looking at the archbishop, but at the room full of spectators. In her pupils were reflected the innumerable puzzled faces that had been nailed to her. The audience seemed hypnotized by the words of the Saint, who whispered slowly: “I have come to pray with all of you for the souls of those who shed their blood in battle a year ago. For that I have returned here, to my city.” The voice was not overly powerful, but it completely dominated the room, where not a cough was heard. Without being too high or too low, it filled the air with a clean and serene feeling. It was the perfect example of a pleasant voice. As proof of this, when hearing her, Petros had completely forgotten that he had to go to the royal box, nothing further from his mind at the moment than to get away from there.

Il Ruinante had been lost in thought, listening to the flow of that voice.

“A year ago, we got a lot of blood flowing. Blood of our comrades, blood of our enemies… It was a horrible battle. But then I thought there was no other option. To survive you had to fight. We couldn't help but spilling that blood. In those moments it seemed that we were at a crossroads between life and death. Yes, that was really the situation. That's why we took up the sword... But now, a year later, I have the feeling that «there was no other option» is not a sufficient explanation for that fight...”

Esther was silent for a moment after the long speech. At the view of the girl closing briefly her eyelids to soak in those memories, Petros thought that this nun did not seem at all like the girl that he knew. More than someone alive, it recalled to the images of Saints that appeared in the murals and religious paintings of the cathedrals. When she opened her eyes again, a sweet but intense light shone on them. Looking at the audience, which was in absolute silence, she continued with a calm voice.

“During that battle I met one person... one person who back then was my enemy. He was the man I was trying to kill. But he also believed he had to kill to me to survive.”

Her expression could not be said to be very refined, nor the sound of the words to be very beautiful. In spite of this, there was nobody in the room that was not captivated by the voice of the Saint. None of those celebrities and distinguished people uttered a single word. They were all focused, listening to the girl, who kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“But it wasn't true, no one should have died; However, due to a misunderstanding, at first, both he and I thought that we had to kill ourselves to survive… And not only him. I believe that among those we killed and who killed us there were many like him. Many who laughed like us, cried like us. Many who we hated. All possibilities were destroyed by a misunderstanding.”

Perhaps it was the memory of that man that made a trace of suffering appear in the serene voice of the girl. The audience also felt the sting of that painful memory in their chest. Looking ahead, Esther spoke without hurrying, without forcing the words, penetrating every corner of the hearts of the attendees.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distrust yourselves. Be suspicious of justice. Maybe we are too simple. Be suspicious of your ideas about justice in the world. Are they really correct? Aren't they often just what we want to believe? Don't we impose them on our neighbor many times? Be suspicious. Mistrusting these issues is not bad.”

«Be suspicious of justice».

Hearing those words, the audience felt a slight shudder. Since the nun had started her speech, that was the first moment of doubt. The audience had been rapt with her until then, but little by little the audience began to come to their senses. Esther was not flustered by the change in the audience, so she pushed herself even harder in her speech, expressively moving her arms.

“It may be that these words make you sad. You may think that everything is false and that nothing is certain. God and justice are nothing more than mirages… But they are not. We can distrust, distrust and distrust, but something will always remain. There is always something that cannot be denied… For example, on a winter night like this, meeting with the whole family in front of the stove and feeling the warmth in the heart…” The families in the audience exchanged glances, as if encouraged by the girl's words.“Or look at the starry sky from a deserted meadow and feel how precious our little existence is...”

As to embrace to all those present, the nun extended the arms and continued talking, pretending this time caress the soul with the voice.

“Love of oneself and of neighbor ... that's what remains in the end. That is what makes me believe in God. Because God loves us and has given us these gifts. So let's pray together. Let us pray for all the blood that was shed and the souls of all the fallen… Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.”

Although they had wanted to rehearse it before, the response of those present would not have come out more conjoined. It seemed they had coordinated not only the breathing, but even the pulse. The echo of those words had scarcely been consumed when a thunderous round of applause went up. The ovation did not diminish after the nun finished bowing in thanks. After the archbishop's speech, the audience had remained seated, but Esther's words made everyone in attendance stand up to cheer her on. Even Petros, seeing the reaction from the room, was unable to suppress a cry of admiration.

“And she's just a little girl… What a charisma!”

N: A very old Petros’s coloring ;)

Just with the dubious name of Saint, the girl had managed to move more than a thousand people. This was not normal. Thinking ahead, Petros felt a slight concern.

If the artificial Saint that D'Annunzio and Borgia wanted to make was added that ability to attract the public, the potential of the girl was not negligible. If she developed her career under Sforza's guidance, she would be a formidable opponent for Cardinal Medici and his followers...

“Hey you! Where do you think you are going!? This is not the time for that yet!”

Those reproachful words that came from the base of the stage brought the warrior monk to his senses. Turning, he saw a Guard soldier in his gray-blue uniform arguing with someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Probably wanted to give it to the Saint. The one who carried the bouquet was a young adolescent. From the daring evening dress she was wearing, she seemed to be the daughter of one of the attendees. However, her dark skin and pronounced features were a rare combination in these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her pupils a stunning amethyst color.The soldier holding her in the gray gloves began to speak in an increasingly harsh voice.

“Didn't you hear me? If you want to give the Saint a bouquet of flowers, you have to wait for her to come down from the stage. Go back to your seat and stay still.” “Stand aside,Terran!”

The young woman slightly moved the arm that the other was holding, It seemed a only symbolic gesture, but what happened then was anything but that.

The soldier, who was six feet tall and weighed a hundred kilos, flew off incredibly and slammed his face against the wall. The impact must have made him pass out. The horrible noise of his nose breaking was the only thing that accompanied his collapse to the ground.

The scene did not go unnoticed. Muffled shouts of astonishment began to be heard from the audience, and in the box of honor the cardinals had risen with tense faces. However, Petros wasted no time in observing the reactions of the attendees, because he had noticed that the young woman had too long canines between her lips...

“No! Get away from her you all!” Shouted Il Ruinante, wielding with each hand the screamers that he wore on his waist. “She is not human! Is a…!” “Nice to meet you, Terrans. My name is Shahrazad and I come from the True Human Empire…” said the girl, with a voice as beautiful as a bell, but at the same time full of defiant force.

As the bouquet of flowers was dropped, the long jeweled gloves she wore began to glow. Leaning them against the wall, the girl, or rather the vampire, looked directly at Esther, who made no sign of wanting to flee.

“This evening I come to see the killer who you call the Saint... and to kill her!”

With a thud, the wall began to crumble, looking like a spiderweb.

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And this is it my dear friends, I hope you have enjoyed this and the new Petros’ coloring I added. I tried hard not to include personal notes in the translation, because I love Petros so much and I was like reacting to everything that happened to him. Maybe that’s the reason I love this arc so much XD I want to thank you a lot for your patience, for those who still support this and help me out with it, and to those who share the love by rebloging and liking this. I truly apreciate that. See you soon on the next part, stay tunned because the best part is next to come. Please stay safe and healthy <3

#TrinityBlood #TrinityBloodNovels #fan translation #fan coloring #manga panel coloring #abel nightroad #esther blanchett #caterina sforza #brother petros #ROM IV #chapter 1 #part 2

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